Seasonal Impressions

I have a blog coming up for all of you very soon, but I was searching through old gmail attachments, and I found some things worth sharing.

My mood, generally, is very dependent on weather. Sometimes, all I need to restore me is a cool breeze across closed lids. These are two instances, on that took place in a Chicago fall, and one that took place in a Chicago spring, as I was on the eve of heading back to my home state, Michigan.

~*~

FALL.

The Belmont el stop.

The best place to see the sky in Chicago is at the Belmont el stop. A couple of days ago, the transient weather of fall meant that from the open air station, I could see several days of weather in one sky.

To the west, the sky was clear, an enameled cerulean blue.To the northeast, wedding white mares tails, little ice crystal clouds moved in sync to the southwest like lacy old ladies arm in arm, clipping down the street in their sturdy black shoes. To the southeast, however, trouble broiled. Cobalt cloud mountains faded into black marshy mists, and the illuminated buildings against that dark sky looked cut out of the scene. The trains coming from the south were coming wet, and those monsters were rolling towards me, grumbling and snorting in their anger.

The wall of rain over took a few of the orange afternoon-lit buildings and they were suddenly studded with diamond raindrops. With the sun at my back, I saw the rain advancing toward me. A rainbow jumped out in front of me and tried to hold back the torrent, but the storm threw a bolt of lightning and shattered it as it’s partners reached the sun disk in the southwest and shrouded it.

I stepped into the capsule of the train as the rain came beating down. Hissing and roaring, the storm lamented my escape. The train started up and we sped off towards the west. With a few raindrops on my shoulders and the leafy smelling wind still in my hair, I turned to gaze wide-eyed out of the train.

Ahead of me, the sky was still a vibrant tangerine color.



SPRING.
I was thinking today, as I passed over the Chicago River on the el, about things I can sink my teeth into. Like rivers. Like Lake Michigan. Like ladder-like pine trees. Like dunes. Like a steep grade and a narrow path, good shoes, and leg muscles. Like fresh air and flowering trees, like raindrops and layers of history exposed on the sides of sandstone cliffs. Like that yellow-gold-green that leaves turn when you are seeing the sun through them. Like dragonflies and those odd bugs that walk on the surface tension of river water. Like crayfish. Like waves. Like the copper-tasting water in the upper peninsula. Like arctic breezes, lost and wayward down here in the Midwest.

In short, I was thinking today about Michigan. I'm going back to Michigan in one week. I can hardly breathe without wishing I were breathing Michigan air. I can hardly cross the street without wishing I were crossing a Michigan street. Through the library windows, I could see Lake Michigan stretching out away from the city, miles of water and fish and seaweed, shipwrecks and sand. On the other side, waters are a clear cerulean. Here, they are an odd perversion of teal that looks sickly.

Around my neighborhood here in Chicago, I feel differently. I will miss little Albany Park when I'm gone, I think. Getting off of the Brown Line at Francisco, I sometimes find myself thinking of Chicago the same way I think of Grand Rapids. It's not quite words, more like a strong inclination. I get the urge to climb trees, explore houses, walk down alleys, roll in the grass, and slip behind bushes into their secret kingdoms.

Today, the sun came out just before sunset to give the world a hallowed kind of look. The flowering trees in front of the apartments across of Sacramento street gave off a wavering scent in the cool breeze. The rain a couple of days ago washed away the thickness of the air, and now it was clear and sharp. Now, you could inhale the fragrance of those tiny white flowers all the way down to the bottom of your lungs without stuffing up your nose, without causing your eyes to redden and tear. The grass was brightly green against the reinvigorated blackness of the soil. In the house on the corner of Sacramento and Leland, someone served dinner in the airy dining room. The streets were clear and dry. I wanted to get out my bike and tool around, or cover the sidewalks in chalked hopscotch boards. I wanted to get into those bushes and create worlds out of their encompassing branches. I wanted, desperately, to be little again, to have the freedom of late afternoons again. I didn't want to think back or ahead, I just wanted to exist in the ocher-golden light of the evening, and play.

