I was probably unfair to the SLT setting of "Jerusalem" the other night: it's not all that harmonically distant from the traditional Parry arrangement (which Marion was kind enough to scan and send to me), but it sounds overly modern to my ears because its chords don't have enough notes (and because it's still the wrong melody for the poem in question, and because I'm not yet practicing enough to play either version without lots of accidental accidentals, and also because my sinuses are still the size of pumpkins, which tends to skew my perspective on the world).

The closing hymn at church this morning was "O What a Piece of Work Are We," a traditional Southern tune with words by Malvina Reynolds. I misspoke, in my intro - I had it in my head that Reynolds had also composed "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?", but the song I'd been misremembering was "What Have They Done to the Rain?". (Since one of this year's study/action proposals is "Nuclear Disarmament," and that was mentioned during today's services, it would have been nice to have gotten that right. Ack.)

In any case, both the music and the words have a goofy lilt to them, but I like the overall sentiment:

O what a piece of work are we, how marvelously wrought;
the quick contrivance of the hand, the wonder of our thought.

Why need to look for miracles outside of nature's law?
Humanity we wonder at with every breath we draw.

But give us room to move and grow, but give our spirit play,
and we can make a world of light out of the common clay.

[Via marymary: Mike Snider's "This Morning's Man" riffs on a variation of this theme.]

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It being the first Sunday of the year, there were quite a few first-time visitors. During introductions, one couple mentioned that one of their New Year's resolutions was "to start going to church."

The minister's husband couldn't resist quipping, "Ok, see you next year!"

Me, to the congregation at large: "We celebrate many traditions here, including multiple New Years. You will have more chances to reset your resolutions as needed."

(The theme of the service was "comedy." Afterwards, a young Chinese-American man came up to me and demanded (I think hopefully), "Was this service typical?" It was definitely lively...)

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Yesterday's highlight was having coffee with Socrates, where we talked about how cool ky_expatriate is, why high school kids need to learn economics, why owning a house can be such a pain in the tuchis, which audiobooks we actually enjoy, reviewing applications, and other things. I was telling another friend this morning that I love spending time with S. because he's so good at what he does (teaching English / coaching speech and drama); it entertains me, hearing him assess plays and books and students from the point of view of an experienced teacher and director.

(In a conversation with the BYM on New Year's Eve, I found myself observing that one of the reasons I click with M'ris is because she makes zero apology for being good at the many things she's good at. It's a reason I enjoy attending EO events from time to time -- in general, I'm usually one of the more intense, impatient, results-oriented people in any given room, and it's refreshing being among a crowd where everyone else in the room is Type Alpha Triple Cubed and I can just kick back and admire everyone else being energetic and confident. After all these years, I still remember Socrates giving me a talking-to during GSP (where we met) on how self-deprecation is not a charming trait, it's annoying and manipulative. (He phrased it more nicely than that, but that was the gist, and it was an eye-opener.) I don't have time right now to marshal together my various encounters with socially encouraged (and sometimes culturally enforced) humility, insecurity, and faux-modesty , but now that I'm thinking about them, it might make for a good sermon. Especially considering how I find it so wretchedly hard sometimes to discern how best to respond: when is it part of a superstition or ritual that needs to be respected; when is it a momentary faltering of confidence vs. a constant demand for confirmation that one will be loved/respected/supported no matter what; where is the line between compassion and pandering; and isn't it aggravating when an honest self-assessment gets misread or misheard as a plea to be reassured otherwise? Also, there are likely some angry feminist poems circling around the concept of "arrogance" I should probably get out of my system sooner rather than later...)

*retrieves entry from clutches of massive tangent* Anyway, seeing Socrates was a pleasure (as was the excuse to stop in J&J's for an hour).

It was so mild today (currently temperature 60 F) that I left my overcoat in the car while running errands. Bliss.

I had hopes of getting more done tonight, but that's going to be true of all the other nights this week. I'm trying to stick to the current plan of going to bed whenever I realize I'm tired (no matter how many things I have to put off writing, filing, cleaning, or reviewing) unless I'm truly up against imminent doom a deadline I either cannot reasonably ignore, or if the project's not-doneness has reached a point where it will just keep me awake until I do more about the not-doneness. So, to bed!

[Subject line from Mike Snider's poem.]

[ETA: link to sermon added 1/13.]