I’m very glad I’m me. that I’m in this family. that we do the things we do. I love the road trips we take almost every summer. summer vacation is never summer vacation without the long car rides on long deserted roads. I wonder if we were any different – if any of us exchanged our quality for another – would we still have road trips? or would we be like other families, and go on cruises, or stick to tours? it’s a wonder we are who we are.
my poetry is just my filtered thoughts. it’s not a big enough filter. most of the time I feel so much but a lot of raw feelings and thoughts end up unfiltered because it’s too hard to, because I’m in no way experienced enough to deal with them. the processed filtrate ends up woven into nice words and pretty images. the rest of the experience is for me to tie loosely to the poem and remember every time I read it. (it’s a little ironic that I have a filter for poetry because usually I’m just a rude potty mouth)
goddamn, the people here are friendly. they may not mean the casual chitchat, and it may be just a requirement for the job – the ability to make small talk – but coming from a place where people are just helpful, it sure is nice. from where I come from, they are helpful. that’s it. they point you to the correct direction, recite their dialogue on whatever they’re supposed to introduce, but they keep their hearts closed. I constantly remain awed, and a little warm, after the casual conversations I have with cashiers, shopkeepers and instructors.