Beat the Heat.

I couldn't be more excited. Summer has come and gone in a rapid fashion, and I'm left here to take what I've learned, and pursue forthcoming occurrences. It's amazing to think how quickly time passes. Although the days can sometimes seem to take forever, once over, one can regretfully never return to that moment of lax insipidness.

I sigh at this notion, as the sound of the little league world series cordially interrupts the rift of cars on the street below. Chula Vista, a California team, has made it quite far, and is now playing against the directly-controlled municipality Taiwan squad from Taipei. The series was forced upon my initial impassive self this last week, and as I bared the first few games, I now find myself attentively engaged in the competitiveness. I feel as if I should be painting my face in patronage. Talk about a complete social change. Now don't get me wrong, I love baseball, I actually really enjoy watching it. After all, I've grown up with the American pastime since I was a little girl. The sport has been known to drag, however, and at the time, I would have rather been watching all three extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy more willingly than preteens with over sized uniforms. My dad, however, was determined to brain wash me. And, to say the least, he was successful.

Getting back to the matter at hand, summer can be seen as a brilliant shade of yellow, or an unpleasant humid drudgery. Although the rising temperatures have their faults, I revel and embrace the opportunity for a scrumptious glass of cold, iced sweet tea. Even when the heat has unsolicitously waltzed through your door, it gives one the opportunity to lounge on the couch and delight in a marathon of 'Blind Date.' Even the best of summer eventually has to come to an end. Alas, my diminutive vacation will come to a screeching halt at 8:00am tomorrow morning.

Lucky for me, I was able to take a trip back home for a quick visit and bask in the little-big-town feeling that it consistently exudes. It's your typical expanding farm settlement, where you're bound to run into someone you know at all times of the day. An inhabitant of this area, however, has undoubtedly mastered the technique of invisibility, as well as the art of dodging. Call it a mark of a true towns person, or merely temporary unsociability, it's guaranteed that all who live here have used this skill at least once at the grocery store. The temperature is always hotter than you'd want, and fans are consistently zooming. You begin to ignore the sweat that seems to never go away. The heat, though, always makes the pool glisten that much more, and soothingly drinks you in as you take a dip. The neighbor's dog is considered your dog, and your cat is considered a trespasser. After the initial preliminary discourse is concluded upon my arrival, it is made clear that I will be mowing the lawn, and my brother to hedge behind me. Life is good.

Even scattered thoughts in this small town, simply cease to exist. Your mind is always filled with contentment, with the instilled notion of enjoying the things you have, and living for the moment that you're given. My heart swells at the idea of my childhood, and the persona passed down through my family. We're simple, we love, we eat. The same potatoes and eggs are anticipated every weekend morning, ending with deep laughs throughout the night. I can't imagine my life not being able to appreciate what I've been given, what I don't have, and even what I can't have. A mark of the little towns, this is where character is built. This is where real people exist. You won't find them in bustling cities with egotistical navigators who can't wait for you to finish crossing the street, or even to return the greeting of a smile. It's as if these individuals don't know how to talk, laugh, treat others; don't know how to enjoy the simple things, let alone the ability to properly heckle at a baseball game. Neighbors are just the noise-makers next door, yet to me, are considered family. Boar hunting is seen as obtuse, and, even though I can't help but giggle at the idea, enjoy a nice boar sausage patty from time to time.

I can confidently say that I'm happy to be who I am, and where I'm from. Some people try to forget their hometown, and set out to join the monotonous crowd of busy-goers. Even if I don't end up returning and establishing a permanent residency, I will always be a hands in the dirt, hands in the cookie jar, hard working appreciative girl. Thanks, Visalia.

Proverbs 27:8,
CourtReplies

Update: Chula Vista wins the championship game!

Hurricane Hunters.

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if there wasn't any sunshine. Always hidden behind a towering and disseminated great oak, caught on the hinges of a perforating sky-scraper, clouds egotistically pocketing its rays. Shadows are all that remind us of this veiled entity, yet go unnoticed to the adjusted commoner.

Every day that I walk out my door, I find myself in the same systematically routine forecast, that is, completely engulfed by the sun's glow, with a parrot customarily squawking in a neighboring tree. By the end of the day, my skin is found a shade darker, and the cosmetic paint on my 24-speed gently losing its luster. The blinds tenderly stir as the air caresses them, rocking in a side-to-side motion. Everyone, every individual, can be found out basking in its glory. Walking their undersized dogs, jogging to the rhythm exuding from their ipods, or marveling in the sensation of sand beneath their feet, individuals feed on the energy and dynamism the sun emits. Without fail and leaving all doubt at the gate, you are not only consistently surrounded by light, but set up for several prearranged human interactions.

As spirited as the warm weather is, I can't seem keep my fleeting thoughts away from the rainy season. There's something about a damp morning, mist entwining with the fabric of your shirt, being pressed softly onto your skin, and fog that obstructs even a 20-20's view. The sound of rain outside your window at night comes with a soothing echo, as it beats down above you and rolls to the earth below. Flowers open up to the gift of life it brings, and I rejoice in the use of my electric blanket. Staying in doesn't seem as estranged, and a lack of desire for even the simplest of discursive motions is a meteorological acceptance.

I feel as if I have been on the same path, over beaten and insolvent, rising with the sun and falling with it. Like a machine, I recharge my batteries at night to fall back into the same lethargic motion, paralleling the systematic forecast. I am the sun.

I burn throughout the day, and find myself sinking into the comfort and coolness of the ocean, its waves rocking me to sleep. I clamber out of its depths each morning, and draw on my mask of luminosity. I'm ready for the rain.

Maybe its because I'm eager for a change. I have an irrational mind, one that cringes at the idea of residing in a certain location for too long. My time here is just about up, and I'm ready for the rains to come, to salute me on my way to the next destination. The earth is slowly rotating about me, as I make my way to another hemisphere. I'm ready to experience the next stage in life - to explore, to dream, to relinquish in the mere concept of getting closer to finding out just exactly who CourtReplies is, and where she belongs. Call me an adventurist, or even an apathetic stability-challenged individual, I know that if all else fails, for now, I can assuredly count on one thing.

A breezy 78 degrees and an exasperating feathered friend. Here's to 295 more revolutions, earth.


Ecclesiastes 2:1-26,
CourtReplies