Inside This Mind.

01.21.2006 * 3:32 p.m.
a tiny umbrella.

Life is full of moments. We can choose if those moments are good or bad.

I went out last night with three other people and was told, by my date, that I looked good. My icy hands were held in an effort to warm them. A plate of ribs was shared, fingers and lips became a sticky mess of grease and bbq sauce and I felt at ease with myself and my surroundings. Everyone laughed and had a good time. Stickiness was wiped away with heated moist towelettes that came in plastic wrappings and left their aritificial lemon scent on my fingertips. I rode in a fast moving car, the heat on full and the windows down. Warmth from the car combined with cold winter air felt good in a familiar way. The country music was turned down to talk, then turned loud again as we sang along and moved our heads with the rythm. A tire went flat and I witnessed the fastest change to a spare that I have ever seen. His hands moved deftly as I watched the headlights of passing cars, and before I knew it we were off again. At a house, I sat in front of a television with three other people. Anakin Skywalker was once again turning to the dark side and my icy hands were being held in an effort to warm them. My thoughts turned to my Spaniard, as they often do- I do miss him. This carpenter is not my ideal, but he is kind and he is fun and that is good enough for now. If he calls me again I will be happy.

In the grey morning, I walked through puddles wearing pink golashes. There was a familiar panicking feeling in my stomach while shopping for clothing, I could so easily spend too much here. Thankfully, I have good self control. The pants I decided on are perfect, especially the green pair. You should see me when I'm dressed up professionally, playing teacher. I prefer the comfort of a sweatshirt and jeans, but I admit that the reflection I saw of myself in the school window on Thursday made me smile. It's a very good thing that I don't want to teach high school yet, because I am a known cradle robber and man slayer, and the combination could be disasterous.

At the cemetary the cold wind seemed to blow harder. I decided against buying roses this time, but scribbled two words and a heart on a piece of paper. I folded the note so that the "Happy Birthday" was visible and set it on her headstone, beneath the rock I brought her from Sands Beach. In three days she would have turned twenty two. There is bound to be more rain today, the words of my birthday wish will bleed and wash away and the soggy piece of paper will be put into a garbage can, but that is exactly what I want. For some reason I think she'll be able to read my note more clearly once the lettering is gone.

Life is full of moments. I choose mine to be good.