Why is it that the only time I end up blogging this year is when something is bleh, or when I am stuck in the car going somewhere? My droid (affectionately named Beepo for the sheer amount of times it has interjected such a noise into telephone conversation) is apparently good for something other than aggravation. I am on my way to Rochester again for to make merry on the Yule, and my cousin and her gentleman compatriot have kindly agreed to give Rym and myself a ride to the old home. I told her that they needn’t come all the way out to New York, as it was out of their way by a significant margin, but they decided that a day in the city might be a fun diversion, and besides, there were other relatives nearby that they could swing by to see. Shaking off the last of a recent head cold, I played a somewhat spacey tour guide for the two of them, and together we took in the sights at Saint John the Divine, and poked around Chinatown a bit. It always makes me feel weird, idling around my work neighborhood during a holiday, and I can escape the constant feeling that I really ought to be getting back, even though the studio is empty and the workstations off. We came there on a mission for cheap swords and cheaper dumplings, and I feel I was able to deliver them to a decent solution on both counts.
I always forget that just because the novelty of an area has worn off for me, there are still people for whom it holds a fun that is not of the everyday. Thinking on it, I myself feel like a tourist inside grand old churches, as I am still entranced by the light and the quiet stone, and have yet to become accustomed to the everyday rituals performed within. Cathedrals and Japanese temples both inspire in me a similar sort of feeling, that of being solemn and thoughtful and small. I like that feeling, that quiet dignified moment separate from any religious musings. Perhaps when a place is large, old, and quiet, one adopts a frame of mind to match the weight of the history and silence.