also, and possibly more interestingly so, i have decided not to comepte with people around me because they are just as insecure and strange as i am. sometimes i imagine that the current of people trying so hard is completely within my power, kind of like the bell curve in a class...the harder i try, the harder everyone else tries...is it pathetic to need these delusions of how much the world relies upon you? for instance, it is silent in this library, and i happen to be a quick typer, especially when i am doing something stream of consciousness...so...whenever i type at full speed, the girl in front of me starts typing at full speed and then i realize that it is a race and i have to keep going with my thought and i can't pause to erase and i everyone around me starts to notice how frantically we both are typing...but then i slow down to about a quarter of how quickly i want to go...and the storm of busy fingers dies down to a soft pattering....the calm of thoughts collecting is as heavy as the fingerfalls, and things are going at their respective speeds. sometimes i think that competitiveness is like the sour smell i sometimes get a wiff of, and i imagine that it is coming from me, and that other people around me can smell it, and then i go to great lengths to remove it or avoid it, and then i realize later on that no one could smell it but me.
i have been reading this book called 'extremely loud and incredibly close' and it is definitely having an effect on my offhand writing style. i use less periods, more commas, and have this sudden urge to abandon all punctuation. but i keep the apostrophes. when i was very young, my mother was asking my brother a question. he is three years older, and i must have been about four, and the answer was 'apostrophe', and he couldn't get it. and i said it, very plainly and quietly. it was dark in the living room and i was partially watching tv, but always with half of my attention on what the two of them were talking about. they fascinated me, always discussing politics and social matters, even little things like how to set the time on a vcr. i was the cute and dumb one who did randomly amazing things that freaked the both of them out. so when i said 'apostrophe', they stopped in their tracks and all the attention was one me. there is a correclation between the vividness of my memories, and the times when the most amount of attention is focused on me. i would have hated to admit it before, but now it doesn't bother me, because they are both on the other side of the country, and i am writing to no one, and everyone...that is the magic of the internet. who knows who will see it?
i was talking to john yesterday (or early this morning, whichever) and he and i both talked about wanting to be child prodigies. i told him that sometimes i was, because i'd come up with these sporradic pieces of writing that would take all of the attention from everything around me. sometimes i think i used my creative energy that way, to get as much of the amazement and awe that was possible in any given situation at the same time. i live for those moments, perhaps because i have been underestimated for so much of my life...or perhaps it is because i just like impressing people. the former makes more sense, since i have endured (and inspired) a lot of teasing and insults and tramplings of self-esteem. it was like a sport sometimes, and i was the goal, or the football, or the scoreboard...i don't know...it was always a resting perdiod, when these people would make fun of me...i was laying low until the next big amazement. sometimes it would be in the form of the morning announcements which would randomly say my name as the winner of the annual reflections contest. or sometimes it would be in the form of a multi-syllabic answer to a question that was rhetorical because the teacher didn't expect anyone to know the answer. sometimes it was in the form of strange behavior, these times happened more than any other, and the attention and amazement would be negative. i still lapped it up...i was like some weird little animal that lived off of the wide-eyed stares of people, and i hybernated in the solitude of friendless and imaginitive afternoons and talking-myself-to-sleep nights, until something out of my subconscious would reach like a great visceral arm and grab everything by the balls (or vag's, whichever) and hold them there for a few minutes, or maybe longer.
for instance: i went to bellevue highschool when i was 17 and 18 years old. i had to repeat the eleventh grade because i had moved so much during the previous years. it was a fucked up time, and i didn't have any friends. i had sort of graduated from being the laughing stock, to being the one that people were aware of but never really spoke to. sometimes people would notice me, and i had a few people that talked to me every day. people kind of knew that i was a musician, but i didn't go to school often enough to be anything else to them. perhaps that was better. my first big amazement was during the martin luther king assembly, when i was given the chance to play a song in front of about 1300 people. i played 'redemption song', and my dad was there with the camcorder, which actually amazed me. he never did anything like that, especially during office hours. it went well, and people started to notice me. it didn't seem to matter as much to me then as it would have if i was still in middle school...i had begun to take the stares of teenagers for granted, or maybe just started seeing them for what they were really worth. i played during the talent show, but it was a very brief and silly performance which i didn't put much in to...it was more practice for me...during school i can remember speaking during english classes about 'the lord of the flies', because i loved that book and had read it many times before the teacher assigned it....
at the end of the year, i played a song during the last assembly...i really tried during that performance, i wanted to make people cry. i remember rewriting the words to a song by The Verve, words about sentiment and coming of age. i had nothing to draw from when i wrote the words, but despite the cliched nature of them, they went over well. people actually listened and were silent...it was like getting high, or eating pure chocolate for five minutes. it was incredible.
i wonder how much character this kind of addiction builds, or destroys. i wonder if there is more to life, and sometimes i watch people who are humble, who never speak in class, who don't really care what they look like...i see that some of those people are happy and content, and are reviered among their friends. i wonder what it would be like if i wasn't a performer, and i can't really think of anything at all...maybe i don't have as good of an imagination as i thought.