High School Days

I just had some high school days. I meet friends all the time the museum, the library and especially in the evenings but I only sometimes have high school days. They sneak up on me and stir up memories that I had always believed that I had matured beyond. It happens when I�m in my old neighborhood mostly. I find them everywhere and doing different things. I see them on transit a lot. They seem to be coming home from work or sometimes tell me that they are visiting parents. I somehow have friends in common and will often accompany them to events that I am participating in. I tend to meet a lot of them during the holiday season and they often are dressed nicely. I generally think that they super popular and am so happy that we got to talk. But that�s just me.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.

A Cup and a Paper

Last Sunday during the storm I noted that the rain�s arrival was oddly comforting. I had woken up at an early hour, which was out of the ordinary for me. When I can�t sleep I get a book out and read. Around 5 I heard an odd noise outside like a metal garbage can being moved. The lights flickered.

While the ocean is already amazing this close to the coast, the rain can be more so. Normally from my house almost a half mile from the beach I can hear the waves at night. It is like white noise in the distance. When I go to the corner of my block I can see them. In contrast, the rain and wind slam against my window and leave me wondering at their power.

At times this kind of weather can be suffocating. I can�t take the bike out for fear of accidents. The bus system always breaks when it rains. I don�t own a car. It is as if I am always stuck when it rains. That morning I got my (broken) umbrella and walked to the local caf�. I wore wool. The southern side of the streets was more protected from the wind and therefore less wet. The power was out all over the place. I asked the paper man in his truck for a paper. He told me to stay dry.

Yet for all its inconvenience the rain can be comforting. Sitting there listening to the locals murmur about recent gossip and politics I felt warm and dry indeed. I reflected on how I awoke thinking of an excuse to stay in bed curled up with my pillow. I realized that as the neighborhood woke up and assessed the storm damage there really wasn�t a better place to be than at the caf� with a cup and a paper.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.