the most productive thing i did while at school today:
She had a tendency to drift off into another world. It would happen at appropriate times, during long drives or classes, but substantially more often during inappropriate times. She would be in sitting across from a random enchanted person in a restaurant and she would just… vanish, her eyes would become glued to an unidentifiable object somewhere in the distance and she would go unthinkable amounts of time without blinking. This practice would usually be hated by her companions, but a few, more valuable ones, would come to know and appreciate it; understanding that there were very important things going on inside her mind and they would be hesitant to interrupt whatever it may be. Often, following one of these lapses, she would begin speaking in a hushed voice, careful not to let anyone else in on her secret, and she would reveal some profound realization, or some carefully worded observation, that sometimes seemed to encompass the answers to everything I had ever seriously contemplated. I, of course, would nod, or sigh, or on a few occasions excuse myself to the restroom for fear that she would discover the tears welling in my eyes. I always tried so hard to make her believe that I wasn’t completely powerless against her.
Months after she left I was still finding bits of paper and napkins, and even the blank pages at the beginning of my books, covered in her furious scribbling. I was often very impressed by her methods and determination; more than once I have found complete essays written in various shades of her eye makeup. So as I was not surprised to find a slip of paper in the pocket of my coat that she always loved to wear. I was in this terrible diner, sitting alone, reluctantly sipping this beverage that hardly resembled coffee in either taste or color. And I began deciphering her brief moment of clarity.
-I’m sure a world exists where all tangible, material objects cease to exist. Where souls are not encased in bodies…and all things unseen, known and felt, become real objects evident to touch…there are garments of both glory and humility and love will be different for everyone, for me, I’d like it to be the weed that is always mistaken for a flower. Here, we can use the flames of courage to torch the splintered gates of fear-
There was more but the pencil had faded and I wouldn’t have wanted to read it anyway. I was steaming at this point. I was so offended that anyone could ever think something like that would work, and not only think, but also write. I pulled a notebook out of my bag and began a response.
-It is so necessary for things to be the way they are, feelings and thoughts and spirits have to be unseen. If they were real, they would just become another material, another thing for us to deface and scrape of all value. They would become one more thing for us to hoard and steal and envy. The rich would collect them and mount them and frame them and the poor would never be able to obtain them. Imagine, people never getting to experience love, or even worse, pain. All of these precious commodities would eventually decompose, rust, and fade…. until none of them were left.
This way, emotion and thought are evenly dispersed and accessible. They cannot be obtained by money and they see no differentiation in social status. I honestly think these things are the only elements to life that are always in accordance to the situation, and always in their right place. These unseen things are just and fair, and so importantly, abundant only where they are deserved-
I stopped writing here. I was no longer angry or trying to make a point to someone who wasn’t even there to defend hers. I suddenly realized so much. Here I was, sitting in this terrible diner, an ordinary man, with ordinary clothes and old shoes, and I felt like I possessed the most precious information, I had a such a secret. But that was ridiculous, because everyone, every person in this building, and outside of this building have the same secret. My wealth was unseen. I had endless treasures of love and joy and pain and envy and humiliation and glory and defeat and anger and satisfaction and ideas! I had never been so intrigued with my own ability to think for myself or even just see the world in my own way, a way that is unique to only me. I knew then, that her reasoning behind her rambling was to provoke thoughts that would lead to my new realization. And I wasn’t angry, my argument was not proud. Though I knew she had won, and made the greater point in the end, I couldn’t help but feel a very deep and sincere gratitude for her simple little mind.
Months after she left I was still finding bits of paper and napkins, and even the blank pages at the beginning of my books, covered in her furious scribbling. I was often very impressed by her methods and determination; more than once I have found complete essays written in various shades of her eye makeup. So as I was not surprised to find a slip of paper in the pocket of my coat that she always loved to wear. I was in this terrible diner, sitting alone, reluctantly sipping this beverage that hardly resembled coffee in either taste or color. And I began deciphering her brief moment of clarity.
-I’m sure a world exists where all tangible, material objects cease to exist. Where souls are not encased in bodies…and all things unseen, known and felt, become real objects evident to touch…there are garments of both glory and humility and love will be different for everyone, for me, I’d like it to be the weed that is always mistaken for a flower. Here, we can use the flames of courage to torch the splintered gates of fear-
There was more but the pencil had faded and I wouldn’t have wanted to read it anyway. I was steaming at this point. I was so offended that anyone could ever think something like that would work, and not only think, but also write. I pulled a notebook out of my bag and began a response.
-It is so necessary for things to be the way they are, feelings and thoughts and spirits have to be unseen. If they were real, they would just become another material, another thing for us to deface and scrape of all value. They would become one more thing for us to hoard and steal and envy. The rich would collect them and mount them and frame them and the poor would never be able to obtain them. Imagine, people never getting to experience love, or even worse, pain. All of these precious commodities would eventually decompose, rust, and fade…. until none of them were left.
This way, emotion and thought are evenly dispersed and accessible. They cannot be obtained by money and they see no differentiation in social status. I honestly think these things are the only elements to life that are always in accordance to the situation, and always in their right place. These unseen things are just and fair, and so importantly, abundant only where they are deserved-
I stopped writing here. I was no longer angry or trying to make a point to someone who wasn’t even there to defend hers. I suddenly realized so much. Here I was, sitting in this terrible diner, an ordinary man, with ordinary clothes and old shoes, and I felt like I possessed the most precious information, I had a such a secret. But that was ridiculous, because everyone, every person in this building, and outside of this building have the same secret. My wealth was unseen. I had endless treasures of love and joy and pain and envy and humiliation and glory and defeat and anger and satisfaction and ideas! I had never been so intrigued with my own ability to think for myself or even just see the world in my own way, a way that is unique to only me. I knew then, that her reasoning behind her rambling was to provoke thoughts that would lead to my new realization. And I wasn’t angry, my argument was not proud. Though I knew she had won, and made the greater point in the end, I couldn’t help but feel a very deep and sincere gratitude for her simple little mind.