The mountain will not do
what the river does.
The river cannot,
what the mountain can.
And while the mountain can
poison the river,
The river is what gives
the mountain life.
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A random poem, written in the spur of the moment thought while walking in the woods.
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Befriending Irony
I always forget an umbrella when it rains. Every time. If it is a sunny, beautiful day, my umbrella weighs down my bag, laughing at me with Irony. Then, when it does rain, it happens to be the day I decide: carrying around a heavy umbrella is futile. Oh Irony, how you must take pleasure in my life.
One day last summer, I was waiting at the trolley stop. I was wearing a nice dress and was going into town to meet with some friends. The sun shone, the work day had gone by quickly, it was a Friday and the day could not seem to get any better. I boarded the trolley and was off for an adventure with my friends. The trolley went underground; I transferred to the subway (the much less glamorous form of public transit) and continued on my way.
Finally getting off the hot, crowded train, I took to the stairs anxious to be welcomed back into the sunlight. I knocked myself for ever reflecting on how wonderful and sunny the day was… I should have known that it was only a matter of time before Irony felt the need to check up on me.
Sheets of rain poured down from the sky. Buckets in the clouds seemed to just overflow and dump out onto me. I did not want to take that first step out into the street. I saw businessmen sprinting with their briefcases over their heads, people trying to use a newspaper as shelter. I had a purse… with no umbrella in it.
People pushed by me from the subway exit as I debated whether or not I should ditch my friends, go home and apologize later. Just as I was turning around to reenter the subway, a man accidentally bumped me, pushing me out from underneath my shelter: instantly drenched. So much for decision making, clearly Irony had already made plans for me. I felt like I was being manipulated into going on a date, and just could not say no.
I walked down streets, water dripping off my nose, muttering to myself and ranting about my hatred for Irony and Irony’s love for me.
I arrived at the coffee shop, where my friends said to meet. Maybe I was early. The shop was slowly filling up as college students got out of their summer classes. I shook my head at myself, thinking about all the people walking by looking at me right now: drenched and sipping on my tea…alone. I let 14 minutes pass before I looked at my phone to see 3 texts all saying the same thing:
As I sat there, I realized that I had not been sitting by myself at all. Irony was sipping on a latte beside me with a big grin slapped on his face.
Well played Irony, well played.
One day last summer, I was waiting at the trolley stop. I was wearing a nice dress and was going into town to meet with some friends. The sun shone, the work day had gone by quickly, it was a Friday and the day could not seem to get any better. I boarded the trolley and was off for an adventure with my friends. The trolley went underground; I transferred to the subway (the much less glamorous form of public transit) and continued on my way.
Finally getting off the hot, crowded train, I took to the stairs anxious to be welcomed back into the sunlight. I knocked myself for ever reflecting on how wonderful and sunny the day was… I should have known that it was only a matter of time before Irony felt the need to check up on me.
Sheets of rain poured down from the sky. Buckets in the clouds seemed to just overflow and dump out onto me. I did not want to take that first step out into the street. I saw businessmen sprinting with their briefcases over their heads, people trying to use a newspaper as shelter. I had a purse… with no umbrella in it.
People pushed by me from the subway exit as I debated whether or not I should ditch my friends, go home and apologize later. Just as I was turning around to reenter the subway, a man accidentally bumped me, pushing me out from underneath my shelter: instantly drenched. So much for decision making, clearly Irony had already made plans for me. I felt like I was being manipulated into going on a date, and just could not say no.
I walked down streets, water dripping off my nose, muttering to myself and ranting about my hatred for Irony and Irony’s love for me.
I arrived at the coffee shop, where my friends said to meet. Maybe I was early. The shop was slowly filling up as college students got out of their summer classes. I shook my head at myself, thinking about all the people walking by looking at me right now: drenched and sipping on my tea…alone. I let 14 minutes pass before I looked at my phone to see 3 texts all saying the same thing:
“Weather’s bad, we’ll reschedule.”
