Got 'em... maybe.

There is the glance across the room, the peripheral vision encounter, and then the quick turn away as soon as the windows to the soul line up. One more time. And it's now confirmed - the fish is on the hook. So this time you change it up. Look to the wall. Scan for the clock. Pretend to check the time. Swivel your head back around. Dramatically squint your eyes and gaze beyond the target while you stretch out your neck here and there as if you're looking over an invisible wall in search of an invisible person. And you keep at it...

... until one day you realize you're the fishy; you're playing the same game you thought you were never going to play. We all live in a yellow submarine after all. Though at the moment, I'm up and away for some fresh air and new perspective because in short, what I see is not what I get. What I see is not what it seems.

I'm noticing more each day that what I see is not matching up with what I know and the growing disconnect between knowing and doing. Everyone knows how to speak right. They know how to soothe the mind. But preacher, 'teach me how to live when the tongue is done.' What I want is the real deal, not a mere projection of what should be, could be real. Movement. I want someone to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow. Oh wait, that sounds familiar, and yet so foreign.

When I don't move, they say go. When I move, they say stop. This is the definition of messin' with yo mind. I laid my heart out, put it on the table, and bled in front of them, and all I got was an analysis of the state of my mind - a thousand miles away from the border of my heart. The one thing I learned is that my communication skills need much improvement because I know their intentions were good and pure. But good intentions don't provide food on the table. Likewise, poor communication is no excuse to miss breaking bread together.

This one was up in the clouds, I know. But there will be a rainy day soon enough.

Blind Business

To make a short story ridiculously long...

After a long day at dad's office I tagged along with the staff to get some cheap all-you-can-eat meat at O-Dae-San (I should get paid for this). As the others were being seated I decided to do some business (pronounced binness). On my way to the restroom I was looking down at my right foot and walking in big strides to avoid a shoelace that came untied. Right before the doorway into the bathroom I got down on one knee to tie my shoes, but right then I heard someone coming up behind me, and because I am such a gentleman who doesn't like clogging up narrow passages I quickly tucked my shoelaces into my shoe and went straight into the bathroom. The man followed behind me and I quickly claimed a stall. As niagra was falling I wondered why I hadn't seen any urinals because if I had, I would have preferred them over stalls (locking the door is a hassle). Suddenly, I heard high heels clip clop into the restroom and a surprised, shocked, disgusted female voice asking:

"Oppa? Why are you in here?"

And the man who had followed me into the bathroom said:

"Oh, I just... this g... oops, sorry, wrong bathroom... mumble mumble"

(niagra still falls mightily as the conversation goes on)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDRAISER!!!

The man left quickly for the right door, the man door. Although the man was 'sheepish' enough to follow me in he had enough fuzziness to save the face of a fellow stupid sheep. Thanks. for nothing. I stood in the stall, helpless, like baby Moses as his mother put him in a basket in the Nile river. But I couldn't flush yet because that would give it away. I was pretty relaxed given the predicament I was in because I planned to wait until she either got into a stall or left and then ninja my out of there. But then I thought, oh shoot. the female must know already because girls don't usually stand... omg there's a monster gap in between the hinges, and my shoes omg my shoes are showing and I'm facing the toilet, omg she could totally see me. So much for privacy in public restrooms. At that point, my delayed fight-or-flight senses kicked in and my thought process went something like - Fear. Freeze. Sweat. Pee. Ice. Heroes. Stop. Time. Invisible. Disappear. Ding. Southwest. Commercial. Laugh. Joke. Shut. Up. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Idiot. Moron. I'm. Scared. Jail. Die. Then I calmed myself down in between shallow breaths and regained my statue, yes, statue.

The problem now was waiting for the female to leave. My prayer was that no more females would enter into this public domain. I waited for her to enter into a stall, but she had other business in mind. All I heard was the ch-kunk ch-kunk of the paper towel dispenser, then the clip clop of her heels to (please... outside) the sink, then the pshhhh of the faucet, then silence (finally?), then the clip clop of her heels to (c'mon... this time) the paper towel dispenser, and repeat the same process 5 times (no exaggeration added). Now I was getting frustrated... What is she doing? Writing a message on the mirror with wet paper towels? (in which it would have read "pervert in restroom call 911"). The 6th deadly silence in her fixed action pattern ritual was unusually long and that convinced me she was finally out, and without a second guess I flushed the toilet, unlocked my stall and...

CLIPPITY CLOPPITY!

... my heart dropped as I saw the female, with only her back visible, leaving the restroom. She knew. My guess is she was actually at the sink (in the silence), but when she heard me flush and unlock the stall she didn't want to embarrass me so she quickly left without finishing her face painting. Aww how niCELEBRATIONVICTORY! I lagged behind a few seconds and finally escaped. The next second I found myself entering the right door into the men's restroom. I walked in, closed the door behind me and thought, "Why did I come in here again?" According to my post-analysis, my manliness subconsciously needed to right the wrong and do something manly even if it was too late.

something like that.

I went back to my seat and told the party of my folly and it instantly became comedy. But my concern is that the man and the feman might be having a comedy show at my expense: "Dude, lol, there was, lol, this guy... lol"

On the plus side, the meat was scrumptiously delicious!

Mood: Thankful.

Moral of the story: Read your bible.

"Leave them; they are blind guides.

If a man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit."

M15:14