Steinbeck on Love

I’m a lot better today than I was just recently. John Steinbeck had some letters on love that will help me get through things.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good….
If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.
I needed that, Mr. Steinbeck. Thank you.
—Art

On Waiting

Is there a way to get through waiting? Is there any way to take a lime (waiting) and make limeade (???)?

I’m sure most readers out there have hated waiting for something. Maybe you’re waiting on an important call. Maybe you’re waiting on something to come back in stock. Maybe you’re waiting for the bus. You’re waiting. You feel like you’ll always be waiting.

That’s how I am feeling these days. Anticipation is making me queasy.

I find it difficult to shift my focus from the thing that’s most important to me. Even when I write down everything I can to get the important topic off my mind, if there’s something I’m waiting for, I can never really get it off my mind. My mind wants to be the tracker of this thing for which I’m waiting. My mind is like an eager child before a gift-giving holiday in this case. “Is it here yet?! Are we there yet?! When do I get to open these?!”

“Patience is a virtue,” they say. Do I pretend to be virtuous and say that waiting doesn’t bother me? Do I risk sounding immature to everyone as an adult who can’t wait for the bus?

“We used to wait,” says Arcade Fire. Sorry, Arcade Fire. I have been writing letters longhand recently, for whatever that’s worth.

It doesn’t help the situation that my plane to a connecting flight with a layover has not taken off for three hours after it said it would, and children on the flight are yelping to keep from getting bored. Maybe I should join them.

Esperando, not Esperanto,
Art

Insomnia Log 1

I am awake enough at odd hours (odd being 01:00, 03:00, 05:00) that I’m going to start chronicling my thoughts at these times. You may or may not like it.

I used to eat Kashi Heart to Heart cereal every morning with vanilla yogurt. In those days, I sometimes ate that breakfast with the strongest (muscularly) woman I’ve ever met and heard Beyoncé’s Single Ladies over the speakers. I’m eating it right now without any yogurt because yogurt gives me milk tummy these days. We all know milk tummy is a nice placeholder for what really happens.

I remember watching Beast Wars when I was a kid, but I don’t remember liking it very much. It just happened to be on in the mornings. These days, I’d rather sit in silence than watch TV I don’t like, but as a kid, silence was scary. I’m bringing this up because my roommate put on the old Transformers TV show. Transformers’ animation was not fluid, to put it nicely.

I think my old roommates like me more now that I don’t live with them. That’s strange, but acceptable. I saw them at a bar tonight, and they were friendly, even laughing at what I had to say. Maybe it’s easier to get along with people when you know you don’t have to wake up to them.

The dryer is running. It sounds like an ineffective Coinstar machine, or like pennies and golf balls going down a drainpipe, plinking and ticking and tumbling. Clothes are going to come out damp.

I’m going to take a shower soon and put on new clothes as if I had just woken up, but I will have just painted over a tired day with the smell of fresh deodorant. In times like these, I always think, “Eh, I can sleep on the plane.”

I took apart a laptop computer for work. That’s the easy part. Now how do I put it back together?

Aw, man, my coffee is going to get cold. Cold coffee is just dirty water.

Au revoir.

—Art

I am a Tralfamadorian

(Art by Angels-Advocate http://angels-advocate.deviantart.com/art/Tralfamadorian-79299598)

Facebook lays out events linearly in time, most recent on top, oldest on bottom. I don’t see it that way. Some of the best discussions happen when you dig up old photos and scribblings and say something about them. Besides that, time doesn’t look like a line to me. “Timeline.” Pfft. More like timefield.