Turn the Damn Music Up

Since my plans for today kind of...fell through, in a manner of speaking, I made the rookie mistake of allowing myself to get bullied into attending a "family" lunch with my favorite "love to hate her" aunt.

Before I give anymore details I would just like to point out the following:

I was very good. I was quiet. I behaved myself. I was...dare I say it? LADY LIKE.

I spoke only when spoken to, smiled and nodded in all the appropriate places. I refrained from any and all spastic behavior and I refused to be drawn into arguments or petty sniping.

Here’s what it got me.

Aunt T: "Virginia, have you ever thought about therapy? You’re so... WEIRD."

This comment was the result of me describing what I like about my job. (Mainly, my Inmates).

Yes, what I LIKE about it.

My aunt thinks I should quit being a Saltminer and get a "real" job. She thinks I should go back to school and become a *shudder* LAWYER. Her final word on the subject was,

"Why do you waste your time with those [inmates], when you could be making some real money?"

What.
The.
F___.

Needless to say, I took a bit of a drive after leaving the restaurant.

Here’s what I think...

The louder the music... the better.

I firmly believe that there are days in which I should just get in the car, turn the music up until it vibrates in my sternum and just drive until everything goes away.

I recommend this sort of therapy to anyone and everyone.

Personally I consider it a form of meditation, since it has the effect of completely cleaning my mind out. Focusing on nothing except the road and the beat is help you can’t pay for.

Besides, I was never a big believer in analysis to begin with...

TURN THE MUSIC UP, DAMMIT.