I came up with the title of this post based on the lyrics of one of the songs in the anime ROD the TV (ROD stands for Read or Die). Although the song is in Japanese, I believe part of the lyrics mean "nostalgic wind".

On one particular day, I was on the second floor of one of the various buildings we have on my high school campus. If there's one good thing about this campus, it's probably having a second floor. Sure, it's a hassle to get to a classroom on the second floor (and even worse if you happen to have a locker up there - unless you have classes near to the locker), but it does provide a nice view. It's a good place to people-watch. No one suspects that they are actually being observed from the top. (And I noticed for the first time that there are just a few flowers in the square area around a tree. I never really saw it before because I've usually been thinking about something else, or someone has been sitting there, blocking my view of the flowers.)

It was a pleasant day. The sky was blue, even if there weren't any impressive clouds around (I remember last year I was always staring up at the clouds when I ran during PE. A part of me got angry because I didn't have my camera around and would miss good photo opportunities, but another part of me was just glad to see something beautiful). There had been a breeze blowing. I stood by the railing and looked out at the elementary school that is next to my high school. Even if that wasn't the elementary school I attended, it still brought back a wave of longing for the old days. It's hard to remember what it was like to play on the playground every day and still feel like it wasn't enough time; and I try to remember what it was like to actually have SSR, Silent Sustained Reading, every day.

And pen pals, that was something we only had in elementary school... Just the other day, I read the story "Correspondence", about a girl named Henrietta "Henky" Evans who writes letters to a boy in South America. (He never responds, though.) I was thinking that it would be nice to have a pen pal. My mom doesn't understand what's so great about writing snail mail. She thinks it's a waste of time and money (for stamps) to write to people who live nearby. But even that's kind of nice. It's exciting getting a letter in the mail from a friend.

I wonder why we never spent a really long time in school sending letters to our pen pals. We would maybe send a letter, get a reply, and maybe send one more, maybe not. It seems like we never really kept up the correspondence for long. (And since I was young and ignorant at the time, as well as not knowing where my pen pals lived, I had to rely on the school to get my letter to my pen pal.) I really think there ought to be a program of sending letters to a pen pal for older students, like what there was in "Correspondence", not just the occasional time where you have to do it in elementary school. It would give me a little something to look forward to. And I might meet a wonderful friend.

Labels: correspondence, elementary school, high school, letter, lost art, lyrics, mail, memories, nostalgia, pen pal, rod the tv, second floor, song, view

There's this song that goes something like "I left my heart in San Francisco" (which I guess I can understand, because I think San Francisco is a nice city, despite apparently having a history of being notorious place). And I thought it was suitable considering what I was thinking about earlier.

The common belief is that being homesick will make a vacation miserable for a person. But I don't think that's necessarily the case. It's true, during the first one or two days of Yosemite, I was trying hard not to burst into desperate sobs, because I was unaccustomed to the rush of Yosemite, the horrible-smelling bathtubs, the thin walls of the tent (meaning that you could hear any loud noise being made elsewhere), and the lack of sympathy from much of the other people (judging from their excited attitudes, since I try to avoid pouring out my heart and soul to people I do not know well).

As is the unusual case here, after a few days, I realized that I would be going home soon, and with this thought in my mind, I acquired a much more positive attitude toward the Yosemite trip. Isn't it funny how wanting to go home can become your motivation? I kind of figured that if I had fun the time would pass faster and I could go home and sleep in my nice old bed and get to take a warm shower (the showers were so cold, it was warmer when you weren't showering than when you were showering...). And in this way I was able to enjoy the trip after all, despite being very paranoid for much of the time. I was very fearful during the hiking when we had to clamber up rocks (how precarious! One false move and you would fall all the way to the valley floor) and also when exploring caves (you could slip and break your bones or bang your head on the ceiling! Or you would at least end up with really dirty pants and gloves). But at the same time feeling the adrenaline rush was a good thing since it made me feel adventurous. For much of my life I had been craving something exciting. This is very contradictory considering that I'm a person that likes normality and regular comforting rhythms in their life.

