rambling potatoes
What is individuality? I asked myself this the other day when I looked at the trees in my backyard. I saw what looked like one blossom that was a bright pink while the rest of the tree was a deep green. What was it about that blossom that draws my eyes towards it? Was it the fact that this blossom was different from all the others, or was it the fact that the rest of the tree was exactly the same? Is individuality based on the uniqeness of one person, or is it based on the repeating nature of the world around that person? Of course I ask this question to myself for the mere sake of argument. But I find it to be an interesting question. It may be for the fact that both sides are easily argued, but also because neither side is a clear winner… well, that may all depend on the debater.
I drove to the movie with the window down because I wanted to feel the wind on my face. I had the music loud so that I couldn’t hear myself sing along. They say the definition of insanity is simply making the same mistake over and over again. Well, if what “they” say is true, then I suppose that I may be just a little bit over the edge. Going to the movies with my ex wasn’t exactly something that I was completely looking forward to, but I had agreed because I had nothing better to do. Of course, I probably would have been able to find something to do if I tried hard enough, but nevertheless, I found myself on the road. On my way there, I thought about how I wanted to act that night. I had come to the conclusion that I wanted to play it cool. I wasn’t going to be very conversational, and was just going to sit back and be nonchalant about the whole situation. Is it weird that I wanted the evening to be awkward?
I didn’t think so either.
So I pulled into the parking lot, parked the car, and walked into the pizzeria. I sighed to myself and pushed my hands into my pockets as I leaned against a wall. It had been a while since we saw each other, and I thought about how things had ended. She had been my first real girlfriend, and my first real breakup. I wasn’t expecting the phone call that ended it, but I wasn’t really surprised either. When your girlfriend ignores you for several days after repeated attempts to contact her, I don’t think anybody found the breakup a real shocker. But I WAS surprised when she was the one who called me up several months later.
As I stood there, I started to wonder how I looked. I glanced up at a mirror that covered the entire adjacent wall. I hadn’t flattened my hair down after I got out of the car, and it had gotten all puffed up since I had my windows down in my car. I lifted my hands up, and tried to make it look like I was scratching my head as I pushed the long hairs down against my scalp. I tried to push out my chest against my t-shirt and make it look I had a regular habit of exercise. The truth is the polar opposite, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. I’m pretty skinny, but I’m not lanky. I prefer the term… thin.
A couple of minutes later, she walked into the restaurant and right up to me. We both greeted each other, and went up to the counter. I asked her the obligatory catching-up questions.
“How’s your summer going?”
“You been really busy lately?”
“Having a good time since you dumped me, bitch?”
… well maybe not the last one.
As we sat down, the conversation flowed and I cracked jokes just as I always had. I filled her on what I had done, recent frustrations in my life. The subject of college came up, but I quickly pushed it to the wayside. She already had that all taken care of, and was more than a little jealous. She was unaware of my jealousy, but there was a bunch of things that she wasn’t aware of.
Time came, and we had to walk over to the movie theater. As we made our way there, we continued our conversation about whatever it is teenagers talk about these days. But as we talked, I found my mind wandering to times when I held her hand, nervously bought her a birthday gift, and kissed her in my car. I tried to shake off these thoughts, but like anything that bothers you, it wouldn’t go away. One of my talents is that I can talk about one thing and think about something else at the same time. Granted, I may not be the most interesting conversationalist when this happens, but I can still do it. It was at this point that I realized that I wasn’t going through with the plan that I had made in my car to act nonchalant and make the evening as pleasant as possible. As I realized this, I sighted inwardly because, even though I had always known, nothing would change the way I felt about her. This alone frustrating enough in itself; that someone can hurt your feelings and you can never really be angry about it, but the fact that you can’t reason with yourself is, I find, even worse. The evening eventually drew to a close, we hugged, and went our (her merry, my melancholy) ways.
The ride home was a somber one. What is it about independence that makes independence feel like loneliness? Being single would have its perks if I ever met new people, but I find myself not really being exposed to anyone that I haven’t seen a thousand times before. Being single makes you realize that all you really want is to be around someone else. But what I’m saying has already been said by a thousand other people in a thousand other ways. The need to articulate ones feelings is a universal need, and the fact that I am is nothing special. I blend into the crowd of people who are unsatisfied with their social lives. I am no different, individuality is a pretty idea painted up by optimists with dread locks and tie-dye shirts. If there is such a thing as individuality, then how can there be universal themes and ideas? People don’t differ in substantial ways. It’s only little things that allow us to deviate one person from the next. One person may be black while another is white, but they both have skin. Is color or length or height or brains or looks or strength such a huge factor in what makes up a person at all? We all have skin, brains, muscles, bones, lips, eyes, ideas, and personalities. These things aren’t always the same, but you don’t have to look too far to find someone who looks like someone else. The idea of individuality is flawed and sickeningly positive in a world where cynicism governs and harbors our feelings and thoughts… well, then again… that may just be my point of view at the moment. Tomorrow, I may just want to frolic through a field with an oversized lollipop in my hand… whatever.
