Thoughts at 35,000 feet

On a plane to Boston, with an hour to kill.

As was Coretta to Martin, and Betty to Malcolm, as was Rachel to Jackie, Ruby to Ossie, Claricy to Eddie C., and Thelma to Earl, so is the little Beliezean to Prescott Gilliam. That’s a good thing.

The title “lawyer” makes people think that you are a lot smarter than you actually are. Or maybe you are really that smart, but you don’t realize it because you’re around just as smart people all day long. Or maybe you’re not as smart, but you will be one day. Or maybe you won’t be. Or maybe…this is going nowhere.

Never pop bottles to satiate the ego. Only pop bottles cause you want to, and can. This certainly applies to more than popping bottles.

By all means, do NOT hop out there and try to be live (that’s live with a long I) when you’re not a live type. A good friend learned this the hard way.

It’s a difficult thing to realize that at 26, your basketball skills are gone. The dunks are fewer, and further in between than they once were. And you’re starting to grey just a little around the edges. And the body isn’t as chiseled as it once was. Brain a little sharper, body a little duller. Does it have to be this way? That sucks.

It is really upsetting me that my laptop is not recognizing the word “grey” as being spelled correctly. Grey is a word! The color can be properly spelled either way. Look it up! But no, the good people at Microsoft only recognize “gray”. I know I’m right about this one.
http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=grey
Take that, biatch.

18 months ago, on a date, I took her to 7-11. We were hungry, and that was all I could afford. We ate Big Bites and walked around Brookline at night.
Four months ago. Still broke. We bought a plastic bag of peanuts from a man on the corner and ate them with her last peach mango, while walking around Belize City in a summer rain.
Both times she smiled, and hugged me tight.