The Ramblings of a Mental Meanderthal

This is not a dissertation or even a proper essay, just getting some thoughts out. Babbling, really. The women's chorus I sing in is working on a song with lyrics penned by Anne Frank. (Edited, I think, but pretty close to her original words.) The piece we're singing includes the words, "I lie in bed at night after ending my prayers with the words, Thank you, God, for all that is good and dear and beautiful , and I'm filled with joy." I've had that part of the song stuck in my mind most of the evening. (I've had possible good news, but other factors have still coaxed me into anxiety. I'm still trying to look on the bright side until I know more.) I've also thought about a book by Rabbi Naomi Levy. She has written (possibly also edited) prayers for people to utter in certain situations, like success on a job hunt, the death of a child or spouse or parent, a difficult diagnosis, the birth of a baby, or success in a specific endeavor. I was raised to ...

When I was 20, about to turn 21, I worked at a dry cleaners. The day before Thanksgiving, Dad drove me to work. I usually drove myself, but he needed the car that day. I walked in, and the boss put a frozen turkey in my arms. It had to weigh twenty pounds. I had no idea what to do with the damn thing. Dad had already left, and the turkey was bigger than our employee fridge. So it sat on the floor and defrosted, surrounded by an ever-increasing puddle of condensation. By the time Dad arrived, it had thawed through. Mom looked at it and decided we'd cook it instead of the smaller one she'd bought. (I don't remember what we did with the spare.) Because it was mine, she said I was going to cook it. I don't remember much beyond getting up early, being slightly freaked out by the innards inside the cavities, searching the exterior for feather remnants, and Mom looking satisfied that she wouldn't spend the whole day on her feet. She supervised and instructed, and she still...

Update on Freshman Composition: I got an A. I did burn out after the midterm, which means I started to get less than perfect scores on assignments. But I did everything that wasn't extra credit, and I got a perfect score on the final exam/essay, so I'm good. Not doing spring semester because I have no money, so I've started learning Spanish on Duolingo. Update on the job hunt: background check is processing. As soon as that comes through, I'll get a start date to work as a temp downtown. I think it's three months, which gives me a reprieve as far as my Unemployment Insurance benefits running out. I don't have much hope that it'll turn into a permanent position, but it's a job, it pays almost as much as my last job (without a commute that costs $140 for gas each month), and I am thrilled to have it. Update on books read in 2018: you can go to Goodreads to see how I did. I'm pleased, both with the number of books read and the average number of pag...

I read about a study some researchers in Sweden made this year about singing.  It makes sense that people singing together would breathe together.  Breath is a big part of the physicality of singing, after all.  But the study showed that the singers' heartbeats synchronized, too.  It sounds like something out of a romance novel -- their hearts beat as one, or some such sentimental rubbish -- which is probably why I smiled like an idiot when I read the article. I have always found singing soothing.  I was never fond of solo work; I get crippling stage fright, but I did it because I wanted to show off.  I really, really don't like it.  Making music as part of a group, on the other hand, is a delight.  It still satisfies my need to show off if the group is good, because if it's good, and I'm in it, then I'm good, right?  Right.  And the showing-off aspect isn't even what I like best about the whole thing.  Every rehears...

Sometimes, the only thing keeping the darkness from winning is remembering what I am grateful for: Helping to reunite a lost dog with her owner on Thursday. My favorite song coming up on my iPod.  (It's the Barr Brothers' "Beggar in the Morning."  Make it shine so pretty, make it shine so bright.) Mom's coming home in the morning. Shopping for new clothes. Practicing a piece for the chorus and getting it right on the first try. Bubba the Hutt, who wiggles with happiness when I brush him.  This makes it more difficult for me to brush him, but it's still fun. Confiding in someone and knowing he gets it. Shoe lust, even if I don't buy them. Coming home on a Friday night, putting on an audio book, washing yesterday's and this morning's dishes, and feeling the stress from another work week drop from my shoulders like a cloak.  I'll happily don it again on Monday, but I'll feel better for the break. Happy weekend, y'all.