12 Random Questions

1. If You Had The World’s Attention For 30 Seconds, What Would You Say?
REMEMBER TO FLOSS YOUR TEETH EVERYDAY! AND STAY HYDRATED!

2. If You Had To Work But Didn’t Need The Money, What Would You Choose To Do?
Any type of writing. Or cuddling kittens. That counts, right?

3. What Is In Your Fridge Right Now?
Leftover pizza, yogurt, milk, coffee creamer, some fruit, some veggies. Pretty boring, typical stuff.

4. If You Were Home On A Rainy Sunday Afternoon, What Movie Would You Most Want To See On Television?
Jumanji! The 1995 version.

5. Where Do You Not Mind Waiting?
I don’t mind waiting anywhere, really. I usually bring a book along so the time doesn’t drag.

6. If You Could Close One Fast Food Chain, Due To Disgusting Food, What Would You Pick?
…Taco Bell. *braces for torches and pitchforks*

8. If You Could Be A Member Of Any TV-Sitcom Family, Which Would It Be?
Oddly enough, the Crane family from Frasier. I think I’m neurotic enough to fit in with Niles and Frasier, but chill enough to be like, a more laid-back, distant cousin of theirs at the same time.

9. What Would Be The Best Thing About Not Having A Sense Of Smell?
I have a fairly sensitive nose, so I would like being able to walk into a soap store or candle store without feeling nauseous.

10. Would You Leave Your Hometown Forever Or Stay In Your Hometown Forever?
I’d leave it forever, only because many of my friends have moved away, and my parents plan to leave within the next couple of years. Also, it’s a bit of a “backwards” area.

11. When Scrolling Through Social Media, Do You Prefer Posts From Celebrities Or From Your Best Friends?
Friends, but I enjoy commentary from my favorite celebs. It depends on the medium, though.

12. Is There An App That You Hate But Use Anyways?
I get really addicted to random games, but only ever have one on my phone at a time. I got sucked into a game called Wordscapes and got through 900+ levels in a week. I’m onto a new one now, so although I hate them… I still use them.

Questions borrowed from HERE.

The Hawk

Today, I was cruising along on my way to get my post-work Starbies (a venti iced cocoa cloud macchiato, if you wondered) when a flutter of feathers caught my eye. I directed my gaze just in time to watch a majestic hawk swoop down from atop a telephone pole and snatch a poor, furry creature – either a chipmunk or a squirrel, not sure which – up off the ground, and then fly away to enjoy the spoils.

So, basically… I witnessed a murder.

But, after I processed the trauma of seeing my second brutal rodent death (the first was a squirrel vs. van incident), I got to thinking. I felt bad for the rodent, of course – it didn’t deserve a grisly death, even though that’s the way of the world. It was just trying to scurry through some tall grass and find some seeds or nuts for lunch. But I think I also felt a kinship with it.

In certain elements of my life, I am more rodent than hawk. More discreet, meek, and aiming to squeak by unnoticed. The kind of creature that gets swooped on, scooped up, and made a meal of. Who fearfully watches the skies for any sign of talons, and hides from the shadow of wings overhead.

But, as I grow and learn, I am trying to be more like the hawk. I don’t want to be someone who snatches up and preys on the innocents, however. No… but someone who is keen-eyed, goal-oriented, and sharp. Who sees what they want and goes for it, even if it takes great patience to accomplish. Who strives for results and is not afraid to reach for them, even in the face of potential failure. To be feared, instead of fearful.

There is value in the way of the rodent – learning to be quiet, and to listen. To be watchful and mindful of others. But similarly, there is value in the way of the hawk – learning to be patient, but driven. To be strong-willed and willing to strike to achieve results. So maybe, the best way is to be a bit of both. Not quite feared, but not too fearful.

Or, you know…. just be a bear and hibernate for months at a time, or something.

 

 

This Child

So, I know I do this a lot, but I just stumbled upon an old poetry assignment from high school… based upon the first Walt Whitman poem I ever read. I thought it was lost, but it was on an old flash-drive I recently dug up. Considering the huge effect that Walt Whitman’s poems have had on me since then, it feels like a gift to have rediscovered it.

