Tuesday, August 31, 2010

No might be the most destructive word in human language. Every time I hear that word, a little piece of me dies. Death and decay from the inside, maybe that is one of the problems in this world. The destructive power of the word keeps us down, prevents us from fulfilling our potential and propagates fear.

Whether said out of anger, malice or love, the thought that you can't, hurts. And when you believe it, the most dangerous thing starts to happen and you can start to tell it to yourself. Not good enough. Sad. Worse than that may be the words/thoughts/actions, the violation, that require a powerful response. Then the damage is before the word, but the destruction is tied to it.

I had more on the topic organized in my head, but i cant think of it...

Human spirit is based on yes, the thought that you can, do, achieve, better, more, happy.

OK, now i can get back to happy thought!

Monday, August 30, 2010

Friday, August 13, 2010

Stolen Summer Prose

I enjoyed this so much I had to share. Flip flops, sundresses and tan lines also make me smile... poor innocent mojito.

Sundresses, Sandals, Tan Lines: A Guy's View of Summer

Writer Scott Frampton explains how your tan lines (and summer dresses) drive guys completely and totally crazy.

August is the hottest month, and I'm not talking about average ambient temperature. I'm talking about you and what you do to men in the feverish weeks leading up to Labor Day. Our resolve weakened by months of heat, otherwise productive members of society are reduced to paroxysms of want by a backless dress, or bare legs dotted by drops of condensation from a tall, cold beer.

You may be aware of this effect, but I doubt you appreciate the extent: It deserves its own seasonal affective disorder. And the worst cases can be traced to the sundress. Wear one now, and it says something about you: In a month when sartorial ambition is reduced to a set of subtropical survival skills — tube tops, with their pendulous plunges, short shorts that ride up like a junior-high wedgie — you put on a dress and shoes more complicated than a rubber thong wedged between your toes. This outfit reveals not only your body, but also how comfortable you are with it, and from there, it's a perilously short trip to envisioning what you'd do with it.

Especially if tan lines are involved; I've been known to lose my grip at the early-evening sight of them, innocent mojitos plunging to their patio deaths. That contrasting stripe, climbing over your shoulder from parts unknown — unknown to me, certainly — is a tease in the best sense, giving the slightest suggestion of how you'd be in your altogether. In these stifling days of late summer, how you make the most of things is a clue to who you are and what you'd be like lingering over a glass of chilled rosé — if I didn't have to get home to my family for dinner.


Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The Look

You know when you look at someone and feel something like electricity flow between you? And you look away, feeling caught in some sort of time warp...
In junior high I always had a crush on the smart athletic girls. I practiced with these girls on the volleyball team and they were in my algebra and biology classes, and gym. I was (and continue to be) a dork when it comes to how to appropriately act around attractive women. There was one, Beth, that had a dirty, sexy, smart, athletic alure that could only mean trouble. Sure there was Susan and Stephanie, but Beth had something extra. Once in Biology class, she caught me looking out the window over her shoulder (staring at her) and she did the classy thing and winked at me. Emboldened by this I winked back... with both eyes! I dont think she laughed out loud, but the embarrassment felt like the whole room was laughing at me.
Well, in gym class we had a section of physical fitness where we could walk/run around the school, run stairs in the auditorium, bicycle out 15th street or other less taxing challenges. I took to riding bikes with the girls. Yes, the same group of athletes I shared other time with, so they had no fear of me. We would head out east of CJHS on 15th for 15-20 minutes, then turn around and sprint back to school to have time to shower and get to our next classes. One day we got caught in a rain storm and got back to the gym soaked to the bone. I lived in the country and rode the bus to school (and my dad was a fellow teacher), so I got to store my bike in the "lock-up" in the girls locker room. Normally it worked that I went in with the first group of girls that unlocked the door, put my bike away and walked out. No problem. Well, dripping wet, someone took pity on me and offered to get me a towel, which I accepted, not wanting to drip water all the way down the hall between the girls and boys locker rooms. When I turned to grab the towel, there was Beth, who had let me in the locker room calling "boy coming in", at the other end in her bra and panties, and we shared that brief look again. This time she flinched, gave out a squeal, tried to cover herself with her arms, and hopped out of my line of sight all in the time it took me to register what was going on. I turned on my heels and walked out and quickly an quietly as I could.
Now it was years before I got to see another girl in her underwear, but I did spend hours practicing winking, not wanting to get caught off guard again.