Monday, March 29, 2010

Mr. Left


Yesterday, I was reading this article to my husband. It's about whether the person you are dating is Mr. Right.
"Isn't it too late for you to be reading that?" he asked.
Hmm. Probably.
"I don't think you're Mr. Right," I told him "You never listen."
"Huh?" he asked.
I read him Trait No. 1: He listens to you. I emphasized the words "genuine concern" and "consistently remembers." It suddenly occurred to me that he forgets a lot things that I don't. Mostly, the names of people at church who I think he should know by now.
"It's not that I'm Mr. Wrong for you," he said. "It's that I don't listen to anyone. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my short attention span."
Hmmm. I moved on.
Trait No. 2: He connects with you easily
"I think our relationship takes work," I said after reading the section.
I read it to him.
"I don't," he says. "It's one thing I love about it. That whole part about being easy, natural, and effortless. It's that way for me. You're the one who stresses."
Maybe I do. I decided not to read the rest. At least not to him.
He wasn't listening anyway. My Mr. Right.
Or Left.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

More Quotes


"I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn. But, and that is the great question, will I ever be able to write something great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer?"
Anne Frank, 19944

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Just a Quote

"Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heart-ache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, to discover what is already there."
-- Henry Miller, "Sexus"