~*~

 I don't write like this much anymore, and I wonder where I lost it. But I still feel the sense of wonder at the changing of the seasons whether I am in Michigan, Chicago, or here in silly old Maryland. The earth is beneath me, the sky above, and nature pervades throughout.

“I feel a pull on the rope, let me off at the rainbow…” - Genesis, “Anyway”
“I can see the orange sky in front of me, I can see things you’ll never see...” Days of the
New, “Whimsical”

Wild Herds of Feral Shopping Carts Sighted in Germantown

I had to finagle the camera to get a trash-free view, and if you enlarge it....It's there.

We've been having glorious weather this week in Maryland, 75° and sunny, low humidity, and cool breezes, and I've been taking advantage of this to walk Tilly almost every day.

Unhappy ending to a deadly scuffle over territory?

During these walks, I've been noticing something disturbing more and more.  In ditches and creeks near footpaths between the apartment complexes of Germantown, I saw several shopping carts, blocks away from their stores, trashed.

The footpaths that go through the apartment complexes here are generally pretty nice walks. They get you off of impersonal streets and into a quieter area green and shaded by trees.  The one I take crosses a bright little creek a couple of times and last time I saw a bird with a wingspan as wide as my spread arms. It was black and immense, and it eyed Tilly and me for a few moments before it flapped off. Birds swoop, chipmunks scatter as you walk by, and the trees make little dapples of sunshine. It would be a perfectly lovely place to walk, if it weren't for the wild shopping carts that roam the area.

I come across their remains quite often along the otherwise picturesque path. Lately, I've been seeing the little black ones, but I've seen full-size, rusted, half-submerged shopping carts stuck in the creek bed, sunken into muddy areas. Sometimes there's one by itself, sometimes they're grouped together. And it's only been getting worse.

I've seen shopping carts blocks away from their stores, huddled under the bus stop. They're not in their orderly rows, corralled in parking lots and the vestibules of grocery stores. They're not even near any cart-providing stores. They're just huddled at the bus stop with the rest of the commuters. They look like cows grazing, or urban nuisances like pigeons or geese. It's kind of cute, when you can theriomorphize them. (Fabulous word, the product of an arduous word hunt and supplied, in the end, by @melindamcguire on Twitter.) When you interpret what is not animal in terms of animal characteristics, they become sympathetic.

Gross, ugly, and harmful.

But these carts, and all this other trash I photographed on my walk, is really dangerous to the natural ecosystems of the area. Wildlife has a hard enough time surviving when we "tame" (read: destroy) all of their habitats. It only adds insult to injury to then pollute the few places we leave for them.

And treating this trash like it's a natural part of the ecosystem removes the feeling that is harmful, and removes responsibility to keep our area nice for us and for the wildlife here. The carts and bikes and basketballs and pop bottles do not occur naturally in nature.

It is always astounding to me how blatant people can be about not putting their trash in appropriate areas. Granted, there will always be accidents. Baseballs will be batted and never found. Wrappers will fall out of pockets. But a few weeks ago, I saw a woman pushing home her groceries in a cart, a child riding along in the kids seat, and another one on a razor scooter. I've seen teenagers riding grocery carts down my street like they're some sort of skateboard.

Come, on, people. Don't you want to live in a nice area where there isn't trash all over the trails, and where people act with integrity and thoughtfulness?

The Heron

I didn't have my camera with me today when Gordon and I took Tilly for a walk at Seneca Creek State Park, but we saw one of these herons. We were walking down a steep path with root steps, and we spooked it. It lifted off a branch above us and swooped down to land in a little creek we were about to cross.

I un-gracefully squawked, "HOLY CRAP!" It's wings were so wide and it was so close to us that it shadowed us for a second. It was such a cool steely gray, so weirdly alien. It went to stand in the gummy, grimy water, and it watched us out of the corner of its eye as we passed. It took a few slow-motion steps forward, watching Tilly. Tilly was completely oblivious to it. I swear, she would be a terrible hunting dog. (She doesn't even chase squirrels unless they're climbing up her screen.)

