When I write about people

I like them to know I'm writing about them.

Not by telling them, but with the hope that they may read what I'm writing, realize "Oh no! That's me she's mentioning!" and then ask me about it.

I don't write about people to bad mouth them or make them feel bad about who they are. I write about them with the hope that when they realize they are being written about, it will spark a conversation.

"Hey, I read your blog last night. I noticed you said something about a person wearing purple pants. That's me, isn't it?" "You? You don't wear purple pants." "I definitely own purple pants." "No, no. You have been wearing red pants lately. Trust me, I've noticed." *winking face* And then we continue to discuss their wardrobe.

As if I'm really someone to discuss wardrobes. Have you seen what I wear? I need my personal stylist back in my life pronto. Shopping sprees again, por favor.



A break from the hopeful wishing: brought to you by sunset.

Not so much sunset as it was bright spring sky with many clouds and promises of a decent evening.

I was driving to Indianapolis this evening/afternoon (what is 5:30, exactly? Is it evening? Is it afternoon? At this point in the year, it's still light outside, so I hardly label it as evening. But it is far beyond noon.) to meet a group member for project preparation. If you're reading this, it was a bucking good time, on the reg. (here I go again, writing about people.)

Anyway. Back to the sunset/sun in the clouds.

10 years down the road, where will I be? Will I be in Indiana? Will I be in Florida? Will I talk to anyone I talk to currently? The sun was so beautiful that for a brief moment in time, I thought to myself, "Maybe I don't belong in Florida."

And that was the first time I've thought that outside of Florida.

I felt betrayed. Surely I was not fully aware of what I had just processed. Did I really catch myself thinking that maybe I should be staying in Indiana? What is here for me in Indiana?

What is in Florida for me? What is waiting for me anywhere?

Nothing. I must make my own opportunities.

Rounds of bored

Round 1:

Coffee.

COFFEE! I MEAN I'M DRINKING COFFEE! I LOVE COFFEE. I LOVE LIFE! I LOVE BOOKS I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SUBBING JOB YES!!!!!

Round 2 (continuous):

Stuffed nose.

Eyb don eben know whas going onb.

Round 3:

Reading.

The Great Gatsby. I never read it in High School, so why not now? It's the perfect setting! Or I could eat food.

Round 4:

Lasagna.

Quick now! Go home! Grab lasagna! Return to work! MICROWAVE THAT PUPPY. Enjoy the folds of pasta and intricate meshing of cheese with sauce as you

INTERCEPTION

I can't print. Help me.

Round 5:

Lasagna.

Who doesn't love room temperature lasagna? Garfield. And me. But any lasagna is better than no lasagna. AMIRITE?

Round 6:

UFO's

Otherwise known as unidentified flying objects. Hollah at ya brotha.

a brief analysis of identity

When you don't know who you are, you have two options as to who you can become.

You can be nothing.
Or you can be everything.


You chose to become everything, the harder route, and are therefore invincible. By liking everything, you are appealing to all characters: a variety pack of socks will please everyone if there are enough options. Unless, the person choosing the socks likes sandals: the person who likes nothing.

These are the people who dislike you: the ones who also know little of their personal identity. Rather than choose the harder route to become everything, they became nothing. They grew up in a world hating that which surrounds them. They took the easy route that promised fast, mediocre results.

Remain in the spotlight. Remain diverse within one unit. Remain who you are.


Why would you ever choose to be nothing?