On the Rathskeller Porch

This evening I have a few moments while waiting for a friend to just....do nothing.  Of course, I'm not doing nothing....I'm starting this blog post.  On my phone.  In a memo.  Sitting on a bench outside a restaurant.  

The fact that I am in need of such moments and am yet unable to take advantage of them when they arrive is bothersome.  

So perhaps I will do the next best thing and live this moment while blogging about it.  The setting sun is caressing my neck.  A gentle, pleasantly cooling breeze wafts by every so often, breaking the summery heat and reminding me it is still spring after all.  

I just looked up and noticed there are ceiling fans running overhead, which is laughable considering I'm sitting on an open porch!  Whose idea was that anyway, and what could their motivation possibly have been?  Perhaps the same as a person writing a blog on her phone when she could be closing her eyes and snoozing . . . 

There is some kind of 60's soul being piped outside.  ("Cupid, draw back your bow...")  It seems a little sacrilegious somehow.  I'm a music buff, too, so I'm not sure why it's bothering me right now.  And I don't even hate the music...it's not like it's hip-hop! 

Maybe there's already so much noise in my brain that I am craving silence.  Or at least the absence of man-made noise.  

Am I allowed to use that term anymore?  Is it people-made?  Human-made?  I don't know . . . I still think in term of stewardesses and waitresses!  Ironically, Ranita does not.  He looked at me one day while I was distributing supper and said, "This is your job, Mom.  You're the server."  That is just so wrong on so many levels!  

But back to the idea of noise in the brain.  (Sounds like a disease, doesn't it?  Maybe it is!)  I think this blog is becoming my way of taking all that noise and organizing it into music (even if it is hip-hop-esque!).  

This blog allows me to briefly control the things in my life I really can't control.  I can't alter the storyline or the characters, but the process of putting them into words, of determining what to keep and what to leave out, of discovering meaning behind the mundane yet chaotic act of living is empowering and liberating.  

So, dear Reader, thank you for listening to my music.  Thank you for being a part of my song.