Late-night calls

For the second night in a row, instead of going to bed when I was feeling like doing so, I ended up on the phone with a good friend of mine in and from Australia.

And, because it was early afternoon for him, he wasn’t in much of any hurry to get off the call…, so we talked for a good while.

However, both times we ended up spending some good, dedicated time to my playing around on the piano, singing songs for him (and for me) to enjoy. It was actually quite funny yesterday, because he was just on his way home from a tough day of work, end of the workweek, and had been thinking about a nap… so, once again, we came very close to his falling asleep while I sang to him. How adorable, right? Haha

Anyway, I love it, and I love this friend. As we discussed tonight, we both really would like for scientists to get their acts together around the world, and figure out this teleportation thing already. 😛 We miss seeing one another (and I don’t just mean because of the current state of affairs, but because of our being all the way around the world from one another$.

By the way, did you know that Australia is approximately 77% the size of the USA? I had absolutely no idea that Australia was that large – not a clue. And I have definitely looked at it on many a map and many a digital map… nonetheless, I was utterly unaware of this fact… approximately 7.6 million km squared to 9.8 million km squared. Crazy, right? But, yet, also not… also, they have a huge dessert in the middle, in which no one lives, so they don’t have as much habitable land, but still… Alaska has a bunch of uninhabitable land, too… hmm… I’ll have to check what the habitable land of each country is, because the population of Australia is ridiculously low for its land size.

Anyway, I’m exhausted… goodnight!

Post-a-day 2020

It’s for you…

Talking with a friend tonight, he mentioned that he is not one for keeping up with others via the telephone.  He said that he felt a worry of it growing awkward at some point, and I’m guessing he meant due to the lack of things to discuss.  I’ve never really thought of myself as someone who’s a very phone-y person, however, I do consider myself good at keeping in touch with people long-distance, when they are interested in remaining in touch.  Out of curiosity, I checked my phone log for the past eight days (I got tired of clicking on each one, so I stopped after eight days.).  I had two conversations of about half an hour (one with this particular friend), one conversation of about 45 minutes, one conversation of about an hour, and two conversations of about an hour and a half.  That’s just in the past eight days.  There were a few conversations between ten and 15 minutes, but most of them were under five minutes in the total phone log for the eight days.  I’ve never thought much about this, but I suddenly wonder if this is not quite normal.

To be fair, one of the people – she had two of the very long conversations – is a friend from college who now lives in Georgia, and another is my brother who lives in Japan.  So, they’re both long-distance folks in my life.  But it wasn’t like we were ‘catching up’ on things.  She and I were just chatting about whatever, keeping on another company while we accomplished other things, and my brother and I were talking mostly about this book I’m reading, and then a little about taxes and insurance, before returning to the book.  We hardly even mentioned anything relating to ‘catching up’ on what’s going on in life for each of us.  I guess we just don’t have difficulty discussing things fluidly, and so we never reach a point of dryness in the conversation.  Or, as in the case of the friend in Georgia, if we aren’t talking for a bit, it’s because we’re focusing on something else, and so we want the pause in the conversation.  It is in no way an awkward silence, but, rather, a welcomed, desired moment for focus to be elsewhere.  Our goal is to hang out together, and so we do just that… miles and miles apart.  (I looked it up.  It’s about 700 miles by plane, 800 by car.)  My best friend and I would Skype like that, just hanging out together as though we were in the same room as one another, even though we were in different countries.  (We don’t right now, because she’s had to hunker down to finish her PhD, and so we couldn’t have our hanging out distract her from the much-needed focus.)

Maybe I’m just super accustomed to long-distance relationships, beginning with my parents’ having divorced and lived across town from one another from the time I was five.

On the other end, I have one of my best friends living in DC.  We learned from the first time I studied abroad that she is not a great long-distance friend.  Even when I would reach out, she wasn’t great at getting back to me on things or at getting herself on the phone in the first place.  Even today, she’ll stay on the phone for a while if she gets the chance, but the chances don’t come often.  And so, we talk little on the phone, but hang out like mad whenever she’s in town (or I surprise her in DC by just showing up to her office one day).  And, when we did live in the same city, we hung out constantly.  We saw one another probably every couple days, and at least once a week.  She’s a spectacular in-person friend.  And I think that balances out the long-distance aspect, because, even though so much has changed and we have changed so much since we were last together, it is always fabulous when we hang out, and it is always still the wonderful bond of friendship, of “us”, when we are together.  (Cheesy, I know, but it’s totally true.)

Anyway, just some thoughts.  Kind of makes you wonder what kind of phone person you are, huh?  (Or maybe not at all, but whatevs.)  😛

Post-a-day 2018

The answering machine commands

Tonight, as my cousin and I had a pause in our music-making, we heard our grandma’s voice on the answering machine, telling us to pick up the phone.  My uncle rushed into the kitchen and picked up the phone, and then spoke with her for a little while, while my cousin and I moved to and sat quietly at the warming fire.

