Month: May 2009

A Whim in the Sea

Christanna Rowader1 Comment

 

We still haven't slept yet.
We still haven't slept yet.

 

 

As the weeks go by, the whims come and go. I’ve found myself slowing down the busier the days become, but I still manage to say yes when I’d normally say no. I get the impression that my sense of adventure is related to senioritis and if even it is, then thank the stars! The point of a whim is to enjoy life even when you’re at your busiest. And this semester’s schedule is definitely stuffed to the brim. However, I can’t seem to stop myself from going on whims.
It was a Thursday night and I was planning on spending it with my friends. It was the week before Spring Break and Anthony, Mat, Rachel and I were trying to plan a short trip to San Diego, but we were having trouble finding time within our hectic schedules. Then suddenly Rachel exclaimed, “Let’s go tonight!” Realizing we all had the next morning free, we decided we could pull it off. Mat and I just needed to be back by 5pm to make in time for work. 
No problem.
But who would drive? We decided upon Anthony’s car, a spacious, trustworthy Toyota. He just needed an oil change, but seeing as it was 10 o’clock at night, there wasn’t a likely place that would be open.
“I can do it,” Mat said, and we got to work. Supplies in hand, Mat successfully changed the oil, I looked up directions to Mission Beach, San Diego, and we were on the road by midnight. Well, almost. We needed gas. Ironically, the directions took us on a very isolated road, so the gas station we found seemed to be the only one at the time. Luckily, it was a 24 hour station…except that when we got there it was closed for ten minutes. We stood around outside in the chill anxiously waiting for the man inside to finish counting his registers and activate the pumps and open up the doors so we could stock up in gas and 6 hour energy shooters. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road. Anthony was driver, I was navigator, and Mat was DJ. Rachel ended up falling asleep even after chugging a 24oz. coffee.
The drive was long, but we kept ourselves awake with music and Dane Cook. We passed Yuma, crossed the Boarder Patrol into California, and began the long stretch through the desert in the black of night, only the stars lighting our way…and headlights. A little over half-way there, I glanced over Anthony’s shoulder and noticed that we were near empty in gas. I asked him if we should stop at a gas station, but he assured me we’d make it. But he didn’t account for the uphill driving and hard winds that made the car much more difficult to handle. Before we knew it, the gas light was on, nagging at us as we realized we weren’t really near any civilization. We kept our eyes peeled for a gas sign as we passed barren exits. After a while, we were getting nervous. Then I saw one and we pulled off into a small town, staring out our foggy windows, it being in the thirties outside, until we saw the gas station.
It was closed.
Not only was it closed, but it was 4am and we were completely isolated. We called 411 to find out if there was another gas station nearby. We told them we were in a town called Pine Valley, but the woman on the phone said it didn’t exist.
That was bad. We were on empty and had been on empty for miles and were stranded in a town that didn’t exist! Thankfully, someone seemed to be taking an early morning jog. Mat and Anthony asked her if there was a gas station we could go to and she told us there was one 18 miles away in another town. We were very lucky she decided to take an early run, though I think she was a little freaked out by us.
Eighteen miles later, we were able to make it to an open gas station, filling up 11.7 out of a 12 gallon tank, and made it to Mission Beach. Gathering our blankets, we snuggled into each other on the cold sand, gazing out to where the black sky met the black ocean, hearing the waves slip in and out. It was very surreal. And then the sun came up.
That day we had breakfast on the beach. I took a whim in the ocean, even though it was icy cold. Rachel collected seashells. Anthony buried his feet in sand. Mat enjoyed a peaceful walk down the beach. It was one of the best mornings I had had in a long time and one of the best adventures so far. 
As much as we wanted to stay, we had to return to Arizona in order for Mat and I to get to work on time. Six hours later, we were back to our demanding lives. Though it was a short trip, it was a whim worth remembering! Next time, we’ll plan to stay longer.

As the weeks go by, the whims come and go. I’ve found myself slowing down the busier the days become, but I still manage to say yes when I’d normally say no. I get the impression that my sense of adventure is related to senioritis and if even it is, then thank the stars! The point of a whim is to enjoy life even when you’re at your busiest. And this semester’s schedule is definitely stuffed to the brim. However, I can’t seem to stop myself from going on whims.

It was a Thursday night and I was planning on spending it with my friends. It was the week before Spring Break and Anthony, Mat, Rachel and I were trying to plan a short trip to San Diego, but we were having trouble finding time within our hectic schedules. Then suddenly Rachel exclaimed, “Let’s go tonight!” Realizing we all had the next morning free, we decided we could pull it off. Mat and I just needed to be back by 5pm to make in time for work. 

No problem.

But who would drive? We decided upon Anthony’s car, a spacious, trustworthy Toyota. He just needed an oil change, but seeing as it was 10 o’clock at night, there wasn’t a likely place that would be open.

