i don’t want to go to work today. it’s beautiful out: rainy, foggy, green grass greener than the crayon in my box. the wind is blowing, but it’s still warm enough to have the windows open.
this is a day for writing, and imagination. this is a day for creativity, inspiration, and a long nap with a kitty and a mushed up pillow. this isn’t a day to be indoors with grumpy patrons and testy people who only want you for an ear to bend about their list of life long problems. this isn’t a day for weird people who alter your energy because they are from another galaxy far away and have been sent here to warn the earth about impending doom because we haven’t been drinking the right kind of water.
this is a snuggly day, for peace and relaxation and … snuggling. not work.
damn i hate mondays.
today has been …. interesting. right now the wind outside is fierce and howly, the sky dark and foreboding, and the trees are shaking so much they look like villains in a horror movie. but it’s been a lovely, melancholy rainy kind of day.
it didn’t really start out that way at first. i had a trigger this morning.
usually a trigger that makes me switch personalities, or go into a post traumatic type of mindset is fairly upsetting; a violent scene in a movie, or a killer with an axe is a sure bet; loud, thumpy music that invades my home via the neighbor’s car; smells i can’t avoid. all these things can trigger me and send me into a panic, or switch me right out of my current personality and into something/someone i’m not prepared for.
today, however, it was a cartoon! just lounging around the house today as my sister got ready for work, and she had on old cartoons. i love the Flintstones, so i was surprised when i became anxious while watching an episode, and so distressed i had to turn the channel. then i was just flipping out for a while. something about this particular episode triggered me – one of me anyway – and it took some fresh air, a little rain, and Jimmy John’s to make things right in my world again.
damn dangerous cartoons!
The sky darkened above me today, while I walked my walk through the streets. Clouds filled up like pregnant ladies and burst their bundles all over me, soaking me from head to toe.
I don’t mind. Walking through town in this rain is interesting, though. Streets normally full of traffic-rushing and lunch-getting are quiet and calm in the rain. Looking down the street there should be hundreds of cars headed my way, but instead there is a vast expanse of shiny asphalt, reflecting back lights and shimmering like a magical path in a fairy tale.
I smell toast as I pass the houses and cars; and coffee, and also some bagels wanting some cream cheese. I smell the delicious scent of earth and dirt, as I meander through Poncho Park. There is something sweet here – perhaps a sugary treat dropped by a child – dancing next to aromas of cigarettes and exhaust fumes. Warm concrete wet with new rain, and the touch of moist grass to top off the mixture.
I heard recently that the sense of smell is the weakest sense in humans. There are times (i/e: when working with the public) that I would appreciate a weaker smeller a great deal. I, however, have super smell, and can often identify a brand of perfume just from walking into a building, or the smell of an egg salad sandwich eaten six hours ago, but somehow still lingering about the lunchor.
This super power allows me to enjoy a million little things that go unnoticed by others: someone lighting a candle on a rainy day, perhaps to sit and read a good book by; the fresh laundry smell that squeezes through the house and brushes my nose with its clean, happy scent; and the smell of life, which seems to be toast and coffee for me – scents that say it’s time to get up and start another day. Live. Be alive. Go make something of this day.
I’m not really sure when it started.
I can’t really put a finger on the day I realized that I have a thing for benches. At some point in my life, I just started to notice that whenever I walked by a bench I tended to sit on it. I would be in the middle of a conversation with someone, walking along a street, and then suddenly they would turn around – mid-sentence – and find me sitting on the bench, swinging my legs.
“Sorry,” I’d say with a big Cheshire grin. “I have a thing for benches”.
It didn’t really matter if it was raining and the other person wanted to run to their car to keep their hair from getting messed up. I just told them I’d catch up.
It didn’t matter if we were going to be late or if we were in the middle of a very serious, vulnerable conversation. It just didn’t matter. I had to sit.
I don’t know what caused this particular neurosis, or if there is a name for it, but I have to sit on a bench when I’m around one. But once I’ve sat on one, I don’t have to go sit on all the rest in the area; that one will give me the fix I need.
Maybe I was a pigeon feeder in a past life, and the fond memory of the birds coming to my feet to eat seeds, bread, and popcorn draws me unknowingly to these interesting pieces of furniture. Maybe my philosophical side yearns to sit, just for a moment, and consider the deeper things in life while my physical side is making its way to the used book store.
I’ve never really known anyone else that has this problem, this “Leg Narcolepsy” that forces me to collapse happily onto a hard, uncomfortable structure. I wouldn’t normally select a long piece of hard wood to sit on, or a cold length of heavy metal. Not my idea of leisure resting. But when it’s a bench I manage to set aside my discomfort for the sheer pleasure of the sit.