Just the other night, I closed my eyes. I began to imagine that I was back in Yosemite again. I could imagine the covers on my bed turning into the top of the sleeping bag, and the quiet of the room turning into the annoying dripping and banging of the heater... For some reason this gave me a kind of comfort while also making me feel very nostalgic. I wonder if perhaps the reason why I keep waking up really early, like 7:00 am, when I don't need to get up until 7:45, is that my mind thinks, "Oh no! I am so late for the breakfast at Yosemite!" but that's not the case at all.

My parents said that maybe some other time, like in 2011, we could go to Yosemite again. I'd like to go back to Yosemite, but I feel like if I went back there, I wouldn't want to leave. I'd like my days to pass in a national park, the way some people spend a lot of time in Yellowstone, watching the wolves with their binoculars. I'd like to be somewhere where I can see the stars as clear as day and where the trees make the air delightfully fresh. And as dear as home is to me, that place is not here.

Labels: adrenaline, adventure, breakfast, danger, excitement, homesick, late, memories, morning, national park, nostalgia, shower, sleeping bag, song, sounds, surprise, trip, yellowstone, yosemite

Far from it. The sky is covered by rainclouds and the dirt on the ground is still damp, so it becomes mud. There is no one at home besides me, leading to an eerie silence only disturbed by the sound of my breathing and typing. But oh well. I am still thrilled because of the recent work the teachers have handed back to me. (The papers were handed back recently, even if the work wasn't necessarily recent) Since I have low self-esteem, I have to brag at home or talk to myself just to keep it up. People mistake it for a cocky, slightly snobbish personality, but it's a facade.

Sorry about not posting my cooking schedule yesterday. I rambled on too long in the previous post and forgot to put it up. Here it is.
Monday Baguette Costrini. (I'm not exactly sure what it was called. You take a baguette - a long, thin bread - and cut it up into little slices. Bake it in the oven until it is lightly browned. Then you spread olive oil, pepper, salt, and cloves onto it, and put chopped tomatoes, green onions, and some cheese on top. Bake it again, until the cheese is melted. Then eat!)
Tuesday Chinese Chicken Salad. (It doesn't taste all that great. I mean, it's unique, I guess, but I still don't like it. I wonder if my parents have tried it before)
Wednesday Finish workbook. (We have this workbook thing which is trying to get you to improve your eating and exercise habits. At least, I think it's for Wednesday, unless it's for Thursday? But that doesn't seem right either)
Thursday Clean up. (We're having Electives Night, where the 6th grades - called pixies - come to look at the electives. Volunteers from cooking class will be baking cookies)
Friday Chocolate Lava Cake. (Suggested by a guy who used to be in my kitchen, back in days long past. It sounds tasty. I hope it doesn't have any sponge cake stuff in it, though. I don't like that)

I feel a bit sad at having to leave my kitchen seen. Not even a few weeks later, I'll be hustling out of there and to the other side of the pavilion, and at the end of the school day rather than the beginning (if the glitch in our grade/schedule online checking system is telling the truth). I will certainly miss the cooking classroom, kind of like I miss the art classroom and the orchestra/band room. Some people say woodshop is fun, but the warmth and spice smells of the kitchens are charming, as is room 1 with its vases of flowers, goldfish bowl, and walls covered by artwork. Even room 27's ragged lines of black chairs and stands and white helmet, used as a bathroom/hall pass, are something I like.

Agh, never mind. Pretty soon I'll be in a rocking chair, knitting hats for a grandchild on the way or something. Maybe I'll move to Arizona (good for old people, who have arthritis and feel the cold more than young'uns) and chat with my other retired neighbors. Being retired will give me more free time, at the very least. (Unless you're a busy grandma running a campaign for AIDS in Africa.)

Labels: atmosphere, cooking, knitting, memories, mood, nostalgia, personality, rocking chair, weather

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