Though susceptible to emarketing, I still receive email from the Philadelphia outlet that hosts Broadway tours because if I ever set foot in New York City again, I’ll be the most surprised person out of anyone. In these emails, I expect to see notices of other upcoming shows. What I don’t expect is hyperbole to the point that I almost spit out my drink whilst reading the screen:
I have been reading metaphysical material since I was a teenager. I have let the zen wash over me so many times. In fact, when a deer took off the front of my brand new car — a car that had only been mine for 2 months — my first thought wasn’t my new car! It was it could have come through the windshield so I’m safe followed quickly by poor deer — I’m sorry I probably killed you.
These days, though, in spite of years of zen training, I’m a cell phone with just half a bar left. I keep recharging, but those who deplete (simply by existing?) keep ramping up their game. I try to zen more, but I’m a person, people. I. Am. Struggling. I’m also giggling like The Joker from time to time, for the ridiculousness of it all.
Some say it’s because Mercury was (is still) in retrograde (communication is more difficult and job suckitude increases… CONFIRMED). All I know is, I’m in deep shit once this stuff starts coming out my mouth if the zen doesn’t kick into an even higher gear. Deep breaths? To the point I can let out a breath that lasts about 10 minutes…
This song is new to me, brought to me through figure skating. I’ve found many a new song to enjoy by watching this sport my whole life. This song is now the background to a gold-medal winning performance. And it’s a new one on my YouTube video playlist. Thanks, DJ Nathan Chen, and congrats on winning the World Championships. USA! USA!
There are a million scenes like this in southeastern Pennsylvania. I’ve driven past this one a million times and, every time, I’d say, “I need to stop and take some pictures for Thursday Doors.” And I did (finally). Continue reading “Thursday Doors: (Parenthetical)”→
I’ve so done this before. The thing about life, though — similar things keep happening and you have to handle them. So I breathe and reboot, take 1,000. *clapboard claps*
I’ve held my tongue. I’ve kept my mouth shut. Until the past few weeks.
Bits and pieces came out, then a deluge of truth I could no longer keep to myself. It’s a good thing I like solitude, because once you tell people what’s really going on, they often don’t want to spend time with you after that.
This week’s Sunday Song came to me as I pulled in to the parking lot at work after lunch on Tuesday. The new soft rock station hopped in their wayback machine to the 1980s with this classic schmaltzy tune, which I then sat in my car and sang at the top of my lungs.