My Friend
By the time I moved to Ripley, Tennessee (my parents’ home town), I had already switched schools five times. I was the ultimate Army brat.
The Philosophical Main Course
By the time I moved to Ripley, Tennessee (my parents’ home town), I had already switched schools five times. I was the ultimate Army brat.
I try to have the appropriate amount of empathy for everyone. Like many Gen X peeps, my mom and dad did not graduate college, but they wished for their kids to do so.
I was always an independent thinker, a hard-head, but supported by my wonderful parents. They weren’t perfect, but they never demanded I follow a certain life path. They encouraged my creativity.
Philosophy is an extremely tumultuous undertaking, one which is similar to scaling a mountain.
The past couple of years have been a strange voyage indeed. So much confusion has been wrought, yet so much clarity has been gained.
I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a relationship that’s lasted a whole year. Maybe this helps explain some of my current troubles… and past troubles, for that matter. On at least three occasions I’ve managed to date someone for several months before things came crashing down like an Angry Birds edifice.
He rode around in a golf cart. He’d suffered a stroke several years prior and couldn’t possess a standard driver’s license. So he would occasionally travel up and down our street in that golf cart.
Remember their faces, adorned with beaming smiles. Remember their stories, full of mischief, laughter and love. Remember their final hour in this world, and the ungodly shock we felt.
How did I get here? Where was I going? All around me were lights, and the sounds of tires rolling swiftly over rain-slicked roads.
I was sitting across the table from my account manager Suzy, my Chick-fil-A chicken biscuit cautiously awaiting its fate. She and I were meeting to discuss certain frustrations that had crept into my job and indeed my life.