“I can do it,” Mat said, and we got to work. Supplies in hand, Mat successfully changed the oil, I looked up directions to Mission Beach, San Diego, and we were on the road by midnight. Well, almost. We needed gas. Ironically, the directions took us on a very isolated road, so the gas station we found seemed to be the only one at the time. Luckily, it was a 24 hour station…except that when we got there it was closed for ten minutes. We stood around outside in the chill anxiously waiting for the man inside to finish counting his registers and activate the pumps and open up the doors so we could stock up in gas and 6 hour energy shooters. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road. Anthony was driver, I was navigator, and Mat was DJ. Rachel ended up falling asleep even after chugging a 24oz. coffee.

The drive was long, but we kept ourselves awake with music and Dane Cook. We passed Yuma, crossed the Boarder Patrol into California, and began the long stretch through the desert in the black of night, only the stars lighting our way…and headlights. A little over half-way there, I glanced over Anthony’s shoulder and noticed that we were near empty in gas. I asked him if we should stop at a gas station, but he assured me we’d make it. But he didn’t account for the uphill driving and hard winds that made the car much more difficult to handle. Before we knew it, the gas light was on, nagging at us as we realized we weren’t really near any civilization. We kept our eyes peeled for a gas sign as we passed barren exits. After a while, we were getting nervous. Then I saw one and we pulled off into a small town, staring out our foggy windows, it being in the thirties outside, until we saw the gas station.

It was closed.

Not only was it closed, but it was 4am and we were completely isolated. We called 411 to find out if there was another gas station nearby. We told them we were in a town called Pine Valley, but the woman on the phone said it didn’t exist.

That was bad. We were on empty and had been on empty for miles and were stranded in a town that didn’t exist! Thankfully, someone seemed to be taking an early morning jog. Mat and Anthony asked her if there was a gas station we could go to and she told us there was one 18 miles away in another town. We were very lucky she decided to take an early run, though I think she was a little freaked out by us.

Eighteen miles later, we were able to make it to an open gas station, filling up 11.7 out of a 12 gallon tank, and made it to Mission Beach. Gathering our blankets, we snuggled into each other on the cold sand, gazing out to where the black sky met the black ocean, hearing the waves slip in and out. It was very surreal. And then the sun came up.

That day we had breakfast on the beach. I took a whim in the ocean, even though it was icy cold. Rachel collected seashells. Anthony buried his feet in sand. Mat enjoyed a peaceful walk down the beach. It was one of the best mornings I had had in a long time and one of the best adventures so far. 

As much as we wanted to stay, we had to return to Arizona in order for Mat and I to get to work on time. Six hours later, we were back to our demanding lives. Though it was a short trip, it was a whim worth remembering! Next time, we’ll plan to stay longer.

Fortune Cookie Part 2

Christanna RowaderLeave a comment

 

