my shirt

So my nice button down, collard shirt was really wrinkly in the sleeves. I decided to throw it in the dryer with a couple dryer sheets shoved down into the sleeve area. Not such a good idea. I pulled my shirt out after about 15 minutes and realized that the middle two buttons on my shirt had actually "melted" off. Yeah, MELTED OFF!!!! I didn't know that could happen to a button. But sure enough. They are gone. I decided to wear the shirt anyway. Its funny, because when I stand up you can't really tell... but when I am sitting, its very obvious that my shirt is not buttoned, ...but just in the middle. The top two buttons are there, and the bottom two are there as well. So when I sit, I just reveal the white undershirt around my mid-section area. Its kinda funny to see. Its even funnier to try to explain to people.

The Deeper Meaning: There always seems to be deeper meanings in simple, idiotic occurrences such as this in life. As I reflected on the openness of my shirt....as I pondered how my undershirt has been revealed by two melted off buttons, I realized just how ok I was with all of this. I am ok with people seeing my undershirt. I am ok with people realizing that I am missing two strategic buttons. This sort of thing used to bother me. But lately, I am getting more and more comfortable with people seeing the insides of me....the weaker sides of me. I am ok revealing what is beyond and behind the nice button down shirt. Its ok if they see my t-shirt underneath.

This is apparent in other areas of my life as well. My screen saver is not just fake stars flying by me at the speed of light. No, now its a rotation of pictures. Some are good pictures and some are idiotic. Some are of me that look nice. Some are of me looking ridiculous. Some are of my friends and others are of my family. My goofy looking family. And so when I am reading at Common Grounds or listening in class, and my screen saver kicks in, those sitting near me can see my pictures. They can see pictures I would normally reserve just for the eyes of my friends. Strangers become witness to my underbelly. And likewise, this is occurring in my blog posts. I don't know who is reading anymore. I used to know. I used to know who had my blog address. But the word has spread and now strangers, beautiful strangers are crawling around with me inside my head. And there, in all its glory, is the reality of my melted buttons and my plain white undershirt.