Yes, I am already Hip

When any wordpress user signs in to check on the ol’ blog, he or she is presented with a question:

“Already hip?” is written above the entry box for your username. It kind of rolls with my need to read things in that I HAVE to read it every time in sign in. Like a ritual. Does that make me un-hip that I have to read it every time? AND I also respond, every time. I go, “Hmm. Well, yeah, I suppose I AM already hip.” And this means I am talking to no one.

Rituals are funny things. My boss just mentioned someone who taught himself to do a door check: upon exiting his house, he pats his front shirt pocket, side pants pocket, and back pants pocket to be sure he has his keys, wallet, and whatever resides in his front shirt pocket. To the unknowing eye, though, it looks like a self-prescribed genuflection. It also occured to me, being the girl who has been in “Fiddler on the Roof” twice, that his motions at the entry of his home could be likened to kissing the mezuzah. Presbyterians don’t typically genuflect or kiss mezuzahs, but we do automatically sit and stand when met with certain musical cues. Another time I am conditioned to rise is when ever I hear “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah.

Sometimes I feel like I am stuck on a conveyor belt when it comes to automatic responses. And this is without having OCD. I turn on my indicators for a turn way too early, but I can’t help it. I always order the same things at restaurants. We got our dog stuck on morning and evening rituals because we’re so flippin’ predictable. I generally always park in the same spot in the parking lots of work, the grocery store, church, and in the same spot at the edge of the yard where Octave rehearses. Weird. I should mix things up.

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