The next morning, Mandy readied herself for work, popping in her mouth one of her medications and downing a cup of black coffee along with it. She gave Sam a call to ask him for a ride and he gladly obliged, even though Mandy couldn’t get rid of the sense of being a burden.
The two of them made it to work on time, Sam talking most of the way about the power outage the night before and how scared his cat was. Mandy listened quietly as usual, never saying more than she had too.
Work at the office of iAndroid was the same. Mandy sat inside her cubicle a couple paces away from Sam’s cubicle amongst a long line of many identical cubicles, bleakly watching her computer screen flash in front of her. Nothing was more mundane than this. And it couldn’t get any worse as far as Mandy was concerned.
Within the room, Mandy could hear two women and a man burst into laughter suddenly. This made Mandy jump out of her stupor and distract her away from her computer.
“What’s going on?” Mandy heard the woman directly across from her say.
“Just another prank,” a man’s voice answered. Mandy couldn’t see who it was.
“Oh, shit,” Mandy heard another say.
In one of those unexplainable moments, Mandy had the sudden urge to duck. In that instant, a baseball came flying right over her head, smashing against her computer. The computer fell backwards and off the desk, crashing in a fit of sparks onto the floor, the ball rolling passed it.
Before Mandy could respond, the entire room was in an uproar, people running towards her cubicle, bombarding her with concerned looks and questions, none of which Mandy could make out yet. She kept repeating “I’m fine” over and over until Sam pushed his way through to her side.
“What happened?” said an incredibly stern voice. Mandy looked up and saw Ms. Williamson standing very taught in her blue suit and looking very unhappy.
Everyone skirted back into their personal cubicles, afraid to suddenly be involved. Ms. Williamson didn’t move a muscle, but her eyes shifted from Mandy to the computer and to everyone else in the room until finally someone gave themselves up as the culprit.
“Sorry,” Mandy heard a woman’s voice say as Ms. Williamson disappeared around the cubicle’s corner to deal with whoever that was.
Mandy unraveled herself from her crouched position and looked at her smashed computer. For some reason she thought of the smashed front end of her car at that moment. And still she felt nothing, not even a twinge of anger.
“Nice instincts,” Sam said to her, breaking Mandy’s rumination.
“Thanks,” she murmured, not even giving it a second thought.
The rest of the day at work passed uneventfully. By the time Mandy was given a new computer, it was time to clock out. Sam and Mandy walked out to the parking lot, Sam rambling on about Mandy’s incident and Mandy listening intently as usual. They were crossing through the parked cars when suddenly Mandy grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him back quickly, as though something was to hit him.
But nothing happened. Sam was surprised by her sudden urgency and looked down at her contorted expression. She wasn’t looking at him, but her grip on his arm was surprisingly tense.
“Hey, what’s going on with you?” he asked, gently loosening her grip with his free hand.
For a moment, Mandy was confused. Her instinct was to pull Sam back from something she thought she saw…or felt…or saw out of the corner of her eye, an impeding collision.
But nothing had happened.
Mandy relaxed then, realizing it was nothing, and her sudden anxiety faded back into the black hole inside.
“Did you hear me?” Sam said.
Mandy looked at him then and smiled. “Yes, sorry. I guess I’m a little jumpy from yesterday’s accident.”
Sam nodded understandingly, but his hazel eyes expressed worry. He drove her home and asked if she wanted some company again, and again she declined. She entered her apartment and took out the leftover Chinese food she had in her fridge. Sticking it in the microwave, she marveled at the unfortunate occurrence earlier that day. Waiting on her food, she remembered the fortune cookie she had the night before. 
Use your instincts now, it said.
Mandy frowned, glancing over at her trash can. Without giving another thought, she moved towards the can, reached inside and pulled out the thin piece of paper.
“Use your instincts now,” she read out loud again. Then suddenly she felt herself twitch out of the way as though something was about to fly at her head, but there was nothing in the kitchen but her. The microwave beeped, signaling the food being ready, scaring Mandy nearly out of her skin.
“I am ridiculous,” she murmured to herself, tossing the fortune aside and grabbing her food out of the microwave. In ten minutes she finished all of her dinner and readied for bed. She hated this part. Sleep scared her the most. She had bad dreams—or good dreams, but it depended on whether she thought the dreams were apart of reality or not. The hole inside of her grew. This always seemed to happen around this time, after dinner.
Mandy made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen again and grabbed a butch knife from on top the counter, then swiftly went into her small bathroom and sat on the toilet. Lifting up her pajama leg, she dragged the knife quickly and forcefully against the inside of her left leg. She did about ten strokes until enough blood was able to seep out of her skin. Mandy watched in a strange hypnotic state; the blood bubbled from the gashes, trickled down her calf, sometimes catching on tiny hairs that were missed by the razor, until the trails hit the back of her heel.
Then, as though out of habit, Mandy grabbed a tissue and wiped her leg clean, gently layering clear anti-bacterial cream over the cuts. She placed the knife back in the kitchen sink, after rinsing its sides off, turned off all the lights, and went into her room.
It smelled of lavender and vanilla spices, something that was supposed to calm her, but seemed only to annoy her. Mandy hated the smell of vanilla and lavender, and especially when together. After swallowing two pills, one being a sleeping agent, the other being a prescription from her psychiatrist, she climbed into her modestly sized bed. Laying there waiting for the sleeping pill to kick in, she listened to the continuous hum of the traffic outside and hoped her mind wouldn’t begin to wander before she feel asleep. Mandy couldn’t stand to be left alone with her thoughts. So she focused her energy on listening to the outside vibrations and waited…
All the while something tugging at her concentration…
~
The sun came blaring into her window, warming her bedroom up about 5 degrees hotter than she preferred, and Mandy was all-too aware of the body nestled right beside her—right behind her!—an arm, a leg—all entwined and wrapped around her. For a second, she thought it might have been Sam, but she quickly dismissed the idea away. Sam knew she didn’t feel that way about him and he certainly wouldn’t sneak into her apartment in the middle of the night while she was out cold!
The hand moved, warm and big—bigger than Sam’s, she noticed—and traveled up her night-shirt. Mandy froze, not knowing what to expect, her green eyes wide in fear.
“Don’t move,” the man’s voice whispered. It was deeper than Sam’s and somehow oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And it didn’t matter at this point; she was too frightened to move or think, her frail body starting to shudder. Use your instincts, she thought. Use them now!

The next morning, Mandy readied herself for work, popping in her mouth one of her medications and downing a cup of black coffee along with it. She gave Sam a call to ask him for a ride and he gladly obliged, even though Mandy couldn’t get rid of the sense of being a burden.

The two of them made it to work on time, Sam talking most of the way about the power outage the night before and how scared his cat was. Mandy listened quietly as usual, never saying more than she had too.

Work at the office of iAndroid was the same. Mandy sat inside her cubicle a couple paces away from Sam’s cubicle amongst a long line of many identical cubicles, bleakly watching her computer screen flash in front of her. Nothing was more mundane than this. And it couldn’t get any worse as far as Mandy was concerned.

Within the room, Mandy could hear two women and a man burst into laughter suddenly. This made Mandy jump out of her stupor and distract her away from her computer.

“What’s going on?” Mandy heard the woman directly across from her say.

“Just another prank,” a man’s voice answered. Mandy couldn’t see who it was.

“Oh, shit,” Mandy heard another say.

