deer

This morning on my usual drive, the car in front of me slowed almost to a stop right after having passed through Toftrees, but before passing the mansion. There's forest (or at least part of one) on either side of the road right there, but at first I thought the person was slowing down because of the speed limit. True, that section's a downgrade, and it's easy to speed accidentally, but that kind of slowing was ridiculous, I thought.

Then I saw the deer bounding into the forest in front of the car. Nice catch, I thought, and proceeded forward slowly after it did.

The one place I've hit a deer wasn't too far away, both distance-wise and time-of-the-year-wise. If my next turn had been left toward the airport instead of right toward campus, I would've been headed in the right direction on the same curvy backwoods highway it first happened on.

It was Halloween a few years ago, if I remember correctly. L. was in the car with me, dressed up as a Flemish nobleman. I don't remember if I'd gotten dressed up yet or not. We were on our way to pick up J. from the airport, after some conference of his. I was cruising fast around a corner, and saw it standing stock still in the headlights. I slowed fast, but still bumped it head-on going around 30-35, if I were to guess.

It was a young one, and I'd thankfully bumped it off the road. I stopped, put my flashers on, made sure L. and I were both all right, got out, looked at it--still moving, though barely--looked at my car, couldn't see any dents in the dark, and tried to figure out what to do--all while adrenaline was coursing through my system like mad. In the meantime, an older car cruised to a stop a few yards in front of me. A man got out, and came back to talk to us, to make sure we were all right. Once he ascertained the reason we were stopped, his questions turned toward the "are you going to call anyone?" and "are you going to report this to your insurance?" variety. I couldn't figure out why he was asking these things until he asked if we minded if he took the deer.

The guy wanted the meat. After some bantering, including debate about whether or not it was dead and him providing me with his phone number in case I wanted a cut, he picked up the young deer (I was struck with the fact that there was no blood, just dead deer) and slung it on top of his trunk (as if he'd done this sort of thing before), then drove away slowly. L. and I looked at each other. For me, it took a few beats before I grasped the absurdity of the situation. I still shake my head about it.

So I'm left with a minor divot in my hood that most people don't notice unless they're really looking (which is why I couldn't see it in the dark), and a story, though a relatively short and not especially exciting one, at that.

another day, another drive

Another gorgeous drive this morning. Dark clouds dominated the landscape, except for one break that hit the rise of mountains I was heading towards (and then traveling next to) this morning. The mansion I pass on the drive had sunlight slanting into it, hard. Mount Nittany was in shadow, though, as it's on the opposite side of the valley--the sun usually peeks over a mountain right next to it in the morning. I should really learn the name of the range on the opposite side. I've lived here, what? Four and a half years, and I still don't know the names in local geography as well as I should. Though few people, other than hikers, really know those names, I don't think. Nor do they come up often in conversation.

I listened to 90s punk on the way in today. Better than five cups of coffee in the morning. Though I haven't tried it, I wonder if some Thelonious Monk might work as well--but differently, of course. Then again, that may just cause me to be a little off-rhythm all day.

I think I'm going a little too fast for my co-workers at this hour. Hopefully, after their coffee, they'll catch up to me. Though I rarely have trouble getting up to speed in the morning, and I don't drink coffee. I don't even drink tea regularly, though I have tons of it in my office. Well, tons probably isn't the right word. I've got a selection of at least six off the top of my head, though. I'd say I should get back to drinking it, but I've never really liked having caffeine in my system--nor do I like seeing the effects of not having it once you're dependent on it (headaches for no good reason other than not having had caffeine are not pretty). Nor do I usually have any trouble getting up and moving in the morning, thankfully. It's sustaining it through the normal afternoon dip that's a challenge. I'm optimistic about today, though. I feel like I've gotten enough sleep, for once.

scent memory

This morning, while walking from my car to my building, I caught a whiff of Denmark.

I'm not kidding.

