| | My new layout idea: The first line will be movies/TV shows/musicals/anything else I want and the second line will be all about books. Lately, and by that I mean within the last two or three days, books have been determining my mood. Whatever the character in the book feels, I feel. It makes me feel pretty weak, to be honest, but it's a good kind of weak. I don't necessarily like being affected by things so easily, but I don't know what I'd do without it.
A simple outing to Trader Joe's - and certain people or actions definitely made me feel like the 50 year old in the book I'm reading now that cries at the messiness of a girl's braids.
I saw an old Asian woman that needed a walker, my height. Accompanying her was a tall African-American woman, helping her with the groceries. I wouldn't mind doing that, helping people do things they can't do themselves anymore for old age or otherwise. It's a selfless thing to do, and since Trader Joe's isn't Costco, I saw them a couple times throughout the grocery shopping period, every time lingering on the old woman's face, twitching and her mouth trying to form words but failing.
I followed my mom to the wine section, pushing the shopping cart behind her. Black, shiny bottles on either side, tens of different labels and years, nothing I really cared about. Instead, I noticed the people in the same aisle. Almost every adult likes alcohol, right? The two other people in the aisle were so drastically different, yet they were buying the same thing. There was a man, bald with a beard, wearing a red sports shirt, the fabric stretching over his bear belly. I couldn't hear him breathing, but I could tell he's one of those heavy breathers that snore so loud the sound goes through the roof. On the other side of the aisle was a Mother, the sporty kind who goes to the gym and puts her two children at daycare while she burns a few hundred calories. She seemed kind of manic to me, a really fierce expression on her face. Maybe this was from the exertion of working out. Her children were adorable; one was in the shopping cart (the kind that has a seat designed for a toddler) and the other was standing behind the cart, staring up at my sister, never breaking the stare. I watched her eyes follow her. What was going through her head? My sister had a paper cup from sampling a drink in her mouth and was holding it there in between her teeth, maybe this is what caused the wondrous look in the girl's eyes. Back to the wine: The actual type they were buying probably had opposite connotations, but there you have it, humanity united by alcohol.
I haven't been playing piano since my lessons stopped. I tried today and almost gave up, my fingers lacking the quickness and agility they possessed not a month before. It really scared me, but after Trader Joe's I tried again and saw great improvement. Still not like it used to be, but at least I could get through some runs. And I found that I really missed making loud, dissonant, accordant, lyrical, emotional music by pressing black and white keys together with all the strength my fingers can muster. I should never let that much time go by without touching the piano again, bad things could happen, have already happened. But this time, I think I saved whatever I was getting close to losing. Of course I played for an altogether high of twenty minutes, it's enough to let me know "I've still got it." I walked away from the piano, satisfied and triumphant.
I do miss writing here. A short while before I moved to emailing myself and journals, I said to myself, "I'm going to keep my xanga forever." I hope I will be returning to more regular posting in the future.
Wow, I'm so rusty that I forgot the only way to insert pictures is by HTML. The picture below is me at my happiest.
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| | Posted 7/20/2009 3:24 PM - 32 Views - 6 eProps - 4 comments
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