It is an art. It is a gift. It can be worked on and enhanced, much like any muscle or skill, but we all have built in limits. Hitting on the ladies is serious skill. I know, I know, here we go again with another post about girls and dating. Sorry, but they are one of the most fascinating subjects that I face on a regular basis.
I've been chasing girls since I was a kindergartner. I remember when the girls tagged me, I would feel a shot through my heart. Butterflies exploded in a glorious array of colors and lights inside of my chest. And that was just a tag. So, maybe, just maybe, you can understand the type of feelings that are released when I am with them. Euphoric? Maybe too much. Suffice it to say, happy.
What really got me think about this is being in the land of milk and honey. Provo, UT. Young beautiful women are everywhere. The other night we were at a campfire. I listened in on a conversation between some dude and a young lady.
(Names have been changed, because who is named Orlee?)
"Hey, good to see you Orlee."
"Yeah! How are you?" the usual introduction.. yada yada... you could care less about that. After several minutes of talking about garbage...
"Orlee, I think I'm going to head out." No reaction from her other than... "Ok, good to see you. Later." The man was confused. She wasn't biting on his hint. She didn't fight for him, asking him to stick around. He wanted, "OH NO! Dooooonnnn'tttttt leave!!!!!" He leaves though, head bowed down.
Suddenly, from the dark, maybe seven minutes later, homeboy is back. And 'b-lines' it for Orlee. "Oh, you're back?" She says, obviously confused. "Yeah.... I just" bogus excuses... Then the first date questions are launched. The guy is sending out the same old trash that cavemen used. Which is not game. Just watch Hitch (because that is the Bible of dating). "What is your favorite color? What is your favorite movie? What calling in the ward do you have?"
BLAH BLAH BLAH. Right Kesha?
"So, just hush baby, shut up. Heard enough. Stop, stop, stop talking that. Blah, blah, blah think you'll be getting this? Nah, nah, nah. Not in the back of my car, car, car. If you keep talking that blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Terrible song, but comes close to what I am getting at
Just a bunch of filler words and questions. It made me nauseas. The man was trying so hard to create a conversation. He even said, "Oh, what is something exciting we could talk about next." PALEASE. Dude, be you. Just be you.
I am no expert. I do not pretend to be. I struggle getting a girls number. I usually just send a friend to do it or just stare at the girl. I do know one truth, girls like real. They like the real person, the personality, the drive, the inner being, the person underneath the skin shell that is trying to achieve life's purpose. That is the great secret.
I do not think there is a great one liner that slays any woman. I doubt blonde headed blue eyed men are better looking than any other man (besides redheads. Ugly, like sin). And I know buying a fish, as a gift, is a bad idea, they always die. A fish cannot be the symbol of a relationship.... Can anyone define omen or foreshadowing for the fool who buys a fish for his girl? Unless its a tiger shark. That is what I like to call passionate. I lost my train of thought....
Oh real. When you are real, then you'll really want to know the real them. It won't be this facade that we often put up. A refreshing idea right? Be you. The army is right, be all you can be. Unlock your potential by being yourself.
fades into the backlight
I am about to turn 23. That is limbo. I am in between becoming a man and still being a young adult. If that makes sense. I am still trying to hold on to my youth. It is crazy to think that soon enough I will have to be responsible for me. No one really looking over my back (whatever, mama Hyde better be there). As daunting as it may seem, it is also exciting, to forge a new path for myself; to be my own man. Then again, I am a hazard to myself.
"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us."We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone. And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
- Marianne Williamson
Great quote. It motivates me for about five minutes, then I realize that I am still that same self-conscience son-of-a-gun. Why? Well, first off, I do not have a clear picture of what I want to do with my life. That bothers me. I thought I would figure that out on my mission. Nope. Not yet at least. Then I thought I would figure it out as I took some general classes at the university. I am almost done with all of the GenEds, and still no real solid ideas. Secondly, I am average. Average height, average shoe size, average video gammer, average under water diving expert, and average at playing nertz. Average sucks. That is like a C+. No one likes C's. Thirdly, I have never been to Canada. Even though I doubt very highly that going to Canada would make a difference, it bothers me.
