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After what has to be the most record breaking of all of our drives up here (4 hours 15 minutes from the 405 to San Jose), I'm sitting here just kinda dealing with the quiet.
Dave's family's house is quiet and cold--temperature wise. But it is always loving and warm, and normally full of motion, and movement. They have a score of nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, grandchildren and in laws that congregate here in this warm-hearted, lovely home. But late at night, it is quiet here, and for me (since my house is almost never quiet,) this lends no bit of comfort, or reassurance of mind. In fact, it just keeps me awake long into the night.
We watched Finding Nemo, which I had managed to miss (like I'm doing so much with films these days), and it was a nice, little "heartwarmer." Bambi II: Bambi's Maritime Adventure. Janelle quoted half of the lines before they were said, Dave's dog snored, and Brian fell asleep. But I think that I enjoyed it none the less.
The ride up was fun. It's always a fun time. No matter how tired we are, how weirded out by any of the traffic, or lack there of--or the smells of Cowschwitz (ride up I-5 sometime, and you'll know exactly where I'm talking about), we manage to just get crazy, let loose, and act like 20something year old muppets. We sing along with the likes of Ben Folds Five, Bon Jovi, The Muppets, Poison, The Clash, and if we're keeping up tradition, Billy Joel. And we sing just enough off key (mainly me, anyway) to keep it real, and goofy as all get out. And we mock each other, and crack crass jokes during the songs, and change lyrics, and make lewd hand gestures. Yeah, it's a time, and the uninitiated who have journeyed with us have either sank or swam.
It's far more fun to swim. Really. And it keeps the time moving faster, it does.
At one point this trip we started trying to figure out how many times we've done our annual winter trip. This trip marks #7. 7. And we all realized, for a very brief moment during Elvis Costello's My Funny Valentine, that we have known each other for far too long, and that, yeah, we're getting old. But still in love with the idea of having a good time just being *young at heart*. But I still contend that I'm not that old, dammit.
Everyone has gone off to bed, now, and the house is quiet save for a tick tick tick of a small clock next to the computer, the soft click and hummm of the diswasher, and the distant snoring of the dog, Sophie. And the click, click, click of my typing. It's in these moments that I start thinking too much about some of everything and nothing...or maybe it's just that I'm tired, and I know that I'm only looking forward to sleep somewhere that's too quiet for my loud head...
Too many thoughts sometimes...most of the time...all of the time. And the white noise doesn't help to cancel it out. I need to drown in sound, I think. My white noise is much more concentrated, aggressive...
As much as I do enjoy my time here, with friends, with extended family, I've always found that I'm not comfortable, can't get fully ingratiated; I don't have a soundtrack to cover the blury moments in my mind--no music to sing along to. No music to sing myself to sleep. No familiarity. Not enough off key--just enough, for me to keep myself real.
And real sleep is something that I think that I need now'a'days.
Dave's family's house is quiet and cold--temperature wise. But it is always loving and warm, and normally full of motion, and movement. They have a score of nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, grandchildren and in laws that congregate here in this warm-hearted, lovely home. But late at night, it is quiet here, and for me (since my house is almost never quiet,) this lends no bit of comfort, or reassurance of mind. In fact, it just keeps me awake long into the night.
We watched Finding Nemo, which I had managed to miss (like I'm doing so much with films these days), and it was a nice, little "heartwarmer." Bambi II: Bambi's Maritime Adventure. Janelle quoted half of the lines before they were said, Dave's dog snored, and Brian fell asleep. But I think that I enjoyed it none the less.
The ride up was fun. It's always a fun time. No matter how tired we are, how weirded out by any of the traffic, or lack there of--or the smells of Cowschwitz (ride up I-5 sometime, and you'll know exactly where I'm talking about), we manage to just get crazy, let loose, and act like 20something year old muppets. We sing along with the likes of Ben Folds Five, Bon Jovi, The Muppets, Poison, The Clash, and if we're keeping up tradition, Billy Joel. And we sing just enough off key (mainly me, anyway) to keep it real, and goofy as all get out. And we mock each other, and crack crass jokes during the songs, and change lyrics, and make lewd hand gestures. Yeah, it's a time, and the uninitiated who have journeyed with us have either sank or swam.
It's far more fun to swim. Really. And it keeps the time moving faster, it does.
At one point this trip we started trying to figure out how many times we've done our annual winter trip. This trip marks #7. 7. And we all realized, for a very brief moment during Elvis Costello's My Funny Valentine, that we have known each other for far too long, and that, yeah, we're getting old. But still in love with the idea of having a good time just being *young at heart*. But I still contend that I'm not that old, dammit.
Everyone has gone off to bed, now, and the house is quiet save for a tick tick tick of a small clock next to the computer, the soft click and hummm of the diswasher, and the distant snoring of the dog, Sophie. And the click, click, click of my typing. It's in these moments that I start thinking too much about some of everything and nothing...or maybe it's just that I'm tired, and I know that I'm only looking forward to sleep somewhere that's too quiet for my loud head...
Too many thoughts sometimes...most of the time...all of the time. And the white noise doesn't help to cancel it out. I need to drown in sound, I think. My white noise is much more concentrated, aggressive...
As much as I do enjoy my time here, with friends, with extended family, I've always found that I'm not comfortable, can't get fully ingratiated; I don't have a soundtrack to cover the blury moments in my mind--no music to sing along to. No music to sing myself to sleep. No familiarity. Not enough off key--just enough, for me to keep myself real.
And real sleep is something that I think that I need now'a'days.
