Friday, January 22, 2010

Last summer, science told us that our bodies glow in the dark, shining out visible light that is 1,000 times less than what our eyes are equipped to see. But we already knew that, didn't we, that the spaces between our eyes and our brains are too large to see the things that might matter most. And here we are, moving through space, glowing without realizing it, wondering why plants are always flowering around us and why we have trouble getting to sleep at night.

I have been thinking about life lists, about making one, and looking at lists that other people have made. I'm pretty big on just doing things because they sound like fun, and it's encouraging to see that some of the adventures that I have had are things that appear on peoples' lists. I feel like I'm doing an ok job at life--I've taken a cross-country road trip, traveled in Italy alone and in China with friends, eaten a whole lot of escargot, learned how to sew--but maybe I should make a list. I like lists. (Here's a thing: sometime soon, once we get our scheduling together, I am going to take a trapeze class. This scares the bejeezus out of me, which is obviously why it has to be done.) There are a ton of things left to be done: tango in Argentina, eat brains (not human, you zombies), feed a baby giraffe, buy a dresser I don't have to assemble myself. Maybe a list is the thing.

There was a list, once. I made it in approximately high school and carried it around in my wallet until it fell apart. I don't remember what was on it...something about learning the violin, I think, and probably learning to draw. A bunch of things, written on lined notebook paper and folded three times. In college I typed up the fading list in a teensy font and carried that around for a while. It's probably somewhere. Not the most useful of lists.

I think about this a lot, is all, the ways we all spend the time between now and the end. All of us passing each other, shining softly, trying our best not to get swallowed up by all of this time we have left, hammering together stories out of scraps and wisps of moments and glances and adrenaline. Trying to fill the space between our eyes and brains with whatever we have at hand.

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