yellowsunshine diptych, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.
From Tuesday, January 23, 2007
one. The Howie Day album I haven’t listened to in over a year because it inexplicably started skipping just as inexplicably works perfectly again when I pop it into my CD player while driving to work. I spend my commute listening to music that reminds me of college, partly because I once used the opening line of Brace Yourself (So you think/You can hold the world up by a string) as a post title to illustrate the hectic days that marked my last quarter of college. Standing in the Sun and This Time Around are two other favorites (I still distinctly remember having just gotten off work one evening, sitting in my car at a traffic light in downtown Sacramento, head turned, glancing at something to my right, as the line I always knew the sun would burn away spilled out of the speakers for the first time), while Numbness for Sound unexpectedly brings back bittersweet memories.
two. I’ve got my favorite Desi restaurant on speed-dial! I walk in to pick up the one, single naan (and nothing else) that I’ve ordered, and the Indian lady at the counter smiles at me. “I’m sorry we didn’t have samosas again,” she says. “The baba who makes them is out today.”
“That’s alright,” I say. “I always come here for the naan anyway!”
“Your friend didn’t come with you today? She was here the other day.”
“Which friend? The tall one?”
“Yes! She’s so beautiful!” says the woman, wide-eyed. “I asked her where she was from, and she said Afghanistan.”
“Oh, did she?” I say, laughing to myself. “She’s Pathan, that’s probably why she said that.” My family and B’s are both from the Attock district in Pakistan, but, as a native Pukhtu speaker, she also identifies quite strongly with Afghan culture. I can’t wait to get back to the office and say accusingly, “Oh, so now you’re Afghan, huh?”
three. In corresponding with a colleague with whom I am working on a project, I send the following note:
Could you please forward this to ______? My email, below, didn’t seem to go through to him. Thanks so much!
His response makes me smile:
Hi Yasmine, I seem to have forwarded it successfully. But, you know, it goes into cyberspace and then what?
four. Scrounging around for writing instruments, I borrow a pen from my co-worker (without telling her) but like it so much that I decide to keep it. This, I guess, would be called stealing, but who cares? My left-handed clumsiness and I are grateful for pretty pens that allow us to write in smooth, streak-free lines.
five. Driving back to the office from the aforementioned lunch, I notice some beautiful yellow flowers planted across the street. I make a u-turn, park illegally, and walk swiftly, camera in hand, down the sidewalk to the corner with the yellow flowers. The image at the head of this post is a diptych of two photos I took that afternoon. Yellow sunshine flowers on a day that feels like Monday are a warm and unexpectedly soothing remedy when spring seems so far away.
