Photo: Plastic Mind

… Hosanna Hey Sanna Sanna Sanna Ho Sanna Hey Sanna Ho Superstar …

That scene is my first thought anytime anyone says, “Palm Sunday”.  Are you familiar?  There’s a rock band playing.  Ted Neely, playing Jesus, is riding a donkey.  People are dancing in the streets.  Oh Andrew Lloyd, your musicals do amazing things to me.  RENT (which is not Webber’s) in my favorite, but even in a world before this girl found herself in a church, Superstar was in second place.  I can sing it from top to bottom.  I’ve seen it on stage … more times than I honestly recall including a badass interpretation set in a 1950s Revival Tent (though crucifying people in 1950something was a little odd, the rest of it worked magically).

(Now that I think about it … all of this should have probably been a sign or something …)

It’s the kick off to Holy Week, and as I mentioned the other day, I feel like I should do something extra so far as Lenten sacrifice goes.  What that thing is, I still don’t know.  The first thought I had after, “Hey, I should so do something extra for Holy Week” was …

Well …

No, that can’t be it.

Then I thought a million more times about it.

What should I do?  What should I do?

Well, there’s that one thing.

No.

I don’t think so.

I’m imagining things.

You’re kidding, right?!

I totally talk to myself like that (in my head) on a regular basis.  Please lie and tell me you do the same thing.

Ugh.

But I don’t want to.

Am I supposed to want to?  Yea.  Probably not.

(I’ve literally been staring at this blinking cursor for the last 5 minutes trying to decide if I should keep typing or just can this whole idea so no one knows if I screw it up.)

Think.

Think.

Think.

Stop thinking and just do.

Confession Time …

I am a smoker.  Not a chain-smoking-lady-in-a-bingo-hall.  It’s a habit, yes, but a pretty mild one by comparison to oh … most smokers in the world.

Time Out: In case you were about to mount a comment crusade on the evils of smoking, I’ll have none of that.  No one lives under a rock anymore.  There are warning labels a plenty for what you’re about to post.  You can keep the stones you were about to cast, thanks.

Time Back In …

I really enjoy the occasional smoke break.  The peace.  The quiet.  The nostalgia.  The sociability.  The calm.  I linger.  I savor.  I really, really, really enjoy the moment.  If there were ever something pleasurable and luxurious in my life that could be sacrificed, this is it.  It was my first reaction.  It will not be fun.  I’m really compelled to do it, though, to offer up this enjoyment as an extra promise for Holy Week (after which, I make no promises).

I think I might be crazy.

Really, really, really frickin’ crazy.

7 days and counting, loves.  What are you doing extra this week?  Misery loves company.

Em.

Advertisements