Men as if trees
I tried the experiment I mentioned before. For a week I was going to intently and actively care about the people I was around. I chose for a week to care about the guy at Arby's, the girl at Target, the oddly friendly guy at Uno's during my date, and also about the guy's I worked with. It was hard for me, because I've become hard. It was also right.
My car is a stick shift, as is the car of the guy at the Arby's between my Cincinnati shop and my house in Columbus. He cut my sandwich in half because it would make it easer to drive. He learned how hard it was to drive, shift, and eat when he was driving his new bride to Pigeon Forge for their honeymoon seven years ago. They could see Dollywood, and that was good. They have two kids. They are getting a divorce. He vows to protect the kids.
The last time I was in Pigeon Forge I saw a lady named June and met her son Cody. He was brave and sad. I never spoke to her.
The girl at target crosses her arms across her chest because too many men have looked at her wrong.
One guy I worked with does a great PR accent. We're doing a project in PR, the firm we're working with speaks a little English, so I will always be on the line until we get someone on the line who's English is better than my Spanish. My phone line dropped out so I couldn't be heard. The other guy from my company continues in English, but with his best fake Mexican accent. It worked. Hilarious.
A strange number of people really like cats.
The guy at UNO's does art and looks like an accountant.
The girl at the store doesn't know what she wants to do and will probably end up a doctor.
The other kid wants to be a doctor, and probably won't.
One lady says, "Not a problem" too much when she's nervous.
One great guy has lived the wrong life, and his best angels and most stubborn demons are engaged in a cage match 3/4" from the back of his retina.
One guy's wife was a "spear holder" in an opera. I don't know what that means.
I think I'm better now than I was before.
Everything beautiful requires risk, and compassion is beautiful
Trees are safer.
My car is a stick shift, as is the car of the guy at the Arby's between my Cincinnati shop and my house in Columbus. He cut my sandwich in half because it would make it easer to drive. He learned how hard it was to drive, shift, and eat when he was driving his new bride to Pigeon Forge for their honeymoon seven years ago. They could see Dollywood, and that was good. They have two kids. They are getting a divorce. He vows to protect the kids.
The last time I was in Pigeon Forge I saw a lady named June and met her son Cody. He was brave and sad. I never spoke to her.
The girl at target crosses her arms across her chest because too many men have looked at her wrong.
One guy I worked with does a great PR accent. We're doing a project in PR, the firm we're working with speaks a little English, so I will always be on the line until we get someone on the line who's English is better than my Spanish. My phone line dropped out so I couldn't be heard. The other guy from my company continues in English, but with his best fake Mexican accent. It worked. Hilarious.
A strange number of people really like cats.
The guy at UNO's does art and looks like an accountant.
The girl at the store doesn't know what she wants to do and will probably end up a doctor.
The other kid wants to be a doctor, and probably won't.
One lady says, "Not a problem" too much when she's nervous.
One great guy has lived the wrong life, and his best angels and most stubborn demons are engaged in a cage match 3/4" from the back of his retina.
One guy's wife was a "spear holder" in an opera. I don't know what that means.
I think I'm better now than I was before.
Everything beautiful requires risk, and compassion is beautiful
Trees are safer.
1 Comments:
This is very, very very good.
Thank you...I think I will try it when I go to Jungle Jim's...I'll keep you posted.
Peace,
Justin
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