We’ve all had those moments before. Don’t try to deny it.
One minute you’re going about your business, light as a bird. The next minute, something happens that’s worthy of sending you first class to the land of Humiliation. Your eyes dart quickly around, anxious to make sure that no one noticed your blunder. Just when you think you’re in the clear, you see them. That lone stranger in the distance. Your eyes meet. Your heart stops. You know. They saw the whole thing.
I am that person.
For some reason I cannot fathom, I have been chosen to be a witness of the strange, the embarrassing, the completely random. To see that poor soul slip on the ice. To see that guy accidentally punch himself in the face when he sneezes. To see those random people wearing super creepy clown masks while driving a slug bug down a deserted road at 6:00 am.
Seriously, that last one is so freaking creepy. And, weird. It’s been almost ten years, and I still can’t get that image out of my head. I mean, that one guy looked directly at me. He just stared at me as they drove by. Why? And, why did it have to be clowns of all things? That experience shook my middle school self to her core.
My hyperactive observational skills are both a blessing and a curse. I am constantly seeing things that I don’t really want to see. That spider in the corner? I see it. Those people making out behind the dorms? Ew.
On the other hand, I get to see things that a lot of other people may miss. A few weeks ago I witnessed a gang fight between a group of squirrels and some mockingbirds. I rooted for the squirrels. Yesterday, I saw a little kid dancing alone on a tree stump. These incidents may seem insignificant, but they were moments that made me smile when I didn’t really feel like smiling.
Since this post should probably have some kind of point:
There aren’t a lot of things I’m sure about these days. One of them is that this world is weird. It’s also pretty wonderful.
I’m glad I’m here to experience it.
When I walked outside today, I thought I was just going to be facing yet another terribly unforgiving hot summer day. I donned a pair of my many sunglasses and prepared myself for the inevitable running of sweat down my back and the glaring of the sun in my eyes. What I did not expect were the clouds. The biggest, fluffiest, most wonderful clouds in the whole world. The kind that look like cotton candy. The kind that make you feel like you’ve been transported to a fairy tale world. The kind with hidden figures waiting to be found.
They filled the sky, and they filled my heart.
To a normal person, this may seem a tad melodramatic. And those normal people would be completely right. I just can’t help it. They’re just so beautiful! All I wanted to do when I saw them was lay out in the lawn and spend my afternoon gazing into the sky. But, I didn’t do that. It’s too hot out, and there are bugs, and my pale vampire-like skin burns like crazy. So I just had to content myself with snapping as many photos as possible and gazing out the window.
I’ve always loved cloudy days. They just make my heart feel so happy and light. One of my favorite things to do when I was little was to just sit and watch the clouds float along, to search for hidden figures in the sky. Cloud gazing got me through many a road trip with the family. Is it something I still like to do today? Yes. Absolutely. There is nothing I like better. I’ve seen dragons breathing white flames, mermaids fighting giant squid, bouquets of flowers, great sailing ships, even a random detached arm flexing it’s biceps. If you’ve never cloud gazed, then you are seriously missing out.
The only thing I love more than cloudy days are rainy days. And snowy days, but we’re not gonna talk about that right now.
I’ve been called many a thing for my love of clouds. And rain. And massive thunderstorms. I’ve been called odd. Depressing. Weird. Really? Is liking rain that bad? Do you really enjoying hearing your flesh sizzle from the unhindered heat of the sun? Do you really like having your sweat glands turned on like faucets? Cause I don’t.
I prefer feeling the cool breeze of a rainstorm dance across my skin. Seeing that soft blanket of white and gray cover the sky. Listening to the patter of rain on glass windows, and smelling the richness of the earth as it hits the ground. I even like the black clouds that broil on the horizon when a thunderstorm is brewing. I like the little rivers of water that form in the streets, the brilliant flashes of lightning that trace their patterns across the sky, and the intense clapping of thunder that makes you believe, just for a second, that the sky might break apart.
If that makes me depressing, so be it. I’ll take a gray sky over a blue sky any day.
P.S. Check out my blog’s Instagram to sneak a peak of the wonderfully, fluffy clouds that inspired this post.
In case you haven’t already noticed, I just wanted to let everyone know that you can now follow me on Instagram!
You can access my account by clicking on the link in the sidebar, or searching for my handle, @silosandtypewriters.
Don’t worry. This isn’t the angst ridden “where do I belong in the world?” “who am I really?” type of post that the title might lead you to believe it is. There are no whiffs of existential crisis to be found here. Instead, I have for you a grumpy cat (though not the grumpy cat), a sassy redhead, and a bookworm. Confused? So am I.
Let me explain.