My classmates and I were told to write our own poems based on Walt Whitman’s poem, “There was a child went forth everyday,” but to shape it around our own lives, and it had to end with Whitman’s own words, which I will italicize. I was 15/16 when I wrote it… might take a crack and writing a new one sometime, to reflect new experiences.

For Olde Poetry Monday, enjoy!

This Child

Doctors and white walls were a part of this child,
Needles in arms and IV’s in foreheads,
A bit of blood turned into life-saving power,
For one tiny, incubated figure,
Too frail to even utter a cry,
And as the years went on, the scar grew smaller,
Serving only to gently remind
Of painful days and cold linoleum.

Summerville was a part of this child,
The town where the sun never died,
Shoes weren’t needed, and southern drawls summoned,
From across the street,
This child’s head was filled,
With impossible dreams of otters,
And pretending that the backyard was some far-off land,
Though the boat she made out of cardboard
Never floated anywhere,
She was happy.

Books and rain-streaked windows were a part of this child,
This child, who sat in her closet for hours,
Wishing that she could find Narnia.
She thought that simply howling at the moon would make her a wolf,
And even though it was only a game,
She really thought was the World’s Greatest Pokemon Trainer.
And that she and her blonde-haired best friend,
Really could fly when they sat on the swingset,
And flung their shoes out over the mulch to see whose went the furthest.

Soccer fields were a part of this child,
A checkered ball hammered into the left corner,
And cleats smudged by mud and dew-kissed grass,
The freedom to run from white line to white line,
Avoiding elbows and knees, ignoring harsh words,
Enduring practice in sweltering heat,
Striving to become worthy of that pale green jersey,
And the number ‘3,’ emblazoned in white,
In the end, the cleats proved too big.
And she traded the jersey in for a pen and paper.

Terrified screams were a part of this child,
Being chased by the Licorice at Hershey Park,
Pursuing a hug that she did not want to relinquish,
To some creep in red and white, with a never-fading smile.
But screams turned into peals of laughter,
During remembered hours of hide-and-seek,
Out on the lake, fishing with Dad in the grey of the morning,
Setting the bass free that was meant to be breakfast.
And at sleepovers, when staying up until 11:00 was an incredible feat,
And we waited for the first girl to fall victim to sleep,
So her face could be decorated,
With the vibrant colors of a marker box.

Awkward silences were a part of this child,
A struggle to fit in, once moving vans carried a cherished friend away,
And the halls grew longer, the crowds heavier,
But friends were made at last, and kept,
The ‘See you soon’s’ written in the yearbooks became sincere,
And the taunts became distant echoes,
No longer heard in her ears.
Instead, laughter rang out in summer nights,
As fireworks crackled in the driveway,
Car rides down Friendship Avenue became adventures,
And text messages almost always exceeded 160 words.

Accidents were a part of this child,
Taking a horseshoe to the head,
Running headlong into a telephone pole,
That day, the race wasn’t much,
The competition poor,
But she ran her hardest, regardless of a sure-thing,
The steps were miscalculated,
But the baton left her palm,
Her feet left the red rubber,
The race won, but something else lost,
The only standing ovation she ever received,
Rang in her ears, even in the Emergency Room.

Boston was a part of this child,
Golden ducks at Boston Commons,
And free chocolate bars from the cute guy at Starbucks,
A house shared between 12 teens and 3 adults,
Attempting to share 3 bathrooms.
Something was found on the grey-paved streets,
Floating on the cold, salty Atlantic,
And in the embers of a towering campfire,
Perhaps it wasn’t what she intended to find there,
But it was real,
And those sharing the memories may be scattered,
But she can look at a simple cone of ice cream,
And remember,
That seven day journey to understanding.

Comic books were a part of this child,
All of her dreams packed into one word balloon,
Accentuated with sound effects in all the right places,
Inspired by vigilantes and men in masks.
Microsoft Word files exceeding 540 pages,
And a burning desire to see her name in print.
Will drive this child to pursue a new life,
If only this child can stave off procrastination,
To reach her distant dreams.

