An Introvert’s Winter

Hello Friends,

With this week being the coldest Pennsylvania has seen so far this winter I, gratefully, chose to stay inside.  Unfortunately, that means there was not much for me to see except the dirty white walls of my toasty dorm room.  And the lovely face of my green-haired roommate.  I did however see a few indistinguishable turtles walking around campus, bundled up in their winter shells to keep from freezing on their walks to the library or dining hall.

It was rather unnerving to pass these faceless eyes as the strode past, raising a gloved hand in friendly greeting. Personally I was afraid to wave back, and I am certain I said, “hi,” to several people I don’t actually know.  Hopefully my fellow introverts can relate, but I think there is something to be said for the social anxiety of waving in general.  Now, add the pressure of waving when you don’t know who your waving to.

We’ve all been there.  You see someone you only vaguely know, and there is a glancing eye contact.  Their hand goes up, and a smile spreads across their face.  Then as you raise your hand, surprised by the eagerness of this greeting, you realize, they weren’t waving at you.  And in that moment a small piece of you dies.  You stop believing in love and you start questioning the fidelity of all of your relationships.  But when the faces of passersby are covered with scarves, the stakes are even higher.

And so friends, unable to handle the intense pressure of simple social norms I chose the safety of my room this week.  I hope you found safety and comfort to, wherever you were and whatever the temperature.  Hopefully next well be more exciting.

Until next time, stay out of trouble.

Hello Again, Friends

I sat down to write my first blog post in several months and didn’t quite know where to start.  First of all, hello! This blog is not dead after all, and I hope to fully restore it to life over the next few months.  As you can see, there has been a little remodel to the look of this site, and there is more of that to come.  There is also going to be some new content added as these next few weeks unfold, which brings me to the point of this post.

I would like to introduce a new segment, which I think will be a lot of fun for all of us.  For now, I am titling this segment: My World.  Though the title is subject to change, the point of this segment is simple: I would like to invite all of you to see the world as I see it.  In my life I often see people, places, and things and imagine them into new stories.  So, each week I will write a short little blurb about my imaginings of the world around me that week.  I expect we will meet a lot of new characters along the way, as people-watching is one of my favorite things to do.

What exactly this will this look like? I don’t know.  But don’t worry, we’ll figure it out together.

Until next time, stay out of trouble!

 

Shattered Reflections

When I was very little there was a red jay that used to come to our back porch every day, all summer long.  We had a glass sliding door that lead out onto the porch and a wood-railing that wrapped around the porch.  Every morning, like clock-work, that bird would perch upon the wood-railing, look at the glass, and then with all his might he would spread his wings and fly head-first into the glass door.  He would bounce off the door, then go back, sit on the railing, and do it all over again.  Over and over again we would hear the ping, ping, ping of his little beak hitting the glass. He would fly at that glass door from sun-up to sun-down every day until it was time for him to fly South, but we knew he would be back the next summer.  For 5 years we saw that bird, he chipped our glass door a few times.  For a while we could not understand what he was doing then we figured it out. That bird saw his reflection in the glass and he was trying to fly through the glass and get to himself.  A few years ago the red bird stopped coming to our house.  I don’t know what happened to him, maybe he died, maybe he finally broke through the glass.  I guess well never know, but I’ll never forget the bird who almost broke his neck trying to shatter the reflection he saw of himself.