Archives for posts with tag: propel women

People kind of look at me funny because I have friends who so happen to be male. I wanted to show a big long pause here in this blog post to emphasize how awkward it is that people look at you sideways when you have friends of the opposite sex that you aren’t having sex with, but I don’t know how to do that well.

I remember when I was mentoring some chicks in junior high, there was this weird saying about not making purple. That’s when guys (blue) didn’t hang out with girls (red) because otherwise it would make purple.

Actually, that doesn’t make sense written down either. Can’t blue sit beside red and not hump … er … I mean sex … um, I mean … ? Yes, yes they can. Read the rest of this entry »

The trouble with ghosts is that they don’t even speak, they don’t even whisper. They motion us forward, they move through us, they flutter between us, and too often in response, so do we.

We listen to them like little addictions, the ghosts that can’t even talk. You cannot succeed, you will not be loved, they will not care, it isn’t enough, you will never change.

We can’t stop feeling lost, being lost, losing peace, losing sleep. But we can’t seem to stop listening either.

There is too much resting in the unknown, I think. And whether we want to acknowledge it or not, we’re hearing what we can’t see and following what we don’t fully understand.

I know a woman whose heart is made of gold. It was made purely of gold and mercy, of God, and a little bit of wilderness. She teaches people first how to dance, second how to pray, third how to change a tire, and fourth how to protect your heart. Except, she learned what she wasn’t supposed to as a child too. Read the rest of this entry »

The rain had paused long enough for her to run down the street. The sidewalk was painted by the faded orange street lamps, and we were just supposed to drive by, continue on, keep going.

Of course I couldn’t. She was obviously crying, so I pull around the block and park. “I’m just going to see if she’s alright,” I say to my coworker in my passenger seat.

I hate wearing shoes. Even flip flops, I just want bare feet. I’m sure I should be concerned about glass or nails or something else that could harm me. But tonight, I’m just not.

I open my car door, bare feet onto the rain-soaked pavement and run towards her. She’s half running, half distraught, but she turns and stops when I ask if she’s alright.

I don’t really mind that we’re in the middle of the road, that we may be in someone’s way. I don’t mind, the girl just needed a quick reminder; nothing gets in the way of love.

Read the rest of this entry »