Yellow Cabs and White Lights

A cab ride to the Cheesecake Factory seemed regular enough. I overlooked the cab driver, which was my first mistake, and indulged in conversations with my friends. After picking apart each other's personalities like wolves tearing through sheep only to knaw on the bone, we reclined into silence. Then, the cab driver strangely became the topic of conversation. Living in his home of Samalia all his life, this kind, married man left the country due to civil war. As a government official, he fled for his life as the oppressive regime sought to kill any government officials. And when my biggest problem for the day was affording this dinner, a man had fled his country, come to America, established a decent job, and is continuing to support his family, his oldest son 23 and youngest 5. Accomodated to this new culture, the man understands cultural diversity but longs for his return to his country. Of all this, it is great that America can provide opporunities and liberties for this man. But waking up, he's not surrounded by the people, the food, and the quintessential norms, that I have grown to love. He yearn for his country, his home.

I, on the other hand, yearned for clarity tonight. Laying on the grass and looking at the stars, I stared in awe at the work the was before me: the infinite universe and the tiny speck that I was in it. A greater thing is going on here, and I know it. Insofar, that was all clear, but a certain girl roused my emotions once more. A little bit of temptation and a lot of self-control allowed us to manage through the night, but we settled on this one term. If I kiss her at all, then my hair is to become a faux hawk. But in the other event that she kisses me, she can't shower for one day (this girl is a shower maniac). How do you like those terms Lindsay?