In one of those unexplainable moments, Mandy had the sudden urge to duck. In that instant, a baseball came flying right over her head, smashing against her computer. The computer fell backwards and off the desk, crashing in a fit of sparks onto the floor, the ball rolling passed it.

Before Mandy could respond, the entire room was in an uproar, people running towards her cubicle, bombarding her with concerned looks and questions, none of which Mandy could make out yet. She kept repeating “I’m fine” over and over until Sam pushed his way through to her side.

“What happened?” said an incredibly stern voice. Mandy looked up and saw Ms. Williamson standing very taught in her blue suit and looking very unhappy.

Everyone skirted back into their personal cubicles, afraid to suddenly be involved. Ms. Williamson didn’t move a muscle, but her eyes shifted from Mandy to the computer and to everyone else in the room until finally someone gave themselves up as the culprit.

“Sorry,” Mandy heard a woman’s voice say as Ms. Williamson disappeared around the cubicle’s corner to deal with whoever that was.

Mandy unraveled herself from her crouched position and looked at her smashed computer. For some reason she thought of the smashed front end of her car at that moment. And still she felt nothing, not even a twinge of anger.

“Nice instincts,” Sam said to her, breaking Mandy’s rumination.

“Thanks,” she murmured, not even giving it a second thought.

The rest of the day at work passed uneventfully. By the time Mandy was given a new computer, it was time to clock out. Sam and Mandy walked out to the parking lot, Sam rambling on about Mandy’s incident and Mandy listening intently as usual. They were crossing through the parked cars when suddenly Mandy grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him back quickly, as though something was to hit him.

But nothing happened. Sam was surprised by her sudden urgency and looked down at her contorted expression. She wasn’t looking at him, but her grip on his arm was surprisingly tense.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” he asked, gently loosening her grip with his free hand.

For a moment, Mandy was confused. Her instinct was to pull Sam back from something she thought she saw…or felt…or saw out of the corner of her eye, an impeding collision.

But nothing had happened.

Mandy relaxed then, realizing it was nothing, and her sudden anxiety faded back into the black hole inside.

“Did you hear me?” Sam said.

Mandy looked at him then and smiled. “Yes, sorry. I guess I’m a little jumpy from yesterday’s accident.”

Sam nodded understandingly, but his hazel eyes expressed worry. He drove her home and asked if she wanted some company again, and again she declined. She entered her apartment and took out the leftover Chinese food she had in her fridge. Sticking it in the microwave, she marveled at the unfortunate occurrence earlier that day. Waiting on her food, she remembered the fortune cookie she had the night before. 

Use your instincts now, it said.

Mandy frowned, glancing over at her trash can. Without giving another thought, she moved towards the can, reached inside and pulled out the thin piece of paper.

“Use your instincts now,” she read out loud again. Then suddenly she felt herself twitch out of the way as though something was about to fly at her head, but there was nothing in the kitchen but her. The microwave beeped, signaling the food being ready, scaring Mandy nearly out of her skin.

“I am ridiculous,” she murmured to herself, tossing the fortune aside and grabbing her food out of the microwave. In ten minutes she finished all of her dinner and readied for bed. She hated this part. Sleep scared her the most. She had bad dreams—or good dreams, but it depended on whether she thought the dreams were apart of reality or not. The hole inside of her grew. This always seemed to happen around this time, after dinner.

Mandy made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen again and grabbed a butch knife from on top the counter, then swiftly went into her small bathroom and sat on the toilet. Lifting up her pajama leg, she dragged the knife quickly and forcefully against the inside of her left leg. She did about ten strokes until enough blood was able to seep out of her skin. Mandy watched in a strange hypnotic state; the blood bubbled from the gashes, trickled down her calf, sometimes catching on tiny hairs that were missed by the razor, until the trails hit the back of her heel.

Then, as though out of habit, Mandy grabbed a tissue and wiped her leg clean, gently layering clear anti-bacterial cream over the cuts. She placed the knife back in the kitchen sink, after rinsing its sides off, turned off all the lights, and went into her room.

It smelled of lavender and vanilla spices, something that was supposed to calm her, but seemed only to annoy her. Mandy hated the smell of vanilla and lavender, and especially when together. After swallowing two pills, one being a sleeping agent, the other being a prescription from her psychiatrist, she climbed into her modestly sized bed. Laying there waiting for the sleeping pill to kick in, she listened to the continuous hum of the traffic outside and hoped her mind wouldn’t begin to wander before she feel asleep. Mandy couldn’t stand to be left alone with her thoughts. So she focused her energy on listening to the outside vibrations and waited…

All the while something tugging at her concentration…

~

The sun came blaring into her window, warming her bedroom up about 5 degrees hotter than she preferred, and Mandy was all-too aware of the body nestled right beside her—right behind her!—an arm, a leg—all entwined and wrapped around her. For a second, she thought it might have been Sam, but she quickly dismissed the idea away. Sam knew she didn’t feel that way about him and he certainly wouldn’t sneak into her apartment in the middle of the night while she was out cold!

The hand moved, warm and big—bigger than Sam’s, she noticed—and traveled up her night-shirt. Mandy froze, not knowing what to expect, her green eyes wide in fear.

