Carving out a corner to post random crap.
Nothing is black and white.
If someone paid the price for saying:
"That's not my job"
there is a fine chance
that the statement was correct
on at least one occasion.
Sometimes, through the turmoil,
a restless soul sees opportunity unfold
and walks away from concrete and steel.
The country is a lovely place to
raise children.
When is it advantageous to be taken advantage of?
Dear Zoë,
Thanks for bailing on me, sis. You really need to examine your habit of shutting down when things get unpleasant. People were counting on you to get the job done. Instead, you turned off the lights and left the building. You fell out of orbit thinking no one would notice! I can't complete this mission on my own. You used to believe in me, so what's changed? We were a team. When did you stop being a part of this world?
“Zoë, what’s that you’re reading? I hope it’s the résumé Mohit is expecting. Don’t squander this opportunity to leave your life of menial labor behind.” That was the closest thing to a simple Good Morning Roger Altbridge had in him on a rain-soaked Tuesday.
“Uh, nothing, Dad.” Zoë stuffed Alex's note in her backpack and grabbed a silvery pouch of blueberry toaster pastries from the pantry. “See you later,” she called out to the house as she trotted past her parents to the front door. “Can’t be late for my date with low-wage employment.”
Sometimes I forget when I was five, I figured out happiness is found in the Now.
During my elementary school matriculation, a variation on the Theresa-daydreams-during-class comment was added by a helpful teacher's hand at the bottom of my report card. I don't recall my parents being concerned. I think they'd already noticed those quiet moments where I'd stop playing, eyes shiny and body relaxed, and stare in contentment at the wood grain paneling on the wall. Sooner or later I'd come back around to Barbie and G.I. Joe locked in a passionate embrace, as if there had been no interruption of make believe.
I still experience a joyful calm when studying my own grownup walls with their mustard-colored skip trowel texturing. When the Nagging Little Voice opens the floodgates of Anxiety and Doubt, I pat my Kindergartner-self on the head and tell her:
"Show me the crack in the ceiling." Chases away the bully every time.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 