The pleasurable nose blow

Think of the last time you blew your nose?  Was it one of those quiet, sneaky-type nose blows, as though you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re blowing your nose?  Or was it one of those really satisfying ones, where it isn’t exactly loud, but it is full?

I almost exclusively do the latter, and it always feels amazing.  As I blew my nose for the third time after eating this Banh Mi (Vietnamese sandwich) with some deliciously and painfully nice jalapeños sliced in it, I began considering the feeling after blowing my nose.  Do you know the one I mean?  In an almost sort of daze, I take my first breath through my freshly freed nose, and possibly share the intake of breath with my mouth, and then almost sigh the air out of me, releasing some unknown tension, somewhere in my body.  I usually end up mostly breathing out of my mouth afterward, and just allow my nose to rest – this light come from the feeling of blowing my nose when it is really stuffed up and runny, and blowing it seems only to clear out one set of mucus and snot in order to make space for the immediate arrival of another.  In those cases, the feeling and experience are almost the same.  It is a hazy happiness of release and deep breathing (usually through the mouth) that feels almost magical.  I almost even have an urge to cyclist my eyes at times, and to indulge momentarily in the after effects of the nose-blowing.

If you have no idea what I am referencing here, give it a try some time.  Blow your nose really satisfyingly hard (the emphasis of really being on satisfyingly, not hard), and take the time to pay attention to the experience immediately following.  If you still don’t get it, then oh, well… I’ll enjoy the experience enough for us both.

And then some…

Post-a-day 2017

Why you gotta be so…?

Why are we ever mean to others?  Really, truly… why?  

Can we go Taylor Swift on the situation, and have the cycle end right now?

I see potential in this, but are we brave enough?  Is bravery even what it is that we need?  Perhaps love is all we need.  And not even in the cheesy way, but truly.  Beatles it all the way, because all we need is love.

Post-a-day 2017

Late-night FaveTime

Chitter chatter, pitter patter

What’s the latest news?

I’ve got the blues, you’ve got new shoes, and Mom is delighted (not) by her latest news.

The cats are cats, packing needs to be done, and there are classes I need to take.

It’s AM here and PM there, and kind of extremely late.

So, I’ll pack my clothes for my European tour, and you can head to sleep, and dream of days that are coming soon, when I’ll be by the pool, and you’ll be there with me, too.
Post-a-day 2017

a little bit of imagining

A bluebird once flew up onto a treehouse and sang.  It was absolutely marvelous.  No people were around to hear the bird’s song.  Perhaps that made the song even sweeter.  But not like cake and cookies sweet; like fresh strawberries sweet – the good and refreshing kind.  Yes, that kind of sweet is the right kind of sweet.  It was wonderfully sweet and quite marvelous, indeed.  The world is grateful for your lovely song, dearest bluebird, whom no person saw no heard on that lovely day of song atop the treehouse.
Post-a-day 2017

Inner Physics

Physics is one of the most intriguing areas of the sciences to me.  One aspect of it that I really love is what I call “inner physics”.  Inner physics to me is the physics that happens internally, often without our notice, but still produces results outside of ourselves.

Hand-Eye coordination is part of what I call inner physics.  At first, we have to work hard when catching and throwing a ball or frisbee – we think and calculate consciously.  After a while, though, it becomes a natural, almost thoughtless process.  It becomes easy and innerly calculated, without the intentional help of our consciousness.  If someone tossed me a ball right now, and I caught it, I could not explain the mental process of calculation for how I had caught the ball.  “I just caught it,” would be me likely reply.  It was like second nature to me.

That in mind, perhaps you can begin to see all the other things I see as inner physics – aka physics calculations we do without being aware of having done them, or having the slightest idea of how to write out the mathematics used for them.  Things like managing to walk a straight line or keep from falling over; carrying something without spilling it; giving high fives, scratching a spot in our own head without blinking the hand into the head; hopping; jumping off of something; properly aligning q-tips to clean our ears; not poking ourselves in the face with our toothbrushes; not spilling water when we bring the glass to our mouths for a drink… those sorts of things.  I find them all fascinating.  Most of them involved such complex physics, that I don’t even know how to write out the equations for the various situations.  And yet our brains are accomplishing these tasks by doing these mathematical equations almost automatically.

The one piece of inner physics that never ceases to amaze me, though, is how on earth we manage to sit down on a toilet seat, especially at night.  We can not see it, we are not touching it, and yet we somehow land gracefully in just the right spot as we sort of fall backward and downward.  Some people struggle to catch a ball that is visible in front of them, yet most everyone can turn ’round and squat perfectly down to a toilet seat.  We are mathematical magicians with that stunt, I swear.

I love inner physics.  I also enjoy when we have a little blip in our inner physics – like hitting our face with the straw or spoon, instead of it going seamlessly between the lips.  I always enjoy that one.  🙂
Post-a-day 2017 

Reading at Night

I’ve been reading Catch 22 as my bedtime book lately, and, while I enjoy the book itself for the story it tells, I happen to enjoy this book for another, rather special (to me) reason.  

You see, I have been reading this book every night for weeks.  And, for some reason, I never know where on Earth I am in the book.  Every time I pick it up to read for the night, I flip through the pages, wondering where I ended last night.  My bookmark is a small and thin one (foil), and so the page never just pops open for me.  And, for whatever reason, I never can say on which page or even around which page I left off.  I’m pretty sure I’m out of the double digits.  I might be in the 200’s.  But I’m really not sure about that.  You see?  Literally almost no idea.  And – perhaps the silliest part – this whole idea comes up every night, where I wonder where on Earth I am in the book, and then why on Earth I still don’t have any idea of where I am in the book.

For some reason, I’m totally okay with it all, though.

For some reason, I really enjoy it.
Post-a-day 2017