My youth feel like it is fading into the backlight, much like those transitions you can make on your powerpoint presentation. This may be the beginning of my slide show (if I live past 75), but as every new slide presents itself, I feel unprepared. I don't have the necessary notes in front of me, the laser pen, or have the capability to hit the 'back' button. I wonder if I am missing some past experience that taught me a lasting life lesson. What I am trying to get at is... basically... I am afraid of growing up. There I said it. The cat is out of the bag. Label me. Haze me. Whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better. That is just the way it is. I am afraid that soon, I will not desire to be in spiderman briefs.
An unwanted mother
Tigger (as we shall call her) has assumed herself the mother of our little band of agents at AT&T. She actually refers to herself as "the mom". I do not know what power came about to influence this woman to decide that she was the AT&T mom, but I will not allow it. I never asked her to be my mom. I have never referred to her as "mom," nor will I ever! I have but one earthy mother, and it would be a mockery to compare Tigger to my angelic mother. It would be an abomination to even put Tigger in the same sentence as my mom.
Admittedly, you can consider our group a type of a family. A stretch, yes, but nonetheless there are some similarities. We have a authoritative figure who dictates what we do, like a father. We are all like brothers and sisters, arguing, collaborating, bonding, but that is only due to the forced space that we have been put in for seven weeks. We even take a weekly dinner together. But this is a work family. I do not call any of them my brother or sister. So where in the heck did Tigger get this idea that she could actually call us "Baby" or "Honey"?!
The only woman that I want to call me those familiar terms, is my future wife. Not some lonely woman who wishes we were her kids! That may sound harsh, but it is true. I do not want that kind of a relationship. A quick litmus test I have to determine if I am friends with someone, I picture me hugging them. If it was awkward in my mind, then they aren't really that close of a friend. Tigger, the most you are getting is a limp fish hand shake.
What really got me all peeved about her attempting to be our mother is when she started to try and govern us. She would scold us for doing things. That doesn't sit well with me at all. For instance, I was teasing this girl about her small hands (they are so small. If I did tease her, I couldn't live with myself), and Tigger attempts to block my jokes and try to make me feel guilty. I looked at her in shock as she then called herself mom. I am going to make it clear that she is not the mother of this rebel. H no.
Admittedly, you can consider our group a type of a family. A stretch, yes, but nonetheless there are some similarities. We have a authoritative figure who dictates what we do, like a father. We are all like brothers and sisters, arguing, collaborating, bonding, but that is only due to the forced space that we have been put in for seven weeks. We even take a weekly dinner together. But this is a work family. I do not call any of them my brother or sister. So where in the heck did Tigger get this idea that she could actually call us "Baby" or "Honey"?!
The only woman that I want to call me those familiar terms, is my future wife. Not some lonely woman who wishes we were her kids! That may sound harsh, but it is true. I do not want that kind of a relationship. A quick litmus test I have to determine if I am friends with someone, I picture me hugging them. If it was awkward in my mind, then they aren't really that close of a friend. Tigger, the most you are getting is a limp fish hand shake.
What really got me all peeved about her attempting to be our mother is when she started to try and govern us. She would scold us for doing things. That doesn't sit well with me at all. For instance, I was teasing this girl about her small hands (they are so small. If I did tease her, I couldn't live with myself), and Tigger attempts to block my jokes and try to make me feel guilty. I looked at her in shock as she then called herself mom. I am going to make it clear that she is not the mother of this rebel. H no.
All the little worlds
This past weekend I went down to the NBA summer league games. While we (two great friends came with me) were watching the games, we saw the close knit family of basketball. Everyone knew everyone. We saw Gary Payton, Vlad Divac, Amare Stoudmeire, Sam Cassell, John Wall, Brandon Roy, Tyrike Evens, and most of the top rookies in the league. It was interesting to see that they all were more or less friendly. The NBA is a living, breathing family. The family is made up of players, coaches, assistants, trainers, agents, the media, officials, security, marketers, promoters, owners, investors, and fans. We heard a variety of conversations, from agents talking about deals with no name guys, players trying to make a splash, to scouts assessing players. The whole thing got me thinking about all of the worlds that exist within this world.
