The rain in Spain

Stays mainly in the plains.

But, in Cebu, it pours everywhere, and with all it’s got, albeit only in approximate 5- to 20-minute increments.

The wind grows cool, and the temperature feels like it drops almost ten degrees Celsius, and it seems like the impending rain will last forever, until, when you turn your back for a moment, it suddenly starts pouring, and you turn back ’round and notice the rain…, then it clears up within two minutes, the clouds part and clear away, and the sun shines with all its glory once again, as the temperature pops back up that same ten degrees again to a warm – oh, so warm – 29-35Β°C.

As I write this, just that has happened.

The air was cool and windy, the sky was dark, but no rain had started.

I turned my attention here, and then, as I looked back up after a few minutes of writing, I saw the rain falling all around.

It is not quite finished yet, but the sky is already brightening… it will not be much longer before the sky is clear of this rain once again.

P.S. There are far too many flies for me to be comfortable here (in addition to all the other huge dislikes), but I am rolling with it and hanging in there.

Post-a-day 2019

β€œIn my room….”*

It is 3:48am right now, and I am only just going to bed.

But – and this is a big but (but not a big butt) – I am going to bed in my bed.

I spent the last few hours cleaning up and clearing out everything from the fly miniature disaster the then week, and everything seems to be I good shape up here in my room.

So, exhausted as all else, but relieved, I am going to sleep in my own room and in my own bed tonight.

Yahoo!

Wahe Guru!

*Beach Boys song reference

Post-a-day 2019

Nasty creatures and decay

Well, they exploded all over again today – by the time I went up after lunch, there were about forty of the disgusting things up in my room, doing their odd version of mixing and mingling with one another.

I still didn’t cry, but I definitely felt the panic within me.

However, I acted as was necessary to move things forward with clearing them out of there, hanging several flypaper ribbons around the room, covering my clothes with blankets, and getting the **** out of there myself.

I prepared myself mentally for the possibility of not sleeping in there tonight, as they were kind of all over, and, though I wasn’t seeming to be freaking out at the time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle staying in the room without cleaning it… and I knew that they might not all be gone yet, too.

This was a fortunate mental preparation, as I am currently sitting on a pallet on the floor of the yoga room, getting ready to go to sleep, feeling oddly exposed out in the open, likely to be found by the first teacher tomorrow morning.

Nonetheless, I am rolling with it… this is what I can afford right now, and this is the neighborhood in which I want to be living right now, so this is where I live… sucks and all…

Anyway… sweet dreams and restful sleep unto us all tonight. πŸ˜‰

Post-a-day 2019

And so, color

My mom sent me this link this morning, and, having just watched the video, I am utterly inspired, and not for the first time by him, but more so than ever.

I needed color

Super ❀ to this man and what he has given and continues to give to the world – ΓΌber inspiration for me on the daily

I think I might quote him soon from this video, if not to others, at least to myself…

I want to share my art with the world, but that means I need to go ahead and create it already… πŸ˜›

So, as I have been considering lately, let us go ahead and plan it out into my schedule to have the allotted time for it.

P.S. Some days, we finish work at 11am and ask to skip practice after school, so we can just go home and eat and then go to bed before 5pm… and, occasionally, we have to have a tiny mental breakdown when a huge fly shows up above our bed as we climb into it to read just before going to sleep, and then, as we go to do something about it, the fly flies into us… twice…, and we can’t help but panic and cry and remember the last time something extremely similar happened, and beg the world to have this just be an odd, single fly on its lonesome, while we call Mom on speakerphone to tell her that we are tired and know that and so need to be told what to do…. and, finally, after having hung up a fly paper strip, checked the attic doors (and found nothing [phew!]), and rewashed our hands and hair, relieved, we can finally go to bed, still before 5pm, for some much-needed sleep…. though, hopefully, that it just a one-time thing from today… that would be a sort of dreadful regular thing to have happen…

Post-a-day 2019

A mouthful

I tend to sing when I’m in a good mood.

Not always, but regularly and somewhat often, if I am in a good mood, one can find me (by sneaking up, typically, or else I’ll quiet down somas not to bother others) singing and humming songs as I go about my day and night.

This includes when I am in transit between locations, my singing habit.

However, seeing as how I typically drive a Vespa most of the time now, it has been a funny transition to not singing while driving.

