Stay Earth Bound, Petite Balloon Maven!

Fall came. In one day. First overcast day since I moved here almost 2 months ago. Cold too, announcing his arrival. That particular chill, which hints at silence and the end of noteworthy experiences, lengthening the shadows until only fond memories remain, was present in full force as well. (I’ve written about Autumn before.)

I have two major experiences to share.

The first occurred last night. I was invited to a dinner concert by a coworker of mine. He is of Armenian descent and the musicians were friends of his. He happened to have an extra ticket and I expressed interest in going. The price was $30, but that included an 8 course dinner. Not bad, and I ended up leaving with a hefty box of leftovers. The atmosphere was warm and congenial, and Andy introduced me to a number of his friends, all of whom welcomed me in as though I were one of the family. That kind of thing makes me yearn for a heritage. My nearest European roots were my dad’s grandparents, immigrants from Germany and Sweden, none of whom I ever met. Any blood relations in those countries are now too obscured to be family. So I’m basically whitebred American, and even then, none of my family has strong ties to any particular geography or culture.

It’s sad, really, how disconnected we are from our roots these days. There are two reasons America has no “White Pride” or “Caucasian Heritage month.” The first is the obvious political argument that whitey already oppresses everyone else enough (by celebrating all their cultures and giving them preferential treatment in academia, public policy, and the workplace.) The second is that we don’t have a culture to celebrate. The term “American culture” would be laughed out of any serious sociological discussion. There is localized heritage in some parts of the country, but as a whole, we have no discernable roots that we can call distinctly our own.

On the other hand, this was no strictly Armenian event, as ticket sales were open to the general public. In fact, such an event could only take place in America: An Armenian, an Assyrian (by lineage), and a Mexican, playing Persian instruments, in a Chinese restaurant, with Arabic belly dancing. The musicians were phenomenal, especially the qanun player. A qanun is an Egyptian harp, played on its side by plucking with a finger-mounted quill on each hand. It’s an extremely difficult instrument to play and the man, Ishmael, deftly walked his hands about the strings with such nonchalant speed and accuracy that one wondered if he was even trying. The most interesting facet of the music was that a lot of it was improvisational, but its complexity belied that fact, especially on a 22 note scale. (I highly recommend you immerse yourself in some quarter-tonal repertoire, it will change your concept of what harmony is.)

I was somewhat concerned when Andy said to me, “Bring some dollar bills for the belly dancers.” That called to mind infuriatingly persistent ideas of lurid females, clad in the most minimal of garments, undulating erotically while lust-crazed men stuffed their raiment with cash a la the strip club. But I’d never seen belly dancing before so I didn’t know what to expect. Fortunately my flesh was severely let down. I was actually kind of surprised at the heavily artistic aspect of it. The dancers exhibit the utmost grace, utilizing the flowing qualities of their dress and the enormous shawl that accompanies it, as well as lots of expressive hand motions and a step like leaves falling upon water. I described to Tia as “Purple and pink and shiny and silky and jingly and flashy and flowing and whooshy all the same time.” I know she would have gone mad to have that dress. It’s no surprise to me now why she is drawn to it. Except for the deliberately sensual aspect of it (and maybe even that too, perhaps), it’s all Tia.

The other event, from which the title is drawn, was this evening’s trip to the Great Mall in Milpitas. Clad internally in a gaudy assortment of Skittles colors, it’s about as large as the Super Mall in Auburn, WA, and so took me a very long time to examine. It includes a multi-screen megatheater, and a skate park, which I thought interesting. At least they’re giving those kids some place to play, and probably making a killing at it, too. But first, I was greeted with a frustration. I drove the perimeter of the mall to see where the best parking was. This was a foolish pursuit from the outset because it’s Saturday, and near back-to-school time, so the mall was an absolute zoo. Anyway, ‘round the front I happened upon two black ladies preparing to depart from a space not 500 feet from the door. I thought, “Sweet, primo real estate.” They sure took their sweet time pulling out, mostly because of a family who had pulled into the adjacent space and were taking their sweet time getting out of the car. Can’t blame them for that. So they finally began to pull out of the space, quite unsuccessfully I might add; those spaces are too tightly packed. But just as they were coming out of the space, a self-important looking man in a luxury sports car zooms straight into the spot I had been waiting a good 5 minutes to occupy. It’s little, insignificant events like that that make me lose my temper the most. So, like any good road-rager, I angrily pounded on my horn and called him various unsavory names. I probably should have gotten out and explained the situation, but I doubt he would have cared, based on the haughty attitude I perceived from him. So as I drove by I made sure he saw me and flipped him off with the sourest of countenances.

*sigh* I guess it’s good that I don’t have a fish on my bumper. This is one of those things I really need to seek the Lord about. It’s those little fits of rage that will do me in when some larger frustration obstructs my happy little life and I say exceedingly hurtful words to someone and completely throw my witness out the window. Of course, I may not have noticed this incident so acutely if Tia hadn’t become very upset when I told her about it. Her reasons aside, to see it affecting someone else so strongly is clear evidence that it’s a problem. I’ve known I have some kind of anger issues for a long time, and it crops up every once in a while, but I think I want to take it seriously this time. I can tell already that it’s going to be one of those irritating issues that I cannot resolve myself, but must let God’s Spirit work it out within me. I guess the best I can do is to keep praying for him to keep me savvy of my state of mind and immediately turn to him in such instances of impatience.