Friday, May 22, 2009

Hot potato

Friends are good.

It's a rough time, this one. Regardless of who you are and what your life may look like, there's no denying that we've hit a rough spot. The country is in shambles and even the most apathetic citizen is unable to ignore the impact this recession is having on the lot of us. It would take someone born with a silver spoon not to feel the weight of it all, not to be at least a little bit hit by it.

It sits there like the canvas on which to live our lives. Each of us already with our own challenges. Our illnesses, our education, our work environment, our family life are all tinged with the same lining. Every obstacle is just that little bit more magnified.

The luxury of a cup of designer java is all the more appreciated under such circumstances. Phone trees are kicked into gear. And you get the call. Friends in need. A moment to regroup, to find comfort, support, a forum to vent. In a matter of minutes, like worker bees, we find a common meeting place, set a time, and spread the word. And then we look forward for that moment. We sing in the car. We roll down the window and find a new sweetness in the way the sun hits our arm. We are going to be with friends.

Whoever arrives first has the task of setting up shop. Find a table stake out the chairs, field calls from anyone who's gotten lost. And slowly, the haggard, worn, and anxious faces appear. There's no need for small talk. We jump right into our truths. Our pains, our hurts, our frustrations. We take turns spilling it all, and we take turns being the voices of reason, of advice, but mostly of support. If we have no wisdom, we say so. But we have heart and we give that freely. Hot potato... your turn. Hot potato... my turn.

The sun whispers in orange tones and we begin to re-dress in our combat gear. We have been re-energized. We have been vindicated. We are omnipotent. We can do this. Our friends said so.

So we go and rejoin our individual lives again. Better equiped. Wounds bandaged. We can do this. Our friends said so.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Score!

The local library is a favorite haunting ground for me. Suffice it to say it is laden with books. Books. My very own vice.

On top of it all, it is embraced like a nest in the middle of a great big park with trails and ponds and trees and fountains. There are ducks. There are squirrels. There are even red-eared slider turtles in the big fountain. It is a happy place.

I often set up shop in the lower level of the library. From there I can see the large fountain and watch the ducks swim around, dodging the turtles as they come up for air. A couple of weeks ago, I even saw a momma duck lead her baby duckies out on a stroll.

This library has an interesting corner. Over there by the bathrooms, where there is not much foot traffic, behind the staircase, is a bookshelf. On that bookshelf are books. These books have been stamped "Free." On occassion I peruse and find some interesting book or other that I may never have otherwise come across. I take some home with me.

Today, though... Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses. Right there in hardback. Just sitting there waiting for me. I've been wanting to read this for years.

Written a few weeks ago

I love to watch people do what the do best. There's a magic to the actual event as opposed to the product.

I'm sitting in the atrium of a shopping center, watching a group of musicians set up for a performance. I like watching the process. I like the familiarity with which they handle the tools of their trade. Objects that are unidentifiable to me bear the patina of use and age.

When I was studying architecture, I learned to use so many odd tools that were designed to aid in traditional drafting. Something that looked like a large razor blade was actually an eraser shield, and so on. Something had made this odd little piece of equipment necessary. Someone designed this singular contraption for a very specific use. I almost envy these little jewels. It's like their one limited use is validated by that same noble cause. They serve no other purpose, are not required to, and still are appreciated for the success with which they perform it.

We should all be so content to excel at one definitive thing. Whether it be cooking, auto mechanics, climbing, or tying our shoes, we should be able to carry one burden, one task, one talent to a level of perfection and be excused from all other trivialities. Just imagine the possibilities.

Houston, Please advise...

I'm gonna just throw this out there and hope the cyber faries bring me a good samaritan.

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Monday, May 18, 2009

Genesis 2.0

Don't scroll down. DON'T! Ugh, you're scrolling down.

What we're going to do is make like this is where you start reading. Mm-hm. Nothing to look at down there, so y'all come on back up here, now. As it turns out, anything before this post was a sort of a dress rehersal. Yeah, that's what we'll call it. A dry run for the uninitiated.

I've gotten my second wind and having regrouped, I shall begin again. There has been much washing of the hands. I have studied my lines with fervor. I even had oatmeal for breakfast. And I shaved my legs.

I am ready.

Now what?