little things.

It's hard to stop-- to let myself think-- that's why I don't drive. I enjoy the reflecting time I have on the bus. The bus is like a surrogate psychologist. This smelly, air-conditioned, sack of germs and dreams. A place to think, scope out society, and see how the outside world within my confined route has changed. It changes each day.

For some reason I have this fear-- well not necessarily a "fear"-- but dependence on looking down at the keyboard as I type. But it's stupid really. I should just learn how to type correctly. I can't though-- and it's not like I look down all the time. For some reason-- I can type my name, e-mail, passwords-- all without looking. I guess I just don't want to lose time somehow. I guess looking down at the keyboard and up at the screen keeps my eyes in shape and guarantees a certain sense of efficiency.

Why not get it right the first time? I don't have time to feel for those little bump things on the "F" and "J" keys-- is there a name for those bumps?-- there probably is. Someone thinks of every thing. There's probably a blog about it.

And why not look down on occasion? I have friends that don't look down when they type and spend most of their time backspacing and backspacing until they find the right keys. However, I do get a thrill when I don't look down-- it's like playing a game-- a game to see how far I can get typing correctly when not looking. I guess I know where the keys are-- like a toilet bowl or basketball hoop-- I just have to work on my aim.

The same goes with my speech-- people try to correct the way I speak-- this goes for the way I act too. I guess I blink a lot. I can help it I guess-- but can't help-- I don't want to change, just let me function. I'm not doing it intentionally. Besides, I like to think that I speak in my own accent and that my true friends understand me-- or understand that they don't understand.

I wonder if being overweight makes me shorter. I wonder if my legs would be straighter if they didn't have that extra thirty or twenty pounds sitting on them. Would I still be the same person-- would half an inch change things-- what about an inch? Does knowing this potential give me confidence or make me feel regret-- well, I'd have more time not thinking about it. But I think I think the way I do because of the way I am-- so the question is-- do I want to change the way I think, by changing the way I am?

It's the little things that can kill you. The little things have their own way of eating up what you thought you once knew. Their power stems in numbers. The big things get fixed. They stand out-- we dwell on them-- but the little things get pushed aside, forgotten-- rarely fixed or pondered. That's why it's important for me to think about the little things. It's within the little things that I can find where I grew, changed, evolved-- learn what I've learned-- realize who I am. We're far too complex to stare at the bigger picture-- the little things make us us.