Thursday, March 23, 2017

I Don't Get Out Much

My brother told me the other day that no one blogs anymore. Which of course summoned my pride from the depths of my being, chest high and muscles bulging, to chop his nonchalant comment to bits with a machete. Actually, my pride never has to be summoned from very deep. In fact, I don't know if it even submerges much. More like drapes itself by the side of my pool of conscious, one foot dangling in, the other planted on the cement for quick entry into my daily life.

And here we are. If only to subdue Mr. Pride Inside, consider this my silent, stuck-out tongue. No offence.

And wow, has this site collected some dust? Excuse me while I blow it your way through the world wide cobweb. If you must sneeze, bless you. Spring cleaning right here, wowza.

So, what can I say? I've been busy. And if I haven't, I've been otherwise occupied. And if I haven't, I've been sleeping. And, there's my life.

And here is my life.
What is my life?
What is life?
What life?

That's a deep and inspirational little poem I wrote for you. It's called, "To Life, Live".

An inspirational song just came on my Pandora movie soundtrack station, so that means this post is about to get good. Buckle up kids.

So I work at a call center, doing customer service things. I'm a supervisor now, so I don't spend as many hours on the phone, but I still do take calls, and listen to calls, and listen to the agents take calls, and basically I work a lot with calls.

So today I get home, and my husband is napping. So I figure I'll get some things done that I've been putting off for a while, one of those things being call the pharmacy about my prescription. I dial the number, and ask what they need, which is my insurance information. I put them on speaker so I can look it up on my phone while I talk, but I can't download it from the email, and it won't let me open it, and I finally just let them know I'll drop by once I figure it out. I get it downloaded and readable, and after a few moments of lazy-inspired second-guessing, I put on my sandals, pack my survival bag with all the can't-leave-without-ems (keys, wallet, peppermint chap-stick, a pen, my current book, tic tacs), and start the one block journey on foot. I could have gone in the car, but I was feeling the need for fresh air, and also I thought it sounded daring. It wasn't though, just a little windy, and I had to stop a few times to dump the rocks out of my sandal. I never understood how a rock could get stuck in a sandal. I understand that there are a lot of entry points, but there are exactly as many exits, and somehow those little buggers just would rather hang around just under the bridge of my foot, in just the right tender spot of my sole.

So together with the walking and the rock-dumping, I total two minutes from house to pharmacy. And there I am getting some help from the pharmacist lady. It wasn't a difficult issue. It didn't take long to do, but there were some moments she left me to my thoughts as she worked. During these moments I'm thinking, these things are so much different on the phone. It's another world. There are so many things that happen in person that just don't read when you're on the phone. Like a smile, or happy demeanor. Or being able to see that the pharmacist is working on something on the computer, rather than sitting in silence only knowing that they're doing something when it's verbalized through the earpiece. There are so many senses taken out of the equation that we don't realize make a difference.

And then I'm back on my life rant about how technology is annoying, and gets in the way of life and people, and I make a stand by dramatically ignoring my phone and computer for hours because they lack that sense of real. And then I forget that I was in the middle of a conversation with my visiting teacher, who was expecting a prompt response.

But I really do need more of those real moments. And I've been spending so much time in technology that a walk down the block to the pharmacy gets my adrenaline going. Heck, even taking out the trash has become adventurous.

And last week when I was doing just that, I heard some kids laughing and playing outside, and once again, my think-muscles get going. It brought me back to those spring evenings when we would play and play, our fingers and toes stiffening gradually from the cold, and the light slipping slowly into darkness, afraid to go inside for socks and sweaters for fear of being sent instead to bed. Those evenings would last forever. But maybe it wasn't just that I was still learning to measure time, or my perception of it has been skewed with years. I think instead that I relished every moment with my eyes, my ears, and nose, and filled each minute to the brim, so that few passed by unused, forgotten, or pushed aside.

And that was easier to accomplish with a less-encumbered mind, and three check-box to-do list (eat, sleep, and play), but the concept is the same. So back at it again, untangling myself string-by-string from circle of social media, to weave more color into the canvas of my life.

And hopefully some more blogging material? I've missed this place.

Have a good day, and go play outside.