-- From "On Aesthetics" in On Looking: Essays by Lia Purpura
Last Thursday, while waiting in line like forever at a Chick-fil-A drive-thru, I opened my iPhone note app and wrote:
As soon as I got into the car it started to pour. I didn't know what to do, so I texted it's so pouring, waited, or more like hesitated, and then reluctantly started the car. As I was exiting the campus an intense bolt of lightning struck across the pale sky. Like a smack in the face. Making me startled. The rain got even heavier. I drove at a steady 35 on the 45 freeway, trying to see what's in front of me. I saw about 10 feet away a silver Honda Civic perfectly camouflaged behind equally silver strings of pouring rain. Good, well at least I can see it, I thought. It was literally like driving through curtains of water. Sort of a déjà vu of a pleasant hot shower this morning where everything was just water, water, and water. I felt safe when I was taking a shower, though, because I was not moving at 35 mph and I was not at the risk of crashing into a car in front of me that I could barely see. Plus I smelled like musk, grapefruit, moringa flowers, lavender, and all the other good stuff. I saw watery red lights at the intersection and managed to gradually step on the breaks for a safe stop. Okay this is kinda scary, I thought, and played with my phone to change songs. Going through hundreds of songs, all of a sudden, I questioned myself with no particular reason: what's gonna happen if you stop
I had to type it down because A) I was bored, and B) I had to remember that string of actions. My order was ready so I shoved my phone in my pocket while in mid sentence and took the paper bag from the clerk. Nuggets and stuff. The bag was warm and smelled like chicken. Ah, ain't that a relief. It stopped raining while I spent semi-eternity at the drive-thru queue, so in order to avoid another nonsensical swimming-like driving, I drove back home as quickly as possible. Two minutes passed. I dragged my left foot that looked like a dead fish due to ligament sprain and brought myself upstairs. Again two minutes passed. Finally home. When I dropped everything on the kitchen table my phone ding-ed at your reply:
Is it raining?
(Photographs by Margaret Durow)
I remember when it snowed, like really snowed, a few months ago. No bullshit snowing but actual snowflakes piling up in sheets. We were on our way to get Thai food. There were only few people on the street. It was so bizarrely cold that all I could do was to keep tightening our hands in your pocket as if it would make us warmer. You glanced down at me and gave a quick awkward chuckle.
"I think I... prayed too hard for snow."
"Looks like it."
"I didn't expect this much snow. Or this much cold."
"It's okay, I like it."
A few more minutes of walking in the snow finally let us have warm curry and seafood soup. We walked back home a bit warmer and content with some leftover food in our hands, watched a couple of Twin Peaks episodes, took a nap, made out, and ate the microwaved leftover. That night, I drunk-wrote myself a mental note that I would always try to be thankful for things that I would have otherwise failed to be thankful for.
That little personal vow, although made under the influence, is still active and valid, I guess, because the last paragraph of my recent diary entry, which I wrote sober, is full of all sorts of things that I am thankful for. The paragraph ends however with the sentence that reads,
And if one thankful thing vanishes due to any unfortunate reason, that's also fine, I can always look for another thing to be thankful for, and I must.
-- which I found in retrospect to actually resemble bleak desperation of a spoiled kid who's fixated on the idea of being happy and staying fulfilled, a bit too compulsively.
+ sohn - the wheel
