Seeking to escape the soccer fervor that has taken over my workplace’s break room I went out for lunch today. Besides, I had my own victories to celebrate. I made it to the end of another week without un-aliving anyone and I discovered a frequent buyer card with only the slot marked “FREE” remaining.
I’m so glad I did because that’s where I witnessed a Random Act of Awesome! (Why did she capitalize that? – Don’t worry you’ll find out.)
It’s 8:30 at night and I haven’t eaten anything in hours. I’m starving. I hate having to eat. Where’s my Jetsons future with flying cars and one button push automated food delivery systems built into every home? Better still, where are the little fucking full meal pills I can toss back and force down with a few gulps of whatever liquid is handy?
It’s two days before pay day and my options are limited. The kale has wilted, the tomatoes have shriveled, the frozen meals are reserved, it’s too hot for soup, and the almond milk must be preserved for precious morning coffee. Light from the open frigerator door makes my eyes water. The eerie after storm glow is filtering in through the blinds casting the rest of my usually cheery kitchen in a yellow-hued and dust mote filtered wash. The effort required to flip the light switch on is too great.
Too much idle time has passed. The volume of the waves are ramping up, the thundering of each heart beat like a physical manifestation.
This day, crash.
This week, crash.
These months, crash.
Suddenly conscious of the wafts of cool air, I’m snapped back.
Fuck, I’m starving.
I spy it on the counter as I turn from slamming the refrigerator door shut. A loaf of bread lies half hidden under a week’s worth of mail never opened, but dutifully brought in from the box. Where there’s bread, there’s hope. Other ingredients assembled I am crestfallen when I spy the tag. Mockingly it reads, “sell by JUN 07”. A fleeting, suspicious sniff reveals only a slightly sour smell. A quick inspection several slices deep shows no obvious signs of mold and at this I let slip a sigh of relief.
The understated peanut butter and jelly sandwich is – has been – will always be – a balm when I am soul sick and weary.
Originally posted in another place at another time… It’s relevant enough to bring around here for a repeat.
This has turned out to be quite the introspective weekend for me. Among other things written in other places, I found myself thinking about the lessons we’re taught by our parents. If they set out to teach us these lessons specifically or if they just happen by a stroke of fate and we only realize it years later.
I’ve written to you so often these last few weeks, but the missives have stayed tucked securely in my head, never making it to this blog. I’d love to say I’ve been so busy living life I just haven’t had a moment to stop and transcribe them all, but that would be a lie and that’s something I won’t do.
I’ve just been mired in the day-to-day bullshit of living. That utterly tiresome cycle we’ve all found ourselves trapped in at sometime or another: sleep, wake, eat, work, stress, eat, chores, eat… rinse and repeat. I’ve had some adventures here and there and I’ve heard some great podcasts which have inspired me though so I’ll share soon in later posts. But, for now I’ve become fixated on the question, “Is common courtesy dead?”
Amazing video my sister Yaboiksar found of a wonderful organization I had no idea existed.
Dramatic Need presents The Children’s Monologues directed by Danny Boyle
More about DramaticNeed.org
Dramatic Need is a creative arts charity helping vulnerable children in Africa to build hope and self-belief in the face of conflict, trauma and hardship.
We work in rural areas of Rwanda and South Africa to provide creative-arts education, resources, support and inspiration for children and youth.
We promote creative expression as a tool for conflict resolution, social development, gender-empowerment and for the communication of positive health messages.
We work in two ways. The first is through our children’s programming; community out-reach initiatives and teacher-training programmes based at our community arts centre in rural Free State, South Africa.
The Second is through our Volunteer Program which sends local and international arts professionals to host issue-based workshops in underprivileged and rural communities throughout South Africa and Rwanda.
I regret sleeping on that couch.” He thought to himself as she came into view.
The rapid fire clicks of the mechanical keyboard came to an abrupt halt. The cursor pulsed, patiently waiting for the next hammering barrage.
Breath he didn’t know he was holding exploded suddenly from between clenched teeth. His glasses fogged immediately in the cold air of the tiny apartment providing a temporary respite from the present view and predicament. She moved quickly with an efficiency of movement which should be at odds with the silly song she was singing in various tones, but like everything else she did, it somehow worked.
“Hey, Ground Control to Major Tom, you with me?”
This is a gallery of all the baby blankets I’ve made over the last 2-3 years. My Mom taught me the basics (along with embroidery) and I watch YouTube videos to learn new things. I always make a baby blanket for family and friends who are expecting. I hope they become keepsakes because they really are a labor of love for me.
The pink ruffles were something I’d never done before and just tried on a whim. I love how they turned out. I still have one more blanket to go this “season” and I’ll add it here when I’m done.
This is a gallery of paintings I’ve made so far. I think it’s pretty obvious my favorite color is red. I painted these at a local place named Painting with a Twist. It’s a bring your own wine place, but since I don’t drink wine I always show up with a huge cup of coffee. I love losing myself for a few hours.
Apparently writing the first real blog post here is akin to writing the first lines or chapter of a novel. That is to say much thought about, written and rewritten several times in ones head, and all deemed not good enough yet to commit to paper. But, sometimes you just have to jump in or you’ll never get started. Which is how I’ve come to find myself laying in bed composing this on my phone (my iPad had the nerve to run out of juice) listening to Ema purr contentedly by my side.
Didn’t get around to writing tonight, so enjoy an older prompt of mine originally posted on a tumblr blog my sister and I share:
I looked up from the microscope and blinked slowly.
Surely not, the only thought my mind could manage.
I dragged my hand through unkempt, tangled hair. I spent time slowly and deliberately tucking wayward curls behind my ears, buying myself time to comprehend the enormity located just two feet away. Continue reading