actuality.log


Tuesday, November the 20th, 2007

I’ve spent most of my day with this woman whom I can only describe as… me. Sure, she’s a woman. Sure, she’s attractive. And sure, her life path has been strikingly different from my own. But the entire time I was with her, every word that escaped her lips could just as well have emanated from mine. The similitude of our outlooks, aspirations and mannerisms was uncanny; she even pats her pockets—counting upto four each time—to make sure she’s picked up her keys and the lot every time she rises to her feet!

As amusing as it is to observe two grown people patting their bodies in tandem as they get up, the experience was not weird. (Who doesn’t enjoy hearing themselves talk?) I just found it very surprising: I’d assumed that the state of my life, and my mind, were unique to me. Or perhaps, I’d just convinced myself that things would automatically be very different if I were an elegant woman.

Then again, I figure if two kids from the same family and social fabric can differ by night and day—as most do—then a couple from half-way across the world can be spitting images of each other. It makes just as much sense.

Whatever the case, it was a blast. Sometimes, you just need to be reminded that you’re not the only one.

This is a printer-friendly version of the journal entry “Unforeseen facsimile” from actuality.log. Visit http://emphaticallystatic.org/earlier/unforeseen-facsimile/ to read the original entry and follow any responses to it.

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