Agèd

I must be old. I can not describe how… necessary it feels to be home now, after being away for two nights. My space, my things, my clean, my joys and comforts… I haven’t even gotten homes for all of my stuff yet – more than half of it still seems to be sitting in odd spots around the room, or just totally out somewhere. (Actually, it’s more like a third of it doesn’t have an official spot in which it can live yet, and a big part of that is the oil spill I’m still working on cleaning up behind my bed’s head, in front of and on a main storage shelf for my room. Once that finally stops soaking up into the fresh spreads of baking soda that I keep laying and vacuuming up, we should be in really good condition with finishing the tidying for everything.) And yet this place feels right. This is the place where I sleep, surrounded by all of this stuff, and in this bed with these sheets and blankets and all, and these fairy lights and twinkle lights on the walls.

And I am powerfully grateful for it all.

P.S. Not to mention, I go to bed already between 8:30pm and 9pm, and wake up between 4am and 6am (if I “sleep in”)…

Post-a-day 2021

^I swear, I almost put 2022… ::facepalm

Not even thirty… and yet

Man, is it way past the bedtime I wanted for tonight. It is about to be ten pm.

And how ridiculous does that sound? Haha I have learned that my body likes getting up early; it also, however, likes going to bed early. It still can stay up quite late, and rather effectively so. However, it really, really likes to shower and get into pjs around 7pm, give or take a bit, and do my stretches and reading and writing by around 8pm, so I can turn off the lights and go to bed at 9pm. Is that not ridiculous?

Indeed, it is ridiculous. But it is what’s so, so I’m rolling with it!

At that, goodnight, folks! 😉

Post-a-day 2021

^Got it, with only a touch of hesitation!

Fantasyland Visas and Green Cards

Do you ever find yourself fantasizing about something, and realize that you do not necessarily want that actual something to happen, but that you are really just enjoying the fantasy in and of itself – in a way, you are fantasizing for the sake of fantasizing, and that is completely satisfying for you?

You see, I met these young guys recently, and one in particular has stuck out to me. He is adorable in many ways. He is also very likely several years younger than I am. And I’m not so sure he knows that. At the most, he might think I’m a year or two older than he is. I have a feeling that I am several more years older than that age difference.

That being said, I have nonetheless been very much enjoying the idea of some sort of relationship developing between the two of us, in a dating/partnership capacity. It took quite a while for me to develop an understanding of my own age prejudices, and to clear them up for myself. However, where I stand now, I have no personal qualms with great age differences in either direction for a couple. (I have almost always been completely okay with friendship age differences, as I have always had friends who are very different ages than I am, both older and younger.) And so, I find myself wondering and imagining how it might be to pursue one of those traditionally odd age differences with this guy. And, I am not having this imagination adventure simply for the age aspect – he is also adorable, remember.

Usually, when I find someone cute, it is in a rather disinterested, ‘I don’t actually see a future for us, and I won’t worry about it,’ kind of way. And whenever I think someone is cute, I won’t think almost anything more than that. If I do, those thoughts won’t last beyond a day or a few. With this guy, however, these thoughts have lasted a couple weeks now. And this is surprising to me. I don’t see myself as truly interested in him. He’s just that casual situation of ‘What an adorable guy.’ But that is why I am beginning to believe that this whole imagination adventure is just for the sake of having an adventure in my life right now, and in an area of my life where I have not really had much adventure before.

So, rather than be carried away with this mental adventure, and falsely believe that it is something I really want, just because I’m having fun with it in my head, I am letting myself do just that: have fun with it. I am enjoying it. I am clear it is not something I want actively to pursue, and so I will not be pursuing it. If it were something I truly wanted, I would pursue it. But all it is is some thing fun inside my head, and so I will have fun with it inside my head. And, I think, knowing that it is only something in my head somehow makes it all the more ridiculous and, therefore, fun to enjoy.

Just my thoughts on the matter tonight. 😉 Kind of ridiculous, right? 😂

Sweet dreams, folks! You know line will be! 😀

Post-a-day 2020

Old folks and celebrations

Today was the 67th anniversary of my maternal grandparents (Grandma and Opa), and the 90th birthday of Grandma. And yes, she got married on her birthday.

