September 13, 2013
I was once told, challenged, that I don't have moxie. That I'm not ambitious and eager enough to go approach a stranger and ask him exactly what my curiosity states at the moment. I resented this notion. I refused it, and since it was my flask-carrying days, I did have plenty of liquid courage to go around and inquire like the secret-life journalist that I wanted to be. But with a lifted veil, I accept that insinuation was correct. I'm either not interested enough, or assume they'll think I'm a creep. It's not shyness, I assure you. Still.