Category Archives: Personal

Personal

Saturday Disclosure

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“Wandering the world, armed with chalk.” This would probably be a great quote to be atop a police report for suspicious activity. Words and ideas are suspicious enough. Judging by the scarcity of anything other than impersonal superficial observations, it’s no wonder people are reluctant to disclose. We aren’t supposed to say that our souls are fatigued at times. That we might be painfully lonely. Or that when we look at people around us, we sometimes feel like opposing teams of aliens, both communicating via hieroglyphics. Each of us carries around a private world in our skull. We are certain that people will think our marbles might be scattered if we share the contents. It’s because thoughts are private and concealable. I’m sure that if mind reading were reality, after the initial shock and unfamiliarity of unavoidable honesty, we would all feel relief. We share a finite number of emotions. And we definitely like to look at other people like they are the weird ones. We can succeed at doing so only because we can curate what we express.

Some of us have poet’s hearts. Others, a practical chronometer that concerns itself only with getting things done. A few are hedonists, searching for the elusive bacchanalia that might allow them to forget themselves. Walking down Leverett, even before the sun dares to rise, the scent of recreational escape intermittently reaches my nose.  It would be easy to judge those who choose it so early in their day. But many of us choose coffee or cigarettes, both of which are cleverly concealed stimulant delivery devices.

During my chalking expedition disguised as a recreational walk this morning, I was pleased to see that the front of the line at the convenience store was occupied by a patron wearing a long blue bathrobe. I made a catty comment and it broke the ice. Because you damn well know everyone in there was secretly thinking about the dude in the robe. Was he wearing it for comfort? Attention? Was it family spa day? The explanation didn’t matter to me. I was just glad to see some weirdness. He at least had the nerve to wear it openly instead of containing it in the camouflage of his thoughts.

I left a trail of chalk thoughts. If anyone retraces my steps, they will laugh. And a couple of them will make them think. Among those possible considerations is whether the author needs to be medicated. I have a theory about that. Most of the people who use drugs should stop. And a great number of people who don’t probably should start.

Though it’s not related, one of the stories I told the clerk this morning is that it’s amazing how many things we do today that are a result of unplanned echoes from history. Even the size of our railroad tracks is largely a result of the ruts in roads from Roman chariots. And that we as people do the same thing. We find ourselves using the grooves of our past routine to subconsciously control the day we’ll have. I know it’s not the normal fodder for convenience store conversation, but it’s a hell of a lot better than talking about the upcoming gladiatorial sports event that seems to have infected everyone.

If by some miracle you are still reading this post, take a moment and imagine that you had the power to say anything you want. To anyone. Take another moment to realize that you already do. The greater the disparity between what you would like to say and what you silence is a determinant in how happy you feel.

Love, X
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Fayetteville, Humor, Personal, Razorback Greenway, Safety, Security

Thanks, Gomez!

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I saw him coming up the trail access. The shadows and lighting at 2 a.m. were murky at best. His approach seemed suspicious. I’m not generally concerned about the what-ifs of such people. Someone can just as easily jump onto me from the tree canopy if they’d like. (At times, I almost wish someone would. What a story that would be.) I can run fast, and my appearance tricks people into thinking I’m Gomer. While I am no Bruce Lee, I can snatch someone bald-headed faster than they can say “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” I say “hello” or wave to everyone. I’d probably wave “howdy” to the Queen if she came sightseeing.

It had to be a man approaching me or perhaps the Beauty Queen of Madison County. I realize that I am repeating myself with that comparison. My apologies to the residents of Madison County, all of whom stopped reading after the first paragraph due to lip fatigue.

As he grew closer, the light from the streetlight illuminated him more. He had one hand in his pocket, and his pace seemed off.

As he came closer, my comedic instincts took over. “Have you seen my pet llama? He got out of the backyard a few minutes ago.”

“What’s that you said? A llama?” He pronounced it oddly, like he’d grown up learning phonetics from an inebriated bingo caller.

“A llama, yes. He got out.”

He stopped in his tracks, confused. “No. Not even a dog.”

“Dang. Thanks. I can’t own dogs, though. Not after Ohio.”

I could see that the gears weren’t clicking. It was too much odd conversation. He looked back and then at me two or three times.

“Well, have a good morning. I hope my llama is okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, and kept walking, this time with a stable pace. I briefly wondered what he might do if I started running toward HIM. Imagine that police report.

“Gomez, where are you?” I half-shouted, even if the residents are the nearby apartment complex heard me.

My llama Gomez didn’t materialize.

