Simple Pleasures

Let's face it. Sometimes I can't wait until Saturday night to call up my few single remaining girlfriends, doll ourselves up, and go out for a crazy night of adventure! Who doesn't? However, there are those rare Saturdays where you don't want to do anything, and it turns out you do a whole lot of it and it is more amazing than the inevitable aftermath of a night out with the girls (ie. sore feet from dancing in fancy heels).

This Saturday was just that for me. My aforementioned single girlfriends are out of town, and it's a nice rainy day. I woke up and read, then, I watched some US Open.
Later, my mother prepared a delicious "carne con papas" including a new ingredient: carrots! What a hit! For her and me. My father not a fan. Then I went and listened to my ipod on shuffle, how great! All the songs where lazy Saturday kind of songs, not too new, not too fast, not to going out-sy. Great vibe. Took a nap, woke up set the dishwasher, and sat down to write a little about how happy, calm, and relaxed I am. Turned the ipod back on, my mom has joined me on the couch. She's reading a book, I'm writing, jamming, and enjoying the simplicity of it all.

I have to admit other times this scenario might drive me up the wall. Sometimes I rather be out and CAN'T and that creates a fowl mood. But when the CHOICE is to stay in; it's a whole different scene.

Sometimes on nights like these, I like to go out on my balcony barefoot and rock myself gently on the ratty chairs my parents have out there. I listen to the sounds of life as it passes by or I watch it through the soundtrack of my ipod. I feel that when things are shitty, if I take a moment to let silence simmer, it sets a different tone in me and things usually get better.

Also, I sometimes can't decide what I like better, the sound of music or complete silence. I love sitting in the dark in my living room completely quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the air-conditioner. But music paints such a pretty picture.

I love music. I love how there's so much of it, I love how diverse. I love how it transcends time. I listen to the music my parents heard as kids, the music American boys and girls heard BEFORE my parent's time, I listen to what I liked growing up and music I get introduced to now. It's ineffable! Throw a couple Disney soundtracks and whoo! I'm transported. My mother gets upset because I seem to go elsewhere being right in her presence.

Maybe tomorrow this laid-back mood will continue. It might and maybe I'll kick it up a bit by singing. A passion of mine as people who paint pull out easels on Sunday morning and are inspired by a sunrise, or a writer types up a short story or essay. I wish I didn't have crippling stage fright, I may have pursued a career in it. I guess someday it might change, I don't want to get all American Idol on you suddenly. Until then, I'll continue to receive the kind words from those who have had the rare chance to listen to me regail them with my voice. I always like to think that the fairies who gave Princess Aurora her 3 gifts also gave me the gift of song!

Who knows- maybe you could be the next to hear me and tell me what you think!
Since that's unlikely for now, I guess I'll just keep singing in the closet. Literally. It's so refreshing, exhilerating and liberating. That will be my to-do list for tomorrow. "Listen to music and sing."

What could be a better rainy weekend?

Tonight

In lieu of an evening tainted by inclement weather, I cleaned my room, and in turn cleansed my soul. Nice, huh? It's not exactly what happened but I did rediscover old souvenirs and put a piece to the puzzle that is ME, in place.

My father is a carpenter. He makes a living working with his hands, he's supported his family his whole life, and this back-breaking work is this man's hobby. I find the same is true for me. My hobby is reading and writing and the art of languages (not just English) and teaching it, which is heart-breaking work at times, is a hobby.

As I am in my room tonight, I was merely looking for the second cordless phone that disappeared once we finished the refurbishment and moved to this house. I said I would call someone and my telephone had no service. I decided to look for this in the one place I knew it would not be- under my bed. My father very lovingly made that bed so I would not sleep in my closet as I had been since we had moved. Unfortunately, he's not a bed carpenter. The bed is made of white-painted plywood, is low to the ground, and has 4 drawers (filled with papers I have kept over the years and will attempt to go through another day), with a lid of sorts where my mattress sleeps. I am terrible at literal description so I hope you're following me here. Under the part where I lay my head is nothing but a giant gap, and in that void (before I had shelves), I stowed all my books and that's where I intended to search for the phone.