“Don’t move,” the man’s voice whispered. It was deeper than Sam’s and somehow oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And it didn’t matter at this point; she was too frightened to move or think, her frail body starting to shudder. Use your instincts, she thought. Use them now!

Xanna D Says: “Wake Up! And Whim With Me.”

Christanna RowaderLeave a comment
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term “whimming,” which I will assume that you are because I am the only person that I know who has made up this particular term, I will explain to you what it means and how I was inspired to create it. Whimming means “to go on a whim.” Now, the technical definition according to Encarta Dictionary, whim means “a passing impulse—a sudden thought, idea, or desire, especially one based on impulse rather than reason or necessity.”  I also looked up the word on dictionary.com and came up with the definition “an odd or capricious notion or desire; a sudden or freakish fancy: a sudden whim to take a midnight walk.” Apparently, whim originates from the word “whim-wham” and the definition for that one tickles my humor in a whole new way. But this isn’t about whim-whamming, but about whimming and its glorious adventures. 
The word whim is a noun, but I changed it to a verb so that I could use it more frequently. It was mid-January, before the busy spring semester was let loose, and I had found myself in a rut. It was one of those ruts where you found yourself bored, stuck, lonely, and depressed because you were bored and stuck and lonely. I had been broken up with my boyfriend of two and a half years for almost three months and still seemed to be suffering from its effects; whereas, he was able to move on and find another mate/partner/what-have-you. Of course, it was New Years Eve when I had heard the glorious news that he had found a “new love” at the beginning of December. Suffice it to say, I was dealing with it not so smoothly. The week after New Years, I had racked up four dates with four different guys, dark-haired, light-haired, tall, not so tall, skinny and meaty—I suppose you could have called it my New Years resolution…if I had one—and continued to date openly throughout the month, enjoying every bit of it (I want to clarify “dating” as “not sleeping around” for the sake of…clarity). This was not, however, a whim. I came upon “the whimming” idea when watching the movie Chaos Theory with one of the four guys, drinking margaritas and eating chips and salsa. The movie was generally humorous, Ryan Reynolds leading the way, and then the film came to the part where Reynolds’ character decided to do things he had never done before. 
Hmmm…I thought. Now keep in mind that I am a naturally very adventurous person, originating from my upbringing in the theater world, but I still held myself back from doing a lot of things I normally wouldn’t even consider doing. When the movie ended, I was struck—as if by lightning, if you will allow me to be dramatic—and I had found the way to drag myself out of the rut I had unwittingly thrown myself into. I was to go whimming!
My first whim of January was to meet a stranger (who happened to end up being guy number five) at a bar that was hosting open-mic. I had never seen an open-mic performance before and this particular bar happened to be all the way in Glendale. So I invited a couple of friends to join me on this brief road trip at 11pm on a Tuesday. None of us knew exactly where we were going or what to expect, but it didn’t matter. This was a whim, and whatever happened was gonna happen. We met at the restaurant/bar, somewhere in the middle of a pitch-black neighborhood, parked and made our way. My nerves started to twist inside my gut, knowing that we were going to meet someone I had briefly met through the internet (mind you, I do not date online), and knowing that I may be pushed to sing for open-mic (something I was definitely not prepared to do). There were hardly any people; it almost seemed awkwardly abandoned, but those who were there greeted us with friendly smiles and hellos. That’s new, I thought. Not too often do total strangers even speak to you as though it were a small country town. Then Guy Number Five—tall, dark, skinny, with incredibly intense eyes—greeted us when we reached the inside. I felt my nerves calm when I noticed how sociable and friendly he was, offering to buy all three of us drinks, only two of us accepting a couple margaritas. The night went smoothly and interestingly; I watched musicians play their guitars, sing their hearts out and was even stunned by Guy Number Five’s unique musical performance.
And then it was my turn. Granted, I am a singer, but I like to practice and prepare before going up in front of an audience consisting of bar folk to sing something that’s not even close to open-mic style music. My singing style leans more towards Broadway or classical—definitely not appropriate for open-mic. And I didn’t have a guitar, which would mean a-capella, which would, in turn, make it oh-so-empty and lonely up there! But, Guy Number Five insisted and an encouraging “hoot” from my friends and the MC got me to bravely sit on the isolated stool alone on the stage and grasp the mic firmly—very firmly. I sang “Someone To Watch Over Me”, the only non-musical, slightly jazzy song I could think of, and the bar went quiet—probably because I didn’t have an instrument to accompany me. Nonetheless, I was delighted by the cheering response once I had finished the song. I slipped off that lonely stool and blended back into the crowd. 
We returned home that evening, a rush of adrenaline searing through my body, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun I had had; a simple night-out turned into a new experience that was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. I was hooked and promised myself that I would continue my whimming adventures. Whimming can range from going out with people you wouldn’t normally hang out with, to accepting an invitation when you’d normally say no, to doing something you would usually be afraid to do. They can be big whims or small whims. But the point is to go beyond yourself and your invisible box—you never know who you might meet or what you may learn. I am continuing my whimming adventures every day and usually by myself now. Sometimes nothing happens and other times they do. Occasionally I’ll drag a friend with me, if they’re willing to whim. And, of course, I always make sure that what I am doing is safe. So start whimming, because you never know what you may find.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term “whimming,” which I will assume that you are because I am the only person that I know who has made up this particular term, I will explain to you what it means and how I was inspired to create it. Whimming means “to go on a whim.” Now, the technical definition according to Encarta Dictionary, whim means “a passing impulse—a sudden thought, idea, or desire, especially one based on impulse rather than reason or necessity.”  I also looked up the word on dictionary.com and came up with the definition “an odd or capricious notion or desire; a sudden or freakish fancy: a sudden whim to take a midnight walk.” Apparently, whim originates from the word “whim-wham” and the definition for that one tickles my humor in a whole new way. But this isn’t about whim-whamming, but about whimming and its glorious adventures. 