The heron eventually decided that we were boring and continued to gaze out over the lake, and we went on. It was a really good walk though. We met a nice couple twice. They have a farm in Gaithersburg, and a Pomeranian. The husband wants a motorcycle. It is their new years resolution to walk more often, but the wife is bored with their neighborhood, so the husband took her to the park. I never learned their names, but we met them twice and they laughed at my dumb joke. And they liked Tilly's boots and backpack.

Everyone loves Tilly. She is kind of universally adorable. And don't get me wrong, of course, I think my dog is adorable. But people seem drawn to her. People stop their cars and get out to pet her. They roll down their windows and yell. Almost every single person I pass with her stops, or at least says something. I think I might make her a youtube channel or something. She does some pretty adorable things. Like her dervishing, and when she lays down and does her wiggles like a kid at a roller rink playing dead bug. :)

Anyway, in other news, I joined some groups on Meetup.com, and they look promising. One is a doing-things-with-dogs group. They do activities and walks and such. Another is a writing/art group that is having a meetup in Silver Spring on Wednesday. Man. People getting together to write and do art? Sign me up! Hehe. I'm trying to get Gordon to go, but kind of half-heartedly. I mean, I'd love it if he went, but I have to get used to doing things on my own. He's going to be in field med in June, and then deployed probably. So I have to be able to make friends and find things to do by myself. I'm so bored lately. Chronically bored. You can tell by my past two posts. Boredom just turns my thoughts inward, and that can be a terrible thing. I do so much better if I don't force things.

Well, oddly enough for lately, I'm actually kind of tired. I'm going to start ending each of my posts with a quote from a book or movie or song that I've been thinking about. I used to do that on my Xanga about a thousand years ago, and it's the only thing I liked about it. :)

So without further ado, so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodnight.

"The idea hovered and shimmered delicately, like a soap bubble, and she dared not even look at it directly in case it burst. But she was familiar with the way of ideas, and she let it shimmer, looking away, thinking about something else." - The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

How to Get a Life

It's funny.

I spend a lot of time watching other people do things that I want to do. I'm not quite nerdy enough to write on the public interwebs that I would like to go questing or adventuring, and I'm far too wimpy to put myself in any real danger, but a lot of the satisfaction that I get from things like World of Warcraft and fantasy books, TV, and movies comes from imagining myself in the positions of the characters.

Watching people being active, fighting for something, having fun, being in danger, being excellent at what they do is all fine and good, but I feel like I'm becoming some raging voyeur of their lives. My life is so BORING. It seems like there just aren't many options for having fun. Well, there are options, of course, but you need money to do it.

Money.

[insert useless ramblings about the evil constriction of money]

And that is a useless argument because I know that it is not a reason, it is an excuse. I can not blame my lack of money on my lack of life.

And fun is not the only thing I need. I need purpose.

There is a disconnect between what I feel like "living" is and what I feel like I am able to do. I feel like I should have a destination, that I should be searching for something, that I should be working toward something. And I feel like "working" should feel like moving forward. I should feel the wind on my cheeks as I move.

But I am trapped here. I'm super-glued to my chair. I have no money. I have no confidence in my skills. I am afraid to jump into the deep end. But it is more than that. I don't know where the deep end is. I can't find my way to the pool. How does one begin living?

Okay, first, I know I have to get out of the house, physically. But go where? Where am I welcome with no money? Where can I get on foot?

The library? The park? Where does life happen? Bars? Starbucks? Work?

What do I do? What do I want to do? How do I do it? What is meaningful?

I am lonely. I crave friendship. But how do I make friends? It seems instinctual, easy. But I meet people, and I do not get close to them. I like them well enough, but it has been a long time since I have felt friendship form. I have many acquaintances, but very few of those acquaintances change into friendships.

It seems as though everything is a sham. I feel like I need to dive into the earth. Find something real. Find some happy medium between material girl and hippie.

I feel the need to run. Drive. Get out here. Find something worth finding. Do something worth doing. But what would that achieve? Is that living?

Maybe the season inspires my restlessness. Discontent. Spring should bring things of value. I feel like I'm bursting with restlessness. I didn't sleep last night. Not until this morning, until I was exhausted. Slept through the day, woke, watched TV, plated some WoW, ate Chinese food, read a book. It's night now and Gordon is asleep on the couch.

