(no subject)
Yesterday I was poised to write another of my wonderfully long and thoughtless passages about the many wonders of seeing minions of first year students parading around univeristy. Yet the events of yesterday afternoon led me to a new revalation, and some troubling insights.
I had but one class yesterday, Austrlian Modern Art and Cinema. I figure that since I'm graduating with a Bachelor of Art History from University of Sydney, that I should at least pretend to know something about Australian Art. Just as I was waiting to go into the rather overfilled class, who should be standing there but..... wait for it...... Louise.
That is right, Louise is back in Uni, finishing her degree. Much the same as me, really. When I saw her, I was completely speechless, and much of my speech since then has amounted to very little. Not only is being an undergraduate a blast from the past, but to be an undergraduate with the person that led me to do Art in the first place is simply drenching.
Being my naturally shallow self, the first thing I noticed was how fabulous she looked. She was just as I first met her, and though I know in later years she did put on some weight, it all seems to be gone now. Her hair is a short and curly, with an orange die. She was wearing a bright vermillion/acqua top, and a three quarter length fanning skirt, with the most delightful set of black sandles. The contrast of her orange hair and her blueish top really accentuated her eyes, and all in all, she was probably quite as sparkling as I'd ever known her to be. Her eyes are still the wells of intrigue that I remember, and when she laughs, her whole face beams from those eyes.
The meeting was uncomfortable for us both. We sat together in class, and it was a strange reminder of another time in our lives. Yet I am being too kind to the situation in believing that she was goign through the same emotions I was. I fact, I am close to certain that she thought very little of the whole affair. For the last three years, I have constantly thought about young Louise, and it is crushing to realise that I have not even figured in any of her fleeting thoughts. She bearly realises how much of her personality I've absorbed into my own, or how much she has shaped the course of my life.
Idle thoughts, at the end of the day.
Our conversations started terribly, with me trying to fill in blanks in the conversation with my endless chatter. I don't often feel the vacousness of my conversation with people, but I did then. However, during the break, we went out for some coffee, and things did seem to improve. In fact, it wasn't a brilliant conversation, but it was getting back to our old selves. Keep in mind that this is the one person that I cannot remember having a BAD conversation with. Out of the people I've let into my life, she is perhaps the one that I let in the least, yet she seems to be the one that knows me best of all regardless of that. Or maybe that is just me naively wishing it to be so.
I'm unsure as to what all this means. It certainly is a strange co-incidence to meet each other again. She told me that she had wondered wether we would bump into each other. I wish that to be true rather than believe it. So I shall run on the theory that are meeting is totally arbritary, and now I have to realise how to interpret this (at least for the next 13 weeks).
I have thought about dropping the subject. It isnt' the most exciting class that I've ever taken, and I could probably find something even better in its place. Then again, there is a part of me that wonders how things might be being her friend again. Perhaps it would form a great closure to a relationship that I was too busy being selfish in to realise that it was a good one. Or it might be a painfull reminder of a life that might have been. Reality will sink in, and I guess that all that will happen is that we will tolerate each other, share some notes, maybe have a cofee now and then, and once more loose track of each other. After all, we can both chose to remember the other as we wish, if we never see each other. She can go back to finding me a regret, and I can go back to my mindless idoliatory fantasies. Both quests would be made easier by the total denial of the reality of the situation, made boundlessly more efficient if we are not in contact.
Life has a curious way of making perfect loops. In many ways, I've been the way I am right now so many times. Starting a new crop of undergraduate subjects. Being motivated to get all my work done. Meeting friends I have neglected for weeks, months, years. Writing in this diary, and coming up with many new ideas on my comic strips. Though I kid myself that I'm trying to get out of this cycle, I never seem to. For me, someone that crusades my individuality and sponteneaty, I'm rather dull and lifeless.
I am now more and more convinced that only travelling will re-deem me. Japan has never looked better than it does at this point in
I had but one class yesterday, Austrlian Modern Art and Cinema. I figure that since I'm graduating with a Bachelor of Art History from University of Sydney, that I should at least pretend to know something about Australian Art. Just as I was waiting to go into the rather overfilled class, who should be standing there but..... wait for it...... Louise.
That is right, Louise is back in Uni, finishing her degree. Much the same as me, really. When I saw her, I was completely speechless, and much of my speech since then has amounted to very little. Not only is being an undergraduate a blast from the past, but to be an undergraduate with the person that led me to do Art in the first place is simply drenching.
Being my naturally shallow self, the first thing I noticed was how fabulous she looked. She was just as I first met her, and though I know in later years she did put on some weight, it all seems to be gone now. Her hair is a short and curly, with an orange die. She was wearing a bright vermillion/acqua top, and a three quarter length fanning skirt, with the most delightful set of black sandles. The contrast of her orange hair and her blueish top really accentuated her eyes, and all in all, she was probably quite as sparkling as I'd ever known her to be. Her eyes are still the wells of intrigue that I remember, and when she laughs, her whole face beams from those eyes.
The meeting was uncomfortable for us both. We sat together in class, and it was a strange reminder of another time in our lives. Yet I am being too kind to the situation in believing that she was goign through the same emotions I was. I fact, I am close to certain that she thought very little of the whole affair. For the last three years, I have constantly thought about young Louise, and it is crushing to realise that I have not even figured in any of her fleeting thoughts. She bearly realises how much of her personality I've absorbed into my own, or how much she has shaped the course of my life.
Idle thoughts, at the end of the day.
Our conversations started terribly, with me trying to fill in blanks in the conversation with my endless chatter. I don't often feel the vacousness of my conversation with people, but I did then. However, during the break, we went out for some coffee, and things did seem to improve. In fact, it wasn't a brilliant conversation, but it was getting back to our old selves. Keep in mind that this is the one person that I cannot remember having a BAD conversation with. Out of the people I've let into my life, she is perhaps the one that I let in the least, yet she seems to be the one that knows me best of all regardless of that. Or maybe that is just me naively wishing it to be so.
I'm unsure as to what all this means. It certainly is a strange co-incidence to meet each other again. She told me that she had wondered wether we would bump into each other. I wish that to be true rather than believe it. So I shall run on the theory that are meeting is totally arbritary, and now I have to realise how to interpret this (at least for the next 13 weeks).
I have thought about dropping the subject. It isnt' the most exciting class that I've ever taken, and I could probably find something even better in its place. Then again, there is a part of me that wonders how things might be being her friend again. Perhaps it would form a great closure to a relationship that I was too busy being selfish in to realise that it was a good one. Or it might be a painfull reminder of a life that might have been. Reality will sink in, and I guess that all that will happen is that we will tolerate each other, share some notes, maybe have a cofee now and then, and once more loose track of each other. After all, we can both chose to remember the other as we wish, if we never see each other. She can go back to finding me a regret, and I can go back to my mindless idoliatory fantasies. Both quests would be made easier by the total denial of the reality of the situation, made boundlessly more efficient if we are not in contact.
Life has a curious way of making perfect loops. In many ways, I've been the way I am right now so many times. Starting a new crop of undergraduate subjects. Being motivated to get all my work done. Meeting friends I have neglected for weeks, months, years. Writing in this diary, and coming up with many new ideas on my comic strips. Though I kid myself that I'm trying to get out of this cycle, I never seem to. For me, someone that crusades my individuality and sponteneaty, I'm rather dull and lifeless.
I am now more and more convinced that only travelling will re-deem me. Japan has never looked better than it does at this point in