THE TIME: 6:07
THE MUSIC: Tim McGraw; Taylor Swift
THE MOMENT: My new hat. My old pajamas. Bum on the bed. Laptop on the lap. A Sunday.
I have this habit of people-watching. I tend to try and interpret those in passing. Example. “Ooooo there was definitely a mysterious disposition about him” or “What an optimistic way of walking.” But sometimes I think something mean about them. No examples necessary on that one on account of it would negate my entire purpose which is as follows: lately I’ve been working on being less judgmental. Whenever I think something negative, I shove it out of my head and then pray that I can become better, that I can see them from the more loving child-of-god perspective. I’ve been getting better! However, the one thing I especially struggle with, is bleach blonde kids. Boys, girls, doesn’t matter. My head has a spaz-reaction to them. I almost want to claim that its involuntary, but I won’t because that’s a dumb cop-out.
There’s a big window in the Smith Field House that overlooks the courtyard-type area by the RB. I sit up there on a couch with my loves after aerobics while we’re waitin for Family Life to start. It’s a great time to read or write or just breathe and de-sweat your raunch-nast-aerobics self. (One time Tyler Yates walked by, personally witnessing the lyndsi-shae-raunch-nast-aerobics experience. I was almost embarrassed, but, knowing that I have surely not fooled anyone into thinking that I am the victim of perpetual glamour, I got over it pretty fast.) I was writing up there two Thursdays ago when a big group of Samoan boys walked by underneath. Oh the distraction. They were just GLORIOUSLY MANLY. Havvvvve Mercy.
Some words get on my nerves. Example. Chloe. It’s a pretty cute name to say, but annoying to read. The type of annoying that’s not too overbearing, but just agitating enough to be absolutely obnoxious. I mean c-h-l-o-e… are you serious? Something in there should tap you on the shoulder and say “Hey, I’m two syllables… just so ya know. K thanks.” Honestly. It makes me crazy.
Guess what?! The other day I was walking home from class. As I cut across the street, a boy passed in front of me. He was wearing a black t-shirt and bright blue pants. He also had those shoes with the fat tongues that poke up bravely above ankle-level. It was just BAM enough to make him unique looking, but not so much as to overpower the entire campus with some kind of arrogant sauntering implication. Without thinking I look at him and said “Alas I am truly in love.” Luckily, I‘m pretty sure I only said that in my head. And the biggest deal is… he had bleach-blonde hair! Yeah! Hellooo? Progressionnnn!!! I am getting so much better.
Today my Stephy Jay was making wheat bread. I’m talkin standing over a kitchen table covered in flour, kneading dough. Her hair was all loose around her shoulders, kinda curly. Her face was focused and kind. She was singing in and out of different country songs….
Who would not want that woman?! I feel that way about all my loves. I often find myself wishing I could save our moments and show them to strangers.
L y n d s i S h a e