While I lived there, for part of the time I lived near a gelatin factory out in the country. The smells that came out of that place were fascinating: rotting fish and orange peel (which I found not as unpleasant as it sounds), and this tinge that doesn't smell quite like anything else, but other things sometimes smell just a little bit like it--enough to bring it to mind. That happened not half an hour ago.

My aunt (who was born in Denmark, as was my Dad) asked me after I got back if I missed the smell. She said the smell there is different than here, and she was right. I imagine it has something to do with the land being surrounded by water so closely (we all lived on Sjælland, one of Denmark's many islands, during our separate times there). I'm sure, though, that the Denmark she had in her scent memory is different than the one I have in mine--the time we spent there was separated by about fifty years, and even though Denmark is quite environmentally conscious, I'm certain development had an effect on air quality. At the same time, I'm reassured by that connection to her: that I recognized something in her land of birth that she remembered, and missed.

Shortly after she passed away, I moved here. In the early days here, I kept smelling her perfume, with no discernable reason for it to be in the area. She wore Pheremone, I believe, exclusively. I kept catching whiffs of it in hallways and stairwells across campus, once very powerfully in the stairwell of the building my office was in. I made an entry about it at the time, and someone commented that it seemed like I was being haunted by her. But I know now that wasn't the case--she would never do that, not in the way that most people think of haunting, anyway. Yes, she was in my mind a lot (still is), and yes, there were things left unresolved that make me sad even now, but she wouldn't deliberately haunt me. Though if anyone could, I'd believe she could. She was that sort--spiritual, connected, but ultimately practical. I'd believe that she'd hover, observe, sometimes take a gentle step to help (which sometimes I believe she has), but not haunt, not like all that's come to mean.

I miss her.

Outside this morning, trying to pin down the scent that evoked the memory, I drew in deeply, and though it still niggled at my mind, couldn't find it again. It had left as quickly as it had arrived, escaping me entirely. But I'm still dwelling on it, and all it had brought to mind.

There's so much I miss, but I'm also so glad for all I have. (Yes, I mean you, Dad, among many other things and people. I wish I could give you a hug right now. Much love. -A.)

not sneezing, snowing

The sneezing I mentioned yesterday turned to snow, proper. It snowed most of the day, though it had calmed down by the time I left work at six o'clock last night. Evidently, Hurricane Wilma (yes, that's Wilma, with a W. We've already had a Tropical Storm Alpha--that means they ran through almost the entire alphabet [they leave out the difficult naming letters, otherwise every hurricane when we went that far would be named Xavier] and came all the way back to the front) decided to join forces and give us some remarkably unseasonable weather, dubbed "SuperStorm 2005" by AccuWeather, though it wasn't so Super. From the forecast I linked above, I assumed today would be just as bad, if not worse, so I bundled up before heading out this morning. Sweater, trusty toggle/duffle coat, etc--expecting that I'd have to brush off my car and all. I walked out into a bright, surprisingly warm morning, the sun coming up at an angle under low, dark clouds.

The snow had almost entirely melted around my place, except for little bits near curbs and the edges of our lawn. Driving in, there was still snow atop The Village at Penn State (more info), but anyplace the sun had touched was bare. Most of the drive, I was entertained by watching the waving of a little yellow leaf stuck in the remnants of the snow under my windshield wipers.

On campus, the sun (just peeking over Mount Nittany) reflected off the all-glass newest expansion to Beaver Stadium. I tried to get a quick shot of it while I was in line at the three-way stop, but my camera battery died at an inopportune moment.

The field hockey/lacrosse field that I can see from my office window is still pretty well covered in snow, though it's melting rapidly. Work's getting steadily accomplished in between typing sentences in this thing, though some of it's on hold due to me having to babysit my phone for the next few hours (phone duty, you know). Today's another pumpkin-scented day, though I'm feeling more parenthetical today than yesterday (I think).

sneezing

It's sneezing out there. No, seriously. It's not sleet, it's not snow. It's not quite freezing, either. It's sneeze.

It's snow (sort of) until it hits the windshield and melts, or until it hits the ground and turns into rainpuddle.

