10:53 a.m. | 2005-12-09
See You Later See You Soon
That blur is my dashboard. In front of it a very un-crowded college avenue. A tree or two in the median and oncoming cars.
I love being comfortable in my surroundings. I love knowing what's going on, where I'm going, and what I'm doing next. I hate, though, when that comfort turns into something mundane. I will eat the same breakfast for 6 days in a row and on the 7th be disgusted by it and switch over to something completely separate and new.
I know the colors of these walls. I know the intricacies of how people say hello. I know where I sit and I know what I'll have for lunch and I know everything about this season. Everything. It did snow, after all. The ground was covered in this slightly uncharacteristic light snow which refused to melt. It's melting now. We're back to normal again.
I've been staring a lot recently. Realizing that the only thing I have yet to conquer in this town is more people. So I've started to investigate them again. In Boston you could go a day without seeing a face you knew, but here I see one at least every few minutes. So I've started to ignore those I'm familiar with and check out everything that walks by. I sit in soft chairs and watch people walk by (if you don�t move it's rare that they even note your presence).
I start to think about who would love them, who would want them, what sort of chances they have in life. I come to a lot of conclusions on my own that I suck up and believe as truth. Sort of how I did when I was little and would guess who people were as we drove past. I'd give them their own personal fantasies and as I grew older I'd fall in love with those who I labeled as sweet and caring but often abused. The guy with the newer car who obviously was trying so hard to be happy but even with all his best efforts couldn't make it happen.
I feel another change coming on.