the new obsession

Marie gave me a good point on this last post, on how we should look to each others lives because that leads to judgement and we all know "judge not lest ye be judged" so I figured that thanks to her noble wisdom I should rethink that piece of advice and figure out what I really mean. I figured it out and it's this:

I didn't know how to word what I really wanted to say, what I meant ( I found the words now) is that peoples lives, whether it personal, or not, and whether we really want to see it or not is on display, and sometimes, if you stop and listen, like listening to a rainstorm, you'll catch some things that put your life into perspective and make you think about they way you live.

It's been  a good long time,

alot happened today, I had Sarah come over which is always great, but after we dropped her off back at home me and my dad were driving up to school so I could work crew again for the crucible and two major things happened. The first was that we kept driving past these one story houses with huge windows in the front showing the living rooms, so as I'm in the car I findmyself looking inside each of the houses, almost like looking into their owners lives. I look to the first house, it's a greenish room with a family sitting down to eat, the next house was blueish because the lights were off and a young married couple I suppose were watching tv, the third and final one I looked at was orange, in it two people, a couple from the look of it, were fighting and the woman started crying. In the breif seconds I saw of it, it put life into perspective, that everyones life is somewhat on display and we should all look to each others to see what we can do to fix ourselves and everyone. The other thing was talking to my dad about the farm I used to go and grow up on pretty much. It was my grandparents and the memories I had there are so precious to me that the thought of them makes me smile. Like sitting on the front porch with my grandpa while he whittled during a rainstorm. God rest his soul. Or the hot summer nights where we'd sit in the back of the house, it was like a big, giant room that was screened in, and listening to the stories of my grandparents and parents and aunts and uncles. Or waking up each morning to the smell of my grandma making breakfast, bacon. eggs, biscuits, gravy, jelly, all made from scratch. Working on the farm, helping fix cows who were either sick, in labor, or had broken bones, wading in the creek to catch minnows and crawdads to use for bait when we'd go fishing on the lake. Life was so surreal and perfect back then, I never cried, I was surrounded by love, I was taught how to be a man there. God I miss it. I went there once after my grandma sold it, after papa died naturally, it wasn't close to the same. I realized it though, it wasn't the place itself, rather it was the people and memories shared there that makes every hardship of life... a little more enjoyable. I'll leave you at that.