Why is that, you ask, that I must not sing while driving?

Well, even though I am in a good mood just about every time I get on that scooter, and so start singing a good amount of the time, of I were to continue singing once going, I would end up not so happy, due to a mouthful of bugs.

Yes, an open mouth with no windshield while driving is almost always a bad idea.

And so, unfortunately, whenever this thought occurs to me when I am singing as I start out on my bike, it makes me smile really big, making it hard to keep my lips together, which makes me smile and laugh even more, and then makes it even harder not to have a huge and toothy grin showing… it is a tiny but important battle I have with my lips in these situations, and it is utterly hilarious.

In short, singing in my bike would result in a mouthful of bugs, so singing is not really allowed while going faster than about fifteen miles per hour. πŸ˜›

P.S. I have discovered two things from my highway travels to work each morning.

First, heading in the opposite direction of rush-hour traffic on this highway apparently does not have “Going the speed limit” on its list of approved activities – it seems that ten to fifteen over the posted speed is more the norm for people, while the opposite direction chugs along at around thirty in its morning traffic.

Secondly, my neighborhood smells like amazing fresh breads in the early mornings on weekdays, and like sizzling bacon on Saturday early mornings… I’m not sure yet about Sundays, though… πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

Ick!! Aah!! Run away!!

An unspeakable creature, one of monster descent, that I utterly dislike and, even, ever so slightly fear, and which is utterly disgusting appeared in a lower room just now…
I captured it in a cleaned out cottage cheese tub with a yogurt tub lid, both of which I quickly found in the kitchen cabinets of the shared section of the kitchen.

I set it all outside the back door, and quickly stepped away, leaving it to the wolves (so to speak, anyway, since we don’t exactly have wolves living freely around here).

Now, I am diffusing peppermint oil in my room like no other, because we need to keep my room, especially, clean and free for me – only I, Hannah, live here right now… you get that, World?

Okay, good.

Anyway, hopefully the person in charge of managing this sort of thing will act first thing tomorrow morning, after seeing my message tonight… I want this handled, you know?

πŸ˜›

Ugh… eew.

They just freak me out.

Uuhhhhh… ::shudders subtly yet somewhat violently::

Post-a-day 2019

Borrowed(?) Memories

Some of my most beloved memories aren’t actually my own memories.

How my cousins would marry multiple friends at their school’s spring fling – marrying was one of the booths at the event, and so you could pay a dollar and be spring fling married to as many people as dollars you wanted to pay…

How my mom came across my brothers, aged about four years and one year, in a room with “MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL” written a few feet off the ground, all over the walls… A—- could barely hold onto a marker, let alone stand tall enough to reach the words, as well as being able to write letters, and yet Michael says honestly to my mom, “A—- did it.”

When that same brother, aged maybe a year more, was angry at my mom at home, and declared in a huffy huff, “Well, you’re a…. you’re a damn!” and then stormed out, while my mom did her best not to explode in front of him with laughter.

And, once more, when that brother was a little younger, and he was with my mom at the store, and he began throwing a fit about not being allowed to have a toy of some sort, and my mom told him to hang on, and she asked the lady a few feet away from them, “Excuse me, ma’am, is he loud enough? Can you hear him okay?”… and my brother shut up really quickly…

One of the best memories is from a video in which A—- receives a birthday present, when aged around four or five years, that is inside a massive cardboard box in the garage… Michael stands within view, his back to the camera, awesome bicycle shorts on full display, and then picks a massive wedgie… a few moments later, A—- walks inside the cardboard box, disappearing from view, and everyone suddenly hears, in a little boy’s imperfect pronunciation, “Batman bike!!!”

He then appears, walking out of the box, pushing an awesome little Batman bicycle with training wheels (and all the boys are instantly envious).

These are a few of my favorite memories…, and yet none of them even had me present, and most were before I was even born.

They aren’t exactly my memories…

That someone how doesn’t change the the fact that I love them dearly, nor that I share them regularly with people.

I still find it somewhat weird, nonetheless, because, again, they aren’t even my own experiences that I’m remembering – just the stories of the experiences… perhaps that is how things are when people love events from history, you know?

The great wars or movements or, even, fashions or movies…. they are, in a way, borrowed memories…

Hmm…

P.S. A big bug hit me in the face on the way home today, and it hurt. πŸ˜› haha

Post-a-day 2019