tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29566819593907966872024-03-14T08:14:14.886-07:00Intentionally Left Blankdisorganized musingsHannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-63896705170793939772022-04-06T00:30:00.002-07:002022-04-06T00:30:31.088-07:00Brunhilde<span style="font-family: helvetica;">Dear Brunhilde,</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> I have learned to crochet. It reminds me less and less of you; I find that almost as rewarding as crocheting itself. </span><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><span> Very satisfactory.</span><br /></span></span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-46764394077917794932022-03-29T01:04:00.001-07:002022-03-29T01:04:20.485-07:00The Dream Lives You<span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hannah: w</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">ants to go to Hawai'i for years and years.</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*goes to Hawai'i*</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*immediately contracts COVID-19*</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The dream lives you, bitch.</span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-14676618188323076852022-03-01T15:32:00.001-07:002022-03-01T15:32:02.222-07:00Shar Lay Vu<p> <span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 17px;">CHARLEXVOIX COUNTY, MI</span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-51472113383556272042022-02-08T09:43:00.000-07:002022-02-08T09:43:39.835-07:00Salt Shamed<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"I don't add salt when <i>I</i> cook."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I choke on my retort. For once it's immediate, not coming after hours of stewing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">What I'm not saying is: "That's because </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">I </i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">don't use premade food, I cook from </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">scratch.</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">" </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It felt like I was literally choking. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It serves me right for bragging. "I use so much less salt than called for in the recipe." My retort, my brag, both are true. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My finished dish, low in sodium? Humble pie.</span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-825938837172019762022-01-30T19:28:00.002-07:002022-01-30T19:28:23.186-07:00Shades<span style="font-family: helvetica;">I grew up wanting to wear sunglasses. Sunglasses are cool. Twenty-two years after I started wearing glasses I got my first pair of prescription sunglasses. I loved them and wore them almost exclusively for driving. Six years later, I was wearing them when the airbags knocked them from my face. They were easy to find. My regular glasses were AWOL. It was only one day before I was reunited with my glasses... but the longer I wore my sunglasses indoors, I felt like my vision was disintegrating. </span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now my blood pressure rises when I wear sunglasses in the car.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I sleep with my glasses on.</span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-12067990451425041872022-01-30T07:19:00.000-07:002022-01-30T07:19:06.661-07:00It's Not You, It's Me<p> <span style="font-family: helvetica;">"I'm trying not to take it personally."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"Why? It IS personal."</span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-1864963964064637642022-01-29T19:04:00.000-07:002022-01-29T19:04:28.914-07:00I’m Not In Pain, I Just Hurt<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Why aren’t our parents still together?”</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Bitterly, achingly, longingly. Almost eight years old in body. </span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-78372441668289525052022-01-09T01:10:00.001-07:002022-01-09T01:10:32.005-07:00Used, Like New<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I've been living in memories of death ad in nightmares that animate the dead into jagged, soulless, lumps of a human facade. The nightmares are the worst.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Because of this, I've been thinking of my own death. Thinking of how to reword my will so my exact wishes are shared, then carried out. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Today I purchased my urn. I got it half off, because I chose to buy used. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Used, Like New.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-73642058988462823432022-01-02T02:18:00.001-07:002022-01-02T02:18:37.522-07:002022<span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">2022</span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-83013553530874222432021-12-14T04:06:00.005-07:002021-12-14T04:06:39.339-07:00Liminal<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> <span style="background-color: white; font-size: small;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; border-color: rgb(77, 81, 86); font-size: 14px; white-space: break-spaces;">The word 'liminal' comes from the Latin root, limen, which means 'threshold.' The liminal space is </span><b style="background-color: white; border-color: rgb(77, 81, 86); font-size: 14px; white-space: break-spaces;">the 'crossing over space</b><span style="background-color: white; border-color: rgb(77, 81, 86); font-size: 14px; white-space: break-spaces;"> – a space where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It's a transition space."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; border-color: rgb(77, 81, 86); font-size: 14px; white-space: break-spaces;"><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/liminal-space-embracing-mystery-power-transition-from-alan-seale" target="_blank">Alan Seale</a><br /></span></span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-64772452674886481232021-12-14T03:56:00.007-07:002021-12-14T03:56:52.220-07:00$5<p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"> <span style="background-color: white;">A window rolls down.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">He appears, a careful distance. </span></p><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Unusually, "good morning, how are you?" Is spoken.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">A hand extends a folded bill. $5.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">"Thank you!" Typical.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">"Merry Christmas!" Not unexpected.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">The window rolls up.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Good morning.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">How are you?</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Sincerity, with a $5 tip.</span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-44938390423868842732021-12-12T12:30:00.007-07:002021-12-12T12:30:41.925-07:00Dangerous, But Unremarkable<p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">That is my Odyssey. </span></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I'll repeat– </span></span></p><p><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Dangerous, But Unremarkable.</span></span></p><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); caret-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-69875657604599926292021-12-06T15:20:00.000-07:002021-12-06T15:20:06.206-07:00Yes<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span>There are boxes everywhere, cut open or firmly sealed, on every
surface. Each one a testament to my unacknowledged shopping addiction. It’s always
online shopping. Each item is carefully selected, weighed against other options available.
