Snapshots: Spring or Fall?

The sky is clear and cerulean, so blue that it seems unreal.

In the field across from my balcony, the ragweed, which I've been blaming for my fatigue and sinus issues these last few days, is almost insultingly yellow.

But the trees and grasses are deep green, lush from the rain that's fallen over the last few weeks. The sun, hot as a beach sun on my skin, is made bearable by a soft breeze.

It's September. But for a certain slant of light and a peculiar--almost cloying--sweetness in the air, it could be April. The year could just as easily be turning toward summer as to the short, cold days of winter.

I'm trying my best to enjoy the pleasure of warm, sunny days while they last. It's not unlike draining a glass of your favorite drink to the dregs, savoring the taste on your lips, sure and yet unsure—as all living things—that you'll be able to have this experience again.

Spring or fall. Favorite seasons or not so favorite seasons. I'm teaching myself to find more pleasure in the small moments.

Strange Intimacies

For a while (seriously, maybe the last year; on and off for longer), I'd been wanting to get my nose pierced. Just your average nostril piercing, something different yet subtle enough for both my personality and my professional path in life (however it turns out).

I went ahead with it a few weeks ago.

We'd gone downtown to scope out a tattoo and piercing shop to do a little research and reconnaissance. So, while we were there, I thought: why not? No time like the present.

All my previous piercings, which only involve my ears, were done (and I cringe at this) by gun. The first set when I was baby; I don't remember it at all. The second set and single-third, when I was 15. This was my first time actually being pierced the proper way: with a needle.

And there is something strangely intimate about paying someone to shove a needle through your flesh, particularly the flesh of your nose. (I imagine it's an even stranger intimacy for something like nipples, labia or penis.) I'm one of those people who carefully cultivates a bubble of personal space; few people are allowed entrance (and some of them only out of medical necessity, see: yearly check ups), so for me there was a definite sense of having my personal bubble invaded. 

But the strange intimacy was worth it. I now have a pretty little faux opal (fauxpal) stud in my nose. It's my marker for getting through my first year of graduate school.

And now, I am anxiously awaiting the end of the healing process so that I can experiment with different jewelry.