Not one of us had had any idea that the phone was even ringing.  We were simply playing the opening song from Jesus Christ Superstar on the piano (well, my cousin was playing that part), and singing along to it with the odd word discrepancy here and there (It’s amazing how well I can remember the words, despite having not heard it in possibly years.).  With that song, as you must know if you have ever heard it, it is impossible not to sing and play passionately and, well, loudly.  So, it’s no wonder, really, that we hadn’t heard the phone ringing, even though the phone is actually quite loud when it rings…  If you don’t know the song, look it up and listen to it.  Imagine playing and singing that in your living room for some evening time fun.  (Hint: It’s a blast.)  ;D

Post-a-day 2018

The stairs attacked me

I fell on the stairs tonight.  More specifically, I fell up the stairs.

You see, I was carrying up my laundry, for which I had no basket.  There were bunches of socks in the pile, and I had strategically hugged myself to the pile, in order to keep the many socks from falling to the ground.  Unfortunately, as I was stepping up to the top of the stairwell, I found myself suddenly stemmed to the ground with a loud s-smack!

I knew that I was on the ground and that I had somehow tripped, but had almost no brain capacity beyond knowing that.  I realized that I was about to cry terribly, and wanted my mom got help, in case I were injured.  I managed to call my mom with a very calm voice before I broke into an almost hysterical blurriness of tears.

For some reason, I was filled with a warm feeling of something truly special and loving at my mom’s response.  She was on the phone with family, and I heard her say, “Let me call you back in just a few minutes,” immediately after I called her.  There was little panic in my voice, but she had heard the splat.

When she arrived, I was crying on the cat-pee-infused floor, – she ripped up the carpet a while back, but still hasn’t gotten the particle board part replaced – on top of my laundry, half-sprawled on my forearms and knee, with my left leg lifted slightly in the air.  She asked me what had happened, but I couldn’t speak at first, and couldn’t move almost at all for the pain.  She said that she didn’t know how to help me until I could at least show her where I was hurt.  After a good set of seconds, I finally forced myself to sit in my right side, and pull my left leg around for her to see in the narrow landing of the top of the stairs.

She instantly could tell that my knee was swelling already.  I finally could speak a little, and pointed out that my toe was bleeding.  It was slow to begin, but then blood just seemed to be pouring out of it.  By the time I was able to stand myself up, and attempt walking, – it hurt – my sandal was getting covered in bright red.

Half an hour later, I am lying here on my bed, occasionally shivering/shuddering in pain as another throb goes through my toe.  The ice is helpful, but the weight of it seems to make things hurt more (as is so often the case with an ice pack).  I’ve already felt around, and, though it was painful, it seemed like my toe is all in one piece.  But that is not so much the point of my sharing this – that I had a big fall, but I am okay.

You see, it reminded me of this other occasion, when I had a similarly odd experience, and it was here, too, at my mom’s house.

Several years ago, – I think it was in high school – my mom had made some soup for dinner.  The soup was ready in a pot on the stovetop, and she had told me to go serve myself.  I grabbed one of the black ceramic bowls we use, and ladled some soup into it.  The next instant, there was soup and shattered ceramic all over the place around me.  It covered the floor.  I was still holding the ladle, I think, even, but the bowl was gone, in pieces on the floor.
I was paralyzed with shock and fright.  I couldn’t immediately comprehend how things had happened, but I knew that the bowl I had been holding was now all over the floor, and that it was dangerous to move.  I likely was barefoot or in sandals, making it that much more dangerous to move.  I couldn’t comprehend the full situation, and that was an additional scary factor to the shattered ceramic around me.

I began to cry.  My mom was already walking over to me from the living room.  She told me that it was okay, and she held me while I cried and said that I didn’t know what had happened.

She cleaned up everything, and then brought me soup on the sofa, where I had settled physically to help me settle emotionally.  And she wasn’t even the slightest bit upset or annoyed at any of it.  She was just there for me, and she took care of me.  She loved and cared for me, with no contingencies.  I felt like a five-year-old in what I had done and how I had responded, and was initially almost ashamed that I was actually around 17.  But my mom didn’t seem even to consider that.  Age wasn’t on her mind, even.  I needed help, and she gave it.  I needed love and care, and she provided.  And without hesitation.

Tonight was the same.  Usually, her phone calls are not cut short, but she tells the person to ‘hang on just a second’ or just whispers a, ‘What?(!)’ to me as she holds the receiver away from her face a bit.  In tonight’s situation, even though it turned out to be my grandma on the phone, my mom instantly responded to my need, ending the phone call immediately – she didn’t even wait for my grandma to finish what she was in the middle of saying at the time -, and coming to help me.  Again, I had made what felt like a childish error, and again did she seem not to care less about that fact.  I was in need, and she took care of me, without hesitation.  

That experience of love is one of the most beautiful ones I have ever known.  Talk about being ashamed or at one’s worst, and being loved anyway…

Post-a-day 2017