I wouldn’t say I’m the best at communicating anguish when I hear about something terrible happening to someone. I certainly feel the pain. But when I try to express how horrified I am, or how sorry I am, it all comes out in this stilted and young vocabulary. By ‘young’ I mean, the words I use are ones that two year olds have mastery of, like bad, sorry, hug, wow, feel sick.
Some people have the gift of immediate and profound responses, or can at least show how deeply they feel something by crying right along with the person.
Not me. I have trouble finishing my sentences. And, I can’t even reveal my sympathy with tears. I’m on anti-anxiety medicine and while it has made me more human, in some respects, it’s also made me more robotic in that I rarely cry. The tears are in there, just waiting behind the eyelids for release, but it’s like they’re jammed. No matter how much I’m feeling.
So, that being said, when I think about Orlando and everything that’s happened there in the past week, I’m at a loss to communicate. This is the fourth version of a blog post I’ve started, and not one has adequately said what I feel.
Last week I fell off the blogging wagon. I’m not sure why–all I can say is that every time Laken went down for a nap and it was my usual writing time I either suffered from writer’s block or found something incredibly important to do.
But this week I’m ready to be back on track, and I have pictures to share as part of my definitely-not-regular feature called ‘The Weekly Spazieren.’ I think by weekly I meant ‘taken throughout any given week of walking’ and not ‘I promise to post this every single week, as in I’m making a definite commitment to you right here, right now.’
I’m not normally a commitment-phobe, but am becoming one as of late.
In fact, on Monday we’re leaving for the States and I’m already wondering if I’ll be able to keep up the blogging habit while we’re gone. Todd and I tend to be pretty decadent while we’re on vacation. We’re prone to eating at restaurants three times a day (I mean, it’s the States–can you blame us?) and filling in the gaps with beer breaks in the backyard. I might be too stuffed/drunk to feel creative. But, I’m going to try my very hardest to continue writing on a weekly basis. After all, I love doing it. And, at least in my world, all it takes is one little break and it becomes a lifestyle. Story of my last six years.
So, let’s go spazieren, shall we?
Last week I hoped to share mannequin nipples with you. (They’re definitely a ‘thing’ over here, and I don’t recall seeing them in the States at all? Not that I look that mannequin chests all that closely? Or, perhaps I do?) I was motivated to check out grocery stores because I’ve seen some odd products and pairings here and there (think bananas and men’s shoes on the same shelf. I’ve seen that one.)
If I can figure out how to be more discreet about taking pictures of people, I’d like to show you head-to-toe matching couples, or the old women trend of pink hair, or the enigma of levitating street artists.
But, thanks to stomach flu, we didn’t do much spazieren (aka ‘walking,’ an important German pastime.) until Friday. By then I was eager to get out and capture our little suburb in all its quirky glory.
(I do love me some quirky.)