i am long on staying. i am slow to leave, especially when it comes to you my friend. you have taught me to slow down, and to prop up my feet. it's the fine art of being who i am. and i can't figure out why you want me around. i'm not the smartest person i have ever met. but somehow that doesn't matter, no it really never mattered to you at all. *and at the risk of wearing out my welcome. *at the risk of self-discovery, *i'll take every moment, *and every minute that you give me. 'cause if you sit at home you're a loser, couldn't you find anything better to...
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i have a couple hours, so here i sit, enjoying one of my favorite pastimes, people watching. the airport is a great place to practice such a hobby. even if for only a moment, thousands of paths collide at one, single terminal. they walk by in a hurry, rushed to get to the gate, to get to the plane, to get to the city, to get to wherever it is they are supposed to be. all these next steps in their journey are unknown to me as they walk by my seat against the window. but i enjoy watching them...
Read Morewe all have our weaknesses and i am no exception. perhaps you are numerically challenged [math] or visually challenged [color blind]. some are horizontally challenged [short] or financially challenged [broke]. i would like to state for the record i am directionally challenged. what i mean by this is that unless i have a map in front of me, in a city i've lived in for longer than 5 years, or the sun is out, i cannot tell south from north, east from west. in my mind, it seems west should always be to my left and east to my right....
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sometimes, it's hard for me to imagine what she was like when she was young. my mother, she was beautiful. her dark eyes must have drove the boys wild and her shinny hair was adored. she set off on her own at 18, confident in what she did know and naive of what she didn't. her first date with my dad was a result of a bet. her boss was sure he was married. she, though they'd never spoken, knew he wasn't. she was right, the $20 was hers. my dad didn't think it fair she made money off of him...
Read Morerunners are crazy people. they move at an insanely rate of speed and over long stretches of ground only to end where they first began. for months they train through sun, wind and rain. they push their bodies incredibly hard only to spend the days after recovering. they aren't chasing after a ball, or trying tackle somebody else. they know they won't win. their purpose is to beat themselves, their own time. this really makes no sense to me. but last week, i became one of them. or at least i became a wanna-be [which might actually make less sense than actually being one] surrounded...
Read Moreit's a rainy night at java nation...i could not be enjoying it more. a chai tea in my left hand and a black pen in my right. i watch the drops fall outside the windows and the cars splash as they hurry by. purple, black and yellow umbrellas float across the framed glazing. i like the yellow one the best. there is peace. life is comfortable. it is easy. i am fulfilled. i am at 'home.' 'home' has become a relative term. it is not the big front porch i dream of having someday or found in the city in which i grew up. it's not...
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