hannah ananas

Love Notes for the World

My mom sent me an e-mail today that reminded me of one of my fun activities in college: my (love) sign.

You see, when I was in high school, I was doing partner dancing. A guy in the dance community in Houston died at some point, and it caused people to reminisce often. I’m not sure if I ever met the guy, because he died shortly after I began going out dancing (as opposed to just dancing at the studio and in classes), but there’s a chance our paths crossed a handful of times. Nonetheless, I have always remembered this guy. My friend’s dad was talking about this guy, and talked about “his signs”. I inquired, and discovered that this guy would carry around signs – I think they were poster boards, actually – with various messages, and would use them when at the club for dance socials. The specific example I remember was how, if two people were really flirting or kissing, he might hold up a sign that read, “Get a room.” As this is by no means a social norm, the idea always stuck with me.

In college, for some reason, this memory arose right at the time my flatmate was in an art class and had extra art paper at home one night. It’s the really thick, soft paper that is similar to poster board, but is used specifically for drawing or painting (or possibly both). So, that night, I had a torn-off section of this art paper, and I decided to make my own sign. On one side, it read, “you should, too”. The other read, “I love you”.

I carried this poster around with me almost everywhere for the remainder of that semester. I think I even had it while I rode my bike (actually, yes, I do remember riding my bike as I held on to it). It was incredibly odd, but completely accepted by my college. I was really nervous about it at first, but very quickly became comfortable with carrying around the sign. I mean, come on… kids do all sorts of odd things in college, so this was just one more in a million odd things we would cross.

Anyway, I loved it. I miss it at times, even. I don’t exactly live the same sort of lifestyle now as I did in college, however, I think I could work out something. The thing my mom sent me was about business cards that read simply “YOU MATTER”. And I think I want to make some more of my own things, but following this fashion of a small card that can be given to others.

When I lived in Vienna, a friend found a stash of the ‘Our Daily Bread’ cards, which is a sort of deck of little cards, where each is shaped like a bread basket and has a bible verse on it (these had German on one side and French on the other). We handed them out to people at the train station late at night, while another friend would do his regular harp serenading for the late-night folks waiting at the station. (Yes, that is a whole other story.)

So, I guess, my point is that I am now planning to combine these three ideas. I don’t know exactly what I’ll put on my cards yet, but I know that I want to do them. I can start this week, and see what comes up, see how I like them, and see what to change for the better.

What I wrote with this one on Facebook, back when I originally posted it:

A girl in the WG found a bunch of little cards with Bible verses on them. One side was in German and the other side was French. I think they were made in Belgium. No one really knows whence they came, but the girl decided to start giving them out to people, specifically in the subway station when David, the harpist, would play late at nights. I am now hooked, and want always to have some on hand, that I can give out to people as food for thought – you never know what people have going on, and thus never know what might make a difference in someone’s life. So don’t let anything stop you from sharing your love and care for others. Rather, find a way to have those things that are holding you back actually Help you to accomplish that which you wish

Post-a-day 2017

The article my mom sent to me today

A word scramble: as though my words were a Japanese tote bag or t-shirt with English writing

Sometimes, the bottomless blue of life’s desperation is a swirling mass of deepened encroachment on one’s territory. The beyond selfless doubt is innumerate by the believers’ paradise of above, unwillingly taken before as a response to the redeemed unbeliever’s unity. How dare we approach such a despair without the embodiment of the soul in tonight’s united way of thinking into being? I know I couldn’t let anything less be of service in this matter of importance for tomorrow’s gain of grains, without gaining the pounds… because what else is a pigment in the imagination of your animals worth, without glory, anyway?

I love it to be lived, and beyond the walls of belief I am… and prestigiously so, indeed. Incongruous, without a doubt.

Post-a-day 2017

A few Japanese t-shirts for reference on style

Is this friends talking?

I found myself wondering the other day about friends, and whether the ease of conversation has a role to play in whether a friendship will develop. I was with someone whom I had previously considered a friend, when I began thinking about it all. We had trouble spending time together easily. That sounds odd, but I mean it. We were fine spending time with one another – there was no specific issue, per se, that arose. It just wasn’t an easy hangout.