We celebrated with a small family event, which included a brief surprise Zoom call from almost all the grandkids (and great-grandchildren), who were spread around the country (the ones out of country called in earlier in the morning). It was a real delight, and on many levels.

Considering being married to someone for 67 years is one of those incomparable things that I just cannot seem to fathom. Yes, I certainly understand it conceptually. However, I haven’t done anything for 67 years – not even life – so I cannot grasp such a length of time. And I also am not married to anyone, so neither can I grasp that fully (or at all). Sure, they have struggles and problems beyond just their physical and mental limitations brought on by their aging bodies and minds. Being with anyone almost all day almost every day for even a few weeks can be rough. I cannot imagine doing that for almost thirty years straight (that’s how long ago my Opa retired).

They have also managed various medical concerns and issues that have added significant amounts of stress for them, either directly for themselves and their own health or second-hand from another family member’s health here and there. And yet here they are, ninety years old, still walking around and driving themselves places and carrying on genuine and real conversations and taking care of themselves at home on a daily basis. At times, this frightens me – old age and people in it often have. I nonetheless am honored to be a selected part of their lives, and am grateful for the opportunity to have them in my life and for so long. They are extremely loving people who have taught me much in life, and who continue to love me and to teach me, and in many ways. I love them dearly.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.

And Happy Anniversary, Grandma and Opa.

😉

Post-a-day 2020

Aging & Aching

Perhaps I am officially old…-er.

I sat on my bed for all my tutoring this morning, which was four hours. Sure, I got up here and there, went downstairs to use the bathroom or grab some food a few times, and even gave myself a pillow backrest for the last hour plus, so I didn’t have to make my back increase any further its steadily building discomfort.

All of that I did, and yet, here I am, late at night, struggling to walk up and down any stairs, or even walk at all, because my knee is hurting. Yes, it is the one from the fall – both last year and last month – but it does not quite seem in the right spot of that knee to be related to those falls. I believe, as this is not the first time this has happened, it is due to the fact that I sat with my legs crossed for so long this morning (“sitting Indian style” is the phrase we were taught as kids). Now, my upper part of my knee is aching.

I can hardly imagine this ever happening to a young kid. So, I think this officially classified me as not a kid anymore, all numbers and looks and energy levels aside. I’m kind of old now, aging into the post-prime days and years and decades…

Whatever the case, of course, let us just hope that I awaken tomorrow having practically forgotten this pain, because my knee is fully recovered and healed. 😉

Fingers crossed!! 🙂

Post-a-day 2020

Kid talk

Talking with a little boy at a small birthday party yesterday, while he played in an inflatable water slide thing and I took photos of the little cousins for their parents – he being one of those cousins – I was reminded of the fun that can come of simply having little kids around. His little brother told me that he, the little brother, is two. Then, the older of the two tells me that, yeah, he is two and I am four. Oh, I see. He’s two and you’re four.

“Yeah, but I’ll be five soon.”

“Oh, really. You’ll be five soon,” I say in the question-like statement I tend to give little kids oh, so often.

“Yeah.”

“When will you be five?”

“Oh,” he almost sighs, giving a little pause before saying, “after a couple a years,” and he nods knowingly.

I nodded with him in understanding… a couple years really does make up a long time. Half a lifetime, it even could feel… but I didn’t say so… I didn’t trust myself not to hurt his feelings… I swear, I barely kept it together and didn’t laugh right in front of this child in uncontrolled fits. 😂 My entire insides were shaking with a desire to burst forth in laughter.

Fortunately, I was able to tell me mom about it afterward, and we got to laugh really hard together over it. 😛 Clearly, the kid got the phrase from his parents or some other adults, and just applied it without any idea of its actual meaning, but knowing that it was used for something that wasn’t going to happen quite yet. 😂

It was beautiful.

Post-a-day 2020

The past in the present

I recently came across this bit of journal-esque writing I did several years ago, and, since I found myself reading almost addictively, and I happened also to find it a bit hilarious to see how young I came across – which makes me wonder if I actually sound much older now, six years later – I figured it would be fun to share here, to see now how I wrote in the past… the past at present, so to speak. 😛

Therefore, happy reading. 🙂

……….

