I just paid $7.45 cents for a café mocha.
Since when did that become normal?
Didn’t that used to be the price of a meal?
As I sit at a metal aluminum desk staring out the window at scaffolding and a metal and glass structure.
I am sitting next to a pilot. I feel kind of special, sitting next to someone who is responsible for people’s lives. Weren’t pilots’ women’s fantasies at one time?
What is it, the uniform, the importance, the surrender to let them manipulate us across the open sky? Definitely sexy. Although this one is rather old and not at all sexy, and I’m secretly hoping he doesn’t glance over at this writing as he’s only 3 feet away.
Every time I travel between France and the US, it gives me this weird moment in time. I’m not here or there, I’m in between. The time zone is off, my body is off, my brain feels slightly off, I’m kind of floating between security and passport controls.
I thought I lost my passport, I just arrived to Chicago from Dublin. I ran to the bus that took me to the terminal and asked the driver to check, the bus was full. They made everyone get off the bus grumbling.
It wasn’t there. I checked my bag again, there it was. I informed the bus assistant, he just nodded his head disapprovingly, I thought he would congratulate me for being so flighty to have not found it the first time.
Chicago. Maybe they’re not as fun as Californians’.
Isn’t it funny how we make assumptions about a whole city based on a few people we meet or know?
For me Chicago is filled with Black people, kind of tough, super humid and lots of junk food.
In Dublin, it was full of people with great accents, one guy asked if he could help me lift up my suitcase, I told him “I am technically strong enough, thank you.” I wonder if I was refusing his gallantry and resorting to my feminist, I can do everything a man can do attitude. I felt bad and almost wanted to apologize to him for not letting him feel important.
Based on him, I’m assuming all Irish men are gallant and friendly. Although he wasn’t red headed and cute as I heard they were supposed to be. I did see Irish people drinking beer in the airport, so at least that fits the stereotype.
Ok, so where’s the moral of the story? Why are you reading all the way to here, what’s the clincher!?
I don’t know I’m trying to find it as I write.
I just watched a movie on the plane about a writer, now I want to be one too today.
I made a discovery, on the plane my general rule is I reevaluate my life, clean out my phone and computer and write out a new business project.
Today when meditating, I was told to slow down.
I’m not supposed to come up with a new project, no new business plan, no new life change. Nope. Just live things fully as they are with the intention that life is going to open up the direction towards what my deepest service will be in the world.
My friend came with me to open dance in the park the other day, she felt shy. She said “ok, I’m just going to sit here for 20 mins. and judge everybody, then I’ll be fine.”
So, I’m just going to finish judging everyone too, and be ok with that, so that maybe I can move on and let life enchant me once again.