A fool and his money are soon parted.

Yesterday, after my gym workout, I walked to the bus stop outside of the gym and waited according for the 25 upper Wentworth bus to come down the road and pick me up.

It came alright. And it went. Zoomed right by; didn’t even slow down for me; didn’t pick me up. It wasn’t even full! What a jackass.

So then, I walked another block and waited accordingly for the 21 upper Fennel bus to come down the street and pick me up. They both go to the same location, so it’s not a big loss. What pissed me off the most is that it was Sunday. And on Sundays the buses run once every 30 minutes, opposed to the regular week schedule of 15 minutes.

So I waited.

Once on the bus, I took my seat. Look around the bus and observed the people, like always. After a few more stops went by, a man got on the bus. Medium build, average height, brown hair, dressed fairy wealthy. He seemed pretty normal to me, except he held a hundred dollar bill on his nose. It was positioned like those nasal strips for snoring that they sell, right across the nose. He was smelling it! He was rubbing it all over his face!

This didn’t last for a few seconds, oh no. He put the hundred back in his black computer bag case and proceeded to take out a fifty dollar bill, and did the same ritual.

And then with an American hundred, fifty, and two Canadian five dollar bills.

So I thought to myself, this man has got a money fetish in more then one way. Seriously though, this man probably sleeps with money and continuously rubs himself with it all day long. And so, he did this for the whole 25 minute ride downtown. Five minutes before we arrived he reached into his bag and pulled out stacks upon stacks of hundred dollar bills. He must have had at least twenty thousands dollars in his bag.

Was it counterfeit? Most likely. He did seem awfully suspicious to flaunt that much money around, especially on a city bus, where anyone could ring the bell and grab it from his hands and walk off the bus before he had time to react to the situation. Another girl and I were both watching him, and we kept smirking at his insanity and creepiness for money.

I told my coworkers the story and we all shivered in disgust, because we’re cashiers and we handle money all day. Now we all have this mental image that we’re touching this man’s face money and rubbing multiple items before being able to wash our hands.

How disgusting!

It takes two to tango.

Why does the negative aspect to things always claim superiority over the positive one?

Even when the positive state is immensely in the lead, one negative comment can immediately plunge the person’s emotions right back in the hole. Sometimes, even further down then where they ever were to begin with.

Often, people rely on me for moral support. I am comfortable with that. I am thrilled that they view me as capable and intellectual enough to provide them with significantly suitable advice to fulfill their curiosities.

On the other hand, there is my best friend who, in all good intension, views me some wonderful, flawless being, and because of that, He wants to or rather he think that he has to better himself…for me.

For me?!?! Ugh.

He has this perception that I’m at a level he isn't at, and because of this he feels he must better himself to be able to amount to my standard.

What is that?

I really don’t understand were he took the idea that I’m some perfect, shallow person who won’t let you near me if you don’t possess certain qualities. Because I’m not, I’m not vain, and I would never think that of myself. Even more so, he does possess the qualities he mentions in me that he would like to achieve. He’s just blinded by all the negative that anyone has ever told him. He doesn’t want to see the potential good in himself. He can’t and won’t be able to see it until he realizes that He’s this beautiful person that has all this wonderful, exceptional, amazing beauty of the soul.

I try to liberate that blindness from his perception so that he too can see this person, this truly magnificent person, that I see and that I love.

You’d be astounded at how slow it is to build up someone’s self confidence. But, it does build up, gradually; they’ll begin to see themselves in this day, and not the person that was ridiculed years ago. The outcome is beautiful. Confidence is a strikingly radiant effect on ones soul. Once it surfaces, happiness then follows.

And so, now this person has new self confidence.

But now, wait, someone new, or someone from their past, will see this new confidence and either:
a) See it as a threat.
b) Be jealous of it.
c) They to, like they viewed me, make them their motivation to better themselves.

Option C hardly ever happens. A & B, all the time. These people will insult Him. They will make up lies and say terrible things to him.

Once this happens, even though he knows what this person is saying isn’t true, will become emotionally distressed. Depressed. For the reason that they were once victims of the ridicule and verbal abuse, they are easily thrown back into the well of depression.

