Sometimes when I’m feeling a bit small in this huge planet we live in, I wait until 1 a.m, open the windows in my living room, turn on Fleet Foxes and just blow bubbles. The street is absolutely quiet (unless of course I decide to do it on a weekend, in which case drunken people stumble down the road and are both perplexed and delighted by the bubbles). But I don’t like people to see me. It’s more just for me – a secret activity I like to do all alone. When I lived in the building 2 doors down, it had a lovely huge roof deck that I took advantage of regularly. I bought a bubble machine and sat slightly back from the front edge and just turned it on during rush hour. I figured that it would brighten up people’s day who were just stuck in the monotony of a routine. I think that I went through about 7 litres of bubble solution over a summer. That sucker pumped out about 500 bubbles a minute that would just drift out on the wind. It was pretty awesome. I miss that building for that one reason.
Everything about this apartment now brings me joy – but I do miss my rooftop bubbles. I suppose I could get another bubble machine – I’m just always worried that people will be upset if the bubbles hit the cars… some people are sensitive about that sort of thing. Which is another reason why I relish the darkened street, it’s a bit more sneaky and incognito that way 
The bubbles don’t show up quite as vividly as they would in the sun, but when the moon is out they still sparkle, just in a different way. At any given time you can see about 3-4 bottles of bubble solution on my windowsill. Currently I have strawberry, banana and chocolate chip scented ones, and one standby old-school kind too, for those times I just want to get ‘er done.
I’m trying to take baby steps to bringing some good new things into my life. I keep thinking if each day I do a few things to improve my circumstances – whether that be swimming, sending out resumes, working on new Bittersweets, or trying something new entirely, eventually things will just start falling into place.
This Buddha used to be in a Chinese restaurant back in the 40’s or 50’s I think. My mom got it in an antique store, but decided after a couple of years (and much begging, pleading and coercion from me) that he just didn’t go with her decor anymore. So I very willingly adopted him. I think she believes that I’m merely storing him here until she decides she wants him back. She will have to pry him out of my cold dead hands, as he and I have become quite the team. Anytime I need a bit of luck I rub his shiny little head, or put found-on-the-street coins in the little dishes by his feet. It’s a bit like throwing pennies into fountains, except I’m throwing them at an inanimate jolly fat man instead who looks like he’s trying to impersonate a candy apple. An ECSTATIC candy apple. He used to have a fan in his hand, but I thought it far more appropriate if he held onto a lollipop instead. Everyone can use a little bit more sweetness in their lives, right?