voyeuristic tendencies *edit*

Get your head out of the gutter.

For anyone who knows me, knows anything about me, has met me or seen me in the realm of the general public, it becomes quite apparent that I like to watch people. I sit on the balcony of my apartment after dark all the time – sometimes I read, I love reading out there when I can feel the breeze, and listen to the drunkards stumbling down 4th street on the way home from wherever they came from – but oftentimes after dark (not in daylight so much, because of the wasps that live in the rail…incidentally, that’s how I was aware spring was coming, because the wasps were suddenly back) I’ll lean over the rail, realize that I’m practically invisible because no one ever looks up that high and watch the people as they pass. I watch people all the time. I enjoy it, and I learn something.

Do you ever go to the mall, catch eyes with a stranger, and suddenly wonder what their lives are like? More often than not these days, I go farther than that, and find myself making up stories in my head about their lives, then amuse myself by wondering if I’m right. Sometimes you get instant gratification of your right or wrong-ness because someone that person knows will come up to them and start talking to them, and I have these little moment in my head where I go “uh-huh, I figured you out, and I was right” or otherwise “ooooh shit didn’t see THAT one coming”. I play these mind games with myself all the time.

I used to have a friend that would actually play these games with me and we’d place bets on people, or on stories we’d make up. Problem was the majority of the time, there was no way to tell who won or lost – we’d simply argue and debate our idea’s relevance and move on. I can be very persuasive.

I’m voyeuristic in other ways too…not to a perverted degree – well I guess it depends on your definition, and that is always subjective anyway. I like to watch people I’m close to. When you know the person and you’re watching them, its more real, and it’s a strange kind of intimacy. I was watching someone while out on break at work, just watching them walk by, a fractionary moment in a random stranger’s world, they were talking on their cell phones, screaming at someone then crying. It was very strange.

My internal monologue has a stutter. When Spike said that to me last week it was hilarious, and it has been made all the more funny by the fact that I realize it’s true. I used to have an actual stutter when I was younger – too shy, too quiet. I went years without speaking. Maybe not all at once, but I distinctly remember periods of time when I was afraid I may not remember how to talk, because I couldn’t remember the last time I did. It was strange after those times of silence to open my mouth and become reacquainted with my own voice again. Then again, our voices always sound different to us, in our heads, then they do if you, say, record them and play them back.

It’s not just people I like to watch – I like to watch pretty much anything. Love watching nature, even if there are no animals around – I like watching the way the wind moves through the trees, the way the sand moves around in the waves, I like to figure things out and make sense of them in my head. Although it’s funny, how much I like to watch things, and I’m still oblivious to so many things. It leads me into a conversation that I had with Patrick over coffee on Wed. night before I went to the world of Spike-ness. He said that I am so intelligent, so brilliant, so focused and aware that sometimes my mind comes up with problems because reality, and the tedium of every day life bores me. Its below me. It’s not like I intentionally create drama or anything – and certainly not all of the problems I’ve had are merely figments of my imagination – but that my mind works better when it has a problem to solve, a thought to hash out and beat to a pulp. I think he’s right. It made sense when he said it, probably not so much now, but he’s right. I’m always thinking of something.

Also, completely randomly but sounding just as perverted as the title of this entry, I think I have redeveloped an oral fixation. I used to have one, years ago that was bad, maybe the beginning of my OCD ness – but when I had my tongue pierced, I was constantly messing with it. Or I’d chew on pen-caps, gum constantly. These days I seem fascinated with my fingers. It only occured to me last night when I was watching tv, and went to reach for the cell phone to check a text, and realized that I had stuck my finger in my mouth at some point. Weird.

This is quite possibly the most random collection of words I’ve ever written. I’m in a strange mood right now…blissfully happy and blissfully impatient, excited, amused, and my head is going a million miles a minute. It’s good. It’s all good. And it’s almost the weekend, which is gonna be filled of beach, saltwater, sunlight and stars. I can’t wait.

*edit* you know…I was going to write an entry/rant of sorts of something that’s been bugging me. But you know what? Its not bugging me. It’s humoring me. Making me laugh to see the stupidity behind some retarded lies, the way the blame always shifts to the person that isn’t you…I don’t feel the need to correct, explain, or justify anything anymore. Not to her (the ex). Honestly? It’s gotten to the point where the ridiculousness is kinda funny. Who woulda thought?