ink.

People call me many things these days, and i’m glad they do, for they helped me improve my vocabulary quite a lot (although i’m not sure in which way knowing 5 synonyms for the word geek is going to help me in life, but i’m still grateful). However, in 20 years of fragile existence i have never been called old, or ancient, or outdated, or whatever (nevertheless, i refer to myself as being oldskool, but that’s a different matter). Well, not until today, when i turned 20 years 4 months and 1 day. To put you in context, somebody at school couldn’t fail to notice how clean my Converse trainers were, and after proudly declaring that i did in fact wash them, i had to answer a flurry of rather rude questions (not that i mind them, truth be told).

you cook

you clean your shoes

you never come to parties because you’re always reading

you take notes

just

what kind of student are you?

I don’t know man, a good one?!

I do have a record of evasive responses, but i think this might be on the top of my list.

The problem with me is, i’d rather be old than starved. Intellectually challenged than physically. Etc. Maybe i’d make a good mother, i’m not keen on finding out that part. Even smart as a whip as people think i am, i’m still having fun, so just stop worrying about my clean shoes.

On another note, i’ve always imagined people gravitating towards each other in concentric circles. Most of them manage to reach the centre, while others feel more safe at extremities. What the centre people don’t seem to understand is the fact that the others are not really struggling to get where they are. What the centre people fail to see is the fact that the others act as their life buoy, even though at some point we all drown, one way or another, for that floating idea of safety in numbers is a mere deceit.

(Marty: Thirteen. But I have an old soul.)