It was a little treacherous driving in to work, but it sure is purty. And lovely dry wafty. I may not be so cheery and idealistic about it after a good stint of dog walking at the Humane Society later today, in 20°, but then again I may. It can be frustrating and messy to deal with, but there's a little voice that tells me, about snow: if you can't enjoy this, your ability to enjoy things needs work. Inner child thing, maybe. In any case, if I take the premise that there are things you have some choice about enjoying or being miserable about, I'd like to aim at honing my skills, at habitually going for, the former, as much as I can manage. When hormones cooperate. Etc.
I was just telling wednes how I've had that old song in my head---the one that's sung by ghosts (old men ghosts in tails, dancing stooped over with canes) in Everybody Says I Love You:
C Am7 Dm7
Enjoy yourself; it's later than you think.
G7 Dm7 G7 C
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink.
C C7 F
The years go by as quickly as a wink ---
Dm7 F C Am Dm7 G7 C
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself: it's later than you think.
I'll have to try out those chords later.
I was looking at that Bertrand Russell again---The Conquest of Happiness. Reading around the icky misogynist, racist and classist moments. The main thing I get from him is that tone, that basic approach, of what you might call "when you really think about it." Kind of a boiling down meeting a rising above, if you will.
One benefit of aging should be, could be, is: perspective.
Ach. Gotta get back to work. This here is just some of what I've been a-cogitatin' and a-meditatin' on.