My kid is working on her college applications. This is what I hear:
What do you think of this?
Don’t sit too far away. Sit right here.
Give me space. Just let me write.
Read this right now - I need feedback.
I’m hungry.
Not now; I can feed myself.
Read this right now. What do you think of this?
Be quiet, I am trying to work.
Where are you going? Sit right here.
I open a little piece of chocolate wrapped in foil and even it offers a platitude for my improvement.
Are we supposed to be gathering points for pretending to continuously improve ourselves?
I only want the chocolate, no redemption.
When I was a waitress for a time, I had a rule: always be visibly bleeding.
A split lip, a bitten finger. Something to get me fired. It never worked.
When I worked with race horses, I was always bleeding. Pinched skin, busted toes, horses rearing up and pulling me with them, frozen bucket handles leaving my fingers raw.
I loved those damn horses.
Seventeen years I’ve been wrangling and feeding this beast, bleeding.
Be quiet, I am trying to work.
Sit right here.
I’m hungry; not now.
Give me space; just let me write.
Sit right here.
Where are you going?
Oh Sam, That is one powerful word picture.
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