A poem written by a tired guy after work at 1:20 am

ORGANIZED

Objects
Neatly and
Zealously
Arranged in
Engineered
Groups
Intended to
Reduce
Disorder

Untitled Short Story

-The following was written during a boring 10 hour drive home from North Carolina. It is an unedited rough copy and just the first third of the short story. Any comments, critics, or suggestions are welcome. ~Kyle

“Swish. Swish, Swish.”

Arthur placed three crisp one dollar bills from his neatly organized wallet onto the counter top. He wanted to say, “Keep the change,” but leaving a 30 cent tip could be interpreted in too many wrong ways. It either meant he was cheap or that he regarded working at a coffee shop as trivial or more importantly that had feelings for the most beautiful counter girl that he had ever seen. Either way, it was more information than Arthur was comfortable with giving.

Instead Arthur snatched up the three dimes sitting in front of him, gathered up his coffee, two creams and three sugars, along with his newspaper and blueberry muffin and walked to a corner seat without giving the beauty even so much of an acknowledgement. It would be better for him, for her not to know, than ruining this daily glimpse at splendor, not to mention having to go through the trouble of finding a new coffee shop so close to his apartment.

He knew her name was Gwen, not from talking to her or asking anyone about her, but from the tag she wore every day on brightly colored polo shirts the coffee shop has their employees wear. To him she was the pinnacle of beauty. She had all the features he was convinced made a girl, a woman, beautiful. Her lips were subtly full, almost inviting a kiss. Her hair was a jet black that was too deep to be artificially colored. It waved just past her shoulders and moved just so when she laughed. As far as Arthur could tell, in the unflattering khakis and polo shirts she wore everyday, she had all of the curves a woman was supposed to have without looking ‘chunky’ or ‘thick.’ He could tell by the way the tiny muscles in her forearm and her biceps, and her triceps, when she carefully prepared his coffee everyday that she must workout on a semi-daily basis.

Arthur was able to relax in this corner of solitude and enjoy his blueberry muffin because he had taken a personnel day off from the office. Normally he had to drink the sweet nectar of the coffee while walking to the accounting firm he worked at, but was a welcomed change. Any time away from the office was cherished, even if it was to do what he needed to do today.

Arthur was not too close to his grandfather, even though the retirement center where he spent his last months was only a half days drive to Arthur’s apartment. In the competitive world of accounting, or at least at the low-level that Arthur was at, one constantly needed to be at the office if one aspired to climb up the corporate ladder. He also never enjoyed going to the retirement center when his grandmother was living there and in the past 5 years had not talked to or seen his grandfather in person. Nevertheless, here he was sitting in the lone corner of the coffee shop washing each succulent bite of the muffin down with invigorating sips of his coffee while planning the trip. He would drive the four hours to the retirement center, out in the country, pack his grandfather’s last possessions up as quickly as he could, and drive back to his apartment, all hopefully before the dark crept into the sky. Before he headed out to enjoy a nice slow drive through the country Arthur stole one last glance of Gwen just as she brushed her black hair across her brow. What he would give to run his fingers through that hair as she snuggled into his warm body.

Little Giants

Its late August. The baseball season is winding down and teams are fighting for the opportunity to play deep into October. I was flipping through the ESPN's expecting to see grown men in uniforms getting paid a king's ransom to play a child's game and instead I see children in a king's spotlight.
Everytime I see the Little League World Series being televised it annoys me. Here are 11, 12, and 13 year old kids playing a game thats supposed to be about friendship and sportmanship, but comes off as a live or die situation. I am sure kids today can deal with the pain of lossing on a national stage in front of millions of viewers and they can handle the pressure of representing a region of the United States. The only thing I hate more than watching grown coaches scheming to win is watching kids crying because of small mistakes that might let the nation down. I know children are sensitive when they make errors, but this has to be magnified because their errors are being broadcast across the country. This much emphasis should not be placed on 12 year olds playing baseball.
Seeing these young kids playing little league on ESPN makes me think of the continuing trend of the exploitation of underage kids playing sports. So much money is being made by advertisers and television executives through the broadcast of everything from weekly college football to high school basketball games to march madness to the Little League World Series of baseball and softball. No wonder high school basketball players are trying hard to find ways to enter the NBA early while bypassing college. Thousands of games are broadcast nationally with the players not making a dime from it. If child actors can make money from their performance why can't child athletes? I know a pandora's box would be opened if child athletes made money from playing sports, but why should adults make so much money from their "fun."
As long as the children are having fun and making lifelong memories let them continue to play in the Little League World Series. (I'm too tired to think of a wittier ending)

The world is driven by want, by need. Not need to survive but need to impress, unless impression is survival. Bigger, better, expensive all replace content, enough, and just right. A small percentage of people are happy with what they have, which is enough to get by. The rest of us need to impress. If we lived alone on a lake or on an island we wouldnt need expensive purses, watches, jeans, phones, or houses. But on an island, life is motivated by survival. If survival is easily obtained then what motivates life? Animals live and evolve to reproduce and expand, but if reproduction requires no effort what would press evolution? The "American Dream" isnt to live freely and happily, but to improve on one's self and future selves. As life becomes easier and easier for us to live then status is one of the few things we have control over. Free will doesnt become the pursuit of life. If life is guaranteed, then free will becomes the pursuit of Chanel.