We all belong to a sphere, or multiple spheres. Different hats, or rather, attire is required for each one. Each one has a different language. Essentially a different culture. There are certain rules that are obvious, as well as the unstated. Not only must you look and act the part, you must back it up, cause no one likes a poser. There must be order to these worlds. These worlds are something like a clock. There are many parts, each having their own function and responsibility, making up the whole. People have to jump through certain hoops to get into anyone of these worlds. Admission is never free. Loyalty is expected as well.
I think it is fair to say that in the professional sports world, the rules are generally the same. You must be wearing name brand clothing. No one is wearing some faded glory shirt. Making a statement is critical, and nothing says, "I have the cash," more than a pair of throwback Jordans, covered by some Armani jeans, topped off by a Dolci and Gabbna shirt. These are our modern day, real life, super heroes. They preform amazing feats of athleticism and get away with murder (if you're an athlete, you are better off killing someone than fighting dogs). And you have to have a dang good looking chick, no matter where you are on the depth chart. What the world and the media deems "cool" is definitely embodied in these over-sized men. I'm no expert by any means. This is just what I see.
Seeing this world of professional athletes got me thinking about the many worlds that I have dipped my fingers in or have been apart of. I am sure we can all think of the worlds that we have been apart of, but what about the ones we have never even thought of. The ones that strike us as extreme, odd, stupid, disgusting, or just impossible.
Take for instance the world of mountain ironing. These people hike to the top of a hill... excuse me, mountain, and iron some sort of clothing material. What kind of conversations do these people have? "Rob got the new 300CX Iron. The battery power lasts up to 65 hours. Put him back a few hundies, but he can iron for days. Lucky guy. I guess his mom chipped in." Or is more like, "Goodness, it is just so good to be out of the house. This is the best excuse to get away from the kids and Spencer. I brought every single piece of bedding I own. It should last me a long time." They actually hike up a mountain with an iron, ironing board, and something to iron. They actually do this to release stress. I hope they bring starch with them, that would make it just that more intense.
What about these people over in England that do the wife carry or the shin kicking? "Hey Spencer, looks like you put on weight, and so did your wife. How do you think you'll fair?" (Hearty laugh by all of the spectators) "Just fine. I could carry your mother as well and still beat you! You lousy wanker!" says Spencer. Spencer then smashes his brute hand into the other man's face, and later takes 3rd. His wife weighted 250 lbs. Not a bad showing. Then the Shin kicking... They actually shove straw into their pant legs and kick each other until the other one quits. Saw it on ESPN. Oh, and this is not a sport. In the dictionary it is called STUPIDITY. They are obviously a primitive race that has not developed a language. No conversations could be recorded or even made up. After a series of tests on the winner of last years competition, it was determined he was brain dead. Doctors still are not sure how he has managed to live, let alone go to shave his face without cutting his throat.
Finally, here is the group, called free riders, or something like that. They go around and dumpster dive. They are dedicated to liberating the world from pollution... going green, the extreme style. They do not purchase any furniture, clothes, appliances, etc. whatever you find in a dumpster, they use. They live off our trash... The adage "one man's trash is another man's treasure" is true. Pretty amazing that they choose that life style and world. Not that I really admire it. Nothing that thrilling about choosing to be a bum, and not even a real bum. I would at least ask for money.
The different spheres are endless.
The Moments
Everyday we are placed in an array of situations. As humans we are all about moments. We look forward to certain moments in our life that we know will raise the hair on our skin. We also know there will be moments that make our stomach feel like it has a crazed monkey inside of it. We pay money for moments of exhilaration. We pray for moments of happiness. And we suffer the pains of hard moments. In the grand of scheme of things, events in our lives are just moments. Now, before you think I am getting all philosophical and such, hold on, I am getting to the point. I want to talk about some of the awkward times.
THE BATHROOM
Whether public or private, this place can be extremely uncomfortable. Cleanliness has a lot to do with it. I wonder if those thin sheets of paper that you place over the throne really does anything... or if the soap is really up to par. Public restrooms have to be the worst. I do not understand urinal/toilet talk. Some stranger thinks I want to talk? I don't know you, and if you don't mind, I wanna just take care of business. I am not camping up in here. We aren't at an art exhibit. In and out, that is what I am about.
Then you have those lines for stalls. Eww. I would rather not know who used the stall before me. Call me crazy, but I do not want to know who decimated the bowl prior to my visit. I like to pretend that the toilets first use was me. It makes me feel better about my situation.
