A Story

I started this story for my Children't Lit class. You can read it here.

Random Nostalgic Ramblings

The other night I was driving through my old neighborhood when I had a very strong, sudden urge to walk my dog Pablo in my old neighborhood. It was so urgent. I felt like we both needed to do it the next day before he dies and before my family leaves Oxford. I used to walk Pablo alone all the time to this one stop sign when I was growing up. It was my time to think and unwind, something that I've found I need more and more of as I grow older. And Pablo was my silent companion, my trusted friend who bounced happily along beside me. I would glance down at him and he'd stare back up and me and smile. For those of you who say dogs can't smile, you're severely mistaken.

So I took the walk the next day, and relived the past one step at a time.

It was odd looking at my old house and the basketball hoop I used to practice on. And looking at the divide between Emmy and Bill’s and our yard where we found Pablo in the compost pile once. Pablo seemed to remember the neighborhood. There was a youthful bounce in his step reminiscent of puppyhood. Of course he had to poop and pee everywhere, that is to be expected.

It was a much slower walk than before. Pablo is old now and his stamina is deteriorating. To me, the walk seemed much shorter. My legs are longer now. To Pablo, the walk seemed much longer, because he is older and moving is much harder for him than it was in his youth.

My old neighbor Max had a corgi named Hannah. It was a running joke in my family that Pablo was in love with her. The gate was left open to Hannah and Max’s house which I took to symbolically mean that we were always welcome even though both of them have died. Pablo still barked at a guy on a bike like he always does. Some things never change. He got two compliments on how beautiful he is from two people I passed. He could use the self-esteem boost since he's gained a lot of weight in his old age.

When we reached the stop sign that had so often been our turnaround spot I felt odd. I couldn't place the feeling and I still can't. I'd like to say I felt closure, but I didn't. I didn't really feel anything that I could describe accurately with words. I thought to myself that maybe I needed to touch the stop sign, to feel the tangible metal on the tip of my finger. So, even though there was a car there and I looked weird I caressed the stop sign pole. It felt rusty and cold. Still nothing. Then I looked down at Pablo. He was peeing on the stop sign. Then I realized, this was our territory. His urine marked it as surely as urine could. I didn't have to feel like I was leaving my childhood behind, or any sense of closure because our lives were still continuing on and our past was just as alive as our present and our future. 

When I was in the fourth grade I was riding the bus home and passing by a railroad and I told myself, "I'm going to remember this moment for the rest of my life." And I have. It's like I just wanted to remember how peaceful I was at that moment and how even when I'm old I will still have that moment I remember where nothing particularly special was happening. I think we all need something to hold on to from the past that wasn't a big, important moment. Like sure, I remember winning a Volleyball tournament, or singing a solo, or my first kiss. But I wanted something that didn't have all of that importance behind it, because really most days are just normal, just ordinary. But maybe that is what is more important, not the big events, but the small, meaningless moments that sometimes just pass away unnoticed. So there I was, just sitting alone on the bus. Other kids were talking to each other loudly and all of the sudden I just felt like I was so much older than all of them. I looked out the window at this bank and then I just became extremely determined to remember. I was having an odd moment in my nine year old self where I saw myself as an old woman. I didn't want to forget my childhood so I tucked away that small moment in my mind so I wouldn't lose that part of myself.

Bookshelf Porn

If you love libraries, reading, and/or books as much as I do then check this out.

An Interesting Question

This question came up with some of my friends: what is more important in a song the lyrics or the melody? It was fascinating to hear the different answers. I ask the question because I can't really decide myself. For me, listening to a song the first time is like meeting a new person. The melody is like that first impression. It gives you a certain feeling through its sound and rhythm. Then you get to know the song better, learning the lyrics and figuring out what they mean to you and how they connect with your life, hence making the song your "friend" in a sense. Being a singer and a lover of words I'm naturally more drawn to the lyrics. But then again, the melody is what catches me. I wouldn't want to get to know the song without a good melody. So I guess it is the difference between me loving a song and just liking a song is the lyrics. If I love the lyrics then I can fully love the song. I hope you ponder this question for yourself. It really is interesting to think about.

Not many people I know really enjoy Los Campesinos, but I do. It took me a while to get used to the lead singer's voice, but they have some of my favorite lyrics of any band. 

Here are the lyrics to "We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed" (favorite lines in bold):
You can listen to the song here

By the light of the LED display of a VCR recorder
You kiss my neck, I whisper in your ear, "this is my downfall"
As you squint and you grimace, we both know your heart's not in it

By the glow of a thousand fireflies in a travelodge en-suite:
They think the future's bright as halogen, we know it's pretty bleak
And I'm trying to be sexy, biting at the air that falls in front of me.

Your telegrams are more and more less detailed by the day
And all the characters are strangers and the pubs have different names
I tell a joke that I'd like to meet them but they loathe me and I hate them back

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Fondness makes the absence longer
Length loses my interest, I'm a realist, I'm insatiable
Swapped counting days until I fly, with hours before your reply

(Chorus)
You said he got his teeth fixed
I'm gonna break them
I've got a heart on fire
He said he's got his sights set
On getting to you
I've got a fist on fire

You feel terrified at the thought of being left behind
Of losing everybody, the necessity of dying
Oh, WE KID OURSELVES THERE'S FUTURE IN THE FUCKING,
BUT THERE IS NO FUCKING FUTURE
I'm just practising my accents, picking at old sutures

I taught myself the only way to vaguely get along in love
Is to like the other slightly less than you get in return
I keep feeling like I'm being undercut

Charlotte says, "It's more constructive than the one in Canada,
When you got drunk, 
Ate loads of crisps
And threw up by a football pitch"
I know it is, 
And really that's what worries me,
I feel like I should 
Hurt.

(Chorus)
I cannot emphasise enough that my body 
Is a badly designed, poorly put together vessel,
Harbouring these diminishing, so-called 'vital organs'
Hope my heart goes first, 
I HOPE MY HEART GOES FIRST!

And
We are beautiful, 
We are doomed.

How too Get Peple two Read Yur Blogg

Weightless

This is another, more personal essay about something most people don't know about me. Click here to read it.

Gizoogle

Hahaha gizoogle.net provides endless entertainment. Kyle, I love you for showing me this.