I had a minor revelation this morning while looking at Facebook. I seldom, if ever, do status updates. I'm just not the type of person who feels that what I'm doing at any particular moment is noteworthy enough that I need to inform multiple people at once, and besides that- if I have a thought, I want to flesh it out properly, not drop 140 characters and then rush off to the next thing. Living with a four year old is choppy enough..... trying to follow her thought processes and keep up with her short attention span leaves me feeling as though I've been put through a mental wringer, and at the end of the day I want nothing more than a few solid minutes of quiet where I can have a complete, uninterrupted thought, even if it's something as banal as putting together a grocery list for the week. I think I understand now why the earpieces in Harrison Bergeron were so effective at keeping everyone at the lowest common denominator. (Bonus points if you understand the reference... One of my favorite short stories in high school.)

I've been listening to Mumford & Sons a bit recently.... I love that folk music is coming around again as the cool thing to listen to- makes it that much easier to find on the limited radio stations in this area. I've been switching back and forth between two college radio stations on my way to and from work (they seem to have a much better mix than the "we play everything" mainstream stations), and "Little Lion Man" has popped up repeatedly; so much so that I had to go look up the rest of their stuff, which is fairly catchy. I'm not sure I would rave over them, but I've hummed along with the chorus to most of their songs and it has a good feel to it. I've also been meaning to catch up on the Decemberists as well, but there just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day (especially where the munchkin is sleeping and won't ask me about the lyrics). The perils of liking dark emotive music and art when all around you the world says that as a mommy everything you partake of should be sugar and sweetness and light so it's safe for small people's consumption. Even now I don't think my mother knows that I absolutely adore Edward Gorey. I shocked the hell out of my sister by knowing Linkin Park lyrics when they were first getting popular- for some reason the entire family thought that I only listened to celtic instrumental pieces. *shrug*  I wonder if people get into ruts where they just listen and read the same things over and over because they've forgotten that there are other things they like. What I want to hear on any given day really depends on my mood. Some days are Miles Davis days, others are Metallica or Woods Tea Company or Bjork. Sometimes I don't know what I want, and then I stumble onto something that's been hidden in the back of a drawer for two or three years and put it on repeat for a solid day. I found an old mix cd of marching band numbers and couldn't stop crying the entire time they played, because it reminded me of things that I'd locked away for ages and hadn't had a chance to air. Now and again I tell myself I'm going to create a scrapbook so I can fill it with things I enjoy, and when the gray days roll around I can pull it out and remember who I am.

Today I liked portabello chicken in balsamic reduction, ukelele music played badly on a college green, nerds who are proud enough to wear t-shirts of musicals, rpgs, and old TV shows, classic black and white movies where people smoke and are mean and just fabulously real, the first cool morning you wake up and throw on your old hoodie because it's delicously soft and warm, blackberry green tea in tiny china teacups, the smell of fresh baked bread in an artisan cafe, musicians who are beautiful only when they're in the middle of making music, library books that haven't been read in years and have that old book aroma, Car Talk on NPR and the Puzzler with Will Shortz, the Sunday Times, going to bed absolutely exhausted and yet finding enough energy to snuggle with someone you love for an hour, standing outside in the middle of the night listening to the wind, and lighted candles.

And not least the half hour after the small one is asleep, curled up in a ball in the bed and breathing deeply, while I stand in the doorway and listen before slipping out to have my five minutes of uninterrupted thought while looking forward to waking up in the morning to hugs from tiny arms and requests for breakfast.