Tuesday's recess was a full half hour of dancing. All over the house. In my striped athletic knee socks, and with Jack jumping along beside me.
We danced in the living room, we danced in the kitchen, we break danced in the hallway, and moonwalked through the laundry room. We did the chicken dance, and we walked it out - and I laughed and laughed when I saw the UPS guy looking through the door at Jack and I - as we danced to MGMT.
Dancing is one of the best ways that I know to lift my mood - in just a few seconds. It raises my heart rate, gets my mind thinking on other things entirely - (like the beat of the song) - and gets your blood flowing - which lifts my mood, so quickly.
You don't have to dance for an entire half hour. It was kinda difficult to do that...honestly, I kept hearing the phone ring - or thinking of other things to do: but, when I was just letting go and dancing - I was having so much fun!
I think that's part of the challenge with recesses, for me: Letting go and allowing myself to have fun. By allowing, I mean - actually giving myself permission to be silly for 30 minutes before I get back to the "serious" work at hand. Like emails, and expense reports, and budgeting. Etc, etc.
To inspire you: here's one of my favorite dancers of the moment - in two of his performances from Ellen. You're gonna love this kid:
Now, go-dance!
i had my first foray into the american justice system - behind-the scenes.
i mean, i've had a couple (plenty) of tearful traffic court appearances - but, today was my first time ever serving jury duty. i'm convinced that i was served with a summons SOLELY because i recently voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries, and i made a big deal about it - and, so-i pay my civic penance.
i had no idea what to expect - but, i did know that i was supposed to dread this, entirely. that it was supposed to be one of the most eye-roll inducing recollections of my life, at some point- and so, dutifully, i postponed my first jury summons date-and put it off for a month - so i could really dread it, and build up lots of resentment.
it worked. at least the dread part. by last night, when i was cutting my weekend short-so i could go home and get to bed at a decent hour, i did kinda resent the fact that they served me with an 8am start time. and, i suppose at about 6:15 this morning, when i was shuffling to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face-i was feeling just a tid bit bitchy about my civic duty.
today was the first day of school for lots of texans - and, i suppose i shared in their jitters last night, because i didn't sleep hardly AT ALL. my stomach was all knotted up, i was tossing and turning. i seriously get freaked out about being faced with new situations that i know nothing about...and when those new situations involve policemen in uniforms, and scary looking judges up on elevated platforms, and long waits in a room where i have to be quiet and listen, intellectually....well, it kinda sounds like my idea of hell.
by the time i was parked, seated, given a 18 digit number, shuffled through the system, taken to the basement, taken back up to the street, walked down three city blocks (police escort and all-felt like a field trip, to me) to the criminal courts building, marched into a cargo elevator, and whisked away to the 17th floor-i think it finally set in that i might actually get selected to sit on a jury of a criminal trial.
i clowned around with the guys in line with me. we laughed a lot - and were able to get the bailiff for the next door courtroom to fill us in on what was happening in his courtroom. seems that a local dentist was thought to have posted up some hidden cameras in his dental clinic bathrooms. recording footage of patients - you know...takin' care of business. luckily, the grey haired, bearded man in line next to me was a total clown-because we went back and forth for about 20 minutes with one-liners on that, alone.
by the time we were seated, inside - and assigned NEW 2-digit numbers that we were to answer to-it was getting close to noon - and that wooden bench was starting to suck.
"juror 58."- that's me, now - i'd been called by the sandy haired, young, plump DA. "would you have objections to seeing an 8-year-old called to testify against their mother in a court of law."
"absolutely." i replied.
elements of the trial began to be revealed - and, i became increasing uncomfortable with the entire situation. we were being asked, over and over again, if we could be "objective" and "fair" in certain situations. some of the situations, despite my willingness to try, i found-i could not be neutral on. sitting on a potential juror panel is not one of the situations i would have considered to be a soul-searching experience...but, can i just tell you-i was looking at myself long and hard today, and what i found didn't entirely impress me. but, it didn't entirely disgust me, either. (which, if you know me...you know is a step in the right direction.)
it became apparant, about an hour into potential juror questioning, that this case was involving criminal responsibility for the conduct of others - or, in this case, a mother was being accused of forcing her child(ren) to break the law for her personal gain.
throughout the questioning, the defendant's attorney kept calling on me. perhaps because i was so candid with my thoughts, needless to say, everytime they called me "58" - the ting tings "that's not my name" rang through my head.
i kept imagining what it would be like to turn that courtroom into my very own music video...
luckily-i was "released" at around 2:30 or 3pm - and was able to jam out allllll the way home.
i think it might have been the comment when i used the word "enraged". or then again, maybe it was because they could tell i'd been daydreaming of smoke machines and hot pink electric stratocasters...
either way, it's good to be an american. and it's even better NOT to be a juror, tonight. :)
i mean, i've had a couple (plenty) of tearful traffic court appearances - but, today was my first time ever serving jury duty. i'm convinced that i was served with a summons SOLELY because i recently voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries, and i made a big deal about it - and, so-i pay my civic penance.
i had no idea what to expect - but, i did know that i was supposed to dread this, entirely. that it was supposed to be one of the most eye-roll inducing recollections of my life, at some point- and so, dutifully, i postponed my first jury summons date-and put it off for a month - so i could really dread it, and build up lots of resentment.
