Saturday, May 05, 2007

Toxic Girl

Today I encountered three separate moments in which I could step outside my body and see what it's really like to be me. Perhaps they were caused by excessive studying, or even lack of sleep.
Either way, it was bizarre.

The first proof came while I was studying in my bed. From my position, I could glance to the left and see my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing my square red glasses, perched low on my nose to further facilitate reading. My plaid pajamas were still on me, and my hair was skillfully crafted into a loose and mostly falling librarian bun.
As I glanced at the mirror to tuck a few liberated hairs back into my bun, an odd little voice-- not my own-- gave me a brief commentary about the girl I saw.

She's reading about Napoleon, drinking Ovaltine, and listening to Regina Spektor-- and she likes it. How nerdy is that?

I saw the girl tidy up a few strands of hair, saw the hand move to straighten the crooked chignon-- but could not feel the fingers brush my face. It was surpassing odd.

"That isn't nerdy," I told the voice, "it's normal!"

Feeling a little embarrassed, I looked down at the textbooks and papers scrawled across my lap, littering my bed, and blowing gently in the rain-strewn wind from my open door.

I saw pages and pages listing the differences between Lenin, Trotsky, and Stalin, a picture of an elf wearing roller skates that I had drawn several months ago, and the protruding corner of a note with the words, "fanatical Jacobin Friar" scrawled hastily in the corner.

Who is this girl?

Glancing out the window, I notice an odd little bird perched nonchalantly on the balcony rail. Its markings are unfamiliar to me and I jump-- yes, there was air between my feet and the ground-- out of bed and sprint to the computer to learn more about my strange little visitor.

"Ah ha! A red-winged Blackbird!"

Oh no... Did I just say that out loud?

It is fortunate that no matter who comes and goes in our lives we will always have ourselves to keep us company. Considering the fact that I feel comfortable conversing with myself, have brain hallucinations, and am content to gaze out the window and bird watch guarantees I will never be lonely.