There are a lot of random noises where I live. I'm not used to it. I can hear the tenants next to me rummaging around sometimes, and loud cars pulling up in the drive way below me at all hours of the night. Whenever a call pulls up, a motion light goes on right outside my window.
I can't seem to get rid of the cigarette smell in my room. How lucky for me that I chose the room with the smoker previously. I've tried everything to eliminate the nasty odor. I've wiped down the walls with diluted ammonia. I've poured baking soda onto the carpets. I've gone through boxes of candles.
Yesterday, Nick, Mo, and I were eating breakfast, and suddenly it sounded like our kitchen was going through an automatic car wash! Nick opened the door a crack to see if we were in the middle of a hurricane. Water sprayed through the door, splashing up into his surprised face. We immediately placed paper towels along the cracks in the door. Apparently, without warning, the maintenance crew cleans the outside of the apartments with a power hose. Lovely surprise.
I know that I am probably complaining about small things, and I should be thankful for the great things about my place. So I am going to be thankful, right after I vent to you on my blog. Ha ha. I am thankful for the city I live in, and the privacy I am afforded in my place because of the respectful roommates I have.
This morning, in another spiritless attempt to eliminate the smoky smell, I was trying to light a candle in my room. Since I had used this candle nearly every day for 2 weeks consistantly, the wax was nearly all the way to the bottom of the tin can, and there was barely any wick left to burn. I had to, tentatively and softly, blow on the wilting wick, coaxing the little guy into life. I didn't blow too hard, of course, because that would have over-powered the flame, and I would have lost it. I used gentle soft breaths, and paused, scrutinizing the glowing oranges and yellows. "Light up, light up" I thought (like the song). Finally the flame, receiving just the right amount of oxygen, blazed into life, and I gently set the candle onto my desk.
The candle is like a goal in life, I thought, realizing right after the thought, how corny these metaphors are that I find in my daily routines. But really, if you have a dream that you desire so terribly bad, you can't just rush into it, you'll blow it right out. Careful, thoughtful steps are needed, just like the hushed breaths of fresh oxygen, and then an examination must take place, discerning how the dream reacted to your attempts at realizing it. Did your action make the flame glow a little more, or did your action blow the fire right out? But after careful, thoughtful steps toward creating your fire, it will burn and become a reality.