Small Stories @small-stories - Tumblr Blog

It's official! I'm ending this. The things I wanted to remember the most are embarrassing stories about my friends and family, and I can't write that here. I guess I'll make something else more private to archive that stuff. It's been fun, though.

Last one:

We built a fire at the beach. A woman around her late 30s or early 40s is part of the group using the site before us. She sits me down and says, "Honey, let me tell you, find a man who can build a fire. Look at those boys. Can any of them build a fire? Look at my man over there. Now look at those boys. Who would you want to be with?"

I say hmmm and she says aha! This conversation repeats in different variations for a few minutes and I'm really confused and then ask, "Wait. Is the fire a metaphor?" She says, "Kind of, kind of" and I'm like ohhhh.

We high-fived a lot throughout the conversation and she kissed me on the cheek good-bye.

It's been bothering me for a while, how everything I write here seems to reveal something about my background. At least, I notice how my background influences the way I view people and what I find interesting. Hmm.

On a hot day, a man sat on the curb under the shade of a small tree reading a book. It was a deserted area far from both the shopping plaza and residential area. He had nothing else with him but his clothes.

A few feet away from the building with the windows rolled down, my friends and I tried to sound like opera singers in the car. I looked up when our friend shouted from the third floor at us and saw a little girl stare and back away from the window of the fourth floor.

Our car stopped at a red light. Just as I began to feel uncomfortable under the stare of the man two lanes over, a car pulled up between the two of us.

A little girl, maybe seven, was sitting in its front seat singing into her water bottle to the blast of the song-- made faint by rolled-up windows-- "Don't stop believing". She threw her head and hands around at the same time and her car cut us off a little later down the road.

As I looked out the window of the car, I suddenly made eye contact with a friend, right by the window, who I hadn't talked to in over a year. But we drove by so quickly.

#no follow-up

A man said "Excuse me" very quietly. When I stopped, he stuttered and said, "Oh, I didn't expect you to stop... Thank you for acknowledging me." He mumbled and was very shy and asked if I could buy him some soup.

In most of my dreams, I'm watching myself, even though I am myself. Starting one or two weeks ago, though, I started dreaming with an in-body perspective and about realistic situations. How do you all experience dreams?

Sometimes, when I wonder what I would look like with a certain feature (glasses, braces, beard, shaved head...), I draw on my face with paint. It's moderately helpful to my imagination.

An elderly man sat slouching and nodding as a woman spoke incoherently across from him. Suddenly he flung his arm out and, pretending it was a gun, pointed a hand at another woman for a moment. Then he settled back again.

A little boy stood at the fence looking out from the elementary school alone. A woman walked by on the other side and he began walking next to her while chattering. The woman nodded and smiled.

I felt a little guilty as the small birds along the sidewalk chirped and hopped into the bushes or flew off as I walked by.

A woman on the bus said, "People are always scared of my dog, but he's harmless! People freak out too much. Want to see him?" And very startlingly, a large dog meekly crawled out from under her seat and back after being pet.

I woke up in the morning to see the giant shadow of a squirrel travel across the wall.

A middle-aged woman wearing a modest green sweater and black pants stood next to a tree on campus doing ballet exercises as people passed her.

I turned around to see a 12-year-old boy coloring his nails with a red whiteboard marker with casual concentration. He held his hands up, saying, "I'm a girl."

I suddenly felt really lazy and tired and decided to let go of the phone I was holding even though I knew it would fall on my foot but I was just too lazy to move. It hurt. Then I picked it up.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Small Stories