Stories

Coming home this evening, I noticed a window of the apartment a few floors directly below mine was open, I estimated by 8 to 10 inches. The light was on and someone was home. The temperature outdoors was about 30 F (-1 C). I presume the person wasn't freezing, which meant they probably blasted the heat. (EDIT: I later learned from my doorman that that neighbor smokes and may have opened the window for fresh air from cigarette smoke.) Tomorrow, when it's brighter, I'll take and post pictures of how I tape my windows. All the windows in the building are double pane, but they're old and many have lost the seal around the groove where they slide, so air leaks through. Since I don't…

Last night I dreamed people actually wanted to act, themselves, personally, not just talk. Memories of dreams fade fast, so I don't remember the details, but I remember people asking, "What should I do?" with interest and curiosity instead of, with cynicism and incredulity, "What should I do?", as if there was no answer. I dreamed that people realized they had to change their lives and wanted to. I woke up realizing that most people's talk about sustainability is why they shouldn't change from behavior that they know hurts others without their consent, to excuse not changing, to blame others, to say what others should do, or some combination. I live in a world where people spend their words and activity opposing sustainability---that is, opposing…

I don't usually remember dreams, but I half woke up before the alarm this morning. I was half in the dream and half awake. In the dream I was playing with a dog like in this picture. I've never owned a brown lab, but that's the dog in my dream. I remember being about the size of the dog in the dream and the dog wasn't particularly big, so I must have been small. I was young again, pre-teen. I started petting the dog. The dog liked being petted so rubbed against me. I petted it more. It started rolling on top of me, wanting to be petted and played with. The dog and I rolled around, roughhoused, and had fun. That was the dream.…

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, a friend invited himself into a social group of mine. He was a good friend, as were the people in the other group, but at the time I wanted to keep them separate. As it turned out, my initial impulse to keep them separate was baseless. He fit in the group and everyone got along. Except for one thing. At some of the early times he joined the group, I don't know how to put it: I resented what I saw as him intruding. Whereas normally when we hung out, I'd speak openly, we'd joke around, and enjoy each other's company, while out with the other group, I'd communicate less and more perfunctorily. For a while I looked…

The other day I wrote about the Times I Cried. Those times were occasions of loss or sadness. I had also thought of I time I laughed so hard I cried. I went back and forth about including it but decided against it. I could have included it since it fit the category and the contrast might illuminate. I decided against it because I didn't think I could convey the humor. Telling why something is funny is usually a sign it isn't. The recent time I cried from laughing so hard Then a couple days later, for the first time in years, I found myself laughing so hard I cried. The muscles for smiling hurt from being unable to stop smiling while laughing. It happened…

I had the idea for this post at least a year ago. I have a list of post ideas for days when I can't think of any. This post idea has been on it as long as I can remember. When I think to write it, it makes me feel vulnerable. Does writing about me crying related to what I usually post about? Will I be sharing weaknesses? Will people see patterns I don't notice and make me feel awkward? What might people I don't know think of me? I also know the pattern of feelings like this: I feel awkward writing it, people respond that they love learning more about me for sharing, people share their similar stories and we connect more, I learn…