Mon 4 March, 2013

Today I am sitting on the couch. That is not to say or to suggest that this, sitting on the couch, is such an out of the ordinary activity – though it has been the case that for the previous seven months leading up to this week have left me without a couch on which I even could set myself. It is simply to state that today, I am sitting on the couch. I am not really doingmuch of anything else. Unless of course you would like to believe that breathing, watching a film, listening to music, eating food, digesting, drinking drink, and the occasional conversing with one’s stepfather are considered “doing something”. In that case, I’m doing quite a lot today, and am being very productive. However, in my head at least, that is not the case, and I am not up to much today. I am simply sitting on the sofa (Oh, look: I’ve used the word “sofa” this time. Such creativity is at work in me today!). I think it’s because I’m avoiding doing anything else. Perhaps I would feel guilty if I put my efforts to something else other than that which my mother wishes for me to do…. or, for that matter, other than what my father and stepfather wish me to do. That is organize out things in the house and get a job that pays well. They would likely say that they just want me to get a job, almost any job. Just a job that pays is their goal. However, if I were to get a job that pays, but the job is not very fancy and does not pay very much, they would very much be dissatisfied. For example, if I began work with the trash pick-up in the neighborhood, they would not be so proud as to say they were glad for the job. They would see it as an as-short-as-possible-term job for me, waiting for me to get ‘a real job’. What if I profess myself as a long-term devotee to trash pick-up, and that I see it as the first step in making a change in the world? That I must absolutely do this job so that I can understand people better in order to change their way of thinking. That by starting at the base, by discovering what they see to be trash, I can then begin to alter what they see as valuable. What if I do that? Well, I don’t know, but it ultimately does not matter, because I know that is not what I am going to do. Although there might be some value to that idea. I seem to be good at that: pulling some jargon out of nowhere in attempt to prove some point that I don’t fully believe, and then find myself with a quite amazingly powerful argument. I guess it’s one of the talents God has given me. I think it came out of my mental expansion, or whatever one would like to call it. I’ve spent a good deal of time – though time is completely relative, and I have only been physically around in this body for a short time in comparison to the world and, of course, to other people who have been around for “ages,” as women in their forties and fifties and sometimes even thirties an dupper twenties like to say. As I was saying, I’ve spent a good deal of time studying people, and a bit their cultures. I even did it semi-officially for a while in high school and college. More in college than in high school, though I think that fact is somewhat irrelevant. Anywho – that’s a word I’ve come to enjoy in my lifetime, though I’m not actually sure it’s technically a word. But what do technicalities matter anyway when we’re dealing with full self-expression? Anywho, I’ve studied people throughout my life by simple observation and conversation. And interaction, of course. I have spent my whole life sitting on the sidelines, just watching people pass by, taking notes in my little notebook full of comments of opinion about the world around me, completely missing my own participation in it. No, no. I have been quite the participant in life. I just have paid attention while doing so.

My clock on this computer shows that it is currently 20.29. It is somewhere that proclaimed time (speaking of proclaimed time, my computer will tell me in just a moment that it is 20.30). However, that is not technically the time here (oh, look: a technicality). The time here is actually, well now, 13.30. I mentioned that I hadn’t had the availability of a sofa for the previous seven months. That is true. I was living in Wien in a shared room, with two closets, two beds, two desks, two night stands, and a set of shelves comprising the furnishings, and a slightly musky odor filling the air-tight room when my co-habiter was around. Now, the point of sharing this just now is unknown to me. However, I will use the opportunity to make a connection to my studies of people. I was in Wien to learn German. So I said and thought, anyway. I learned much about the peoples living there, as well as much about myself. I also very much developed myself, and was, for the first time in my life, able to proclaim honestly and whole-heartedly that I was exactly the person I wanted to be. Rather, that I was being the person I wanted to be. I still am that person. And that’s great, actually. The trouble comes in, however, at the point where I’m not entirely sure what to do with that person, now. So I’ve done my cultural study in Wien, I’ve learned a good deal of German, I’ve met and visited the family of mine who lives in Germany (and has for hundreds of years), and I have returned to Houston, Texas, where I technically lived before embarking on this last European adventure. I did want to avoid returning, and even began to set up things so that I could succeed in avoiding the return. At least for a while. But the fact that I am here right now shows that I did not do that. I said to myself that to avoid something means to leave something incomplete in your life. After I said that, I realized that I needed to return to Houston. I didn’t actually need to see or talk to any specific people in Houston. I just needed to return to Houston. Because by not returning to Houston, by avoiding the return, I was avoiding what came with the return. And that’s the next step of my life. I’ve always had something sturdy on which I could rely for my immediate and somewhat near future. Until now. And by not returning to Houston, I could avoid dealing with that, with my lack of suredness, with my fear. I would be hiding a fear inside of me. And hiding things really just doesn’t work. No matter how much we try to do it, we cannot succeed in keeping something hidden. Not completely. We ultimately reveal all that is hidden within us, wheter verbally or not. I think it is part of our nature as humans. We’re just plain blabber mouths with everything. If our mouths don’t give it away, our emotions and reactions most certainly do.