This, however, does never intimidate me. I love the people who matter most to me, I will not let them suffer from negativity others are out to show them. Thus, I will prevail in my doings to re-appreciate themselves.

I just hate the fact that, in all the positive you show them, and you make them see in themselves, they’ll still be thrown off by a few insignificant comments someone, who they don’t care about, says to them.

Great minds think a box.

Metaphorically speaking, every man has a shoebox.

The shoebox, it turns out, contains high school photos with “little more then friends” doodles on the back and somewhat types of love letters passed to each other during class. And pages upon pages of lined paper filled with his name, and hers enclosed by a heart, and a little “We’ll always be together”, message. All based around a woman he lost some six years ago and isn't quite over, though he claims he is.

Do not hate him for the shoebox. He keeps it until you show yourself better than her. Which, so long as you don't plan to pull out his heart with pliers, you already are. He'll figure this out. Eventually.

Promised.

Truth is, he'd rather spend hours talking to you, and hours upon hours trying to make you happy. He'd rather be in love; he’d rather spend one day with you then a lifetime without you. He'd rather let the shoebox go. But he's not sure he can.

The shoebox is about something long gone, but it's hard to let that nonsense go. Especially when he’ll reread phrases like "I'll always love you; I know you think this will all be over one day, but I promise it won't". But you have to understand that it’s done and over with and he won’t go back to her. He’s with you now. He’ll let the shoebox go, but give him time. Don't hate him. He'll get there.

He wants to be in love again, and he is, with you. Honestly. But it's so hard to trust it. It’s so hard to trust that you won’t hurt him again like he’s been hurt. And it isn’t you he needs to trust, he does trust you, it’s himself he needs to trust. Trust that he can let you love him without foreseeing a cause of pain that you don’t plan, in your worst nightmares, to do upon him. So, the next time he is acting weird around you, remember he has a shoebox somewhere. He'd love to start a new one with you, and burn the old one, but he needs a little encouragement.

Give it to him. He’s worth it. He’s worth so much, because to you, your love is priceless and the value of that could never be determined for it is far too precious. He deserves to be given the chance to see how wonderful you are. Because after all, he's the kind of guy who keeps a shoebox, and soon, you will need more then a shoebox to enclose the memories of your love.

Mary had a little lion, no really, she did.

If I am exclusively identified as something within space & time, as an aspect of the world of phenomena, as a fragment, then time easily becomes an enemy. My enemy. Within its grasp I will fall within the pits of this timely world. Eventually, within all reason, within all doubt and self righteousness, I will find myself unable to go on. Unable, after years of exposure to unkindness I show others, and within harms way, Karma will definitely meet up with me. No matter, the spite I am motivated by or the memories I feel should be opportune for the reason. When this time comes, I will not be prepared. When this time comes, I will, however, knowingly face up to harms that I have committed unto others and realize to my astonishment, me: The queen bitch. The outmost hypocrite.

On another note, we got our new car today. A Rav4. Used. 2004. It looks super nice, however it's still not my favorite pick; I liked the Dodge Caliber more. And black? Of all of the colours they could have picked. Black. Not that it's bad or anything, it's just “safe”. My dad says its "conservative", I just think that's a big word for "Not having the balls to buy a more courageous coloured vehicle". Also, they totally over paid for it, by a few thousand. I guess this is what we're stuck with for another 10 years. Or rather what THEY’RE stuck with for another 10 years. Once I’m done with university I’m getting my own damn car! Muhaha!

Best part of the day? They let me drive! Wow, it was smooth, and light, and just plain beautiful. It turns on a dime. So, without further ado: voila.

Gonna, wrap you in a great big bow

Saudade: a Portuguese word considered untranslatable.

A yearning so intense for those who are missing, or for vanished times or places, that their absence is the most profound presence in one's life. A state of being, rather than merely a sentiment.

Saudade; the most perfect thing I’ve read in a long time. A word I found that defines how I move through the world, still existing, but ultimately, indescribably lacking. Truly, no one is really totally satisfied; accordingly, this word definitely describes and applies to everyone. If you think it doesn't relate to you, then, reflect upon it, and if you still don’t think it does, you're wrong, it does.