Trepidation and Resolve

I'll admit it.  I can't wait for this year to be over.  It's a silly thing, and part of me feels ashamed for it.  I feel like I've succumbed to the kind of superstition that I take every opportunity to deride.  Am I that guy that thinks wearing his lucky Yankees hat to the stadium has some effect on the outcome of the game?  Seriously, how could that possibly work?   And how could someone be so solipsistic?  Am I as daft as the astrologer who thinks the alignment of planets and stars on the date of his birth could actually have some effect on his fortune?  How would that work?  Do I stay in bed on Friday the 13th? 
It's these issues with the calendar and its arbitrary nature that now have me feeling foolish.  The only thing that will be significantly different on 12:01 AM January 1st than on 11:59 PM December 31st is that two minutes will have gone by. 

Certainly, I can look at the time period that is 2011 on this Gregorian calendar and say that, for me, it was an overall shitty year.  Yet, I could pick any day and say that this is the first day of a new phase of my life or that I'm wiping the slate clean and going boldly forward as if I'm not scarred by the events of the past and not chained by my fears about the future. 

But perhaps it is not so foolish to think that a wave of a collective unconscious will be surging across the time zones today--that people "re-setting" themselves has an impact (if ever so slight) on us all.  And though it may seem a fine line that distinguishes superstition from the belief in a collective unconscious, there is actually some science to support the latter. 

So let us all participate unabashedly in this group therapy we call New Year's Eve, and I will take comfort in knowing that, by doing so, I will not have compromised the integrity of a scientific mind.

Also, in a change of heart, I offer these resolutions:

(1)  I will listen to your viewpoint before I try to deconstruct it, criticize it, and point out the factual errors and logical fallacies therein, because I believe that is what reasonable people do. 

(2)  I will remove myself from the company of those that do not share my adherence to the above. 

(3)  My mental and physical health will be paramount.  I will work to invoke this resolution in most of my decision-making. 

(4)  I will call out anyone who uses slurs in reference to a particular race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation regardless of their age, status, or relationship to me.  I expect better from the people with whom I choose to spend my time.

(5)  I will try to share in the happiness of those for whom I care whenever possible, and I will exercise less restraint in sharing my own happiness with others. 

Have a happy, safe, prosperous and spiritually fulfilling new year!

Shower Thoughts (or "Stay Out of my Grout")

There’s something about being in the shower that puts me at ease; it helps me think. I can’t say what it is exactly. I only know that it clears my mind just enough to be able to start putting thoughts together. It could be the mechanically routine process of it. Or it could be the droning sound of the water rushing by that lulls me into some semi-trance. Maybe it’s that confined and private space that is free from distraction. This could be the reason why so many people come up with good (and bad) ideas in the shower. It’s just a hypothesis and, who knows, perhaps scientific research has been done on this. I’m not going to go there.

Anyway, I was taking an exorbitantly long shower this morning when I came up with this awful song that will probably get stuck in my head forever. It’s not all that creative, because it’s a song about mildew. Yes, a shower-inspired song about mildew. I’ve written it down below so that it will become a part of history. Of course, it’s only the words, so to get the full effect you need to imagine a jazzy swing beat with a Frank Sinatra or even a Michael Buble-type crooning in melodic fits. I think you get the idea. So without further ado (besides the ado caused by this sentence and then, of course, this parenthetical statement within it) I present to you a song about mildew:



Mildew, Mil-Don’t bring me down

Oh, Mildew, Mil-Don’t bring me down

You know I need a clean shower when my lady comes around

Oh, Mildew, Mil-Don’t bring me down

Well, she caught that plane, and she’s flyin’ into town

Oh, Mildew, Mil-Don’t bring me down

So there you have it. You’ve just wasted about twenty seconds or more of your life reading that, and actually, come to think of it, it’s not so much a song about mildew as it is about the unsuitable state of my apartment for hosting lady friends.

So today’s ‘Eureka!’ moment in the shower produced the brilliant, groundbreaking idea that, well, I really need to clean my shower.