Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Here It Is

I have too many posts already... but they are old.... this one is new.  Here you will find mostly a stream-of-consciousness.  Hopefully you will like most of my thoughts; some you won't.

Hello familiar friends and strange friends.  Would it sound too new-agey if I said there are no strangers?

I am bored, with a lot on my mind.  I can't promise an orderly arrangement on this blog, just thoughts being thrown out into the Internet Wild, hoping they will be caught by a reader or two.  Or maybe I just need to say things for the sake of saying them.

On with the show.

One thing I've noticed we learn as adults is that we're not important as we once thought we were in youth.  It's because the world grows as we age.  At 35 years old I miss the beaming smiles of teachers as they put gold stars on my homework.  Yep, teachers gave wonderful pats-on-the-back.  Something I have learned is that there aren't many out there giving me the metaphorical "gold star" anymore.  Well, some do, but the numbers have dwindled.  This is something I miss.  I enjoyed being made to feel special.  Life teaches some hard lessons.

I don't like not being rich.  I want to come across a large amount of money so I can pay my bills and buy things like the camera I've been drooling over.  I hate being poor and wish a millionaire would tell me that today is my lucky day, that I can move out of the government subsidized apartment complex where the cops are frequently seen because who-knows-what goes on here.  The odds of winning the lottery are nearly microscopic, so I'm not even going to play.

I used to have a job with a good income until I got sick.  I went from being middle-class to lower-class.  Sisyphus' rock tumbled down but it doesn't seem to be going back up.  Yet, the Damoclean sword probably hangs over all our heads, for even I am certainly more fortunate than many in this world.

Even though I got sick, my life has more meaning than it did in the past.  I finally got over a bump that was holding me back in life.  Now I am freer than I was, and hopefully someday I'll be freer than I am now.  Life is a growth process.  Some days it seems like my seed is dormant, and others I grow like a weed.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

In the Blink of an Eye

So many things disappear without notice.  Not just the small things, but things as big as spring.  One day I look out my window and the sky is grey; the trees are bare.  Spring could nearly come and go without my notice.  About a week ago I looked out the window and noticed there were small tufts of leaves growing on the trees.  When did that happen?  One day it's grey, some days after it's not.  What happened to the days in between?

After 34 years spring must be something I take for granted.  Been there, done that.  I should make it a point to notice the details of spring's entrance.  I may have lived 34 years but it doesn't mean I'll live 34 more, or even 1 year.

It's like.... just noticing that I can only taste the food in my mouth when I'm exhaling.  Something silly, perhaps, but of large importance to me to learn something about my body that I didn't know all the years of my life, something to do with eating which is one of my favorite things to do!

So, I smile and welcome the daffodil that grows in full bloom beneath my second story window.

Hello daffodil.

Hello spring.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Feline's View from a Window

My cat fascinates me.

I opened a window for her today.  She gets excited when I call her name to come to the window; she will come barreling through the apartment to jump into it.

What fascinated me today were all the small details I noticed about her when I spent about 10 minutes just staring at her and watching her behavior.  She sniffs at the fresh air and I wonder what she smells.  Something tells me she is taking in the scents of all the homeless cats that live outside, but maybe she is noticing everything, the scents of the grass, blossoming trees, people walking around outside, the children.  Her whiskers flutter around.  She is staring toward the sky; her head whips from left to right as a bird flies by.  Her ears twitch at sounds and apparently even at sounds that I cannot detect.  She stares at the ice-cream truck as it passes.  The sun on her fur makes me want to plant my face down into it to feel its warmth, to smell the sweet aroma.  It is comforting to do that.  ...And then there is the reflection of the sun in her clear eyes.  She is my golden-eyed girl.

She loves her window.

I love her.

Friday, April 5, 2013

Out of Winter's Grave Still Covered in Dirt

It is April 5th, 2013 and although spring has been here for a short while today seems to be the first real day of spring. I have been too depressed for so many years that I have forgotten how to get excited over the beginning of spring. Even now I am relying on a caffeine pill to give me enough feel-good energy to smile at the sun.

There are people outside; they are listening to their music and the children are playing. For the most part I liked winter when the children were still inside. It was much quieter and people did not feel the need to drive by with music blaring out their car windows. I guess it's safe to say that spring should excite me but does not because it does not fit my mood. Winter is more like me. I guess in a way spring depresses me because I don't feel like bathing in the sun or laughing with friends. I prefer to be alone and how can spring and summer accommodate someone who stays indoors? My loneliness is self-imposed - I turn down most social invitations - yet seeing people frolic together seems to amplify it.  Winter is mine; I am indoors with everyone else. Nothing is expected of me.

After more than ten years the doctors have found a good medication cocktail for me and I seem to feel a twinge of hope that spring and summer will bring great things. Just feeling hope is a great improvement for me.  I just have to ease my way into it.  Today it's 64 degrees and one of my windows is open with my cat sitting in it. This is the first step to saying "hello" to spring.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Just a Trilobyte

My father briefly dated an archaeologist when I was a kid.  She gave me a near-perfect - if not perfect - trilobyte fossil.  I don't think I was responsible enough to have that specimen because it ended up lost.  Now I am 34 and I'm responsible enough for a trilobyte.

Trilobytes, here I come!