Womanhood

I saw you today in the break room eating that 3 day old piece of chicken left in the fridge from the Friday potluck.  I heard you talking about your affair with that married guy in the order department.  He bought you a car, and now his wife knows about you.  I envy your oblivion. I can't even laugh about your situation because it would make me feel guilty.  Your fate as a woman shouldn't be summed up on these details.  I wish I could connect with you on a level so you can see this. There are too many obstacles, my words would bounce around.  Here's to refrigerated air, selling sweaters, and lovers who are like three day old communal leftovers.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

θ How are you doing?

¤ You don't know, do you?

θ huh? What?

¤ That's exactly how I feel.

θ What are you talking about.

¤ Exactly, now you understand.  We are both confused by this for different reasons. I don't know why you want to know. You don't know why I won't answer. You say I'm rude for not being cordial. I say your inquiry is confusing, because it's insincere. So why bother asking me that.




It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The pile of twigs

I left a pile of twigs in the yard. Look who moved in:

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The Joyous Mysteries

Today while praying the Rosary while on my drive to work.  I pray out loud or else I get side tracked.  Today I noticed my voice was sounding like an auctioneer while praying.  I'm sure some Catholics would have been offended but it followed the cadence well.  I tried it on other styles but it seemed to be most agreeable to the auctioneer.  Lots to ponder in that.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96