A touch of melancholia stains the Blackwood residence this week. I chalk it up to illness and the weather. I could also be drained from the euphoria of hearing Kate Bush's first album in twelve years. The day after it came out, I just lay on the floor listening to it and spiritually taking off. Hearing her voice again was wonderful beyond all expectations. And her music is magnificent. I can't believe she let us contemplate "The Red Shoes" for twelve years. At last we can all forget "Rubberband Girl."
I'm trying to hang on to her energy and generosity this week, but it's a little hard. The holidays are always a time of professional reckoning. I was hired around this time & have to survive my yearly review; I also have to weigh whether it's worth staying in a job that gets increasingly static and mediocre. Obviously this year I'm leaning toward "not." I can't remember my last really good night at work. On the other hand, what else could I do? I'm not very disciplined and have a limited skill set. I feel stuck. What would Kate Bush do? She would probably sit down at the piano, and I do have that option...
At least there's a midnight "Goblet of Fire" show to look forward to. As "research," I am going to make a martini and read some fanfic. Outside, you can actually hear winter blowing in. It's supposed to drop something like 30 degrees tonight.
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