There's another blog I keep, a self-indulgent blog, that I try to keep as far away as possible from this one. I journal here when I feel I've mastered something; or at least learned something; and I log it down both for my own sake and because I hope my synthesis of some new idea or trend or observation will be useful. I started off by explaining that the girl writing this blog is the girl in the mirror; or, more precisely, the girl that I want osee in the mirror: someone old enough to know things but tender enough to be open to new ideas and new worlds. She's confident, knows a great deal about a great many things, and is hungry to learn more about just about everything; she enjoys sharing what has has verified in hre research and her opinions.
Is that me? That's me on a good day, when I just run my fingers through my hair and without further ado get on the 19 bus in defiance of the Knightsbridge dress code; I feel as though I can hear the thoughts of everyone on the bus; I overhear conversations and entire life histories flash before me.
On days like thig one I write pages of self-analysing drivel in my othe blogs: the kind that only a bored, neurotic intellectual could possibly produce; or have the time to produce, or think it worth the time to type in. On days like these the Girl in the Mirror taunts me, makes me bury my head in my hands.
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A girl lost in a hall of mirrors. Reflections, ideas, images, stories, music, navigation, and the occasional noble thought.
