I have so many things to be thankful for, but, lately, what I am most thankful for is just to be thankful. Having lived through so many phases of my life where I really have to work at being thankful, I am just blessed right now to feel thankfulness for almost everything I see. But, of course, I would like to make a Thanksgiving day list!
1. My friends. This is the third thanksgiving in a row I have spent with the families of my friends. First with Katie in Texas, then with Beth in Ashland, now with Kim in Jersey. Having my family so far away in CO, I am so grateful my friends let me join time with their families. And I am thankful to have gracious, supportive, hilarious, motivating friends.
2. La familia. I have the best familia in the world. A family who loves and cares for each other. And most importantly--a family who laughs together! I am so incredibly grateful for a devoted, faithful, and hardworking dad, a kind, lovable, food-making, determined, hilarious mother, a brother who always watched out for me and makes me crack up, and a great sister-in-law.
3. Mis abuelos. My grandparents are THE MOST generous people I know. THE MOST. I am so thankful for their role in my life and the way they love other people.
4. God's grace. What would life be if I had to spend my days trying to please God? And what is my life knowing God loves me without reserve? It would be endless striving and it is blessed freedom. So thankful God loves me.
5. The usual--health, a job, trees, sky, leaves, seasons, new people, old people, my bike, being able to be outside, books, running, people having fun, freedom, food, sleep, skype, the internet, going to CO for Christmas, my apartment, my roommate, where I live, opportunities, money in the bank.
6. But most of all, I am thankful God has blessed me to be thankful. It's a gift.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
The Decision
I never know what to call it. "I became a Christian", "I accepted Jesus", "I gave my life over to God". None of it ever sounds right. When something doesn't sound right, I usually try to say exactly what happened instead of relying on an overused statement.
What happened was I desperately told Jesus He could have my life if He wanted it. And I would be His forever in exchange. I remember thinking Jesus was getting the extremely sore raw end of the deal and He was kind of a fool to take me up on it, but, man, if He would, if only he would...
By this point in my life--9 years ago on November 5--I knew Jesus was real. I would think an occasional desperate thought, "Please don't let me die now God because I know I will go to hell." With as much of a mess as my life was, it's hard for me to remember why I didn't give up sooner. But I think I had to get to a point where I was so sick of my self reliance and so disturbed at my propensity for screwing up my perfectly poised life before I would surrender. More than anything, that's what it was--surrender. I finally surrendered. It was the best decision I have ever made. In the moment after surrendering, the horrible dark oppressive weight I carried around all the time left and I felt relief for the first time in what felt like my whole life. That weight has never returned. Nor has the lonliness, depression, or desperation of my life before Jesus. Yes--of course life just plain stinks sometimes, but the stink is so different. I know it has an end. And I know I am not alone in it.
I don't like the phrase--"I became a Christian"--for a reason. I think and hope I am still becoming one. If I had become one then, life would have been done. But in the past 9 years, I hope I am becoming more of a Christian every day. Because a Christian--one who is totally identified by Jesus that they actually take on His name--would be the most loving, kind, caring, passionate, and engaging person around. I know in the last 9 years I have become more like that but I am oh so far away from the end. In fact, sometimes I backtrack years in a few seconds. But thank the Lord there is always a new day.
This is the first year I actually forgot my spiritual birthday. Most years I anticipate it with the joy of marking off another year of knowing Jesus as Lord, but this year I forgot until 2 days later. I wasn't sure what to make of it--has it become less special? Do I not care anymore? But today I saw a huge oak tree in the park. I thought about how it came from one tiny little seed. And I thought about how that night 9 years ago was a tiny little seed. And it's never going to stop growing.
What happened was I desperately told Jesus He could have my life if He wanted it. And I would be His forever in exchange. I remember thinking Jesus was getting the extremely sore raw end of the deal and He was kind of a fool to take me up on it, but, man, if He would, if only he would...