J. wants me to take a picture of Mount Nittany in fog. I've seen so many variations of that lately, but none that are photo-worthy. It's always been raining (doesn't make for a clear shot), or I've been late to work and didn't have time to go to a good spot to shoot it from.

Nor have I really found the right vista from which to take it, although the new Outreach Building out at Innovation Park has a fantastic view from the third floor conference room, I found out on Friday. We were kind of doing a preliminary meeting (hour and a half long, and we didn't even finish what all we could have covered) to see if we might be able to share info/knowledge about how to/what we're doing online. I found it useful, but I'm not sure the rest of the team did.

In any case. I'm at work, getting stuff done (well, not right now, but soon), I smell like pumpkin (thanks to Bath and Body Works' Pumpkin Body Butter and one of the Pumpkin Patches from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab), and all is right with the world. Other than the major sneezing going on outside.

prelude to winter

Today belonged in the middle of winter somewhere. I'm sure its spirit was there, somehow. All day, a low, grey blanket of clouds covered the area, barely letting a wan half-light through.

I woke to little light outside. I drove back in similar dimness. My usual corner of campus was quiet.

I blame the weather.

changes in the Valley

On the way out to see Serenity, the clouds were hanging so low that Mount Nittany was mostly obscured. That sounds impressive until you note that our mountains aren't really all that high--it's just that the clouds were really that low.

The leaves are starting to turn. Most of the valley has at least brushes of yellow and orange, though the color hasn't started climbing the mountains yet.

There was one car in the parking lot when I arrived at about ten to noon. Just call it a quiet morning in Happy Valley. Quiet because most are probably sleeping in after last night's important win against Ohio State.

Most of the time State College's football habit is just a source of background noise to me. This year, due to excited co-workers (and a much better record than we've had in years), the noise is much more clear. And I have to admit it's kind of cool. An old student of mine made the partially game-winning last sack, cited by ESPN as the "It was over when . . ." of the game. For example.

But on the way back home last night, around midnight, I saw the glow of the stadium against the low-lying clouds and all I could think was "light pollution." So I suppose that football fever hasn't really caught me, quite.

On the way back from the movie today, the clouds had lifted some. The top of Mount Nittany was visible again, and things still seemed quiet. Happy Valley's sleeping extra late.

Lucky

I'm tired, and should be in bed by now. But I know I haven't written here in awhile, and I have a few things I wanted to note.

Preparing to, and then actually visiting A. in New York City, as well as trying to catch up on all I've missed while I was away, has been a bit taxing. I think I've finally managed it, though.

Right now, I feel very lucky. I'm in a good space, but so much not-as-good to downright bad is going on around me that I don't feel like I deserve it.

Frankly, Hurricane Katrina kicked this off. I've got a friend (who started off as an Internet acquaintance, but we did meet once in person, and I do consider him a friend by now) who had just moved to New Orleans. Luckily (though he might argue this one), he was out of town at the time, and, for that matter, had moved into an area that escaped relatively unscathed.

Then it got even more personal. My cousin's oldest daughter--a mere 13-year-old, by memory--started getting migraines. They eventually took her in and did an MRI, which found something (undefined, of course). They decided to do a biopsy, which happened recently. During that procedure, they figured out that her optical nerve and her pituitary gland were both twice the size that they should be. She has since gone blind in one eye. The decision of what to do and the results of the biopsy should be in this week, I'd expect. If you have spare good vibes to send, she could use them.

Tonight, I learned that a gaming bud's house burned down about a week ago, taking his car with it. You can actually see his car burning in the background of the picture here. He was on the first floor, and got out relatively easily, luckily.

Then the earthquake in Pakistan caught my attention. I know these things happen all the time--from the fire effecting only a few people to the gigantic tragedies--but it hits me no less, sometimes. I'm very glad to be happy, warm, safe, and sound. Just a bit ago, I emailed a friend from college back and explained a bit about my job. I may repost that here, just to give folks a bit of a reference point. Right now, though, I'm going to sleep, so that I can hopefully catch up with some local friends for a noon showing of Serenity.

