Dictators.

It was a new day; it was a sun-rise over mountains, car fumes in the lungs, and a dirty blonde street dog.
Era un nuevo día; era un amanecer sobre las montañas, el humo de los coches en los pulmones, y una perrita rubia y sucia. 

I was told to walk with purpose, to cross at the corner with as many people as possible. To avoid the small park at night, and not to eat anything spicy or too rich for at least 5 more days.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito, y cruzar en la esquina con la otra gente...evitar el parque más pequeño en la noche, y no comer algo picante o rico por lo menos 5 días más.  

Give yourself time to adjust.
Necesitas tiempo para ajustar.

Adjustments. It seems that adjusting just what we do, isn’t it? We adjust to new climates, new cultures, new people, new jobs. All the time we’re just shifting in our own skins, trying to find the most comfortable position.

Los ajustes. Parece que el ajuste es lo que hacemos, no? Ajustamos a nuevos climas, nuevas culturas, nueva gente, nuevos trabajos. Todo el tiempo estamos moviendo debajo de nuestros propios pieles, buscando la posición más confortable. 

It was a new week; it was another language, a bitter drink, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. We represented – at some points – 8 different nations. We spoke of jobs and journeys and one by one, and in various ways, we slowly admitted we were running. Running from oppressive things and closed minded thinking, towards being alive but being afraid. If you don’t adjust in the expected ways, then you really don’t know what is supposed to happen next.

Era una nueva semana; era otro idioma, una bebida amarga, y bailando hasta la madrugada. Representábamos (a veces) 8 países distintos. Hablábamos de trabajos y aventuras y uno por uno admitimos que corríamos...de cosas opresivas, de mentes cerradas, hacia la esperanza de vivir vidas completas...pero con miedo. Si no ajustas a la vida como la mayoría de la gente del mundo, no puedes saber lo que va a seguir. 

And so we created our own realities, we chose the next chapter in the book.
We lived by the dictates of our own consciousness.
Por eso, estábamos construyendo nuestras propias realidades. Elegimos el proximo capitulo del libro. Estábamos viviendo por los dictados de nuestras propias conciencias.

Sometimes, a collective conscious. Other times, we were 8 nations living individually side-by-side. In camionetas. In the streets. On beaches.
A veces con una conciencia colectiva. Otras veces, estábamos 8 naciones viviendo vidas individuales pero lado a lado. En las playas. En las camionetas. En las calles. 
 
It was a new perspective; it was remembering how – who – I was before I forgot.
It was a regeneration.
It was a right decision.
It was all smiles, human contact, and summer skin.

I was told to walk with purpose – and I found one.

Era una nueva perspectiva; era la memoria de cómo - quién - era antes de que se me olvidó.
Era una regeneración.
Era la decisión correcta.
Era sonrisas, contacto humano, y piel de verano.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito...y lo encontré. 

O Useful Element and Clear!

Water has always intrigued me.

When I was young, I used to stare straight into my glass (or fish tank, or bath water) and marvel at the fact that I was looking at something that was almost invisible. I could see it, feel it, taste it. I was amazed - like I was in the presence of something that, at any moment, could instantly and completely conceal itself from me forever.

I loved water so much that sometimes I would just stand at the water fountain and let it run over my lips. I didn't want to drink it. I just wanted to feel it. I took long showers on purpose. I drank from the hose in the back yard. I got up in the middle of the night to drink water from the bathroom sink because a still glass of room-temperature water just wasn't exciting enough for me. I jumped in fountains. I stood outside when it rained. When condensation formed on the side of a glass, I crouched down and stared at it - in awe of the fact that my near-invisible object of fascination could do things - like run down the side of a glass without any help.

I thought I'd grown out of my fascination with water - you know, after learning about chemical compounds and evaporation and all that stuff. But, today, as I bent down to get a drink of water from a water fountain...I let myself linger just long enough that I was no longer drinking and was just letting the water run over my lips.

As I was walking away, I started thinking about all the poems and songs I knew about water - and how lucky I am to have clean water, and how I hate drinking water but love the sound it makes when it sloshes around in my water bottle, and the way the rain sounds when it hits my window...and the little streaks it leaves. And how the high-pressure mode in the car wash makes me really happy because I like the way the water sounds when it hits my almost invisible windows.

Maybe I never really grew out of my strange fascination for the liquid I love to stare at but hate to drink. Maybe the relationship just got complex enough that I forgot how much I loved the simple things.

A Great And Terrible Stranger, Summer.

The recent, warm Minnesota weather has made me a little nostalgic. I remember hot and humid summer days from my childhood.



I spent them playing outside with my brother, and our friends. We would climb the tallest tree we could find and jump from the roof of the shed in our backyard.

We would take old cardboard boxes to a big grassy hill and "sled" down on them. (We even walked back UP the hill to do it all again). We would ride our bikes to the PX and buy french fries and melted cheese :)



We would save our allowance all month to buy a beanie baby and some pokemon cards. We did extra chores for extra money, and sold popsicles and lemonade.

We went rollerblading. We went bowling. We caught snakes and spiders. We had pet rocks. We drank water from a hose. We rode a wagon down the hill and hit the side of our house :) We came in when the street lights came on.

We didn't have cell phones. We checked in with Mom every now and again or had to call from the nearest friend's house. We played baseball in the yard, tried to catch turtles at the pond, and played night games. We played tag, chase, dead man walking, "town", jump rope.

We (at least Kam and I) even found a way to make yard work fun.

We didn't wear shoes if we didn't have to. We swam and played in the sprinkler. We hiked through the woods near our house, built forts, had wars with people who aligned themselves with different forts.

Even during the school year, we just wanted to be outside. We were outside when we waited for the bus. We wanted to play outside at recess. We came home and wanted to be outside until it was dark.

We even wanted to play in the rain. And sometimes...we did.

It makes me sad to watch how kids these days don't do any of that. They are inside all the time. There will be no memories of broken bones and cardboard box adventures. They won't look back and say "remember when we played freeze tag in our backyard?" There will be no taste of hose water lingering in their mouths, no memories of being muddy and dirty.

Instead, kids today live in a sterile and controlled environment. Hand sanitizer every 3 seconds. Filtered water. Cell phones and electronics that confine them in their rooms, basements, friends houses, cars.

It feels like summer has become a great and terrible stranger.