By this point in my life--9 years ago on November 5--I knew Jesus was real. I would think an occasional desperate thought, "Please don't let me die now God because I know I will go to hell." With as much of a mess as my life was, it's hard for me to remember why I didn't give up sooner. But I think I had to get to a point where I was so sick of my self reliance and so disturbed at my propensity for screwing up my perfectly poised life before I would surrender. More than anything, that's what it was--surrender. I finally surrendered. It was the best decision I have ever made. In the moment after surrendering, the horrible dark oppressive weight I carried around all the time left and I felt relief for the first time in what felt like my whole life. That weight has never returned. Nor has the lonliness, depression, or desperation of my life before Jesus. Yes--of course life just plain stinks sometimes, but the stink is so different. I know it has an end. And I know I am not alone in it.
I don't like the phrase--"I became a Christian"--for a reason. I think and hope I am still becoming one. If I had become one then, life would have been done. But in the past 9 years, I hope I am becoming more of a Christian every day. Because a Christian--one who is totally identified by Jesus that they actually take on His name--would be the most loving, kind, caring, passionate, and engaging person around. I know in the last 9 years I have become more like that but I am oh so far away from the end. In fact, sometimes I backtrack years in a few seconds. But thank the Lord there is always a new day.
This is the first year I actually forgot my spiritual birthday. Most years I anticipate it with the joy of marking off another year of knowing Jesus as Lord, but this year I forgot until 2 days later. I wasn't sure what to make of it--has it become less special? Do I not care anymore? But today I saw a huge oak tree in the park. I thought about how it came from one tiny little seed. And I thought about how that night 9 years ago was a tiny little seed. And it's never going to stop growing.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Being Not Married
One heavy plastic bag of groceries hangs off of one arm which is also the support of my bag which has the keys. The other arm is trying to hold the other bag of groceries (said bag is holding one of the last few dozen eggs from the store and a glass bottle of spaghetti sauce). Both bags are cutting off circulation after my 5 block walk home in the rain as I tried to hold my sad little umbrella up in the cold, wet rain and wind. I arrive at the door and start the procedure of trying to simultaneously a) hold both bags of groceries; b) keep purse bag on shoulder; c) extract keys from inside tiny zipper pocket inside of bag; d) open screen door with all hands occupied; e) get to door with umbrella still open. In this precarious position, the purse bag falls open mouth to the ground, things spill out, I lose the umbrella, rain starts splashing all over me, and I think, "Dang it. This is what husbands are for. To open the freaking door on a rainy night."
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Good Things and my brain
It's finally cooler in my house and it's mouse free--thanks to Bessie Lou the cat. Which means it's a pleasant place to be! Last night, I made butternut squash soup while listening to Ray LaMontagne and enjoying a glass of red wine NOT from TJs. Although I love the $5 bottles of wine at TJs, the rare upgrade to a $10 bottle of wine is a special treat. Plus and most greatest of all, I FINALLY FINISHED 18 miles. No idea how I am going to make it to 26 though. My brain constantly tells me to stop after about 16, so it's just me and my brain. The uncontrolled part of my brain that acts independently of me says, "Stop--this is ludicrous, absurd, no one does this, you are not from Kenya, why do you think you can do this, just stop running, stop, stop, stop". The other part of my brain over which I exert some control says, "If you stop now, then what? You're just going to stop? You're not dead. Keep running. Run faster! Run! Run!" Is this going to go on for 8 miles on October 31? Seems exhausting.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Life Between Books
I consume books. I do not simply read them. I consume them. Devour them. Suck the life out of them, chew them up, swallow them, and digest them. I do not daintily nor carelessly read a book. And the ones that call for careless reading I toss aside after a few pages.
