Overall, the weekend was decent, despite a slow start on Friday evening, in which I pretty much crashed on the couch. I made my stepmom a birthday present and continued setting up my new laptop... and by setting up, I mean surfing the internet at rapid speed and giggling uncontrollably because I now have a backspace key. (I haven't had a backspace key in four years, so you can imagine the pleasure I get from this. I sent IMs to myself, deleting, typing, and re-deleting the text. This was fun, though wore off after about 10 minutes.)
I actually wrote a bit on Saturday while I was at the pool. My friend, Jeff, had emailed me a poem for my review (just like old times), and I guess his inspiration inspired me. I pictured him sitting at his desk at work, sipping on some coffee while reading the morning news online. He sees the hidden beauty in one of the seemingly morbid news stories, and works it into poetry. From the image of my friend's sudden inspiration, I came up with this (it's not much, but it felt good to write something other than the Pre-Opening Procedures for Monorail Operations):
I wait for the thirsty crowd to disperse
before approaching the counter.
Soon I am ordering an overpriced latte
thinking about further splurging,
on a muffin or that blueberry scone.
I feel the caffeine pulling me together.
Today I will tell the truth.
But for now I think about
what it must have been like
before coffee shops like this existed.
Like I said, it's not much, but I get satisfaction from the simplicity of the words... and the ease that these verses came to me. I haven't experienced that in a long time. When you live in a cubicle, writing technical documents 8+ hours a day... coming home and sitting in front of Microsoft Word just doesn't appeal to me. It was funny, though. Taking my notebook and pen with me to the pool, removing myself from technology, even just for a few hours... I felt that old creative flow within me. I know it's still there; I might just have to put in some extra effort to dig it out.
Saturday night I tagged along with Jolyon to two different parties. Two very different parties.
The first party was Mardi-Gras themed. And the homeowner, James, had some very creative decor. I admired the blacklights. I have a thing for blacklights. I did some of my best writing by blacklight... as well as some other activities in high school.
(We had blacklights at the Halloween party that I co-hosted this past year. Clearly, James decided that the three for $1.00 Walmart Special wasn't classy enough for his party. I'm betting his blacklights didn't start smoking after five minutes, either...)
I didn't know anyone at the Mardi Gras party... and the crowd was slightly older than I would typically feel comfortable hanging around. It was a good time, though. I met the president of the Toastmaster's Club. Provided I didn't say anything overly incriminating, I might go to the next meeting as a guest, where I can sit back and watch others squirm during public speaking, but not actually having to do it myself.
The second party was a little more my speed. Jackie, a very sweet aquaintance from an opposing volleyball team, had a surprise party for one of her roommates. (I love her apartment. I think her roommate's bathroom is larger than my living room.) While I didn't participate, I enjoyed watching a bunch of them play Flip Cup and Beirut. Reminded me of college, which reminded me of my Creative Writing degree and how I'm not using it. That's when I asked Jackie what she had for drinks.
"There's some stuff in that cooler," she yelled from across the room. "I don't know what it is, but it's really good!"
In college, I learned that you should always ask for specifics before pouring yourself a mixed drink from a water cooler.
I didn't ask.
After just one cup, I was feeling friendly enough to socialize with everyone at the party. And, if I remember correctly, I did.
I met a high school soccer coach, who needs someone to train his goalkeepers. He said something about paying me to taking a coaching clinic, despite my soccer background. And something about a professional soccer team-- the Orlando Falcons, perhaps? I started drinking a little slower just then, figuring I should attempt to network in a semi-sober state. Jolyon and I recruited our fourth player for a 4v4 volleyball team, too. Because with softball, my 6v6 volleyball team, kickboxing, and work... I clearly needed yet another sports team.
The night ended around 115am, with a board game that I found under the coffee table. Some sort of card game based off of Truth or Dare. In retrospect, not the best game to play amongst perfect strangers.
Last night, Luke and I hosted a Superbowl Party. Despite the upsetting final score, I think everyone had a decent time... and about 7 lbs of chicken wings total. The scent of cooked chicken still lingers in my living room, which is pretty gross, especially since I don't eat that stuff anymore. I managed to accommodate 17 people in my apartment. No major spillage, either. Brian brought some special catnip for Callie and Socks... and they were buzzing all night. I had never seen Socks' eyes so wide before. That was probably the highlight of the night for me, since I hate football.
....
Just stopped to scribble down some thoughts in my other journal:
Sitting in silence
studying, but not each other.
Too scared to speak
in syllables.
Sliding in different directions
staring at
an unchanging map,
in a skimmed-over textbook
without purpose
without meaning
with no shared compass
to lead us
home
.......
Until next time.....
~*~
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