Twilight at Hillside



Early Morning



Twenty-two Hour Trip



When I called my sister yesterday, her boys, who are now five, were still up. They asked if they could talk to me so she put one on. He told me that he had just lost one of his teeth. Then the other one wanted to get on. “I’m going to the same school next year,” he tells me, “they opened a class just for us and my best friend is going to be there, too.”

“Oooh, ” I said, “Who’s your best friend?”

He told me a name I never heard before.

“I don’t know him.”


“That’s right, you never met him.”

“Will you introduce me to him?”

“Yes, I will,” he exclaimed and then put my sister back on. Then the first one had more to tell. And then so did the other one. I could tell they are just as excited as I am that we will be seeing each other very soon.

It almost makes the twenty-two hour flight worthwhile.

Ps: I will be gone for a little over a week and will try to post photos from Fethiye, Turkey.

Oldsmobile



The Parade



Tray of Constipation



I arrived in the United States almost twelve years ago to attend college. By that time, I’d been studying English actively for seven years and had had once-a-week lessons for two years before that. When I arrived at school, I had a distinct accent and didn’t know any of the colloquial terms kids used.

One of the first people I met in Pittsburgh was Jon, who walked up to me while I was opening a bank account with my father and gave me his phone number. I remember being baffled by his repetition of the word ‘cool’ during our conversation. Cool meant between cold and hot, to me; I had no idea of its other, more colloquial usage.

People used to often ask me where I came from during Freshman year. I remember when my friend Laura and I noticed that my accent disappeared if I sang. We didn’t know why but it happened each time. Somewhere along the line almost all of my accent did evaporate but I have no idea why or how.

Most of the Freshmen at my school had a dining plan that confined them to one cafeteria, Highlander, for all meals. You could have unlimited food but it had to be from Highlander. I don’t need to tell you how the food tasted. It appears there was a long-standing tradition with the Highlander trays: people claimed the trays for their own purposes. Each time we ate a meal, we’d real aloud our tray’s owners. “Tray of the Itchy Freshman,” “Tray of Late Night Phonecall.” During our many trips to the cafeteria we’d laugh at the variety we’d seen.

A few months into the school year, I got “The Tray of Constipation.” I was with my friend Laura and her friend Matt. I asked Laura what constipation meant. From the look of embarrassment on her face, I thought it might be something sexual so I added “You don’t have to show me, just tell me,” which made her laugh out loud. She tried to get Matt to explain it to me but he refused. Finally, she made the face that clarified everything.

Looking back, it seems funny that I didn’t know the definition of constipation twelve years ago. My accent has since then disappeared and my vocabulary and grammar knowledge have grown exponentially. I don’t know how and when the changes came about but remembering “The Tray of Constipation” always makes me laugh and realize how far I’ve come in this country.

Abstract II



Abstract I



Mail Slot



Pole Top



Fire Buttons



A Million Pieces



What’d they have to do?
Cap the outside two, fill a cavity on this one.
I point to my outside left tooth.
Root canals on these.
I tap the middle two. They are firm.
They give you good drugs?
They didn’t give me anything.
No fucking way.
Yeah.
They didn’t give you anything?
No.
You got root canals on your two front teeth without any drugs?
Yeah.
Leonard looks at me as if what I have said is incomprehensible to him.
– James Frey in A Million Little Pieces

This section of James Frey’s story reminded me of the anecdote I had told about my mom’s client a few years ago. When my grandfather passed away, one of my mom’s clients had approached her and said, “May God never give you as much pain as you can endure.” A comment that at first startled her but then revealed its wisdom.

Our bodies, minds, and hearts seem to be capable of enduring huge quantities of pain. Imagine moments of huge panic or fear. Enormous happiness. In those moments we appear to have extreme strength. We can take the pain. Think of the guy who cut of his arm because it was trapped and he was otherwise going to die. He broke each of his own bones and then cut it off. I don’t imagine he would have said he could endure that sort of pain, until he did. We seem capable of doing things beyond our imagination.

I guess the reason I wanted to note this was to remind myself that I am capable of putting up with a lot. That during weak moments of despair and sorrow, I’m still far away from what I can endure if I had to. And that things really are quite good, all things considered.

Reading Frey’s story is helping me keep things in perspective and also realize that humans have extraordinary strength and resilience.