You’re welcome to use the Gomez the Llama self-defense response if you’d like.

X
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Airbnb, Personal, Travel

Away

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Waking up in a strange place, drinking a cup of bitter coffee, walking the unknown pre-sunrise streets, feeling the warm breeze blow across the small man-made lake, standing in a pool watching the sun feebly start its ascent, taking sips of a second cup waiting for me on the pool edge… sublime delights owed to my predilection for less sleep. Lemon moments stolen from the day. Sunday morning, I walked all the streets around the Bentonville airport. Several things reminded me of what James Cameron might include in the moments immediately before an approaching apocalypse. The effect was amplified because of diffused lights, some of which were unusual hues, especially so with violet and soft reds. There were no moving cars during the entirety of my circuits through those streets. The effect was amplified because I had watched an anomalous object in the sky for a few minutes. The flat topography provided an immense view of the sky. I looped around back to highway 71 and walked the middle of the lane. It’s fascinating walking it absent traffic.  Monday morning, I walked a longer different route that ended immediately before the sunrise. I stood and watched the open sky, expansive above me, with the reflection of the lake glittering darkly. When the true sunrise started, I continued my custom of hanging a cup in a tree.

This place wasn’t as complicated or eccentric as most. But the simplicity was relaxing and beautiful. It’s hard to complain about life when there is a pool to submerge one’s toes and worries. It was amazing to get up early and instead of focusing all of my energy on work, I was able to just walk with no intentions.

Love, X


Behavior, Mental Health, Opinion, Personal, TV

Argument And Life

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The original picture is from Six Feet Under, one of my favorite shows. Just the memory of it sharpens internal knives inside me. The series finale still resonates as the de facto best series finale ever produced.

A few years ago, I modified the picture with one additional line. It’s a reminder that if you’re invested in ‘winning’ an argument, you’re also watching your precious time race past you – along with all the other things you could be doing. Most of us don’t win arguments. Not because we’re wrong or right, but rather due to the fact that most arguments are either a matter of opinion or stubborn bias against facts or other perspectives. If people won’t listen to facts or evolving discoveries, you’re playing by a different set of rules subject to the other person’s whimsy. And if neither of you can recognize the futility of individual perspective, you might be living on another planet.

The people who intelligently challenge you are the very people you probably need the most in your life. But also the ones that you shun. Who wants to live a life of introspection and self-accountability? It would be a marathon just making it to breakfast to have a life filled with such people.

“You sit in such judgment of the world. How do you expect to ever be a part of it?” Olivier (who was one of the smartest and most irritating characters on the show).

Love, X
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Lemon Moment, Personal

He

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It was 100°. I saw him walking a little erratically near the trail so I changed course to accidentally cross paths. It seemed like heat exhaustion. He surprised me by walking under the bridge on the trail so I went over it and made a loop. I asked him if he needed anything. He was quite polite. There was something off about his voice. He declined anything to drink, eat and said he didn’t need a ride anywhere. He went on to tell me that he works very early in the morning with a friend of his in Springdale. When he’s done, he walks back because his friend has to go immediately to another job. I told him that I didn’t mean to intrude but between the way he was walking and the unusual cadence of his speech, it concerned me a little more. He took a moment and then told me that when he was younger one of several stepfathers had beaten him severely enough to cause permanent damage. I wished him well as he took his shirt off and then his shoes. His plan was to step into the creek and cool off before walking the rest of the way back to wherever he lived. It struck me how different his reasons for getting into the stream are compared to mine. The man plugs along and does what he has to. My deck of cards looks a lot less stacked now.

Lemon Moment, Mental Health, Personal

Distraction

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“You cannot shovel your way to the top of the mountain.” You can thank lyricist Ricardo Arjona for the sentiment. It means different things to different people. And nothing to those who don’t love the nuance of language. I walked in the blazing sunlight of this Vulcan August afternoon. When I descended into the creek bed, the canopy of trees lessened he heat by 20°. Though the water has diminished, the creek still runs and the water is clearer than ever. I wish my head to be as diaphanous and in the moment as the minnows congregating at my feet. I can live happily with very little, much less than most. Don’t get me wrong. I love the embrace of the air created by the air conditioner. And the almost instant cup of bitter coffee that my machine produces upon demand. I love the vibration of music in my ears, the pulse of cleverly constructed and beautiful ideas passing through my little brain. It’s true that I don’t experience boredom. But I do experience the overwhelming sensation at times that I’m facing the wrong direction and that the universe has been tapping me on the shoulder for decades. I stood in the creek and lost track of time again. Watching the minnows with envy. It is beyond strange to me how moments of Zen are often literally at our feet. Distraction, distraction, distraction.

