"it just is what it is." how odd is that phrase? funnier to even consider that i've dubbed it as my miniature theme of - Is As Is.
What is it then, really? What is the gray? What is black and white? Why must human nature strive to place everything in card catalogs and tasteless, drab, manila folders?
I also find it odd how easy it is for some people to forgive others, and yet be so unforgiving yourself. We put out excuse after excuse for things and people just accept them. Or, we allow ourselves to continue being cowardly and thinking up the next line of reasoning.
God, it's a beautiful day outside. There have been several beautiful days. But what about the not beautiful ones? Do we just consider them "any less of a day," because there are clouds instead of sunshine? A day is still a day. 24 hours of time. We always complain that we never have enough time, but we just let it slip away... in those days between the 'beautiful' ones.
Lots of thoughts. Not much reason. Thinking I need to outlet again. This is a good dump write. Like - brain diarrhea. Just shit out all the fuzz and the clutter and try to find some clarity.
There's a nice breeze from the window. It's cool. It's soft.
God, it's a beautiful day outside.
My new favorite thing: getting in my truck, driving down the parkway with my windows down and just letting the sun shine on my face and my music play. Often, I'll wink at the soccer moms, or quickly cut off a grumpy older man to at least spark an emotional response. Any response. Stimulation. The ways we react. When I hit a stoplight I like to look at people in their cars. They think they're invisible to the world when they are in them. Some sing. Some pick their nose.
... and some. just. siiit.
those are the ones that hurt my heart. So I turn up my music just a little bit louder, and maybe flash them a smile in their rear view mirror. More often than not, they choose to look away. I find that people don't like eye contact. It scares them. Sometimes, I like to walk down a sidewalk and just LOOK. I dare them to meet my eyes and just hold that gaze for longer than a second. It's like a terrible game of chicken without the bloody outcome if both parties win. Except this time ... when you both win, you get this surge of knowing that you genuinely looked at someone.
And they looked back.
Comments (1)
keep the diarrhea flowing. :)