A friend once sent me something that said “Only trust people who like big butts. They can not lie.” It still makes me smile, although that friend seems to be in a dissapeared mode right now. He’ll come around. Hopefully it will be before he dies. That would be quite a disappointment for me, and even for others, as he has a lot of potential to make an amazingly large difference for a great number of people in this world, as well as for the natural side of this world. His impact will likely still be large if he doesn’t alter his current way of being, though it will be quite limited and likely very disappointing in comparison to the one he could make with a simple reappearing act. We’ll see. Well, someone will see, at least. I don’t know that you and I will see the future of his situation, or even that I will see it.

So, I said I was not doing much today. I changed my mind. After watching that movie, I was inspired. I still am inspired, and by that film. I changed my footwear and went outside to play some volleyball and to pursue my desire to learn to skateboard. I think we can pursue all of our desired activities, though there is only one time in our lives where we will actually succeed with them. I tried playing guitar several times as I was younger, but never went past a few chords in the best attempt to become a guitar player. In the last year, I have actually taken my own steps, extra steps, to learn to play the guitar. I don’t play much, but I learn to play songs that I like, and I oftentimes become a great deal of ease and release when I play, rather than the struggle that comes to a beginner of a foreign task, as it once was for me. After years of attempts at guitar-playing and even more occasions of stopping the attempt, I finally can play guitar. I’m not amazing like different performers or people who play ‘just for fun’, but I can play and I enjoy playing, and that’s always been the point of my learning to play guitar. The point of this: I’ve finally fulfilled this desire that I’ve attempted several times in my life to fulfill. And the point of that point: We won’t reach certain things until the time is right. The time was finally right for me to learn to play guitar, so it actually worked for me this time – my head was in the right place at long last. This skateboarding thing is similar. I’ve wanted to skateboard as far back as I remember my brothers starting to skateboard. Every attempt has left me unsuccessful, still scared, and oftentimes hurt. I’ve thought for months on this, though, and I think my hesitation, cause by my fear, has been a major factor in my getting hurt. Today, I was not only putting myself out there confidently on the skateboard, but I was almost not even present to a fear. Once I let go of my hesitation, and look at the logistics of the activity (that it required that one just keep balance and GO), it becomes something completely different. It becomes somethign do-able. Yes, it takes practice. But I am capable of it. I find that really cool. Uh-oh. That last sentence might be giving away my age (as though my writing in general in no way does that already). Okay, as I sit here typing, taking the occasional sip from this bottle of Organic Raw Kombucha juice, … I don’t actually have an end to that sentence. I just wanted to say what I was drinking, I think. My aunt is actually making her own Kombucha juice right now. My cousin, her son, apparently taught her how to do it. I believe it takes several days, if not weeks, to make the juice. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. It tastes like it’s been sitting somewhere for weeks before it was bottled and kept in a cooler. It always does, Kombucha juice.

