Thoughts on Foothill Drive

Took myself to lunch today. Just the way I like it. Actually, I’m sitting here at the table waiting for my food right now. I put my phone away so I could just enjoy my mind and the things around me. I’m surrounded by gossiping people. Literally each table I tune in to consists of one person telling a loud story with a snarky voice and flailing arms, with the others at the table either trying their hardest to look like they’re listening when I know their minds are wandering the way mine does, or listening to the story with a wide mouth and a common “noooo, really?” My favorite snippet I heard was “Yes, he said that. And in MY Sunday school class!” Utah. That’s all I have to say. But, somehow I love it. I find it so funny the typical Utah people. Just, Utah. But, as I was sitting and soaking in my own thoughts it occurred to me that I talk to myself more than any one else. And I love to. I am my absolute favorite person to talk to. I ask myself what I think about things, I pride myself on my deep thoughts, and I laugh with myself because our humor is identical. You see, just the same way I could see that the lady next to me didn’t care one bit what her dear friend was rambling about, I can tell when someone is just being polite to me. I can tell in an instant someone doesn’t find interest in what I’m saying and that’s why I don’t share things or express things to people. But, I still have that itch to express my wonders and thoughts, so I get it out through and to myself. And that’s independence I suppose.

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