if you don’t have anything good to say….

bill-gates-house-medina

If you don’t have anything good to say….don’t say anything.

 

 

 

 

I’m kidding. I always can find something good to say.

Always.

Usually.

Of course, I can find a lot of things to say that aren’t good, too. I can find a lot of things that I think are funny that fall flat and hurt peoples feelings.

That just comes natural, I guess.

I’m good at that….sometimes.

I don’t know about that “don’t say anything” part of the old statement, though.

You don’t even get close to “right” if you don’t try….and the habit of clamming up if you can’t figure out the right thing to say is a bad one.

How much of “almost right” never gets said because it’s….almost right?

I’d say 95% less if I always waited until I knew that was I was saying was “right”.

I’d be afraid to open my mouth if I had to verify everything before I let it leak out.

That’s the beauty of people only really listening to 15% of what I say….the ratio isn’t as important as I think it is.

“Good” is kind of subjective, anyway.

I’m sure that Hitler thought he was doing a bang-up job.

I’m sure that. at the time, he thought that he was really in the groove.

What the heck….just talk.

Just talk.

We rode around the lake yesterday on our bikes….and this is changing the subject pretty abruptly but I’m tired of talking about talking.

How does that happen to people that they get a house on the lake?

That’s not the height of luxury in my eyes…the local lake is small potatoes,really….it’s not very glamorous….but how does it happen that people arrive at a place in their life where they get to sit on the porch of a million dollar property on the water and let the sun hit their face from that vantage point?

Now, of course, it’s the same sun that hits my face when I’m sitting on the seat of a thrift store bike.

I don’t have to pay taxes on my movable perch, either.

I can look at the people on their lake house porch as I zoom by slowly….see them whooping and hollering…and wonder what their lives are like that they get to hang out in an expensive house like that….and the exact same sun that they are enjoying is hitting me in the same way….even if it’s in a slightly different place.

And….I DON’T HAVE TO PAY TAXES ON AN OLD BICYCLE SEAT.

WHO’S THE WINNER?!! I DON’T PAY THOSE TAXES!! WHO’S THE WINNER NOW, HUH?!!

I still wonder how that happens….that “rich folk” stuff….private planes and houses in pretty areas….fancy cars….really expensive loafers (shoes).

I don’t care about loafers….I need boots.

But….I have a little house in a beautiful area….and, right now, I can’t think of anyplace I need to fly off to….so what do I need all of that stuff for?

I’m wondering about it all, though….I must think that I need it on some deep (or really shallow) level.

Those people are all so nice. They whoop on the rich people porch like really nice people.

See….I could justify saying something after all….something good.

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *