summertime na na na na na na

It’s a gorgeous day outside, and I’m inside sitting shiva under the natural sunlight of our energy-saving bulbs. They hurt my eyes. I’m hunched over and squinting. And…mourning the loss of my youth because I sound like an 80-year-old Jewish grandma.

Every time I get motivated to go out and do something, I linger around at home for too long and lose my mojo. I like to play it safe and comfortable. Or maybe safety and comfort are playing me! Damn those fools.

I think this happens when you let yourself get used to a way of living. All the unimaginable colors of heaven are subdued into imaginable ones, controlled ones. I’ve been thinking lately…that it’s hard for me to do anything that will rock the boat. I don’t want any unnecessary stressors until previously had stressors disappear. But I’m pretty sure this will never happen because Asians like to stress about not having stress. Always have to feel productive. And I don’t think it should happen anyway. I just want my attitude to change. I want my spirit to change.

Moving here was tougher than I thought it would be, and I kind of gave myself that justification as to why I didn’t want to rock the boat. The boat was friggin’ full of suitcases, furniture, appliances, old photos and old memories. It’s been a year now, though, and I think I need to stop lingering around trying to hold everything steady. Everything will come and go. I feel a new season coming. I feel the waves gently rocking.

Maybe I should chug one of Stan’s Goose Island Summertime Ales. Liquid courage. J/k. It actually just tastes delicious. It tastes like going to the lake-beach and you’re starving and you’re waiting for someone to give you the next grilled hot dog and someone gives it to you topped with ketchup, mustard, relish, and crumbled potato chips.

Okay, I’m going outside now.

One day he got into a boat with his disciples, and he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side of the lake.” So they set out, and as they sailed he fell asleep. And a windstorm came down on the lake, and they were filling with water and were in danger. And they went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and the raging waves, and they ceased, and there was a calm. He said to them, “Where is your faith?” And they were afraid, and they marveled, saying to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even winds and water, and they obey him?”


home is where…

the heart is. And where all of Stan’s [clean] undies are on the couch — piled, neatly crumpled, waiting to be folded and put away.