I never would have guessed Walmart would give me hope. I never really expected it from one of the saddest shopping places I know. A designer boutique, perhaps, or one of those specialty shops with a focus. Yeah. They could give a guy hope. But Walmart? That place we go because it’s cheap, not stylish, with the smelly bathrooms and scuffed-up floors?
Well. I guess it happens sometimes.
“More Than a Moment”
It’s not that I don’t want to get married
it’s simply the fact that I can’t
but what would it matter even if I did
when I know how they all end anyways
Well I guess they don’t all end
but you know what I mean when I say
that most of them do go anyways.
My thanks to the man who lied to my face. His sniggering tone and that smirk he showed me made me feel deep inside those recesses of my intuition the falseness of his words. He could not fool me–but I would not be fooled into false understanding. I sought out sources stronger than his sordid sounds and confirmed my suspicions: That to my face he had spoken with such falseness not even the devil himself would have found it fit to speak.
It’s been a while since I’ve given good time to writing, but it really is my favorite passion. No matter how many leadership roles I’ve had, no matter how many math classes I’ve taken, no matter how many electives I’ve indulged in–nothing brings me back to myself like writing does. I often compare words to blood, the act of writing itself to bleeding–blood-letting, if you will, that cathartic process of expelling the bad humors while holding onto the good.
This week I’m continuing my series of writing exercises and wrapping up the chapter on what makes a story. The exercise is simple: Look back at opportunities not taken. I guess often we look at the choices we’ve made that lead somewhere, but forget the choices that did the opposite–those choices that led nowhere. In stories, however, it’s those choices that make something happen that we follow to the end. If we can identify those choices that cause the story to stop, we can focus on writing about those choices that take us places.
Riddle me this: How can you tell me one moment you don’t care what I do, that it’s my own business and the government shouldn’t stop me, but then tell me you support legislation that takes away my rights? How can you tell me that you oppose the amendment, but you’re going to vote in favor of it? How can you tell me we’re all sinners and in an instant reduce my entire life to one of your misjudged laws?
Ah, Politicians! How art thine lies construed?
Shouldn’t a want for less legislation put you against these bills? Shouldn’t stating you don’t care cause you to favor equal rights? How is it you can speak one thing while looking me in the eyes and moving your hands in another? I just don’t understand. How can you argue in favor of personal rights and then vow to abolish them?
I don’t understand.
Republicans. The sad part is I don’t completely disagree with them, their goals and values, but the more I learn about the party–the more I deal with them daily–the less I think I could ever stand behind them.
