untold_stories mcdougall I was sitting outside of the City Garage on a very cold, very cloudy and very wintry night. I was with my friends mike and matt, but they left to get some people. I was sitting on the curb in my shorts and tee shirt shivering like crazy. I decided to put my hand in my shirt so I would have less skin exposed and more skin to skin warmth. So, there I was all balled up, showing no arms on a curb when two young bums walk up and ask if I am ok. It took me by surprise at first because I was expecting them to ask me for spare change or a cigarette. I told them I was fine and just a little cold. They asked me why I was sitting outside with shorts and a tee shirt. So I told them about what had happened to me that day, everything from the trip to Charleston to the car being towed and they actually seemed interested. I finally got to the point in the story where I said that at the moment I am waiting for the towing guy to get back so I can get my car. One bum was a man and the other was a female. They looked like they were in their twenties and that they traveled together. The lady had on a few layers of worn out old clothes on her upper body and a pair of old faded gloves on her hands. On her legs she wore a pair of old faded light blue jeans with some small holes around the knee. The guy had on a shirt and a few jackets and black jeans all faded and worn. The guy was missing a few teeth but other than that the two looked like normal people in beat up clothes. I guess, now that I think about it, they probably haven’t been on the streets for very long. After I finished my story about my car troubles the guy offers me one of his jackets. I politely thank him but decline his offer because my friends will be back soon, and when they get back I am going to sit in his car until the towing guy is back. He nods his head and he and the lady start walking off. I raise my voice so that they can hear me and call out, "Thanks for offering though". The guy and the girl turn around and then the guy asks says, “No problem”. He then asks if I have a cigarette he could have. I apologize for no reason and say that I don’t have one because I don't smoke. He nods again and the two walk off. They were the nicest two bums I have ever met and I feel bad for calling them that. They were two of the friendliest strangers I have met on the streets. I hope I see them again one day. I would like to get their names and maybe buy them a soda. 030127 ... Black Argonaut what a nice story. 030129 ... bandersnatch homeless people are some of the nicest people i know. 030130 ... megan there once was a little girl who thought that the world was cruel. she didn't think life was worth it, she didn't think she should have to try, she definitely didn't think love would come. two people changed her life. one of them everyone can meet, the other not many can. the first won her soul. he took her in his arms and told her that he loved her, that she did matter, that she did have worth. he told her that he knew so much about her, he could even number the hairs on her head. he knew her before she was even born. he could offer many things that no other person could, and she accepted, and a smile glowed from inside. the second won her heart. he smiled at her, held her hand, and finally kissed her lips when she was ready. he let her stand on his feet to dance. he talked to her to all hours of morning just to hear what she wanted to say. he held her while she sobbed. he gave her a love greater than all that on earth, only being surpassed by the first person. life could not be lived for this girl, without this person by her side. both changed her life in magnificent ways. both saved her from a future that was dark and scary and unknown, and placed her in the light. nd it sure feels good. 030201 ... mcdougall After thinking about it for a while, I realized that I do not have a whole lot of untold stories. I talk too much. I talk to everyone. I was working the cash register and I found myself talking to everyone who came in, about stupid stuff, which they probably did not care at all about. I’m not one of those people who tell everyone everything though. I can keep secrets and what not. I am trustworthy. The experiences I take part in everyday are the only forms of excitement that I have. I feel like I should tell everyone, because for some reason I think everyone wants to know. I am sure that no one wants to hear though. Oh well, I can't see myself giving up talking, although I did try that once in 8th grade for lent. Hey... wait a minute This turns out to be an untold story in its self. That makes me happy, plus I am tired, and it doesn't take much to make me happy when I am tired. There it is, untold story 2: the story of self and realization. 030202 ... mcdougall Self realization (time, 8:53): everything I write is an untold story. That is why I write; to tell the stories of my life, untold to all the people who do not know me. Who am I to keep these outstanding real life experiences to myself? How can one learn when one has nothing to learn from? Sunday started normal and ended normal, for me... I woke up at 11:45. It felt so good to sleep in again. Matt was there, he was in town for the weekend, like usual. I checked my computer to see... bla bla bla. This isn't a journal, sorry about that. I’ll put it like this; I did normal morning stuff, self cleaning and dressing. For a late lunch I went to The Moon to pick up a muffin, a cookie, some cheese toast, and some juice. I walked around downtown until I was in front of the new theater. It’s nice, and big, and it was locked, so I took one of the three State Papers on the ground out side the front doors. The front page had a big picture of the space shuttle, Columbia, breaking up. There was a big title that said something about Columbia being destroyed and there being nothing left. I chuckled for a second because our capital city is Columbia and I thought it sounded funny coming from the state paper. I sat down in front of the theater reading the large Sunday paper and eating my muffin and drinking my juice. all that I could hear were the cars a block away in both directions, plus the one or two that drove down the street which I was on, and the large fountain, separating the two one way streets. two guys on bikes passed by a few times while I was reading about a theater in Columbia, which is taking part in a world wide one day reading of an ancient Greek play that promotes peace. In the play the women refuse to give the men sex while they are at war. It sounds really neat. The productions take place on March 3rd all around the world. The two guys on bikes also passed me while I was reading about an art museum in Columbia. I