Another day wasted.

Perhaps I'll have better luck tomorrow.

Spring Cleaning

Well, my last post was about a zillion years ago, but I've decided to restart it.

A couple of months ago, I quit my job for a variety of reasons. But I wanted to see if I could be a house wife. I wanted to see if I would get satisfaction from keeping house and having time to read and write. I was frustrated that my job took up so much of my time and didn't provide the same amount of satisfaction. I was not content.

So I quit my job, came home, and...did nothing. Not a damn thing. See, (and I knew this about myself before I quit,) I am not very self motivated. Given the choice between watching TV and cleaning the house, guess what I am going to do nine times out of ten? For me, freedom ≠ happiness. Or productivity. Or really, anything of value.

The nastiness about this is that I know this about myself. I know that there is a danger that I won't do anything. It is difficult for me to be productive. When I spend a moment and force myself to think about why this is, I come back to an odd feeling.

Pride.

It's not quite as easy as saying it's beneath me to do chores. Or even to put things away when I'm done with them. It's more of a feeling that I have more important things to do. This all happens lightning fast in my head, but I'll consider myself doing something simple. A simple, painless task like putting my dishes in the dishwasher. And the progression kind of goes like this:

I should put this away.
I could not put this away though.
Instead, I could just put this in the sink and be done with it.
But I SHOULD put this away.
But I don't have to.
But I should.
But it's so much faster just to stick it in the sink.
Not SO much faster. Why NOT put it in the dishwasher?
I don't want to. Why do you get to tell me what to do?
Well, it's what you're SUPPOSED to do.
Who cares?
I don't, you just should.
Well, I don't wanna.
Well, okay then.
Okay.

And I put it in the sink. Now, obviously, I don't do this all in words. It's a quick pushing-pulling feeling that almost always ends in me doing whatever is easiest.

Aha. Easy.

Well, seeking out the easiest path is smart for something like a river, which always takes the easiest course, but for me, it just says to me that I'm lazy. Lazy as hell.

Welcome to the next phase of my day: guilt. For me, guilt is not a motivator. Guilt breeds guilt. Guilt does not mean that I feel bad, and next time, put the dish in the dishwasher. Guilt, for me, means avoidance. This means that next time I should put a dish away, I don't get a push and pull feeling. I'm just resigned to being a failure.

Hey, self loathing. Didn't see you there. Come in, come in, make yourself at home. I'm about to host a pity party. Stick around.

It makes me ill.

So I started searching for a job, and I've had a few interviews; it's looking pretty promising actually.

But I know that work is not a cure. Work keeps me busy enough not to worry too much about the above. But it's still there. It's beneath everything that causes me to be discontent. It's beneath all of my unhappiness. My disappointment in myself.

I know that I am the only one who can fix myself. And that it does not happen without hard work. I have been trying to tell myself, "I can control myself. If I know I have to do something, I can make myself do it. I am not a slave." It feels like I have a little angel and devil on my shoulder, and the devil wins out every time. I'm weak. But how do you get stronger? You work out. You work your muscles. Lately I have been trying to force myself to be productive, you know, mind over matter. But it's hard. I'm fighting myself the whole way.

Which sounds ridiculous. Why fight myself? I AM myself! I am on my side! Why am I getting in my own way?

I'm not sure. And I'm not sure that it matters. I think a lot of my problem is over thinking. I got a bunch done today, and I didn't think much about it. I just did it. I vacuumed. I did laundry. I straightened up and dusted. I didn't think about it or worry over it. There was no push and pull. Just productivity. Pride. Good mood. Satisfaction.

So maybe right now, I should just try to get out of my head for a while. Stop thinking. Start doing. Stop worrying it. Like Lyra in the Golden Compass looking for answers with the alethiometer. The alethiometer does not give answers if you prod at it. You just be patient, wait for the symbols to fall into place.

Tomorrow, I'm not going to plan anything. I'm not going to lay in bed and think about how I can be all productive. I'm just going to sleep and in the morning....who knows?

We'll see.

Till next time.