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Thoughts and Ramblings

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The Forgetful Man

15 Thursday May 2014

Posted by kanec004 in Uncategorized

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Tags

Aups, dementia, france, old age, scotland, wine, writing

 I met him within the first three hours of landing in France. I’d just set down my one suitcase in my apartment, and decided that now was good a time as anyway to explore the small town, I had decided to make my creative prison, so to speak. Fighting jetlag, I wasn’ts particularily keen about my decision, but it was only one in the afternoon and although I’d been awake for almost twenty four hours, I still couldn’t go to sleep.

So I headed to the center of town, stopped at the first café I found, and sat down. A Scotsman was sitting to my right and noticed me immediately.

“I’m Stevie,” he said extending his hand to mine, before I had completely sat in the chair.

“Cait, just got here,” I said.

“Here as in the café, because I can see that, or Aups?” he muttered and then took a sip of wine. He was quite “refined.”

“Aups,” I replied. He flicked his hand up, as he gestured to the waiter.

“Une rouge pour la mademoiselle,” he says in a perfect French accent. The waiter hurried away and brought a glass of wine to the table. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, I had a stash of Marlboro, that I brought with me.

“So they kicked you out did they,” he said as he motioned towards the cigarette

“Nearly, I actually came here to finish a novel,” I said.

“Fancy yourself a writer? I guess the young are allowed to have dreams,” he said as he downed the rest of his wine and once more motioned to the waiter.

“I suppose,” I replied not feeling like defending myself at the moment. I sat with him for over two hours, and learned that he was from Scotland, he loved the queen, and he thought that Julie Andrews had the voice of a fallen angel.

I left happy that I had made a new friend and passed out in my loft. The next day I was up early and went shopping for food. I saw Stevie across the street and waved at him. He waved back, but didn’t seem to remember me. I figured he probably had to much to drink the day before, he looked as though he might have been eighty.

Several days passed before I saw him again. I was sitting at the café answering emails and watching youtube, when he walked up to my table and asked in French, whether he could sit with me. Of course I said yes.

“I’m Stevie,” he said with an out reached hand. Its then that I realized he didn’t remember me. He may remember the past, but the present is covered in a fog that’s impossible to discern.

“Cait,” I said, not wanting to embarrass him.

Most times we talk, it’s about memories. He never mentions what he did that day, but he loves to tell me of the old days. When he worked in London, and had a secretary, when he was important.

 

I see him every day, but he never remembers me. Stevie, I promise I’ll never forget you.

 

*Names changed

The Quarter Life Dilemma

13 Friday Dec 2013

Posted by kanec004 in Uncategorized

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Tags

art, grad, millennial, NYC, post-college, quarter life, twenties, writing

Quarter Life

 

Feeling of regret, loneliness, lost, hopes dashed, dead end, no goal, want to leave home, but no good way to do it, relationships, the few successful classmates, questioning whether to pursue art.

 

            Clearly, this is a cliché topic to begin with, but it’s the only thing that has been on my mind for the past few weeks. Graduating college last June was a moment I had been waiting for since the summer before my freshman year. Let’s just say the whole college thing didn’t particularily work out for me and because of many reasons I ended up at a local college, literally only five minutes away from my childhood home. So while all of my friends said bon voyage to the Valley I stayed stuck in limbo at my parents house. All that kept me driven, during the four years I spent there, was the hope and promise that I would make it out of my hometown at the end, and finally be able to begin the dream life I had imagined for myself ever since I saw the film Rent in high school.

            I’m here now. I made it to NYC. I made it into an MFA Program. And I’m working on a novel. The trouble is I need to find a grown-up job to feed these dreams. Ok it’s not that I don’t want one, but its pretty freaking hard to find one. What scares me though and what I could never say to anyone in person is that I’m scared shitless that my dreams won’t come true and the run of the mill job I’m searching for and hopefully will have in a few weeks will ultimately be the only reality I’ll ever know. My life will be insignificant and my parents were wrong every time they have told me that I’d impact the world. Wow do I sound like a stereotypical millennial right now… 

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