You know the friends with whom you never seem to lack a topic for discussion? You can go on and on together, covering who knows what topics, whether you last saw one another years ago or a matter of mere minutes ago. It’s just easy. That’s the easy that I mean. We were okay spending time together, but we weren’t having an easy time-spending together – we were just together.

I even found myself noticing that I was looking forward to being done spending time with the friend. (I suppose that this was the point at which I began truly wondering if we were actual friends, or just acquaintances.) I considered what I had next on the agenda, and noticed how excited I got about spending time with the next person on my schedule. I knew instantly that she and I would never run out of discussion. Sure, we could potentially come up to some quiet times, but they wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and they would be followed soon enough by more excited conversation. This friend is a particularly happy one, so the conversations are usually quite excited, however, the point was not about the exciting conversation, but rather the fact that we never had to search for topics of conversation – it always just flowed. As I considered this, I had the thought that that was what is present in friendships. That ease of conversation is necessarily part of a friendship.

I also noticed, again, that the current friend and I did not have this. It felt as though we didn’t have enough in our lives that was even somewhat on the same path, and so we didn’t have much to discuss. It isn’t even about commonalities so much – a baseball lover and baseball hater could always talk about and argue over baseball – as it is about being aligned somehow. And we really just aren’t aligned. I had already noticed that by how little I related to things this friend would say, and how I often felt almost offended by certain ideas and ways of thinking that this friend expressed and presented. And so I saw that we really are more of acquaintances than friends… and, what’s more, I rather feel as though I don’t much want to become friends. I guess we’ll see how that goes in a few years…

(See, I got all distracted in that, I forgot the second half of this all!)

In contrast to that, I spent time with someone tonight who had been a childhood friend. Though we had bits here and there regarding catching up on things, most of our conversation was not that. It was about all sorts of things. Naturally, I found myself in the middle of it all, specifically remembering my thoughts from the other day about ease and flow of conversation for friends. It took almost no effort to talk. We always had something to discuss. The conversation space felt open and safe. It was just easy.

It was so easy, in fact, I got blisters from walking so much in my sandals. I planned for a 30-minute walk, with a maximum of 45 minutes. Four hours later, and after a call from my mother (I’m living with her currently) to tell me to come home and go to bed, since I have to be up early tomorrow morning, I finally found myself heading home. We walked and talked and sat and talked, and then walked and talked some more before sitting and talking even more. Like I mentioned, it was just easy. And that is how I feel talking with a friend goes. This is not to say that acquaintances can’t have that – we are currently acquaintances, I believe. It is simply that friends do have it.

The people whom I truly love, they and I have that ease every time we are together (be it physically or digitally together).

Post-a-day 2017

Squeaky Clean Time

I really don’t get what it is about showers, but they always get me. Without fail, – at least, I think it is without fail – every time I shower, I end up singing. Even in the middle of the night, as was the case just now, with people sleeping in the next room, there I am, singing.

This is not to say that I am belting a out-of-tune, almost unidentifiable, somewhat annoying tune in the middle of the night (or ever, really). I am certainly an adequate singer for the things I end up singing in the shower, and I also keep them to a reasonably low volume, no matter the time of day or night. But, in the middle of the night, after I catch myself for singing, and am in the middle of going through the reasoning that I need to be as quiet as possible, no matter how loud the shower may seem to me, because any extra sound means extra noise and an increase in the likelihood of disturbing the sleeping folk, I suddenly notice that I am already singing again(!). I’m in the middle of “scolding” myself for the act, and I’ve already started it up again. I’m like a little kid or something. Put me in that shower, and I guess my brain gives up regular function, preferring instead a song-filled youthful path for the time being.

Anyway, I’m just sharing this, because I think it’s silly that I can’t seem to stop myself from singing in the shower, even when I actually want to be quiet (like tonight). I truly love the whole idea of singing in the shower, and I love when people do it. There is just something unique about showering that almost always leads to song, and I find that miraculous and beautiful. So, embrace your singing when you shower. And get some lessons, if you’re concerned that you don’t sing well enough. I know that Incertsinly have done that, and I loved the lessons.