A few months ago there was this weird game going about. I don’t remember if it was a general weird game, or if it was just something that my family came up with. Anyways, the game was basically just finding three characters, whether they be from book or movie, that describes your personality. However, rather than pick the characters ourselves, we had to rely on the decisions of others. Like I said, I’m not really sure where this strange game came from.
After many hours of deliberation and false starts, my sisters finally decided on the three characters that, together, pretty faithfully describe my hodge-podge personality.
I really shouldn’t be surprised that this character was the first, and quickest pick, of the lot. With our rampant sarcastic wit, often pessimistic attitudes, general grumpiness, dry sense of humor, and love of lasagna, sleep, and candy, this sassy, orange tabby and I are scarily alike.
Some may have quickly tried to defend themselves when given this comparison. I mean, he can be kind of a jerk. He is a cat, after all. From me, however, there were no complaints. I knew that what my sisters said was true. Besides, I’ve actually always loved Garfield. He just…gets me. You know?
Destiny has deigned that Garfield and I be kindred spirits, and I must say that I am perfectly okay with it.
2. Belle (Beauty and the Beast)
Pick number two was, of course, the lovely Belle. While I may not be a French beauty, I do love to read. Which is probably the only reason this character was picked for me.
I would like to point out, however, that I actually have much more in common with her than our love for books. For example:
a) I am a big daydreamer.
b) I am a hopeless romantic with high expectations (no Gastons for me).
c) I have a case of wanderlust that would make your head spin.
d) I enjoy spending my afternoons reading to sheep.
e) I have a tendency to burst out into song whilst twirling about.
So, as you can see, I’m at least 33.3% Disney princess. Now, if I could just find myself a tragically misunderstood prince with a castle and a swoon-worthy library.
(P.S. Please don’t take the reading to sheep thing seriously. I don’t actually do that.)
3. Donna Noble (Doctor Who)
When I asked my sister why she thinks I’m like Donna, she replied with one word: Strange. Thanks, sis.
Me and Donna Noble are actually a lot alike. Besides being strange, we’re both super stubborn, sassy, and sarcastic. We also both try to act tough and aloof to disguise the fact that our metaphorical insides are actually quite mushy. *laughs to hide the tears*
Really, it seems the only difference between me and this sassy redhead, besides the hair, age, and her Britishness, is the fact that I’ve never gone on adventures with a handsome time travelling alien. This actually upsets me more than you might think.
If you see a blue phone box floating around in the sky, let me know.
“Though my soul may set in darkness,
it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly
to be fearful of the night.”
-Sara Williams, “The Old Astronomer to His Pupil”-
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the phrase “You should write a book!”
I just…I can’t just…you don’t under…*sigh.*
People who don’t write just don’t seem to understand how freaking difficult writing can be sometimes. You know, as much as I enjoy it, writing is not that easy. If anyone ever tells you it is, they are lying. Yes, some days the words flow easier, the stories swirling in your brain are a bit clearer, but this is the exception, not the rule.
Even now, I am struggling to find the words to explain how difficult and frustrating writing can be. Sometimes the words you want to say just refuse to come, and when they finally do, they are often far inferior to the words you need to express how you truly feel.
Plus, I just suck at the whole creative writing thing. I tried that whole scene in college, and it was a disaster. Some people are blessed with the creativity and imagination to pull new worlds and characters out of thin air. I am not one of those people. So, I think I can pretty much nix the idea of writing a book.
Despite this, I really do love writing. It actually wasn’t until recently that I discovered just how much I love it. It’s not just a desire. It’s a need.
Sometimes I feel like I’m going to burst, my fingers tingling and itching to get out the words stuck in my head and my soul. Sometimes I don’t even have anything to say, or what I do have to say is just complete nonsense. In those moments, I just know I need to write. Which is actually kind of how I feel right now, writing this. I was just sitting at my desk, trying to get through the last few hours of the day, and suddenly I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to write. So, here I am.
That’s honestly one of the main reasons I decided to create this blog. I didn’t have any specific plans, I wasn’t hoping to make a career out of it, and I certainly didn’t think that the world was in desperate need of my small-town, naive, uncalled-for bouts of wisdom. I was just in desperate need of an outlet. I needed a reason to write. And someone to write for. I can’t write for myself. I can be very critical.
The more I think about this, the more I write, the more sure I am that this is what I want to be doing. What I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve never been sure about what I wanted to do when I “grew up.” I’ve so many ideas of what I could be, just an endless stream of desires coming and going. Growing up, I thought I might become an archaeologist or a police officer. Maybe a fashion designer or a baker. Now that I’m here, though, I think I can pretty confidently say that I want to spend my life working with words. It may not always be easy, it may end up being an incredibly frustrating and unfruitful path, but I think I would regret not going for it.
So, wish me good luck. Cause there’s like a 70% chance that it’s not going to work out.