OOH, she is one risky Chick

I was thinking the other day while frolicking in the water at practice, (Might I note: the water was slightly green the other day) that I don't say quite as much as I think.

I guess I am quite a cautious person.  Sometimes I say really stupid things, so now I am aware that what I say WILL largely affect my reputation.

So, today I said a lot more than I usually say.  I still said some stupid things, because that is what happens, we make mistakes.  But mostly, it made me happy to say more of what I thought.  I feel a better part of society when I voice myself and make my opinions known, instead of quietly sitting in the corner, afraid of embarrassing myself.

And at the same time as I have been a riskier chick today, I realized that I love life.  This is because I know that the people who are mean to you in school, or who insult you to your face and call you a poophead, or who insult your style, or who push you in the halls, they don't matter.  And you know what is the best comeback:  Kill 'em with kindness.

It honestly works.  I can say, I have not always followed it, but I indeed believe it to be true.  Next time you feel angry at the world, even your closest friends, or your teachers, recognize that they are people too, they are human and have felt the way that you are feeling.  So, be nice.  Sit with someone who is by themself.  Say Hi to an old friend.  Smile at the person walking by.  Help pick up the pencils that the random person dropped in the hall.  Hold the door open for that woman behind you, even the guy behind you.  And when you see someone crying, ask them what's wrong.  Remember, if you were in that situation, you would want someone to acknowledge that you are sad or angry, and comfort you.  Even if it's just a pat on the back.

This excerpt is from a book I just recently started called The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom:

"He ran down the heart of the old midway, where the weight guessers, fortune-tellers, and dancing gypsies had once worked.  He lowered his chin and held his arms out like a glider, and every few steps he would jump, the way children do, hoping running will turn to flying.  It might have seemed ridiculous to anyone watching, this white-haired maintenance worker, all alone, making like an air-plane.  But the running boy is inside every man, no matter how old he gets."

You are a running boy.

Daegon running around in the yard.
Photo by me.

-Mallory