Let’s go back to the part about my age. I was reading a book recently where it was mentioned that adults, grown up people, are nearly obsessed with numbers. Numbers like how old one is or how long one has done something or how far away one is from something or what time one will arrive or how much something costs and the likes. That wasn’t exactly what the book said. It’s what I’ve specifically noticed as being significant to adults since my reading that. I’ve also noticed how I tend to do that. I’ve been working on stopping that. It’s been gonig quite successfully, actually. I do it less and less, and I notice almost every time when I am considering asking a number question, and I opt often not to ask it, as I see the lack of any importance in hearing the answer to the question, thus losing my point of asking the question. But to apphease the adult in me as well as the adult in you, I shall give you at least a few numbers. Seven, twenty-two, three and a half, a few thousand, and eleven hundred.

Okay, elaboration. I’ve just returned from seven months abroad, becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be. Just a few days ago, I became officially twenty-two years old. I completed college in three and a half years. I currently have a few thousand dollars of school loans to repay (I think). And I expect that finding a job that gives me at least eleven hundred dollars a month will be enough for me to live sucessfully on my own for a while until I find something else to do with myself. Oh, and my name means “Grace” in its language of origin. To me it just means “me”, though that’s sometimes scary, as in the times when someone says it with annoyance or frustration, suggesting I’ve done something upsetting and now have to work hard to make things good again. I think to most people, it’s just a name, though. Hannah is it. Hannah banana to certain individuals. I enjoy when people call me Hannah banana. Probably because it shows a specific enhanced degree of love when they say it, when they decide or choose to use it.

Well, I’m going to go back outdoors. I’ve had a good break here writing. Now I’m to continue my goals of improving my volleyball (re-enhancing it, actually, after several years of not playing almost at all) and skateboarding performances. I’ll write again, and likely soon. I guess my sitting on the couch today has altered. Perhaps it’s like addiction problems and other problems. Admitting that one has a problem is the first step to solving the problem. My problem was sitting the day long on the couch. I feel it to be utterly too underproductive for my capabilities. So, once I admitted that fully, I was able to rid myself of the problem. Cool.

13 März 2013

Heute haben wir einen neuen Papst. Francisco. Er ist ein Jesuiten. Sehr cool.

—–

I’ve decided I want to write a book. Not a book like everyone else. But a book in present tense. Yes, in present tense the whole way through. I tell a story with the book, but it hasn’t actually happened until the reader reads it. So to speak. 🙂 Well, that’s my idea, anyway.

………..

P.S. The programming is likely to destroy my double spaces after periods, so, please, kindly ignore that change, and assume the appropriate spacing after each period… yes, I’ve shared all about my opinion on the spacing here… ugh!

Post-a-day 2019

My longest year so far

Thus ends the longest year of my life.  🙂

In my twentieth year of life, right at the end of it, I spent some time living and studying in France.  My birthday came and went while living there, effectively making my twentieth year of life shorter than any previous year – think birthday to birthday – by a full seven hours.  By the end of my twenty-first year, I had already spent several months living in the USA again, thereby making my twenty-first year seven hours longer – birthday to birthday – than the average year so far in my life (and 14 hours longer than my shortest year of life, which had been the year before it).

Last year, I found myself living half of my year (birthday to birthday year) in Japan.  Therefore, when my birthday came around in 2017, I completed my shortest year of life, its being a full 15 hours shorter than the usual (and eight hours shorter than my shortest year to that point).  Therefore, as I reach my birthday at midnight tonight, living again in the USA, I will be completing the longest year of my life – birthday to birthday, of course – with a full 15 hours more than usual (and 30 hours longer than my shortest year).

Cool, huh?

 

P.S.  Yes, of course I am excluding leap days, because they ruin the fun, and they don’t even make any sense in the first place.  A year is all about the Earth’s revolution around our sun, and a leap day is just a way to make up for the fact that it takes 365.25 (I think it’s actually 365.242189 to be exact) days to go ’round our sun, not just 365.  So, I’m just counting the approximate .25 with every year, instead of adding a whole extra day every fourth year.  Even if I did include leap days, then every leap day would cause the longest year of my life to be that year (and each of those would be equal to one another).  However, the shortest years of my life (still talking birthday to birthday) would remain the same, as they did not contain leap days.  To anyone with a birthday on February 29th – I mean you no injustice or discredit.

Post-a-day 2018