The word whim is a noun, but I changed it to a verb so that I could use it more frequently. It was mid-January, before the busy spring semester was let loose, and I had found myself in a rut. It was one of those ruts where you found yourself bored, stuck, lonely, and depressed because you were bored and stuck and lonely. I had been broken up with my boyfriend of two and a half years for almost three months and still seemed to be suffering from its effects; whereas, he was able to move on and find another mate/partner/what-have-you. Of course, it was New Years Eve when I had heard the glorious news that he had found a “new love” at the beginning of December. Suffice it to say, I was dealing with it not so smoothly. The week after New Years, I had racked up four dates with four different guys, dark-haired, light-haired, tall, not so tall, skinny and meaty—I suppose you could have called it my New Years resolution…if I had one—and continued to date openly throughout the month, enjoying every bit of it (I want to clarify “dating” as “not sleeping around” for the sake of…clarity). This was not, however, a whim. I came upon “the whimming” idea when watching the movie Chaos Theory with one of the four guys, drinking margaritas and eating chips and salsa. The movie was generally humorous, Ryan Reynolds leading the way, and then the film came to the part where Reynolds’ character decided to do things he had never done before. 

Hmmm…I thought. Now keep in mind that I am a naturally very adventurous person, originating from my upbringing in the theater world, but I still held myself back from doing a lot of things I normally wouldn’t even consider doing. When the movie ended, I was struck—as if by lightning, if you will allow me to be dramatic—and I had found the way to drag myself out of the rut I had unwittingly thrown myself into. I was to go whimming!

My first whim of January was to meet a stranger (who happened to end up being guy number five) at a bar that was hosting open-mic. I had never seen an open-mic performance before and this particular bar happened to be all the way in Glendale. So I invited a couple of friends to join me on this brief road trip at 11pm on a Tuesday. None of us knew exactly where we were going or what to expect, but it didn’t matter. This was a whim, and whatever happened was gonna happen. We met at the restaurant/bar, somewhere in the middle of a pitch-black neighborhood, parked and made our way. My nerves started to twist inside my gut, knowing that we were going to meet someone I had briefly met through the internet (mind you, I do not date online), and knowing that I may be pushed to sing for open-mic (something I was definitely not prepared to do). There were hardly any people; it almost seemed awkwardly abandoned, but those who were there greeted us with friendly smiles and hellos. That’s new, I thought. Not too often do total strangers even speak to you as though it were a small country town. Then Guy Number Five—tall, dark, skinny, with incredibly intense eyes—greeted us when we reached the inside. I felt my nerves calm when I noticed how sociable and friendly he was, offering to buy all three of us drinks, only two of us accepting a couple margaritas. The night went smoothly and interestingly; I watched musicians play their guitars, sing their hearts out and was even stunned by Guy Number Five’s unique musical performance.

A-capellaly singing
A-capellaly singing

 

And then it was my turn. Granted, I am a singer, but I like to practice and prepare before going up in front of an audience consisting of bar folk to sing something that’s not even close to open-mic style music. My singing style leans more towards Broadway or classical—definitely not appropriate for open-mic. And I didn’t have a guitar, which would mean a-capella, which would, in turn, make it oh-so-empty and lonely up there! But, Guy Number Five insisted and an encouraging “hoot” from my friends and the MC got me to bravely sit on the isolated stool alone on the stage and grasp the mic firmly—very firmly. I sang “Someone To Watch Over Me”, the only non-musical, slightly jazzy song I could think of, and the bar went quiet—probably because I didn’t have an instrument to accompany me. Nonetheless, I was delighted by the cheering response once I had finished the song. I slipped off that lonely stool and blended back into the crowd. 

We returned home that evening, a rush of adrenaline searing through my body, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun I had had; a simple night-out turned into a new experience that was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. I was hooked and promised myself that I would continue my whimming adventures. Whimming can range from going out with people you wouldn’t normally hang out with, to accepting an invitation when you’d normally say no, to doing something you would usually be afraid to do. They can be big whims or small whims. But the point is to go beyond yourself and your invisible box—you never know who you might meet or what you may learn. I am continuing my whimming adventures every day and usually by myself now. Sometimes nothing happens and other times they do. Occasionally I’ll drag a friend with me, if they’re willing to whim. And, of course, I always make sure that what I am doing is safe. So start whimming, because you never know what you may find.