it worked. at least the dread part. by last night, when i was cutting my weekend short-so i could go home and get to bed at a decent hour, i did kinda resent the fact that they served me with an 8am start time. and, i suppose at about 6:15 this morning, when i was shuffling to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face-i was feeling just a tid bit bitchy about my civic duty.
today was the first day of school for lots of texans - and, i suppose i shared in their jitters last night, because i didn't sleep hardly AT ALL. my stomach was all knotted up, i was tossing and turning. i seriously get freaked out about being faced with new situations that i know nothing about...and when those new situations involve policemen in uniforms, and scary looking judges up on elevated platforms, and long waits in a room where i have to be quiet and listen, intellectually....well, it kinda sounds like my idea of hell.
by the time i was parked, seated, given a 18 digit number, shuffled through the system, taken to the basement, taken back up to the street, walked down three city blocks (police escort and all-felt like a field trip, to me) to the criminal courts building, marched into a cargo elevator, and whisked away to the 17th floor-i think it finally set in that i might actually get selected to sit on a jury of a criminal trial.
i clowned around with the guys in line with me. we laughed a lot - and were able to get the bailiff for the next door courtroom to fill us in on what was happening in his courtroom. seems that a local dentist was thought to have posted up some hidden cameras in his dental clinic bathrooms. recording footage of patients - you know...takin' care of business. luckily, the grey haired, bearded man in line next to me was a total clown-because we went back and forth for about 20 minutes with one-liners on that, alone.
by the time we were seated, inside - and assigned NEW 2-digit numbers that we were to answer to-it was getting close to noon - and that wooden bench was starting to suck.
"juror 58."- that's me, now - i'd been called by the sandy haired, young, plump DA. "would you have objections to seeing an 8-year-old called to testify against their mother in a court of law."
"absolutely." i replied.
elements of the trial began to be revealed - and, i became increasing uncomfortable with the entire situation. we were being asked, over and over again, if we could be "objective" and "fair" in certain situations. some of the situations, despite my willingness to try, i found-i could not be neutral on. sitting on a potential juror panel is not one of the situations i would have considered to be a soul-searching experience...but, can i just tell you-i was looking at myself long and hard today, and what i found didn't entirely impress me. but, it didn't entirely disgust me, either. (which, if you know me...you know is a step in the right direction.)
it became apparant, about an hour into potential juror questioning, that this case was involving criminal responsibility for the conduct of others - or, in this case, a mother was being accused of forcing her child(ren) to break the law for her personal gain.
throughout the questioning, the defendant's attorney kept calling on me. perhaps because i was so candid with my thoughts, needless to say, everytime they called me "58" - the ting tings "that's not my name" rang through my head.
i kept imagining what it would be like to turn that courtroom into my very own music video...
luckily-i was "released" at around 2:30 or 3pm - and was able to jam out allllll the way home.
i think it might have been the comment when i used the word "enraged". or then again, maybe it was because they could tell i'd been daydreaming of smoke machines and hot pink electric stratocasters...
either way, it's good to be an american. and it's even better NOT to be a juror, tonight. :)
i've been practicing guitar all morning - and, i'm sad to say, i sound waaaay worse than phoebe singing "smelly cat", today.
as a matter of fact, my guitar playing has so frustrated me - that i envisioned smashing it to bits at one point, this morning.
that happened about the 15th time i attempted to play a B minor or F chord - (bar chords) - and was just effing muting the strings, again.
anyway, i've attempted picking up guitar at least 3 different times in my life-and have always abandoned ship-simply finding it too frustrating.
i keep telling myself that "3rd time's a charm" line -
but, tell that to my clunky fingers, who seem to only remember how to get back to "G". i mean, at least my fingers are good and calloused - so, i've got that goin' for me.
it's a good thing that i live on my own, because i have a feeling that if someone else had to be subjected to my practicing all morning-we would cease to be friends any longer.
i imagine that it'd go something like this, "look, hillary - i'd really rather listen to kevin federline's 'popozao' album than listen to you." at which point, i would quietly go back to my room, and nibble on my newly calloused fingers, as i tried to figure out if maybe harmonica is MY instrument. or the kazoo? yeah, or maybe the slide whistle.
i think it's time to change it up: i need some private coaching. like this:
as a matter of fact, my guitar playing has so frustrated me - that i envisioned smashing it to bits at one point, this morning.
that happened about the 15th time i attempted to play a B minor or F chord - (bar chords) - and was just effing muting the strings, again.
anyway, i've attempted picking up guitar at least 3 different times in my life-and have always abandoned ship-simply finding it too frustrating.
i keep telling myself that "3rd time's a charm" line -
but, tell that to my clunky fingers, who seem to only remember how to get back to "G". i mean, at least my fingers are good and calloused - so, i've got that goin' for me.
it's a good thing that i live on my own, because i have a feeling that if someone else had to be subjected to my practicing all morning-we would cease to be friends any longer.
i imagine that it'd go something like this, "look, hillary - i'd really rather listen to kevin federline's 'popozao' album than listen to you." at which point, i would quietly go back to my room, and nibble on my newly calloused fingers, as i tried to figure out if maybe harmonica is MY instrument. or the kazoo? yeah, or maybe the slide whistle.
i think it's time to change it up: i need some private coaching. like this: