People always think that happiness is a faraway thing, something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains—a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you’re alone—just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.
Betty Smith,
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn (
via)
Dreams are the answers to questions that we haven’t yet figured out how to ask.
For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer day — three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
The world breaks us all. Afterward, some are stronger at the broken places.
Free Advice: Show Up Early
<rant>
Zeldman just posted a great article on showing up on time — nay, early — to meetings and other obligations. I’m glad he did.
How can a client blame you for a cab driver’s mistake? How can a conference organizer hold you accountable for an airline’s cancelled flight?
They can do it because lateness is part of the order of things, and grownup professionals plan for it, just as they plan for budget shortfalls and extra rounds of revision.
I’ve always been one to show up early. Some people get to the party late to make an entrance; I get to the party early to help with setting up and then slink away early in the night.
I credit my regular promptness — nay, my predisposition to be not just on time, but early — to my father, a man whom I’ve never known to be late in his life. For anything. For that, I give him thanks, because there are very few things that drive me batty like people who are constantly tardy.
At my current workplace, tardiness is expected. A 3pm meeting will always start at 3:10pm, even if I’ve been sitting in there since 2:50pm. I take extra work with me to every meeting, knowing I’ll have at least 10-15 minutes of waiting time before meetings begin. This tardiness is not to be frowned upon, but instead it is an expected part of corporate culture. I don’t understand it at all.
Unlike my father, I’m not always early; I’ve had my moments where I’ve made errors in judgment with regards to travel time and shown up late. I can forgive people for that. What drives me batty is consistent patterns of tardiness — where being late is not just expected, but excused.
</rant>
And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being loved is intolerable to many.
Carson McCullers,
The Ballad of the Sad Café and Other Stories (
via)