Windows

Windows

yesterday i spent the day adjusting to my new room in the apartment i will be living in for the next four months. my shoulder was throbbing because i fell asleep on it weird on the plane ride over to hawaii. so for about three hours i watched netflix and laid on my bed until the pain went away. whatever show was playing on my computer became a subtext in my thoughts. i started staring out the window. and i just stared and stared.

            the building i am in stands adjacent to another building, much taller, but with all glass windows. most of these windows are shut, with blinds hanging closed in front of them. others are shut with the blinds open, yet no movement behind them. and a small handful are open completely, and full of life.

i started thinking about my own window.

                        and what people saw behind it.

probably just a glare from the sun. or a glimpse into an irrelevant story narrated by yours truly. but what i realized was that, on either side of this window, there is a new perspective.

            all day long, i was feeling a minor anxiety about being back in hawaii. about running into someone i didn’t want to see. and for a while, i thought i might just stay in this room and look out the window for the next four months.

                                    but i am not really an introvert.

                                    and i’m not really shy.

                                    and i’m not really afraid of too many things.

                                                            except chickens.

                                                                                    i hate chickens.

but for the rest of the day yesterday, i sat in this room and did absolutely nothing but let time pass and let the wind blow through my open windows. and think about the people looking in and myself looking out. and i thought about a strange coincidence i’ve lived with since i first read Gatsby back in 2003, and nick carraway understanding that simultaneously he could be both within and without. now, i know i’m not the first person to relate to a popular story such as The Great Gatsby, and it may seem cliché or over-talked about at this point because of the film or whatever. but nick carraway holds a special place in my heart as a writer. the dual perspective; seeing things from both sides of the window.

            what i’m getting at is that i could sit here and look out at all these people looking back at me. but if i was one of those people, and i happened to look into MY window and see a young man on the brink of self-discovery, just lying in his bed moping about his sore shoulder and broken heart, i would find a brick, and throw it through his window and tell him to stop being such a whiny bitch.

            and that he is in hawaii for four months and may never be back.

                        so get off his ass and go do something worth living for. 

this is both my literal

                   and metaphysical

window 

          of opportunity.