These became a part of that child who went forth every day,
And who now goes,
And will always go forth every day.

Just a Moment…

This week, landscapers came to do some yard work at our house. So, being the occasionally nice human being that I am, I figured I would park my car in the street so they could pull into the driveway, which would hopefully make it easier for them to get their work done.

The issue is, I forgot to do this the night before. So when I blearily awoke, around 7:40 AM, I remembered the plan and dragged myself out of bed to go and move my car. It would only take a moment, I thought. So, frizzy-haired, in my PJs, and with my feet shoved in my mom’s too-big clogs, I clambered into my Nissan and maneuvered down the driveway, then pulled into the street…

…only to realize it was also trash day. So the trash and recycling bins were set up on the curb. I would have to park a little further down to give the trash truck room, but that would mean parking adjacent to a neighbor’s car, and thus, making it even more difficult for the truck to get by. Plus, I was dangerously close to my other neighbor’s property line. Since she is a horrid person, I didn’t want to give any reason to set her off.

So, I figured, I’ll just swing around the block and park along the street on the other side of my driveway. Yet again, I thought, it would only take a moment…

… except I saw the familiar brown of a UPS truck lumbering down the street in my rearview as I swung around the corner. I looped the block, then, as I made my way down my street, I saw the UPS truck parked in front of our house. Right where I needed to park. And because one of my neighbors parks his big honkin’ red truck right on the rim of our property, I had to wait in the middle of the road for the UPS truck to move.

And I waited… for five minutes. Which, needless to say, is more than a moment. I would have gotten out and asked him to move outright, but because I looked like a troll, I didn’t feel like making my presence known. Eventually, he moved and went about his business, and I was able to park my car well out of the way of all passing trucks, both mail and trash, and leaving the driveway clear for the landscapers.

The whole process took about seven minutes. Which is hardly just a moment… so maybe, I would be better off expecting the unexpected from now on.

And the best part?

…The landscapers didn’t even park in the driveway.

Fly

Another addition for Olde Poetry Monday, this one circa 2009. Please enjoy.

 

I don’t get why people tell me, “never change.”

If I stayed the same, my biggest dream
would still be to sprout wings and fly away.

It’s cute when you’re five,
but I don’t think they have a major for that in college.

Experience is the heart of change,
and change is the center of growth.
So why do people remain locked up in their homes,
afraid to see what else is out there,
and see who they could become,
if they spread their wings?

I don’t get why people say, “you’ve changed,”
like they’re disgusted by it.
I find out all too often,
that those very people,
appalled by the thought of change,
are the ones who close their eyes,
cross their arms,
and never see beyond the ends of their noses.

Just because I changed,
does not mean I will forget.
Sometimes, I look up at the sky,
reach one hand toward it,
and remember exactly how it was,
when my biggest dream was to fly.

 

 

Sentimental

Sentimentality – it’s both a blessing, and a curse, when you attach memories to objects. It becomes so difficult to let them go. Or, in some cases, far too easy.

I had something mentally and emotionally taxing happen to me in the January of my last year of college. When it happened, I was wearing (tastefully) ripped jeans and a red-and-grey striped hooded tunic sweater. In the aftermath, I got rid of them both – even though both were relatively new and would have lasted a long while. The sweater was actually a big favorite of mine and I loved wearing it. However, I could no longer wear them because whenever I looked at them afterward, they reminded me of that event, and how bad my last semester of college was because of it. So, they went into the donation pile.

After my grandmother passed away, I had trouble letting go of gifts she gave to me over the years, even if clothes no longer fit, or items were no longer of use. It would make me feel guilty to even consider it. My grandmother was one of the best people in my life and had a profound influence on me. Of course, I know that the true treasure is my memories of her – of the good times we shared, and the things she gave me that were intangible. I have held onto a few key items; a stuffed corgi, and a music box that I had once given her as a gift. But I have gradually let some of the other things go, and even though I have a sentimental attachment to all of those things, I know I am not betraying her by doing so.

