It's been raining here, and I've found myself spending a damn long time in the car each morning as the weather snarls up traffic and slows my commute. Thus, I make lists in my head.
Songs to go on the shipwreck-themed mix CD I'm vaguely planning:
"Henry Martin" off the first dS CD
"The Wreck of the Athens Queen" by Stan Rogers
"32 Down on the Robert MacKenzie" by Paul Gross, off the second dS CD
"Barrett's Privateers" by Stan Rogers
"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot
possibly the "Drunken Sailor" song, again off the second dS CD.
You wouldn't think due South was so heavy on the nautical themes to look at the opening credits.
There must be more good one-fateful-evening-off-six-fathom-shoal type shanties out there; anybody got suggestions? Bonus points if sharks or cannons are mentioned.
Song moments guaranteed to make my pulse spike:
That opening guitar riff in "Pinball Wizard" by the Who--it's growly and rough and perfect. The whistle/whip cracks in "Ride Forever" by Paul Gross (and me, some mornings)--somehow, those minor effects cement the images of prairie and big sky I get from the lyrics, and make me want to do something daring and foolhardy like leap off a horse galloping at great speed...
Stan Roger's little chuckle on the final chorus of "...away from Ontari-o" in "Watching the Apples Grow"--eeee! I just want to squeeze him, he sounds so cute!
That point about midway through "Hitsville UK" by the Clash where the guitars and the backup vocals and everything except maybe the bass line drops out for a couple of seconds, and the vocalist says, "So 'it it," in this super-relaxed voice. I don't know why I like this so much, aside from that I dig the accent.
I'm so tired I'm starting to nod off in the middle of my sentences. Better call it quits.
The supervisor-hero-worship complex is shaping up well. The more I see of JD, the new speech therapist, the more I like her. I watch her do therapy and I feel like I'm learning how to do stuff, instead of how to fake stuff. It's pretty cool. I like her very much on a personal level as well--she's terrifically good-natured with a mean sense of humor. The Hubster got a chance to meet her on Monday, when we had a going-away dinner for AHV, the physical therapist. There were about fifteen of us at the restaurant, so we had two tables, and the Hubster and I got there pretty early so we were at the full table, while JD was at the other. About two thirds of the way through the meal, the second table was getting rather deeper into their cups, and we happened to glance over in time to see JD illustrating some story she was telling, pantomiming frantic boxing motions, and the Hubster turns to me and says, totally deadpan, "Well, she looks dynamic."
...
I can't for the life of me think of anything I want to write about. I'm a little disappointed; it's been a while since I last blogged and I was kind of looking forward to it, but...I've gone dry. Huh. Usually just starting to write will open the floodgates, but apparently not tonight. Perhaps that's my cue to go put on some loud music and do housework or something.
So I haven't been writing much lately. I've been feeling kind of tapped out--the job is going better, as we've hired another speech therapist, but I'm still doing a ton of work. When I took over L's caseload, I also took over the paperwork for the augmentative voice synthesizer device we're trying to get for this one boy GM, and there's been a lot of faxing and fussing involved with that, because L didn't do such the great job when she started the process. Plus, I'm doing scheduling and orientation with the new therapist, JD. It's weird--she's technically hired as my supervisor, but I've totally been treating her like it's the other way around. I'm trying not to, but...I am the one who knows the kids and how the facility works. In some ways, though, it's an enormous relief--she's yet to give me the look like, "That's what you've been doing with these kids?!" Seems like I might be better at this speech stuff than I'd thought.
So far, JD is a kick. When our division boss was checking her references, she reported back to us that one of them had said, "JD's one of the most beautiful people you'll ever meet, both inside and out," and she is pretty hubba hubba. We were co-treating this one kid who's about 5 years old, and every time she asked him to do something he'd be like, "Okay, pretty girl." She told him, "You know, I like it when my friends call me J," and he goes, "Sure, pretty girl." I was dying laughing. So she seems very sweet, and knowledgeable too. If first impressions hold, I might get the supervisor hero worship complex again, like I had with BR.
New subject: this boyband slash (BBS) phenomenon that's been whipping people into a frenzy? Eh. Leaves me cold. It doesn't actively squick me--nay, I've read some writers who were quite compelling--but...I'm not sure I see where the fun is in writing characters who have such blurred outlines. There's so little to base your characterization on that you could practically get away with murder before anybody'd be able to call you on it. "I want Lance to be slippery and amoral, so I'm gonna write him that way." Well, I've never met him; it's not like I can contradict you. And what's fun about that?
BBS: doesn't actively squick me. I don't know why; Real Person Slash in general totally does. Possibly it has to do with my perplexing, vaguely sexual fondness for Hanson.
Back off, people, they're musically complex.
It's not like I want to do any of them--really, it's not--it's just that the middle brother, Taylor? The lead singer? The one who was 14 when "Middle of Nowhere" hit the big time? He's got this gorgeous gospel singer voice, full and breathy at the same time, and he does all these emotion-drenched vocalizations where he just sounds so...natural. Open. It's. Uh. Kind of sexy. In that, "Oh my God, I'm a pedophile" kind of way.
That's probably as much as I'd better say about that.
Nothing much else going on. I've been working and sleeping, and precious little besides that. Not thinking about anything terribly interesting. Not running much, because it's too fucking hot here to go after work, and I can't bring myself to wake up early enough to go before. Come the 25th, though, I'm joining that running club to train for the Motorola Marathon. Guess I'll have to steel myself to run through the heat once I'm in training.
I'm kinda wired right now, as I've had two large glasses of Coke in the past two hours. Not smart; I probably won't be able to sleep, and I'm cracked out tired.
Maybe I'll go read "American Way" again. Then I'd at least have pretty thoughts...
The top seven books about my life (idea stolen from beth666ann's blog):
"Behavior Modification through Stickers"
"Quashing the Second Rabbit Rebellion, or 'You Chew Through One More Damn Phone Cord...'"
"Stress Management through Sloth and Poor Nutrition"
"Men Who Snore Like Wild Animals and the Women Who Love Them"
"But I Just Did the Laundry: Applied Infinity Theory"
"Creating a Fantasy World of Unhealthy Proportions Using Television Characters"
"Crush Your Ideals: Six Steps to Acquiring a Low Paying, High Stress Job in the Non-Profit Sector."
