Not to be confused with Yippee-ki-yay . . . Although, if things go awry on my first day in the office, that may very well be more appropriate.
But I digress.
So, I’m off on my new venture. At the moment I’m just hoping the ice on my windshield is not too stubborn (which tends to make me grouchy) and that the people I’m working alongside have a sense of humor (if not, it will be a long however many months).
My, how things can change in the blink of an eye. I awoke Friday to a world bright and full of Christmas cheer. Then news broke of Sandy Hook Elementary: Twenty-eight dead–including twenty children between the ages of six and seven.
Six and seven. A mere two or three years older than my nephew. Babies, though they would hardly agree. After all, kindergarten, first grade, they’re a pretty big deal. Ask any first grader and he’ll tell you–he’s ready to face the world.
They should have never had to face that.
And I just can’t get them out of my mind . . .
The principal, who called her kindergartners Kinders and saw them as 74 new opportunities to inspire lifelong learning;
Six adults who offered their own lives as a shield to the children in their care;
Twenty sweet faces, so full of promise; little lives that made such an impact, in so little a time;
Teachers and staff who hid away with children, pushing aside their own fears to read and color and offer the semblance of peace;
First responders who had to witness images we dare not imagine;
Friends and families left behind–moms and dads, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, grandparents . . . those whose loved ones were taken far too soon; those whose Christmases will never quite be the same.
For those of us on the sidelines, we want desperately to “fix” it. We call for more gun control and stronger mental health advocacy. We want Christmas festivities to cease and desist.
The thing is, we cannot fix it. We may work to make things better in the future; we must work to stand as goodness in the face of evil. But despite it all, some things cannot be remedied by human hands. It is the very message of Christmas.
So yes, festivities will continue. There will be the baking of sugar cookies and gingerbread twigs; hot cocoa will be served in vats and a Christmas feast will be prepared. But I’ll also be holding my loved ones a little tighter; I”ll shed a few more tears, light a few more candles, and gaze a bit longer at the Christmas tree. And through it all, I’ll say a prayer for those I do not know, yet cannot get out of my mind . . .
Well, the Christmas season is in full swing. How are you holding up?
It’s usually right around this time when things can go downhill–one disgruntled shopper, one unaccounted gift, one tight budget too many and you may be tempted to throw out the Christmas cheer with the burnt sugar cookies.
Alas, God don’t like ugly.
Not to mention, the season is based on peace, joy, goodwill toward men.
And that’s precisely what I’m wishing you in the coming days. A good way to get started? Watching the Som Sabadell flashmob. Have you seen it? It took place earlier this year; it’s now making the rounds on the Forward wagon. If you, like me, have an itchy trigger finger in regard to deleting said forwards, I’m attaching it here. I love the girl who climbs the light post. I love it all, actually. If it doesn’t at least bring a smile to your face, you may want to seek immediate assistance.
So without further ado, here’s to you and celebration; here’s to you and unexpected delights; here’s to you and joy so deep and true you don’t know whether to laugh or to cry . . .
Some people cannot function without loud music; others require silence. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle.
As you may have noticed, my music preferences tend to run amok. Variety being the spice of life, I love a bit of everything.
Except when it comes to productivity.
When it comes to work, I’m on a strict euphonious diet. I’m not allowed anything that will bring on a fit of dancing or the singing into a highlighter ‘microphone.’ Editing demands silence. Research calls for music–it even allows for a hint of verbiage in the songs, but even then, it must keep to the mellow side. Nora Jones’ Feels Like Home, for instance–I’ve yet to find anything that fits the bill quite like it. I don’t know what it is about that CD, but I can (and have) played it ad nauseam while compiling research. Just ask former co-workers.
And when I write? Nothing but instrumental will do.
For writing, my staples include Pandora’s Film Scores Radio and Beautiful Hollywood. Those composers know a thing or two about inspiration; like the theme to Forest Gump . . .
In a few short minutes you can grasp hope, beauty, bittersweet moments–the whole of life.
Come to think of it, it’s not only inspiration for work, but living, as well. We are getting into that frenzied time of year, you know. So if you need a bit of a reprieve, might I suggest pouring yourself a steaming mug of goodness? Maybe grab a scone or two, light a few candles–or simply sit in front of a lighted tree–and have yourself a listen . . .
Gah! I’m sleepy. No doubt you know the drill–go to bed, fully determined to get a good night’s rest, only to find sleep a wily fellow. You toss, you turn; you’re hot one minute, cold the next. You’re thirsty; you have to pee–but you don’t want to get up because that would mean emerging from the covers. To divert your attention, you make a list–then another. Then you rearrange–cross out, add to . . . stress about how you’ll get it all done. On and on it goes, right until Monday morning clocks in and the day begins.
Oh yes, it’s one of those Mondays.
So here I sit, nursing a vat of hot tea, nibbling apple-rhubarb bread, and contemplating life’s mysteries–all while avoiding eye contact with the angry pile of work staring me down.
No wonder Mondays get a bad rap–they can be so full of angst. Thankfully, there’s good stuff, too. Mondays, like life, are a hodge-podge. You have only to listen to the soundtrack to know it’s true . . .