Jury Duty

But then again, I was thinking about this post before I was called to jury duty.

 I've been thinking lately about the fact that there are more than two sides to every story. There is obviously my side (the important side!) and there is your side. But there will always be other people's outside views on what they see/hear/feel/think. It bothers me a little. I think because I want to know exactly what people are thinking (here I am, of course, thinking about things relative to my life). I want to know what people think about the things (however random) I say. The things I do. I want to know because I want to be perfect. Yes, I said I want to be perfect. And I know how stupid that sounds. But I want to know all of the facets to the story of my life, and I can't. I cannot know these things because I can only live my side of my life. Am I making any sense at all here? I want to know why I've lost some of my friends. I want to know their side of the story. I want to know what I said/did/implied that made me the "bad guy". I am rolling my eyes right now. I am not the bad guy. I have been, yes. But really, I am only trying to live my life. And if I kick someone because they are lying in the road I am crossing.. Well, it's only because I am in a hurry to become the whole me.

 I've always wished I could see through another person's eyes. (I don't want to walk in their shoes because I'm pretty sure they smell bad.) I want to see the world differently, sometimes. I want to know what a complete stranger is thinking about when they see something that *I* think is beautiful/amazing/ugly/terrifying. I want to understand things that I cannot possibly understand. And I know that I am rambling. I want to know how someone could possibly listen to a Tori Amos song and not find it haunting and beautiful. I want to know why someone can listen to and make any sense at all out of rap. I want to *know* these things. Really know them, feel the truth inside of them.

 And I had jury duty this week, and it made this come full circle. I know we come from all walks of life. But it amazed me how this one story, this one night, could have so many different sides. There was the girl. There was the boy. The neighbor. The police officer. And there is the baby. And there are the outsiders. We hear the story and we all make up our own versions of it. I guess this is why I read so much. I can read a book and the story I read will be different than the one you read in the same book. This fascinates me. And it terrifies me. Right now what terrifies me is that this is not making any sense at all, even to me. I have to make sure Sophia is still breathing, because that is my job. To keep watch over my perfectly healthy little one. Maybe that is why I am so tired. And why I cannot understand my own rambling for once. I will fix this.