Writer, musician, photographer.
& I draw on occassion.
Everything you see is mine (art, photo, writing, etc), unless otherwise noted.
To follow me, clerk on mer face (in the top, left-hand corner).
“Do you guys have a scanner?” Apparently, the name tag makes me part of “you guys.” I’m a library aide—I shelve books and occasionally wipe things down. Anything other than that is outside of the scope of my duties. I am not a librarian. But fellow students couldn’t know that. So I don’t get impatient with the questions. I simply redirect them to the real librarians.
This particular guy who asked me about the scanner was interesting. I’d seen him around campus several times and wanted to say hello. Alas, an opportunity had arisen. I decided to go see if he had indeed found a scanner…and introduce myself while I was at it. We had an interesting conversation—I was pleasantly surprised. I am quiet. And when I speak, it’s about things that matter. Finding someone I connect with or relate to is not always easy—okay, in fact it’s really fucking hard.
After shooting some moderately heavy breeze, he asked, “What’s your last name?” I told him, and then asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m going to look you up on Facebook.”
It wasn’t until after I had already given him my last name that I realized I gave him the opportunity to contact me. (And in this case, I wasn’t that mad about it…) Perhaps, in some ways, this is the equivalent of getting someone’s number. In the past the question was, “Can I get your number?” Now it’s, “What’s your last name?” Congratulations social media. You’re changing the way the game is played.@2 weeks ago with 2 notes
I’ve been craving some snack-like stuff through out day. I got caught up in art and music all evening. I looked at the clock & realized my local grocery store was closing in 15 minutes. So I threw on some clothes and drove like an asshole. I thought about getting pulled over for driving double the speed limit & getting a ticket.”Well,” I’d shrug and think, “that was an expensive bag of chips.”
I parked and walked towards the doors, where a homeless man was standing outside. He asked me if I had a cigarette. I told him I didn’t smoke. He then asked for a dollar, and before I could answer him, two dollars, and before I could answer that, 75 cents. Then he started rambling about the plastic bag he had being filled with valuable things…something about having a flower business. Somewhere in the midst of that, once I had gone into the store and before the automatic doors closed behind me, he managed to break through the chaos and request some Little Debbies. I turned and gave him a thumbs up, though I’m not sure if he saw me.
Once I grabbed my stuff, I roamed the aisles for the few minutes I had before the store closed. No Little Debbies to be found. Bummer. I wanted to give him what he requested (as unhealthy as they are) because it probably would have been a nostalgic experience for the guy—and that’s what I really wanted to give him. I had to settle and grabbed him a snack from the shelfs up by the register.
When I went back outside, he was standing by the plants talking to himself. I walked up to him and held out the snack and said, “Here you go.” He reached out his extremely, dirty hands to take it and thanked me. He asked if I wanted some, but before I could answer began rambling again. I asked him what his name was, and he continued to ramble without answering. So I asked him again, firmly and with great care, “What’s your name?” “Jon,” he said. And then he spelled it for me. “J-o-n.” And then before I could respond he told me his last name, and I think he spelled that too. I’m pretty sure he started to say parts of the alphabet after that… I had to walk away. But as I walked away, I turned back and I told him to be blessed. & I meant it.@1 month ago with 1 note