Last night Andy and I went to a trendy downtown neighborhood for dinner, and as we paid for parking, we were approached by a middle-aged man with a wiry gray beard and patchwork coat. His brown skin was creased with hardship, but his voice was clear and strong, his eyes bright in the light of the setting sun. He explained that he didn’t want to disturb us, but he was offering an alternative newspaper — free, with a suggested donation of $1. The paper was written to benefit the homeless, who earned income by purchasing copies and then distributing them.

This man wasn’t just selling, though. ”I write, too,” he said, his voice ringing with pride. “Got an article comin’ out in the next issue.”

“Congratulations,” I said warmly, with a big smile. As a writer, I know what publication means. The excitement, the validation.

Wanting to support him, I donated a dollar for a copy of the paper. (In retrospect, I wish I had given him more.) Then Andy and I continued to the restaurant where we were meeting our friends. After small talk, drinks, and gourmet tacos, the conversation turned to work stuff that didn’t really interest me. So I slipped the newspaper out of my purse and flipped through its pages.

The articles were mostly local, with a uniquely urban angle. Stories included a defense of dumpster diving, support for a local inn that serves as low-income housing for women, and the gentrification of the very neighborhood where we were currently dining.

A letter from the editor explained more about the newspaper’s mission. The goal is not just to help the homeless, but to empower them. Give them meaningful work, and a voice. There are many rules these distributors have to follow — no begging, no drinking or drug use, no belligerence. The list of guidelines takes up an entire half-page of the paper. To some that might seem like a lot to ask, but as I thought more about this operation, it seemed to me that you could not put a price on what was being offered in exchange.

Dignity.

I’ve had a bunch of notes in my Drafts folder for months now, snippets that I keep intending to turn into full posts. But at this point I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. So here are three “mini-posts,” somewhat related, somewhat not.

…

Writers often hear the advice, “Kill your darlings.” Typically that means delete the bits of writing that you love the most, because odds are, they are self-indulgent. Beauty is not reason enough if the words don’t add to your story.

For me, the biggest darling is the internet, and killing the internet leads to an exponential increase in productivity. I always forget that, until I hit rock bottom and have to find a way to pull myself up out of it again.

…

It’s “easier” for me to write at night, because there are fewer distractions even when I’m looking for them, and because by that point I’m so mad at myself for wasting the day that I finally buckle down. But I need to learn how to work under more normal and more positive conditions.

…

“Every girl wants a bad boy that will be good just for her. Every guy wants a good girl who will be bad just for him.”

(Or as Usher and Ludacris so eloquently put it, “We want a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.”)

I’ve seen variations of that quote all over. Twitter, Facebook, emails, songs. And I see versions of it over and over in romances. Everyone wants to be special, to be the exception. In Twilight, Bella’s mind is the only one Edward can’t read. In Knocked Up, Seth Rogan gets the girl, even though he’s a gross schlub. Even in the classics. Plain Jane (Eyre, that is) manages to captivate Rochester, and in turn she sees past his grouchy demeanor.

I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not. On the one hand, it sort of reflects reality, in a way. None of us are perfect, but we could seem perfect in a certain someone’s eyes. Through love, ordinary people become extraordinary.

But on the other hand, as Justin Long tells Ginnifer Goodwin in He’s Just Not That Into You, we can’t count on being the exception.

Me and Riley wishing everyone a very happy Valentine’s Day! Don’t get caught up in the couple-y stuff. Just spread love. After all, it’s the most wonderful and powerful force there is. :)

A few nights ago, I was out to dinner with a friend who is going through a hard time, and he said something very simple but wise:

“No matter how much I want to, I can’t fast forward through this.”

We all have things we want to fast forward through. The slog of climbing the corporate ladder. The search for Mr./Mrs. Right. The pain of a breakup. The grief of mourning. Whatever they might be, we can’t hurry up and skip the hard parts of life. And I think knowing that makes them more bearable, in a way. There’s a sort of freedom and relief in acceptance. We can’t fast forward, but we’ll still get to the other side, or wherever we’re going, one day at a time.