The Ramblings of a Mental Meanderthal

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...

I've always been a picky eater.  Something smelled yucky, and I would swear up and down that I didn't like it for twenty years after, even if I never tasted it.  The only thing about this that has changed is my tastes ... I can still "dislike" something if I've never let it pass my lips. The concept of a burrito grossed me out for years.  I didn't like beans until I started to frequent Super Mex on a sort-of regular basis when I was at my previous job, and the idea of everything getting stuffed into a tortilla like that just seemed weird.  But now that I want to try making one, I can't seem to find any basic instructions on the Internet.  Fancy recipes, yes, but I guess everyone assumes you either buy frozen burritos (yuck) or else you already know how to make them. So I shall experiment tonight.  If all else fails, I have other stuff in my fridge and can make steak tacos instead. Jeans shopping this afternoon.  I almost bought some online today....

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.

Trina update, because it's been a while since I've blogged here. I developed plantar fasciitis last October while volunteering at my favorite community theater.  They put on The Rocky Horror Show every year, and I help with sales.  As a result, I ran around a lot, four nights a week for a month.  Sometimes they had two shows in a night, too.  So I've spent the last ten months wearing flats, boots, and athletic shoes.  No long walks, either, which is a bummer, but I kept myself from gaining weight by doing yoga.  I finally returned to Curves last month and have regained some of the ground I had lost.  (Or lost some of the pounds I had regained ... same difference.) Work continues as it has these last nine years.  I'm very grateful for my job, flexible hours, and amiable coworkers.  I don't mind not being able to advance anywhere else.  I help out with extra duties, including Library birthdays.  This month is my responsibility, s...

“What would happen if confident, happy, beautiful women decided to forego painful and expensive anti-aging procedures, breast lifts and enhancements, liposuction, all-over hair removal or tanning regimens?  How could that change the way their daughters, students, friends, nieces and coworkers perceived themselves and their own ‘flawed,’ lined, real faces?” Follow the link embedded in the quote.  Please. Source: http://www.alreadypretty.com/2013/04/lovely-links-42613.html In other news, my laptop has died for the third time.  Rather than sink a couple hundred dollars into fixing it again, I shall recycle it after wiping the hard drive and get a new computer.  But that won't happen until I'm finished spring cleaning in my flat, so it could be a few weeks.  Months.  Whatever.  Money will be tight for the next few months (I also need a new mattress and desperately want tickets to see Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart act in Berkeley this summer)...

Not so good thing yesterday: According to the scale at Curves, I've gained two and a half pounds in the last two weeks. Good thing today: My usual 5K walk with three hills usually takes me 70-ish minutes.  68 is my best time since I started.  Today I managed it in 65. I'm cool with this.  Having said that, however, I need to stop smelling roses and petting cats and see what I'm really capable of doing.  Consistently walking three miles an hour -- 62 minutes on this route -- is my Holy Grail at the moment. I'm wearing a new dress today.  The weather is drizzly and clouded over, so I decided to wear something bright.  It's the one that looks like how I imagine an acid trip would look.  Brightly colored vertical streaks, and a kind of keyhole neckline created by bands of fabric over the bodice.  A few of the colors are hues I normally wouldn't be caught dead in, but others are.  I've got double takes from a few coworkers and compliments fr...

So I've been walking a lot lately.  I try to get in three trips to Curves and three walks of at least five kilometers each week, but it's usually more like two walks and a trip to Curves.  *sigh*  It's got to be done, though.  So long as I get my butt in gear at least four hours a week, I consider that week to be a successful one. I'm allowed to set my own hours at work.  (I'm trying not to abuse the privilege, but I have a tendency to push limits and not stick to routines because I have the emotional maturity of a four year old.)  I come in roughly at noon, which gives me time to sleep from midnight to eight, spend an hour and a half waking up and eating breakfast, an hour working out, then an hour getting ready for work before spending half an hour on the road.  But the "Just five more minutes" tendency rules in my funny little brain, and I finally considered working out around 10:15 today.  I was putting my shoes on when I looked at the clock...