March 7, 2008
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Who am I kidding? I can't help myself but write down nothing at all in the most elaborate way possible.
People watching is a hobby of mine that I do without thinking. Perhaps it's more of a nervous aversion to whatever else I'm thinking about.
A sweet looking young lady wearing glasses was chattering and walking briskly behind a tall, blocky boy as I was walking up the stairs. She kept running for a second to catch up with him, but never stopped talking. It seemed like he was trying to avoid her, yet she didn't back down and she just kept blabbing and blabbing. I know her. She's me from high school, trailing behind my crushes wishing desperately that they would pay attention to me, if only for a moment and trying my best to sound interesting and knowledgeable.
At the bottom of the hour people were everywhere, milling to and fro and talking on their cell phones and smiling or frowning at one another. For some reason my attention was drawn to the ratio of pants colors in my line of sight. Lots of jeans, some black running pants, a few pairs of brown slacks, one khaki pair of cargo pants and my favorite, on pair of bright pink velor pants. I then imagined all the pants talking to one another. All the jeans were just chatting about mundane random things that had happened during the day. The black running pants were questioning each other about total mileage and protein shakes. The brown slacks were discussing religion and politics like it made them sound intelligent and important. The cargo pants stared longingly across the sidewall at the pink velor pants, wishing that the unrequited love between them could be expressed. Oh, pants.
Why are girls so beautiful? I look around in my classes (and if they weren't bitches I would absolutely date them), in restaurants, at movie theaters, and pretty much anywhere I am and I am always gifted with the sight of tiny, skinny young ladies in pretty tops and nice pants with cute things in their hair and amazing glasses on their faces. I want one of them. I want to hold her and tell her she is beautiful. I want to take her out to dinner and run my index finger along her jaw. I want her to smile at me and really be happy. I want her to love me and never leave me. I want her to be my female everything (since I already have a male everything).
But then I look at myself and know it's never going to happen. I'm not desirable enough. I weigh 130 pounds and am only 5'3". I buy my clothing at the Goodwill. I speak gruffly and bluntly with terrible diction and a recurring rural twang (completely unlike my posts I promise you). I wear no make-up and I have stupid hair. Yeah, never going to happen. Why is almost every nerdy boy I meet attracted to me and willing to give me his heart in a gilded jewelry box, but every girl I meet looks at me like some kind of freak show and wants to be as far away from me as possible?
Ugh, why I am so greedy? I read that back to myself and remember that I have everything that anyone could ever ask for in a mate sleeping soundly back in my apartment. Why must I have two, one of each flavor? That's like walking around with two ice cream cones because you're that much of a glutton, or like drinking with wine in one hand and a cold beer in the other. Either way you look like an idiot.
Comments (4)
"But then I look at myself and know it's never going to happen. I'm not desirable enough. I weigh 130 pounds and am only 5'3". I buy my clothing at the Goodwill. I speak gruffly and bluntly with terrible diction and a recurring rural twang (completely unlike my posts I promise you). I wear no make-up and I have stupid hair. Yeah, never going to happen. Why is almost every nerdy boy I meet attracted to me and willing to give me his heart in a gilded jewelry box, but every girl I meet looks at me like some kind of freak show and wants to be as far away from me as possible?"
Er, didn't you answer your own question? Albiet, I've met girls who wear make-up that would be down with someone like you. Er... but, I guess not in the sense that you want them to be. Oops, lol.
Boring? C'mon, give yourself some more credit. At least you have stuff to write about... and have the courage to write about it publically. Heh, it's kind of a different situation for myself because more than a few people I know IRL read my blog. So... I don't go spouting off all of my every single desires about having orgys like you do. But... you know. lol.
"I want to run through a flower field with you, find a good sitting spot and just sit and talk for a couple hours."
You have absolutely no idea how appealing that sounds right now.
So, you are apparently the cargo pants, and the girls you long for are the glamorous, pink velor pants, amirite?
You don't sound greedy. I suppose everyone wants a little of everything sometimes.
i took a writing course several years ago. my instructor told us to find someone to follow for an hour or so (inconspicuously, of course). i followed a blonde college student around and invented a story from her. she was from minnesota, and was lonely in saratoga springs, having never been to new york. she was a biology major and had an urge to go back to her natural hair color, brown.
i don't really go people watching, but i sure pay more attention to them now and try to imagine what life is like in their shoes.
people watching is all I know. Observing. Crude judgement. Elaborate plots built around strangers just from their physical land scape and demure. it's a writer thing, I suppose. or just a human being thing.
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