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Ubiquitous
Ubiquitous
I’ve had this word in my head for days.
I have no clue when or how it popped into my subconscious – but it obviously felt too crowded in there and made space in the forefront of my brain.
I didn’t know there was any room left, what with all my other tenants: Tangents, imaginary problems, over thought real issues, and daydreams.
But, there it is.
Ubiquitous.
Moved in and unpacking its belongings – wondering if there’s enough space in the dumpster to dispose of the boxes and newspapers it had its fragile things wrapped in. (Probably then it felt a little guilty for considering just tossing its packing debris and not recycling.)
The wind in the desert has been ubiquitous of late.
It’s an icy wind that slaps you in the face, waters your eyes and has you hugging yourself tightly. (I like the hug part. I haven’t had a hug from another human being in a very long time.)
Every time I walk outside my office – I think of that fable about the wind and the sun. Which one could get the man to remove the jacket. The wind boasted it could – and tried first – of course, the man only drew his coat tighter – the sun shone and the man, too warm, removed his jacket.
Every time!
Then I go off on a tangent in my head about the metaphor and think of similar ones . By the time I’m back in my chair I’m focused on being kind – knowing people respond to kind. (Or maybe it would be easier to just turn the central heat up?)
The thing about this wind: the first time I came to this area to visit my parents, I encountered it and I remember thinking, there’s no way I could EVER live in this area.
I knew the wind would drive me bonkers.
You just get relief from temperatures in the 120’s – then you can’t enjoy being outside because the wind is ready to bite at you and push your patio furniture into the pool. (I don’t have a pool but I’ve seen it happen first hand and thought I’d throw that in there … much like the wind does.)
Anyway, I was NEVER going to move here … Yet here I am.
The other thing is – I might be the only one that remembers that the wind happens every single year, because the complaints about the wind are ubiquitous too.
“It’s windy outside!”
“It’s cold out there!”
“That wind has been blowing for three days straight!”
“Wish that wind would lay down!”
“It would be nice if it weren’t so windy!”
This is from people who have been in the area long enough to know that this happens every fucking year.
(I needed to say that. Sometimes I crave the feeling of a shocking word leaving my mouth.)
Anyway, Stop it.
We know.
It’s windy. It was windy last year, and the year before that.
I’m taking an educated guess that next year, ‘round this time … it’s going to be windy.
Hopefully Ubiquitous will have disposed of its packing material responsibly, or there will be packing peanuts in my imaginary pool and tumbleweed boxes smacking up against my tangents.
Imaginary pie
My boss brought quiche in today. (Besides being a loan officer, he’s a restaurateur – which really works to my benefit considering I like to eat.)
My piece didn’t stand a chance – I heated it up and poured my small ramekin of hot sauce on the side of my paper plate and devoured.
A while later, after he’d just eaten his, I went into his office and sat at his desk to discuss a file with him.
Now, I KNEW he had eaten quiche. But, in the split second that I caught a glimpse of his empty paper plate, stained orange from the sauce – topped with his crumpled napkin, my mind saw something completely different.
____________________________
Me: Want to hear how my mind works?
Him: (Audible eye roll)
Me: I KNEW you had quiche – but when I glanced at your plate, what I saw was remnants of pumpkin pie with a mound of whipped cream
Him: You need help
Me: No, I have an imagination
Him: No, you really need help
____________________________
I kept smiling – but inside, I was frowning and I actually allowed myself to wonder for a moment if perhaps I really am a little teeny-tiny bit crazy. (I even asked my best friend – who assured me via email I’m not. Then again, birds of a feather …)
I left clutching the file to my chest and wanting to smuggle his plate out to serve as ‘Exhibit A’.
I would then have been able to show it to other people in the building. I needed confirmation that it wasn’t just me. After all, it was only this week no one could see my snowman’s arm!
Instead of giving more people reason to believe I need help of the mental kind, I have reenacted his plate using mine. (Which isn’t weird at all … okay, it’s totally weird, but it was the lesser of two weirds.)
You can’t tell me this doesn’t look like pumpkin and whipped cream! No? Squint.
Too much
It’s true.
And I’m okay with that.
Thinking too much feeds my imagination, my curiosity, my spirituality – my heart and my soul.
