Letter Never Sent

1. Sounding dirty: Went to the dentist today for the first time in a long while and was orally violated with x-rays, cameras, cheek spreaders, and sharp hooks a-scraping. I learned a few things. Namely that I’m a “grinder”, apparent by the wear on my rear molars that has made them flatter than normal. This is could be caused by my bite, which is “open” meaning my front and back teeth touch at the same time. Normally when you bite down your front teeth should touch and your back teeth should have a gap between top and bottom. Apparently, I also grind my teeth while sleeping. The upside is that my teeth are feeling nice and clean albeit a little sore.
2. Visited the print shop to have some envelopes done. Note to self: if I ever run a print shop it should have an organized reception area for customers with places to sit, available paper samples, and a catalog of past work they have done. At the bare minimum there should be someone on hand to guide the customer through the process. I asked so many questions I felt like I was doing their job for them. I need information on what services are available, the cost, and examples of past work. I told them I’ll see how they handle the envelopes before I bring them anything else since some of their paper cutting seemed a little ragged on the few samples available.
3. Deja vu all over again: 1967: “United States officials were surprised and heartened today at the size of turnout in South Vietnam’s presidential election despite a Vietcong terrorist campaign to disrupt the voting.”

I think sometimes I forget the actual space my body takes up or how my arms, legs, and shoulders move because I am always hitting stuff by accident. I’ll pass through a door and slam my shoulder into the door jamb or I’ll knock my hand against the corner of a wall. Yesterday when I went out for a bike ride I tried to use the tire pump that plugs into my cigarette lighter. When I got out of the car after plugging in the tire pump I somehow jerked the cord out with me and pulled the end of it completely out. Now my cigarette lighter and power door locks don’t work so it must be really broken. Maybe it blew a fuse or something. The point is, it sucks.

Today was eventful in a small and pleasant way. I met my new neighbor, a young guy who’s a police officer at the APD, and had a nice chat with him before I borrowed Jody’s bike to go riding around by myself. It was bright and sunny with an invigorating chill to the air. I rode down Lamar to Barton Creek then around the lake past all the Sunday joggers and dog walkers. Then I just explored around Zilker Park a bit enjoying the weather and the people watching. During the course of my circuit, I encountered something I had never seen or knew about before, a rail car from the Merci or Gratitude Train. Apparently, right after World War II France sent 49 train cars packed full of gifts to each state. The Gratitude train car in our state is right near the lake at the house that is now an American Legion Hall. This website has a wealth of information on the subject along with photos of many of the individual train cars from each state:

The Merci Train was a train of 49 French railroad box cars filled with tens of thousands of gifts of gratitude from at least that many individual French citizens. They were showing their appreciation for the more than 700 American box cars of relief goods sent to them by (primarily) individual Americans in 1948. The Merci Train arrived in New York harbor on February 3rd, 1949 and each of the 48 American states at that time received one of the gift laden box cars. The 49th box car was shared by Washington D.C. and the Territory of Hawaii.

Here are some photos with expository captions from my expedition.

Is it possible to be completely honest with anyone? Family, friends, loved ones? There are so many things you want to confess, but you know your words will be lost in a rush of hurt or judgment or misunderstanding. It is better to confess some things silently to yourself alone. I will be as honest as I dare, although it is just the smallest piece of the whole I keep to myself.

This is one of those things I write that each person will receive differently. Be mindful of that.

I have a tendency to distract my mind with an array of sensory stimuli. For as long as I can remember, I have not liked the dark, silence, or stillness of any kind. I habitually listen to music or talk radio while I drive or work. I like sleeping with the lights on. I feel it necessary to talk even when I have little to say. I fidget and make small movements constantly. It’s almost like I have trouble just being unstimulated or quiet. Yet, the constant stimulation and tumult exhausts me in every way. My eyes get tired and I squint from constant roving concentration. I am usually tired. One day blends into the next.

Lately, I’ve realized that I need quiet and stillness just to replenish my essential stores of energy. For the last few days I have tried driving with classical music playing quietly and it has made quite a difference. I find myself thinking about things more and remembering stuff. It’s probably obvious to most people, but it was something I had to see consciously. It is still work, but I’m trying to enjoy quiet, darkness, and stillness.

Today I messed around downtown before my brother called and we met him at Zilker to play with his pitbull, Ajax. Here’s a panoramic photo I took with my camera at Zilker. Below I’m standing in front of the Paramount Theatre. We could have gone to see ‘Jailhouse Rock’, but we were late.

Today I had a lot to do when I got home, then I got overwhelmed and rebelled against the overwhelmed feeling by… not doing what I needed to do. Sound familiar?

When I muster the initiative to start a project I’m always surprised by how smooth everything goes, but it’s only a relief in retrospect.

Staring down the barrel of a big project can unnerve you, especially if you’re already worn down to a nub. The damnable aspect of it all is that you know that you’re forestalling what will come on its own anyway, so to kill the little worrying voice you occupy it with some other less pressing responsibility or another diversion like trying to draw with the mouse in Photoshop. The pile is going to try to bury me tomorrow.

I was messing around yesterday at work and actually scratched out a few doodles. Drawing is one of those few things you can do to create an internal sense of quiet.