So here is my thing with benches, and more to follow, I’m sure. Though very utilitarian and practical, I find them works of art on their own.
Used to be I was a drone bee, like all the other drone bees. I would wake up at the ungodly hour of 6:00 in the morning, get ready, go to work, bustle about with whatever I was supposed to be doing -half asleep because I hadn’t had enough coffee – and spend the entire day doing what everyone else was doing, which was thinking about all the things we COULD be doing instead of working, like playing video games, or going to the movies, sleeping in, having sex, or spending some money at the local mall. I told you, this was some time ago…I don’t really go to the mall that often anymore. Unless I need some cute earrings from Claire’s, or something sassy from Hot Topic. Shut up; yes I HAVE seen that South Park episode and it’s hilarious. I still shop at Hot Topic.
Today makes me glad I finally gave up working the normal work-a-day business hours to go rogue. It’s raining steadily right now at twelve noon. I went for my walk, as the rain poured down on me, and breathed in the smell of toast that permeated the air. Lunch time, I guess. I still hadn’t had breakfast. I had a chance to see a baby muskrat running through someone’s yard. I got to hear the morning church bells, which always remind me of Switzerland. I made myself a cup of coffee, wishing I had my secret ingredient to make it Russian style, and sat myself down to write out a little blog. Perhaps I could squeeze in some work on my Twilight Zone project, if time allows.
Back in the day I wouldn’t have the chance to do all this. Back in the day, I would be collating paperwork right now, or ordering up lunch for some executives, or wondering why my boss’ deposit slip never seemed to match the till. (hint: weed growing in the back yard, which I didn’t find out about for a long while) Back in the day I would have missed this glorious morning of green grass, mama Robins and soggy britches. I would already be indoors, wanting to get out, waiting to be released from work so I could have an evening walk full of traffic and cars honking and people driving home hungry for dinner and drunks that started getting happy quite a while before the appointed hour.
So it’s a good thing I finally happened to start taking jobs that allowed me to go into work at 3:00, or 5:00 even. And it’s a good thing I finally discovered I was a writer. And also, not much of a morning person.
These three words always set the mood for pondering, don’t they? Immediately we think of a famous, well beloved general lying on his deathbed, encouraging his soldiers to be stalwart with his last breath. Or maybe it conjures up sad romantic endings in your mind. The lovers parting at an airport, rain pounding the pavement, and he whispers out “We’ll always have Paris”. Damn. How am I ever going to get to see Paris if this old guy still has it? Stingy. But what are you supposed to call all the other words? All the funny sayings in between the long goodbye and the last goodbye? Take for instance my niece. She’s a beautiful young woman now, gorgeous, funny, kind, silly. She is interesting and curious and sweet. And yet she has so many good little sayings that I repeat in my head often, because they make me laugh. Like the time she was in the locker room with her mom after they’d had swimming lessons. She was probably only three at the time, and as they took off their swim suits, she looked up and said in a funny little frowny voice, “Them you’re boobs or sumpin?” She did very much want to be a cowboy at that age. Or a football player. Or ballerina. Then there was the time she was half scolding her younger sister. This might have been at the ripe old age six, when younger sister was asking about the difference between boy hardware and girl hardware. She was conspiratorial as she said to her mother, “Whew, it’s a good thing she didn’t use the F word.” “Hmmm,” said mom, curiosity getting the better of her, “and what word would that be?” “Fagina”. Ahhh, the stuff stupid sitcoms are made of, only funny. Funny enough that I tell all my co-workers this little story as often as I can, and sometimes total strangers. Like you. Because this is hilarious! But certainly not her last words. So what do I call these little, hilarious sayings I am bound to quote a thousand times before I die? “Famous last words of a child?” No, child isn’t dead. That sounds like the child is dead and those were the last words before death. “Funny words of a child?” No, that’s just stupid. Kids say the darnedest things sums that up better, and obviously that has been taken. Wait, some of you might be too young to know that was a famous book and I believe a TV series back in the day of black and white TV. Yes, television used to be black and white. God, didn’t you ever even look at your schoolbooks? Oh well, I guess I’ll have to work on this and come up with something unique and witty. Any suggestions?
i don’t drink it every day. i wonder why? it’s so delicious smelling, and warming, and makes me feel so much like a writer, and today was the most coffee-drinking day i could have, so here i am, cup in hand.
fall has always been my favorite season; i love the colors on the trees. colors i don’t always know the names for. colors that capture my attention and whisk me away into a surrealistic painting trapped somewhere in my imagination. i love the smell of fire places and burning leaves, the smell of snuggling. i’ve always loved the coolness of the weather, and the advent of sweater wearing – though sweaters decidedly lose their novelty after several months of harsh winter. still, with football and crunchy leaves, Halloween and cider, fall brings a bucket of joy with it.
