They Call Her Dirty Sally

Is a life defined by circumstances, or do circumstances define a life?

The funny thing is, we spend most of our lives dwelling on the regret around us, not noticing that the blessings are stacked so much higher, right at eye level, where it’s easiest to see. Blessings. That’s what life is made of. Too many to count. Sometimes it just takes longer to see them.

His motto is actually “write drunk and edit sober”—he’s got the words hanging on a plaque in bold black letters behind his desk right above an ever-present bottle of Jack Daniels—but I say nothing. Monday afternoon is not the best time to argue, much like every other day of the week. And unfortunately for me, I don’t have a pregnant wife at home to fall back on.

She’s not trying to be cruel, but a belief about someone is hard to get over and even harder to shake, especially when everyone around you believes it too.

You don’t bite the hand that feeds you when there aren’t any other hands.

person without hope is a person who slowly ceases to exist.

It’s then that I realize…just because you’re the main character in a story doesn’t mean you get a happy ending.

Baby steps stop working the moment you make someone take a giant leap forward.

When you spend your life around rotten people, you wind up in rotten situations.

It takes courage to face your fears. But it takes the power away from fear when you have fun doing it.

Is life defined by circumstances, or do circumstances define a life? From what I gather, the short answer is this: When you spend your life around rotten people, you wind up in rotten situations. And if you’re not careful, the rotten rubs off, sometimes infecting a body that wasn’t even standing nearby. Everyone forgets that rotten carries a stench that travels far and worms its way inside the lungs to irritate the whole part.

I was a drunk teenager once, and that combination goes together about as well as gasoline and a Zippo lighter.

That's the depressing side of being an only child; when your parents die, and you inevitably become an orphan, you own the title in every sense of the word. Meaning now you've got no one to clean up the remnants of a life you no longer share with anyone.

He clung to his mid-century politics like plastic wrap clings to leftover Thanksgiving stuffing. Stubborn. Hard to separate. Impossible to straighten once it gets jumbled up, so you give up trying and toss it aside.

Two things people don't like to overshare about are their kids and their hometowns. The first might result in a fractured relationship or lack of trust. The second might put you out of work and shunned by people you used to call friends. The only thing folks value above their kids is their bank account, no matter how many might insist otherwise. Money talks. The threat of losing money keeps loose lips closed, for the most part.

Isn't that what every child wants even well into adulthood --- the opportunity to look their parents in the eye and see a glimmer of pride shining back at them?

The point being, everyone knows a celebratory redemption story, one where the person in question overcomes adversity and becomes the main character in an undeniably remarkable turnaround story. But there's nothing but ridicule for the ones who never turn things around. Like the socialite whose ex-husband was arrested on a money laundering charge and is now an outcast among her former upscale circle. Or the father who abandoned everything for his mistress and now lives an isolated existence in a run-down apartment with no mistress, ex-wife, or kids. Or the bank executive who embezzled money and lost it all only to wind up living under a forty-second street bridge with his close friend Jack Daniels. Or the beauty queen who fell victim to a botched facelift and now curses her existence behind two-inch thick, closed miniblinds. No one celebrates the fallen and discarded because no one wants to admit it could happen to them. But we're all just one misstep away from living an upside-down life while the rest of the world points out all the ways we deserve it.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." --nursery rhyme, and the first lie we learned in school

we’re all just one misstep away from living an upside-down life while the rest of the world points out all the ways we deserve it.

They say life flashes before your eyes, and it does. Just not in the way you think. The clips aren’t short highlight reels of a life already lived; they’re glimpses of all the things that will never, ever happen. Just beyond the fingertips. Barely out of reach, but suddenly miles and miles away.

A nice gesture, but in my experience, nice gestures are often made for appearance’s sake more than anything.

When you lived life by yourself, worry was often your steadiest companion.

Sally suddenly knew how much she loved her father and their tiny life together, even if everyone else hated them. Her papa was a constant, a touchstone to normalcy. She had a father, after all. Not every child does. He was hers, and she was his, the only father she’d known for fifteen years. The one she wanted for the next fifteen…twenty…fifty years if she had anything to say about it.

It’s bittersweet the moment you’re faced with saying goodbye to a life you thought you hated once you realize you never hated it at all.

She was so relieved that she sat on the toilet and cried through a private panic attack, deciding from then on to never have sex again. Too much extra emotion came with it—anxiety, fear, rejection. Not to mention intense loneliness from pining for the boy who deserted her. For the loss of her old self. She missed her innocence and wanted some of it back.

Paul really did take care of her. It was nice to have someone on her side. Someone who didn’t think she was dirty. Someone determined not to let her stay that way.

A young man in an old man’s body, everything broken down but his biceps, but what good are strong biceps when your heart barely beats? It’s the question all the brokenhearted ask themselves, me most of all.