pillow pals

I wanted to snuggle with the cat tonight.  Instead, he is running back and forth through the rooms, playing with the curtains, and I might have to put him in the other room, so he doesn’t destroy the curtains once I fall asleep…  oh, well… I guess it’s meant to be.

Or something like that, anyway…

Post-a-day 2018


Cousin Talk

Our conversation just now:

“I went and put cold water on it – I just leaned over and stuck it under the shower real quickly and stood back up, but then the water rolled down my back and went into my underwear… but oh, well… Anyway, I put cold water on it, and it almost instantly started getting better.  There are parts of it that are already back to normal color..”

“Wow.  That’s just… crazy that it did that,” he laughs quietly.

“Yeah, the vibrations irritate it and make it react, I think.  Like I said, I think I’ve had it happen before with some other massage thing or something, so I’m not worried…  But it’s getting better, so…”  and I shrug.

I continue after a few moments of observation of his resumed task, “What are you doing?”

I repeat.

Concentrating on making a fold that doesn’t want to fold, he replies, “I… uh… I’m… making a sheath.”

“Out of paper?  See if Allison has some leather you can use for it… Wait.  You have leather.  Make a real one out of leather.”

“I don’t have any that’s sturdy enough.”

“Oh,” I sigh.  “Okay.”


That’s how all people’s 2:30 in the morning looks, right?  😛

Post-a-day 2018


Bedtime perfection

Tonight, sitting in a chair that traditionally belongs in an office, at a desk, and not in a living room with a blanket on it, I paused in my book reading to focus on the music that surrounded me.  My cousin was playing at the piano.  He had gone through many pieces throughout the evening, and even in his current sitting.  I had last paid close attention when he switched to “Für Elise” – not that I have anything against it, but I’ve heard it so many times, that I don’t often enjoy focusing on it anymore… plus, I was sitting in this same room as this same cousin learned to play this piece over a decade ago; I wasn’t in a mood to listen to him figure it out all over again.

But the current piece, now it was something different.  It struck me as perfection in the moment.  I was in a dimmed room, wearing my pajamas, reading while sitting in a comfortable chair, listening to perfect, full, live piano music.  It was as though I were in a novel of Jane Austen’s, or something quite similar (only we don’t marry our first cousins these days, and I think they did back then…).

Once I had paused to take note of the piece, I couldn’t go back to my book; I had to sit and enjoy the piece fully.  It was perfection in a scenario and in the music for that sort of moment.  I felt filled with the understanding that anything is possible in my life, and comfortable with all that had happened in my day, as though this were a perfect completion and letting go of it all.

And then, I couldn’t help but document it somehow – this is how I want my life to be.  This is the bedtime scenario I want more than once in a blue moon.  Man, where are you?  Or, at least, housemate, where are you?  Come to me soon, please, and stay with me.  I want this in my regular life.  God, ready me as I need to be ready to have this in my (at least) weekly life, please.

Tonight was magic turned reality, and I loved it.  I hope to dream this just-created, extended piano version of “La la lu” tonight.

The Brief Documentation

Music is magic, when used properly.  Remember that.

Post-a-day 2018


Dancing and talking

Some nights, you just have an amazing time, in an unexpected way, and find yourself getting to bed after 6 a.m., with a human knot and long conversation having been the perfect end to the dance event.

Post-a-day 2018


Nighttime Window

I open my window at night… late, late at night, when I am awakened to heat by the sounds of someone climbing the stairs to go to bed in the middle of the night, though I never know it at the time, and neither does the stair-climber.  My room is hot, too hot for comfort, especially in the middle of winter, even though it is Houston.  I crawl to the edge and climb out of my bed, down to my shoes, and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my suddenly compressed bladder.  When I return, the heat hits me like a physical wall of warm fabric floating just inside my doorway.  I stumble back to my bed, letting my shoes fall as I climb into it.  I sit for a moment, considering…  The lights are off, so it is all right.

