A while ago I posted a meme in which someone gave me a letter and I was to write about five things which begin with that letter and what they mean to me. I then offered to assign letters to others. Recently, my blog-friend Beth, asked if she could have a letter, and when she’d written her post, I asked her if she’d send the meme back my way. She assigned me the letter D.
I first encountered this word in France, as we were driving from Bezier to Carcassone about four years ago. I kept seeing it painted on signs in front of farm houses, or on gates. I wondered about it, but it wasn’t until our last night in St. Thibery that I learned that it meant that the people in those houses were offering tastes of their wine, in order to elicit sales. Ben (or was it Bill?) one of the B&B Owners said that it reminded them of the word “disgusting,” but that most of the wines were quite good. They went on to explain that one should never drink white wines along the Canal du Midi as they’re blended from various grapes, and tended to be uneven, but that the reds were always excellent. They punctuated their lecture on French wine with samples. By the end of the evening, I was buzzed, high on life, and not entirely certain that the fireworks we shot off in the empty field behind the house weren’t just in my head. I spent most of the 13-hour plane ride from CDG to SFO asleep, though, so, it was all good.
As a kid, I went through phases where I wanted to be a jockey, a singer (specifically Billie Holiday or Judy Garland), President of the USA, or a marine biologist. Oh, and I wanted to write great books. I think it’s cool that our dream-selves are often radically different from our real selves, but also, I think a little “what if” play is healthy. Speculating gives us ideas and inspiration. I also think it’s fascinating the way our dreams form our lives, even when the actual paths we take diverge in radical ways. I’m never going to be a marine biologist, but I live for the ocean-related shows on The Discovery Channel, and still have a slight obsession with sharks.
I’ve never been afraid of the dark, as much as I was afraid of what might be lurking within it, but as I’ve gotten older, the childhood fears have given way to a love of darkness. The dark of night is when my mind is most alive, racing with ideas long after I should be sleeping, it’s also the coolest part of the day, when the heat and its accompanying tension break away, leaving sillky, smooth, restful nighttime in their wake. Isn’t it interesting, though, that light is just light, but dark is always THE DARK, as if it’s not just an absence of light, but an actual entity? Food for thought.
I love art, and art supplies, and I would kill to be able to draw, but there’s some synaptic failure between what I see in my head and what my hands are capable of putting on paper. I am always eager to watch others draw, then, and to see how they work. For me, the process is as interesting as the finished product.
I’ve owned several diaries, journals, blank books and such over the years, but I can never stay loyal to them. I feel like whatever I put on nice paper has to be GOOD, instead of REAL. When I was introduced to OpenDiary by a friend, I knew I’d found my niche. Blogging gives me the freedom of a diary in that I can write whatever occurs to me, and comes with feedback and external accountability. What could be better?
That’s it for me and the letter D. Want a letter of your own? Let me know!
Gimme a letter! :)
ooooo… lovely entry! and your observation on The Dark is indeed food for thought.