I never thought that my still being a virgin would be a cool thing. I never met someone who thinks that still being a virgin at the age of 25, going on 26 in less than a month, would be a cool thing. I met that someone.
Whether she is pulling my leg or not, I’m not sure, but she thinks that it is cool that I am still one. I laugh, and tell her that it is pathetic, cause it really is. It really is.
She’s a sweet girl. A nice girl. A pretty girl. A girl that I could easily fall for. I have already started that process of falling for her. I’ve talked with her. I’ve flirted with her. I’ve even asked her out and gave her my number. We’ve only met for three weeks.
In these past three weeks I’ve gotten to know more about her than I did in three years time of my last infatuation. She’s an easy girl to talk to. Funny, cute, playful, and wise. A sweet girl, filled with the girlish charms that drives men crazy. She’s a great girl.
Unfortunately for me. She’s taken, as all great girls are. She’s taken.
During my days, I will spend my bored hours, my hours of not wanting to be there, talking with her, getting to know her, to help make the day go by faster.
The funniest thing that she’s ever told me or said about me is that I’m cocky. I’ve never thought I was cocky. Cocky is not me. I’m not full of myself, I don’t try to impress others so they would like me. I’ve never been that type of person. She thought me as cocky. Ha! I laugh at that thought. She laughed too cause of my reaction.
Cocky? No. She used the wrong word. She even told me that she’s using the wrong word as she exclaimed that I’m cocky. No, she meant to say that I’m sure of myself.
Funny. I’ve been told that just last weekend, and now, this girl, who’ve I only met for three weeks tells me the same thing. I’ve changed. Like I said in my last entry, I’m a lot surer of myself.
Three weeks. Three weeks. That’s the quickest I’ve acted and connected with a girl. Considering it took me a long while to get up the courage to ask my last obsession out, this is moving fast for me.
I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never connected with a girl so fast before. Well, maybe I had and I didn’t notice. I don’t know. From the first day, I wasn’t afraid of joking with her, making fun of her. From the first day, I wasn’t afraid of causing trouble.
Is this the new me? How did I become this way? When did this start?
Did it start with the whole lesbian thing on New Year’s Eve or did it start before? My Thanksgiving break up in Washington? Jill’s party? When? Where was this courage, this confidence, this assertiveness when I needed it most in the oh so long days ago?
Did me getting out of my old job just gave me a clean slate to start new? Things just seem to fall into place ever since I’ve gotten out of there. Was that place so bad that it just blocked all of my positive energy, stunting my emotional growth? I’ve been told and I believed that place would suck my soul. I guess it really did.
So stagnant my life felt there. Every time I take a step forward, it just seems that I get pulled back ten steps. Look what I’ve accomplished since my leaving there.
I made a short film.
I wrote a play and will write another which will most likely be produced.
I started a script that I’m actually excited about.
I’ve made and connected with girls. Sure nothing has come out of it, but I’m making progress. Drew, the laundromat girl, the lesbian, and now the new girl.
This couldn’t happen any sooner? I guess not. I know I’ve written that I don’t believe in fate and destiny and everything, but I guess it has to happen when it happens, if not, then it wouldn’t happen.
This is the fastest that I’ve learned about a person in a long while. She told me many things that she said no one knows. I feel special.
Things are different about this one. Things are different about me and what is happening. Knowing me, I should be so deeply into this girl that I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Knowing me, she should be my world. Knowing me, she should be my obsession.
Like my last craving, she should encompass all that is me, but she’s not. I’ve gotten less and less obsessive. I can let go and just let things be. Sure it doesn’t seem to the dear reader that that is the case, cause I’m writing about her, but honestly, it is true. Things are different. Things are different indeed.
i don’t know what it is with me, but things are truly different. Maybe it is just my general apathy about things, or maybe my friend is right, that I’m just growing more and more callous, but I don’t think that is the case. I’m not emotionally hardened, well, atleast I don’t think I am.
So what is going to happen now? I don’t know. I’m not going to pry, I’m not going to do anything. Nothing at all. If it happens, it’ll happen. It it doesn’t, then it doesn’t, it never was meant to be.
* * *
Silence. All is silent but the soft tunes that pour out of the headphones. Nothing stirs around him. He sits in silence, thinking, reflecting on his life, typing it away to the muffled ballad that blares from his headphones. He sits alone.
This is his life, his passion, his destiny. It is just his sitting and typing away, writing all his feelings, thoughts, memories and philosophies down on the electronic notepad. He writes because he can. He writes because he needs to. He writes because it eases his soul.
The orange glowing eyes that pass on the road underneath hypnotizes him into his mindless daze. He watches other people as they do the same thing, driving, living, moving on as he sits so alone, stagnant, writing.
