random unfinished writings

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random unfinished writings


There’s this phenomenon going on. It’s called Proximity. The idea is to be as close to your audience as possible without being hurt—vulnerability without full-fledged reciprocity. It happens when the pilot gets out of the cock pit to tell us that his co-pilot isn’t yet here. Mr. Pilot could have stayed in his pit but he’d rather be appreciated so he stepped out and spoke to us directly. He’s not about to walk the aisle and shoot the breeze—that would be too much and quite unrealistic. After all, he’s got a job to do. But we all appreciated actually seeing him, not just hearing him. I appreciate it. I can work with it. I can even do it. But I think we set each other up for disappointment in some scenarios. Like when we spend extra time in conversation face to face. That proximity is nice and intimate. So we expect it next time around and if we don’t get it, we wonder what went wrong.

Or maybe that’s just a female thing and I’m getting in over my head. So I’ll stop writing now. There’s no phenomenon. Nothing to see here folks. Nothing to stand in awe over. The pilot was just being nice.



it’s fascinating to see how light alters things, how the sun (for example) makes it hard to see the exact locale of the Frisbee in flight. so I knock it from the sky wishing I had more perception.



Answers are often hard to come by. Resting in a state of unknowns, I bury my head and cry. But hope comes in moments. I take hold of each and know one thing–I will be fine.

Bits of hope like paper passed through confetti shredders
Flies, fanned by discouragement

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