Still awake, I am trying to convince myself of my own mortality. It's the only way I can think of to make myself tired.
Sometimes I think about what I was almost named. I wonder if this is a common fixation. I used to think about it obsessively when I was really young. I would imagine how different I would be if I'd been an Evelyn or a Victoria, and somehow it was always a matter of my favorite colors changing, since that seemed the clearest indicator of personality when I was seven.
There is a strange man in a striped shirt and pressed pants taking photographs of my apartment from the street. I don't think he can see me. It becomes creepier if he can see me. All I can think of is Raymond Carver's "Viewfinder". I don't see any hooks where this man's hands should be, but I don't have a very good look at his hands, either.
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I have always wondered if things would have been different if my Mother's choice prevailed and I was called 'Verity'. I always find it hard to imagine having another name though and end up quite confused in my attempts. Verity reminds me of a girl that was in 'Brownies' that was very tall, she wasn't very pretty, and she had a large mole on her face. She always reminded me of a Giraffe. I'm not sure why.
ReplyDeleteI like this post. It got me thinking. =]