He doesn’t belong with them. They move whereas he sits. They’re going places so quickly and he just sits as he waits patiently for his destination to arrive. He waits so patiently. He’s waited so long, he doesn’t mind waiting more.
Life moves so fast around him, he doesn’t know how to live that life. Whatever happen to the slow days of yore? Whatever happened to the life that once was?
It was a easier time then, a simpler time. Not much on one’s mind and no worries to cloud one’s mind. Whatever happened?
What’s changed in him, what’s changed in all of us that made us age so fast? What happened that causes us to blink and miss three years of our lives?
He sits contemplating these questions. The answers elude him like life escapes him. He sits so patiently, waiting for the answers to drop on his lap. He writes and writes hoping the dam will break and the answers will flow through him onto the page.
But nothing comes tumbling out of him. The secrets of the world still sit knowingly inside him.
Deep inside all of us, we know the answers to these questions. Deep inside us, we have the answers to all secrets of the world, the universe, to existence, but we are just too afraid to answer it.
Once we answer these life long questions, what is left? All the mysteries are answered and there is nothing left to learn. There will be nothing left to search for, to drive us to live and to figure what is wrong with us? There will be nothing but waiting around to the inevitable. The endless sleep or the great awakening?
He stops writing and looks around him, studying the things that sit stagnant with him. A potted plant, misaligned chairs and tables, windows, people sitting doing the same thing that he is, buildings, billboards, signs. All these things, so different, yet so much a like. Even the things in motion are similar to these stagnant objects.
They all will have to stop sometime. It’s inevitable that they do stop, yet each one will still live on, move on with time as they sit stagnant like our dear writer.
Time changes everything. Time moves on and is endless. The concept of time is never ending. Even when the last soul leaves our planet, time will still tick on like clockwork.
The funny thing about time and with all things is that with each second that goes by, we can’t get that second back. It is lost in time forever. It is our past. Constantly, we are getting further and further away from where we were just mere seconds ago.
We all are never really stagnant. Even when we are dead, we are never stagnant. We will always live on and move on, moving away further and further from the the present ticking of each precious second. We will always be, moving on, moving, moving.
Even the dead knows the concept of time. We can never escape time.
With each song and each beat, he types to the rhythm that the headphones blares into this head. He types and types like a slow sweet tango. Each stroke of his fingers types a symbol that adds to another symbol that forms a thought that strings together with another thought that strings with another thought. Pretty soon all he has is a string of thoughts that tells a story. That is life.
Life is just a series of thoughts that string together to tell a story. It tells the story of a person’s life. From birth to death. It’s just nothing but a series of thoughts, events. These events are so much alike to everyone else’s events, but they are so different because they are each our own. No two persons share the same events the same way.
Their connection with the other string of events that precedes the current event dictates how they think and feel and behave, making each experience, even though experienced by millions different and individual.
And with each second that passes by, that event will be a part of a collection of events that each of us has experienced and will be a part of our history. With our newfound collected history, we take all we can and prepare ourselves for the next even that is currently taking place. And the cycles go on and on until there is nothing left to learn because we have learned all we have to know, or want to know, or need to know in our lifetime.
As we pass, we pass down our collection of life events onto our next generation. The next generation incorporates these events into their lives and build from them. Soon, our world is just a collection of stories of billions upon billions upon billions of people that are always near and dear to us, each all connected to each other through time; each experiencing time, the only constant in the world.
He stops writing as he comes to a familiar song that shares the same sentiments that he is writing about. Let it be by the Beatles. There will be an answer, let it be. All these questions that every single one of us have, there will be an answer to it. Be patient, and just let it be. The answers will come when it is time to come. Things will come when it is time for it. Don’t rush it. The last thing you want to do with your time and your life it to rush it.
Why try and rush and grow up so quickly? You will just end up looking back thinking where had the time go. You will just end up blinking and half of your life will pass you by and you just will sit there in your old age thinking what happened to it.
Don’t rush. Just let it be as the fab four will sing and just live life as you always wanted to live life. On your own terms. Don’t let anything dictate how you should live your life. When it is time to change, you and only you will change. It is not worth changing on the account of someone. The change is not nnatural and the change is not you, especially when you are not ready for it.
He continues writing as the song finishes. He’s writing, taking his time, sitting there, not alone, and not in silence, but surrounded by all things that is like him, listening to the songs of the world and the mighty tunes that rattle his brain. He sits there writing, taking his sweet time, patiently typing out letter for letter, word for word, sentence for sentence, paragraph for paragraph, linking things up to tell a story.
The story of his life. The story of the world. The story of all.
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Mumblings of a Hermit 隐者 