Impressionism
Friends, today has been kind of a weird day, filled with ups and downs.
For the sake of brevity, I’m not even going to go into detail about work. Good things happened but I’ll just talk about them tomorrow, though probably Saturday when I have the time.
“Well, all you have time to do is work so what the heck are you going to talk about?”
Good question, inner monologue. And the answer is one that I don’t normally throw out without good reason:
My feelings.
“Cue orchestra hit.”
Exactly.
Well, when I went to get dinner with Louis/John at the Cuban Cafe next to my hostel (I don’t even want to talk about the duration and cost of that meal) we had many a philosophical argument (big surprise there), but one that particularly intrigued me.
Louis was describing these moments of metaphysical realization, or spiritual discovery, which I told him were similar to out-of-body experiences. And he was all, “Yeah, that’s it!”
My response: I don’t get those.
Instead, I have these moments every few days, either in response to being deeply involved in something or to someone calling my name, where I don’t recognize my own name and completely forget my identity altogether.
It’s basically five seconds of complete amnesia.
It’s like my mind steps outside of my body, looks at it reacting to hearing it’s name called and wonders “Why?”
“That’s messed up.”
Yeah, I’m pretty sure most people don’t have these kinds of moments. It’s probably a sign that I have a rapidly growing malignant brain tumor. Oh well. There are worse ways to die.
“What does this have to do with your feelings?”
Well, remembering that I have these moments in comparison to the moments that I have consistently while I”m at work where I think about New College and all my friends there. I don’t know.
Have you ever missed a person so badly that it actually physically hurts?
It’s moments like that which make me wish I had identity crises more frequently.
Here I’d like to interject a little something I wrote to a friend when he asked me how I like New York:
I had to say goodbye to Louis tonight too. I’ve always had this feeling of having lived a million lives already, simply from moving as many times as I did when I was little, but I’ll be having a conversation with Louis, texting my friends in Massachusetts, waiting for a call from someone at New College, and knowing my dad is expecting some recognition that I got back to my hostel. That’s at least five different “me’s” that need to exist simultaneously and it’s honestly, the most conflicted feeling in the world.
Think of it this way: When you’re at school, you act differently than you do when you’re home. Easy enough. And isn’t it weird when you have to call home and “tell” your parents what you do at school (honesty here being a particularly large line)? You don’t want to mix the two worlds. And they don’t want to either. It’s like vinegar and oil.
Now imagine that times two, and being in a place you don’t know very well.
Yeah, welcome to my life.
“It’s a wonder you haven’t had a nervous breakdown yet.”
Tell me about it.
P.S. Help my friend Casey out with his new book!