I used to think prison would be an okay place because I could read all day. As a child, I dreamed of inventions where the book's pages would be cast on the ceiling so I did not have to hold the book up with my tired little arm. My mom and dad could only get me to do certain things if I were promised hours of uninterrupted reading. I distinctly remember thinking how lucky I was authors created such intricate provocative characters whom I could know every aspect of their lives. I cannot rest until I see what a stranger in the airport, on the metro, at the bus stop is reading because from what they are reading, I can tell who they are and what they like.
I blame my story-telling grandfather and my fellow book-devourer father for this love of literature (although his consumption is much more methodical and intentional--much like he eats) .
When I am between books and haven't settled within the pages, I feel restless.
I used to think prison would be an okay place because I could read all day. As a child, I dreamed of inventions where the book's pages would be cast on the ceiling so I did not have to hold the book up with my tired little arm. My mom and dad could only get me to do certain things if I were promised hours of uninterrupted reading. I distinctly remember thinking how lucky I was authors created such intricate provocative characters whom I could know every aspect of their lives. I cannot rest until I see what a stranger in the airport, on the metro, at the bus stop is reading because from what they are reading, I can tell who they are and what they like.
I blame my story-telling grandfather and my fellow book-devourer father for this love of literature (although his consumption is much more methodical and intentional--much like he eats) .
When I am between books and haven't settled within the pages, I feel restless.
"Cuentame algo, aunque sea una mentira"
The Alphabetizer
It began with a simple metal rod.
"You can use it, you know, to alphabetize all those papers you need to file. It goes a lot faster."
I just stared wide eyed and open mouthed at this long metal rod in a red and white Office Depot box. I began to emphatically deny its effectiveness and list 8 reasons why there was no way this tool could possibly help me do my job any faster since the alphabetizing I was doing was clearly way beyond the scope of this simple rod.
"Alright," she shrugged, "Well, take it anyway."
I walked back to my office, rod in hand, trying to ignore what this thing meant that I had been given. I finally understand why a mother hates to be given an iron even if it will make her life easier because she wants to scream and say, "An iron! All of this, all of me, all of my life and experiences and dreams, and now I am being given an iron?!"
The next day, I saw the tool peering out at me from under a pile of papers where it had been shoved. Calls, people, emails, gchats all clamored for my attention shouting at me to do some task the equivalent of alphabetizing. A short, tense meeting with my boss and next thing you know I am sitting in my office chair staring at my computer with tears spilling over my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. "Get it together, Amalie. What are you doing?" I say to myself. But there is no stopping it, I have become an alphabetizer. I shut my door and cry for a good 15 minutes. I am not really one to cry too easily. Yes, I cry, but at work? Over nothing? Just a normal work day? And a cry that I could not control but just sort of took over? Sometimes, I like to cry, you know, I just feel like a good cry, but this was not like that. This was more like when you have to go to the bathroom. There was no stopping it.
For months, actually, years, I have been praying that I would learn humility. The Gorbold clan is not known for being a humble bunch. We are doctors, lawyers, engineers, build our own houses, smarter than the average bear, and I inherited this, "I can do anything" type of attitude. As a teenager, it was mostly invested in rebellion and screwing the system, but as an adult and follower of Jesus, it has been invested in traveling the world, helping people, living in new places, getting my Masters, and supporting myself. Humility has been hard to come by. Although I know I have been born into the most fortunate of circumstances, I also think my decisions have gotten me here. But, lately, my decisions seem futile and my own existence is like quicksand.
I see my peers get married to wonderful people, have smiley happy cute babies, work at amazing world-changing jobs, and laugh with joys of their lives, and I feel I have not much to boast of. And in this not boasting and in watching the success and happiness of my friends, I am learning humility. I just thought I would learn it in a more Mother Teresa-esque way where I was saving beggars and orphans from filth and poverty, and people would gasp and say, "Oh, she's so humble, she never thinks of herself but only of others!" Instead, I feel squeezed to "consider others better than myself" and allow others "to become greater as I become less". To be frank, it is not fun. But Jesus was humble and I want to be like Him. So I will alphabetize. And one day when I am doing something I love and I am good at, I will think of the days of alphabetizing and remember we do not always get to the places we want to be by our own strength.
