far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, January 29, 2004

I spent the last five or six days going flat out. Or that, at least, is how it felt. Classes, studying, writing. Laundry, groceries, all that. All made a bit more intense by my having a disastrous evening in Spanish class Monday night, where I couldn't seem to do the simplest thing, language-wise, without making a mess of it. I don't like feeling incompetent, and when it happens in a obvious, embarrassing ways, I get hypermotivated to make sure it doesn't happen again. Meaning I spent Monday night, Tuesday, Wednesday studying in concentrated fashion. Last night's class went fine, leaving me feeling relieved and free enough to join a friend at a small, funky café afterwards, unwinding for the first time in a while. Rewarded myself today with a morning and afternoon mostly free of anything resembling work.

Indolence sometimes is its own reward.

There's not much of any real import to pass on here apart from the living of my foolish little life. Simply being alive, the days flipping by at high velocity, sunlight and nighttime hours flickering past as if someone had been playing with a cosmic light switch.

What's caught my eye during walks around the city recently are faces. A couple of days back, I passed a mother walking with two little girls, a small, very young one being held in motherly arms, another, maybe six or seven years old, walking beside them. The older daughter wore a winter jacket over a school uniform. Long dark hair, dark eyes, face almost free of expression, eyes watchful and serious, taking in the world. There was no way to tell what thoughts were passing through that young mind, but she appeared to be a soul in serious input mode, absorbing sound, sensation, movement. Our eyes met briefly, hers flickered immediately away as she listened to something her mother said. And then they were gone.

Yesterday, late afternoon: me walking back here, coming up the block from the plaza. Two 50-something women passed, one an exceptionally normal-looking person. Average height. Shortish, matronly blonde hair. Wearing sunglasses, matronly clothes. A person who would blend easily into a crowd, not standing out in any way except by how easily she didn't stand out. She chewed gum, and as we approached each other, our gazes met. She held mine, expression blank, and began to blow a gum bubble. One that grew bigger and bigger, our gazes still holding as we moved by each other, until the bubble hid most of her face, her dark glasses peering steadily at me over it. So that I couldn't help myself, an enormous smile spread across my face at the comic strangeness of the moment.

She sucked the bubble back into her mouth, she and her friend continued on, her friend saying something, the gum chewer listening intently.

Just one moment in the stream of moments that made up that day, there and gone in seconds flat.

Pretty good exhibition of bubble blowing. Hard to ignore. Which may have been the point. Kind of calls into question the first impression of extreme normalcy.

We're an interesting bunch, we humans. You can never be completely sure what any of us will do from one moment to the next.

I dont know about you, but I like that.

rws 1:04 PM [+]

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>
BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted.


runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



Syndicate This Site

Blogarama

BlogCatalog

Bloggapedia, Blog Directory - Find It!



technorati profile

Subscribe with Bloglines

www.flickr.com
runswithscissors' photos More of runswithscissors' photos