As I sat there, I realized that I had not been sitting by myself at all. Irony was sipping on a latte beside me with a big grin slapped on his face.
Well played Irony, well played.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
On the CONTRAry
Eight seconds. That’s how long he has to make an impression. Promenade; hands link, he leads her. 1, 2, 3, 4… he can smell her hair as he twirls her into the position for the next call, 5, 6, 7, 8, and he hands her off as the ladies chain. She smiles as she swings, 2, 3, 4, locking eyes with her partner. Jealousy clouds his eyes as he easily moves to the rhythm of the fiddle, 5, 6, 7, 8.
She is taken for the rest of the night, he’s sure: partners lined up one right after another. He lost his chance. Circle to the left, 3, 4, 5, 6. His eight seconds to win her over were not enough. Though he was quick on his feet dancing, making conversation was a little different, 7, 8. Allemande right, 4, 5.
He searches the dance hall for a partner as the caller announces the next song,. Futile, his eyes can only focus on her, 6, 7, 8. The music begins, he has a chance in the line to dance with her, but it is only a moment, only eight seconds until she’s gone again.
Their eyes meet as partners balance and swing, 5, 6. Her face is flushed from the exercise, blushed from the movement, 7, 8. She smiles, 6, 7 and turns to circle left breaking the eye contact, 8. The music ends, he thanks his partner, claps for the band and goes to find a new partner, hiding the disappointment as he sees her accept the hand of her next suitor. And the music starts, 7, 8… and the music ends. There is a break before the last dance. He goes to the punch bowl. She is there.
“Are you not going to dance the final contra?” He asked, surprised she was not still being fought over.
“On the Contrary,” 1, 2, 3, 4, “I was just waiting for you to ask.” And they danced, 5, 6, 7, 8.
I absolutely love Contra Dancing. My friend introduced me to it in March of 2011. It is a great way to meet new people, dance (even if you are a terrible dancer!), and have fun. I won't say I haven't met my fair share of awkward dances, neighbors, partners, because I definatley have (even in just a year), but at the end of the dance, I usually agree with myself that it was worth it.
If you want to find a dance in your area go Here. And if you want to learn some dance moves before you go (although you usually don't have to) search them on Youtube, or check out this worksheet.
If you're in the Boston Area, might I recommend BIDA?
She is taken for the rest of the night, he’s sure: partners lined up one right after another. He lost his chance. Circle to the left, 3, 4, 5, 6. His eight seconds to win her over were not enough. Though he was quick on his feet dancing, making conversation was a little different, 7, 8. Allemande right, 4, 5.
He searches the dance hall for a partner as the caller announces the next song,. Futile, his eyes can only focus on her, 6, 7, 8. The music begins, he has a chance in the line to dance with her, but it is only a moment, only eight seconds until she’s gone again.
Their eyes meet as partners balance and swing, 5, 6. Her face is flushed from the exercise, blushed from the movement, 7, 8. She smiles, 6, 7 and turns to circle left breaking the eye contact, 8. The music ends, he thanks his partner, claps for the band and goes to find a new partner, hiding the disappointment as he sees her accept the hand of her next suitor. And the music starts, 7, 8… and the music ends. There is a break before the last dance. He goes to the punch bowl. She is there.
“Are you not going to dance the final contra?” He asked, surprised she was not still being fought over.
“On the Contrary,” 1, 2, 3, 4, “I was just waiting for you to ask.” And they danced, 5, 6, 7, 8.
---------------------------------------
I absolutely love Contra Dancing. My friend introduced me to it in March of 2011. It is a great way to meet new people, dance (even if you are a terrible dancer!), and have fun. I won't say I haven't met my fair share of awkward dances, neighbors, partners, because I definatley have (even in just a year), but at the end of the dance, I usually agree with myself that it was worth it.
If you want to find a dance in your area go Here. And if you want to learn some dance moves before you go (although you usually don't have to) search them on Youtube, or check out this worksheet.
If you're in the Boston Area, might I recommend BIDA?
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