I Don't Swear

Back in the coffee shop. Today I'm watching people. It's amazing how interesting human beings are, as a whole. Honestly, God has such an imagination when he thinks up of people to create. Next to me there's an aging couple hovering over a laptop from last year's hot list. He's bald, she's plump. But they're happy. Past them there's a girl on another laptop from this year's hot list. She's probably twenty, but still acts like the little girl she wishes she still was. A table across from me there's a group of bad-a** bikers, as they call themselves these days. One's in a white shirt and goggles with his worn leather jacket folded sloppily over the back of his chair. He's discussing something probably about his ex-wife to his fellow bad-a**ers. They don't seem like they're listening.
"She still loves me," says the white-shirted man into his tall glass of beer, slouching into his seat as if hoping that the others would accept him as one of their own gruff, bad-a** bikers. He thinks it worked.
"Give it up, Don," says the gray-haired, glasses-topped man across from him. His shirt displayed some sort of guitar brand that he had probably never heard of. "She's five years younger than you and she has two kids and a new husband. Just give it up."
"You'r probably right," says Don, sitting up straighter, adjusting his leather pants so that they wouldn't chafe his thighs so much.
"Of course I'm right," says the glasses-topped guitar man.
"Of course he's right," says the one with the bandanna across his neck and a newish-looking hat covering up his balding spot on the back of his head. He takes a sip of his water from a bendy straw. Bandanna Man wasn't a drinker.
Don lifted himself awkwardly from his seat, half gruffly, half delicately, so that the leather pants wouldn't stick.
"Bathroom," he mumbled, and strutted swiftly and safely to the blue door marked "Men."

And thus, the bad-a** bikers sat, oblivious to a silly little boy who was taking notes.

Selfishness...

Do you ever wonder if God just sneezed when he created certain things? I know, I know. It's an absurd idea. But really... what if it was true? What IF God actually was just creating something- something he had a plan for- that he knew what it would look like- and was so set on creating it that way, but then, he sneezes, and his hands shake just a bit, and the whole creation just becomes a bit lopsided- like how when you're painting, and you get bumped from the behind, and you create a huge streak on your predestined piece of groundbreaking art.
I mean just look at the mountains. What if God was just wanting to create a completely flat plain of earth, like Kansas or something. But then a feather tickles his nose, a sneeze comes, and then BAM! he bumps something and the whole earth just kind of crumples upwards and downwards and all sorts of ways.
You must be thinking "Isaac has no belief in the fact that God has complete control." You're wrong. I'm just following the tradition of so many geniuses of literature and art and architecture and asking "What if.."
But i'm nowhere near genius. I'm just a silly little boy, with a silly little laptop, and silly little thoughts in his head.

It seems that the main topic of conversation these days is "Me." Honestly, in almost every sentence that has been passing through my ears these past eight days have had the subject of "I" or the direct object of "Me" in them. And honestly, it's starting to get to me. Are people really so craving attention as to have every sentence being directed to themselves? Are they lonely, or just conceited? Are they really meaning to put the spotlight on themselves, consciously knowing that really, nobody would really care that back home, your nickname was Sketch or that you weigh 146 pounds. I mean nobody really asked. Maybe it's just bad social skills. I dont know... It's just something that I'll have to watch, and make sure that I never do. It's selfish, I think.
And now, I finish.

Sixty Days in Silver Cliffs.

At the moment i just finished yawning. My eyes are tired, there's dirt in my shoes and on my jeans, and due to an under-appliance of deodorant, i might possibly stink. But such is life- better yet, such is my life- no, no- even better- such is my summer life that'll last approximately sixty days.
I'm in the land of the mountains, where you see snow all year round- even in June, and most of the time it's below 50 degrees. But I honestly can't complain. I kind of like it here. Dont get me wrong- it's nowhere near being called Home. But it's as close as it gets at the moment, and i make do with what I can.
For those of you who have never asked me that oh-so-popular end-of-the-year question, "What are you doing this summer?", let me explain. There's a camp here in Colorado on the outskirts of a town named Buena Vista (the locals call it Beunie). It's called Silver Cliff Ranch, and it offers waaaay too much money and waaaay too much work. And that's where I am.
I miss home, more than usual. Partly because home has become to mean so much more to me than simply a cement building with my furniture in it. It's the whole city- the people- my friends- everythng- my family. I miss all of them.
Every day i think things start meaning more to you- subconsciously- i dont think anyone will really know it's happening to them. But in the end, we all get attached to somebody, or something. Is this human? or is this just me being stupid, and really anybody could go their whole lives without really loving anybody, or caring for anybody but themselves. I couldn't. I need people. I need society. I need music, friends, family, strangers, art, literature, nature, God. I'm attatched to these things, and I really dont think I could go on without any of them. And I never knew this until lately.


I'm learning something new this summer. Want to know what that is? ok i'll tell you: People Are Weird.
I always thought, living in an MK bubble and all, that only those nurtured and spoon-fed their whole lives, like the ones in Binimea, are the only ones that are strange, and that everyone else in the United States of America were just normal human beings, none of them strange in any way, all of them different, but completely..i dont know...calm and collected.

I was wrong.

I am in a campful of simply weird people. I've never met anybody so...different.... so not normal. They're all characters, all a complete opposite of what I thought people here would be like.

Conclusion: people are never what you expect they'll be.