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…