So today in class I had to write for a certain amount of time without stopping. I mostly went from topic to topic in my mind and wrote them down.
People have told me that they want to “live in my brain for a day,” but seeing my thoughts written down, I don’t think they know what they would be getting into. No, I don’t consider myself Emerson or Voltaire. It’s just that I consider myself strange. My mom would call it uniqueness. No, she would call it strange. We’ve known each other a while, she’s honest.
My thoughts started pretty lame-ly. I wrote about writing—I know, original. Then I described my first experience in a piano practice room, which happened the other day. This made me think of shapes, because the floor is a trapezoid. Well, I think it is. I couldn’t tell exactly, I have never been particularly skilled in shape technicalities, especially those pertaining to trapezoids.
After I wrote about my musical experience, I started writing about some other stuff, and eventually I was thinking about how I will change in the next 10 years.
Have you ever thought about your life 10 years from now? I don’t suggest it. It’s creepy.
In 10 years I’ll be 30 years old. I will have horrible skin due to years of unhealthy sun exposure and skin damage. I asked myself what my mom was doing when she was 30 years old; she was going through her childbearing phase.
I used a lot of “caps-lock” while writing about this realization.
I couldn’t go on. I am 20 years old. I needn’t think about children of my own. I switched topics to thinking about the fact that hopefully in 10 years I’ll have an iPhone and get cool apps. Much simpler.