Category Archives: Personal

Lemon Moment, Personal

In Time

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I got up around 3:00 a.m. EST. I crept as quietly downstairs as I could, despite the creaking floorboards. Sound is relative and most of us know how cacophonous any quiet attempt to exit can be, especially in a dark house. I made a bitter cup of coffee and drank it standing out in the red moonlight in the backyard, the pool shimmering and casting shadows. Planning ahead last night, I left everything I needed to get dressed easily. I headed out to the beautiful suburban streets filled with interesting houses and countless lives.  The mostly quiet streets fascinated me with the asymmetrical and beautifully maintained older houses.  Invariably, I think of sonder and the millions of homes, each of them filled with an encapsulated universe of family. This neighborhood is quietly captivating. A small terrier ran to me in the dark. No bark, just a wagging tail asking for a little bit of affection. I kneeled and provided it and he went back to whichever house he calls home. The walk was gorgeous and the fifty-five degree breeze was just enough to be chilly. Though it is very early, the streets echoed with unseen birds chirping and singing for an audience of one. When I reached the main road, I watched the bakery trucks at the Italian market and the people manning them as they scurried to complete their early morning business. It was impossible to avoid looking at the beautiful strawberry moon and think imtrospective thoughts. The evening before was filled with laughs and conversation with Erika’s mom. At eighty-one, she’s had a long interesting life; love, family, and experiences that could fill a book. Like all fascinating accounts, her life has been interspersed with drama and turmoil as well. But you wouldn’t necessarily know it by looking at her beautiful eyes or hearing her laugh. I knew I would have to stop walking the dark streets at some point. But it’s one of the things I love. Leaving a house with people still enjoying the deep sleep that escapes me most nights. Ever since my transformation, I’ve learned that there must be a reason that I’ve been gifted with this extra time, moments tucked away and stolen for a different life. If we’re lucky, we search for meaning. When I’m out walking in a foreign place, time slips away. My thoughts diminish and I just experience the things and pavement around me. It’s as close to Zen as I can probably ask for. My feet won’t return to this place. My mind, however, will always recall this quiet morning and the night before when I met a new person who feels like I’ve known her forever. I chose a picture at random from the ones I snapped on the walk. Pictures don’t contain memories; they merely anchor them to a moment in time. Love, X

Humor, Personal

Color Me Fabulous

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Want To Laugh?

Erika was finishing in the other bathroom. I decided to shower too.  Ever since the baby shark incident, she won’t let me shower with her. Often, I shower in the dark but left the light on this time – not that it helped to have it on this time.  No soap. Okay, I will use body wash. None. Shampoo basically empty, But used what little I could get out, just enough to get my head and face soapy. No problem. I grabbed the dark bottle on top to finish. Squirted too much on me. Rubbed it all  over me. Something seemed off. I rinsed my eyes as best I could. I was shocked to see I was covered in blue or black… something. Not only that, but I could see it apparently staining the tub and the shower curtain. One part of me wanted to holler for a Erika to come see the incredulous mess. The other part of me, my lizard brain, desperately tried to get whatever it was off of me and off of the shower and tub. This is a Airbnb after all. I’m not sure blackening the shower tub is covered under the deposit. My showers are routinely very fast. Not this time. I felt like I emptied Lake Michigan attempting to get the dark stain off of me and everything else. While I was still rinsing, Erika stepped in and I decided to tell her what I had done now that it looked like all the damage had been erased. Someone had left a bottle of Redken blue color enhancer on the top shelf of the shower. And a miraculous series of coincidences resulted in me using it as body wash.
X

Lemon Moment, Personal, Travel

Ohio Morning

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Standing in the wet grass, not too far from a foreign interstate. Looking at the low red moon. Feeling the unobstructed breeze hit me. Behind me, a hotel full of nomads on their way to somewhere else. I’m a temporary nomad myself. It’s strange how I find something wonderful in each new acre. Going back to the parking lot, I helped an older couple load their bags into their mammoth truck. People I will never see again. And a place that will soon be a memory, and on my way to hopefully make new ones. Love, X