It's the small things.

school counselors and professionalism

Having just taken a call, I have to just drop a quick note here to say that in general, I love dealing with high school counselors. They're direct, they know what they want, and can quickly get to whatever it is. They understand the situation: generally, admissions counselors don't make the rules--someone higher on the chain does. It's also nice to be able to speak plainly, without having to worry about disappointing the person on the phone. It's also helpful that most of the time, I've got nothing for them but additional encouragement. It may not be what the student really wants to hear, but it's nice to be able to counsel many options, rather than just "no," and nice to do so in a professional fashion, rather than deal with the emotional that many students and parents get (understandably, given the enormity of a college decision, of course).

Also, in campus news today, a black bear was found in the heart of campus around 2 a.m.

I almost left the house with my slippers still on this morning.

I caught myself stepping out the door with them, shook my head at myself, and stepped back in to switch over to my Børn dress shoes (which I need to polish up some), which my Dad bought for me. My summery dress Børn, mind, not this pair of Børn (also bought for me by my Dad, by the by--among the reasons I love him is that he keeps me in Danish shoes).

I took a bath right before I went to bed last night, and I feel much better for it--yesterday was a long day with a late meeting. I didn't get home until almost seven, although I stopped on the way home at Target and Wegman's. That bath, though, resulted in a feeling of extreme softness this morning--so extreme that it makes me feel vulnerable. But good, and that's the important part, I guess. More balanced, at the very least. More ready for what the day has in store.

That bath also meant I could read more of The Emperor of Scent, and follow Luca Turin's footsteps further. I've caught up with him in real time, so to speak: I've found and also been following his blog. The way the author of the book (not the blog, although Turin has a similar artistry with words) describes complex science and theory using metaphor really makes me think that I would've learned much more in the realm of science if I'd only had teachers that could use that sort of method. The usual mode just never grabbed me like this does. I'd hesitate to call it a page-turner, because it's not that sort of book, but it's certainly interesting enough to stick with (and having started and abandoned lots of books in the last few years, that's saying something).

So I drove to work, wrapped in my long black sweater because it was really nippy yesterday morning, although this morning wasn't as bad. But that sweater is cozy. And on the way, I saw the second hot air balloon aloft that I've seen this week, and the third this month. It was cruising toward campus with me. I took some shots of it while I was at stop lights and signs and such, a few of which were taken from almost right underneath it. I may be able to post these later.

I'm on phones for a couple hours this morning starting at 8, so I'd best switch gears. Although it's been relatively quiet on duty for us counselors, that'll change next month, and increase as the months pass, before settling down some in spring. I've also got a web project going up in two days that I need to get cracking on, so I'd best put the time toward that if I have it.

I feel parenthetical this morning. Need to quash that before I get on with it.

Hi Dad!

Dad just called a bit ago to tell me he'd read through this whole thing. And liked it, which was rather gratifying. He said that it was good to learn some of the things I'd written up here. I frankly hadn't realized--or rather, had forgotten--how much I do reveal here. It's also nice to know that I'm not just talking into a void. So now I've got, what, two people following along? Speak up, if there are others. I like to know who's tagging along for the ride.

Because this entertains me: last Friday, walking back from dinner at Outback, J. kicked a flower right off at the stem. I complained at him, so he bent over and gave it to me, claiming that's what he meant to do (yeah, right). Silly plant-lover that I am, I took it home and stuck it in the water glass I had at my desk. It kept blooming, and one of the other buds started opening. By now, the original bloom has died, crumpling in on itself, and yesterday or the day before, I was tempted to pitch it. Instead I decided to just add water, and lo and behold, the other bud has continued to open. Brilliant! As a side note, my avocado plants, planted about a year or so ago, are both well on their way to becoming trees. The one in my room is growing up and out in three branches, and the one in my office is just going straight up, although both are leaning pretty horrendously toward the light. I love coaxing flowers/plants to do their thing.

