Currently I am not amused. Not amused, I say. I sat down to begin writing about an hour and a half ago, and my site was completely inaccessible, which means I couldn’t look at the site, write a post, diddly freaking squat. (I said, “Shit, hell, fuck, damn.”) Thanks to Google, I figured out the problem was a plugin I installed a couple of months ago. I’m not sure how to explain a plugin other than saying it allows certain things to happen on the website. Like, there’s one plugin that lets me share my Twitter feed, another that lets me list the most recent posts, stuff like this. Anyway, one of those damn things was messed up, so the recommendation Google suggested was to disable (turn off) the guilty party.

Which would have been easy enough to do–had I been able to access my site.

SHFD.

Well, I guess there’s always more than one way to skin a cat, so after some more time on Google, I enabled FTP protocol through the website host, which is different than the site itself. Think landlord (host) versus property (site). (I can’t explain FTF other than to say it’s a way to access your site files away from you site–sort of like using your cell phone to turn up your hearing aids or open your garage door). After enabling FTP, I had to actually download an FTP application, and then I was able to rename the plugin file folder that was causing the problem. And guess what? Voila!

Stupid internet. (The end.)

Just kidding. I don’t even remember what I did today. Oh yes. I got a massage–myofascial release–and talked to my massage therapist about the theory that our memories are stored in our fascia. (I plan to check into this more. I’ll let you know how it goes.) Anyway, he said that sometimes when people are “letting go,” they remember traumatic experiences from their past–car accidents, injuries, even things that happened in the womb. (Wild, huh?) He said people can release a lot of emotion on the table and the body can heal long-standing problems. In his training, this is apparently called “unwinding,” and it can really scare the shit out of someone if they’re not ready for it.

Personally, I don’t think I “unwound” today, although I wish I had. (I did feel my neck and shoulders let go a little.) I’ve had some experiences on the massage table and in yoga before when I spontaneously started crying, even laughing. Sometimes it’s just been the emotion, other times it’s been the emotion and a memory. Oh, that’s why my leg muscles are so tight–because I had to grow up so fast. Maybe it all sounds weird if this is new to you, but I’ve come to see that every part of our bodies is absolutely alive, conscious, and wise. And it seems that often emotions and experiences literally get stored in our bodies (the issues are in our tissues) until we are best able to address and process them.

Let’s just put all that stress in your shoulders until a later date. There now–everything right where it belongs.

This afternoon I spent some time at Sweet Bay Coffee Company setting my mom up with a tablet so she could get on Facebook and read my blog. (What else is there to do online?) She’s been using my old phone, but the port has been crapping out, which has made charging it a problem. But I got a sweet deal on an Amazon Fire, which is perfect for her.

In addition to all that, I also worked through an exercise about my beliefs in money while at Sweet Bay. (Fill in the blanks: Rich people are _____, If I had money I’d _____, Dad thought money was _____, etc.) Honestly, most my answers were negative, which only surprised me because I thought I’d made a lot of progress in that department.

Guess not.

Anyway, when I left Sweet Bay, the cicadas outside were so loud it sounded like an entire herd of baby goats were being sacrificed as part of a pagan ritual. I thought, Holy crap.

So I got this new car, right? Tom Collins–that’s his name. Well, when I bought Tom Collins, the guy who sold him to me (Johnny) said to be sure to start the car and let it run for about thirty seconds before throwing it into gear and taking off. He said it would be better for the engine. Therefore, like the straight-A student that I am, I’ve been trying to follow his directions. (Where’s my gold star?)

So get this shit.

There I was sitting in the Sweet Bay parking lot, car running with the windows down, and a giant cicada flew–actually buzzed–into my car. (I screamed and nearly peed my pants.) I swear, it was huge, practically an Oscar Meyer weiner with wings. Anyway, the not-so-little sucker went directly into my door handle–and got stuck–like little Timmy in the well. So I opened the door hoping he’d fly out, but I guess he didn’t have enough space for a runway.

You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. 

It’s moments like these when I think it’d really be nice to have a man around. I mean, isn’t that what husbands are for–dealing with insects? Oh go ahead, honey, you handle it–you’re so big and strong. Why, look at those muscles. Well, as it turned out, I was the only man available for cicada-removal duty. Crap, I thought, I guess I’ll have to do. So I fished out an umbrella from the trunk, stood back, and poked around in the hole, but nothing came out, other than a bunch of noise that sounded like a frozen turkey being dropped into a pot of boiling vegetable oil.

CRACKLE, CRACKLE, ZIP, POW.

I was finally able to get the umbrella tip behind the little guy’s bottom, and he used his legs to crawl out of the well. Then just like that, he flew off, up-up-and-away over the Dollar General.

Tonight before I found out my website crashed, I cleared off the phone that used to be mine, the phone Mom’s been using for a couple of months–backed up the photos, deleted the applications, restored it to factory settings. It’s not worth much, and I’ll probably take it apart with a hammer tomorrow, so I’m not sure what all the fuss was about, other than–and I know this sounds silly–it felt like I was saying goodbye. I mean, we’ve been through a lot together.

Earlier I looked up the symbolism of cicadas. As it turns out, they represent rebirth because they spend much of their life underground. But then after a good while, they break free, lose their shell. For this reason they stand for metamorphosis and change. Honestly, I don’t think it was an accident that little demon flew into Tom Collins. I mean, I’m thirty-six years old, and that’s never happened before. Plus, I’m actually going through a rebirth.

What I love about this reminder from the heavens is that it’s normal to have a long seemingly inactive period before breaking free. More so, if you want to become who you were meant to be, it’s absolutely necessary to shed your old skin. Sure it might be sad to say goodbye–to your old phone, to your old beliefs about money, anything that helped get you this far–and it might feel awkward at first–but you’ve got to let go of whatever it is in order to make room for something new. You can’t say wound up forever. After all, cicadas weren’t meant to have their wings pinned down, and neither were we.