Where the words come from

I find inspiration for writing everywhere. Life is so full of interesting coincidences and quirky people. Here are two characters I saw this week.

I read a new post on the blog you never can tell with bees today. You may recall this is the blog of a teacher in Mississippi who struggles to capture the imagination of his students. Yesterday he started a list of reasons why his kids struggle to focus on school. The kinds of things his kids have to deal with were never a part of my reality as a high school kid. He ended his post with the conclusion, "the list goes on, and I continue to be amazed that they show up at all. It's hard to look too far ahead."

He has another blog where he talks about his garden. Together, his two blogs create the most striking and interesting piece of contrast. At the end of a recent post on his garden he wrote:

I've got to get some more seeds - hopefully I can plant some lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, summer squash, broccoli, carrots, maybe peppers... The possibilities are, of course, endless.

Someone could write a book, or at least a great short story on this guy.

I also recently discovered an incredibly endearing character at work. His name is Pablo. I'd leave him nameless except his name is so much a part of what makes him a character. Pablo has a cloud of curly brown hair--perhaps the first thing I noticed because I seem to always pick up on hair first and I love curls. He's maybe a bit short and roundish. He wears round wire-frame glasses and is soft spoken with an accent I haven't placed yet. The other day he wore a bright yellow button down shirt, red tie, and black pants. His pants are always a little bit too short so when he walks his white socks peak out. I'm not sure what his story would be. I'm not certain of his personality yet.

A while ago I had a bus driver who looked like the crazy Mexican drug lord on Nip/Tuck. I imagined that he was fed up with the -30 degree temps and cursing whatever situation it was that sent him to this frozen place. Everyday I wondered if it was the morning he'd veer off route and make a run for the border. Scratch that. Everyday I hoped it was the morning he'd veer off route and make a run for the border.

And then there's me. What will my story be? I hope I get to be the hero.