stuff

[wolnworbyellek]

My oh my. It is gray outside. The trees are dancing in the wind. If I just look up towards the sky, it almost feels like home. Then I look out over the roof tops and realize I am far from home. I'm far from my small town where no matter how much I bitched about everybody recognizing me, it's reassuring because you know, somehow, you've made enough of an impact on a total stranger for their gaze to linger in recognition on your face a split second longer than it would have. It was a nice feeling to know that if you were ever in trouble, someone would always be there to help you and chances are you would have crossed paths with them before. It was a nice feeling, as much as I hated it, to drive down the road and throw a peace sign up to every 3rd car you see, because you're their buddy. Or their mom works with you. Or their brother plays guitar with yours. Or you always see them at the same parties. Or whatever, everybody seems to know everybody and as much as I hated it, it's something I'll miss living here. But the other edge of the sword is that those reasons right there are the reasons I had to get out in the first place. 
Recognition is one thing, notoriety is another.