Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again. Willa Cather
(or are they?)

It astonishes me how much time I can spend in my room reading and writing. I really do like to be by myself.
Last summer I went to a party and although I hate big social gatherings, I was unusually talkative and comfortable at this certain event. At one point this girl came up to me that I had never met in my life looking somewhat confused and exclaimed "I read an article that you wrote and I absolutely loved it, but I must say that I have been watching you for awhile and you are nothing like I imagined...I thought that you would be a silent introvert with glasses shyly sitting in the corner...but boy was I wrong..you are outgoing and funny! I was a little shocked at her comment and thought to myself...yes, but that's how I really feel! A strange experience but nonetheless made me think.

Its ironic how we portray ourselves in certain ways that are so disconnected from our thoughts and feelings. I feel like to a certain degree it is necessary that I portray myself differently. If everyone was to go around vomiting their whole beings on others, we would overwhelm and misunderstand each other. But how beautiful when we do connect and comprehend the "whole" of someone. I guess there is some purpose in learning how to be shallow in order to communicate on a certain level (such as parties) but why is it that I feel like thats it? As if the shallow conversation should be the means to a deep friendship, and yet your left to find that the surface is not the means but only the end? Quick fixes and simply answers are what we demand! Cheap conversations. Cheap thoughts. Cheap relationships. Why dont I struggle for the best? Why dont I strive for perfection? Why dont I suffer for depth?


And this is where I feel defeated. Instead of fighting my mundane reality I have given up and instead live in my memories. Like an old flickering movie, I would rather dwell on esoteric moments then press on through "life." As if I should try and squeeze all I could out of them. But the problem with memories is that they are distorted reality. Although they maybe enjoyable, they are merely what we want to remember excluding the whole reality of the experience.

So I will continue with the mundane. I will strive out of the old and into the new. And as difficult as it maybe, I will search for hidden pearls and maybe discover an ounce of depth.