"Once a dream did weave a shade o'er my angel guarded bed..." William Blake.

It's a line from a poem, long ago forgotten by me, and yet that line stays, forever etched in my conciousness. Parts of that poem still reverberate, fragmented, split apart by too much other stuff and nonsense. I can't put it all together to make it whole. But that line forever stays fresh. Most likely because to me, that is such a beautiful sentiment. "Once a dream did weave a shade o'er my angel guarded bed." May all our beds be guarded by angels.

There's something so wonderful about childlike joy. It's an obvious thing, I know, but it is so rare that I actually get to give into it anymore. When I worked as a tutor for Americorps, I could give into it more regularly. You can when your work day consists of working with Kindergarteners through fifth graders. Today, actually right now, I'm in the midsts of a rubberband shoot out with my co-workers 10 yearold son. It's bring your child to work day so she brought her son. We're in a detante right now because there is a customer in the building. As soon as that person is gone, however, it is ON! Wherever you are today, see if you can do something similar.

I have a funny little habit at my job, actually at both jobs. When someone hands me their license, I look at their birthdate and mentally note what astrological sign they are and if they have a birthday that is the same as anyone I know. The man I just waited on, for example, is a Cancer with the same birthdate as my uncle. I do this all of the time. I suppose it's just me and my useless information thing kicking in again. Does anyone else do this?

In the Philharmonic Chorus, we are going to be singing "Carmen" at Artpark this summer. (For those of you interested, July 16 and 17.) This is a particular challenge for me, not only because it is a very difficult piece to sing and I am a horrendous music reader and, thus, must learn everything by ear, but the language is what is really killing me. I have to confess that I am one of those Americans that can only speak English (although I can speak English English and American English!). I took Spanish in highschool. My pronunciation was terrific but my memory for the words was shit. In College, I took Latin. Don't ask why. I just did. And after college, I wanted to teach myself French, and boy do I wish I had succeeded, especially now with "Carmen". The pronunciation has stymied me! And some pieces are so lightening fast! I doubt I could sing that fast in my own language, much less one that I'm not familiar with.

Usually, I wind up doing performances on a wing and prayer, and magically, they work out. I suppose I shall just have to trust this one to the fates as well. If it's a system that works, why change it now?

I believe that the word "hate" is in far too common usage. It cheapens the word. I, myself, am guilty of this. I "hate" everything- smoking, mushrooms, cockroaches, idiot drivers, stupid people... the list is endless. Now, I believe that I am required to up the ante, from plain old "hate" to "loathe". But why? Where will it end? I'm going to take a personal stand to bring back the true meaning of "hate!" and not use it for the trivial. This seems like an odd statement, even to myself... bring back the true meaning of "hate? No, I'm not about to go on some insane rampage, just do what I said and stop using it for the trivial. I think boredom is starting to get to me. Even I don't really understand me today!