Waste not, want more

No variations on a theme.

The Second Person Sin

There are days where the world stops.

And   it    stops    hard.

At least it does for you. Everyone and everything else, generally, marches on. You can almost feel them marching on. And you may keep in step, or look in step. But you’re much, much further away. At a distance that you just can’t recover.

It’s an affront. A powerful aftershock. Don’t they know? Isn’t it written on your face that you will never forget this date? That it is etched into you as few things can be?

(But it’s just another day. There’s humility in that, when it hits.)

On those days, relatively rare, there’s a drop of happiness in the sad. A sense of taking stock. A feeling of truly living. Without the distraction of gossip, advertisements, or fried chicken.  Just you, your thoughts, and those you are most inextricably linked to. If you’re lucky. But even then, lost in yourself, there is great solitude.

That drop of happiness makes it bearable. That tiny hope of better days that can well up from almost nowhere. Somehow, it may just be okay that you will re-enter the world behind. Changed.

They are big, heady days.

July 30, 2012 Posted by | Hypotheticals, Mr. Lonely, Photography, Self-reflection, Writing | , , , , | 6 Comments

Words (and other things resembling words) that warm my cockles: #6

(As a lover of words, phrases, lyrics, plays on words and so on, and someone seeking ways to better celebrate the little things, I’ve decided to develop a series dedicated especially to these linguistic trinkets.)

anemone

This word kills me, but in a good way. In large part because it’s the only word I can think of (outside of crazy technical words, etc) that absolutely baffles me. If someone says anemone, I get it, mostly. But if I have to say the word anemone, like in conversation, I don’t know how. I cannot for the life of me decide between anemone and aneNoMe. To write this blog, I had to google it. I get confused because anemone sounds to me like what I would say if I had a speech impediment, like if I were to say, “He’s an em-e-ny of mine.” Get it? No? It’s just me then. Ok. I know it’s not weird to have a word I screw up all the time, but I’ve always been an accurate pronouncer. My mom tells stories about how correct my speech was from babyhood. (Maybe one day I’ll be blessed with a one-year-old know-it-all. Joy.) So I get all kerfuddled. Which gives me much respect for the anemone. You are simple and beautiful and yet I cannot say your name.

Anenomes (ack, oops) Anemones came to mind for a good reason. The long-suffering semester will be over tomorrow (sort of) and I am heading camping to Salt Spring Island with friends. I can’t wait. Last year we all went there together as well. The beach was covered in creatures to visit – I’m famous for loving my inter-tidal life – and I found camping on the ocean very soothing somehow.

Creeping on sea stars

But I was taught a bad, bad thing. I try to be very cautious and respectful around life, you know the kind, plants, animals, life. I can’t stand spiders but still hate it when someone sees me flailing near a spider and feels the need to heroically kill it for me. Anyway, being unfamiliar with the ocean, I’m generally especially hands-off with ocean creatures. But while camping, my friend and island local taught me that if you stick a finger in a green burrowing anemone, it will close up around you and sort of sting you/suck your finger. With childish guilt, I did my worst and, to my dismay, it was fun (I don’t get out much). Now whenever I see one it is very difficult to keep my fingers to myself. However, on the radio yesterday, my guilt was confirmed, a biologist was talking about the damage that human oils (from touching) can do to sea beings, beings like the green burrowing anemone.

Pretty, no? Click for photo credit.

I also have a good friend that used to love the anemone flower, which is graceful and sweet and comes in tons of colours. Unfortunately, I don’t have my own picture of the flower either.

wholeblossoms.com

Anyway, the point is, anemones are neat-o and I don’t know how to say the word most of the time. To Salt Spring!

UPDATE:

My own anemone photo as evidence of great success in enjoying Salt Spring Island.

Not quite as much colour steroid but you get the idea

August 12, 2010 Posted by | Words that warm | , | 5 Comments