There is no introduction, no beginning, no conclusion or an ending for that matter, because I am always thinking. One thought melts into another, like a never-ending web of abstract notions.



I have lived in Weedsport all my life. I think I know a lot of people; and the village is painted like a vivid picture into my memory. Every house, every tree, every street sign; they are all too familiar. The strange thing is, I really don't feel as if I know the town at all.

Almost everyday I drive down the main road through Weedsport, and everyday I look at the same houses, and look into the same intriguing windows. And I wonder, who is inside looking out at me, as I drive by in our red minivan. What goes on behind all those closed doors? Are they like my family? Do they eat dinner together? Do they love, laugh, and cry together? Do they wonder about the same things when they drive past my house? I think it is peculiar how everything can seem so familiar, and yet I am oblivious to what really goes on inside all those houses I thought I knew so well ...



Sometimes I just sit and wonder who I will be in ten years. That is extremely difficult to do considering that I'm not even sure who I am now. Where will I be? What will I accomplish? Who will I know? Will I even look the same, think the same as I do now? It's all very mysterious to me. Is my life already on a set course that I cannot change? Am I on the outside looking in or is my life whatever I make it? When I am 25 will I think back to when I was 15 and say to myself, "This is who I am; this is me 10 years from 15"?

It's even harder to visualize myself at 80, 90 or even 100. My great grandmother just turned 103. It amazes me that she has already lived nearly seven of my lifetimes. Compared to her, I am a young sapling and she is a great oak who has been through many harsh winters and scorching summers and still lives to add yet another ring to her massive trunk. She has done so much, seen so many things, lived through so many times. I just think it is astonishing that she has already lived a lifetime of events and I really haven't even begun to live ...



I don't think it's fair that people get stuck with personalities that aren't their own. Don't get me wrong, I think it is crucial to have a certain character or else we as humans would have no identity; but where is it stated that one must live by the personality they attained as a child? It may sound confusing but it is really quite simple.

A certain eight-year-old is labeled a troublemaker by his parents, friends, relatives, and teachers. As that boy grows, he matures, and yet he is still judged by the way he behaved as a child. The same goes for an eight-year-old who has gained the reputation as a "perfect child." If that eight-year-old a few years later does something wrong that isn't typical of this nature, sirens go off and people say, "I can't believe he did that; he is usually such a good kid." The fact is that he isn't the same little kid who was just trying to please his parents; he is his own person now and he needs to find his own identity. If the trouble-maker were to do something right, people would wonder what it is that he wants, instead of accepting that maybe he isn't such a bad kid after all.

We are "given" certain personalities that may not be our own and we live our lives accordingly. What happens to the "perfect child" who just wants to impress his parents? He lives his life yearning to get out of control and always wonders who exactly he is because inside he knows that he is not the "perfect child" (no one is, of course) and yet everyone expects him to uphold that image. I guess it does seem confusing, but to me it makes perfect sense because I often find myself walking on eggshells, being careful not to upset the distorted image that many people have assumed is the real me ...



And the web continues ... c