Anyway,… sing away, and stay clean!

Post-a-day 2017

My side of the bed

I sleep in the middle of the bed.

For the past few years, I’ve had a queen or full bed (the size adjective, not as any other adjective). Unless I have a sleep-over, which has become quite the seldom occurrence since college, I sleep right in the middle of my bed. At any hotel, I always end up in the center of the bed, when sleeping alone. Sure, I move to a side and make space when needed, but that is only every so often, and often rarely. I like my space, I guess, and I usually get it.

It all just makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able really to share a bed with a spouse/partner. Even when I want to snuggle up to someone or cuddle, I never seem to last very long before I break away and require my own space.

… Well, I always like just barely touching the person next to me – it is like a verification of the person’s presence, without invading anyone’s space…, like when the dog used to sleep up against me, but not on top of me. That kind of thing. I guess I am okay with sharing a bid after all – I just need a bed big enough to give me plenty of space to spread out, while still being able to make slight contact somewhere near the middle of the bed.

But that all wasn’t the point. The point is that I like sleeping in the middle of the bed, and preferably a large one. I don’t mind sharing too much, but I just don’t understand how people must sleep on a specific side of the bed (the middle is my side), nor when they do it when not in the middle of sharing the bed with another individual. Why waste half the space like that, and crush up into oneself? Oh, well…

Post-a-day 2017

Today’s “ugh”

You know when people seem to ignore the question you ask, and instead answer a different one, one they assume you meant? And you know how you asked that question on purpose, because you wanted an answer to that question, not some other question? Yeah, I kind of want to punch people when they do this to me.

My mom and my best friend are the only ones who have a real shot at guessing whether and where I am going with an idea and questions I am asking about something, and they don’t even get it right all of the time. And they know this, so, if they think I might be leading somewhere specific with my question, they ask if I am doing that, and still answer my question. Other people don’t do that. And it makes me kind of want to punch them for it. Kind of…

Also, I can’t stand when people seem to be incapable of being straight about something. I ask a question, because I am seeking the answer to that question (see aforementioned explanation). Avoiding the answer or making up bull when the true answer is of actual importance is just plane crazy, and yet people like to do it a lot of the time, it seems. Ugh!

Also, when highly educated people misuse basic points of grammar, I have a sort of desire to throw a drink in their faces (the bad-grammar users), and rush away, disgusted. It’s dramatic, sure, but it’s a feeling that shows up somewhat often, nonetheless.

Anyway, I’ll go to sleep, now. I’ve had an annoying time with these few thoughts today (in addition to what felt like a million others), so I guess I just wanted to get them off my chest, in a sense…

Post-a-day 2017

The non-traditional route

Today, someone put words, and therefore solidity and realness, to a thought that has floated nervously in the background of my mind recently. He said that, since I will be piecing together my work, and arranging my schedule to work with whatever work I do, I will be like an entrepreneur for myself (Hannah entrepreneur, he said), organizing things and my schedule out myself, as opposed to having my schedule and expectations already set out for me (as is typically the case with a job).

I liked and still like that idea – I get to design my life and be creative with it, instead of having to accept whatever some job tells me has to be my daily schedule for at least a year.

He also asked me all about things that interest me for my non-normal-job time (which could end up being close to a year, depending on how positions open up places). I almost have a sort of game plan already, just from this one conversation, and I have scheduled to sit down and think through things tomorrow, all with today’s conversation and ideas in mind.

A few of the things that stand out most to me as ‘something I want to do,’ but have never pursued, are becoming trained as a yoga instructor, improving my knowledge of massage therapy, teaching dance (for money), and working/volunteering at least once at The Texas Rennaissance Festival (Renfest for short). I am already added or applied to be added to various substitute lists, and I am on one tutoring list (need to make some decisions on location, and then make calls for that within the next week for more lists). And I need to check up on lacrosse officiating recertification within the next week, too.

These are my present ideas, and they inspire me. 😀 I am excited about my planning tomorrow.

