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ten thirty is too early to have to go to bed
I keep meaning to post, but d'you know, the more I procrastinate, the more daunting the post becomes. Things keep on happening -- little things, mostly, but things I feel obligated to write about for my own posterity if not your entertainment. (And I feel both as though I am harried and have too much pressing on me, and that there isn't anything to occupy me at all. I'm restless. And confused, but confusion is pretty much like breathing oxygen anymore.)
Well, the weekend will be busy; Dad's church has got an Easter party tomorrow morning and I am slated to awake at six thirty, which I am not looking forward to (and should probably start working on any minute now; I seem to require an obscene amount of sleep). I'm hoping it goes well, as we're trying to draw some more people, particularly families, to our church, which is currently very small and in need of growth. There will be food (breakfast), and -- I'm singing. Which I am kind of not very prepared for, so. Okay, they're easy songs, and I've mostly got them down, and they're the sort of folk songs that my voice wraps itself around the most easily, but I am nothing if not perpetually nervous and paranoid anyway.
Sunday is Easter. Where did that come from? All of the holidays have been springing up on me unawares this year, and Easter being unusually early does not help. I missed St. Patrick's Day entirely -- it was a Saturday, and I was out and about, as usual, and I didn't even listen to the radio. Or wear green. Or put on Solas, or the Chieftains, or anything. Actually I feel as though I've been missing a lot; days are going by much too quickly and insubstantially, and yet why do I feel that the moments are dragging on? Even spring -- I've been longing for it, and then suddenly -- oh, well, look, birds. Go back to my breakfast.
Easter is always an awkward holiday for me, as I may or may not have mentioned before, because I never feel like I get it right. I feel like it ought to be sacramental, like it ought to feel important, like I ought to feel more solemn or at least think about something, but I get up and watch the sunrise, eat a doughnut, put on a pretty dress that's entirely inappropriate for the weather, go to church, have a nice lunch, and then sleep off and on most of the rest of the day, and I think -- where's the reverence? Maybe everyone else is getting it and I'm not. I don't know. So I'm confused all over again every year.
And now I really ought to practice "By the Mark" about forty more times and force myself to sleep. World, why do we run on different clocks?
Well, the weekend will be busy; Dad's church has got an Easter party tomorrow morning and I am slated to awake at six thirty, which I am not looking forward to (and should probably start working on any minute now; I seem to require an obscene amount of sleep). I'm hoping it goes well, as we're trying to draw some more people, particularly families, to our church, which is currently very small and in need of growth. There will be food (breakfast), and -- I'm singing. Which I am kind of not very prepared for, so. Okay, they're easy songs, and I've mostly got them down, and they're the sort of folk songs that my voice wraps itself around the most easily, but I am nothing if not perpetually nervous and paranoid anyway.
Sunday is Easter. Where did that come from? All of the holidays have been springing up on me unawares this year, and Easter being unusually early does not help. I missed St. Patrick's Day entirely -- it was a Saturday, and I was out and about, as usual, and I didn't even listen to the radio. Or wear green. Or put on Solas, or the Chieftains, or anything. Actually I feel as though I've been missing a lot; days are going by much too quickly and insubstantially, and yet why do I feel that the moments are dragging on? Even spring -- I've been longing for it, and then suddenly -- oh, well, look, birds. Go back to my breakfast.
Easter is always an awkward holiday for me, as I may or may not have mentioned before, because I never feel like I get it right. I feel like it ought to be sacramental, like it ought to feel important, like I ought to feel more solemn or at least think about something, but I get up and watch the sunrise, eat a doughnut, put on a pretty dress that's entirely inappropriate for the weather, go to church, have a nice lunch, and then sleep off and on most of the rest of the day, and I think -- where's the reverence? Maybe everyone else is getting it and I'm not. I don't know. So I'm confused all over again every year.
And now I really ought to practice "By the Mark" about forty more times and force myself to sleep. World, why do we run on different clocks?
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My mom was actually talking about this today, and how in Catholicism especially the Easter weekend is taken which such pain and mourning. She said that some people in the Phillipines literally crucify themselves, but only long enough to cause them pain, not long enough to kill them. But still, that's incredible! I don't think God expects us to come anywhere near that sort of respect for the Holiday. And anyway, it really isn't the actual day he rose from the dead. It's just a day. You can celebrate and feel the appreciation for the crucifiction and resurrection anytime during the year. I always get down on holidays that way. Because it doesn't really matter. A day is just a day, but what is celebrated on certain days should be celebrated all year round (like mothers & fathers, our nation's independence, love, and irish people! :P).
So, I'm watching The Sound of Music for the first time in several years, and I hate to sound ridiculous in this observation, but is it just me, or was Christopher Plummer amazingly handsome? ^_^
I hope the service goes well for you, dear! I've never sung in front of an audience (save for the 43 kids at drama during auditions), so I think you are very brave for doing so! :)
God bless you, and Happy Easter! ♥
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