Good morning everyone. Here is a poem that I heard on the way to work that reminded me of way too many times in school. It’s at the end of the entry conveniently cut away for your benefit.
I’m almost up to my $25 dollars for Hits4Pay. It’s been almost 7 months since I’ve had the account, and now I’ll get the check. There’s something to be said about that type of consistent work, and I have to admit, for merely clicking a mouse occasionally and making a couple pennies at a time, I think it’s worth it. When I finally receive the check I’m going to take a picture of it and put it up on here so all of you who thought it didn’t exist can get your come-uppins. And besides, then it might motivate some of you to work on yours! If you want more information (and get $10 off the bat), Click Here.
This weekend was wonderful. I started out on Friday chilling and doing a whole lot of nothing (just the way I like Friday’s). I had waited for a call from Valerie because we were going to get together at her house, but that didn’t happen. I come to find out later that her great aunt fell and hurt herself. Then on Saturday, I went out golfing with Phillip at Salem Hills. I shot a 61, which considering it was my first time golfing in awhile and I had a new set of clubs to get used to, I’ll take. My goal is to be down to shooting under 50, which would give me a +15 handicap, not bad for someone who plays about 5 or 6 times a year. Regardless of that, it was nice to see Phillip. I hadn’t really spent serious time with him since we graduated – he’s always up at camp and I’m always working, so our paths just didn’t cross much. We then went to lunch and then came back to my house and relaxed. I was just happy to see an old friend again. For as much degradation my friendships at Grove City endured this year, it was nice to remember that there are still people back home that didn’t really change. I feel as though my friendships back home with my friends are stronger and more caring that almost all of my friendships back at Grove City. These are the people that have seen me grow up, been with me at many of my peaks and valleys and still cared – many of my friends at the Grove have run away at times, and it’s frustrating.
And don’t worry: if you’re straining to figure out who it is, it’s not you.
Sunday was time with the family and then Taco Bell with Valerie. There’s something about our friendship that amazes me. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s such a closeness with the two of us. We sat in the booth and talked about some of the most serious parts of our lives until the place closed and it was like we’d never stopped seeing each other. I feel more at home with her than I do just about anyone else I know. It’s nice. We complete each other’s sentences, and she can read into me – not the me I try to put up at Grove City – but the old fashioned, been-that-way-for-21-years-of-my-life me. And it’s great because I can see her too in much the same way. It’s such a blessing, and we’re planning on making this Taco Bell Sunday a weekly occurrence.
The Best Slow Dancer
Under the sagging clotheslines of crepe paper
By the second string of teachers and wallflowers
In the school gym across the key through the glitter
Of mirrored light three-second rule forever
Suspended you danced with her the best slow dancer
Who stood on tiptoe who almost wasn’t there
In your arms like music she knew just how to answer
The question mark of your spine your hand in hers
The other touching that place between her shoulders
Trembling your countless feet lightfooted sure
To move as they wished wherever you might stagger
Without her she turned in time she knew where you were
In time she turned her body into yours
As you moved from thigh to secrets to breast yet never
Where you would be for all time never closer
Than your cheek against her temple her ear just under
Your lips that tried all evening long to tell her
You weren’t the worst one not the boy whose mother
Had taught him to count to murmur over and over
One slide two slide three slide now no longer
The one in the hallway after class the scuffler
The double clubfoot gawker the mouth breather
With the wrong haircut who would never kiss her
But see her dancing off with someone or other
Older more clever smoother dreamier
Not waving a sister somebody else’s partner
Lover while you went floating home through the air
To lie down lighter than air in a moonlit shimmer
Alone to whisper yourself to sleep remember.
– David Wagoner
And to finish this entry, I leave you with a quote from a discussion this morning with one of the guys I work with about girls and trying to figure them out. Peace and love.
“I blame all this stuff with girls on magazines with celebrities and listen to Josh Groban. How can I compete with that? You’re not going to find someone like Josh Groban in rural Ohio.”