Blame it on lepidolite

I was recently given a ten-pound slab of lepidolite taken right out of a million-year-old riverbed somewhere in the expanse of sagebrush and dirt surrounding the town where I live. I can't say exactly where because the guy who found it is filing a claim with the state of Wyoming so he can mine the area and sell it by the pound on eBay. He gave me a chunk so I can write a story about him for Rock and Gem magazine. But until he gets his claim, the location of this newfound stash of multicolored mica will remain a mystery.

Metaphysical believers call Lepidolite "the stabilizer." It has the alleged power to alleviate stress during difficult transitions. My slab has been sliced through on one side and polished to reveal a dark, sparkling purple surface. Lepidolite comes in a a bunch of colors, some with a high concentration of lithium. According to my guy, the lithium makes it sparkle. I like having my own chunk of lepidolite around--especialy because of the lithium. Scientists say lithium was among the first minerals created in the Big Bang. Now people use it as an antidepressant and as a catalyst to make meth. It's highly reactive--ironic for a stone that is famous for its stabilizing effects.

I've been petting my new rock and feeling more at peace with myself lately.

I brought it home yesterday and set it on my nightstand. Then, as I was getting ready to turn in, I got the urge to unleash myself. And I started blogging--a self-indulgence that is highly uncharacteristic of me. I think I know what's to blame.

Everybody in?

As to the blog title. Apparently, my grandpa was a big fan of a camp song entitled "Lollipop." Sang it all the time. Today, my dad quoted a line from the song in reference to my current job situation: "When you come to the end of a lollypop, and sit all alone with the stick, ick, ick." The line echoed in my head all night as I was writing cover letters. It's a good thing I don't know the melody.

When you put that line context with the other "lyrics" (if you will), it's really rather profound.

It’s a lick upon a stick,
Guaranteed to make you sick,
Lollipop for me.

When you come to the end of a lollipop,
And sit alone with the stick, ick, ick.
When you think of the one in the candy shop,
Of which you would like a lick, ick, ick.
When you think what the end of a lollipop,
Can mean for a tired tongue, ung, ung.
When your lollipop is all sucked and gone,
And you long for another one, un, un.

I'm trying to keep the employment parallel in mind, but thoughts immediately stray toward...other parallels. Either way, it is a wistful song that does not belong on a schoolbus or in the mess hall. It belongs here, with me and my melancholy weblog.