Just gonna preach for a second...or an hour...

Everyday I open my email account, expecting a response from the various agencies eager to sign me. It's always disheartening to instead find more spam mail telling me new ways to turn my tire wheel waist line into a vanishing act. This, in itself, is a whole other topic of conversation. I mean, what did they see that I am female so I MUST have self esteem issues regarding that unwanted belly fat? Because, they are absolutely right, and yes I do eat cheese wontons every night for dinner, and no I don't plan on stopping. If I get fat, I'll just say it's for a role, like Charlize Theron did, and everyone will admire me. Plus it's not fair, I mean this damn city makes me walk everywhere, so no I won't feel guilty if I want to indulge in a cheese wonton or twelve. It doesn't get me pregnant  or make me have a hang over. I'm sick of everything thats good being bad. And yes, I even sometimes have a REGULAR coke. So, no, do I want to wake up from a night of cheese wontons to open an email with a miss gym no life telling me how great it is to live on celery. Tomorrow I will diet, don't tell me today what I need to do tomorrow.

 

 

But I peruse through all the gym and save darfur emails, when I see an email from Mike Alaska ( fire eating drum guy, wrote about him the last blog). He said he saw my previous blogs, and wants to meet. This random dude on the subway wasn't suppose to really find me or my email, much less read that nonsense I wrote below. He was suppose to be a funny story I told. I quickly opened up this blog, just to read what he read. Oh my, I called him boyfriend. I joked about being on date three. He has now heard all my inner thoughts, when he was suppose to only be this dude that made eye contact with me on the subway.

 I watch people a lot. I always carry a book with me on the subway, but I never open it because I get lost in everyones story around me. I can in a matter of seconds know who loves who, who doesn't know who, who is happy, who is miserable, who is a workaholic  and it's all just by a look. Generally people don't talk on the subway. It's a quiet tunnel of people, traveling from place to place. You sometimes hear whispered chatter or someone's ipod playing too loudly, but for the most part,  people communicate in the subway by body language. Or at least you hear the body language more than you do outside the subway.

Really the exact moment of beginning and ending all starts with a look. 

Like me and Mr. Alaska could fall hypothetically madly in love, but did it start the day I tried to buy his love or does it start the next time I see him, because I'm looking at a real person. 

People aren't real to us. I think when we leave our safe homes in the morning for work, the people we approach in the professional and relationship world, we look at in terms of how they will benefit us. What if, as a human being, I approached people as interesting complicated individuals that need and deserved to be known. 

Every morning I see this elderly man that has one short leg and on his short leg he wears this really tall boot.  Every Morning, I get upset when I see him. I look around to see if other people are upset, and nobody is looking. Nobody is looking, and I wonder if anyone even knows this man. Is it possible nobody knows him?

My friend told me the other day that we are all made in God's image. We all crave to create and be worshipped.  My point is, in a really long drawn out way, nobody should be just a story we tell. People are real, we should know them. 

Point of the Day: Know people. 

 ( hands in circle) Go Team( hands in air)