singing mountains, shouting rocks
So here I sit in the lobby of the Bozeman Holiday Inn, surrounded by lots and lots of wood and not a single, breathing soul except for the guy behind the front desk who is pretending not to look at me, but who I peek at every few minutes and catch staring in my direction. Could be that he is wondering why the heck this girl is sitting here at 12:30 am, typing and pausing and typing and pausing, as if she actually has something meaningful to offer?
Isn't it funny -- me, the girl who used to be anti-technology and an advocate of real letters instead of e-letters -- sneaking out of my hotel room (leaving my mom safely dozing in bed) to come get my fix of a few moments in front of a computer screen. What has become of me? I was perfectly happy this week with no internet (and almost no tv), but then I spotted the computer when we were checking in tonight ... and it was like I was powerless to the force. Yikes.
I really should go to bed (since it's actually 2:30 am in my body's usual time zone), so I'll keep this short. But just let me say ... Montana. Wow. This place is amazing. I think I may have found a new favorite state. AND the great thing ... you can listen to country music, and even have it audible when you're pumping gasoline, and people actually look at you and smile instead of writing you off as some kind of redneck freak. Yes, I admit, I am a closet country music fan. I love the stuff. And I'm not just talking about Wilco and Uncle Tupelo and Sun Volt and all the other "alt-country" stuff ... I'm talking trucks and women leaving and fishing songs, and twang and drawls -- the real thing.
Yeah, the mountains and the plateaus and the neverending skies are pretty cool too. The other night I actually watched the stars come out. Seriously, I sat on the porch of our cabin and witnessed single dots of light appear in the sky. Needless to say, I had a pretty good chat with God that night about how awesome He is.
Well, I'm off to wish a good night to the frightened front desk clerk. Until next week ...
leaving on a jet plane
It's 8:30 on a Friday night, and I am in my office at work. Someone help me. It's just me and the spiders on my windowsill. Good times.
Ok, I think my desk is finally cleared off, so I can have a clear conscience tomorrow when I board a plane for ... Montana. Seriously, I'm going to Montana. Just for the heck of it. I have always wanted to go there (ok, not always, but for a long time), and now I am. Big skies, here I come.
So I won't be around for a while. I'm sure you'll all miss me terribly, but try to keep on going. Stay alive.
flatulent dogs and the French mafia
Every Tuesday night is "movie night" for my friends and I. We meet at the nostalgic diner just blocks from my apartment, slurp away at milkshakes like they used to make 'em back in the day, and spend an inexpensive evening out.
Just 3 bucks gets us into the old-fashioned cinema across the street, where we sit in a small theater (the only one in the place, and no stereo sound here) and enjoy two movies for the price of half of one at a modern cinema megaplex. The movies last night were "Les Triplets de Belleville" and "The Ladykillers." I had seen previews for the second movie, but I knew nothing about the first one. But it was movie night, and I don't like to break from tradition ...
Hot dog, I don't think I have enjoyed a movie so much in quite a while. (And no, I don't usually use the phrase "hot dog" in my every day existence -- it just came out, and it seems to capture the feeling.) There was virtually no dialogue, and not too much depth to the storyline. But it was just a fun movie. I think at least part of my enjoyment was due to my environment. There I sat in a rickety old theater chair, having paid only $1.25 for the lemonade-iced tea that I was sipping, watching an animated film with a large dog with gas issues who had a propensity to bark at trains. How much more simple can a pleasure get?!?!?! I loved the music too -- it added to the overall mood of the film (which I can't really put my finger on, but I loved). I could go ahead and try to analyze what it was that I liked about the movie, and all of the various artistic influences and blah blah blah ... but I'll just say I liked it. It was good. It was fun. It was more than worth my $1.50.
feedback
This is a new thing for me. I've never done this whole blog thing before. I've always been a writer, and I've always enjoyed writing my thoughts out so that I can look back at them later and wonder what could possibly have been going on in my head ... but I rarely share those thoughts with other people. That would make me ... vulnerable ... and unmysterious (as if I'm mysterious in the first place).
Anyway, just thought I'd write a short bit about something that happened today. I went for a walk during lunchtime. I work downtown, and it's not unusual to bump into the occasional person asking for money. Well, I had been walking along, nice and absorbed in my life and all the "important" details of it, and I hear a gruff, "excuse me, miss -- can you spare some change?" I turned and saw a fella who looked a bit familiar. And then I realized, it was the same man I had seen the night before when I was stopping in to my new favorite local coffee place. We repeated the previous night's conversation, in which I told him I didn't really want to give him money, but I would be happy to buy him a meal. To my surprise, Ronald (I found out his name) accepted. (Last night, he got upset and insisted that he didn't need food -- he needed money to get his OWN dinner and catch the bus home). Anyway, we chatted for a bit and he apologized for his behavior the night before. I apologized for mine as well ... of course, he was unaware of the thoughts I had as I pulled away in my clean dry car, and left him to stand on the damp, dirty sidewalk -- basically something self-righteous to the effect of "What an ungrateful person! Here I am, offering to help him, and he is insisting on his own way!"
A good real-life illustration of this quote I just read: "What we do can speak so loudly that what we say can't be heard." (Tom Keller) There was some major feedback happening from what I was saying ("Here you go -- God bless you.") to what my actions were saying ("I'll help you, but let's make it quick and easy, alright, buddy?") Isn't it great to get second chances after we act so much like our true selves that we're ashamed? :)
