It feels weird, this much free time on my hands. Wandering the halls and spinning the streets around this school where I could very well find myself next year is an odd experience…hell, even scribbling by hand with a pencil just to kill time is odd, something I almost never do any more. Still, after my impromptu meeting with Gene (full title already forgotten), I’m pretty encouraged. I think I’ll like it here.
Linnaea’s class is nearly over, and so consequently, is my anonymous wandering. That’s a little too bad, it feels like I’m giving up a very short-lived life as a spy, or some other mysterious persona. No one knows me here; my skiing past seems all the more humble for it. Riding around the campus grounds aimlessly, weaving in and around the crowds of students, I realize the glaringly inconsequential nature of our lives. Here, in this huge city, no one really matters. And yet, we each matter all the more because of that. My life is open ended as far as these people are concerned; my story could be anything I chose. I got hit by that truck I just so narrowly avoided, people would be in shock, at least until their phones buzzed and summoned them back to their lives. That makes my friends and family seem so much more important to me. What truly matters in this life is not the reaction of strangers to your presence, but that of your friends. How hollow that must feel who can fill a stadium with strangers, yet not his living room with friends. Will these presently nameless people one day soon fill my living room? I don’t know, but I do know it won’t be at the cost of those already there.
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