Wednesday, January 7, 2009

The Waiting

And the waiting begins. Its strange to be sitting among a perfectly random group of my peers. To think that there was a computer somewhere pulling people at random to be here today. Every archetype is represented. Who do I represent?

Not the young business man. No, that's him over there, looking sharp and collected, like he has other things that need doing. Not the slacker, that's him who just past, no question. Sweat pants and slippers, the whole nine yards. And you can see it in his eyes, he doesn't want to be here the most... Maybe not the most, that girl looks so sad, as if it were she herself on trail today. Where's her badge? Can I just not see it from here or was she dragged here on the other side of the bench?

Maybe I am the token nerd, the young and anti-social. I am, after all, writing this. Would it make me cool to just sit here and be bored out of my mind like everyone else? Ah and here we have the suffer dude, in complete regalia. Beanie, knit sweater, sandals and an Ipod a hairs breath from falling out of his back pocket. Complete with typical longish sandy blond hair. Well... it is Malibu, after all.

It would be nice to fit in so simply with an archetype. I'm just another guy, hard to pin down. A bit bigger then the rest maybe, and in need of a hair cut. Simple pants, nondescript sweatshirt, modest shoes. The guy who should have shaved this morning but there just wasn't time. The guy who writes because there's nothing else to do, but still manages to misspell "wasent" every time. Find me in a crowd and maybe you would forget me just as quickly. I don't stand out, but I feel like I am so far away from these people.

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