I lean forward on my hands and knees, and I slide open the large window a few inches, before sitting back and relaxing, waiting for the cool air to stream firmly into my room.  I always consider going to sleep with the window left open.  I always close it after only a minute or few, so that I may go back to sleep, at ease.  I want the cooling air, but nothing else is welcome.  In Houston, many a thing might aim to make itself welcome through an open window at night.  And I really don’t want to wake to a rat diving between a stack of boxes.  I want to keep this room clean, please.  And so, I shut the window every time, even though I’m never quite cooled off enough for good rest.  Each night, I silently wish for a screen for the window, while disregarding the wish, because I wasn’t to see the world clearly through the window, whether closed or open, just free of screening… so it cannot be.

So, I open my window at night, out of practical reasons, but silently wish to experience the magic I feel is waiting just outside, waiting in that cool, crisp, winter wonder air.

Post-a-day 2017


Writing, math in life…

I’ve been on the phone with my college flatmate tonight, talking about writing.  Apparently, I actually do have some fun and crazy ideas that would be really interesting for people to read – she didn’t even understand how I got to the sorts of ideas that regularly come to mind, simply as the normal order of thinking in my head.  So, I guess that’s not so normal as I’d thought it to be, having such ideas so casually and regularly.

The thing is, I haven’t set up sitting down to do it.  Not yet, anyway, and not for long enough.  I’ve noticed that writing at night is not the way to go for me.  For other things, sure – I can do loads of physical movement at night.  For writing, however, I’m next to hopeless, it feels.  I don’t feel much like writing anything in the first place at night, and so I struggle to find something to write, and then I make loads of errors in what I do finally write.  It just isn’t a good combination.

Speaking of combinations, I was talking with students in my geometry class today about how math can be useful in life in cool ways.  One example was from a show my stepdad watches about the TV show “The Walking Dead”.  It’s sort of a behind-the-scenes sort of show, and this particular bit that I saw was talking about everything they had to do in order to set up a car crash.  It was really cool, seeing everything broken down, all of the things they had to organize to make it work.  The best part, perhaps, was seeing how it was pure geometry and physics that made the crash work flawlessly.

The other example was in a little photo shoot I was witnessing (and had to abandon for distress), in which the photographer said that they were supposed to be sitting in a Christmas tree formation.  But she didn’t do anything to make this happen.  She didn’t even seem to know what needed to be done for this shape to happen.  (The people in charge definitely seemed to be lacking in general crowd control and effective instructions arenas, too.)  It occurred to me that she never considered just getting the number of people – I’d have done it ahead of time, but on the sport would have worked just finely, too – expected in the photo, and dividing them up into the necessary number of people per row, based on the exact shape desired and the number of rows available.  I was about to begin the calculations as I watched, but then realized that no one was going to listen to me anyway, so it was better if I just left the stressful situation, since that was the only thing I actually could do in the situation.  So, I left.  But it proved to be a good example to the kids in class at how math is present in life in ways that people don’t even consider.  Had the photographer thought about math, – and it is likely that she didn’t, because she wasn’t very confident in or in love with math while in school – the whole photo shoot could have gone loads better than it did.  And they could have had the Christmas tree, and even decorated with “lights” or an outline, using the different shirt and jacket colors present and available.  But she didn’t, so none of that happened.


Post-a-day 2017



I miss my bed in Japan. My bedroom, especially, is one thing I miss most these days. It was a haven for me. No matter what kind of chaos or boredom lurked in my life, every night, my bedroom awaited me in calm, open, and empty space… in beauty. I shut my doors, and was safe in my retreat from everything else. Only love and blessings were ever allowed into my bedroom. I wasn’t even allowed to walk in it if I hadn’t recently showered. Clean clothes, my ukulele and ukulele music, my nighttime books, and water and tissues were just about all that ever went in there, aside from a clean me and my bed.

My bedroom now is slightly larger, but filled with boxes and stuff… a sentimentality to which I am not so sure I still want to cling. I think I am afraid that I will forget the memories, if I get rid of the objects. I do not, for the most part, want the objects, but the memories and the ways I felt. Without the objects, what will remind me?

Post-a-day 2017