Fortune Cookie Part 1

Christanna RowaderLeave a comment

 

Standing alone on the sidewalk, the wind blowing through her long streak of blond hair, Mandy gazed out towards the sun. The sky was a golden shade tinted with light blue as the sun slowly set below the horizon. There was nothing to expect from this day, nothing to want or need. Work at the office had been the same as always. Her computer had crashed as usual. Her daily routines had remained the same, except this time she was standing across from her car being towed away. Mandy considered herself a very attentive driver, and yet she still managed to find herself distracted enough to run into the car ahead of her. A slight fender-bender that barely dented the silver Audi, but nonetheless smashed the front end of Mandy’s blue 1988 Toyota.
When the accident occurred, Mandy barely reacted. Any emotional outburst would just be another annoyance to add to the situation. In fact, standing as she was, gazing out towards the sun, she realized she didn’t even feel anything. Not a hint of aggravation, not a sigh of frustration. Nothing. Her gaze shifted to the tow truck man, hefty and sweaty compared to her delicate, sweet frame, and she signed the paper on his clip board. Then she signed another paper from the police, the flashing red and blue lights an irritating embarrassment.
As soon as the technical details were done and over with, Mandy was able to get a ride home from a close friend. His name was Sam. He was a little taller than Mandy, a rough 5’10”, and much more roundly built. The two drove in silence, neither wanting to mention the last few hours, and Sam dropped her off at her simple apartment.
“You sure you don’t want some company?” Sam asked before Mandy closed the car door.
“Yeah, I think I need to sit and think a bit,” Mandy said, hoping there was a smile present on her face, though it didn’t feel like there was one. Sam and Mandy had been friends for six years since she started her job at the office. Mandy was a shy girl which Sam was drawn to. From the moment they met, Sam took her under his wing and became the only friend she had in the small town of Ripon, Wisconsin.
“You sure?” The look in his eyes seemed more concerned than they really needed to be.
Mandy nodded sincerely and shut the car door. Sam waited until Mandy was inside her apartment before driving off down the tree-shaded street.
As soon as she was inside, Mandy took the opportunity to throw herself down onto her bed and wait for the tears to come. Having her car totaled was the last thing she needed to happen in her already stretched-to-the-wire life. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was going to pay for the damages and the ticket she was cited. Mandy wasn’t without car insurance, but she didn’t think it was going to cover all of the expenses. So she waited with her head burrowing into her pillow for the tears to be soaked up. But they didn’t come. Everything felt…dry. There seemed to be nothing to feel for.
Pushing herself up in frustration, Mandy got up and moved into the kitchen. She rummaged through the cupboards and fridge before coming to the realization that she hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a month. There was nothing to eat except for some pasta and cereal, neither of which sounded appealing.
Snatching up her phone, Mandy dialed the nearby Chinese delivery and ordered chicken fried rice and chow mein. She figured it was probably better for her to spend money on grocery shopping, but seeing as she didn’t have a car at the moment and she didn’t want to rely on Sam, she figured this was the best decision for the time being.
An hour later, Mandy sat on her tattered couch watching Iron Chef and enjoying her chow mein. She was half way through the show when suddenly the screen flickered and flashed off. That’s when she heard the thunder rumble overhead and the lights go out. Mandy sat there for a second, bowl in hand, staring blankly at her television in the dark. She waited for the electricity to come back and heard another rumble from above.
When the power didn’t come back on, she set her bowl down on top the beat up coffee table and stumbled to the kitchen drawers for a flashlight. After searching for about five minutes, she lit up the darkness with a dull flashlight and started to place a few candles around her living room. Once she lit the candles, Mandy settled herself down on the couch and lazily watched the tiny yellow flame dance. She was amazed with herself and how well she was taking everything today. Normally she would find herself in tears, or tearing up one of her pillows in a fit of rage. But this time, nothing happened. A part of her was thankful and another part was disappointed. It was strange how numb she felt inside, as though there was a great black hole sucking in all that she felt or could feel.
And yet, maybe this was something that had been going on for longer than she thought. Something was eating away at her insides, making her feel less and less. It didn’t make sense to her.
Mandy reached out toward the candle’s flame and brushed her finger through it, feeling a brief hotness from the contact. She did it again, only slower this time, and wondered how long it might take to before she could feel its warmth burn through her. She decided it wasn’t a good idea to try and see what would be the result, curious as she was.
Having an urge to move, Mandy got up to start cleaning away her bowl and Chinese. Before she tossed the delivery bag into the trash, she dumped out the plastic wrapped fortune cookie onto the kitchen counter. She tore open the plastic and broke the cookie in half. Pulling the thin white paper out of the cookie, she leaned towards one of the lit candles and read the piece of paper out loud.
“Use your instincts now.”
The thunder crashing above made Mandy jump in surprise and then looked back down at the fortune. The orange light from the candle made the paper glow gently in the dark.
“Very funny,” she murmured to herself, then threw away the broken pieces of cookie and the fortune along with them.