Silly J. Fear my green thumb! (which only sometimes works, of course, but it's neat when it does!)

Photo graphy (space intentional)

I'm thinking of adding some photo- graphy here, perhaps from my old macro set (a year-long project I still adore).

If you'd like to see more, comment quickly, before I end up deleting this post entirely.

Much love.

Because I'm in that sort of a mood.

- Anne

weekend update

Posting while my brain's still spinning up for the day, so please forgive the near-list format.

Just finished my breakfast of blueberries and put another load of laundry in. Watched an episode of "How it's Made" on the Science channel explaining the growing of mushrooms and the making of gold rings (J.'s watching it--I virtually never watch TV on my own). Way more education than I'm used to in about the first half hour after I've awoken properly for the day.

That's right. I got up at 1 p.m. I was also up until 2:30 a.m. Not doing anything exciting, mind you, but working on various projects--of which I've got far too many. Last night's was weeding out my collection of magazine clippings. Those I would've tossed went to L., who I assume will put them to good artistic use (because he's good at that sort of thing). He'll be getting more and more as I go through them. He already carried a couple pounds with him back to his car last night, which was parked about a half mile away. Silly L.

This sleep-in is remarkable because for a good couple months, I haven't been able to sleep past 11 on Sundays, often getting up at 8 or 9, which irked me to no end considering that I often stay up until 2:30 or later the night before. I blame it on the fact that I would wake up, and the things I had to do that day would be running through my head, until I gave up and got up and started doing them. With an extra day (Labor Day) in which to do things, my brain didn't torture me too much this morning, although I did go out at around 10 and rang our neighbor's doorbell, to ask if she could keep the six five-year-olds upstairs on a sleep-over from running and jumping on something directly above my head as I was trying to get back to sleep.

And in this case, I feel I was justified. I'm sick. Properly so, although I suspected at first it was just the usual runny nose that accompanies the shift to fall (and thus my allergies kicking in). Not the case. Instead of going to what would have been my first tailgate ever (surprising, perhaps, given where I live), hosted and attended by colleagues at the Admissions office, I went to the doctor and got antibiotics for what she said (wonderful doctor, by the way, but unfortunately her usual practice is way out of my way--she just happened to be in my usual clinic to cover a Saturday) was a sinus infection. And if I didn't think so beforehand, I definitely know so now. I won't go into details, though. It wouldn't be pretty.

In the shower, I listened to Joy Division's Permanent, which has been in my CD player in the bathroom for awhile now. Which may say something, but not as much when you consider that I only listen to that stereo on the weekends, when I know I won't wake the roomie with the volume. I often forget, until I listen to that album again, that Joy Division first did "Dead Souls." I will forever associate that song with The Crow. Random thanks to R. for introducing me to that soundtrack in high school, before I'd ever seen the movie or, for that matter, thought that goth was cool.

In the car, I've got the new Conjure One CD, which I'm a little disappointed with. They strayed away from the exotic tone of their last album, which is what I enjoyed about it most. On the good side, I'm pretty sure Poe is back doing at least one vocal, although she's not credited anywhere in the liner notes. But I'm enjoying most of it.

On the text end, I just finished National Geographic's Perfume: The Art and Science of Scent, and I'm moving on to The Emperor of Scent : A Story of Perfume, Obsession, and the Last Mystery of the Senses, two very different books, though both handle on the same subject, and both are wonderfully written. And that subject, of course, is oh-so-appropriate right now, given that I can't smell a damn thing.

I've decided that I'm going to decorate my bathroom in CDs, after finding a hanging holder that displays them rather nicely (cheaply, but nicely) at Target. I hope to go back and find more of them, since I only bought one. Off to go do so.

soup

Can I just rave about soup for a moment?

Lunch today: Tuesday's leftover wild rice soup from Stone Soup. Still incredible, even reheated.

Dinner tonight: fresh smoked trout chowder also from Stone Soup. And awesome smoked trout it is. Thick, flavorful--can't beat it. There's also wild rice in this particular soup, which makes me wonder if Tom's using leftovers, or if he just got on a kick.