LINES
People often stand too close to you. I love standing in line with girls when people get too close. For some reason they clutch their purse like it has some actual value. Everyone knows it is a knock of Prada bag, and no one wants your used chapstick. But there are some times when it feels like the guy behind you is about to go through your pockets. He is almost breathing down your neck, in fact you can hear and feel his breathing pattern, which is very annoying.
The worst lines is when people are waiting upon you. You can feel their eyes burning into the back of your skull. Sometimes they are staring so hard that your hair actually starts to smoke. The funny thing is that they are going to take just as long as you. Impatient and hypocritical jerks... just look at traffic. The ultimate line game.
YOU'RE IN MY SPACE
Awful feeling. Shoulder peepers are a huge pet peeve of mine. Get off my back. Last time I checked I didn't post a wanted ad on craigslist for a parrot. I hate that feeling on the back of the neck, the one where it makes you bend your neck in an unnatural way. Forcing the back of your head down to your vertebrae.
Part of this is invading someone else space. The forced stare. Have you ever been in a class, or a meeting, some kind of gathering, and you are forced to stare at one person. For some reason you cannot take your eyes off them. You look away, but somehow, like a gravity pull, your eyes are back on them. The thing is they aren't that striking, not in a beautiful way, but in an x-files way. Its as if your eyes can't get enough. Disturbing. You hope they don't notice, but they do, and the game gets out of control.
SMELLY
Adding to the offense is bad breath. Need I say more? Good golly miss molly, ever heard of hygiene? Just knowing any part of me smells like a rotting corpse makes me shiver. If I can smell myself, I am pretty sure everyone else can. I try my best to hide the smell by creating space. People try to engage me in a conversation, I back away. Sometimes I cover myself in a blanket, enveloping the smell in a tightly wound taco. Then I get swass and swalls. That in itself can make anyone go nuts. Sweating sucks. Pit sweat too. Anytime you suffer from the perspiration, you think of that axe commercial, and wonder if that is about to go down.
There are many more examples. Go ahead and submit them. If you dare. Or add upon this incomplete and random list.
THE BATHROOM
Whether public or private, this place can be extremely uncomfortable. Cleanliness has a lot to do with it. I wonder if those thin sheets of paper that you place over the throne really does anything... or if the soap is really up to par. Public restrooms have to be the worst. I do not understand urinal/toilet talk. Some stranger thinks I want to talk? I don't know you, and if you don't mind, I wanna just take care of business. I am not camping up in here. We aren't at an art exhibit. In and out, that is what I am about.
Then you have those lines for stalls. Eww. I would rather not know who used the stall before me. Call me crazy, but I do not want to know who decimated the bowl prior to my visit. I like to pretend that the toilets first use was me. It makes me feel better about my situation.
LINES
People often stand too close to you. I love standing in line with girls when people get too close. For some reason they clutch their purse like it has some actual value. Everyone knows it is a knock of Prada bag, and no one wants your used chapstick. But there are some times when it feels like the guy behind you is about to go through your pockets. He is almost breathing down your neck, in fact you can hear and feel his breathing pattern, which is very annoying.
The worst lines is when people are waiting upon you. You can feel their eyes burning into the back of your skull. Sometimes they are staring so hard that your hair actually starts to smoke. The funny thing is that they are going to take just as long as you. Impatient and hypocritical jerks... just look at traffic. The ultimate line game.
YOU'RE IN MY SPACE
Awful feeling. Shoulder peepers are a huge pet peeve of mine. Get off my back. Last time I checked I didn't post a wanted ad on craigslist for a parrot. I hate that feeling on the back of the neck, the one where it makes you bend your neck in an unnatural way. Forcing the back of your head down to your vertebrae.
Part of this is invading someone else space. The forced stare. Have you ever been in a class, or a meeting, some kind of gathering, and you are forced to stare at one person. For some reason you cannot take your eyes off them. You look away, but somehow, like a gravity pull, your eyes are back on them. The thing is they aren't that striking, not in a beautiful way, but in an x-files way. Its as if your eyes can't get enough. Disturbing. You hope they don't notice, but they do, and the game gets out of control.
