Perhaps it is my mood. Perhaps it is in my mind. BUT I have been feeling a malaise of meaninglessnes. That I am not accomplishing anything at all.

Sigh

I was reading Jasmine by Mukherjee, who is an Indian writer. She is Hindu, and she talked about how in Hinduism is the idea that the most important thing in your life could be the most mundane and insignificant thing.

She was saying that the story that dieties could be stung by a bee that would alter the course of the universe. And the human that placed the vase with the flower on it on their table that particular day…Which attracted the bee…which stung the GOD…was vital to the flow of the universe.

So, you never know what part of your life will alter the cosmos.

I wish I had that sense of importance today.

I do not feel as if I am accomplishing anything of importance.

But maybe it’s just my mood. Maybe I’m still tired from the time change. Maybe I’m still getting over my visit with a crabby co-worker yesterday.

But the fact that no one really cares what I do with most of my time…that’s sad. It’s nice to hear other’s appreciation.

It just takes a lot of mundanity.

But you know what? It just occurred to me today…Organization (which I so dearly love, and into which category falls “meaning”) is like dishes.

I do not enjoy doing dishes. They so quickly become undone. The so quickly become soiled and require the same exact repeat of what I just finished doing!

Why can’t dishes stay done?

But they can’t.

And somehow, organization and meaning don’t stay done. They require the same repeptive action to put them into order again.

Circles and cycles again and again.

We’re getting ready for Easter. Here is is again:
Death
LIFE!

…to fall into decay and death again…

and to be ressurected AGAIN

The cycles circles

and meaning must be reborn every time it dies

Things that made sense to be yesterday don’t always make sense the very next day.

and certainly, ideas that made sense when I started this post may morph into a whole other meaning by the end of the post.

One thing I know, my feelings never stay the same. They always change. At least, the bad ones do…

well, I am going to think a little more about the need to constantly re-do meaning. Maybe I’ll have time to post about it.

But I suspect that the meaningless mundanities will take up all my time.

Hmmm…thoughts are floating around in my head today.

On the way in to work, I listened to Instapundit’s podcast on Marriage and Caste. Ms. Hymowitz has a lot to say, and talks about how marriage is a very valued institution in America.

She also mentions that in the 50s, people got married even younger than ever before. Younger than now, that’s for sure. My best research says ladies got married at age 20, on average.

Now…about the 50s…I spent this week sick at home in my cute house.

That house that I love so much and am renovating to look modern, just like the time period it was built, in 1950.

It is staggering, how much was changing in the 50s. They talk about the 60s being a time of revolution, but that was just the people catching up with…well…everything!

okay, the teens and 20s were wild and crazy and full of ideas and wealth. Yes, the wealth and ideas were churned by the Great War, what we now call world war one. Hopelessness, the Flu that killed almost anyone that was left standing after the trenches were abandoned.

Meaning? God? What did that mean to anyone at those times? Wild and free to be…wild and free.

But then the depression knocked the wind out of everyone. Resources? Invention? Everyone was too busy making sure they could eat.

Well, Hitler came along and saved us all by being as evil as anyone could be. Hooray! Let’s fight him. Let’s everybody fight him.

And in doing so, the economy got back on it feet. There was fighting to be done. And work to be done at home, Rosie. There are ships to put together, and enough work for even the ladies to have paying jobs.

They worked, and they worked together. Everyone sacrificed for a reason. We won the war, evil was smashed and the world was once again as it should be.

But all the pressure that the century had put on people up to that point exploded into the 50s.

It’s hard for me to understand how modern the Modern age of 1950 was. How very very much had changed as how fast.

I was researching paint. They said that there were colors that were invented for the first time, because they had the chemical know-how then. That the pinks and pastels and bright colors finally got to be used.

The war had rationed even colors.

And the depression…well, that was entirely in Black and White. Like Fred and Ginger.

Refrigerators and washing machines. And those incredible cars! Modern and sleek and dreamy.

And what did people want to do with this beautiful new world of promise?

they wanted to get married. and live in little houses with a yard and a garage.

and as soon as possible, thank you very much.

We look back at these stories. Ozzie and Harriet. Leave it to Beaver.

I’ve always thought of them as traditional. But they were not. They were very very modern.

which is kinda blowing my mind right now.

On the other hand, why not have a cute little family in a safe little house that has every comfort in it? In so many ways, isn’t that the pinnacle of what we could wish for?

Not the 60s kids, though. They had to tear it down. They wished for anything but.

maybe because they already had it.

Hmmm……

proof that chris is has a marshmallow center

Originally uploaded by murphy_h2001.

Chris and the cat Skellig have long ago become friends. They both rattle around in our house all day, mostly just the two of them. Chris spends most of his time sitting in his office chair doing work.

Skellig, however, has many many uphostered and/or soft places he enjoys lying on. He is a great connoisseur of places to nap.

There is one spot that is a rare napping delicacy: Chris’s office chair. It is almost always unavailable, since Chris sits in it.

But if the cat has his mind set, he waits and hops on as soon as Chris gets up for something.

In this photo, Skellig is curled up, sleeping as cutely as possible, mere minutes after Chris got up and vacated his seat.

Me, I would have kicked him off and gone back to work.

Not Chris. He went an got a bare wooden chair to use, and quietly-as-possible, moved the kitty over until he could get back at his work.

I have long suspected that he is made out of marshmallow.