I will click add to cart for each competing item. Click, click, click. Soon there
will be five or ten or fifteen items. I will click click click through more
pages until I give up and go and look at the five— ten— fifteen items in my
virtual cart. Some are easy to eliminate: poor quality or too high pricing.
Others I click back and forth and back and forth, to reviews and minutia like release
dates. I keep winnowing it down until there is a champion, and more times than
not, leave it in the cart for later. Later I will move it to my “saved” list so
I can repeat the process with something new. Too many times I do click that final
button, the “yes” button. Many times I will cancel the purchase— or try to.
Many times I will turn around and return the items right away. I’ll amass a
number of items and return them all at once. Too many times I will keep them. Sometimes I will go long stretches without buying anything, but I don't learn, nothing changes. Sometimes it's enough to just add things to the cart, without the final click. But eventually, I will click yes, on something. Anything. Everything. Yes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-20376588277674484952021-12-05T20:31:00.005-07:002021-12-05T20:31:57.803-07:00Delusional<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span>I have this memory of filling out almost an entire page of
addresses, only three spaces left. One full and one almost full page of address
labels. But when I select the file, when I open the file I saved with those
pages, that is not what I find: instead, there is one full page, and one almost
half-filled page. The worst part is that I have double, and triple, checked the
addresses I remember adding, all the ones I want to be on there. They are on
there, each one. The question is then do I have a faulty memory? Or have I made
memories up— (are memories anything more than made up things?) The choices I
have given myself are forgetful or in a mental breakdown? Clearly, I am the
problem here. I am the problem and the solution… and cue what Mark Manson
called “the Feedback Loop from Hell”...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span>No. Stop there. I am not delusional. I am forgetful. Including
a few (intentionally) duplicated addresses, there are 80. I was not planning on
mailing out 120 Christmas cards, I bought only 40 stamps. I am forgetful. I had
a faulty memory. I am not “going crazy”. Just a corrupted memory file. Not
crazy. Not crazy.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-16507208156991247272021-11-27T14:59:00.006-07:002021-11-27T14:59:55.932-07:00Whomp<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My eyes fly open when the 18
wheeler’s trailer slams into the side of my car. I wake just as the force of
impact slingshots my car across the highway. It was… a dreamed memory. Awake, I
don’t have to have to fumble my way out of a wrecked sedan, so shaken it took an
hour for me to realize that I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I don’t lose my shoes because
of a handful of glass chunks is in them. I know it is in the past, it is a
memory. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Still—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span>Whomp.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">At innocuous moments—</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 2.0in 2.25in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Whomp.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When I am thinking about the accident—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Whomp.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>When I
am driving—</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Whomp.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The
memory comes, with a whomp, whenever it wants. It overshadows other equally
traumatizing memories, coming at least once daily.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Whomp.</span><o:p></o:p></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-84501643811301649602021-09-22T03:32:00.000-07:002021-09-22T03:32:20.753-07:00The Hand<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I reach out and a little hand slips confidently into my own. I marvel at just *how* little, yet how perfectly formed it is. Holding that little hand, I know that it's an irreproducible experience. Irreplaceable.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Our destination is here and the hand tries to slip away— I don't want to let go, but it's time. As I do, a little face, as perfectly formed as the hand, looks up at me, face glowing with the sheer joy of existing, being loved and cared for. There's a laugh as I open my hand and the little hand slips out. Still radiating that pure and simple happiness, the child, for it is a child, dances away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> My empty hand still holds a ghost of theirs.</span></p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956681959390796687.post-28418675193235967912021-09-22T03:29:00.002-07:002021-09-22T03:29:32.627-07:00Prior Posts<p> I unpublished them because, well, I loathed them and I don't know the person that wrote them any longer. They were a terrible writer anyway.</p>Hannah Elisabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11641040444471594397noreply@blogger.com0