Sunday, March 18, 2012

A Letter About the Weather and Whether or Not

Dear Person Locked Away,

To you, I would like to write a letter every day, as I know all too well what it is like to be locked away, and held captive of only what your thoughts will allow, and of the people locked away with you, and to wait apprehensively for who might visit you during visiting hours. You were once a visitor of mine, as I was trapped inside my mind, and I only wish to repay the kind favor.

One always begins a letter writing about the weather, as the weather is an easy conversation to have. One always cares about the weather, as it affects us greatly. It gives shape to the clothes that hang in our closet that we select from each day of the year, to wear. It gives worry to moving day, should rain be in the forecast. It gives great joy to planned outdoor activities, should it be a compliment to what you have in store. It can greatly enhance an evening out under the stars, should it be a pleasant temperature, little wind, and clear skies. When people are talking about their days off; should the forecast call for inclement weather, they make statements about “It would be crappy weather on my days off,” and they celebrate; should it be fantastic weather. I tend to never care to look up the weather, and I remember many times at being surprised by it, but never the less it always is drifting in and out of my mind, as there is always some reaction as I step out into the elements. It can cause happiness and joy and a good time done better! It can create anger, as well as destruction to a day, to a life, to a home, to a city. Oh, the weather and it great effect!

The weather is warm here today, yet there is a heavy, cold dampness that clings to me as I walk through the parking garage. It could be entirely pleasant, given the warm weather, but instead, it reminds me of the winter that, although it barely came, has just given way to spring. And can we call it spring, given the quickly rising temperatures? The trees are still bare, and the grass is still smashed, brown in color, and dirty and littered.  My indoor plant has finally died, given the lack of outdoor sunshine time. Oh, what kind of summer are we in for? The radio shows wonder this out loud, as to just how hot will it get. Will we have several dozen days scattered through the summer of 100 degree plus days? I now question greatly our choice in moving into an apartment at the start of April that lacks an air conditioner. This is Minnesota after all; hot, humid summers, and I don’t own a boat, so my summers aren’t entirely spent to the maximum capacity of enjoying the moist air, and plethora of lakes. In addition, my choice of purchasing a car five years ago that has leather seats, and no tinted windows, only adds to great pains in the summertime. (This is also not helpful in the winter months). Why the hell do they sell cars with leather in such a state as this?

Well enough about the weather; shall we talk about whether?
I most often worry about the “whether or not” of all things. Currently I am stuck trying to make this decision as to whether or not I continue on with this blog, or decide to pack some more boxes, or to go to bed for the day. Earlier I had to decide whether or not I picked up breakfast from a fast place of options, or come home and eat the only food I have, oatmeal bread with peanut butter spread on top. I chose the peanut butter bread, and now wish I had stopped and gotten myself some pancakes, instead. A whether or not done wrong. I could continue on about the whether or not, but I find it to be not nearly as exciting as talking about the weather.

Does anybody who reads my blog wonder if I only do my very best to use as many words as possible in as twisted of way as possible to create the longest sentences, to create the most amount of confusion. Well I confess this is a small amount of my ulterior motive, but mostly my thoughts occur in my head just as I write them, and it makes every moment of my day an interesting contemplation.

Today, as I was passing by on Hennepin (pause) prior to the 8am hour (pause) on this fine Sunday morning in the downtown area, (pause)  I came to witness a model doing a photo shoot (pause) right there on Hennepin in the bike lane. It was a funny thing to witness (pause) as she was in a long flowing gown (pause) unique with its patterned yellow and black circles and swirls against white (pause) strutting up and down a dirty street (pause) which had yet to be tidied up from the marvelous St. Patrick’s Day celebration of yesterday. The sky was overcast (pause) and the scene of the photo shoot looked quite desolate (pause) as very little traffic roamed about at that early hour of the morning. She was giving her best walk (pause) and her sexiest daring looks to the little wind blown man that hid behind the camera. It was amusing never the less. Wow!, someone invent the comma already!

I am a prompt packer, and I have packed away the humidifier, without all it parts intact, and packed away the cd case, without paying attention to the cd’s still laying out and about. I should not tape things up so quickly. When I moved last time, I left the house with what I thought were all of my belongings, and with my great attention to cooking, didn’t realize until 2 weeks later, that I had left all my pots and pans in the drawer under the stove. And I didn’t even realize it, except for the new tenants of my old place called to ask if I was giving them my pots. I only wonder how long it would have actually taken me to realize I was without these all important kitchen necessities. Well necessities to other people. And why pots and pans? Which are the pots and which are the pans? Neither word seems to sum them up all that nicely. I think really; I know what a pot is, but is a skillet a pan? A cook such as myself ought to know. “Hand me that pan,” makes me want to giggle.

