"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost."
--Gustave Flaubert (1821 - 1880)
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Balance
The city was settling down for the night. Despite it being the middle of July, there was a chill in the air. I zipped my sweater up the rest of the way and crossed my arms around myself, trying to keep in what warmth I could. It was a weeknight and I should have called it a night an hour ago, but the company was rare enough that I'd decided to make an exception. Besides, I'd been sleeping early lately.
"You know, I used to stay out way later than this all the time. This used to be early for me. Weird."
"What happened? You going soft already?"
"I don't know. No one's around now that keeps the same hours as I used to. I've had to adjust to fit everyone else. It's lonely being nocturnal nowadays--it's not like you're around to do late-night stupid with anymore."
"True."
We strolled along down the side walk towards our destination: to get a post-midnight coffee and to sit on some ridiculous stone bench at his request. I didn't question it. We had to weave our route through forests of scaffolding and then dodge around off-hour construction and traffic before we accomplished our mission of a warm beverage and a cold seat.
"There's nothing wrong with it. It's perfectly good. But I don't know."
"I know what you mean--it's good enough and it could work. You can make it work, but you don't really want to have to make it work."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, I know. We're the type that could make anything work. We can be stubborn that way. But then, with stuff like this, this is the kind of stuff we just want to 'happen,' right?"
"Yeah. I mean, I COULD do it. I could wait. It really IS a good thing."
We sipped in silence. The coffee warmed my hands. The monument at our backs blocked the wind a bit.
"Why are we sitting here again?"
"It's a tradition."
"Oh."
It dawned on me that it'd be a long time since I'd had any conversations like ours that night. I used to be able to have them all the time.
"I've pissed in that bush so many times."
"Great. That's just great."
We chatted sporadically a while longer before we got up and headed back to where we'd come from. There were few people on the street--the longest one in the world--save for the construction workers. We played a sort of backwards Jenga with our empty cups, balancing them on the overflow of garbage from the public bins--if the cup stayed on the pile, we technically weren't littering. After a few seconds and a light breeze, his cup became litter. But we'd crossed the street by then.
"You know, I used to stay out way later than this all the time. This used to be early for me. Weird."
"What happened? You going soft already?"
"I don't know. No one's around now that keeps the same hours as I used to. I've had to adjust to fit everyone else. It's lonely being nocturnal nowadays--it's not like you're around to do late-night stupid with anymore."
"True."
We strolled along down the side walk towards our destination: to get a post-midnight coffee and to sit on some ridiculous stone bench at his request. I didn't question it. We had to weave our route through forests of scaffolding and then dodge around off-hour construction and traffic before we accomplished our mission of a warm beverage and a cold seat.
"There's nothing wrong with it. It's perfectly good. But I don't know."
"I know what you mean--it's good enough and it could work. You can make it work, but you don't really want to have to make it work."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, I know. We're the type that could make anything work. We can be stubborn that way. But then, with stuff like this, this is the kind of stuff we just want to 'happen,' right?"
"Yeah. I mean, I COULD do it. I could wait. It really IS a good thing."
We sipped in silence. The coffee warmed my hands. The monument at our backs blocked the wind a bit.
"Why are we sitting here again?"
"It's a tradition."
"Oh."
It dawned on me that it'd be a long time since I'd had any conversations like ours that night. I used to be able to have them all the time.
"I've pissed in that bush so many times."
"Great. That's just great."
We chatted sporadically a while longer before we got up and headed back to where we'd come from. There were few people on the street--the longest one in the world--save for the construction workers. We played a sort of backwards Jenga with our empty cups, balancing them on the overflow of garbage from the public bins--if the cup stayed on the pile, we technically weren't littering. After a few seconds and a light breeze, his cup became litter. But we'd crossed the street by then.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Afternoon quote browsing
I write quotes up on my windows at work. I was looking for some new stuff to put up, and came across a bunch that weren't quite right for my window, but were definitely asking for comment from me on my blog...
...
"And when he is out of sight, quickly also is he out of mind."
--Thomas à Kempis (1380 - 1471), Imitation of Christ
Oh so many girls I know--and guys too--need to learn this. Stop the stalking on FB. And then if he is out of sight but somehow remains on mind, THEN perhaps you can take the time to consider why he isn't around anymore.
...
"Don’t blog what you don’t own."
--Lisa Williams, Bloggers In Love, SXSW 2006
Or else give credit where credit is due. But actually, I read this as being "Don't post shit up that you either don't want others to see, or that you can't defend." I don't do either. Read away all, read away. I like writing stuff when you enjoy yourself, and I still like writing stuff, even if you don't.
...
"I have lost friends, some by death...others through sheer inability to cross the street."
--Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941), The Waves (1931)
I think I can think of two who never learned to just look both ways. But then, as above, I don't tend to do things out of spite or malice. My real friends will always come back, as I will not hesitate to chase after the good ones I might stand to lose.
...
It's been Friday ALL day.
...
"And when he is out of sight, quickly also is he out of mind."
--Thomas à Kempis (1380 - 1471), Imitation of Christ
Oh so many girls I know--and guys too--need to learn this. Stop the stalking on FB. And then if he is out of sight but somehow remains on mind, THEN perhaps you can take the time to consider why he isn't around anymore.
...
"Don’t blog what you don’t own."
--Lisa Williams, Bloggers In Love, SXSW 2006
Or else give credit where credit is due. But actually, I read this as being "Don't post shit up that you either don't want others to see, or that you can't defend." I don't do either. Read away all, read away. I like writing stuff when you enjoy yourself, and I still like writing stuff, even if you don't.
