Last week, I received a phone call from my brother informing me that our mother wasn’t doing well. He mentioned that it’s time for us to act. We quickly discussed a plan and I decided to call my father, whom I hadn’t spoken to at length since last year in October. As I listened to the situation, I realized that it was quite serious. It’s difficult not to have an emotional reaction to the situation, and I feel deeply for what my mother is having to endure.
Today, I needed to adjust my plans, as the situation evolves. I am scrambling to find qualified resources that can provide support.
Life has a strange way of revealing itself to me. The serendipitous flow that my life often takes makes me wonder if I do indeed possess special magical skills that make anything I wish for manifest.
On my trip to Cedar Rapids for an amateur radio conference where my husband was presenting, I decided to visit Iowa City and coincidentally found myself there during the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. I didn’t know about the festival beforehand, and it was inspiring to be in the literary hub of Iowa City during the festival days. This experience made me hope to study there one day and participate in workshops with great writers.
While walking downtown, I came across the famous historical marker for “Writers in a Café” and read the poem written by Marvin Bell as Iowa City bid to become a UNESCO city of literature in 2008.
“Amid semi-trailers hauling produce grown in the deep blue-black topsoil left mid-country by an inexpressible Ice Age, there is known to be a place where words have dirt on their shoes. Where sky reaches to girdle the globe, the earth is etched by signs and portents. Many have bowed to their writing in attics and basements, at rest by the river or paused on a bridge, in the shadow of winter or eclipse, voicing local lives and affairs of state — as much by the reflections of leaves and the glow of prairie grasses left to live in the mind as by shapes in clouds or the dark news. They were here who made the sentence behave and misbehave, who added chapter and verse, and recast the myths. The café grows quiet as they write. The espresso machine lets go the steam someone may write in on the mirror. It is an impulse that survives disaster. The guns fail when surrounded by writing.”
I’ve finished packing for tomorrow. The wake-up call is scheduled for 4am, but I wanted to ensure I made an entry today. Have you ever listened to a speech that brought you back into action or motivated you to take immediate steps? I heard one today, and now I’m trying to analyze the content to replicate it and inspire others using a similar approach.
Reflections on the weekend: I ran a half-marathon in Ocala, FL, with a heat index of 104. I pushed myself through heat exhaustion symptoms and finished with my race clothing drenched as if I had just taken a dip in a pool. The drive home took an hour and twenty minutes, and I tried to rehydrate while on the road, sipping on water, Gatorade, and Sprite to ease the nauseated feeling.
Later that day, after taking a rest, I attended an inspiring Evening of Poetry hosted by the Writer’s Alliance of Gainesville. I had the pleasure of listening to two talented traveling poets, James Norman, and Daryl Gussin, as part of their 2024 Wet Heat Dry Heat Overheat Tour. Local poets also read, and I was moved by the rhythm of their words. One line that stuck with me that night was “Write it down, or you’ll forget.”
Today, I woke up with an unusually low HRV reading, prompting me to take it easy. I allowed myself to relax and complete a jigsaw puzzle while listening to an audiobook. Currently, I’m engrossed in Jon Fosse’s “The Other Name,” his repetitive prose has me completely captivated.
Overall, this weekend taught me the importance of staying properly hydrated, appreciating the power of poetry in a small group setting, and finding solace in completing a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle.
Arrival time 10:30pm: The decision to drive North was made after the lightning storm rolled East.
Estimated departure time 8:30pm: I’ve become familiar with how to navigate through the Interstate-75 traffic, but my night driving vision is getting worse.
During the drive: The light glare is amplified with the recent rain and I wonder if this will be my last drive home. I grip the steering wheel, squinting my eyes and step my foot down on the pedal, this time maintaining the speed limit.
I find myself acknowledging my solitude occasionally, like right now. I’m not complaining or trying to sound somber. I just don’t think about it often. But sometimes, I long for friendship – the kind where you can pick up your phone and call someone to share your hopes and dreams with or simply share how your day went. But then, the feeling goes away… Like when I start pondering about how humanoid robots can be deployed at a manufacturing facility or why OSHA lightning protocols designate a 10-mile radius and 30 minutes after hearing thunder to be the safe access point for returning to normal outdoor activities. Well, there it went……
The idea of synchronizing the end of one activity with the end of another is intriguing. For instance, Activity A ending must coincide with Activity B ending. This scheduling principle leads me to ponder how it could apply to life’s abstract concepts, such as whether the end of love signifies the end of all emotion. I’m attempting to draw a creative parallel here, using a concept from construction management to reflect on life’s profound themes—love, loss, grief, and so on. Admittedly, it’s a challenge. It’s far simpler to correlate tangible tasks that necessitate simultaneous completion, like the erection of an antenna tower and the pouring of concrete for its base. Both must be completed in tandem. Straightforward, indeed. Love and Loss…. perhaps not as much.
I woke up in the middle of a dream to the blaring sound of the fire alarm in the apartment building. It was around 5 am, and I knew I had to act fast. I scrambled out of my bed and hurriedly made my way to the closet to find something to wear. I didn’t want to be outside in my pajamas, so I grabbed a pair of jeans and a decent shirt. It took me about 3 minutes to put together an outfit.
As I was getting ready, I couldn’t help but hope that it wasn’t a real fire. If it was, I hoped it was far away so that I would have time to dress properly. I peeked through my window blinds to see if I really needed to evacuate. I saw my neighbors outside, waiting for the all-clear, so I decided to join them.
I made sure to grab my rings, keys, and wallet – my most valuable possessions. Standing outside, I looked back at my apartment and realized that I had only taken the things I truly valued. I felt a sense of relief, knowing that everything else in the apartment was replaceable. I love living a minimalist lifestyle.
Once the maintenance team arrived and reset the alarm, we were allowed back inside. I managed to get another hour of sleep but woke up with the thought of what I would pack in a “Go Bag.”
I am getting back to writing again, with a goal to write daily. It’s 11:11 pm as I check the time. According to numerology, this number symbolizes awakening or enlightenment, and it seems to appear in my life quite often. Today was a typical Monday filled with problem-solving activities at work and other routine tasks. I’m learning about scheduling and planning in construction management, with not much else to highlight. On my way home from my short run today, I listened to an up-and-coming American musician known as Chappelle Roan. The song ‘Good Luck Babe’ includes the lyric ‘You’d Have to Stop the World, Just to Stop the Feeling,’ and it made me stop and listen intently.
Journaling was Recommended 