Thursday, February 21, 2013

things that say a lot about people:



some thursday morning writing / reposted from my personal blog
the way in which they treat the waiter/waitress
how they feel about the weather
whether they dog ear pages or highlight in books
fingernails
and hands in general
their preferred creative outlet
how much they dread/enjoy talking on the phone
whether or not they drink coffee
if they ever forget to eat
how honest they are with themselves (and others)
if they correct your grammar
and whether or not they get nervous before haircuts.

i. i leave notes like pieces of a map to find me at every restaurant i go. hello and thank you and the food was good and perhaps a hastily drawn sketch. i haven't painted in awhile and i was never good at art like my grandpa, but something is better than nothing. in the end, they'll stick somewhere, whether in memory or the bottom of a cup. it's better to be kind. you don't know what the day was like.

ii. can you love the cloudy sky and still adore sun? is there a way to balance the dichotomy of winter's chill and summer's warmth? i am a living breathing opposite and i crave gray skies as much as i need blue, i wait for rainy days and taste wind in my teeth, i go barefoot in the grass and feel snow in my bones.

iii. come see my bookshelf, i say, but careful, don't touch. each book is a museum until the first rip, crease, stain, and then it is a coffee shop, a place to slip in the worries of monday and the way he held your hand and how good tea is with a friend. they hold life's spills, but unlike milk, it's nothing to cry over.

iv. for the first time in two years, my nails are long enough to paint, and maybe it's silly but growing them out was one of my smallest achievements but happiest accomplishments. what is it about a quick swipe of polish that makes even the worst days seem better? don't mind my cuticles, please. and i still have dirt under my fingers from the summer -- there's a garden in my hands. metaphorically? maybe.

v. watch people's hands and you will see the people. sometimes, they make me cry. you can close your eyes and guard your face but your heart never lost connection to your fingers.

vi. i am an explorer, she says. and of what, i ask? and she throws open her arms wide to take in the world and yells, everything! like she's claiming it as her own. how can that be? i ask again, and she breathes deep and her freckles aren't just paint anymore. because the world is ours to write in. (and sometimes i talk about myself in third person)

vii.  people love to talk on the phone and an hour long conversation with friends too far away is good for the soul. but i need to see your eyes, need to watch your face. it's too hard to listen and not be in the same place. and if that's a poem please don't call me a poet because there's nothing quite so sad as the distance between hello and goodbye, and it's always somehow tucked between the second to last ring.

viii. there is no better scent than that of roasted coffee beans. it's up there with the woody pine dust you find in hardware stores, the cinnamony must scent you find yourself breathing in in october. hand me a cup of that and I can conquer the world. black please, but only if I'm feeling lonely.

ix. julia child said, "if you're afraid of butter, use cream." and that's really all i have to say on that subject.

x. if you tell me a secret i promise to keep it and i'll tuck your story next to mine like the book everyone loved but never got around to reading again. give me a page to write in between the lines and i will say hello and you are beautiful and life is grand. sometimes you have to be brave before you can be honest. do you know that grey is my favorite color? it's like the color of the heavens after a plane ride, after a good rain cry, after finally coming home. butter yellow may be soft but grey is warm and when i think of honesty of think of november skies.

xi. use the word ain't once and i may correct you, twice and i'll only wince. calling people out online (or in public) over grammar only puts people on the defense and for what? we are all homemade and mismatched and folded over again and again because of the peculiar ways of letting go. i am not afraid of spiders, falling, or tight spaces, so why should incorrect grammar bother me?

xii. do you know that the last time i cut my hair i was eleven and it was all the way down my back? i was in the awkward stage of almost becoming a teenager (what an awful word) and i had just gotten glasses and when i saw it around my shoulders, i wanted to cry. it'll grow out again, everyone said, and even though years have passed and i've shed old hurts and memories like last year's clothes, i still keep my hair long. 

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