Not really sure what to write about today. The thing is that this kind of writing challenge is for me to get out some things from my fingertips that have been here, deep down, for quite some time but first I have to brush off the dust.
So following are some musings that maybe shouldn’t grace the pages of the internet, but will, all the same.
I’m currently sitting on my bed in my grandparents’ house. I remember the first Christmas (in memory) that I spent here was in first grade. My family was back to the U.S. for furlough from Argentina and it was our first time experiencing snow and ice, this amount of cold, and everything that comes along with Christmas in the Midwestern United States. I also came back from Columbus, where my grandparents live, with a stuffed doll that I called Ginger–a present from my great-grandfather Bus.
I’m not sure what it is about but I think that the cold brings out the worst in people, but sometimes the best.
I put eggnog in my pancakes.
I don’t want to write about any of these things.
How about the feeling that you get when you are driving on the road and the wind is swirling the snow into such geometric patterns that you feel like you are at sea or smoking some kind of potent weed.
Flannel sheets are the best invention ever.
My parent’s neighbors have a wind chime as tall as their house. I hear it every morning and it is the first thing I know when I get up and the last thing that I hear when I drift off to sleep. The first time that I saw it a couple years back I was appalled that such a large wind chime would exist and it was ostentatiously placed on the tree that is directly within eyesight of my parent’s back windows, or half of the windows of the house, including “my” bedroom. The first time I saw it I simply laughed and proclaimed it ridiculous. This time that I made my visit to my parent’s house I have appreciated the deep and grounding sounds such an instrument makes in my bedding down and waking hours.
Talk is cheap, but I don’t know what else to do when I want to go deep, but it seems like there’s nothing really there to anchor me as I dive.
Yesterday in my yoga class a man was breathing loudly the whole time. At the beginning of class he started making some weird grunting noises and I realized that his partner’s mat was right next to his and I knew that I was going to be in for it. He felt himself at home, being that his partner was right there and there were only two other young women in the class (me and someone else) I’m sure he felt as though he could do whatever he wanted in terms of sounds—grunts, loud breathing, exasperated sighs, you name it. The whole while I was trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying and I was trying to imagine myself calm and collected no matter what was in my presence. This is what yoga teaches and sometimes I can be really hard-pressed to really take these things to heart. People eating loudly, or more than a little bit of dirtiness in the wrong spot can turn me into an OCD individual real quick. I don’t mean the DSM-IV type, but just in general, I am pretty persnickety when it comes to certain things.
I am learning important life lessons during this small rendezvous to the Midwest. My centering point. Coming back to the fulcrum to then have the pendulum swing right or left again, depending on the wind.
A conversation during New Year’s Eve had me talking about Hoosiers, you know, those people from Indiana. I told people at the bar that one thing that I missed about “living” in California is that people there were a lot more distant, less friendly, they take their time in warming up to just about anyone. I appreciate this about Hoosiers and most Midwesterners in general. It seems as though one of my stereotypes of the Midwest is that its citizens are very conscientious about making people feel at home, they are friendly, they dive right into small talk, and they don’t skip a beat. “This makes me tired,” my best friend from high school comments, “sometimes I wish I could just not say ‘hi’ and simply be on my way.”
“You got to be in it to win it,” says a wise yet very young individual about the lottery jackpot.
And that’s all I have for today, last night rather.