"You can use it, you know, to alphabetize all those papers you need to file. It goes a lot faster."
I just stared wide eyed and open mouthed at this long metal rod in a red and white Office Depot box. I began to emphatically deny its effectiveness and list 8 reasons why there was no way this tool could possibly help me do my job any faster since the alphabetizing I was doing was clearly way beyond the scope of this simple rod.
"Alright," she shrugged, "Well, take it anyway."
I walked back to my office, rod in hand, trying to ignore what this thing meant that I had been given. I finally understand why a mother hates to be given an iron even if it will make her life easier because she wants to scream and say, "An iron! All of this, all of me, all of my life and experiences and dreams, and now I am being given an iron?!"
The next day, I saw the tool peering out at me from under a pile of papers where it had been shoved. Calls, people, emails, gchats all clamored for my attention shouting at me to do some task the equivalent of alphabetizing. A short, tense meeting with my boss and next thing you know I am sitting in my office chair staring at my computer with tears spilling over my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. "Get it together, Amalie. What are you doing?" I say to myself. But there is no stopping it, I have become an alphabetizer. I shut my door and cry for a good 15 minutes. I am not really one to cry too easily. Yes, I cry, but at work? Over nothing? Just a normal work day? And a cry that I could not control but just sort of took over? Sometimes, I like to cry, you know, I just feel like a good cry, but this was not like that. This was more like when you have to go to the bathroom. There was no stopping it.
For months, actually, years, I have been praying that I would learn humility. The Gorbold clan is not known for being a humble bunch. We are doctors, lawyers, engineers, build our own houses, smarter than the average bear, and I inherited this, "I can do anything" type of attitude. As a teenager, it was mostly invested in rebellion and screwing the system, but as an adult and follower of Jesus, it has been invested in traveling the world, helping people, living in new places, getting my Masters, and supporting myself. Humility has been hard to come by. Although I know I have been born into the most fortunate of circumstances, I also think my decisions have gotten me here. But, lately, my decisions seem futile and my own existence is like quicksand.
I see my peers get married to wonderful people, have smiley happy cute babies, work at amazing world-changing jobs, and laugh with joys of their lives, and I feel I have not much to boast of. And in this not boasting and in watching the success and happiness of my friends, I am learning humility. I just thought I would learn it in a more Mother Teresa-esque way where I was saving beggars and orphans from filth and poverty, and people would gasp and say, "Oh, she's so humble, she never thinks of herself but only of others!" Instead, I feel squeezed to "consider others better than myself" and allow others "to become greater as I become less". To be frank, it is not fun. But Jesus was humble and I want to be like Him. So I will alphabetize. And one day when I am doing something I love and I am good at, I will think of the days of alphabetizing and remember we do not always get to the places we want to be by our own strength.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Mean Person
I am a mean person. I tell people this and they say gasp and say, "No way! You? I don't believe it." I tell them they should see me at work. I don't think people at work would gasp and deny my meanness.
Why am I mean at work? Well, I get overwhelmed. I don't think work is necessarily overwhelming but the 596 other things I have going on outside of work can be overwhelming. But at work, I have 200 students who I advise asking me questions. Hence, I get mean. By mean, I mean to say that I do not follow the golden rule and treat people as I want to be treated. Instead, I treat people as though they are annoying me and have clearly invaded the Amalie zone of space and time. They are intruders and I attack.
Jesus keeps me from being mean. My current levels of meanness are directly related to amount of time spent with God. I actually used to be a really really mean person. Super mean. Ask my parents. They will attest to how mean I was at the age of 19. Good thing I met Jesus when I was 20 or else I might now be currently on Judge Judy for yelling at police officers (something I did before the age of 20). I have softened with time and with God.
I apologize to all my co-workers and students whom I advise for my behavior over the last few weeks. These poor innocents have had to bear the Amalie who does not get alone with God. Like I said, she is a mean person.
