I am an observer [Sunday, Aug. 13, 2006, 12:56 pm]
I am an observer. One might assume that in coming up with such unusual descriptions of the surrounding world, observerse must have forged close relationships with those they observe. This is not true in my case, and though I cannot speak for all, the very essence of being an observer, to me, includes being somewhat detached from these surroundings. Otherwise, experience would be taking place, and not true observation. Observers notice things that are sometimes so minute and seemingly insignificant that they become profound when brought to the attention of those who merely experience and do not see.
Two girls, likely 13-year-olds, are walking quickly down the length of the porch, and they are talking loudly, their conversation frequently giving way to giggles. The larger one decides to climb the staircase, and becomes silhouetted herself - a wonderful addition to the picture of dark railings contrasted with bright siding in the background, illuminated by tungsten lights. The other girl mentions something about the fire escape being off-limits, but soon joins her, laughing almost as loudly as her friend. As they climb and their forms darken, they seem to be whispering to each other, comfortably, as if their thoughts travel no further than that very moment. With a laugh and a muffled squeal, the two forms fly happily down the stairs and come to a tumbling halt in the middle of the porch, back on ground level once again. They grab onto each other to still their momentum, and some loud talking and laughter is exchanged before the two go off somewhere else - out of my field of vision, doubtless never to be observed by me again.
I was a 13-year-old girl once, but I was never a part of that world. My thoughts had a bad habit of always traveling much further than whatever moment they happened to exist in. I suppose they still do. They allow me to observe things that others do not, and thus to experience them at different times and places. Perhaps, though, this mental mobility prohibits me, in part, from experiencing things at the same time and place as everyone else. Thus, I have no choice but to observe.
I wrote this in a moment of "inspiration," so don't take it all to be completely true of myself. Still, it's a concept I find myself rather familiar with.
Vitality - Tuesday, Aug. 11, 2009