As long as I’m aware it is ‘too much’, and am able to set aside the findings with emotional health and a clearer understanding – it is a positive thing.
I am someone who craves truth.
If a thought occurs to me to which I don’t have an answer – I must find it!
From researching a topic to examining my own feelings.
I love to dig deep and discover.
If I’m not being genuinely me, I am emotionally, physically and mentally in turmoil. Even if I cross a line – ask too much – indulge in brief, unwarranted sadness – I can feel that I’ve at least been true to myself.
Truth I feel is internal – and honesty for me, is external.
I can’t lie.
I used to be able to – which was never a good thing. But in my quest to like myself – improve myself and heal myself – I evolved.
I obey laws and rules – admit when I’ve made mistakes – answer personal questions with complete honesty, (no matter how hard it is to share) – I tell the people I love that I love them, and when I don’t know where I stand – I ask.
It has been a relief to live in an untangled web.
Little pink girl
I struggled with my laundry basket today – it’s bedding day.
I wondered when I waddled in, swaying back and forth from the weight of my laundry, if I really have lost too much weight.
Through the door and to the machine to load money onto the laundromat card.
There was a man behind me – mumbling about keys. I turned and smiled – not sure if he meant to be in line. I could still hear him mumbling while I filled two washing machines. I named him ‘man in the blue t-shirt’ and wondered about his life.
I am constantly curious.
As I looked to my right, from my machines – I noticed a sight that piqued my curiosity even more.
On the floor – was an open, empty suitcase.
Leaning against one of the machines was a small girl holding a blanket close to her and sucking her thumb.
She reminded me of a small deer – or bird. Nervously shifting and ready to take off at the slightest sign of danger.
My heart sighed.
I named her ‘little pink girl’ and my imagination was already writing her story. Why was she so thin and delicate? Were she and her guardian living out of that suitcase somewhere? Were they hiding from someone?
Of course, the very real possibility exists that she is simply on holiday. I do live in a resort area.
But I’m always wondering.
Her guardian came back to her side and was kind. My heart relaxed a little.
Little pink girl made eye contact with me and I smiled.
When I pulled my comforter out of my basket, like an impossibly large handkerchief from a magician’s hat, we shared a smile.
I imagined her thinking it was the color of hard candies.
I wanted to photograph her in that moment … leaning there – cautiously looking at her surroundings with her big, beautiful eyes. Sucking her thumb beside that suitcase.
Some moments can’t be captured.
But they can be shared.
Fantasy Frog
I’m a leaper.
A leaper with an active imagination. A fantasy frog?
When I posted my Happy Birthday to Nicholas a day before his birthday, I shared it on my Facebook wall and a dear friend of mine, Brian, replied to my comment ‘Because I can never wait’ with “that is SO you”. It is. 🙂
I love that I have friends who know me that well, and it got me to thinking. Is that particular facet of mine a good thing?
It is now.
Probably not so much when I was still drinking. LOL
From piercing my nose, tattoos and marriages, I’ve jumped right in, feet first with abandon.
I do have a child like impatience – I can barely contain myself when I’ve found the perfect gift for someone. I still count down an upcoming event in ‘sleeps’. 3 more sleeps, 2 more sleeps, 1 more sleep – you get it.
Then there’s my over active imagination.
A guy makes appreciative eye contact with me and we’ve already broken up by the time he looks away. I’ve flashed through courting, our wedding and I’m fine tuning my break up speech to give the poor unsuspecting cashier/random stranger.
“It just would never have worked out” is probably not an appropriate response to ‘thank you for shopping with us.’
I crack myself up.
I love that I do those things now. I’m not as impulsive. I think things through – ask myself ‘what is the right thing to do here?’
I can’t turn it off though! My mind is ALWAYS running.
Probably this is a good thing for someone who loves to write. I try not to question it anymore – just temper it with common sense.
Oh, and shockingly, I’m writing this at the laundromat – and a Gin Blossoms song has just come on – don’t think for one minute after meeting Robin Wilson last year and getting a hug and a kiss he didn’t fall madly in love with me. I had to let him down easy – in my head. 😉 It just wouldn’t have worked out.
Debauchery Soup 