October 22, 2008
-
To be or not to be..
Alright, I’ll stfu and cut the crap.
So anyway, the past few days have been killer for me, in terms of sleep depravity. And literally yesterday night, I didn’t sleep, at all. No matter how bad that sounds, I was studying for math for the most part. Yet that isn’t the important part, besides the minor frustration of failing despite all the study. Thing is, when I’m sleep deprived, I am either in one of two possible moods. One, I’m either super hyper and not tired at all. Or two, I’m tired, but since I’m walking around I’m not quite falling asleep. When the latter occurs, I become either bitter, or just more serious and less lackadaisical. What ends up happening is then I get all philosophical, or you could just say, plain thoughtful.
I actually thought about quite a few different, yet interesting topics that people could relate to in their everyday lives. Though there must be more than what I’m about to record, there are indeed one that sticks out worthy of remembering. While I was walking around today, I began to observe people (or every other day as well, for I seem habitually do this). I’ve always liked to observe people. I guess at a first impression you might consider it rude or awkward as you’re reading this. The way I see it, if no one really notices, and I’m not really staring at them down, it’s perfectly fine to just glance at people. I guess my only problem is every single person that is within my position of vision, I would literally glance at a couple of times, or even once is just fine. Apparently I’ve “mastered” the art of absorbing a lot of information from just a single glance. Anyway, the important aspect of this habitual action isn’t the simple observation of people, but what I get from doing it. It’s always been a curiosity of mine to wonder exactly who everyone is. It doesn’t matter that they’re probably someone I’ll never meet, or even never see again in my life. It’s just, behind every single face there’s a story. Everyone has their own lives, their problems, their drama. And furthermore, everyone’s unique in terms of the mixture of what makes them who they are. Pretty much the pure curiosity is enough to entertain me. There’s isn’t just simply one large story that defines a person too. Every small detail of every single person has a story behind it. So when I glance at someone, and notice their hairstyle, their jewelry such as earrings or rings per say, their shoes and dress. Everything has a little story behind it, a reason as to why a person is a certain way in certain aspects. Even people’s personality, how they walk, and how they hold stuff can really describe and define who someone really is. A lot of times, I feel like I can imagine a story for them, just by looking at them, and create details that fit every facet of their character.
When it comes down to activities that those people who I see are committing themselves to would also incite more whimsical thoughts. I would consider what they’re doing and then wonder why they’re doing what they’re doing. Who they’re really doing it for. Perhaps studying isn’t for themselves but for their parents? Maybe they attend a seminar but have no interest in it at all, but are purely attending because their friends are going. And why are those friends going? There’s just too many things to think about. But the thing is, small things make everyone unique. They all have their own story and that’s what make them who they are, and who they are alone. There are no two stories that are the same. It’s the pure notion that everyone has their own unique story that makes everyone so special. But even more complicated is how people’s stories are always filled with intersections when they meet people and their stories intersect here and there in their life stories. Everyone has bits and pieces of their stories that are shared among other’s stories as well, and that’s when their stories intersect. After it comes down to this I realize that I don’t want our stories to intersect. I want them to connect. I want to make our own story. And then it hits me hard. I’m not supposed to be a kid anymore.
Comments (1)
your font is so fucking hard to read
and yeah, sometimes i see someone in a suit with a briefcase looking all important and i wonder hmm… whats his story? does he have a happy wife and kids and a big penis? yeah whatever. i’ll just write my own story and let people like you read it with a glance.