SMELLY
Adding to the offense is bad breath. Need I say more? Good golly miss molly, ever heard of hygiene? Just knowing any part of me smells like a rotting corpse makes me shiver. If I can smell myself, I am pretty sure everyone else can. I try my best to hide the smell by creating space. People try to engage me in a conversation, I back away. Sometimes I cover myself in a blanket, enveloping the smell in a tightly wound taco. Then I get swass and swalls. That in itself can make anyone go nuts. Sweating sucks. Pit sweat too. Anytime you suffer from the perspiration, you think of that axe commercial, and wonder if that is about to go down.
There are many more examples. Go ahead and submit them. If you dare. Or add upon this incomplete and random list.
Iced.
There are some things that you have to go through in life that you'd rather not happen. For instance: Forgetting that you no longer use diapers. Realizing that Santa is fake. Puberty. Three hours of church. Schooling. But at the end of the road, you come out a better person.-- Suddenly you can hold your bladder. Mom and Dad are that much cooler when they buy you that gift. Your voice no longer squeaks. You feel a lot better after church. And a better paying job never hurts.
Lets try an exercise. I am going to write a list of words. I want you to read them, and think to yourself, "How do these words or expressions make me feel?" Easy enough. -----Accepted. Granted. Accomplished. Made it. Success. Hit the shot. BOOMSHOCKOLACA! YES!
How do you feel? Good? I hope so. I have another list.-- Denied. Shut down. Turned down. No. Rejected. Sorry. Iced. How do you feel now? Like a pile of bricks? Poop bricks? Yeah, I thought so.
I have been getting iced a lot lately. I don't know what the deal is. I know I was going to let the women run after me, but that just hasn't been happening. I don't know what the problem is, but it is haunting me in my sleep. I had a dream last night about one of my ex-girlfriends. It was an odd thing seeing her. I asked her, like she was some kind of an oracle, what the problem was. Why was I getting iced down so much? I don't remember all she said, there was a lot. She told me it was because I wasn't that good looking. I looked like a creeper sometimes, with my scowl and such. And finally, because I have bad breath. To say the least, I have been extremely self conscience of all of those things now. I think I may need to do something cooler with my hair, pluck some eyebrows (might help me not look so creepy), and invest in some serious toothpaste and mouth wash.
Summer
Lets try an exercise. I am going to write a list of words. I want you to read them, and think to yourself, "How do these words or expressions make me feel?" Easy enough. -----Accepted. Granted. Accomplished. Made it. Success. Hit the shot. BOOMSHOCKOLACA! YES!
How do you feel? Good? I hope so. I have another list.-- Denied. Shut down. Turned down. No. Rejected. Sorry. Iced. How do you feel now? Like a pile of bricks? Poop bricks? Yeah, I thought so.
I have been getting iced a lot lately. I don't know what the deal is. I know I was going to let the women run after me, but that just hasn't been happening. I don't know what the problem is, but it is haunting me in my sleep. I had a dream last night about one of my ex-girlfriends. It was an odd thing seeing her. I asked her, like she was some kind of an oracle, what the problem was. Why was I getting iced down so much? I don't remember all she said, there was a lot. She told me it was because I wasn't that good looking. I looked like a creeper sometimes, with my scowl and such. And finally, because I have bad breath. To say the least, I have been extremely self conscience of all of those things now. I think I may need to do something cooler with my hair, pluck some eyebrows (might help me not look so creepy), and invest in some serious toothpaste and mouth wash.
Summer
run for me.
Sometimes, when I am by myself, I begin to question a lot of things. One of the most visited thoughts within in my brain is women. They also seem to be the constant that heal and break my heart. I guess it is important to understand that I love them all. I fall head over heels like a roller coaster, and by the time I come to, I am nauseous. In the past, I have gotten myself so deep into girls, that there is no way that I can come out unscathed. One of my friends told me the difference between me and most men, they casually dip their feet in the pool water, testing its temperature and assessing the consequences of getting wet. I, however, dive in. Head first. Not caring how deep the pool is.
Here is what I am asking myself, what is better to dip, wade, take it easy, or just be like Justin Bieber and cry out "I just need somebody to LOVE!" or "Your world is my world. Your fight is my fight. And my breath is your breath..." For me it is obviously a lot easier to be passionate right out, but is that making it more difficult for me to really see what is going on.