I drove to the movie with the window down because I wanted to feel the wind on my face. I had the music loud so that I couldn’t hear myself sing along. They say the definition of insanity is simply making the same mistake over and over again. Well, if what “they” say is true, then I suppose that I may be just a little bit over the edge. Going to the movies with my ex wasn’t exactly something that I was completely looking forward to, but I had agreed because I had nothing better to do. Of course, I probably would have been able to find something to do if I tried hard enough, but nevertheless, I found myself on the road. On my way there, I thought about how I wanted to act that night. I had come to the conclusion that I wanted to play it cool. I wasn’t going to be very conversational, and was just going to sit back and be nonchalant about the whole situation. Is it weird that I wanted the evening to be awkward?
I didn’t think so either.
So I pulled into the parking lot, parked the car, and walked into the pizzeria. I sighed to myself and pushed my hands into my pockets as I leaned against a wall. It had been a while since we saw each other, and I thought about how things had ended. She had been my first real girlfriend, and my first real breakup. I wasn’t expecting the phone call that ended it, but I wasn’t really surprised either. When your girlfriend ignores you for several days after repeated attempts to contact her, I don’t think anybody found the breakup a real shocker. But I WAS surprised when she was the one who called me up several months later.
As I stood there, I started to wonder how I looked. I glanced up at a mirror that covered the entire adjacent wall. I hadn’t flattened my hair down after I got out of the car, and it had gotten all puffed up since I had my windows down in my car. I lifted my hands up, and tried to make it look like I was scratching my head as I pushed the long hairs down against my scalp. I tried to push out my chest against my t-shirt and make it look I had a regular habit of exercise. The truth is the polar opposite, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. I’m pretty skinny, but I’m not lanky. I prefer the term… thin.
A couple of minutes later, she walked into the restaurant and right up to me. We both greeted each other, and went up to the counter. I asked her the obligatory catching-up questions.
“How’s your summer going?”
“You been really busy lately?”
“Having a good time since you dumped me, bitch?”
… well maybe not the last one.
As we sat down, the conversation flowed and I cracked jokes just as I always had. I filled her on what I had done, recent frustrations in my life. The subject of college came up, but I quickly pushed it to the wayside. She already had that all taken care of, and was more than a little jealous. She was unaware of my jealousy, but there was a bunch of things that she wasn’t aware of.
Time came, and we had to walk over to the movie theater. As we made our way there, we continued our conversation about whatever it is teenagers talk about these days. But as we talked, I found my mind wandering to times when I held her hand, nervously bought her a birthday gift, and kissed her in my car. I tried to shake off these thoughts, but like anything that bothers you, it wouldn’t go away. One of my talents is that I can talk about one thing and think about something else at the same time. Granted, I may not be the most interesting conversationalist when this happens, but I can still do it. It was at this point that I realized that I wasn’t going through with the plan that I had made in my car to act nonchalant and make the evening as pleasant as possible. As I realized this, I sighted inwardly because, even though I had always known, nothing would change the way I felt about her. This alone frustrating enough in itself; that someone can hurt your feelings and you can never really be angry about it, but the fact that you can’t reason with yourself is, I find, even worse. The evening eventually drew to a close, we hugged, and went our (her merry, my melancholy) ways.
The ride home was a somber one. What is it about independence that makes independence feel like loneliness? Being single would have its perks if I ever met new people, but I find myself not really being exposed to anyone that I haven’t seen a thousand times before. Being single makes you realize that all you really want is to be around someone else. But what I’m saying has already been said by a thousand other people in a thousand other ways. The need to articulate ones feelings is a universal need, and the fact that I am is nothing special. I blend into the crowd of people who are unsatisfied with their social lives. I am no different, individuality is a pretty idea painted up by optimists with dread locks and tie-dye shirts. If there is such a thing as individuality, then how can there be universal themes and ideas? People don’t differ in substantial ways. It’s only little things that allow us to deviate one person from the next. One person may be black while another is white, but they both have skin. Is color or length or height or brains or looks or strength such a huge factor in what makes up a person at all? We all have skin, brains, muscles, bones, lips, eyes, ideas, and personalities. These things aren’t always the same, but you don’t have to look too far to find someone who looks like someone else. The idea of individuality is flawed and sickeningly positive in a world where cynicism governs and harbors our feelings and thoughts… well, then again… that may just be my point of view at the moment. Tomorrow, I may just want to frolic through a field with an oversized lollipop in my hand… whatever.