I rediscovered wild rice awhile back. That's also when I figured out that we don't get much of it around here. The stuff I've been buying comes from Texas, and is mixed with white. Requesting some of the real thing from my dad, back Wisconsin way, didn't come up with much either. Then again, most of the real wild rice I remember loving and seeing in the store often came from Minnesota.

The soup chef of Stone Soup, Tom Everly of Keystone Yankee Catering, is taking the next two weeks off, which is why I stopped by to grab some while I could (normally, I only head over there during lunch). This, of course, right after yet another of my coworkers (in this case, my grandboss) says he wants to go down there with me to grab some soup for lunch next Thursday. I've got four on the line at the moment, and with this break, they'll likely forget all about it in the interim. But I won't. I'll be over in my office just waiting for its return.

reading aloud

When I was little, I used to love being called on in class to read aloud. Now, though, I've lost those skills entirely. This was realized after trying to read the report of a friend of mine who just moved to New Orleans aloud to my roommate. I stumbled over simple (and sometimes ironic) words, words like "inadequate."

I blame this on adult impatience. And, I suppose, the fact that I don't read for really extended periods anymore, like I used to. But when it comes to the impatience, I just want to get to the end of the sentence. My brain is trying to go forward, skim through sentences as I do when I'm speed-reading. The fact that my speech is slower than my reading speed is not something my mind is used to, or comfortable with, so it just tries to keep up. Which, of course, doesn't work.

On a completely separate note, the students are definitely back, bringing with them all the baggage they carry from all different parts of the U.S. and the world. Although I haven't interacted with many, I know because, as happens every fall to some extent at one point or another, I can feel myself getting sick. Joy.

misty morning

This morning I stepped out into a very close world. Fog had set in overnight, creating a blanket clutched tight around us. Sometimes it loosened, but only very little.

I have a coworker who appreciates sunlight, and I could hear her protest already as I got into my car, but I knew it wouldn't impact me much. "It's a lovely morning," I'd reply, if she mentioned it.

And it is. The mist highlights spiderwebs built in patches at the top of the grass along the sides of the road. It masks the industrial chimneys occasionally seen pumping out steam on the horizon. It softens the arrival of about 40,000 students.

Classes start on Tuesday. I'm half thankful for the students' return, and half irritated by it. Their awkward and often lost arrival disrupts the easy flow of summer here. I admit it: I've become a townie. Then again, in the four years I've lived here, I've always felt like one. It's just that they descend like geese--loud, obnoxious, and often shitting all over the place an awful lot. When one gets detached from the flock, they make an awful racket of being lost.

I do understand all this, of course. I've been there myself. And I'm certainly generalizing--this is no one person I'm describing. It's the mass. And it's no one's fault. It's just an inconvenience, interrupting a comfortable flow and (gasp) evoking change.

I love academia. I do. Being surrounded by this many brilliant and becoming-brilliant people is invigorating. But I have to admit the return of students and introduction of a new batch can be both immensely hopeful and depressing. I see drive and spirit, and it's lovely and refreshing, but in the back of my head, the cynic in me starts making bets about how long it will take for that to be driven out of them. Somehow, I hope that students will avoid my mistakes, for example, but of course I wish that for them without being able to say what, exactly, those were.

Gosh. All this makes me sound like I'm becoming older and wiser, doesn't it?

Laugh while you can.

cities: addendum

I also meant to write briefly about how I really should be taking more advantage of the natural resources available to me in the area here, but (how appropriate) forgot.

Basically, I really enjoy trees, forests, streams, etc. But I don't see enough of them. My drive to work is the majority of my interaction, which is sad, and should be rectified. Again, though, I have to fight with the time issue.