Books are a big one for me. Since getting an e-reader several years ago, I have thinned out my physical book collection. Sometimes, however, it is difficult to let a title go. I’ll remember reading it for the first time and hesitate to put it in the donation pile, but little by little, I have done so. It helps to realize that by letting them go, I am sharing those beloved titles with new readers, and that first-time reading experience with others. Sure, my shelves get a little emptier, but it does make my heart lighter in the end.

I form attachments to things that others might consider trivial. Movie ticket stubs and movie posters. Toys, collectible and otherwise. Snowglobes. Old video games that no longer play. Gradually, I will let these things go too, but I don’t think there’s any harm in holding on a bit longer than others.

Ultimately, I think the positives of sentimentality outweigh the negatives by a significant margin, but it is vital to remember that items do not always equate in importance to memories. Memories remain in your heart, good and bad. Certain items may bolster that, and getting rid of them doesn’t destroy those memories.

Unusual Skills

You can know someone for decades, and still be surprised when they throw out seemingly random facts about themselves. Obscure little tidbits that don’t quite make it into “About Me” sections and convos because there is little opportunity to slide them in organically without sounding like you’re bragging. Well, I’m definitely not rife with such skills, but an example would be…

I have a history of turning bowling pins into art pieces for a competitive charity event. I have made a Jawa from Star Wars, and Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy. Here are a couple of pics. I also made a parrot once, but I can’t find any pictures of it.

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I’m proud of these, but I also don’t have much opportunity to mention it – though I can’t say I ever really look for a time to slip it into casual conversation. Sometimes, I even forget about it myself until I stumble across an old picture.

I also used to be on the global leaderboard for a facebook game called Night Balloons. I was obsessed with it for ages – now, I probably couldn’t play to save my life.

So, does anyone else have an unusual skill they’d like to brag about? Because I’d love to hear it!

Also, there will be a bonus post tomorrow!

In Disguise

I recently left my old gym in favor of a new one, and have been making an effort to eat better. I’m in decent shape, but would like to lose a couple of pounds and improve my strength. All about that self improvement, folks.

And then, as I was hitting my stride, I got struck with a stomach virus that rendered me almost completely immobile, during a week where we had surprise extra shipments at work while also being severely short-handed. People kept a wide berth around me in the office and I had to wear a heating pad around my neck while on the floor.

Needless to say… it was a bad time. But I did lose a couple of pounds.

I also wasn’t able to drink coffee for a couple of days, because the very scent of coffee made my stomach churn. After I started feeling better, I kept the trend going. I haven’t had coffee since Tuesday, which is a new record for me. And I actually feel… good?

So maybe, sometimes, bad situations can be a blessing in disguise.

UPDATE: Not an hour after I finished drafting this post, the stomach bug returned with a sudden and violent vehemence and brought a horrible migraine with it.

So… I take it back. No blessings here, in disguise or otherwise.

And I am totally drinking coffee tomorrow.

(My Game of Thrones Season 8 post will either be this Friday or next Monday, depending on how fast I can finish it. I have a lot to say, but want to give the dust time to settle and my mind time to chill a bit.)

Recharge

The past couple of weeks have been an odd combination of relaxing and wild – hence the total lack of blog posts last week. But it has also been a much-needed breather.

At the end of last month, my best friend and I drove down to Williamsburg, Virginia to visit another friend who moved there last autumn. And it was a wonderful time to reconnect and recharge, hopefully for all of us.

Over three days, we explored the area and found a delicious cupcake shop (I got the carrot flavor) and an incredible used bookstore called Mermaid Books, where I scored a 50th anniversary edition of my favorite Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath. I could have stayed there browsing the titles for hours. We also stumbled across a World Market, so I stocked up on my favorite foreign cider, Rekorderlig. I haven’t had it since I went to England five years ago, but it’s one of the few alcoholic drinks I actually enjoy, so I was happy to find them.

