The Amused Life Playlists: Mentality

05/03/21

This week's Musical Monday is dedicated to something I think is beneficial for everyone at least once in their lives. Therapy. I am actively trying to figure out what my brain needs right now as either the after effects of covid or the year of self-isolating or the years of self-sabotaging are just wearing me down to where the happy pills aren't as effective as they once were. So back to the drawing board...sometimes you have to keep working at the work in progress you are. Here's a curated sampling of music that is meaningful to those needing to seek that support. Enjoy! 

https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/380e808000714d60af964ca4378e16f2sune?ref=dm_sh_8e3a-9204-fdfa-c8ba-5f4f2

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BOXING in the KITCHEN: Hello Fresh!

OUR FIRST MONTH OF BOXING IN THE KITCHEN: Boxed dinners that is provided by various great options and we have paid for our boxes so these responses and reviews are completely our own and not compensated by anyone; and with that - here we go! THE COOK'S EXPERIENCE (ERIK'S SIDE/HE SAID) When my significant other suggested that we try cooking at home, I was really excited. I was thinking to myself, now I can show off my culinary skills and introduce her to the cooking of my childhood. She suggested that we try the box subscription, Hello Fresh and immediately I could hear my mother in the background of my brain saying, "I taught you how to cook, you're better than that." From a cook's perspective, I really enjoyed cooking the Hello Fresh kits. They came neatly prepared and ready to go. The instructions were so simple, it didn't take a lot of time to prepare them. I get off of work at 5:30 pm so by the time I get home and take the fur kids out for a little bit...

Writer's Wednesday: A Poem About A Failed Relationship

HE WAS A WORDSMITH Poem by Anna Maria Terlinden Rogers He was a wordsmith. I hold him in a memory. I am beautifully resilient. I have always been. I am blessed by that. You were my Achilles' heel, the wax I built my wings out of as I tried to fly towards the sun, the shine on those 30 pieces of silver that I betrayed a Messiah for. You were the chink in my armor, the fruit that I wanted to taste just because I wanted knowledge, the person I would have let cut my hair, allowing you to leave me weak. I am blessed to have survived. I always do. I am beautifully resilient. I hold him in a memory. He was a wordsmith.

I'm Tired of Dancing with My Past

It's a routine I've known for at least 30 years. I know it like I know the feel of each bump on my skin as I rub my arms. A familiar 8 count of part self-flagellation, part-curiosity it's a dance I do in the wee hours of the morning when my mind is still running around like a kid on pixie sticks at a birthday party rental at the dance studio. I point my toes and leap, deep diving into the familiar dance routine and steps...search google, look up "XYZ" and just tap dance through posts to see how life is treating them. It's when you stumble trying to remember dance steps that you did when you were in your twenties that you realize you're getting too old. The bones hit the floor harder these days and when you come across a post dated 2015 where you are referenced as a "much-needed and much-desired divorce", you realize that the old wounds from your early years still throb a bit every now and then. Mind you, I wasn't completely floored by that ...

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