Kitty Power

The Fit

The rain makes me melancholy. Not that it's a state I'm ever truly far away from.

What seems like forever ago, Farmer and I had this surprisingly frank yet chill conversation about what we wanted our dream person to be like -- the unsaid being "what I'll move on to when I'm finally done wasting time with you." I said that I wanted most of all a spark, someone to make me excited and intrigue me instead of just drifting towards them because the option was there. His response was so much simpler: "someone who just fits me." It says a lot about the differences between us. I've got control freak tendencies under a type B personality surface. I like to make lists, weigh options, plan. Where he just does what he wants on his own terms. He wanted to drop out and move to Florida and he did. Occasionally, I say that I want to do something similar, but I know I never will. I can't consciously live life in freefall mode. I have to be working towards something -- figuratively at least.

I've found myself starting to wonder if Farmer really has the right approach, especially since that's what always ends up happening to me anyways. To just go with what fits at the time instead of wanting every piece of the criteria to be met. To take the science out of it all and simply drift until I find something that just feels okay.

I'm too impatient to ever really commit myself doing that though. I want my fit on my terms because there's a voice in me that says when I left it all up to chance before, disaster struck. The Continental came along when I was so preoccupied with my article (and its relative thesis failure) that I was a bit more open than I should've been. Mr. Sailor when I tried to unsuccessfully transfer the fun of a NYC summer to the woods of CT. Farmer literally got the jump on me when I forgot that sometimes you have to be on the lookout for other people's motives. And what came of those? Shit, shit, and more shit. I think bitterness is creeping into my heart because I feel like so many shit people (one with the alias of S.C. comes to mind near the top that list) have their fit, so where is mine?

I'm too young to be so cynical. I blame the rain.

Posted by Candicissima at April 13, 2004 04:58 AM