I Still Feel Like This

More things that I wrote a year ago.
Sorry about this.

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I wish I could get into somebody else's head. I wonder if everyone wonders what other people wonder about. It's probably a natural thought process. Exploring the unknown, right? That's what it's all about in the first place. I want to keep a journal of other peoples' thoughts. I want to piece together everyone else's lives. I want stories and thoughts and sights and sounds and feelings and smells.

I live vicariously through other people. I want my own experiences.

The lives of humans are intensely fascinating, whether they be terrible or Kodak's perfect family snapshot. I love stories. I love to read everything that everybody writes, from a full-page confessional to art history notes. I love conversations where people let me subtly interrogate. Somebody said coffee in conjunction with three am and conversation, which just so happens to be my favourite combination of both words AND pastimes.
I love handwriting.

I just want to collect the world in a jar and keep thoughts written down in the big book of world thoughts.

I want to associate words with and between every person I meet.

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I want my chest pressed to your chest.

I'm 16 Years Old Again, Awkward and Shy and Unsure of Myself.

"I'm going to give you a new word, write about it." Perfect.

I come from Sullivan County, New York. Yup, where Woodstock was held in '69. Yup, a tourist trap near the Catskill mountains. I was a pretty happy kid growing up and turned into a pretty cynical, introverted person, but I can't give up on studying people. Of all of the interesting things in the world, right? I think people generally suck. I'm a pessimistic defeatist who tries to be optimistic.
Everyone is poor where I'm from. The schooling is awful and I'd bet good money you won't find someone without a vice. So where does that put me?
In this room in Rochester in a class that I'm not even enrolled in because I don't have the money to stay. Needless to say, back story is important.

So who am I? What do I want to do? Do I believe in altruism?

I want to believe that people are good. I don't know if I want to be a photographer. I want to experience life. Photographs are a way to make memories.
If I can share memories, I think I'll be in a good place.

I don't hate everybody, but I really don't like a lot of people. And there are gems out there. I want to meet with them and work with them and learn.
I don't know that I'm answering a question at all, much less answering it correctly.
But my life is at a crossroads. Educationally, intellectually and artistically. I thought I knew who I was and sometimes I find myself second-guessing.

My name is Rebecca Werkmeister and I hate tourists.
I love noticing peoples' habits but I can't interact very well.


I've been told that when I learn to perceive myself correctly that everything else will follow.

Some things truly do run in the family.

"I'm tireddddddddddd."
"So go to bed?"
"I don't want toooooooooo."
"Make coffee?"
"Ohhhh. That's a good idea! ... my knees hurt."
"Because you're so tall."
"Yeah... coffee... coffee fixes everything!"

Like the stutter I get when my anxiety is bad.
Like the sense of humour I have.
Like my sleeping patterns.
Like the fondness for photographs and for art, in general.
Like coffee at late hours of the night.