So this afternoon I’m in a cab, going to class, down Broadway. In the middle of a stoplight, this woman opens my side of the door and looks at me as if I’m going to be getting off. I look at her with, “What the fuck’s your problem?” considering I was blocks away from my destination. She’s not fazed. She says “Where are you going? I need to go down to Wall Street.” The cabbie tells her to hop in on the passenger’s seat in the front and she does. Several more blocks and I’m at my destination where I pay my fare and get off. If this were Turkey, I wouldn’t have been surprised a bit, but in a city where people don’t even look at each other in the eye, the entire experience was all too strange for me.
While writing the next scene in my novel, I started thinking about shrinks and how the relationship is so one-sided. Here you are pouring your heart to a person whom you know very little about. You don’t even know if this person is married or has children. They never relay any personal stories of their own, yet you sit there and tell them every little thing about your soul. You pay them to listen and, hopefully, give you some clues into your problems and ways to find resolution. I’m sure this is no news to anyone, but it just made me think today.
In my art class, we looked at different paintings depicting the same story. It was interesting to see how the same biblical story was shown in so many different ways. Actually, the similarities were more interesting. The pose in which a character stood over and over again regardless of painter or period is really fascinating to me.
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