“ITs hard to articulate in an eloquent manner, but, WHO AM I?
The Bob Dylan music was playing and the boys were singing, knowing every syllable there is to know. The girls were going on about meaningful, or at the very least, classic, stories such as The Secret Garden and The Importance of Being Earnest. He sat there, floppy hair and all and in agreement, nodded towards me and said “The knife that is used too often becomes blunt rather than sharpened”- and in back thought, ” That’s actually a Taoist qoute.” And he doesnt mention this with pride or with glee or even with a smirk in have knowledge of this qoute- it was simply put, a matter of fact.
They request Paul Simon songs by name, and have varying opinions about which they prefered is on the playlist next. Discusson of the songs arise and they know dead on, without skipping a beat, the meaning of what Paul Simon wrote in his melodies and what Bob Dylan tried to convey in ” The answer in blowing in the wind”
She sits there, not knowing what to do or even really think. Shes empty, as she has been feeling for the past few days. Stuck in a rut of sorts. All she can do is smile and admire and aspire to be what these people were before her- sure of themselves. And besides even being aware of who they are, it is actually the content of who they are that struck up such a smile.
They’re perhaps some of the best people she’s ever met. Young and youthful but wise beyond, well , wise beyond what most 18 year olds are, and smart. Smart but hardly boastful, and witty, but never (too) mean.
They listen to good music without being pretentious and withour being snobs. They genuinely like the things they do, and thats rare for someone of this age. To enjoy something without external influence or without trying to play up to stereotype.
I, on the other hand, hardly know what my favorite flower is. This may seem small and menial to anybody else, but really, I find that important. It’s an anecdote, a small one albeit, that makes a person more endearing. My musicical tastes have been shaped by who I wanted to be, although it should be the other way around. My affections for places and things aren’t concrete, and I think of myself, if I were to be some sort of geometric shape, as all of these lines going here and there and everywhere. No middle to make them coherent.
What do I know. I did charity because it was a fun adventure and because I cared- but I’ve dropped it. I was known as the political science geek, and I found indentity in that, but that was easy to do in a grade of 42 as opposed to a grade of 3000.
Contempary political issues were my fortae, but now I hardly get exposure to the news. Everybody here know more than me, IS more than me.
What Im motivated by is adventure and taking chances and having a story- not to have a life where I wake up one day and realize thats its been a waste. I know that a 9 to 5 job isnt for me, but what if I fall victim to it. When I was sitting there tonight in that room with those people I just didn’t understand before how cool they are. I knew that they were English and witty, but I didnt know how………….for lack of better word, amazing they are.
I wish I knew the smaller things about myself. I know that I love things that are old and in the past. I love the idealism of the 50’s and romanticism captured in a Frank Sinatra song. I know that I’m hardly wishy washy. But I cant help but think that I confrom to other people. I’m never ever really myself.
Its 1 39 a.m. Im sleepy.”