A Quote by John Green
I pulled the oxygen tubes from my nostrils and raised the tube up over my head, handing it to Dad. I wanted it to be just me and just him.
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I wanted to walk over there. I wanted to curl up beside him, lean against him, talk to him. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. And I wanted him to tell me the same thing. I didn't care if it was true or not- I just wanted to say it. To hear it, to feel his arms around me, hear the rumble of his words, that deep chuckle that made me pulse race
I've dealt every day of my life with my dad's career, the comparisons to him, with people wanting me to live up to him. I just put that stuff out of my head, I don't even hear it after awhile - I just turn my ears off.
Me and my dad never talked racing. We just didn't. I wouldn't go up and ask him about that unless I wanted to upset him.
For instance, if you're a black guy and you got pulled over, and you didn't know that any other black men were being pulled over, you would constantly in the back of your head be thinking, "What did I do?" rather than, "I didn't do anything, these are just the conditions I live under."
My greatest influence is Jimi Hendrix, and if he's been reincarnated, or if he's looking down, sideways, or looking up, I just wanted to tell him that I love him and thank him for opening doors for me. I just wanted to make it beautiful for him.
I was raised by a single dad, so I've always just kind of liked "guys" stuff. I think my dad just took me to the things he was interested in.
I think for me, as far as cooking, some of it came naturally just from watching my dad. My dad was more of the cook than my mom was, so it's just handing it down from generation to generation. I just love to cook and have fun. And as performers, we love to cook, and we love to entertain people.
I was raised in farm and ranch communities, and my dad wanted me to be a cowboy like him, but I saw how he struggled in life and wanted more than that.
My dad helped me understand songwriting because of him playing Babyface a lot. I don't even know if my dad realized that him just being him, him just living his life, loving what he loved, poured more into me than anybody ever would know.
My dad traveled so much for work that, when he was home, we always wanted to spend as much time with him as we could, so going to practices and doing stuff like that with him took precedence over Saturday morning cartoons. We'd go to practice with my dad just so we could be a part of it.
I remember, after my first postpartum depression, I didn't know what had happened to me. I was stuck in this gray depression where I just wanted to retreat and pull the covers over my head and weep. My mother and I, we went to a psychiatrist, and he just patted me on the head and told me I had baby blues, which was not helpful, obviously.
I will embarrass my kids to their core. I will threaten to show up in hot pants and a tube top. Their dad will drive me. And he'll let me and my friend Lisa get pretty drunk in the backseat, and we will come into that party and just rip it up.
I saw a man walk into my camera viewfinder from the left. He took a pistol out of his holster and raised it. I had no idea he would shoot. It was common to hold a pistol to the head of prisoners during questioning. So I prepared to make that picture - the threat, the interrogation. But it didn't happen. The man just pulled a pistol out of his holster, raised it to the VC's head and shot him in the temple. I made a picture at the same time. (On his 1968 photograph of the summary street corner execution of prisoner Nguyen Van Lem by South Vietnam's police chief, Lt. Col. Nguyen Ngoc Loan.)
There was a time when we were in a van and handing out the CDs at Warped Tour. We had a two-song EP that we were just handing out for free just to promote ourselves. That was on the 'Waking the Fallen' record, and we were just going around and handing out the CDs and stuff like that.
I told him what my dad had said. That got him laughing and as we pulled into the school parking lot, even the sight of Rafe waiting for me only made him roll his eyes. We got out. I glanced at Daniel. He sighed. "Go on." "You sound like you're giving a five-year-old permission to play with an unsuitable friend." "If the shoe fits..." I flipped him off. "Watch it or I won't marry you," he said. "Truck of no truck." I laughed and jogged over to Rafe. "Did he just say...?" Rafe began.
And then we were kissing. My hand let go of the oxygen cart and I reached up for his neck, and he pulled me up by my waist onto my tiptoes. As his parted lips met mine, I started to feel breathless in a new and fascinating way. The space around us evaporated, and for a weird moment I really liked my body, this cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around suddenly seemed worth the struggle, worth the chest tubes and PICC lines and the ceaseless bodily betrayal of the tumors.
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