You can’t be blue.

There was once a time that I could sit and listen to the same album over and over. A few come to mind more than others, Pink Floyd had an amazing one called “meddle” that I could sit and listen to until my ears grew weary. Something about the melodic tones and the fact that it wasn’t main stream The Wall business that everybody else thought was the bees knees.

I’d listen to it, of course having favorites, but one song sticks out still to this day, Echoes…

“Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can”

It special enough that I would song along without even thinking twice as to what the philosophical meaning of it was, or really if it mattered. It does matter, and it does make sense, at least to those who struggle on a regular basis with self identity.

You see, meeting a stranger in the street is no different than looking into the mirror with a distortion of ugliness and bad self perception. In most circumstances you’d probably feel safe talking to a stranger in the street than actually taking the time to see what your own self talk is. By self talk I mean what you really think, not what you think other people want you to think.

If you were, however, to happen Upon yourself in a street and realize that it’s actually you talking to you (sounds bizarre) would you talk the same way you would as if it were somebody else? What do strangers actually give to us as far as self development goes? Are we really just longing to be all the strangers we see in life.

Tough enough, I’m struggling, but keeping my head up, when those lyrics came to mind. It was a crucial moment, due to the fact that I was being greeted by an old friend of mine, on that  may not have gone on a few dates with me. This in fact was awesome, I saw him, I saw his new wife and wiggling baby. I don’t want any of those things. Although that attractive young lady was kind of in a position that I could have found myself in, she was still a stranger. I didn’t want to be her.

I did, however, want to ask her a bazillion questions, not to be nosy, but to learn what it’s like being married with a child and such. Being married to that particular individual must make her pretty happy, and although she is a stranger to me, she is like me, but different.

Cut the ramblings short, I think if people were to take a moment, set down the preconceived notions of right and wrong looks, behaviors, attitudes, etc, and find out what’s really going on behind the scenes, the world would be a more interesting place.

I for one am struggling, not only with self, but with my car. He’s intent on becoming an E36 M3 in estoril blue. As much as I try to tell him no, he doesn’t get it. Then I realized it’s just like me wanting to be gorgeous, but I just don’t get it. He’s a 30 year old car that has issues, I’m a 30 year old girl that has issues. We go well together, although, I don’t want to be estoril blue.


I want to be beautiful

I want to be beautiful


One thought on “You can’t be blue.

  1. I told ya and I told ya, cars are FEMALE. Trucks are male, as long as they aren’t pseudo-trucks like Rancheros or El Caminos, but cars are definitely female. Maybe that’s why your 6er is blue….you gave it a boy’s name and it’s a girl.

    As for being an E36 M3, maybe. I miss being able to toss a car into a corner when driving my E24, but I have the E30s and E36s for that. Enjoy the big coupe for what it is….a really comfortable, really fast 30-year-old car with more charisma than any E36. Now if we could just fit a 5-speed in your 6er….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s