Categories: uncategorized
Date: 22 June 2006 13:20:24
I realized that my life can have been gold.
I always used to think my life was unutterably dull. I always knew people who had done more things, read more books, owned more records, lived in more countries, played guitar better, owned more guitars (well, ok, maybe not), seen more of life than me. So I always thought I had nothing worth telling.
It's still true, but after having moved a lot I now know it doesn't have to be. Each time you move to a new country or a new town, you meet new people. And each time you have to tell people about yourself all over again. The same things you've told so many times before. And they change in the telling. They evolve. You don't want to say exactly the same words over again because you've heard them before (even if the person you're talking to hasn't heard them) and so you pick different words. And different words inevitably mean something slightly different. There's no intentional dishonesty, but what you say now leaves a different impression to what you said the time before, or the time before that. And over the years you find that your humdrum life has suddenly become something of interest. Something worthy, perhaps, even of a blog. A wiblog even.
And which is the most accurate version of your life? The one where you downplay everything or the more interesting version? Is it even possible to ascribe some meaning to that question?