but tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun
It just dawned on me that I really enjoy finding a personal touch in something that otherwise means nothing to me.
like for instance, I was walking home tonight, just like I do every week. and I passed a house, same one I've walked by hundreds of times. only this time I looked up at an lighted upstairs window, and saw that it was obviously a bathroom because the shower curtain pattern was visible and the windows were all steamed up. and there were stars, shaped like asterisks, traced in each pane. someone had succumbed to the irresistible urge to draw on fogged glass. and all of a sudden that house that I'd passed week after week became more familiar. I knew something about someone in it.
another example is when I was walking around this old cemetery, the kind where all the graves are marked with slate headstones. and I found one where whoever put the letters on hadn't left enough room, so the last few letters were squeezed in above the rest. that little mark of humanity made the whole experience so much more accessible and it was much easier to imagine the whole process, and a human reaction to having screwed it up, even though the whole thing happened couple hundred years ago.
I think I'm in super-sensory mode because I just had dance class, and there I always have to use senses and tools that are sometimes asleep during the week. like paying really close attention. and reading other people really carefully. and thinking about things in a totally different way.
I love that class.
and now, I'm not going anywhere near the baseball game, because chances are the sox are going to get squashed yet again and I don't seem to have the sox confidence that most other bostonians do. and besides, I get all the important information about it from hearing jonah's reactions from downstairs, where he's watching. so instead, I will write the cover letter for my paper, and then go do something fun. I haven't decided what yet.
like for instance, I was walking home tonight, just like I do every week. and I passed a house, same one I've walked by hundreds of times. only this time I looked up at an lighted upstairs window, and saw that it was obviously a bathroom because the shower curtain pattern was visible and the windows were all steamed up. and there were stars, shaped like asterisks, traced in each pane. someone had succumbed to the irresistible urge to draw on fogged glass. and all of a sudden that house that I'd passed week after week became more familiar. I knew something about someone in it.
another example is when I was walking around this old cemetery, the kind where all the graves are marked with slate headstones. and I found one where whoever put the letters on hadn't left enough room, so the last few letters were squeezed in above the rest. that little mark of humanity made the whole experience so much more accessible and it was much easier to imagine the whole process, and a human reaction to having screwed it up, even though the whole thing happened couple hundred years ago.
I think I'm in super-sensory mode because I just had dance class, and there I always have to use senses and tools that are sometimes asleep during the week. like paying really close attention. and reading other people really carefully. and thinking about things in a totally different way.
I love that class.
and now, I'm not going anywhere near the baseball game, because chances are the sox are going to get squashed yet again and I don't seem to have the sox confidence that most other bostonians do. and besides, I get all the important information about it from hearing jonah's reactions from downstairs, where he's watching. so instead, I will write the cover letter for my paper, and then go do something fun. I haven't decided what yet.