Why am I mean at work? Well, I get overwhelmed. I don't think work is necessarily overwhelming but the 596 other things I have going on outside of work can be overwhelming. But at work, I have 200 students who I advise asking me questions. Hence, I get mean. By mean, I mean to say that I do not follow the golden rule and treat people as I want to be treated. Instead, I treat people as though they are annoying me and have clearly invaded the Amalie zone of space and time. They are intruders and I attack.
Jesus keeps me from being mean. My current levels of meanness are directly related to amount of time spent with God. I actually used to be a really really mean person. Super mean. Ask my parents. They will attest to how mean I was at the age of 19. Good thing I met Jesus when I was 20 or else I might now be currently on Judge Judy for yelling at police officers (something I did before the age of 20). I have softened with time and with God.
I apologize to all my co-workers and students whom I advise for my behavior over the last few weeks. These poor innocents have had to bear the Amalie who does not get alone with God. Like I said, she is a mean person.
Turning 29
"It's the first anniversary of your 29th birthday." "Last year of your 20s!" "Oh man, how does it feel?" "Wow, that's scary!" "We are getting so old!"
Those are the usual aphorisms I have heard over the past few weeks as I announced my 29th birthday. I think this fear of growing older is a bit trite. Why are we afraid of aging past 29? Do we actually fear aging past our 20s or is it a cultural thing to say like "Nice weather today"? Granted, about a week after my 26th birthday, I noticed my first wrinkle and have been applying eye creams like crazy ever since. Still, I will take the age of 29 over the eternal youth of 25 any day.
I believe I owe the contentedness of getting older to a few things. First, God. I believe wholeheartedly 100 percent not a doubt in my mind in eternal life through Jesus. Thus, I don't fear death. Thus, getting older is not getting closer to death. Second, my mom and my grandmother. They both celebrate getting older with good health and good looks and much joy and happiness. And they are both much wiser than me. Based on their experience, I figure I have a lot to look forward to. Third, relationships are so much easier as you get older. The devastation of hurt relationships when I was younger is nothing I want to return to. Felt like life was over sometimes. Now, I can just acknowledge something for what it is and keep moving forward.
Simply put--life is just easier at 29 than it was at 26. I have had 3 more years to learn how to confront challenges and problems, 3 more years to learn how to find more things humorous, 3 more years to learn how to be a better friend, and 3 more years to learn how to keep learning. I did have different expectations of how I would feel at 29. Like I would have it all together and not have my mom texting me to remind me to do my taxes. That I would know how to cook a meal for more than one person. That I would be married. But none of these things have happened. According to the average life span (plus 10 for exercise and healthy life habits), I have 57 more years for all of these things to happen. Right now, I am going to enjoy all that 29 has to offer.
Those are the usual aphorisms I have heard over the past few weeks as I announced my 29th birthday. I think this fear of growing older is a bit trite. Why are we afraid of aging past 29? Do we actually fear aging past our 20s or is it a cultural thing to say like "Nice weather today"? Granted, about a week after my 26th birthday, I noticed my first wrinkle and have been applying eye creams like crazy ever since. Still, I will take the age of 29 over the eternal youth of 25 any day.
I believe I owe the contentedness of getting older to a few things. First, God. I believe wholeheartedly 100 percent not a doubt in my mind in eternal life through Jesus. Thus, I don't fear death. Thus, getting older is not getting closer to death. Second, my mom and my grandmother. They both celebrate getting older with good health and good looks and much joy and happiness. And they are both much wiser than me. Based on their experience, I figure I have a lot to look forward to. Third, relationships are so much easier as you get older. The devastation of hurt relationships when I was younger is nothing I want to return to. Felt like life was over sometimes. Now, I can just acknowledge something for what it is and keep moving forward.
