It’s my blog and I hoped to be authentic and genuine, yet lately, I find myself tongue-tied in my head. There are so many things I want to write about, but I don’t do it and I am not sure why I hesitate. Am I getting older, not just on paper but also in my mind? Perhaps my ‘bite’ has become toothless and I pretend to be less critical.
“The only thing crueler than a cage sosmall that a bird can’t fly is a cage solarge that a bird thinks it can fly.”― Caroline Kepnes, “You”
If a ball doesn’t move the way they expect, physicists would be disappointed with their theory of gravitation, not with the ball. When people don’t behave the way we expect, we should be disappointed with our theories about people, not people.
I had already checked out, my friend -as usual- took her time, she was not even near the register. I had time to kill, and I sat down on the bench close to the checkout and watched the people around me. I am in no hurry on Saturdays, I can piddle around as I please.
You are so kind, she said and I am not.
I am rude and crude, rough at times and too outspoken.
Sarcastic and cynical, brutal sometimes if only with words.
For the wife
Who says it’s hot dogs tonight
Because she is home with me
And not out with someone else.
I always try to get a window seat on an airplane; I love to look down at clouds -they look so different from above.