today’s walk through the park led me to a new tree-friend. a twinkling yellow tree, whose leaves were so happy and energetic, i had to go say hi. millions (or lots) of little yellow leaves waved at me as i came closer, and i saw that there was a sign under the tree, declaring it to be a Gingko Biloba tree. i had no idea my local park had a Gingko Biloba! i gathered up a pocket full of the little flyers from the ground and thought my day to be quite magical thus far.
pockets full of treasure i journeyed on, past my little Poncho tree who is all decked out in yellow, past the squirrels digging out or putting in a stash of nuts, past the stone lions and their diligent perseverance, and past the ghost girl who sits in her attic room practicing the flute. my other park had a blanket of leaves waiting for me, and as it began to rain steadily, i visited the river to say good morning, and finally lay on my back under a tree. i know i’m crazy, so don’t bother reminding me. it’s not usually something that is far from my mind. i know that if anyone was actually out on a day like today (the weather channel calling for severe thunderstorms) they would have wondered what the *#&! was wrong with me. but i couldn’t resist. i was tempted to make a leaf angel, but the whole park was so gloriously decorated i couldn’t bare to disturb the scene. so buried under leaves was the park, i couldn’t tell where the grass met the path, and just plundered over everything until i collapsed at last, like i said, on my back.
and there i lay, looking up at the sky as the rain beat down on me and chinked off the trees, pavement and wrought iron fence. and the leaves came tumbling down around me. this fall, since the trees have been shedding, i’ve been telling myself that i have wonderful great fortune every time i see a leaf fall. sometimes my great fortune is so great, i can’t keep up, and just stand in a shower of wonder. so as i lay under a sky of wet kisses, i called off my wonderful fortune as the stars fell on me, and listened to the murder of crows gathering in a nearby tree. and the love of the universe just fell all around me, and the peace of life just embraced me in its arms. and i walked home finally, soaked to the skin, deliriously drenched, and supremely content. i peeled off my wet layers of clothes, slipped my turquoise satin robe over my bare skin and set about making my cup of coffee. for wondrous things happen when you combine coffee with a fall day…
Today is a gigantic orgasm.
It’s October – in Michigan – and I’m wearing a tank top, with the windows open. The birds outside are hosting the first annual American Idol Avian competition, and everyone sounds pretty good so far. My wind chimes are the accompaniment and I’m not sure who the judges are, but if my vote counts, I’d have to pick the group of birds on the neighbors roof over the blue jay flying around.
Meanwhile, the cars drive by my house with their speedy shells racing along, kicking up leaves on the street, which dance in the wind for a while before landing on the damp ground again. It rained quite a bit last night and this morning, and the half rainy day is peaceful, relaxed and harmonious. For me. Right now. ‘Cause I’m on my couch writing and breathing and enjoying, and not out running errands or attending funerals or anything like that.
But I’m trying to learn to see the silver lining in everything, and when I’m looking at life through that lens, it seems there are so many treasures around me, I lose count of my blessings! Food in the fridge and in the cupboard – check. Body parts all accounted for and working – check. Heart full of hope and desire – check. Money in the bank – well, sixty cents is still money, so check.
Like I said; today is a big orgasm.
today my morning walk was magical. i don’t know if i have mentioned here how very much i love the rain, but i do. i will probably write a full blog just on that, but for today my concentration is on the continually refreshing experience that is my (almost) daily walk. on the way to my park, i swing through a cul de sac that i love, and there i found a truly unique treasure. i walked past a terminally falling leaf, suspended in air, like the slow moving bullets in the Matrix forever drifting toward the ground. it hung in the air like it was drawn there, by some great graphic novel artist who thought it looked best in mid air. on further examination i saw that it was hanging from a small spider strand, but it looked for all the world like a bit of confetti that never quite got to its destination. then came the park, and the litter on the ground. usually i hate littering, and i don‘t know why the fishers that come to this park can’t figure out how to clean up after themselves. bunch of lazies. but today, the mangled remnants of a red plastic Solo cup looked like rose petals, strewn about under the park bench in a ritualistic display, certainly intended for magical purposes. at this park i also came across a good looking, scruffy faced skateboarder, who would go perfectly with my sister…if only i’d remembered to bring my butterfly net, i could have scooped him up and carried him home with me. and then the fabulous fall of leaves that came tumbling down around me. it was like i was trapped in an autumn snow globe, that i guess would be called a leaf globe. it was beautiful, and charming, and completely whimsical. another happy moment in a curious life…