Simply put--life is just easier at 29 than it was at 26. I have had 3 more years to learn how to confront challenges and problems, 3 more years to learn how to find more things humorous, 3 more years to learn how to be a better friend, and 3 more years to learn how to keep learning. I did have different expectations of how I would feel at 29. Like I would have it all together and not have my mom texting me to remind me to do my taxes. That I would know how to cook a meal for more than one person. That I would be married. But none of these things have happened. According to the average life span (plus 10 for exercise and healthy life habits), I have 57 more years for all of these things to happen. Right now, I am going to enjoy all that 29 has to offer.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Trying new things and my 29th birthday
A friend once said she wanted to often try new things that scared her as a sort of "life goal".
I thought about that a lot and about how as we get older we tend to stop trying new things. We start to say, "I have never done that before" when someone asks us to do something as if never doing something before is a reason not to ever do it in the future.
It started with rock climbing. My friend said she was going so I decided to go with her. Outdoors in the rain with real rocks next to the river. Little does my friend know how scared I was to go and how many excuses I thought of not to go. But I often think about things that scare me, "If I don't do this, what else will I not do?" So, I went. It was empowering. I felt amazing. And I kept doing it even though each time I do the first climb I am totally freaked out. Since rock climbing, I have tried other new things: knitting, eating with chopsticks, bike commuting on the road with traffic, asking out a guy on a date. Plans for future new things include swing dancing, starting a non-profit, and learning chess. I don't want to not try something just because I haven't tried it yet.
I don't want to get old and rigid. There's a Regina Spektor song that says, "You're young until you're not". I will be young until I am not. Next blog: thoughts on turning 29.
I thought about that a lot and about how as we get older we tend to stop trying new things. We start to say, "I have never done that before" when someone asks us to do something as if never doing something before is a reason not to ever do it in the future.
It started with rock climbing. My friend said she was going so I decided to go with her. Outdoors in the rain with real rocks next to the river. Little does my friend know how scared I was to go and how many excuses I thought of not to go. But I often think about things that scare me, "If I don't do this, what else will I not do?" So, I went. It was empowering. I felt amazing. And I kept doing it even though each time I do the first climb I am totally freaked out. Since rock climbing, I have tried other new things: knitting, eating with chopsticks, bike commuting on the road with traffic, asking out a guy on a date. Plans for future new things include swing dancing, starting a non-profit, and learning chess. I don't want to not try something just because I haven't tried it yet.
I don't want to get old and rigid. There's a Regina Spektor song that says, "You're young until you're not". I will be young until I am not. Next blog: thoughts on turning 29.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
What's the best advice someone ever gave you?
My best friend gave me the two best pieces of advice in my life.
1. One time, I commented on how this guy I didn't care for very much always looked mad, annoyed, affected, too cool for school, and generally unpleasant. My best friend said to me, "Maybe that's how you always look to him." Since that lovely comment from my dear friend, instead of focusing on how people are acting towards me, I try to think if perhaps it is a reflection of how they perceive me. I have made a lot more friends since this fateful day.
2. As my best friend and I were crossing the Atlantic Ocean on our way to Spain/Morocco, my friend, who had a lot of time to think because in typical fashion I was able to sleep the whole way and she was wide awake, had a nature-inspired revelation that I think about a lot. She noticed how beautiful the clouds were but also thought about how they served such an important purpose in giving us water/life. She said it made her think about how God made things not only to have a function but to be beautiful. Clouds didn't have to be beautiful to serve their purpose, but they are. I suppose having purpose is important to life, but if I lose the beauty in my life for the sake of some purpose, I wonder how Godly that is.
She's a smart gal.
1. One time, I commented on how this guy I didn't care for very much always looked mad, annoyed, affected, too cool for school, and generally unpleasant. My best friend said to me, "Maybe that's how you always look to him." Since that lovely comment from my dear friend, instead of focusing on how people are acting towards me, I try to think if perhaps it is a reflection of how they perceive me. I have made a lot more friends since this fateful day.
