Addict
I’m addicted to the mindbend. I spend inordinate amounts of time seeking out things that I don’t just not understand but fully cannot twist my head around enough to get at them. Philosophy and language both are happy pastimes, and I’m always on the lookout for more.
But really I feel it’s deeper than that. I’m enticed to look at things through other people’s eyes, or while standing on my head, or from the street, or atop a building. I’m addicted to the change in point of view. The catch twenty-two that says we only ever get to behold some tiny percentage of what there is to see. For every experience we live we only feel the things our own prejudices and biases let us. That no matter how many things you try, each brief glimpse only scratches the surface of what is really there.
When you change your mind, you get to relive all of that again. Be surprised again. Think things are funny for a first time. Relive the precious state of not-knowing. Wu.
The best is seeing something from inside another’s head. Strapping on their faded converses or leather thongs or silk shoes or bare calloused feet. I think this is why I want to travel, why I want to teach, why I’m incurably romantic.
At the same time though, we might be defined by our biases. So where am I?
I am the one who is hiding child-like wonderment at the rain or the sound of a violin. But I’m also the one orating self-obsessed diaries to empty electric halls. I should get out more.
