To all appearances, I'm not too deep a thinker. Truth is, I'm not. I miss a lot of incredibly obvious things that should seem like common sense to most people. Or, maybe I don't give myself enough credit. I do think about some things sometimes when I'm doing something I can ignore, like listening to music in my room, mowing the lawn, or driving. In fact, I was driving the other day (yesterday) while listening to Harsh Krieger. I like it (Harsh Krieger) well enough. I know someone who went to high school with either the guy named Harsh or the Guy named Krieger (no relation to me).
I like music while driving because it gives my mind some background noise. If I don't have music, I get irritated more easily by stupid and careless drivers, I lose focus more often, and it's just not as enjoyable.
Anyway, I was thinking, as I sometimes do on car rides, of life. To all these people on the sidewalks, riding their bicycles, to these people coming toward me on the road, to all these old farts that I get stuck behind in a no passing zone, I'm just another driver in another vehicle. To me, they're just another person going about their business.
But I wonder... What are they like? What experiences in their life brought them to where they are now? Just like I'm on my driver's permit and driving with my mom, what brought them to this spot? Are they simply going to the grocery store? Are they going to work? What do they do for work? Do they wonder about the people they drive past? Are they wondering about me? Would we have been friends, had we the chance to stop and talk to each other?
Then I pass them.
Just like that, that person is out of my life forever.
Each face, a memory.
Each memory, forgotten.
I like music while driving because it gives my mind some background noise. If I don't have music, I get irritated more easily by stupid and careless drivers, I lose focus more often, and it's just not as enjoyable.
Anyway, I was thinking, as I sometimes do on car rides, of life. To all these people on the sidewalks, riding their bicycles, to these people coming toward me on the road, to all these old farts that I get stuck behind in a no passing zone, I'm just another driver in another vehicle. To me, they're just another person going about their business.
But I wonder... What are they like? What experiences in their life brought them to where they are now? Just like I'm on my driver's permit and driving with my mom, what brought them to this spot? Are they simply going to the grocery store? Are they going to work? What do they do for work? Do they wonder about the people they drive past? Are they wondering about me? Would we have been friends, had we the chance to stop and talk to each other?
Then I pass them.
Just like that, that person is out of my life forever.
Each face, a memory.
Each memory, forgotten.
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