Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Tag Archives: random


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Shouldered.

She asked me how I chose the bird for each portrait. “They simply fly in,” I said. 

I suppose I’ve always believed in the pure randomness of it all. That it could happen to anyone, at any time. Pain, happiness, confusion, even love. And there’s comfort in that. And if it does, simply fly in, I have to remember that one does not outweigh the other. If I can shoulder happiness, then I can do the same with the next challenge carried in. 

Sometimes I wonder, what if her kindergarten nap mat hadn’t been placed next to mine? What if she had transferred to Lincoln Elementary, from our beloved Washington? Would we still be friends? Would she still fly across the world to see me? And then we exchange emails on our current reads. Talk about the lemon boats at Roers’ bakery, our gym uniforms…and joy lands gently on my shoulder as wonder flings away. 

And isn’t it all barely more than air? Whatever the day may bring, this winged moment, all will be shouldered. Even, ever, love. 

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Today’s new page.

I imagine she thought she was introducing us to something new when Ms. McCarty assigned us the book Lord of the Flies. She had underestimated the previous hour we had spent with the senior boys in the gymnasium, playing (barely surviving) a game of dodge ball. Still, it was nice to be seen, to have some affirmation as I sat dazed in the front row, with the word Voigt tattooed across my forehead. 

I suppose I’ve always been looking. In the books. Not only to see myself in the situation of the characters, but the authors. Right from the start, I was Beezus. I was Ramona the Pest. I was Beverly Cleary. I was the dancing of words on the page. Because if the simple arrangement of words could change the story, why couldn’t I do that in real life — simply move the words around. 

Books made everything possible. All that randomness of words on the page. Of lives being lived. Anything could happen at any time, pain, happiness, confusion, even love. 

Oh, I’m still often dazed, but for much better reasons.  As I Hemingway the streets of Paris, or when we connect with the words beneath my fingers — when our stories gather us in, on today’s new page. 

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Otter to otter.

Maybe everyone who saw the otters that morning went home and played Wordle and thought that it was made just for them, but it still made me feel special. Imagine that, a little word like “otter” could make me feel a part of this big, magical world! It made my heart spin just like the seemingly Disney characters right there in the water.

The thing is, we never know what will connect us. I wrote it so long ago, but it holds true, and I try to remind myself daily — “If I’m not happy in this time, in this place, I’m not paying attention.” And when you start to see things, it becomes, well, easier to see things. Easier to point them out. I had a teacher tell me once, it can be as simple as changing the article. From “the” to “a”. Here’s an example: If I were to say, “I was wandering down the road,” – that sounds pretty ordinary, “the” road makes it sound like I travel it every day. Now, if I were to change that to “I was wandering down a road,” — oh, the mystery that arises! Which road is this? What could happen next?!

And isn’t that just like life? It’s always the small changes, I suppose — the little observations, the different perspectives, that can give us a whole new view. I suppose the cynic would call my otter to otter experience, simply a random force of nature. I’m sure they could evaluate the statistics. Show me the graph. I don’t care. For me, it was magic. I will always choose the joyful splash of magic!

It’s a new day! I’m going to wander down a road!!!

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Josi and Lola

In tenth grade we started reading Lord of the Flies, and for some reason, re-enacted scenarios from the book in gym classes.

Once a month the tenth grade girls shared the gym with the senior class boys and played matball. Matball was like kickball, except it used the entire gym and the bases were mats. If anyone listened to the rules, it was hard to tell. The concern for each girl was not really winning or losing. If you were able to go to your next hour class without the word Wilson or Voit imprinted on your face, you considered it a victory.

I remember the teacher telling us, if you did, in fact, get hit in the face, you were still “safe” and could keep playing. But were we? The dizzying blow to the face never felt good, least of all safe.

It was hard to settle into the practicality of typing class after ducking and dodging for an hour, but the tap of the keys would eventually lower our heart rates, until the teacher announced a words per minute test, and once again we were off to the races.

During the first timed test I typed my name – Josi Hi. I tried to convince the teacher that this is what I was actually going by these days, but she didn’t buy it. An even harder sell was for my friend Lisa Podolski, who would, for the remainder of the year be known as Lola, which grew naturally into Lola Falana.

Much to our surprise, the real Lola Falana was playing at the Carlton Room in Minneapolis. Josi Hi and Lola Podolski, out of respect for the mere karma of it, went to see her for our sixteenth birthdays.

We took comfort in the randomness of it all. I still do. I don’t know what today’s lesson will be, but dizzying or not, I’m going to keep playing, and make my way to the show!