Better to be too busy than to be bored, I suppose.

cities

So on my way in to work this morning, driving with my wrists crossed, hands kind of hanging out at the top of the wheel, under a blue sky liberally studded with puffy cumulonimbus clouds with airy white tops and starting-to-look-threatening bottoms, sunlight peeking through the leaves of the thick trees I drove through, my mind dispensed this quick little notion:

It was definitely good to go, but it's certainly good to be back.

Although I'm fascinated by some of the features of American cities on a temporary basis, I don't particularly care for them in the long run, and Indianapolis is no exception. Yes, the architecture can be neat. But the traffic and trying to get around is a pain.

European cities, on the other hand, I don't think I'd have as much of a problem with. I have Copenhagen in mind, of course. But this is a longer subject for another time.

So, to summarize the trip: good (if sometimes overly complicated and drama-filled though alternately nice to re-connect and make new connections) time there, but good to be here, too.

(I just realized that the parenthetical there doesn't make that very succinct. Oh, well.)

small towns

So I just got back from the post office.

I just realized this actually requires some prefacing. How odd. Here goes: I've found myself involved in an online swapping community. We swap various things--mostly scents, bath and body nonsense, that sort of thing, but also going out to handmade crafty things like painted boxes (which I gave a basic whirl about a month ago) and jewelry and such. I recently learned chainmaking via chain maille techniques, and only have the very basics under my belt. But one of the fine ladies on that forum wanted a charm bracelet, and most of the work I've done in the medium was something that is usually used as a base for a charm bracelet. She actually wanted to buy, not swap, once she saw a photo of the piece. So thus I got my first $25 (although I only asked $20) for a handmade item. So I sent it out, and she got it, and she likes it. Go me. That little bout of attention-deficit was entirely beside the point.

The point to the preface is that I find myself sending out little packages all the freaking time. When it's what we consider an even swap, it only costs me the postage (fifty cents, usually), and I get to try something new. Otherwise, I usually get reimbursed the postage. This cost analysis again brought to you by my lack of focus today, which is sometimes the case for me on Mondays, given that I usually get about four hours sleep the night before.

Okay. Let's try this again. I went to the post office in a nearby town, as that post office is a lot less busy than is State College's (notoriously long lines, and at lunchtime? forget about it). This town is nestled against Mount Nittany, and has a rather lovely little strip. My point here is that it's a tiny town (whoops, digressing again). So I was at their little post office, sending out three little packages, and on my way out, noticed that someone had left their car running while they ran in.

Then I realized that as soon as I stopped living with my dad, I had taken for granted that I'd never again live in a town where it's safe to do that. And I don't now. But it's neat to know that it exists, and so close by. I wouldn't do it there, but that's probably because I know how small towns work, and I'm not part of that small town. It's not that I think the people there wouldn't look out for me like they would their fellow residents, but that they don't know me well enough to get in touch with me if they needed to, or know whether or not I'd welcome the help.

Given that I moved from my dad's village to Beloit for college, which has really shady areas that are not safe--South Beloit being even worse--the switch to becoming more paranoid when it came to my car's security was a natural one. A good friend there had his car broken into while parked in the same lot I parked in all the time. That's not to say that Beloit's horrible, especially in the area around the college, but--well, stuff happens.

And stuff happens here in State College, too. Nothing I can think of has hit so close to home here, though. And S.C. has been rated the best small city in terms of crime. That study even states: "In particular, the burglary and auto theft rates are among the nation's lowest." But now that my concern for my vehicle was raised in college, I can't really go back. I have a friend who has a very low concern when it comes to security. I see that friend leave things unlocked all the time, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Heck, I even lock my computer when I leave my desk at work.

The moral of the story? I'm perhaps overly paranoid. But we knew that. On the other hand, it's probably better to be on the safe side. But in either case, it's nice to live near places where people aren't as concerned. It makes me feel better. (and on another non-focused moment note: I also adore that my commute takes all of fifteen minutes, tops.)

a useful metaphor

Tonight I rediscovered the secret to my practice of yoga:

Work, but don't push.

I think that may become a metaphor for lots of other pieces of my life.

(and man, does every piece of my body feel better due its rediscovery.)