One time I was riding along a Texas highway with my boyfriend. I have an incredibly selective memory, so the fact that I bring this up, means that recalling the moment is significant especially if I was then able to find a file for it in my dusty ten story internal library... for means of referencing it now.
I wasn't driving the car. I didn't have a car. I had a motorcycle, and that doesn't make for too many cross country conversations with a partner. If Ihad been driving... we would have stopped the car.
It was a boring and typical stretch of Texas highway. We were high on each other's company. Listening to music. Waiting for the next ridiculous billboard to insult. Thankful that we weren't toothless, proud of our intellect. Maybe even satisfied that we hadn't died by 20. Whatever.
I look out my window and I see cotton growing in fields as we cruise along. As soon as I see it, I say, "Stop. It's cotton." My boyfriend laughs and we continue at the same speed. I say, "Seriously. Stop." He keeps his foot metered on the pedal and says "Why?" I say, "I want to pick some." He laughs again and we continue to move at the same pace. I think I start to panic. I can tell that the fields will end soon and I will have blown my chance. I say, "I never picked cotton before." It was true. I had only bought balls of it to wipe off my grease paint and had filled my guilty soul with stories of slaves destroying their fingers from picking it. I had to do it, you understand?
My boyfriend thinks I am kidding, then realizes I am probably serious, only my kind of serious is more insinuation without anger. But once that insinuation has been ignored (since I rarely push people) there is no telling how I will retaliate.
He did not stop. And I was actually really upset about it. I think he was afraid to "lose time" or be caught trespassing. Trespassing? The cotton was growing through the fenceline. I was one girl wanting to feel it in my hands. How could anyone have cared? If anyone had cared, I would have paid that price gladly.
I haven't forgotten about that, and I knew at the time, I should have thrown a fucking fit.
That's one story I want to share.
This other thing, isn't really a story.
I have very light colored eyes. I hate flourescent lights. Can't handle bright lights at all, but I hate talking to people with sunglasses on because I think it is self engrossing. So half the time I wish I could hide my eyes and shoot out the streetlights.
I was telling my sister in law about how people with lighter colored eyes are more affected by light than others. It was something I had read. I was convinced. Then she told me that she had read something about huskys. She said that they had such blue or whitish irises because of the intense amount of light that was let in while enduring long days and snow in the northern regions. I don't know about this. I need to know about this, but opted to make my notes about my sad cotton picking story instead of research.
Cotton... light eyes... the world is full of thoughts and blown out the sides with needs.