ontology | Of Gloom and Glee (Or: I'm Home) (Reply)

(Alyssa and I, respectively, as pirates)

Well, here I am. It's nice to feel familiar keys under my fingertips and know where the bumps and ridges are, and how things behave, but everything's infinitesimally different, as it always is when I return from a trip, and the house seems smaller and darker, and this confounded dial-up and three-year-old computer are about to drive me through the wall. Today's nearly proven to be a rather glum day, other than the magnificent thunderstorm that showered sheets of rain and hail all over the yard, and--well, I'll get to the other.

Monday was also a bit gloomy, as it was spent in the process of leaving the comfort and cheer and quiet busyness of Alyssa's home for the road, the humidity, and the eternal sameness and angst that is home. The drive home was thankfully not nearly as ghastly as the drive down, although it was once again humid, and I did once again come down with a headache, and I was overcome with arbitrary nausea which could have been from the heat, or something I may have eaten, or the headache, or something completely unrelated, or all of them at once. We decided (Dad did, who knows how long ago, and I only learned of it the day before we were to depart!) to stop by on my grandparents, as their new flat in the retirement centre was on the way, and while my preference is almost always to get a trip done with as quickly as possible and with as few stops as can be humanly managed, I was becoming so physically miserable that I was nearly ecstatic to get out of the car. And it was really lovely to see them: they both look so much better, Grandfather especially--he looks healthy, for the first time in quite a while. We had a late lunch, and they took us on a tour of the retirement centre, which, thank God, is not as soul-less as I'd feared. Their flat is really quite cosy, and with some of their familiar things on the walls and in corners, it's cheery and home-like. There are scads of activities for them, and people to talk to, and such; it's practically a village of sorts there. I played them "Peg & Awl", because they hadn't seen my new guitar yet ('new': it was new last Christmas, anyway), which they really seemed to love. (I've been having a great deal of fun making it my own; I've put in new chords and tweaked the melody and tried my best to make it sound real and alive, as it must have sounded when it was first played in the nineteenth century. Playing it makes me feel like a much better musician than I so far am, ha ha.)

I took Excedrin once we got into the retirement centre, so by the time we got back into the car, after sandwiches and ice cream and Grandmother's Never-Ending Miniature Chocolate Bars, and Grandmother insisting I take some jewelery home with me, as 'I never wear it'--including my great-grandmother's engagement ring! It's so lovely and old, and I do so love to have things that belonged to people who came before me, like Grandmother's wedding gown and Grandfather's combat boots and Shakespeare, and even things like Mum's old clothing and the metal bangles she bought in Pakistan (only one remains, as far as I know; I wear it habitually), and Dad's dime-store T.S. Eliot book; it gives me a feeling of the passing of time and things and life and history, and it's interesting to think of wearing or gazing at or enjoying, et cetera, something in the way someone else must have done years or decades ago.

That, however, is completely beside the point. I also lost my original point in my exceedingly long sentence and subsequent rabbit trail, and it was this: by the time we left, my headache was nearly gone, and the nausea was subsiding, though it took a few more hours for it to go away completely. I listened to quite a lot of music--that's one of my favourite things about road trips: the opportunity to completely lose myself in an album. It's difficult to really listen to one's music, often, because one has other things to do, or one is easily distracted. I for one have difficulty with not having anything to do with my eyes, which is why I can never listen to books on CD unless I'm in the car and have the window view to watch. Listening to music is easier, certainly, as one is allowed to be distracted and will not be able to continue to enjoy the rest of an album if they've missed a few seconds or minutes of the preceding material. Anyway. (I am very rabbit-traily tonight!) I played everything from Solas to Coldplay to Loreena McKennitt to movie scores to Damien Rice to the Random CD that Alyssa burned for me, which contains, among other things, Dido, Steeleye Span, and (Two) Songs Appearing On LOST. And I just soaked in it, if you will. I listened to all of the side-melodies and heard the instrumental quirks and other things I'd never noticed before, and then I let myself think, about anything and everything, because music is one of the absolute best catalysts for thought I've ever discovered, and I have gotten so many story germs simply from trails my mind has taken when excited or stimulated by music.

