I
-After-
God. I hate parties. Well, I guess it's not really "parties" that I hate. Birthdays can be ok. Family gatherings. Events where I already know what to expect from the people I will encounter. So no, I don't hate parties. I dislike "strangers". The phony act we are forced to perform when we meet someone new. small talk. The pretending to care. I don't care; maybe if I did we wouldn't be having this conversation. Maybe if I cared enough, I wouldn't be here. alone.
-Before-
I was surprised when Ian asked if I wanted to go out tonight. I would call him a friend, but that really doesn't seem fair. He's more like a cool guy I know because we're neighbors. Apartment neighbors are a bit more intimate than house neighbors. If it wasn't for one extremely thin wall, we'd be roomates. I can hear when he comes. When he goes. When he has company over. I can hear the ups and downs of his relationships. Things bump and jostle around a bit more when things are going well. Sadness equals stillness and quiet. Yesterday was quiet. Maybe that's why he asked me out. His life lacks noise and I've been recruited to provide some.
I would say it's funny how humans use each other. But it's not really humorous at all. It's sad. We all know people who only take interest in us when they have nothing better to do. Some of us understand the weekend, especially Friday night, to be the loneliest time of the week. It's when you discover who really values your company. It's easy to communicate and keep up with people when you have the comfortable excuse of work or school. You text or call when convenient. During the weekday nobody worries too much because it's understood and assumed that everyone is busy. On the weekend though, things are a bit different. You're free, and therefore every hour spent is a choice. Time gets budgeted and the least valuable people in your life become unnecessary expenses.forgotten.deleted.removed.Replaced,
As I pulled into a parking spot, at my apartment complex, I noticed Ian leaning on the hood of one of our neighbor's car. smoking. He was wearing his usual black hoodie + black jeans + black shirt = 1 cool dude combo, which I tend to enjoy. Ian is your typical 20 something kinda tall skinny white dude. Medium length black hair in one of those styles with the sides cut low but the top left long. If you ever seen that band Jesus and Mary Chain, just imagine that but in the 21st century. If you don't know what I'm talking about then google it. It's the 21st century.
I often like to bask a bit in the moments where I notice someone before they notice me noticing them. People make very soul revealing facial expressions when they think they are alone. It's perhaps the most honest interaction you can have with someone. Voyeurism. I saw in his face: worry, anxiety and contemplation. It looked as though he was tasked with solving a very depressing math problem. Then He saw me. The wrinkles and lines of his face no longer revealed the truth. I now saw happiness and the look of a problem solved.
Side-Note
Notice?Does the word "note" come from notice? It must. This makes the word meaning the physical object a person writes or types, much more interesting to me. You can mentally take note, or physically. A paper note is the corporeal manifestation of a thought. Thoughts are fleeting and esoteric. The nonphysical nature of thought gives it the power to contain the infinite and even the impossible. Much is lost when the spiritual has to be mutilated to fit into the physical. A thought could never really be physically captured on paper. The emotion is gone. The feeling is absent. Thoughts are expressed in a language that transcend words. The physical note is not unlike the physical body. A very poor representation of the essential aspects of a living, thinking ,feeling, being. If I were a note I'd rather a symbol or image placed on me. (tattoos?)Words can lie.
