Changes on Being Judgmental

I listened to Bach played on acoustic guitars recently. It is by no means pop. I find I know much less of current pop artists than I do a few pieces of classical music. I have listened less and less to music over the years, not by choice really. It just kind if happened.
I do feel more connected to 80s, 90s and 00s music, singing words I used to know from the times I listened to the radio. I can relate to TV teenagers who would be fascinated with the guy who brooded and played the guitar for the band. I realize that there are much more interesting things to talk about with other people than the guitar-playing type.
I'm not so sure why, and how come, but I have started to become cynical about some things I used to prefer as a teenager. To be fair, they were passing fancies. Before the cellular phone selfie, I practiced using my digicam for taking selfies. I also used to enjoy just amassing random photos of the day. My digicam would sometimes have up to 500 photos for a single day, when I would document an event for my student organization. I managed my personal computer space very tightly because of that. My computer always had an empty desktop, with all the files sorted into cascades of folders, with designated categories, making sure everything was in place. My computer also had an impressive variety of songs, with whole albums, more or less downloaded from the then unchecked and unregulated sources. I streamed a few movies and some TV series, or otherwise copied files from other friends. These were a matter of course then.
These days, I have spent less time on the photographs I would take, insisting on my anonymity wherever I was. I now have a messier "Pseudo-desktop" folder, for the clutter of files I am working on in my computer (I still enjoy a clean desktop). I have transferred my old photos, music, movies and series files on external hard drives. I have felt no need to open most of them in the past 5 years. Somehow, because of the changes I have made, I feel judgmental towards other people who keep the old things in their life, or are amassing such things. I did enjoy all those things as a younger person. Simply, I no longer do.
I guess what I do want to change is my attitude of being judgmental. Just because they were things I used to enjoy but no longer do, it does not mean I have to thing less of those who currently do. Perhaps these things have their own season, and that I have only to sort, re-sort, keep some then discard some things.

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Thinking about time makes me panic

I can be very neat, and I can also be very awkward, but there are times that I can really get over that. The worst of my waking nightmares is starting the day late. I like to start early with work, because I like to fuss over method. I have a nickname, used primarily by Poy, "Turtle."
Like the turtle, time is very very precious to me. The only way I know to do my work best is step by step. I carry everything I need and might need when I work.
This week, the church I work with celebrated 39 years as a registered organization, and for the past 6 years, I have been working as the secretary. I grew into my job, and I have learned that my work style really requires me to be early. I have a habit of setting up a work station, where everything I might need is within sight and reach. I do not work fast, but I like working like an assembly line.
During the anniversary service last week, I came in 2.5 hours before the start of the service to set up technicals. A significant amount of time I spent cleaning, and a bit of time I spent delegating tasks to some helpful early birds. We finished set up after 2 hours, and the 0.5 hours I just used to calm down. At the end the packing up took 2 guys 0.5 hours to store all the equipment.
I enjoy working down a to-do list, not so appreciative of the success to the deadline, but more that I have done the task well. I do mind the time when I work, but I just feel panic with that element. I live with it, and I understand why it is important. It's like cooking a stew. It's nice when you have all day to prepare, but you still have to eat something by dinner.

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Occasional Teaching

When I can, I definitely enjoy teaching/facilitating discussion. I appreciated the method used by elementary school teachers where I studied, where they would use charts and colored paper with all the important words and concepts to take note.
I have always been an outliner... if that's a thing. I favored enumeration and sorting concepts of the same kind. Mind-mapping, linear relationships and squiggles between concepts have never been daunting.
This weekend, I am engaging in a first: facilitating book study for my church youth group. It's been a while since my last book report, and I consider this a re-training for facilitating a workshop with the use of a guide, which will be an activity I should look forward to in the next few months. I have been part of a book study group in the past, but never as a facilitator. Presuming that all the participants read the book, my job would be easy; but treading the difference between those who have accomplished this and those who have not will make my challenge more daunting.

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Waking up early used to be a thing for me

... or was it? I mean, I could wake up early when I prepare for it the night before, but to think of it, I really have a mixed up version of protest and nonchalance to waking up early since I was young.
Growing up it was just a matter of course, until the summer. Or until there was an adult who would goad me into being the best kid ever for always waking up early after sleeping early the night before.
Now, I find that I have to wake up earlier again because so much needs to be done. It seems like a good idea nowadays. Coming up in the next few posts, perhaps reflections about what in this world am I doing.

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Black Coffee

I imagined that more people drank black coffee. I cannot recall the last person who drank their coffee black, there would always be some cream and sugar. I must say that I am a low level addict. I enjoy a cup of coffee once every few days. I do try not to drink of it everyday, since I started getting headaches without the stuff. The pure cup of brewed coffee has a taste that I enjoy, by itself, but to be honest, I guess the habit came a few years ago when I got a boyfriend who likes his coffee with a lot of milk and sugar. He would get a cup of coffee and ask to split it in two. He would put in a liberal amount of sugar, as well as a half cup of milk. At the beginning, I was probably just resigned to giving up my milk and sugar packets. I have since thought that its acidity and bitterness suit a specific part of my appetite.
In a more pretentious discussion, black coffee just gave me a feeling that I had somehow grown up. Growing up, the coffee powder had a special place in the beverage shelf. My mother never kept it in the house, but my grandfather and uncle who lived in the same compound had a small jar of instant coffee set aside on the dining table. They would fill the small jar at about the same time every month, on a Saturday, after the market run in the morning, just in time for the afternoon coffee. When I was young and not allowed to drink coffee yet, I had a fascination with the way my grandfather would stir the coffee back and forth instead of around. The swirls of tiny bubbles were a peculiar sight to a child. And since then I thought that was the way coffee ought to be stirred.
Of course, now I know coffee is enjoyed differently from person to person. Sugar, cream, milk, foam, syrup, ice -- every variation has a different effect. People can have very specific preferences when it comes to coffee, and every person just likes his/her coffee just the way he/she likes it.

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