There's no accounting for taste

My mother plays the piano.

My mother plays the piano at old peoples' homes for the benefit of the residents.

My mother plays old standards--the music that was popular when the old people were young people.

This thought struck me the other morning. I am currently in the bracket mostly labeled 'young people'. (I feel like I'm hurtling toward the 'old people' bracket with a speed that can only be described as ludicrous, but never mind.) The young people bracket, as a demographic, have a certain collective taste in music. This has always been the case. Throughout history, old people haven't been satisfied unless they could turn to each other and tut and roll their eyes and moan about the rubbish the young people of the day were listening to. 

So...our rubbish, yeah? What's going to happen when we're all old and gray and relegated to assisted living facilities and the nice lady who coordinates the activities thinks having someone in to play the piano for us would be nice?

I mean, can you really hear T-Swizzle's Blank Space as a solo piece? 'Cause I sure can't.

I'm sure we've got some popular music these days that will lend themselves to future singalongs at the ol' geriatric garrison, certainly, but you have to admit that most of our modern music just doesn't quite work in that sort of quaint little setting. I also don't see us all in our wheelchairs rocking out to Smashmouth's All Star while some poor high school kid who is just trying to do a bit of community service because it'll look good on his college applications tries valiantly to plunk out the bass line on a piano that hasn't been tuned in about seventeen years.

Actually, I can kind of see that. It's hilarious.

That whole blue sky thing is starting to be suspect

Well, the sky was actually blue today. You know, blue? The color it's supposed to be, according to all those picture books you had when you were a kid?

It's sad when 'adequate' air quality is exciting.

But that's not what's on my mind right now. 

I've noticed a thing going around the internet about a 25-day pushup challenge or something similar for mental health awareness. Call me crabby, but I have a firmly ingrained distaste for 'awareness' campaigns. We're all aware, believe me. You don't need to dump ice water on your head to prove that you're aware. It's not a competition. You don't need to be more aware than other people to prove a point.

I mean, you can, but no one likes a one-upper.

Here's the thing, kids. Awareness is all very well and good, but doing the Little Teapot dance for people with housemaid's knee is a bit like trying to fix the hole in the dyke with a stapler.

It accomplishes very little, really.

So here's my alternative suggestion:

-Call your pal who lives with a mental illness (or several). They'll appreciate hearing from you.

That's it. Seriously. Care for your people, people. And it doesn't have to be someone you know is living with rabid brainweasels. Some of us are really good at keeping it under wraps. Just make a bit of extra effort and reach out to, well, anyone, really.

Things are kind of awful. We could all use a bit of a pick-me-up. Hi, friends. I'm thinking about you.

And what did the Four Horsemen bring *you*, Timmy?

 The skies are ominously, nuclear-fallout-y orange today. It's creepy. I don't like it.

 I think that bright spot in the center might be the sun?

Anyway, I managed to forget all about you last week, what with my new, very hectic work schedule and getting ready to go visit my parents as a surprise for my mother's birthday, so...sorry about that. (Except kind of not because I doubt I had anything interesting to tell you about and I was kind of losing my mind a little.)

Here's an (edited) version of a text I sent to a pal today in response to her inquiry as to my wellbeing:

"[I'm not able to stay inside] 100%, but the time I spend outside is 'house-car', 'car-office', and reverse. I'm anxious and everything is out of control. Our hours got cut but I am SUPREMELY grateful that I still have a job, even though it's more job in less time because on of our team WAS let go. ... The sky today is giving me the wibblies, and did I mention that I'm anxious? Because ::gesticulates at international garbage fire with smaller but more on-fire national garbage fire:: I want to snuggle up on the couch and watch cartoons and eat garbage and could I also please have a hypoallergenic therapy puppy because--and stop me if I've told you this already--I'm anxious."

So yeah, that's where I am these days. I'm sure you're not in too different a spot, all things considered, though your air quality might be better...you lucky duck...