That horrible feeling when you get to work and realize that you don’t have your phone with you and you know you’ll have to wait all day before finding out for certain if it’s safe at home or in a snowbank somewhere.
… and then my car started on fire. THE END.
Bette Howland (via wanduring)
The older I get, the more true this is. There is no waiting. You have to plow through the obstacles and start now.
Being set up on an ACTUAL blind date right now… not like an “I’ve talked to you online before but we’ve never met in person” date, but an “I’ve actually never conversed with you in any fashion, the only things I know about you are what I’ve been told by your friend, and I’m not even sure how I’ll find you at the meeting location because I have no idea what you look like” date. I’ve had a few offers from friends in the recent past, but this is the first one that looks like it’s actually going to happen for real.
I’m either brilliantly bold or nuts. I’m going to go with brilliantly bold.
I had a dream last night where there was some kind or brewing war between people holed up in a big gothic cathedral on one side of a river and people ruled over by some sort of dictatorial college dean at, surprise, a college on the other. I showed up partway through the dream (apparently I was watching as a disembodied bystander up to that point) as a time-traveling heroine from the 15th century with a Black-Widow-esque skill set. I sort of walked in on the cathedral side of the conflict playing the innocent, still wearing my 15th century getup and speaking with an intentionally pronounced accent (since, of course, my “native” language was early modern English). I met a young woman who said she had come to the cathedral side from the college side and warned me about the leader of the cathedral side, who was a smooth talker and sounded like he was on the right side of the conflict, but she had her suspicions and warned me to watch out for him. Before long, I managed to get the attention of the leader by pretending to be distressed and lost in crowded hallway through which he was walking. He “rescued” me in a sort of eye-rollingly chivalrous way and was a bit too unfazed by my cover story, which certainly raised my suspicions. When I managed to escape him and seek out my new friend again to tell her what I’d learned, however, she was frustrated with me, thinking that I’d fallen for him the same way everyone else in the cathedral compound had and that she couldn’t trust me anymore. After that, everyone was packing gear in preparation for the first battle of the war, and people gradually started to realize that I wasn’t what I appeared, because my gear included all sorts of contemporary clothing and gadgets that contradicted my voluminous dress and archaic accent. Then, at the very end, someone shouted from the back of the cathedral and everyone ran out to see an oncoming squadron of planes from the college side on the horizon. My new friend stopped at my side, looking ashen but stony-faced, saying that she never thought this day would actually come, and certainly not so soon. I looked out over the calmness of the river, the swans on the water and the birds in the orange sky and thought how people would remember that the war started on a perfect, calm, late spring evening.
And then I woke up.
Sometimes I just want to cry over how few people in the world understand that communication is more than just one person saying something to another person, and as such the answer to a communication problem is very rarely “YOU were wrong.”
We would all be so much happier if people realized that.