Shower Meme 2005 #5: oceanic

[sun_set_bravely]

oceanic's questions:

1. Your first book comes out. Your publisher sends you a copy of the bound book in the mail. You rip the package open in the middle of downtown Manhattan, and for five minutes you are allowed to do anything, consequence-free (i.e. the Powers That Be will wipe it from the memory of all surrounding passersby). What do you do?
2. If you could wear one variety of flower behind your ear for the rest of your life, what would it be?
3. I suspect that everyone, when they were younger, had a favorite planet in the solar system. Which of the eight planets other than ours would you most like to visit, and in a highly fantastical world, what do you think it would be most appropriate for you to find upon getting there? This is of course assuming immunity from otherwise lethal differences in pressure, temperature, atmosphere, etc.
4. You are somewhere emotionally warm and fuzzy, like snuggling under a cozy blanket. Open your eyes and tell me where you are.
5. The last question is a big one, prefaced by a rather obvious "IF": How would you like your children to be able to define the word "home"?



1. Your first book comes out. Your publisher sends you a copy of the bound book in the mail. You rip the package open in the middle of downtown Manhattan, and for five minutes you are allowed to do anything, consequence-free (i.e. the Powers That Be will wipe it from the memory of all surrounding passersby). What do you do?

Run down the street and whoop and holler. Grab strangers and hug them. Sit down in the middle of the street and read parts of it. Climb crosswalk signals and sing a song loudly. I'm not sure, actually, because I wonder if I'd be in so much shock that I'd just keep walking until I got home.


2. If you could wear one variety of flower behind your ear for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Easy – crow-poison flowers. An unglamorous name for a simple weed/wildflower. As seen in my icon. These were my favorite flowers as a kid, and I still love them for their simple happiness.


3. I suspect that everyone, when they were younger, had a favorite planet in the solar system. Which of the eight planets other than ours would you most like to visit, and in a highly fantastical world, what do you think it would be most appropriate for you to find upon getting there? This is of course assuming immunity from otherwise lethal differences in pressure, temperature, atmosphere, etc.

I think that my favorite planet was Saturn, because of those badass rings. There are infinite grooves in those rings, and in each one you find something different – racecars, marbles, bobsledders, ice skaters, ballerinas, rivers of chocolate. The rings are really where the action is. You can take a space-ferry to get to the rings. Families leave on whole-year vacations to visit those rings. Everything on the planet itself is pretty uneventful. Mostly, the planet's surface is covered with double pillow-top mattresses, and its citizens dress in pajamas every day, all day. There's a lot of cuddling and sleeping that goes on. Also, half of the population is Shiba Inus.


4. You are somewhere emotionally warm and fuzzy, like snuggling under a cozy blanket. Open your eyes and tell me where you are.

I'm a kid again, sitting in the space behind my mom's curled legs as she lies on the couch on her side. I used to call that her "cubby hole," and I'd crawl into the little square between her legs and the couch and hide. Or I'm waking up with CL on a lazy Saturday morning, my ear resting against his warm shoulder and his arms around me. Or I'm lying in the grass during a humid Houston afternoon, and I'm staring up at the immense Texas sky.


5. The last question is a big one, prefaced by a rather obvious "IF": How would you like your children to be able to define the word "home"?

I'd want them to be able to define it as a feeling, not only as a place. I'd want it to mean to them something akin to what it means to me when I speak about my home with CL. It just feels right, comfortable, strong, aligned. It feels like all those funky grooves in life just line up and sink into each other effortlessly, leaving no big questions about where you belong. It feels thrilling and tickly, like getting coke bubbles up your nose. It feels safe, very safe, where everything about you is good and welcomed with compassion. It's a landing pad, a recharging zone, a place where they will always be welcome, but never held captive. As far as the physical definition of home, I'd want them to be able to define their home as lived in and friendly, welcoming, comfortable. Also, I want their home to be vivid, beautiful, brightly colored, invigorating.

Comments

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

always fun to read these kind of things.

[oceanic.livejournal.com]

The Saturn answer is just brilliant. Makes me want to do a comic about it. ;)

I used to do that cubby hole thing with my dad's legs when we watched TV at night. I had completely forgotten about that until you mentioned it. :)

Also, the home definition is beautiful. Would that everyone could have place like that (and I feel blessed that I recognize it in my own life).