Random Thoughts

It's odd how old someone can be and still wonder about who they are exactly. I was trying to figure out "what kind of a person" I am today, as I skipped lunch and sat outside by myself smoking a cigarette. It sounds hilarious; sounds as if I was feeling sorry for myself, sulking in the corner, trying to be noticed. I wasn't. It's thoughts like "what kind of a person am I" that seem so deep at the time and easily deduced; but you end up, sooner or later, realizing that these thoughts don't really matter and have no obvious answer anyway. After this is realized, you find the past thoughts first hilarious (that you took them so seriously at the time) and then rather disheartening and sobering, for an unexplained reason. It's quite odd really.

Anyway, how it all started was I was thinking about how much I loved being outside, just sitting there by myself. I thought about how most people would hate to be by themselves like that--most would find it almost depressing. I understand this thought process, but I don't agree with it. I love those times outside by myself. However, I do not like being by myself at my house. In fact, I will do almost anything to keep from staying at my house by myself (including driving somewhere or going out to eat or to a movie by myself). When it boils down to it, I think I like being around people, but not feeling as though I have to talk to them. Sometimes, I don't want to talk. Sometimes I just want to be a part of a moment and take a snapshot for later-- have something to hold onto. I don't want to forget anything, but just soak it all in. And other times, I want to be in a car full of friends having ugly face competitions and smashing Oreo's in my teeth while driving around town smiling creepily at people. I wonder if that makes me odd.

"There are so many separate selves; no one who writes creatively hasn't felt that." - Jeanette Winterson

Just in Time for Halloween

So I noticed something odd last night. I was pulling onto a friend’s street when my radio’s volume suddenly turned up. At the time, I noted that it was slightly odd, but figured that I may have bumped the volume knob while I was turning the car. I put the incident out of my mind.

Today, I was pulling into the parking garage at work, listening to instrumental music on the radio. I noticed it again. The music got extremely loud very quickly; I looked at the radio as I reached towards the knob to turn it down. The screen on the radio said that the volume was actually changing. It looked as if someone was turning the knob back and forth very quickly. I grabbed the knob, turned it down and then just sort of stared at it.

It scared me. It may have been a short somewhere in the system (as if that would be the first time that has occurred in my car), but it scared me just the same. It’s notable when strange things happen; but if you see them happening, it’s even more odd. Needless to say, I think my car is haunted...

CAUTION!!!

I have never been someone who cooks. My version of cooking for myself is a package of Ramen-- I like to eat fast and be on my way with as little dishes as possible, since I live by myself in Highland. However, yesterday I had the GRAND idea to cook fettucini alfredo for myself. I put on a record and wore clothes that I could imagine wearing as some adorable 1950's housewife. I stirred the alfredo with such delicacy and meticulousness. It was a wonderful meal-- I didn't know I could cook so well! However, upon putting the noodle box back into the pantry, I had the grand idea to look inside the box. I don't know what my thought process was in doing this, but I wish I hadn't looked in it. What I found there was.... a live roach. Oh, yes. I had just made myself some tasty roach alfredo. This is why cooking when one lives in Highland is a horrible idea.

Fall!

Let me tell you a bit about today. I work downtown in the Regions building, and every day on my lunch break, I go out to my car and take a nap or do homework in my office. Today was slightly different though. I wanted to go outside instead of being confined to my small car. I walked out to the front of my building on Texas Street and sat down on a bench. I wasn't sweating. I wasn't freezing. I wasn't stressed. I wasn't tired. I just was. There was a slight breeze and the sky looked particularly blue. I looked up, noticing the architecture in the building-- from the angle I was looking from, the building reminded me of Jacob's ladder. But something caught my eye-- it was one lone leaf floating down from several stories up the building. I watched it float and tumble all the way down until it finally rested on the pavement. It was the first "fall" thing I've noticed this season; and I must say, it was appreciated and welcome.