Saturday, December 6, 2014


It has taken me about five minutes to begin this post. I had the window open and ready, my fingers poised to type out the most profound! the most insightful! the most shockingly honest and absurd and philosophically rich. the most! But then I got distracted by my right thumb. Specifically, I became distracted by the subtle lines in the skin of my thumb. I thought one of the lines was a cut, actually. I thought I was about the bleed all over the space key. I thought, "Well, here's another distraction." I thought, "Do I even have any bandages?" I thought, "Why hasn't it started to bleed?" Then I realized it was not a cut, but a line for some psychic in the future to read. Do they read thumbs? Probably just the palm, huh? I could grow up to be a thumb reader, I suppose, but that first means I must grow up.

And now I am really distracted. And maybe a little bored, as I'm sure you are after reading a paragraph all about my thumb. I guess I didn't come here with much of a story to tell or a flowery poem to breathe onto the screen. No, I just came here to say hello. HELLO! Is it me you're looking for? Well, you are in luck, sir/ma'am. Here I am. Oh! Tricked you! This is not really me. These are letters which form words which form fragmented sentences which form paragraphs about thumbs which make you fall asleep at you computer. And it's all in your head. I am all in your head, at least right now. And so are you. You are in your head, you are in my head, we've created each other. Who have you created me to be? Merely curious. I might be the funny girl from a few years ago or the one who makes happy thoughts happen on social media sites. I could be the cause of your frustration (ah, but remember -- I'm just words on a screen!) or the idea behind some dream.

But in my world, in the world outside of your head, I am the person who picked up a violet red crayon that was left abandoned in the street. I put it in my purse and continued to walk while reading an essay about coyotes and ghosts. I went to the store. I bought Christmas lights and thought about God as I waited in line at the self-checkout. I went back outside and back into my head as I observed a solitary crow strut around a garbage can, determined. I hoped he would find a proper dinner or at least a lonely crayon companion. The mountains turned pink as the sun clocked out. I watched houses begin to light up as the scent of casseroles and chimney smoke crept out of their doors and into my hair. I stopped. I took the violet red crayon out of my purse and drew a circle on the sidewalk. Maybe the crow will notice if no one else does. Maybe it will keep him curious throughout the night.

This is who I am. Or rather, this is who I was two hours ago. Who am I right now? I am the words you read on the screen before you blink and look away.

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