Existing Messages

Last week when complaining about my new roommate's meat-crazed lifestyle my amazing, delightful friend Zogs purred when I described one of this chick's meals. I do not eat meat, and on occasion when I decide to be reckless and eat cheese I end up regretting that severely, however, I adore my friend beyond belief. So I decided that after all of our failed meals that we bought, and all of our successful meals that we made at home, I needed to make up for yet another meals-away-from-home saga. Keep in mind I do not buy deli meat, and the last time I did so I was probably fucking 15 and recited whatever my mother told me. I spent $21 on meats alone. For one sandwich. For one girl. For one lunch. This one moment in time. (EXPLETIVE).

I also made mashed potatoes and used vegan butter and sour cream. I'm not really sure how I feel about them, but I fed her those also. And some blanched broccoli, and a tangerine for good measure (don't need to get scurvy, now). The deli meats made a turkey, ham, and roast beast sandwich with mayo, mashed fresh avocado, tomato, lettuce, onion. It was a mountain. I drove 20 minutes to her work and dropped it off before I drove another 20 minutes after that to school.

Yep. Because of a purr.

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Last night when I was in my climate change class we were discussing how habits change, one example being how we use email instead of the post office. My professor asked, "Yea, like how many of us actually go to the post office and write letters?" I meekly raised my hand to shoulder-height. She turned red, smiled hugely, and kinda laughed saying, "Aw, really? You do that?" I responded, "Yes, of course. I want people to know that they are special to me." She proceeded to tell me how cute it was. She was really stunned. But it matters.

It took me several months to get in the hang of it, but I now write letters weekly. And it's not consistent for everyone! I have so many people to send letters to that it can be pretty sporadic I imagine. I bought stationery, I bought stamps, and boom: all those people I care for most know that even though I'm thousands of miles away that I spend 30 minutes to an hour (or more!) a week writing them. Sometimes I even buy cards, I don't miss birthdays, and I mail presents, too.

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Today another friend of mine and I were discussing people, and judgmental people. Observations and the act of observing people came into play, and her sentiment was that being that observant has got to be exhausting. Is my mind going a million miles an hour? Or is this just how I am? I notice every look, reaction, movement, choice of dress, shoes, hair, materials, textures, tones, scents, inflection, color, angle, of everything. The way the sun hits the building. The way the grass grows in this one crack of the sidewalk. The way tires hit the road, how they clack along the pavement like a runner on a track when they have snow chains on, and how the buses' hydraulics make loud blasts of air when they pause. It may not all have meaning, but that is for my processing brain to determine, not for some sensory filter on my brain. I take it all in. It may not be of use, or it may.

People like to be noticed; it changes the tone of their entire day. They appreciate when someone remembers things about them. People need to be cared for; they preen like peacocks when one does so for them. Each moment is context for the next, and if you miss it it's gone. These sensitivities teach me how to handle you with care.  To make you a lunch fit for a lumberjack, or to say 'I love you' ten thousand times over in brightly colored paper and pen.

All moments are messages. And I'm reading your messages.