Did I know I wouldn't find it? Yes. Did I remember everything I would see? No. Sure I remembered there are a lot of dictionaries, grammar books, and a couple of books I could not bring myself to sell back to the university, but I completely forgot that this is where I stored 2 shoe boxes containing memorabilia from what seems like a previous life.

I pushed away the lid (imagine if you will, Indiana Jones) and there was my treasure. Wow! I love books, I found two editions of Charlotte's Web, The Complete Works of Christopher Marlowe, The Anthology of British Literature, The History of French Literature (in French), among many, many others. Some books are for pleasure and some just to make me feel smart. Instantly, my mood changed. Instead of thinking about all the things I have to do or the things I didn't do, or have yet to do, all I could think of is making time for myself to read the books I haven't read. It's so amazing what love of literature can do for a person; instant comfort.

Then, I look at the boxes. Two innocuous boxes sitting there. I pried one open, inside: my graduation tassels, my prom frame (empty- I have no photographic documentation of the evening) and a photo album. Lo and behold, Backstreet Boys concert pictures. BAM! Instant transportation to my freshman year of high school, but I didn't care for these pictures, I keep flipping, and there are pictures of me at the beach with some friends and a brief stint I did as  a blue-eyed girl... I looked nice, but it wasn't me.

Continue on to the next box. MOTHERLOAD. JACKPOT. Whatever you want to call it. Here I found 3 albums and 1 diary. My super un-Cuban "quinces," my high school pictures at the ceremony before graduation, at graduation, and  other random pictures spanning the ages 13-18. At 26, I feel reasonably young, but taking a look at these pictures made me feel so much older. I don't know, I can see innocence on the very face that is mine; such vulnerability; carefreeness.

Then the diary. I teach language arts, and if I had to be graded on this sucker, I would give me a low C. I read it and I felt like I didn't speak English. The grammar, the spelling, the conventions- all the things I look for now, atrocious! But there was some merit, some of my vocabulary was very advanced. Given it was my FIRST diary ever, and I had it from 6th grade (around the time I moved back from New Jersey to Miami) until 8th grade.

But it wasn't the writing errors that threw me for a loop. It was the content. I wrote silly things, Anne Frank-like things, and boy, was I a NERD! (Still am, but I like to think I have toned it DOWN!) I had forgotten I got a boy suspended for 3 days for spanking me on the rear during PE. Geez! Another entry was how insightful I was about who was my "true friend" and who was acting. I think I documented the time I actually acquired the skill to choose who would be good for me to have in my life and who was not! Incredible. 

It also shows how much I love my family. I wrote a lot about my younger brother and how close we were and all the games we played together. I'd jump in a volcano for that guy.

But most of all, I saw how those things shaped who I am today. It's crazy how life passes by and everything little thing makes one who they are. I know I am ever-changing because of simple things like a photograph and a diary. 

Isn't it crazy? It definitely blows my mind. It's very bittersweet.

I highly suggest taking a trip down memory lane. I have most indubitably become a better writer, a more worrisome person, a more cynical viewer of the world, a more melancholy person, one who pines, and so many other things. I don't know if I am a better PERSON, but I am different.

I would like to find that carefree girl, that nerd, that adaptable girl and keep her present instead of buried under my pillow and a wooden lid. I think it might give me a different perspective- a different outlook on things. I didn't lose the person I was, I just left her behind.

I did realize, good or bad, I love my life. When it's good it's breath-taking and when it's bad it's paralyzing, but only long enough for introspection and with realization comes wisdom to know how to look for good in crappy situations. It doesn't always come in a moment, but for me, I was able to see a piece of it tonight.

Forgive me for being all over the place, but I feel the way I am writing. Thoughts just keep surfacing and surging in my mind and if I don't get them written, I might lose them, and that would be a waste of a perfectly pensive evening.

Goodnight all.