hey it's snowing...

"I can't remember a time in my life when I was ever so happy. I'm learning to be grateful for all the small things that I have instead of focusing on things that I don't have." (Telia Oines 11-30-05)

Nephtalin told me this morning over coffee about laughing clubs that were started in India. You go to the club and they lead you through series of different types of laughter. Thinking of starting something like that in Seattle...

I did some blog-exploring the other day to see what other peoples' blogs are like. Man, there are a lot of really boring blogs. Now I'm feeling a little self-conscious about having a blog--is it just a venue to rant and rave? To soapbox?

My jugular was almost destroyed today as I ran past two large hounds to catch the bus. Took one by surprise as I ran past and he jumped for my neck. I kept running and the bus caught up to me before the dog did. Happy to be alive... happy to have a complete respiratory system still.

The mountains this morning were clear, snowy, and breathtaking. Around 10 a.m. it began snowing wispy little flakes, and by the time I was in class (International Political Economy) at 10:30-ish, the snow started marching down like plump little soldiers, melting away in slothful puddles on the ground.

On the plane ride back from Sacramento last weekend, I was watching the sunset out the window. The colors were one stripe of peach, one stripe of pink and one stripe of purple. Looking at the colors, I suddenly felt a strange sensation, a feeling from my distant past, of complete awkwardness and insecurity. I thought, "what in the world? What is this feeling linked to?!" After some hard thinking (furrowed brow, tongue to the left and slightly protruding), I surmised that the colors of the sunset were the EXACT colors of the backlighting on my 6th grade school photos, the year that I had 3 inch bangs, braces and a frizzy perm. No wonder those colors brought back such awkward feelings! 6th grade school photo day--that's the worst, man! But I LOVE that emotions can resurface with the most unexpected triggers. That is, unless you have PTSD or really traumatic experiences... but junior high school photos--most of us emerged unscathed from that.

Feeling really grateful that I'm not in junior high nowadays. In fact, this is probably my favorite period of life so far. Things just keep getting better, which is encouraging. 25 is a nice age to be, though some of my friends are getting cubicle-belly, which we should all try to avoid. There was an elderly couple on the plane next to me who kept holding hands and kissing each other's cheek--very gentle and endearing. They also kept asking me if we were on course to Seattle. I secretly hoped that the plane was being misguided to Hawai'i, but that didn't happen.

One of the funniest things anyone has said to me, which I just remembered recently when I saw a christmas tree:
Me: There are so many types of beauty!
He: Yes, like the beauty of christmas trees, larvae, and baby pigs.

A poem (by someone Norwegian):

At smoerrebroed er ikke mat
og kjaerlighet er ikke hat,
det er for tiden hva jeg vet
om smoerrebroed og kjaerlighet.

(That buttered bread isn't food
and that love isn't hate,
that's all I know for now
about buttered bread and love.)