AS YOUR BLACK HAIR BLOWS AND THE CLOCK STRIKES 4 PM
I spent the afternoon with you, inadvertently. We praised the Lord together and laughed with our mutual friends and shifted uncomfortably in each of our seats. You grabbed the knot in your tie as I wrung my hands. Your wide eyes danced across my face. Your knee bounced up and down as I took the seat next to you at the sandwich place. You looked at me meaningfully and then looked down at your hands. We got back in the car, and you and your broad shoulders gratuitously took up a third of the backseat. And there was me— hair still wild even though straightened, running around in a red coat only held together by its name. When it was time to leave, you offered me your warm right hand (even the appendages of you are brawny,dear) and said with a smile, ”Diane, it was a pleasure.” I bid you adieu and told you to be safe, and drove off in my father’s (nearly) derelict truck.
I feel a bit sorry for that girl who was sitting in-between us.Today, there was a maelstrom of all the things that you and I yet leave unsaid, and she was caught in the middle.
DIRTY RED JEEPS AND LONG WALKS (or, why my heart feels divided sometimes)
I don’t mind the 3.5 mile walk from my 2nd bus stop to home, especially on days where the bus driver arrives whenever he feels like it (like today). But I can’t tell you how relieved I felt when I saw you in your Jeep at a traffic light. Seeing you— tow-headed and broad-shouldered, with your broad smile—was great. You turned off into a parking lot.
"Where are you going?" you ask. Your flaxen hair is almost hidden by a striped skull-cap.
"Home. Bus hasn’t arrived. Thought I’d be marginally more warm walking than standing."
"You wanna hop in? I can’t drive you far but at least something…”
I just shrug, smile and pull on the door handle. And you unlocked your door and let me in. We conversed, briefly, awkwardly, earnestly. When you let me out, I could feel the warmness of your heart, and it helped warm me from the inside out. Your patience warmed my fingers. Your smile warmed my toes. Your laugh warmed my face. And your kindness warmed my heart.
“Imagine there is a bank account that credits your account each morning with $86,400. It carries over no balance from day to day. Every evening the bank deletes whatever part of the balance you failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course? Each of us has such a bank. Its name is time. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to a good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no over draft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day’s deposits, the loss is yours. There is no drawing against “tomorrow.” You must live in the present on today’s deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success. The clock is running. Make the most of today”—(via fuckyeahwisewords)
“ARE YOU TELLIN’ ME THAT YOU DIDN’T SEND THE RENT?! Man, I ain’t tryin’ to move again! I ain’t tryin’ to move to this bed, or that TV or anything else, ever again! This is DUMB.”—my mother, talking to my father about how he forgot to mail the rent because he didn’t have stamps
I have no patience for people who know the consequences and still choose stupidly. One of my best friends is about to ruin his life. And I’ve given my best in trying to help him to be reasonable; but he’s going to destroy himself.
I love having money but grow tired of having to work for it.
Tutoring is lucrative and enjoyable when you have a bright, kind student.
Blue Eyes is a young Atticus Finch. Atticus Finch is an archetype of “men I want to marry”. I hadn’t talked to Blue Eyes in weeks out of fear. I finally had the courage to hit on him yesterday with (moderately) positive results.