Everyone has their preferences as to what they like to do in their spare time. I find enjoyment in some of the simplest activities, most of which you don’t have to pay much money for. If you can enjoy life without having to pay more than you have to, then you’ve got it made.
One of my most favorite things to do is go for walks. At twilight. Twilight seems to be the time of day that is the quietest. The calmest. The time when everyone sits down for dinner, then retires to their room to sleep or read a book. The air is still and I can hear distant sounds a lot easier at this time. Some days, there are clouds still hanging over the horizon that were a blazing pink or orange at sunset, like opals. At twilight, you see that glorious fire die down to ashes, and your soul seems to lay down to rest with it. The details of the distant trees slowly fade out to ink black against the evening sky. Your eyes can rest now that the sun isn’t threatening to blaze into them. It’s such a wonderful time of day.
Another thing that strikes my fancy is blank paper. Especially blank lined paper. I like to write, and the sight of blank lined paper fills my mind with possibilities. The foreseeing of handwriting upon it excites me, but I still hold a ballpoint pen in my hand with great, trembling hesitation. The most disappointing thing about liking blank paper is that you hate it once you mark it up with your own penmanship. The magic of anticipation is gone. The paper has been soiled and deflowered. It will never be blank again. It has been marred by things that probably will never matter. Especially when your handwriting is less than tasteful, like scribbles from an inexperienced child’s hand. And then you throw it aside to use the next blank piece of paper, angry to find that you pressed too hard through the first piece of paper, marring the next one with indentations or, in the case of using a Sharpie, ink that bled through.
For similar reasons, I find great fancy in perfectly straight sticks and boxes. Straight sticks could be used for many things. They could be used to build something, to conjure something, to defend one’s self, or used as mere decoration. Don’t even attempt to mess with a perfectly straight stick. You will regret it for a long time. It will have naturally grown so straight, and then something not so perfect will have marred it out of jealousy of its perfection.
Where’s the fairness in that?
My obsession with boxes seems to reflect to the world my curious personality. Like Pandora, I’m a tad too curious for my own good. I open boxes, hoping to find something amazing. Something unexpected. Something magical. If the box is empty (as it usually is), then I get all caught up in the possibilities of what could have been inside. If there is something in there, I have less happy thoughts, now knowing, for sure, what is in the box. No more guessing. No more surprise. I absolutely love surprises, and sometimes hope that they are never revealed. Only so I can keep on guessing.