Post-a-day 2017

A man’s bathroom

What’s the deal with guys and hair in the bathroom? Any time I have been in a guy’s bathroom, no matter who he was, his bathroom has had short, little black hairs all over it. Countertop, sink, toilet, even the shower seems to have these little hairs all over it. I used to think it was just facial hair, but I feel like that would end up restricted to the sink area. These things end up all over the bathroom. And it is revolting. I know I have a sore spot for bathrooms in the first place, but come on, guys… Really?

Ugh. It’s just gross… clean up after yourself.

😛

Post-a-day 2017

The end of the day

At the end of each day, I have my alone time. It is not an intentional act of mine, this alone time. It just happens. And I think it is necessary for me as a person… even though it isn’t intentional.

Whenever I am with people overnight somewhere, and we all head off to bed around the same time, everyone is usually surprised the next day to discover that I was awake close to an hour after we had all parted ways. My mom, I think, is accustomed to my going to bed later than she does in the first place, and so she doesn’t really notice it until we travel together. When we’re staying in the same room, she usually complains a good amount, until she finally goes to sleep and lets me finish my bedtime stuff.

Which brings me to my bedtime stuff. I would call it my bedtime ritual, except that it isn’t actually a ritual. And it isn’t exactly a routine either, because the order and timing change around, depending on the night. It’s just what I do before going to sleep. This includes, but is not limited to flossing and brushing my teeth, using the bathroom, washing my face, changing clothes, and reading. Such has been the case for the past few, possibly even several, years. This past year has added to it my showering, cleaning and irrigating my ears, and writing for my weblog (if I haven’t yet done it that day (which is most days)). Sometimes, I stretch after my shower, too, but I usually forget that one.

These things don’t necessarily take all that long under normal circumstances. Ask me to do them all in the middle of the day, and I’ll be finished quite quickly. But having me so they all at night, just before bed, means having them take around an hour, possibly longer. Like I mentioned, this time is my alone time. Perhaps it is a subconscious act, taking so long to do it all, my mind giving me a chance to unwind after whatever the day brought me. Some nights, I am utterly exhausted, and yet I still take around half an hour to get everything finished and actually turn out my light to sleep. Sometimes, I just find myself standing or sitting somewhere around my apartment or room, waiting… I suppose I must be waiting for the unwind to finish, or something to that effect…

Whenever I travel to dance events, there is usually someone already asleep by the time I come in to go to bed, and definitely by the time I am finishing my bedtime stuff. So, I usually find myself sitting on the bathroom floor (or next to a cracked-open bathroom door, if there isn’t really space to sit on the floor in the bathroom) in my pjs and with my hair wet, reading from my two books.

The first book is always the same. I began reading from it daily over three and a half years ago, as part of my desire to read the whole thing. I have kept to my word on it (although there are two or three days where I honestly couldn’t remember the next day if I had done my reading or not, so I read extra to make up for what might have been missed) since I began, and have read at least a little bit every day. I didn’t want to give myself a set amount that would burn me out, so I just said that I had to read something. That could be as little as a sentence. Some nights, it has been. Some nights, it has been pages. Usually, it is a few sentences or a little section within a section. One day, I will finish it. In the meantime, I am learning all sorts of outdated French words as I read through this Bible.

The second book is a different story. It isn’t even a requirement. I began the requirement to read each day several years ago, before the Bible thing began. Back then, I would find myself reading messages on envelopes or greeting cards as I was going to bed, because I needed to read at least a whole sentence in that day as part of my goal to read every day (which, in turn, was part of my goal to read lots and to read often). Now that I have the Bible required for every day, the second book is just for pleasure. For days when I’m at a particularly boring part in the Bible, I wanted to have something else to make the reading exciting and worth doing – extra encouragement, so to speak. So, the only requirement of the second book is that it be something I like reading. Right now, it is Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The last one was Catch 22, and the one before that was a Sophie Kinsella. What exactly it is changes with each new book – just whatever’s next on the list, and also feels right for my nighttime book (gotta have something positive before bed, because those thoughts go with me into sleep). Another rough requirement for my nighttime book (Bible included, actually), is that it be only my nighttime book – I don’t carry it around and read it during the day, too. When I did in the past, I would rush through it so quickly, I’d be without a nighttime book again in only a couple or few days, and the whole purpose would be lost. So I have daytime books now, in addition to my nighttime ones. They’re usually on my Kindle (which is super cool), for easy transport. My nighttime books are always real books, because I don’t really have to haul them around. When I do take a trip, I usually just photograph the pages, if I’m limited on packing space/weight.

