(I wrote this as part of my friend Lynda's senior thesis. We're writing about ourselves and creating a theatrical piece based on our experiences, which we're performing in a few months.)
I am a freak.
I love sleeping but also hate it because the thought of missing things terrifies me. And I don't mean oversleeping for class or work, as much as missing experiences or moments that can never be reenacted. When I wake up in the morning, I always think about all of the conversations or exciting things that happened while I was asleep. I love moments, and I love singling them out and acknowledging them, but I find it hard to live in them at the same time. I always say things like, "This is such a great moment," but, often, instead of appreciating it for what it is right when it's happening, I envision myself in ten or twenty or fifty years, looking back on it, and think about how that will feel. This is especially true at this point in my life, my college years, the so-called "best years of your life," as everyone says. Last week, I had a series of absolutely amazing days. And all I kept thinking about was how these were the moments I would look back on with nostalgia in my thirties.
My dream is to live in a little cottage by the woods with only books for company. And maybe some animals that wander in and out as they please. I'd live near a lake and spend my days taking walks and being one with nature and writing and thinking, like Henry David Thoreau. He's kind of my hero, in some ways. But I also have another dream, in which I travel all over the world - on little to no money - and have adventures and make music with strangers, like in the video "Nantes" by Beirut (that video changed my life. It was like watching a dream I never knew I had come true). It makes me sad that I can't have both dreams, which makes me wish I had two lives that I could live simultaneously, so I'd always have my fill of solitude and companionship.