brush ya shoulders off...

nobody gets up in the morning and automatically thinks to themselves – ‘i am going to dress like shit today.’

but inevitably shit happens.

and im not saying that it happens to everyone, or that it even happens that often, but it DOES happen.

it even happens to me.

sometimes my outfit debacle is worth a good chuckle when i get home.

other times i want to burn my clothes and drive to work nekkid.

‘damn! my coworkers let me walk around all day looking like THAT!!?!?’

it happens, but not that often.

in fact its been such a long time since my last ‘episode’, that i must have been lulled into complacency.

because i actually thought that i was looking fairly decent today – thomas pink button down, plain white undershirt, kenneth cole flat front black pants, black belt, black socks, black johnston & murphy split toes…

i was well dressed in my straight - man - i - refuse - to - wear - striped - shirts - fashionably - oblivious - while - at - work kinda way.

which is GREAT if you’re at work… and you only plan to see the trolls that you work with.

unfortunately when i got dressed this morning, i hadnt anticipated seeing S (a cute girl i play ultimate with) at lunch.

myohmyohmy, she cleans up well.

hell! she looks REALLY good once you rub off the pitch dust and grime (not that she doesn’t look good out on the field… just a different good).

suddenly im six checking myself seven ways to sunday…. my shirts creased, my pants are too tight, my shoes are scratched to shit, my hair looks like a porcupine humped my head, and i havent shaved so i look like a thirteen year old boy (ya know, those kiddos who grow a faux mustache and a T to make them look older…).

hot damn im hot.

these are the thoughts ping ponging around my skull as i stand in line for my sandwich.

and as i place my order to the underpaid teen behind the counter, i am faced with a dilemma – to care, or not to care.

that is the question.

because there are two types of people in this world – (duh…) those who care and those who don’t.

those who care – overthink shit. they fumble. they second guess. they stare at an opportunity, and they tilt their head from one side to another like a chipmunk mulling over an odd looking acorn. they stare at opportunity, and they wonder if the other person remembers who they are. they wonder if they will make a fool of themselves. they wonder if the earth will swallow them whole if they squander this opportunity… because it feels like the entire planet is riding on the decision that they make – should they initiate contact? what should they say? how should they say it? what will the other person say in return? what will they say in return to what the other person said?

we’ve ALL had these thoughts (even if you were only ten at the time).

sometimes im still ten.

and other times i realize that im closer to being ten plus sixteen (an entirely more successful age for me), so i really shouldn’t care anymore.

which is a hell of a lot easier because those who don’t care – could give a flying fuck what happens next.

THEY.JUST.DON’T.CARE.

talk. don’t talk. earth swallows. earth doesn’t swallow. it doesn’t really matter.

they do what they want – they say what they want. and more often than not, they go straight upto someone and start yammering like a caffeinated high school cheerleader on her first trip to a regional competition (an event that i actually bore witness to last week). they don’t care how they look. they don’t care what people think. they just do – and let the chips fall where they may.

and as much as i didnt want to care, i did.

i cared about how things went down. i cared about how i looked, and more importantly i cared about what S would think of how i looked.

the funny thing is that im not even interested in her.

i just think she’s really sweet.

which is a great thought to wax philosophical about, but doesn’t really help me much with the situation at hand – considering that by this time ive already paid for my meal and im practically shuffling past her table out the door.

for a second i consider simply continuing past her.

do not say hello, do not collect two hundred dollars.

and for a second i consider it a GREAT idea. she’ll never even know that we almost bumped into each other – a plausible solution considering that i look dramatically different off the field (people are SHOCKED when they see me out and about).

BESIDES she’s sitting with her friends, she probably hasnt even noticed me.

don’t tell me that you’ve never been in this situation – because you have. and don’t tell me that you’ve NEVER thought about doing this (done it) – because you did.

and since you have (as i have too), you know that the other person may have noticed, or they may not have noticed. it doesn’t really matter.

because you did.

and you SHOULD know better than to pull that shit.

so i said fuck it. and i stopped caring.

and it’s a good thing i did, because when i tapped her on the shoulder, she turned around, smiled, looked me straight in the eyes, and said hi __________!

im glad that i was wearing clean underwear. ha!

‘the fear of which they thought was not the normal kind; not a response to a tangible danger, but the chronic, unconfessed fear in which they all lived. they remembered the misery of the moments when, in loneliness, a man thinks of the bright words he would have said, but had not found, and hates those who robbed him of his courage. the misery of knowing how strong and able one is in one's own mind, the radient picture never to be made real. dreams? self delusions? or a murdered reality, unborn, killed by that corroding emotion without name - fear - need - dependence - hatred?’ -the fountainhead (my absolute favorite)

~ do you have a secret? ~ the sneeze never fails to amuse ~ googlebomb do not date this boy ~