Warning: Potentially Emo Journal Entry Ahead
(Aside: Or as emo as I get, anyway.)
(Second Aside: What, does "emo" mean, anyway?)
I had a sort of ephiphany this week. A minor revelation, if you will. I was walking along with a friend of mine, enjoying this wonderous fall weather the District is experiencing this week. Of course, those who know me well, will infer that by "walking along" I mean "rushing forward at a breakneck pace", which is to say I tend to walk fast.
"Slow down, "The lovely young lady walking beside me, struggling to keep up, exclaims.
"Sorry, I tend to walk fast", I replied, redundently.
"I'm going to show you how to stop and smell the roses," was the poetic reponse. It was enough to warn even my notoriously unsentimental heart. "You have someplace you need to be?" she continued.
"No. I'm just trying to look like I do", I off-handly said.
But then it occured to me, was I really kidding when I said this? Or did it contain more than a kernal of truth? Suddenly, there I was, flashing back to Leslie Middle School, circa 1993, and the beginning of what I have come to refer to as "The Solitary Years". Rushing from the cafeteria, swollowing my cardboard crusted pizza in massive gulps, then tracing a circuitious route around the schoolyard for the next 30 minutes. The faster I walked, I surmised, the more it would look like I had someplace to go.
Flash forward to the Year of our Lord Two-Thousand and Six, and me, standing on a street corner next to a beautiful woman, and wondering if the past decade of my pedestrian life has been based on my inability to make any friends in Middle School? The evidence is staggering. At my currently workplace, I am blessed with an hour long lunch period for the first time in my life (minus collegiate years). During this period of time, completely on my own, I have NO IDEA what to do with myself. I still gulp down my food, and then usually (You're About to Find Out I'm A Complete Nerd, AS IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW, Alert) speed six blocks to the nearest Borders to still time in their graphic novel section. Shit, I must have gone through 1,000 bucks of inventory at this point, but I digress.
So, now, I've spent the past two days enjoying a new level of self-consciousness. The healthy kid, I think. I'm catching myself walking insanely fast for no apparent reason, with no place to be, and I'm actively reminding myself to SLOW. THE. FUCK. DOWN.
Moral of the story, funny how our formative years never really do leave us be, do they? I am under the constant influence of a pimply-faced, wholely sincere, (even more) socially awkward version of myself, that, on a cellular level, no longer exists.
Fin.
(Aside: Or as emo as I get, anyway.)
(Second Aside: What, does "emo" mean, anyway?)
I had a sort of ephiphany this week. A minor revelation, if you will. I was walking along with a friend of mine, enjoying this wonderous fall weather the District is experiencing this week. Of course, those who know me well, will infer that by "walking along" I mean "rushing forward at a breakneck pace", which is to say I tend to walk fast.
"Slow down, "The lovely young lady walking beside me, struggling to keep up, exclaims.
"Sorry, I tend to walk fast", I replied, redundently.
"I'm going to show you how to stop and smell the roses," was the poetic reponse. It was enough to warn even my notoriously unsentimental heart. "You have someplace you need to be?" she continued.
"No. I'm just trying to look like I do", I off-handly said.
But then it occured to me, was I really kidding when I said this? Or did it contain more than a kernal of truth? Suddenly, there I was, flashing back to Leslie Middle School, circa 1993, and the beginning of what I have come to refer to as "The Solitary Years". Rushing from the cafeteria, swollowing my cardboard crusted pizza in massive gulps, then tracing a circuitious route around the schoolyard for the next 30 minutes. The faster I walked, I surmised, the more it would look like I had someplace to go.
Flash forward to the Year of our Lord Two-Thousand and Six, and me, standing on a street corner next to a beautiful woman, and wondering if the past decade of my pedestrian life has been based on my inability to make any friends in Middle School? The evidence is staggering. At my currently workplace, I am blessed with an hour long lunch period for the first time in my life (minus collegiate years). During this period of time, completely on my own, I have NO IDEA what to do with myself. I still gulp down my food, and then usually (You're About to Find Out I'm A Complete Nerd, AS IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW, Alert) speed six blocks to the nearest Borders to still time in their graphic novel section. Shit, I must have gone through 1,000 bucks of inventory at this point, but I digress.
So, now, I've spent the past two days enjoying a new level of self-consciousness. The healthy kid, I think. I'm catching myself walking insanely fast for no apparent reason, with no place to be, and I'm actively reminding myself to SLOW. THE. FUCK. DOWN.
Moral of the story, funny how our formative years never really do leave us be, do they? I am under the constant influence of a pimply-faced, wholely sincere, (even more) socially awkward version of myself, that, on a cellular level, no longer exists.
Fin.
VIEW 27 of 27 COMMENTS
octological:
Your college-days me? I should get her to cook dinner for me!
aliana:
yeah i know! im really bummed that i missed it! too far of a drive this time..cause i couldnt get off of work thursday...and i diddnt have any money. oh well...next time