The Big Wave.

I remember reading the story The Big Wave, by Pearl S. Buck, when I was in the fourth grade.  Upon hearing the news of the earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan this past Friday, my thoughts, after immediately worrying about my coworkers and the people of Japan, went to the book. 

Essentially, the book is about two boys who are friends, one a mountainside farmer, the other a fisherman.  A tsunami hits the fishing village and wipes away one boy's family, who is then adopted by the farming family and tries to assume a new life with his adopted family.  In the end, when the fishing boy comes of age, he decides to return to the life of a fisherman, against the warning of his mountain-dwelling friend, and poignantly verbalizes the moral of the story: that it is only in the face of danger that one finds bravery and the appreciation of how wonderful life is. 

When I begin to think about people who live in "disaster prone areas," like the Pacific Ring of Fire, or next to volcanoes (et al.), I can't help but think that I wouldn't  be able to handle living in constant fear of something bad happening.  I would worry incessantly (more than I already do, if you can believe it).  I feel like I have a very good grasp on the concept of mortality and the fleeting nature of life, but I can't say that I would ever be able to stand in the face of danger, like these people do on a daily basis, and be ok. 

Regardless, my heart is so, very heavy with all the terrible news coming from Japan, and while my words can offer little solace in their current situation, I can say, undoubtedly, that they are much braver than I will ever be. 

::::::  American Red Cross Support Efforts  ::::::

::::::::::::::::::: The Citizen Effect :::::::::::::::::::

::::::::  Other Earthquake Relief Options  ::::::::

:::::::::  Lady Gaga Japan Relief Bracelet  :::::::::

I have been in the process of compiling a post about candied orange peel, but just can't bear to finish writing about something so frivolous at the moment.  It will come in time, however.

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens...

I feel so ridiculous posting song lyrics as post titles, but I've been so melodramatic lately, that it just seems to fit...

We've had an absolutely obscene amount of snow here in the past few weeks.  It's causing roofs to collapse, the roads aren't being plowed properly, and there's talk of taking away vacation days from kids who've hit the jackpot in snow days.

I don't mind, of course, because I love winter.  I love the snow, the cold, the smell of the air.  I woke up on my birthday, with a fresh coating of pure white, and was in complete heaven.  We haven't had this much snow since I was twelve, and it's making me a bit nostalgic when I look at the plowed snow banks that skyrocketed above my 5'2" height weeks ago.  As a student at UMaine, one of my favorite things was walking to class in the freezing cold with a few feet of snow on the ground.  I don't know what it is, but it just gives me a sense of complete peace and calm, and I feel at ease with myself and my surroundings. I still love being outside first thing in the morning after a snow storm; even the small act of walking to my car puts me instantly in a good mood.  Call me crazy...

My camera has been staring at me for the past few weeks, increasing the amount of guilt I've been feeling for not uploading photos from its memory card, so I wanted to post these pics I took during one of the storms, when I trekked down to the Gore Estate, a historic mansion down the street from our apartment.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and the snow was the type that sticks to everything. I'm still (embarassingly enough) working on figuring out the settings on my camera, so these were edited in Picnik, which I've found to be a lifesaver for fixing my amateur photos. 

 

there's a man...

... that lives in the apartment next to ours.

Well, that was profound, wasn't it?

He lives alone, and is middle-aged (perhaps on the later end of the spectrum). He's the type of man that just makes your heart break a little every time you see him, because he gives you a nod and a shy hello, then walks past you with his head down, so you can almost imagine how painstaking it must be for him to communicate with you. He's a bit gruff, but almost seems gentle. He leaves every morning to go to work, gets home, then leaves again almost every night for a few hours. I've never followed him (that would be creepy), but I always wonder where he could be going...

He seldom has visitors, and is always quiet. He has a lot of plants. I have never heard a vacuum come from his apartment, and I would know, because I can hear the people below us playing Guitar Hero all the time. I never smell freshly cooked food, not even stewed tomatoes, coming from the crack underneath his door. I never see him take out his garbage.

Is he a widower? An ex-con? A bachelor who could never find the excuse or reason to settle down?

I googled him a couple of months ago (not because I'm a stalker, but because I'm curious). He writes music reviews and plays an interesting musical instrument at folk music festivals. He takes pictures of trains. He has (what I would assume to be) a high paying job, yet he lives in the apartment next to ours. We live in an apartment that could be a lot better. It's not luxurious, but it's not a slum.

In his storage compartment in the laundry room (I don't understand why he has one, because we do not... maybe he's collected a lot of frequent flier miles with our landlord?), there's a lawn chair with a woman's name scrawled across the back of it in black marker. Maybe this is why I think he's gentle?

(but maybe it was stolen from his grandmother at the beach one afternoon, while she was dipping her feet in the cold Atlantic)

Because he never says hello to other people in the building, doesn't bring in packages off the stoop, waits in his car for you to walk by so he doesn't have to say hello, and doesn't help people when their cars are stuck in our driveway... he drives around them and goes into his apartment, next to ours...



i'm trying out some new things with this blog... just thoughts on paper (or computer) in the form of words and images... please, bear with me.

some thoughts...

not deep, like those by Jack Handey...

Concrete & Honey directed me to this fabulous blog, she left on a monday, the other day, and in particular, this insightful post that got me to thinking... rare, I know.

I realized that I feel this exact way about a lot of things. I am a loner at heart. Being newly (and happily) married hasn't changed that. My husband is a chef, and while I absolutely adore the time we spend together, I treasure my alone time. Is this horrible of me? I mean, it's not like I cannot wait to get him out of the house so I can lounge around and eat bon bons... that's definitely not the case. I always miss him when he's gone, but I guess what I'm trying to get at, is that I'm not the type of girl who can't spend a minute without her significant other and not know what to do with herself.

Some people I have known seem to feel the need to spend every waking hour with their significant other. While this isn't always a bad thing, I don't think it's necessarily a great thing either. I've also known people who have actually changed themselves in order to fit into the very circumscribed world that belongs to their significant other, while letting go of things that they liked, and liking things that they previously hated. I honestly don't understand this at all. It may just be me, but I find it a little sad. The beauty of relationships is that while yes, it's likely that you'll learn to like new things, which is never bad, staying true to yourself and your interests is important. I don't know if it's ever worth amputating your soul for anyone (I think I may have hijacked this quote from a movie... Oh yes, I did... Scent of a Woman). Which brings me back to my original point...

Typically, I get anxious when I'm around large groups of people. Bars, parties, mosh pits... generally not my scene, unless you want to carry me out because I've inevitably fainted from hyperventilation. It always makes me feel lonely to be out with so many people that I have little in common with. This is why I'd much rather go out to dinner with a few close friends than hit up the bar scene and party like it's 1999. Some people think that it's weird that I'd rather be at home, watching You've Got Mail, or Silence of the Lambs, than out and about with a large group of people, but quite honestly, I'm quite content when I'm by myself, in the [sometimes] quiet solitude of my own thoughts.

I guess that I always knew that I was different than most people, but it makes me feel a little bit better knowing that someone else feels the same way....