"you'll arrive, by the time i stop waiting"
there's one problem with wearing one's heart on one's sleeve.
sometimes sleeves get all muddy and torn at the elbows.
listing the attributes of charming, eligible young bachelors did nothing to help.
neither did this.
head up, eyes open, keep moving forward.
oh, and there was a 7th day adventist who came in to proselytize to a captive audience during my (omg. i can has sleepy tiemz naow?) ten-hour shift. he'd been in before, but hadn't tried to spoon feed me the word of his Lord. i claimed familiarity with his Good Book. his. not mine.
"ah, but you cannot study alone."
i didn't say that, now did i? my opinions are unpopular and so i keep them to myself. a few hundred years ago, i'd have been tied to a stake over a flaming torch. this was an opportune moment to remind him that his divine teacher chose to keep company with those shunned by his community at large, declining to pass judgement on them. that some of us would see others' teachers as every bit as valid.
then he launched into a tirade on how, as Good Christians, it was our sworn duty to spread the word and share our scriptural wisdom with the sad, hellbound world. he likened it to sitting on a pile of food and refusing to share with the starving. "our?" since when do i possess scriptural wisdom?
"if we have all the food in the world, then i'm hovering over a pile of cookies. not everybody likes cookies." i claimed a preference for good works over good words as i handed him an impeccably wrapped gift and bade him a lovely evening despite the rain.
sometimes sleeves get all muddy and torn at the elbows.
listing the attributes of charming, eligible young bachelors did nothing to help.
neither did this.
Click to viewhead up, eyes open, keep moving forward.
oh, and there was a 7th day adventist who came in to proselytize to a captive audience during my (omg. i can has sleepy tiemz naow?) ten-hour shift. he'd been in before, but hadn't tried to spoon feed me the word of his Lord. i claimed familiarity with his Good Book. his. not mine.
"ah, but you cannot study alone."
i didn't say that, now did i? my opinions are unpopular and so i keep them to myself. a few hundred years ago, i'd have been tied to a stake over a flaming torch. this was an opportune moment to remind him that his divine teacher chose to keep company with those shunned by his community at large, declining to pass judgement on them. that some of us would see others' teachers as every bit as valid.
then he launched into a tirade on how, as Good Christians, it was our sworn duty to spread the word and share our scriptural wisdom with the sad, hellbound world. he likened it to sitting on a pile of food and refusing to share with the starving. "our?" since when do i possess scriptural wisdom?
"if we have all the food in the world, then i'm hovering over a pile of cookies. not everybody likes cookies." i claimed a preference for good works over good words as i handed him an impeccably wrapped gift and bade him a lovely evening despite the rain.