Welcome to Friday Fhoughts, Folume 3.
I randomly wrote a few things — you know, fhoughts — a few Fridays ago. Now, in its third week, it’s a thing, y’all.
Welcome to the randomness of my brain at the end of another work week (sorry, weekend workers!).
Just imagine as you read what it must be like to be in my head all. the. time.
… … …
Anyhoo, a few random Friday Fhoughts:
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:
Rob Lowe: Hollywood actor and screen legend.
Oh, take a seat. This is going to take a few…
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.
These three things, they randomly are.
Written quick, read by those afar.
Drivel, pointless; thoughts, disjointed.
Very low blogging bar…
Welcome to a random day when my brain is all WHAT? And when that happens, it’s all like, “Share this with the people!”
I weathered the week. I weathered the weather. To recovering from the withering all that weathering caused, I turned to music. My internal jukebox offered up this week’s Sunday Song selection more than once each day this week. What can I say — even my jukebox-y brain has a sense of humor. (‘Tis true that you could say almost any word to me and a song will drop and start to play.)
I’m a musical gal, from my wee days taking piano and drum lessons, to my current stint in a community choir. Listening to music is what going to church is for some, so I celebrate with Sunday Song. Each week, I post a song that’s been my earworm for the week or something that reflects what’s happening in my world along with a wee story why.
I’m a musical gal, from my wee days taking piano and drum lessons, to my current stint in a community choir. Listening to music is what going to church is for some, so I celebrate with Sunday Song. Each week, I post a song that’s been my earworm for the week or something that reflects what’s happening in my world along with a wee story why.
When contemplating change, in addition to traditional INFJ (over)analyzing, I pay attention to the world around me, which I believe sends me signs. I don’t go looking for signs — that defeats the purpose. But if something comes my way, and I see / hear / experience it, and it makes my brain go, “Look! A SIGN!” then I take notice. I contemplate then what the sign may be trying to tell me and where it fits into the contemplating process.
Such a farce, a tease, a carrot on the end of a stick that was so much further away than I realized. The day I thought I turned a corner, I did — but only to get hit by a second truck I never saw coming. I was better than I had been, but not well. The true meaning of that word wouldn’t arrive in any real way for another five days (read: until today).
So I’m recovering, still (sinuses are in a battle for their lives as we speak). I get out of the shower last night, super exhausted.
I think to myself, “You know what you need? You need a really good night’s sleep.”
Now, this wouldn’t be a This Is How My Mind Works post if that’s just how it went. The self-conversation actually went like this:
To myself: “You know what you need?”
My inner Samantha Baker, to me: “You need 4 inches of bod and a great birthday.”
Me, to me, as well as Samantha: “No. You need a really good night’s sleep.”
… Although, a birthday would be nice. Mmm. Cake….
Note: If you don’t know that I often speak in movie quotes and/or song lyrics, and/or you’re not familiar with Sixteen Candles, thanks for reading this post that doesn’t make a lick of sense to you anyway.