Anyway, I made it through the rest of my stuff too quickly tonight, so I had to spend more time on this than I had intended – I’m exhausted! Going to read now (and we’ll see if it happens quickly, because I’m really liking where I am in Zen right now) ad get to sleep as soon as possible! Sweet dreams, world.

Post-a-day 2017

Diving boards and rains

I never appreciated rain so much as when I was a lifeguard. I enjoyed that I was wonderfully trained and fit, both mentally and physically, and I liked the honor of the job, as well as the decent pay and good tan. However, I felt like a bit of a nervous wreck when it came down to it. If there were only a handful of people at a pool, it was all right – it felt like just a normal day at a pool. When there were several people, a party, even, I was okay, actually. The only time I was actually a nervous wreck, now that I really think about it, was when we were waiting for people to show up. When the pool was empty, my imagination worked my anxiety to the roof and beyond. Even before I arrived for a shift, I would be a mess inside, somewhat terrified of what might come at my next shift. I knew I didn’t have near the likelihood of beach lifeguards of having to save someone or having to treat a swimmer with any First Aid skills (or dealing with a shark), but it only comforted so much to know that the chances were merely lower than likely, as opposed to being near zero.

Somehow, I made it through that summer, though. I never did go back to lifeguarding, riding on the excuse that the company for which I had worked had closed, and so all of my credentials and paperwork disappeared with their closing (ignoring the fact that the owners of the company were parents of a friend and schoolmate).

Speaking of that friend and schoolmate, we only really became friends after that summer, but we were in band together before then, and so were loose acquaintances. We had our first one-on-one that summer, lifeguarding. He was all about making money, and so he showed up to lifeguard what seemed like every time somebody had to cancel on a shift. We only worked together once, but I remember it clearly still. Well, I remember most of it clearly, anyway.

No one showed up to swim that day. (This is the part where I’m unclear. There might have been one or two small groups who did show up eventually, but it was only a short while, and somewhere near the middle or end of the day.). It sprinkled some during the day, warding off swimmers. We, however, did do some swimming of our own.
It was during this swimming that Inwas confronted with a fear of mine: diving boards. I really am uncertain as to how the fear developed, but it did somehow. When I was little, I would run and/or jump off of any diving board around, even the long, tall ones at public pools. But by this time, high school, I was terrified of a board that had too much spring. Most public pool diving boards would go down a good couple or even few feet when an adult sprang from them. And my faith in the boards not breaking, as well as the jumpers not slipping, was low. This applied to anyone as the jumper, even myself, and even the most advanced diver. I think I was just panicked that the board would break off, and smack the jumper in the head, knocking out him/her, and resulting in serious injury. I once attempted a cartwheel off a home diving board at the neighbors’ house, and I ended up grabbing on to the end of the board, and falling legs first into the water, scratching my stomach on the board as I held tight to it with my hands (think of jumping out of a pool in reverse, and scratching your stomach on the side as you do it). But that never had anything to do with the spring of the board; that one was rather solid and non-springy. Plus, I kept using boards for years after that specific incident, though I was aware of potential danger from there on out.

Anyway, on that particular day, working together, this fellow lifeguard and school mate convinced me to jump off the diving board. It took me a while, and I was really reasoning with him against doing it, even as I stood atop it, but I eventually did it. I might even have done it multiple times, actually. All I remember about that part was that I finally did jump off, and I was okay about it.

And, I believe, I have been ever since. I still have to go check how much bounce awaits me before I actually do whatever jump I do, but I can do it, and I don’t feel like I am going insane each time.

Post-a-day 2017