Author: approximately
The pixel sofa. Well, at least we know what Photoshop puke looks like.
Several of my favorite things about my mom:
1. She encourages me to eat monster cookies for breakfast, because they have oatmeal in them.
B. She appreciates my hair after it hasn’t been washed for several days.
iii. She tells me not to sell myself short. (Sometimes I forget I stand just as much of a chance as anyone else.)
energy + (gut) punch
Surely there’s somebody
That needs you more than me.
Fifteen dollar Malbec, you lean over the patio to release two minutes of toothpaste from a morning. Thunder cat like an evergreen, quiet in the missionary trees and sleeping until tomorrow. I pour a bowl of cereal, she pours a pint, you pour your body into a lazy bed. Crescent door creaks spark a path in the leaves—forget clean. Survival, it’s a corn tortilla with beans, a wading downstream, and all the best case scenarios I’m forgetting.
Words that Stuck
A LONG WHILE BACK, I collected Beanie Babies. I had one in particular that was my favorite, a pink octopus called Inky (whom I still own and cherish). As Beanie Babies grew in popularity, I recall flipping through a guidebook to determine Inky’s value.
It turns out Inky was one of the first Beanie Babies made, and that he was worth a good penny (which in the Beanie Baby collector’s world was anywhere from $100-$200 for a little plush animal). My Inky, however, was worth nothing to a collector—I’d ripped his tag off from the onset of our relationship. Tags were important.
I will never forget this, because when my older sister found out, she said something to me that I have never, ever, ever forgotten.
“Everything has a purpose.” I was crushed; I’d never thought of anything like that before.
I walked away and pondered it for a long time. This was more than 10 years ago and I will never forget that feeling. It went beyond the realms of the value of Beanie Babies (if, in fact, they ever had a monetary value) but to other things, too. Why had I chosen to get rid of a part of the toy, the tag? Because I didn’t need it. I didn’t need it to bestow affection upon my beloved Inky.
Strangely enough, I find correlation between this story and other things in life. Discovering that everything has a purpose—and there is purpose for everything. I believe I’ve met certain acquaintances for the sole purpose of them leading me to my best friends. I’ve taken particular opportunities, ones that don’t necessarily mean anything, to later realize they’ve lead me to Europe, Colorado, Washington, D.C. Purpose for every car I’ve crashed, or every minute I’ve been late. Purpose for what I have and have not done—a great plan, leading to something grand.
Ripping Inky’s tag off was only the beginning.
approximatelyes.com 