Well, I find the day to be entirely too short, the weather to be warm, cloudy, and great for sleeping. I have therefore decided that whether or not, the day would be a waste, should I not get something done, before I return to my bed for another day of dreams.

May your day be well read, without the greatest grammar, but with a fantastic amount of inquisitive thought. Until next time…

Monday, March 5, 2012

Of Wherabouts and Roundabouts

Wow. It’s been a while. Whereabouts have I been since I last wrote a blog. Well the people of which I spoke of in my last blog have departed the company of our company, and now are in the company of other companies and company. And mostly I feel this is a good thing because meeting new people always gives you good stories to tell, but mostly if only these new people come with an assortment of people who don’t have boundaries. I am a person without boundaries, and mostly I feel people say in their head, of those who hear me speak, think “Wow, did she really just share that?!?” but then they follow it up with that “in your head” smile you only smile when someone has shared something embarrassing, and then someone on a radio show will think, let’s ask the audience who has a great story to tell about someone who doesn’t have boundaries. And mostly people will call in and say they had a co-worker tell them about their hemorrhoids and how much they bleed and hurt, and there really won’t be any good stories. But come on people, turn on your TV’s. If I’m not doing it (not having boundaries), some actors are acting it out. Then again their getting paid and I’m not.
So one time I had this older guy named art who admired me. He would come into my fast place of work, and pretend to read a newspaper, all the while peeking over the top of his newspaper at me. Well, me, being a person who is of a great deal of interest, doesn’t generally notice when someone is noticing me. Co-workers would point out art admiring my details. Well I wasn’t very flattered, as this art, was kind of bland and lacked fine lines. Well one day art came up to the counter and dared to get my attention, and slid a folded up letter across the way to me. Well being full of secrets myself, I waited until the end of my shift to read this “letter.” I don’t remember too much of it, really only one thing in general; he was indicating he was in love with me, that he had a fireplace, and he would like me to be present sometime to sit in front of the fireplace with him on any given cold winter day, preferably with the snow falling gently down; (yet in a little bit of a hurry) to fill up the ground and overflow, and cause me to be snowed in with him. Picture perfect art. Well I was a young adult at this time, not quite right with the ways of the world and I once sat and talked to art after work, and he came to know of the vehicle I drove and he saw me drive by him one day (an unknown error on my part) and art followed me to my residence, and knocked on my door. Imagine my horror when a knock on the door was met with awful art being just on the other side. So I moved to another state. And now I only have art on my walls, but actually sitting on my floor, as I am too lazy to hang it up.
And just yesterday, the alignment of the planets must have been slightly off, because as I was leaving work, I came across someone backing up, a fair ways, on a one way street. But to continue, as I was driving down the highway, someone, who had to have been distracted, took a nice nosedive off of the exit ramp and was facing backwards into traffic at the bottom of the hill. And then just a little ways up, a patrol car was slowing creeping along behind a guy who was stumbling along the highway. His whereabouts seemed questionable and he was nowhere near any roundabouts of the sort that might indicate his confused state of mind. Needless to say I made it home without incident although I thought for certain all these were signs that my car and I were doomed for some terrible adventure of remodeling of some sort.
Small side note: I am a cautious optimistic, very cautious similar to the way one is cautious about lighting a candle in a place that smells like rotten eggs, and that has a gas burning stove, (on).
And I remember with great detail how I so loved the idea of the ecosystem when I was first introduced to it in Science class. The Science teacher told me that because of the ecosystem, all things; microorganisms, bugs of all sorts, rodents, lions, mountain goats, and the birds high in the sky all belonged together and completed one another. What a fantastic story! The story was complete with this wonderful illustration in the book that showed a beautiful forest picture with this roundabout circle coming out of the earth and around all the way up to the sky and back down to the ground, and decorated with pretty pictures of different creatures. The eagle at the top really did it for me. I try to tell myself this story each time I come across a spider in my place of residence. But most recently, in the last decade, I came across these horrible awful bugs called House centipedes. And much to my great dissatisfaction, when I tried to Google what this bug could possibly be, after my first encounter, (of it being in a glass in which I tried to drink water), I was most discouraged at this creatures general whereabouts, as they were calling it a HOUSE centipede. What part of the damn ecosystem does this creature have to do with? Ok so it eats bugs, but I can think of a few other more pleasant bugs which eat bugs. And now my house is part of the ecosystem?!? That wasn’t part of the illustration! To continue, I can think of about a 1,000 more creatures that the ecosystem would do just fine without.
Well to my faithful followers, (you know who you are; me not so much as no one leave comments) this is actually a blog which I find to be short on creative ideas; and…I find myself departing. I feel most certain there is still more positive to occur today. I am after all going to return once again to my bed for the 3rd time this week, given that I consider the start of the week to be Saturday, and my bed is a wonderful place to find sleep at.