My calling

I am stuck. Again. I want to get my writing out there. But I have no idea how to go about that. It takes a focus, assertiveness, aggressiveness and confidence that I am lacking. It’s a real problem.

Plus I hear that if you want to get your writing out there, you should probably write, which I have not been doing much of lately. That seems so unfair. Sometimes I think that the best writers have never written before. Maybe they don’t even know how to write or how to type. But there is something in them. And it deserves to be read.

I guess you can apply that to anything. The best people are the ones who go unnoticed and unseen. But they do not lack presence. It just doesn’t come across very well on online dating sites.

__________

The mirror has not been kind to me of late. Every time I look into it, I see this old, frowning face. I don’t look like the type of person I would want to say hello to. I guess my coldness, my numbness is reflected in the mirror. What do I look so cold and unfriendly? And old? How did that happen? The lines grow deeper. How does a person become this kind of person? How can I be different?

I want to be different. What I am is not who I am.

I’m trying to think of something notable to tell you. Something notable that happened to me.

I pet a dog.

I ride the elevator

I talk about the weather in the elevator

I text my friend

I stare at Facebook

I read the news

I drink coffee

I pay the person who serves the coffee before I drink it

I order a chicken salad sandwich

I thank the person who made it. I pay her too.

I ride the train.

I ride the subway

And later that day

I ride the subway

And then take the train

I take a nap on the bathroom floor, ignoring the people knocking upon it

I vape

I try to look busy

I worry

I am easily hurt by people I see everyday who never stop to say hello

I try to feel something unprotective

I fail

I apologize

I ask

I answer when called upon.

I am not called upon.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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