i don’t know what i was thinking when i went off about the beauty of kids’ music in that last post. i’m not going to spend a lot of time feeling stupid about it, but i do want to clarify: the kids’ music phenomenon i don’t get isn’t when original music is written specifically for children; it’s when people make albums of kids singing, say, beatles songs, or pop songs, or something. why do kids need to hear other kids singing those songs? can’t they just listen to the originals? so i feel dumb about my blog rant, but less dumb about past conversations with other parents, because i guess i made more sense than i thought i did. i think i was, um, a little overpowered by my own hormones last week. hey, it happens.
today i went to service at the church where all the moms’ group stuff happens. it was interesting. they have a band, which wasn’t nearly as terrible as i was expecting. the band was actually pretty good, but the songs were those contemporary worship songs about how awesome the j-man is, and i really just can’t get into it. lyrics like, “i want to spend eternity in your arms” will forever be secular (um, and totally cheesy) in my mind. it was a good thing i was there alone, because the right company would’ve reduced me to out-of-control giggling (you know who you are). but basically, the songs were all right until the singer got to the end and did this strange (to me – but i’m sure it was very sincere and heartfelt), whispery, “thank you, jesus. thank you, god. lord, we love you” thing into the microphone. anyway, i sang because it was catchy, but i couldn’t really hear myself over the band, and i kept thinking about doing that thing where you kinda close off your ear with your finger so you can hear yourself in your head, but i was hyper-aware that i’d look like a total asshole, so i didn’t do it. i just sang more quietly and remained amused by the thought. and, if that last bit wasn’t nerdy enough, i took notes during the sermon. i wanted to remember what was said so i could process it better later, and so i could tell both dave and my aunt about it without forgetting important details. and because i will find any excuse to buy a new notebook (although i never thought i’d need a church notebook). i swear, i think at least 70% of my desire to be a teacher was based solely on my love of office supplies.
i had therapy on friday, and it was one of those sessions that sneaks up on you and punches you in the face, do you know what i mean? like, i went in expecting to talk about the regular old bullshit, but i ended up telling my therapist stuff that i don’t think i’d ever told anyone about. and not on purpose; like, they’re not really deep, dark secrets – it’s just that it never comes up. but when i was finished, i couldn’t believe that it had taken me three years to tell my therapist, because it all seemed so important, in terms of explaining certain of my behaviors. after therapy, for the first time in a loooong time, all i wanted to do was to go get stupid drunk. i didn’t; that’s not even the point. i guess i tapped into something i really need to deal with, eh? i think that must be a good sign.
and now i’d like to take a moment to endorse the best freaking chapped lip cure ever, in the entire world. this is no small feat, people. i’ve been putting everything from lipsyl to carmex to vaseline to philosophy kiss balm to burt’s beeswax balm to neutrogena to blistex on my lips for the past two or three months, and all for nought. the only thing that has managed to restore my lips to their lovely, natural, super-smooth, un-chapped state is aquaphor, and it only took, like, three applications. i’m throwing all that other crap out, and i’m never buying anything else. so ye of chap-ed lip, take heed!
peace out, home skillets.
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