We are all in a battle (right Ms. Sparks?) for love. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone Love Everyone! I see flaws with either game plan. With the dip and analyze strategy it breeds a man to not commit, to play the field, and not get serious. It is really a defense mechanism. They shield themselves from a relationship, that way they stay safe. Mine on the other hand, takes a lot out of a man. His time and emotional strength. It creates a mixed up individual. I guess it is all about deciding what kind of race you wanna run. Sprints or a Marathon. I don't know if I am really making sense. Essentially, it doesn't matter what kind of race you wanna run, as long as you finish.
BUT I don't wanna do the pre-races anymore. I don't even wanna stretch. I wasn't born in Kenya or the Caribbean. And guess what Gatorade, I am not about to take your three drinks. I am going to sit the next few plays out. I think it is time that I become the prize. Start running for me ladies, cause this wolf is wiped out. Unfortunately, we all know this is not possible. But it was nice to pretend that it would actually happen in those few sentences. I will continue to run. Run boy run.
Don't me Fall
Here is what I am asking myself, what is better to dip, wade, take it easy, or just be like Justin Bieber and cry out "I just need somebody to LOVE!" or "Your world is my world. Your fight is my fight. And my breath is your breath..." For me it is obviously a lot easier to be passionate right out, but is that making it more difficult for me to really see what is going on.
We are all in a battle (right Ms. Sparks?) for love. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone Love Everyone! I see flaws with either game plan. With the dip and analyze strategy it breeds a man to not commit, to play the field, and not get serious. It is really a defense mechanism. They shield themselves from a relationship, that way they stay safe. Mine on the other hand, takes a lot out of a man. His time and emotional strength. It creates a mixed up individual. I guess it is all about deciding what kind of race you wanna run. Sprints or a Marathon. I don't know if I am really making sense. Essentially, it doesn't matter what kind of race you wanna run, as long as you finish.
BUT I don't wanna do the pre-races anymore. I don't even wanna stretch. I wasn't born in Kenya or the Caribbean. And guess what Gatorade, I am not about to take your three drinks. I am going to sit the next few plays out. I think it is time that I become the prize. Start running for me ladies, cause this wolf is wiped out. Unfortunately, we all know this is not possible. But it was nice to pretend that it would actually happen in those few sentences. I will continue to run. Run boy run.
Don't me Fall
All Alone
This past week, I was dog sick. I don't know what happened, I guess just life. Surprisingly, people still get sick, and yes, I am human. It was a shocking day for me to find that out as well. It was a pretty bad sickness. Muscle aches, fatigue, severe sore throat, painful headache, and a fever. if you were wondering what I meant earlier by "Dog sick," now you know. I had some angels in my life. They came, blessed me, and nourished me. Golden. Shmee. Berlin. Mowgs. Mom. And all of the prayer said in my behalf.
Come Saturday morning, I felt better. I got in my car, started it, almost pulled out of the driveway before I realized what was going on. I was all alone in Cedar. Where was I going? It was in this moment that I realized why wolves travel in packs. Why super-heroes fight in tandems. Why Harry Potter is the best wizard. And why chat rooms still exist. Being alone sucks. I can't think of any other way to put it. People who say they like to be alone or like being a "lone wolf" are either: a) Full of crap, cause they've never been a lone wolf, and just want to look tough. b) Have no friends. c) Are crazy and want to be old. Cause that is what happens when your old. You become alone. Then you go crazy.
I hated it. I felt like I couldn't breath. My skin was itching. I went back into my house and saw all the things I could do. I even thought about all of the other stuff I could do. Nothing seemed appealing. It was all just busy work. Here is the truth, and by the way this is nothing new, humans need interaction. We need to have others around us, but more importantly we need friends. I know of no one that is happy that has zero friends. Besides Kobe Bryant. Even the weirdies out there need a friend. I do need to clarify, everyone needs a true friend.
I drove two and a half hours like a bat out of hell. I walked down that dock, saw that green boat filled with my friends, and I couldn't help but smile. From horseshoes, to football, to late night talks, to silly giggles, I love those men. We may not have it all together, but together we have it all... K now that I wrote that I am going to go look for the nearest fence post and slam my head into it. Who do I need to pay my royalties to for saying that? Gosh I am really upset that I typed that.
I recommend listening to Bill Withers' song Lean on Me.
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