2. As my best friend and I were crossing the Atlantic Ocean on our way to Spain/Morocco, my friend, who had a lot of time to think because in typical fashion I was able to sleep the whole way and she was wide awake, had a nature-inspired revelation that I think about a lot. She noticed how beautiful the clouds were but also thought about how they served such an important purpose in giving us water/life. She said it made her think about how God made things not only to have a function but to be beautiful. Clouds didn't have to be beautiful to serve their purpose, but they are. I suppose having purpose is important to life, but if I lose the beauty in my life for the sake of some purpose, I wonder how Godly that is.
She's a smart gal.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
daffodils
Daffodils have a tough job. They announce Springtime to the world and then continue to brightly declare it through cold, cloudy, gray, windy assault. I wish I was more like a daffodil.
Man vs. SUV
Man vs. SUV. Who wins?
I saw a man get hit on his bike today. Well, I didn't see the man get hit. I was standing next to the window in my 2nd floor apartment and heard "cruuuuunnnnch" and "Oh my God! What were you thinking!" screamed loudly and terrifically by a woman. I went to the window to see what happened. There was a bike bent in the sidewalk, a man with a blue cap sort of hopping around, a woman outside of her SUV saying "Are you okay? Are you okay?", and a pedestrian and another biker repeatedly asking the man the same question. I guessed by his complexion and his lack of response that he might not speak English. So I went out to interpret. Turns out he did not speak English. The cops showed up a few minutes later and started questioning everyone. I stood there shivering in my running clothes trying to interpret. The cops asked for ID. The man only had his work ID. They asked for his address. I could not understand what he said and he could not spell or write his street. They asked for his phone number. They asked what happened. They asked if he needed an ambulance. I asked if he was going to work. He said he had just dropped his nino off at school. I start freaking out that the man was going to get deported while his nino is in the escuela. The woman in the SUV is concerned about the man but seems more concerned about herself not getting a ticket. I want to make her pay for his bike but figure this is not okay to ask in front of the cops. The cops tell me to leave once they notice I am in shorts and a tshirt and cold. I figure it's best to do what the cops say and not try and stay to make sure justice is served. I tell the guy good luck and pray he does not get in trouble.
I hope blue-capped man does not get in trouble for dropping his son off at school and riding his bike in the crosswalk. I hope his son learns how to read and write really well. I hope the lady with the big car attempts bike commuting.
I saw a man get hit on his bike today. Well, I didn't see the man get hit. I was standing next to the window in my 2nd floor apartment and heard "cruuuuunnnnch" and "Oh my God! What were you thinking!" screamed loudly and terrifically by a woman. I went to the window to see what happened. There was a bike bent in the sidewalk, a man with a blue cap sort of hopping around, a woman outside of her SUV saying "Are you okay? Are you okay?", and a pedestrian and another biker repeatedly asking the man the same question. I guessed by his complexion and his lack of response that he might not speak English. So I went out to interpret. Turns out he did not speak English. The cops showed up a few minutes later and started questioning everyone. I stood there shivering in my running clothes trying to interpret. The cops asked for ID. The man only had his work ID. They asked for his address. I could not understand what he said and he could not spell or write his street. They asked for his phone number. They asked what happened. They asked if he needed an ambulance. I asked if he was going to work. He said he had just dropped his nino off at school. I start freaking out that the man was going to get deported while his nino is in the escuela. The woman in the SUV is concerned about the man but seems more concerned about herself not getting a ticket. I want to make her pay for his bike but figure this is not okay to ask in front of the cops. The cops tell me to leave once they notice I am in shorts and a tshirt and cold. I figure it's best to do what the cops say and not try and stay to make sure justice is served. I tell the guy good luck and pray he does not get in trouble.
I hope blue-capped man does not get in trouble for dropping his son off at school and riding his bike in the crosswalk. I hope his son learns how to read and write really well. I hope the lady with the big car attempts bike commuting.
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