But the best part, of course, was getting to spend time with friends. We played boardgames, card games, and I dominated at Mario Party… for once. We had many rounds of Mario Kart, also… I stick to Dry Bones with the Comet bike and slick wheels, and it works for me. It was good to get away from work and just enjoy spending time in a new place with people I care about. And the friend we were visiting has an adorable dog, who enjoyed jumping on me every morning, which, as someone who loves with an aloof cat, was nice. I’m so glad I got to make the trip, relax, and experience a new place, and I’m grateful my friend asked us to come down and visit her. I also drove the two of us there and back – the longest road trip I’ve ever taken my car on, and as someone who fears the highway, it was a great experience.

Of course, then we had Avengers: Endgame and The Long Night, which were events in their own right, and equally as emotionally draining to watch. And I got to go to a free screening of Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut Booksmart, which was especially cool. Then my best friend took me to a BLACKPINK concert in Newark on the 2nd. Now, I’ve said it before… I am what is called a “novice” when it comes to K-pop. I’ve always been more of a J-pop and Mandopop girl, but I was more into K-pop during the early days of SHINee, the Wonder Girls, and Super Junior, and I’ve followed almost the entirety of BoA’s career. Other than what my friend has played in her car, I don’t really seek it out. I do like it a lot – I just find the fandom to be a bit overwhelming. I also accompanied my best friend to a B.A.P. concert in D.C. back in 2017, and it was a blast, but I am definitely “well meaning mom at an anime convention” at such events.

20190502_202534_hdr134745674902261769.jpgI didn’t know anything about BLACKPINK going into the concert – like, I didn’t even know their names – but I have come out a fan! I can see why so many folks are drawn to their music and style. Their songs are major bops. My favorites have to be “As if it’s your last” and “Boombayah” but I was dancing along to all of them! These four girls are definitely a force, and I’ve had their tracks on repeat in my car all weekend. I can’t wait for them to put out more songs!

I think these last couple of weeks have been the whirlwind recharge I needed. I look forward to throwing myself back into writing and blogging!

Birthdays

Birthdays… everyone’s got one, but how a person feels about their birthday can vary.

My birthday was yesterday. As someone who is not 100% comfortable with the idea of getting older – who accepts it as an inevitability, but doesn’t look forward to it – turning 27 isn’t much cause for celebration.

On Saturday, I went out to breakfast, took in a matinee of Shazam! with my family, then went to work for a closing shift. On my actual birthday, I had to work 10-6:30, so I picked up my free latte from Starbucks on my way in, then spent the entirety of my day at my job. Came home and ate a delicious dinner with my parents, opened a couple of gifts, then spent the remainder of the night watching high-speed police chase videos on Youtube, as one does.

Not your standard birthday, but totally fine for me. I mean, 27 isn’t a milestone, so obviously there wasn’t going to be some big blowout party, which I wouldn’t have wanted anyway. For my sweet 16, my sister took me to pet cows. For my 21st, I went to Applebees with some college friends and had a margarita. And in each case, I had a great time.

Point is, I’m not a birthday person – but that’s just when it comes to my own. If my friends and loved ones choose to celebrate their birthdays in a bigger fashion, I will happily participate. I love buying birthday gifts for people and celebrating their presence in my life.

Still, the way some people revere birthdays is a mystery to me – not that I have anything against the way people choose to celebrate. You do you, folks. But in some cases, I just don’t understand it.

I’ve heard coworkers complain about being scheduled to work on their birthday, especially since my line of work has a lot of “blackout” periods where you aren’t permitted to ask for time off. But if your birthday is smack in the middle of the week, like… what do you expect?

I also recently saw someone post on facebook about celebrating the last night of their birthday week. Why would you need an entire week?

I also fail to understand how people want to be treated like royalty just because it’s their birthday. Does anyone actually enjoy being sung to in restaurants by the wait staff, with everyone else in the room staring at you? Like, I only played the “it’s my birthday” card to get out of having to wash the dishes after dinner last night.

Thus, I am curious to know how others feel about birthdays. Are you a “go out to a nice dinner and catch a movie” type of person, or a “wild party, and celebrate all week” kind of person?