another kind of me

Think of them as thoughtlets.
(but what are they really?)

For the week of november 2, 1997

wednesday, november 5, 1997, 04:30

Sights seen. Walking around today, the beautiful autumn day, coolish breeze, not too much wind, not too much sun. Almost enough to make myself forget that i'm not wandering around blindly in the world.
Sights seen.
Walking across the green. The sky, filled with dark gray thunder clouds. Shafts of light breaking through from the sun, sitting low in the sky. Peering between two of the buildings. off in the distance, one of the science buildings, not really what i would ever categorize as "pretty" per se. but, with the sunlight bouncing off of it, the only bright thing in the horizon, standing out in front of the sky, pretty spectacular.
Someone said it reminded him of A Wrinkle in Time. I haven't read that in so long. Don't really remember much of it. Big throbbing brain. That's about it. Right, the declaration of independence vs. multiplication tables. chaos vs. order. or at least a little bit less order.
I'm not tired right now. i just can't possibly express what i'm feeling. What i felt today. The sights that i saw. So clean. So pure. Realizing that there's really nothing in life that's worth worrying about. Or worrying too much about.
Oh, right, and wishing that i had a camera.
Sights seen. A darkened evening. The green, lit up by the white glow of the street lights. A darkened building except for a single, long room. A single figure walks through the dance studio. Turns, takes a few leaps. Stands and thinks. Begins to dance. In a world of her own.
I wonder what people are thinking. As they go through their days. Not when they're sitting in class. Not while they're trying to make those life changing decisions, like whether to take a class pass/fail or for a grade. I just wonder what the people i pass on the street are thinkiing. Where they're coming from. Where they're going. What they think when they pass me. I notice them. Do they notice me? Do they notice me noticing them? And what about those people that i don't notice. Do they notice me?
Even sitting in the same room as someone. I often wonder what's going on in their head.
I suppose that most of the time, it's better not to know.