...
"I have lost friends, some by death...others through sheer inability to cross the street."
--Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941), The Waves (1931)
I think I can think of two who never learned to just look both ways. But then, as above, I don't tend to do things out of spite or malice. My real friends will always come back, as I will not hesitate to chase after the good ones I might stand to lose.
...
It's been Friday ALL day.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Almost like you're actually there...
It's amazing how technology these days can help you feel close to those you care about, even if you're all the way on the other side of the globe. It's also amazing how technology these days is not always easy enough for everyone to use well...
"I don't know how to use Photoshop. This is the best I could do with Paint."
Ehbaba, we miss you too...
"I don't know how to use Photoshop. This is the best I could do with Paint."
Ehbaba, we miss you too...
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
After hours
I don't know what it is with me being drawn to the nocturnal hours. I'm not just talking about liking to burn the midnight oil. I'm more talking about being out and about after most everyone else has settled in at home or have already gone to sleep. I was thinking about it just now as I slotted myself in for some after-hours grocery shopping at the local "open-late" store.
I think it has to do with the fact that I like to wonder about other people--wonder what their stories are. And I guess if a person is able to do things during the "normal" hours of operation, then I can make fairly educated estimations at their lifestyle fitting the 9-5 grind. But what of those other people? Why are they in the store so late? Why couldn't they do this earlier?
If you pay attention, I find that those off-hour shoppers are usually dressed in garb that tends to help fill in the blanks that I've drawn.
Scrubs = hospital/health care worker
Sport uniform = late game
Professional uniform = slipping out on a lull/break to get groceries
PJs = student scrounging on study break
The stories that these people might have to tell could be wild. And we all know how I love stories. Perhaps that's what draws me out at night--maybe to discover someone's story, or to perhaps play a part in it.
...
There was one time I was studying late at a Tim's by myself, when a man approached me and asked to use my cell phone which was lying out on the table. He was very polite about it, explaining that he'd run out of change for the pay phone, and would only be a few moments, but only if my air-time was free. After weighing it in my head for a split second, I consented, and proceeded to show him how to unlock and dial the call.
He thanked me and excused himself to sit at the table next to me, and turned his back for what little extra privacy that would afford him. I went back to my readings, not meaning to listen, but being aware of a complete stranger using my phone. While I tried to absorb some more of my text, I couldn't help but notice how soft his voice had become. I caught but a few snatches of his conversation.
"...I'm sorry, I ran out of change...miss you...are you sure?...please...nice to hear your voice...I can come by..."
True to his word, his call only lasted a few moments. He returned my phone to me and smiled through his thank you, and then walked back out of the coffee shop, into the night. I returned to my studying, but what ended up lasting longer in my memory than the words I was to be examined on, were those few moments of connection, lent to a stranger.
...
"When you do the common things in an uncommon way, you command the attention of the world."
--George Washington Carver
Or at least you command my attention as I secretly try to write your story late at night in the grocery store. :)
I think it has to do with the fact that I like to wonder about other people--wonder what their stories are. And I guess if a person is able to do things during the "normal" hours of operation, then I can make fairly educated estimations at their lifestyle fitting the 9-5 grind. But what of those other people? Why are they in the store so late? Why couldn't they do this earlier?
If you pay attention, I find that those off-hour shoppers are usually dressed in garb that tends to help fill in the blanks that I've drawn.
Scrubs = hospital/health care worker
Sport uniform = late game
Professional uniform = slipping out on a lull/break to get groceries
PJs = student scrounging on study break
The stories that these people might have to tell could be wild. And we all know how I love stories. Perhaps that's what draws me out at night--maybe to discover someone's story, or to perhaps play a part in it.
...
There was one time I was studying late at a Tim's by myself, when a man approached me and asked to use my cell phone which was lying out on the table. He was very polite about it, explaining that he'd run out of change for the pay phone, and would only be a few moments, but only if my air-time was free. After weighing it in my head for a split second, I consented, and proceeded to show him how to unlock and dial the call.
He thanked me and excused himself to sit at the table next to me, and turned his back for what little extra privacy that would afford him. I went back to my readings, not meaning to listen, but being aware of a complete stranger using my phone. While I tried to absorb some more of my text, I couldn't help but notice how soft his voice had become. I caught but a few snatches of his conversation.
"...I'm sorry, I ran out of change...miss you...are you sure?...please...nice to hear your voice...I can come by..."
True to his word, his call only lasted a few moments. He returned my phone to me and smiled through his thank you, and then walked back out of the coffee shop, into the night. I returned to my studying, but what ended up lasting longer in my memory than the words I was to be examined on, were those few moments of connection, lent to a stranger.
...
"When you do the common things in an uncommon way, you command the attention of the world."
--George Washington Carver
Or at least you command my attention as I secretly try to write your story late at night in the grocery store. :)
Friday, July 03, 2009
Yo momma
Looooooong story short, I had a dream last night and realized how hard it must be for lesbians to have children. Not that they couldn't find a sperm donor or anything, but what of the female that's not the mother? She technically has nothing linking her to that child but love. She doesn't go through the pregnancy, she cannot breast feed once the baby's born, it was not her DNA that makes up one half of the child...I guess the only way for it to be "fair" is for that couple to have another child together, this time the other female being the "mom."
...I guess by now you can figure what I dreamt about... :s
...I guess by now you can figure what I dreamt about... :s
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