The Long Forgotten Buddhist Geek
I found this while cleaning out my room Monday evening. It was written during my last year of college, and I have decided to leave it as is, without any editing. I wrote it while sitting at a Starbucks on campus as it was happening.
I can see you through the glass rocking your mustard yellow jeans. Hipster. I appreciate it. And then apparently you see me, in my white tee and hiking boots. Not a rather sexy look, but apparently it’s working for you, because you just waltzed in and sat down at my table. And then BAM! The first thing you decide to tell me about yourself is you’re a Buddhist. Not any kind of Buddhist. A Buddhist Geek. Stop. Get up and leave. I am not interested. But instead of conveying that, I start to speak. With an accent. It came out of nowhere, I swear, but I can’t stop. It’s so weird you’ve noticed. And what do I blame it on when you ask me? “Oh, I’ve lived kind’ve all of over.” This is a lie. Except for four years of my life, I have lived in New Jersey, and I’ve never been to Pittsburgh, which is what I’m pretty sure this accent is evocative of. I’ve decided to ignore you, because you’re not going away, mustard man.