uncommon sense

inspired by my sisters.

When we were little we used to sit Indian style-
on the bottom of the pool,
and blow bubbles like smoke rings up to the sky.
I’d lay camouflaged on the ground a hidden stingray;
you’d stand in the little groove in my back
till I came to life and shook you off,
but the water would always catch your fall.

Scissor legs and dolphin rides,
(why did I always have to be the dolphin?);
I think my favorite was the whirlpool,
and yours was sharks and minnows,
especially when we guessed animal names,
you inching along already cheating to the other side.

Sometimes we’d just hold our breath,
and try to trick each other floating on our backs.
I played the flute so I always told you I should win,
and by the end of the summer I did make one length of the pool,
and all the way back to the other side.

Did I ever tell you I was terrified of the filter?
If you get too close I’d bet they’d suck you in,
I heard it happened on TV once-
no one ever saw that little girl again.

Hours open hours till we turned into burnt raisins,
shriveled up red-eyed runny-nosed stubbed-toes

That summer I finally learned how to dive,
and hold my breath and count to 100 (really fast),
and that you didn’t really have to wait 30 minutes,
after you ate a hotdog and Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper,
Momma just wanted our sunscreen to set in.

Next summer I’d start thinking I couldn’t eat Cheetos,
and I’d rather not wear sunscreen,
and come to think of it I was tired of looking like a raisin,
but you’d tell me to come over to the side and look at you do a flip,
then grab my feet and pull me back in,
and I’ll always thank you for it.

written this summer.

so one minute it’s weightless
windows down top back
short shorts red shades
‘we are who we are’ says the voice
california in the airwaves!

next minute it’s much less
sticky soda hot heat
same song same dance
‘born this way’ says the voice
…she knows you so well

third minute it’s hopeless
shaking fingers tired eyes
dry lips chapped hands
‘please don’t go’…who are you?
would you notice if I did…

and there’s the old familiar feeling
two hands, all that stands between,
the prison of the open road,
and the freedom of the ditch.

On writing

Write when inspiration hits you, otherwise you will be looking at blog topics you wrote down three months ago and find them all uninspiring.

Write when inspiration doesn’t come to you, because that’s when your writing will be most relatable to those around you.

Write about other people, because they help you find yourself. And because they are probably more interesting than you are.

Write about yourself, because you never know yourself as well as you think you do. And because you might turn out to be more interesting than you expected.

Write to connect with others, and write to remain unique.

Write longer than you think you should, because your best thoughts might need more time to show up.

Writer shorter than you think you should, so other people can fill in the rest.

Write a letter, because it means much more than a text message. And you need to practice your handwriting.

Write a poem, because it’s the quickest way to your soul.

Write about science, history, design, travel…because it needs a voice.

Write a blog post, because somehow, somewhere, it will be just what someone wanted to hear.

Write a novel, because how many people do that?

Write because you’re good at it, and write because you’re not.

Write about your past, because it helps you live your best in the present.

Write about your future, because it’s just waiting to be created.

Write about how you feel right now, because you may never feel this way again.

Doctors + Facial Expressions

Tuesday I went to the doctor for a physical, and although the doctor was friendly and competent, something she did caused me to think about the way doctors relate to their patients, specifically through their facial expressions.

During the physical when she was checking my breathing, heart rate, stomach, moles for skin cancer, etc, she kept making a face which at first had me worried about my health. After a few times of asking her, “is everything OK?”, I realized this was the face she made when she was concentrating.

It may seem like a small thing, but her body language was communicating to me that I needed to worry about my health when I didn’t. It’s bad enough when people legitimately have a reason to be nervous about going to the doctor, but a physician’s job is to make people feel comfortable even when they do have things to worry about. I wonder what kind of classes people take in medical school on relating to patients and if this is something they talk about. It’s a nuance I will want to be careful of in the future, and it doesn’t just apply to physicians. Body language is important in any interaction.