Houses in Binghamton.

First of all, I have to tell you - I went running in the morning...twice this week.  Crazy, I know.  Now, granted, both runs were not very far and it weren't for very long, but it's pretty significant.  In case you haven't been following my blog for very long or never stalked any of my posts from previous years, I normally don't enjoy running...at all.  And this week was no exception.  But the weather has been perking up ever since I returned from California, and for the past few months (with a number of fast-paced walking excursion exceptions) I've been making excuses like, "It's too cold outside," to justify why I decided to stay inside rather than do some cardio.  So I don't really have that as an excuse anymore, and I really do want to get some more exercise.  And I want to finally get my behavior to match my head that knows it's actually something I need, not just something I should want, especially with my high cholesterol.

I just wanted to tell someone I went running because even though it's not really Oscar-worthy to most people, it's pretty important to me and I'm going to pretend that you're all mentally encouraging me to keep going because I can do it and maybe one day I'll knock, "Run a 5K race" or "Run a 10K race" off of my bucket list (I know, they're actually not that big of an accomplishment to some, but again, this is me we're talking about).

But I digress.  I actually prefaced this post with me running because I wanted to talk about the houses I see when I run or walk around the neighborhood.  It's something I really appreciate about my neighborhood - all the houses are so different from each other.  In NYC a lot of the houses look the same or have the same style or are renovated to look like all the other same fancy houses or just oddly stick out that make all the other houses subtly say, "We're not worthy."  It's kind of bleh.

But I love looking at houses in smaller towns or areas like Binghamton because each house is pretty different from the one next to it, not just by street or area.  A lot of them seem a little rustic or run down, but sturdy and homey.  I know this sounds cliche, but I feel like they've got a deeper sense of character than a lot of houses I've seen in NYC.  And I like that.

Have you ever looked at a house (or car, even) and tried to imagine who lives there and what their life stories are like?  It's something I did all the time when I was little and when I'm not the driver I still do it to this day.  It's really fun.  If you haven't done it before, try it the next time you're on a bus or are a passenger in a car.  What makes it interesting is that even though the things you may see around the house sometimes give hints to the people living inside (e.g. pets, welcome mats, eclectic lawn gnomes, extremely neatly cut green lawns, funky mailboxes), the truth is that what is portrayed on the outside of the house doesn't always reflect what's going on inside of the house.  Don't forget that the responses to conflicts and the development of different relationships are what really makes a story unique and interesting.

That's why it's such an interesting and unique experience to imagine what the stories of people's lives are.  But after you've tried that for a couple of houses a few different times, try advancing to the next level (ha - as if this was a game or contest) and imagine how one house interacts or thinks of another one just down the street that's really different.  How do the people living in the run down, bright, sea green house interact with the people living in the expensive looking, neat, two-story house?  Is there a sense of hostility?  Jealousy?  Camaraderie?  Superficial, too-polite-it's-disgusting kind of relationships?  In the stories you're imagining, what if those things changed?  What would change them?  What would be an development that we wouldn't expect?

Ah, so much fun.  Mmm...makes me want to try my hand at a couple of short stories.  My dad asked me this weekend if I was going to write some stories soon or work on writing/publishing a book like I've always wanted to do since I was 9 years old, and I realized that I haven't written - or even thought of writing - any stories in a couple of years.  It makes me sad to think about how I've diminished my story writing over the years into "silly ideas."