We got home late, around midnight, unpacked, and I went to bed (with Coldplay; my mind was still racing about and I needed music! Really!). Woke this morning feeling a bit gloomy about being back in the midst of it all, and yet in the midst of nothing. On holiday, I had things to do and see and opportunities at my fingertips at nearly every moment, and yet I almost never felt busy or rushed. Coming home to my life in which I am constantly having to strive to keep myself entertained and my mind stimulated was a bit of a let-down after that. My social oppurtunities have dwindled as summer's come on, so now I really only get Out of the House for church on Sunday and my guitar lesson on Monday. (Of course, it isn't as if there's a whole lot to do in this town, really; but if I could get out on my own schedule, I could gambol about downtown, sit somewhere and watch people, and poke into the Peaceable Kingdom to admire the paintings, and then nip over to the library; or go down to Rosie's and peruse the used books. Mother nags at me to get on my bike and ride about the neighbourhood, but I walk around the block and then some every day or two, and Treasure Lake is not especially interesting, unless one is looking at the foliage and wildlife, which is, while interesting, all seen before.)

At the H's, I had things to do and opportunities to do things, and, best of all, I was in the city again, and while we weren't able to take advantage of the artistic opportunities of such during our time there, the notion that one could, if one really wanted to, and that one wouldn't have especial difficulty going about it, and might not even be over-stretched financially, was thrilling. And being with people--no, I haven't given up my introverted ways, but then especially because of that, I value extremely the company of people I love and trust and whom I find interesting, and who find me interesting and pleasureable. I even forgot my supplements while I was there--Dad took off with the cosmetic case with all the medicine and toiletries and such in it--and yet I suffered nothing from not taking them. Obviously, my depression comes not from mere bodily cycles, but from my mind being dulled from lack of use, and if only I could get out and do things more often, be with pleasureable people--! Alas.

So, I spent the day re-reading Crown Duel, which is always a delightful way to spend an afternoon, of course: I hadn't read it in months, and Alyssa made me want to read it all over again (because Vidanric is just awesome like that), and I suppose the afternoon would have been infinitely worse had I not had a book. Sometime after lunch, I took my walk, with my new Solas album blaring through my headphones (yes, that's for another post, but it's Dad's slightly late birthday gift). I stopped in the middle of the road about three-quarters of the way home and danced frenetically to the gorgeously energetic "Rain and Snow", with my too-long jeans dragging on the ground, and my billowy new blouse flouncing about.

But oh! this evening! I wasn't expecting it at all; how marvellous! Dad left the house, ostensibly to get the mail, but I believe his real goal was to go to Blockbuster. Apparently, he got the mail, because about an hour later, he asked if I'd gotten 'my package'. What package? And why, pray tell, was it from California? Did I know anyone in California? (Well, yes, I did, I remembered, but I didn't think either of them had my mailing address.) I took it to my bedroom to open--which took two minutes and a very pointy pen, as packing tape is the root of much evil, and what fell out (the box sort of upended itself in the opening process) but--Rilke? And then, oh glory, a fountain pen, and refill ink, and the Pride & Prejudice score--and, thankfully, a card, tendering the fondest wishes of my darlings lexidoh and avonleigh! Again, I hadn't any idea they even had my mailing address, and my mother denies all knowledge, and it was so unexpected, and I am thrilled beyond thrilled, really. I suspected Nelle was involved when the Ranier Maria Rilke books fell into my lap, as we've discussed him and I've mentioned that I adore what I've read of his poetry, but haven't able to find him at the library. You two are just the darlingest! (And despicable. Plotting about me! Really!) The fountain pen, I vow now, will be the first to mark the virgin paper of my beautiful new notebooks. I'm beginning to feel so romantic these days, with my Waterhouse print, and my growing poetry collection, and my pretty notebooks, and my fountain pen (which got my fingers all inky when I tried it out; huzzah! I still have ink on my thumb), and my hats, and everything. Your lovely words in the card (from Trader Joe's! yay!) made me blush and feel warm and fuzzy (figuratively) inside, and I'm not at all disappointed that it didn't arrive on my birthday--having it now, and Dad's Solas album several days ago, and the box Mum bought and forgot to give me, has stretched my birthday out, which is throughly delightful.