Thoughts on Beautiful Days, Gasoline, & Driving (Without a Destination)

The sky is that shade of blue that only shows up on days like these.  It might not really be any bluer, but it looks perfect against pure white clouds that alternate between puffy and wispy.  But everything looks better through aviator shades.

A plane might make its way, lazily, across the sky.  There might be seagulls crying, cardinals singing.  The tree trunks are dark in shadow, the leaves green and shot through with bright rays of sunshine.  If the sun were a child's drawing, it would be wearing sunglasses.  And grinning.

People are suddenly everywhere - jogging, walking, talking, biking, taking dogs for long walks, pushing infants in strollers.  They've been stuck in hibernation, but no one can miss a beautiful day.  Errands are excuses to get out in the sun; sitting in the backyard is a higher priority than eating, even breathing.  The sun is hot, but the breeze cuts the warmth, clearing away humidity and leaving in its place the peaceful flutter of anxious new leaves and the sound of life, renewed, and so very alive.

What a beautiful day, you think.  And it sounds cliché, but don't listen to that writing professor.  Clichés just have a bad reputation.  Sometimes, there's just no better way to say it.  And what a beautiful day this is.

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Thoughts on Driving Home, Making Faces, and Hopeless Romantics

Having a car has given me a lot of freedom. Granted, I've only had it since November, but Trixie (because she reminds me of the triceratops from Toy Story 3 somehow) has fulfilled that milestone that the movies claim happens when you turn sixteen and get your license. It's the last sense of accomplishment before graduation and college. But really, getting a first car can happen at any time. The faux belief that every kid gets their first car from their parents at sixteen rarely occurs anymore.

Driving home after work is how I detox. I can sing to anything, dance like I'm in my room, and just be in my own oblivious bubble. There's the option to grab some food, hang with friends, or swing by the library and peruse the music shelves or pick up those holds. After a long day of supervising people, being cheery, and answering questions from both superiors and coworkers alike, I want and need time by myself. I don't have to feel like I've got people to entertain and make sure we're hitting our numbers. I can just be me.