So, this post isn't about attachment -- although, it could be considered a commentary on human development. I am in the process of living through what has to be one of the most shocking regressions of modern times. My Type-A left hemisphere has officially denied existence of my more... well, "artist colony" personality traits for the past 15 years, but being in between formal jobs for a Summer at my ripe old age has confirmed it. Managing myself without a schedule of regular work commitments is basically like herding gerbils. An unrelenting case of "cabin fever" in June was a confirmed diagnosis this afternoon when I realized I was doing barre exercises to Beck's "Loser" and contemplating calling my relatives to ask if I could do their laundry. My greatest fear is that soaking in internet re-runs of "Glee" and "Wipe Out" will magically transport me back through time to about 16-ish, minus the extreme make-over. If Type-A turns its back for even a minute, my too-creative, sensory-seeking side persuades my left brain to go to lunch without me... and it's all glitter and disco balls from there. Thankgoodness the cat destroyed the pom-poms in the mid-90's and the arches in my pointe shoes were officially demolished by my "increased functional load under gravity" during the previous semester break. To combat my "Summer funk thang", I've enlisted with the local hospital auxiliary to shed some idle hours and prevent too much irreversible mayhem (i.e. tattoos, anyone?). Hopefully a peach apron and regular contact with people over 60 will hold back the technicolor tide that wants to sweep away my ivory tower of OCD-ness. Two months plus one day until Fall semester convenes... call in the troops, or in this case the show choir.
Click to hear Glee's version of Beck's "Loser"
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