Family, Personal, Psychology

Worry Or Not

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My grandma was a worrier. I have a lot of stories about teasing her and the seemingly outlandish ways she would creatively invent to worry about new things. She was born in the early 1900s and lived through apocalyptic tornadoes, the depression, wars, and things that probably would have debilitated me. It’s fascinating to be older and to understand her a little bit more. At a certain point, you think you’ve seen it all. That’s when the universe looks down on you and says, “Hold my beer.” X

Behavior, Death, Personal, Uncategorized

Tomorrow

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I sat in a pew, surrounded by a throng of people, listening to someone talk about their loved one. I was there in part to repay a debt incurred sixteen years ago.

“Who among us thought that a week ago we would be here? Or a month? Or a year?” Everyone listening to him would feel the urgency of an indistinct carpe diem tug at their heart. As the day would go on, though, most would let distractions and the to-do’s push the essential reminder out of their head. That’s just life.

Later, someone said to me, “Tomorrow.”

And I still can’t find the words to explain to people why the procrastination of tomorrow rings like a stick of dynamite in my ears.

I don’t want a promissory note, one serving as a promise of a hug, a laugh, or of a moment that might not ever come due.

Tomorrow.

If we’re lucky.

And if we’re not, what’s put off until tomorrow is gone forever.

There’s something about this that defines me.

Maybe it’s experience or age, perhaps it’s loss. The window to enjoy life and people shuts incrementally.

Tomorrow is here and it’s all you have. It’s camouflaged as today. If you wake up groggy, take a moment to taste the coffee. If you have someone, touch them lightly as a way to remind them.

Love, X
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Art, DIY, Lemon Moment, Personal

Something Old, Something Renewed

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Erika gave me the old tea lamp. I revived it, putting a glass column inside it and wrapping multicolored fairy lights around the core. I went to bed before the sunset last night and was unable to witness its premiere. Not to mention that I forgot to turn it on so that the photosensitive light would trigger automatically so that I might see it when I woke up ridiculously early. Color, color, and more color. X

Behavior, Personal, Psychology, TikTok

Who We Are

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I’m a very hands-on affectionate person. Could it be a trauma response to my childhood? I hope so. I unilaterally rejected almost all the behaviors and habits of my parents. There are some consequences to growing up that way that have positive benefits. I’m not worried about being emotional, saying I love you, hugging, or expressing myself. I’m not aggressive, but there is a buried hardness inside me thanks to my dad. I didn’t realize that it could be a good thing until much later in life. It’s there if needed. My instincts are a guide for me. That too is probably a trauma response. I’m aware of the fact that it developed from needing to be dialed into the potential for drama and violence and the danger of lesser people. It can be an anxiety response that doesn’t serve my happiness sometimes. But its presence and the overthinking it causes has at times been a lightning bolt in my head that frequently categorizes people for me, even when there’s nothing observable to justify it. I can’t change things that happened decades ago. Likewise, I am happy that the maelstrom of toxicity affected me. I would have rather grown up otherwise. I can’t change that, though. I wish I could double back twenty years and see if these realizations would yield a different me. But that past thinking always robs the present and the future. I’m me, and you’re you. Both of us have the opportunity to redefine and discard the things about ourselves that don’t work well for us. Mostly, though? We don’t. Change is hard, insight is sporadic, and the motivation to put in the work to be who we’d like is unimaginably uncomfortable. Love, X

@xteriq

#behavior #psychology #motivation #realization #truth #personal #change #acceptance #experience #trauma #instincts #foryoupage #FYP