can't remember why I got up, I was enjoying sitting in the sun and reading the paper; it may have been to get a pen. What ever the reason I walked back to my car and drove off. I wasn't ready to go home yet. Maybe my head was too full of thoughts and I needed to write a little or maybe my body just needed to feel more warm sunlight on my tired wintry body. I decided to drive to the polo fields because a visit there is always rewarding and it wasn't far out of the way. The polo fields are the fields where they play polo. Polo is a sport played on horses, where the rides have mallets on long stick and they try to hit a white ball, which is about the size of a mix between a baseball and a softball, between two poles. The game requires a very large playing field which, during the polo off season, is empty. I park my car at the normal place and venture out to find the perfect place to sit and write in my journal. I walked around for a few minutes mostly in a straight line until I saw the first little lavender flower of a weed. I sat down next to it recalling in my mind the time last spring when Cam and I sat watching, as a giant lawnmower tractor cut all the lavender weed flowers, changing the color of the field from an outstanding color that contrasted with all of the blue in the sky and the green in the trees, to green, grass green, which sickly fit perfectly. I sat there, in the field, for a while writing away in my journal; recalling memories from past days, events and people, and present day thoughts, worldly ponderings trying to figure out if there is anyone else who sees everything the same way I do. The polo field always breads lonely thoughts but that’s part of the goodness that comes from it. When I was done writing I laid back as if I were in a showdown with the sun. My eyes were closed and red light from the other side of my eyelids was all I could see. At one point I opened my eyes and the world looked so incredibly strange. Everything looked like a shade of gray and I felt like I was in one of the black and white photos I took of the field a while back. Then I looked at the flower and I saw color again. The lavender brought me back to the color world, so I closed my eyes again and drifted into a warm quit sleep. …Later that night after I awoke from a mid-afternoon nap and went to church my friend Doug and I went to the kaolin pits. The kaolin pits are another phenomenal place in the geography of my town. A local company digs big holes in the ground to extract the clay and make products such as chalk, Pepto-Bismol, and I think the rubber in tires. I think I read that somewhere once but I may be wrong about the tire part. We parked near my old school as the thoughts of swinging on the third grade playground swung past my inner eye. I remember being able to see the top of the water tower that we are parked next too if I swung high enough. Back then I was oblivious to all of the extra special places in my town which I, now, visit regularly. I was paranoid until I saw the view in the dark from the edge of the cliff at the top of the pit. I hadn’t looked out over that edge in 6 years. I was scared we would be caught trespassing, it being so late at night. Then I realized that this was going to be another great adventure. We walked around a bit talking to each other about different subjects. Doug is a great person to bounce ideas off of. I hope I get to go to the kaolin pits again soon. I don’t want to wait another 6 years. 030203 ... mandy Neat 030204 ... megan i hope you write in that journal with lavender weeds forever. i hope i find you there sometime. if a very small girl walks by and smiles, you know who it is, don't be alarmed. :) 030205 ... mcdougall Two and a half months and I’m starting to doubt myself, my choices. I miss my friends. I was troubled and I thought I wanted a big change. That was back in December, that was back in Columbia. Over two months and over a thousand miles later I start to breakdown. I started reading almost constantly when I got here. I’ve gone through a small stack of books a hand full of magazines and newspapers, and pages and pages on blather. This has been my escape from myself, but last night I caught up with myself. As I finished a book, at the end there was a death and the first time I read it it was sad but now reading it, here where I am, after all that has happened sense the first read, it was ... it was like loosing my grandfather again and on top of that I was struck with a sudden sense of reality and location and separation of myself from myself in South Carolina. In the final pages, my eyes leaked and I understood why. After it was over I got undressed and squeezed into the shower and as the hot water hit me so did my misery, I wept for myself, I wept for my mistakes, I wept for my loss. I feel like I’ve lost all my friends from back home. I couldn't even keep my dog, and I’ve barely spoken to my brother sense he helped me move here. After the shower I spoke to my aunt and uncle. My eyes must have looked red and puffy as I walked into the room but they didn't ask questions. Odds are they didn't even notice. The basketball game was on and my uncle was saying something about hockey. I laughed to myself thinking he was confused but then stopped laughing at the thought that it was me who was confused. I was still shook up from the shower, I ate popcorn and drank a beer, I don't know who won the game. I didn't give it my full attention. TV is good that way, as long as you stare at it no one care if you’re really paying attention, I didn't have the stomach for basketball just then. I didn't have a tongue either. I ate a salmon wrap my aunt made then went to the store to buy them and myself beer, best rent to date, beer and coffee. I got to my room without further distractions and listened to The Decembrists and Modest Mouse on my mp3 player while I played Tetris on my phone. I couldn't get myself to read anything else that night, I needed nearly thoughtless entertainment, Tetris did it for me. I grabbed my notebook and wrote nonsense and drew nonsense, then wrote more nonsense. I wondered why the blue lines never felt like bars to me and then covered them with green ink while I sat in bed next to my other less full notebook without lines in it. I guess I like to keep myself in line, orsoemthinglikethat. The writing turned into slop and so did my thoughts and I rolled off the bed onto the floor with my pillow and slept. I’m still in my pjs and when I look outside I feel like I did yesterday. I’m going to see the Merchant of Venice tonight, I’ll be sociable and open, and I’ll smile. But right now I don't see myself wanting too. 070325 ... nom treasures 070325 what's it to you? who go blather from