You know that it would be a lie If I was to say to you Girl, we couldn't get much higher...

Before I forget: do this, because I'm actually quite curious. It won't take you away from my wonderfully fascinating post, don't worry.



Back to business. Today was better. I woke up feeling gross and threw on a tank top and some wierd boots, but everything turned out all right. I walked to school with my dad without arguing even once, scheduled a year of deadlines with Donovan, dropped Chorus, went to my first tap class, and left after 7th. Doug even complimented my boots, which might be a first.

The best part, though, was getting on the L train at 3rd avenue and going straight to Pratt to see Harry. All my trains came on time, although I wandered around a bit trying to find the campus; I got some time with some of Harry's friends, some time with their TV and some time with Harry. By the time I stepped into the taxi I felt like a queen, despite my greasy hair, Harry's sweater and the fact that we'd obliviously missed the first taxi the guard called for me. It didn't matter that I was stuffed with Chinese food and still in high school. I felt mature and confident and comfortable and completely at peace.

And on the ride home I began thinking about all the layers there are to people. While Harry may seem simple at a glance, he's got his own deep-buried complexes, as intricate as mine or anyone else's. While the cabby played fittingly-stereotypical boyband-emo-indie-rock, I started rethinking my judgement of my grade. Everything seemed subjective suddenly. I started thinking about the people that usually bore me from a perspective of sympathy and discovered that they weren't quite as one-dimensional as I'd made them. Suddenly I wanted to know everything about everyone. Are these people happy? What are their lives, their families like?

I know that I am a self-centered person. I'm not proud of this fact. I like people that I'm impressed but not intimidated by, and with whom I can have interesting conversations. But why do the details of some people's lives fail to interest me? I think of all of the circles below the surface and come to the conclusion that I can only blame my lack of imagination for my own boredom.

I can also be judgemental, though I try my hardest not to be. I don't really like admitting this, either. The people I dislike the most are those that I see consciously hurting other people. I think it's because despite everything I still envision myself as at the receiving end of it.

That sounded better in my head. Believe me.



PS-I love rock 'n' roll. Just watched Fats Domino, Buddy Holly & the Crickets, Little Richard, Bill Hayley & the Comets, Chubby Checker, The Everly Brothers, Muddy Waters, The Lovin' Spoonful, Elvis, Joe Cocker, Dylan, the Byrds, Simon & Garfunkel, Cream, The Doors, Joni Mitchell, Jefferson Airplane and many many many more on a tape my dad bought for $1 at a flea market last weekend. I LOVE THIS MUSIC.