Sunday, June 21, 2009
11:11 PM
I'm sitting among strangers, wondering what brought us all into this confined space on this Sunday night. The girl across the aisle is going back to cram for her LSAT. The older gentleman in front of me is going on business. The couple behind me took a spur-of-the-moment trip. The baby sleeping next to me doesn't know where he's going. Where am I going? I'm going back to every day routine and every night insanity. As I realize that, I look over at the clock and can't help but make a wish and wonder… What if any of those strangers around me are making a wish, too. What are they wishing for?
I'm sitting among strangers, in disbelief that Monday is here already. There is something about Monday that I cannot grasp that makes it soothing though. In my head it resembles a new beginning in some absurd but absolute way. I hate ALL Mondays; this is an absolute statement. I like absolute statements. Life is an absolute statement. It’s an evolving but constant state of chaos in one way or another… Turbulence...
I'm sitting among strangers and think that it's meant for us to be strangers. I have nothing in common with the girl across the aisle from me; her Bebe and Armani Exchange outfit, perfectly put together; her polished look and undivided dedication to the LSAT book while sipping on Gin and Tonic. I don't care if she likes The Beatles or if photography is one of her hobbies. She looked at me as I walked into the plane; my oversized sunglasses and towel-looking funky-colored tube top were judged by her immediately, causing her impeccably waxed eyebrows to raise just enough for me to notice… I have nothing in common with the guy who got the window seat in my aisle; his fake interest in reading Twilight; his fake interest in his wife trying to feed their screaming baby; his genuine interest in my tube top (particularly the very top part). It's irrelevant if he loves coffee and can spend hours watching Family Guy; we are still strangers… My coffee arrives; the flight attendant smiles and says she likes my earrings. You like those earrings. Why aren't me and you strangers?
I'm sitting among strangers, as my eyelids start closing despite of a cup of black coffee I just killed. My brain starts slowing down, and my thoughts suddenly disappear. The uncertainty of what is going to be written by my fingers is the only thing keeping me awake. As I try to pretend that the crying baby is not next to me, I think about the end of yet another 48-hour trip. All I know is I'm coming home, and I know you will be there...
11:11 PM
I'm sitting among strangers, wondering what brought us all into this confined space on this Sunday night. The girl across the aisle is going back to cram for her LSAT. The older gentleman in front of me is going on business. The couple behind me took a spur-of-the-moment trip. The baby sleeping next to me doesn't know where he's going. Where am I going? I'm going back to every day routine and every night insanity. As I realize that, I look over at the clock and can't help but make a wish and wonder… What if any of those strangers around me are making a wish, too. What are they wishing for?
I'm sitting among strangers, in disbelief that Monday is here already. There is something about Monday that I cannot grasp that makes it soothing though. In my head it resembles a new beginning in some absurd but absolute way. I hate ALL Mondays; this is an absolute statement. I like absolute statements. Life is an absolute statement. It’s an evolving but constant state of chaos in one way or another… Turbulence...
I'm sitting among strangers and think that it's meant for us to be strangers. I have nothing in common with the girl across the aisle from me; her Bebe and Armani Exchange outfit, perfectly put together; her polished look and undivided dedication to the LSAT book while sipping on Gin and Tonic. I don't care if she likes The Beatles or if photography is one of her hobbies. She looked at me as I walked into the plane; my oversized sunglasses and towel-looking funky-colored tube top were judged by her immediately, causing her impeccably waxed eyebrows to raise just enough for me to notice… I have nothing in common with the guy who got the window seat in my aisle; his fake interest in reading Twilight; his fake interest in his wife trying to feed their screaming baby; his genuine interest in my tube top (particularly the very top part). It's irrelevant if he loves coffee and can spend hours watching Family Guy; we are still strangers… My coffee arrives; the flight attendant smiles and says she likes my earrings. You like those earrings. Why aren't me and you strangers?
I'm sitting among strangers, as my eyelids start closing despite of a cup of black coffee I just killed. My brain starts slowing down, and my thoughts suddenly disappear. The uncertainty of what is going to be written by my fingers is the only thing keeping me awake. As I try to pretend that the crying baby is not next to me, I think about the end of yet another 48-hour trip. All I know is I'm coming home, and I know you will be there...
I like your writing style and the fact you notice what's going on around you...I think I'll keep my eye on this stranger.
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