The world is left behind

Did you know that there is a word for that feeling that you get when you jump into cold water?

I was trying to figure out how to be interpreted. There isn’t anything I want more than to be true; to express truthfully, without fillers; without sounding like, ”Ah! yes! i finally figured it out and now i have to let everyone know!”, while covering how I truly feel; without fluffy, extravagant words and complicated sentences. My blog, as stated in my bio, is not intended to do much of anything. If something grabs you, then that’s just two people, having a conversation without ever opening our mouths or connect a gaze, form different parts of this technical world. I say what is on my very thought, when I feel like it’s gone passed the state of insanity. I feel like when I type it, write it or jot it down, it leaves my mind, in a productive manner, whether 1 or 100 individuals read it.

Here’s a random: My love for the world began whilst sitting at a computer in 1996, in my classroom, 6th grade, playing Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego? (haha, are you singing the song now, all of my 90’s babies? ;)) I remember zoning into the screen, literally smelling the air of wherever Carmen had ventured. I remember the day and time of day, as I felt that wind of excitement rush through me, the feeling in my blood as I (Carmen) would stop and speak to the locals. Sometimes I would click three or four times on one person or just walk around different areas of the cities, just for fun, forgetting the objective of the game. Then, one vacation to Hershey Park Pennsylvania, I found a pamphlet in a hotel lobby and skimmed through it, my heart and mind flourished with excitement. I was paralyzed in awe of by the sight of Maine. Maine, I thought to myself. There is a place as magical as I had imagined. Then I went home, clueless as to how it all works, and on my land-line phone, I requested info about each town that I thumbed through. One by one, every week I would receive these magazines telling historical stories of the towns and I imagined at least living there once. I was 11.

What does this have to do with anything? Nothing. and THAT is exactly why I am typing this. Coffee and an open window, the sound acoustic guitar, strumming a very pleasant tune.

The word for the rush, deep gasp for air in cold water is

Mammalian Diving Reflex


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wayfarer*health nut*nationally certified fitness coach*writer !

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