Love, X
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Lemon Moment, Personal

Glimmer Nostalgia

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The girls to whom I gifted the chalk yesterday did indeed end up drawing in several places around the creek. It’s mostly obliterated now by the bikes and feet that traversed it in the interim. That’s okay. Not just because chalk is a temporary method of artwork. Rather, glimmers (or lemon moments as I call them), they are transitory, fleeting, and trapped in the amber of memory. I hope when they grow older they remember their loving grandfather who brought them to places like this. And that they do the same for anyone who follows them.

Perhaps due to the August heat, I remembered my grandpa for a bit as the hot surfaces attempted to burn the bottoms of my feet. Grandpa walked with me from the little township of Rich to a commensurate community named Monroe. A long stretch of flat highway, flanked by thousands of acres of crops. Dragonflies buzzing, and the sound of my grandpa’s voice. His voice was mostly silent and though I trick myself into believing I can sometimes remember its resonance in my dreams, that’s probably nostalgic wishful thinking.

The water is cool today, though not as chilly as yesterday. There are no little souls frolicking in the water. None of which thwarted my enjoyment of the moment.

Love, X
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Fayetteville, Lemon Moment, Personal

Chalk

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I went to the creek earlier than normal. It’s trickier to walk the hidden trail in the back now, especially barefoot. The foliage is taking over. The smells are incredible. There were no falls as I walked down the middle of the creek.

As I finished my creek walk, a grandfather came down the incline, followed by two frolicking little girls. The grandfather asked me how slippery it was inside the creek today, so I told him to step into the water on the dam side. Because I sat on the embankment wall with my feet dangling in the air, I could hear him interact with his granddaughters. All I heard was kindness in his voice. Because of the splashing, I surmised that all three of them had taken off their shoes and socks, rolled up their pants as I had done, and stepped into the cool water. Such a simple pleasure, even to hear it as it unfolded.

When I walked back across the parking lot to my car, I got out several sticks of thick sidewalk chalk of various colors. I walked down to the creek bed and handed them to the grandfather. He was delighted as he handed them to his granddaughters. “What do you say,” he asked both of them. Both girls turned, smiled, and said thank you. “Draw something crazy,” I said, and wished them all a good evening.

As I walked away, one of the granddaughters asked, “What’s that sound” as the backdrop of insects roared once again. “Let’s draw whatever it is,” the other girl said.

It’s nice to hear good people doing basic things to enjoy the day. It makes me feel less eccentric.

Love, X
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Music, Nostalgia, Personal

Who Knew?

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Who Knew?

I had to pull over and let the music play. It was unexpected. Pink’s song “Who Knew” came on and it took me back a couple of decades. It was only recently that the singer talked extensively about the song originally being about a huge loss she had suffered. The song was featured in a short-lived TV series named “October Road.” I didn’t watch the show but I heard it often in the background, as someone close to me loved the show. Afterward, it was impossible to hear the melody without a bell of melancholy ringing inside me. All these years later to find out that Pink felt a similar loss makes the song much more meaningful. Not all melancholy is bad. It serves as a reminder, too. Especially when you find yourself doing the things you have to do so that you can do the things that you want to do – and can’t always grasp the point or meaning. Most of our days are founded on obligation and routine. While the universe laughs and flies by us.

Love, X

Fayetteville, Lemon Moment, Personal, Psychology

Lemon Moment / Glimmer

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“If you go into the building with that much enthusiasm and energy, you’re going to end up with a nail driven into each palm.” That’s the quip I hollered at someone as they came in this morning and the one which inspired the following words:

When you run into somebody who is so full of enthusiasm and energy, it is either one of the best things in life or a trigger. It’s a trigger if you’re missing those things. But when the mutual laughter and enthusiasm collide, it’s a joyous ball of energy. Probably one that annoys onlookers. For that reason, I carry both Lone Ranger masks and COVID masks for the potential naysayers.  Due to legal issues, they confiscated my taser. My plea that I only used it on myself went unheeded.

Because I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, I took my shoes off in the work parking lot and walked down to the creek nearby instead of one of my usual spots. The water is much cooler than my last visit. Unlike me. I’m as hip as a polyester suit at this point. But my desire to come down here and stand in the water stands among my best decisions. It tickles me as people race by and see me in their peripheral vision. I probably look like a rutabaga with a dumb smile on my face. I look goofy enough to get a nomination to the Supreme Court.
Love, X