I had a vision when I was sitting in church. I looked around the room at all the people around me and I was noticing their lit flames shining in their chests, right next to their hearts. Some were large and some were bright. But then I noticed mine. It was barely alive. Just a small flicker, like a campfire dying on black coals after a long night of roasting marshmellows.
Last week someone told me that I was mysterious. At first I was so happy, because I've always wanted to be that girl. The one you look at and can never figure out, because of all the layers upon layers of life she has built up in her thick skin. But I don't want to be that girl. I want to be the girl that you look at and can see her flame big and bright, and you don't have to squint your eyes to try to see the glowing coals.
I've never been able to start a fire with just two sticks; to be someone who is so "boy-scout savy" that they can pitch a tent in one minute and have the fire going without having to resort to newspaper and a lighter. But I've always wanted to be that girl.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
can't we all just get along?
I never knew of it in any other way, until I moved to Idaho to go to school. It happened in an everyday-normal-conversation. Someone must have been giving directions.........
"Go down 12th, the street that runs near the school. After you go a few blocks, you'll see the building on the left, it's kittycorner from the bank."
KITTYCORNER. What?! I think I actually said that outloud at the time; I freaked out. I wouldn't doubt that I probably tried to make that person feel stupid for saying it that way, and probably looked them dead in the eyes and slowly pronounced "Kattycorner". It must be a Colorado thing, or a mid-western thing, because everyone at that table who was from Colorado, (ie: Ric) agreed with me, but everyone else, (ie: five other people) argued with us. This arguement lasted for four years off and on.
UNTIL
Yesterday, a great and wise guy named Rick, (different Rick, different spelling), said this....
"kittycorner is what you say when it's a small street, and kattycorner is what you say if it's a big or busy street," he said with a calm voice and steady eyes.
"what!? What do you mean?!" I yelled with wide eyes and a slight laugh.
"well, kitty's are small, and cats are big. So naturally kattycorner is for large streets."
"I think I love you," I said, "I'm going to blog about this, because I just got a blog, and I'm not sure what to say in it. This is perfect"
CASE CLOSED.
"Go down 12th, the street that runs near the school. After you go a few blocks, you'll see the building on the left, it's kittycorner from the bank."
KITTYCORNER. What?! I think I actually said that outloud at the time; I freaked out. I wouldn't doubt that I probably tried to make that person feel stupid for saying it that way, and probably looked them dead in the eyes and slowly pronounced "Kattycorner". It must be a Colorado thing, or a mid-western thing, because everyone at that table who was from Colorado, (ie: Ric) agreed with me, but everyone else, (ie: five other people) argued with us. This arguement lasted for four years off and on.
UNTIL
Yesterday, a great and wise guy named Rick, (different Rick, different spelling), said this....
"kittycorner is what you say when it's a small street, and kattycorner is what you say if it's a big or busy street," he said with a calm voice and steady eyes.
"what!? What do you mean?!" I yelled with wide eyes and a slight laugh.
"well, kitty's are small, and cats are big. So naturally kattycorner is for large streets."
"I think I love you," I said, "I'm going to blog about this, because I just got a blog, and I'm not sure what to say in it. This is perfect"
CASE CLOSED.
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