(no subject)
dear everyone.
i looked back to my livejournal entry from this day one year ago. many of you have heard this story in person, but for those who don't know, prepare for hilarity and fear . . .
it's midget story #1!
ONCE UPON A TIME . . .
how is this even my life?
so. it's about 10:45pm and i'm on my way home from a meeting. i'm approached by an individal (a "little person", if you'd like a visual) who asks me where i'm going. i say home, and he asks if he can come and talk. now, keep in mind i've never spoken to this person before. okay. we go to my room and i offer him many chairs to sit on. he instead asks for a pillow and lays on my floor, amongst my clothing and books. he talks and talks about a million things (things, for confidentiality reasons cannot be repeated) and i active listen him. i use "you feel" statements, i ask open-ended and thoughtful questions, and i use open and positive body language such as nodding, hand gestures, eye contact and leaning forward. finally, after he drinks some grapefruit juice, he is ready to leave. i escort him out, and walk him back to his residence. he invites me in, i'm too polite to decline. he reads me his poetry, along with a professor's feedback on said poetry. soon after, i leave.
i don't even understand why i was chosen for the talk. but he knew a lot about me. except for the part where he called me chris mcisaac. that's not my name.
i have class at 8. and probably a pop quiz on saturday night fever and jaws. i lead such a stressful life.
time to eat pad thai.
i looked back to my livejournal entry from this day one year ago. many of you have heard this story in person, but for those who don't know, prepare for hilarity and fear . . .
it's midget story #1!
ONCE UPON A TIME . . .
how is this even my life?
so. it's about 10:45pm and i'm on my way home from a meeting. i'm approached by an individal (a "little person", if you'd like a visual) who asks me where i'm going. i say home, and he asks if he can come and talk. now, keep in mind i've never spoken to this person before. okay. we go to my room and i offer him many chairs to sit on. he instead asks for a pillow and lays on my floor, amongst my clothing and books. he talks and talks about a million things (things, for confidentiality reasons cannot be repeated) and i active listen him. i use "you feel" statements, i ask open-ended and thoughtful questions, and i use open and positive body language such as nodding, hand gestures, eye contact and leaning forward. finally, after he drinks some grapefruit juice, he is ready to leave. i escort him out, and walk him back to his residence. he invites me in, i'm too polite to decline. he reads me his poetry, along with a professor's feedback on said poetry. soon after, i leave.
i don't even understand why i was chosen for the talk. but he knew a lot about me. except for the part where he called me chris mcisaac. that's not my name.
i have class at 8. and probably a pop quiz on saturday night fever and jaws. i lead such a stressful life.
time to eat pad thai.