♬ The Oldies – Michael Watts
Fayetteville, Lemon Moment, Personal

A Moment

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There’s something to be said about walking a canopied path, one with an unknown terminus. I hear the dutiful mower off in the unmeasured distance and the inescapable traffic humming from another planet. Birds without cipher, and the gentle waterfall of the creek. I walk barefoot on the path. I am more than willing to accept the bite of an unexpected pebble. Descending into the creek, I let the energetic minnows nibble and dart at my feet. My feet toughen perennially with the inevitable warmth. As I stood in the creek today, I watched a snake rhythmically approach me. I stood motionless to avoid disturbing it or drawing its attention. In a moment of mindless forgetfulness, I reached into the creek to pick up a beautiful flat stone, forgetting my Fitbit watch on my wrist. Luckily, nature and technology called a truce. A woman and her blue-silver eyed German Shepherd came down to the creek bottom so that the dog could drink and frolic. He nuzzled my hand as I stood in water that was only a foot deep. He thanked me by splashing and shaking the water from his coat as he moved away. The solitude was refreshing, but I wish I could have had a hand near me, attached to someone listening to me pointing excitedly at what probably seems like mundane nature. For a while out there, there were moments I didn’t even have my own voice in my head.
Love, X
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Behavior, Lemon Moment, Personal

P O N D E R: A Moment

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He was lost in the maze of the hospital. Somehow he found himself in a hallway by elevators reserved for the people conducting the largely hidden work that sustains such a place. He stood by the elevators, casually looking at all the unhelpful signage. The access doors opened to his right. A nurse pushing a bed came through them, struggling with the effort. On the bed lay a young woman about 16 years of age. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked uncertain. Next to her was an open book upside down. The nurse dragged the bed to a stop inches away from the man. He turned towards the young girl and said, “You look so much like my niece.” The young woman smiled weakly toward him and nodded. “Are you doing okay?” he asked her. She shook her head “no” as the nurse watched her. “I know you don’t know me, but do you need anything?” His voice cracked as he spoke. The young woman reached up with her right hand and held his. The man didn’t flinch and lightly gripped her hand in return. After a few seconds, she let go and smiled again. The nurse gave the bed a sharp push and continued down the hall. Anyone standing there bore witness to one of those rare moments of anonymous caring. The kind we hope fills every corner of the world.
Love, X
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Language, Lemon Moment, Personal

You Say Goodbye And I Say Hello

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I sat in my little blue car as the rain pounded the roof. I wasn’t waiting on the rain to subside. I was writing my little anecdote about the family bicycling in the rain. When I finished, I exited the car and went into the store to buy some empty calories. Preferably something hotter than the surface of the sun. I paid and then stepped to the side to use the lottery ticket checker. Obviously, I did not win, or this post would be markedly different. The clerk and I exchanged pithy commentary about language. Because that’s what people do, right? This clerk in particular, who I’ll call MacKenzie (because that’s his name), commented about the French language. And then we digressed, as is our custom. I told him that the Marshallese language was one of those interesting languages wherein you could use the same word for “hello” as “goodbye.” And I pronounced it for him: “Yokwe.” He repeated it perfectly but then gave me the look that indicated he thought I MIGHT be pulling his leg. Which is also customary. He’s one of those people whose job definitely doesn’t match his intelligence. As we quickly jumped to another related subject, a customer approached. I saw him obliquely and assumed he was Latino due to the pronounced mustache. Having finished checking my lottery ticket, I said, “Yokwe” to the clerk as a goodbye. The allegedly Latino customer looked quickly at me and repeated the word. “Are you Marshallese?” I asked him as he smiled. He nodded. I told the clerk, “See!? I wasn’t pulling your leg.” We laughed. I went out to my car, and as I turned to get in, I saw that the Marshallese gentleman was at his car and looking in my direction. I waved and got in. Since I was ravenous, I tore the bag open and dumped about half of the fiery contents in my mouth. A car honked behind me, and as I looked in my mirrors, I saw that the Marshallese man was passing behind me and waving again. I’m certain that he was tickled that his language was being used and talked about. The encounter was a surprise of coincidence and rapid-fire wit. And we inadvertently made someone happier because of it.

Love, X
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