Standing alone on the sidewalk, the wind blowing through her long streak of blond hair, Mandy gazed out towards the sun. The sky was a golden shade tinted with light blue as the sun slowly set below the horizon. There was nothing to expect from this day, nothing to want or need. Work at the office had been the same as always. Her computer had crashed as usual. Her daily routines had remained the same, except this time she was standing across from her car being towed away. Mandy considered herself a very attentive driver, and yet she still managed to find herself distracted enough to run into the car ahead of her. A slight fender-bender that barely dented the silver Audi, but nonetheless smashed the front end of Mandy’s blue 1988 Toyota.

When the accident occurred, Mandy barely reacted. Any emotional outburst would just be another annoyance to add to the situation. In fact, standing as she was, gazing out towards the sun, she realized she didn’t even feel anything. Not a hint of aggravation, not a sigh of frustration. Nothing. Her gaze shifted to the tow truck man, hefty and sweaty compared to her delicate, sweet frame, and she signed the paper on his clip board. Then she signed another paper from the police, the flashing red and blue lights an irritating embarrassment.

As soon as the technical details were done and over with, Mandy was able to get a ride home from a close friend. His name was Sam. He was a little taller than Mandy, a rough 5’10”, and much more roundly built. The two drove in silence, neither wanting to mention the last few hours, and Sam dropped her off at her simple apartment.

“You sure you don’t want some company?” Sam asked before Mandy closed the car door.

“Yeah, I think I need to sit and think a bit,” Mandy said, hoping there was a smile present on her face, though it didn’t feel like there was one. Sam and Mandy had been friends for six years since she started her job at the office. Mandy was a shy girl which Sam was drawn to. From the moment they met, Sam took her under his wing and became the only friend she had in the small town of Ripon, Wisconsin.

“You sure?” The look in his eyes seemed more concerned than they really needed to be.

Mandy nodded sincerely and shut the car door. Sam waited until Mandy was inside her apartment before driving off down the tree-shaded street.

As soon as she was inside, Mandy took the opportunity to throw herself down onto her bed and wait for the tears to come. Having her car totaled was the last thing she needed to happen in her already stretched-to-the-wire life. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was going to pay for the damages and the ticket she was cited. Mandy wasn’t without car insurance, but she didn’t think it was going to cover all of the expenses. So she waited with her head burrowing into her pillow for the tears to be soaked up. But they didn’t come. Everything felt…dry. There seemed to be nothing to feel for.

Pushing herself up in frustration, Mandy got up and moved into the kitchen. She rummaged through the cupboards and fridge before coming to the realization that she hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a month. There was nothing to eat except for some pasta and cereal, neither of which sounded appealing.

Snatching up her phone, Mandy dialed the nearby Chinese delivery and ordered chicken fried rice and chow mein. She figured it was probably better for her to spend money on grocery shopping, but seeing as she didn’t have a car at the moment and she didn’t want to rely on Sam, she figured this was the best decision for the time being.

An hour later, Mandy sat on her tattered couch watching Iron Chef and enjoying her chow mein. She was half way through the show when suddenly the screen flickered and flashed off. That’s when she heard the thunder rumble overhead and the lights go out. Mandy sat there for a second, bowl in hand, staring blankly at her television in the dark. She waited for the electricity to come back and heard another rumble from above.

When the power didn’t come back on, she set her bowl down on top the beat up coffee table and stumbled to the kitchen drawers for a flashlight. After searching for about five minutes, she lit up the darkness with a dull flashlight and started to place a few candles around her living room. Once she lit the candles, Mandy settled herself down on the couch and lazily watched the tiny yellow flame dance. She was amazed with herself and how well she was taking everything today. Normally she would find herself in tears, or tearing up one of her pillows in a fit of rage. But this time, nothing happened. A part of her was thankful and another part was disappointed. It was strange how numb she felt inside, as though there was a great black hole sucking in all that she felt or could feel.

And yet, maybe this was something that had been going on for longer than she thought. Something was eating away at her insides, making her feel less and less. It didn’t make sense to her.

Mandy reached out toward the candle’s flame and brushed her finger through it, feeling a brief hotness from the contact. She did it again, only slower this time, and wondered how long it might take to before she could feel its warmth burn through her. She decided it wasn’t a good idea to try and see what would be the result, curious as she was.

Having an urge to move, Mandy got up to start cleaning away her bowl and Chinese. Before she tossed the delivery bag into the trash, she dumped out the plastic wrapped fortune cookie onto the kitchen counter. She tore open the plastic and broke the cookie in half. Pulling the thin white paper out of the cookie, she leaned towards one of the lit candles and read the piece of paper out loud.

“Use your instincts now.”

The thunder crashing above made Mandy jump in surprise and then looked back down at the fortune. The orange light from the candle made the paper glow gently in the dark.

“Very funny,” she murmured to herself, then threw away the broken pieces of cookie and the fortune along with them.