on omnescience

When I was little, sometime shortly after my grandfather died, I made the decision that I didn’t want to believe that he, or any deceased protective figures, were actually watching over me.  I didn’t think that under such constant surveillance I would come out looking very good.  And I wonder sometimes what someone would make of me if he or she were actually able to observe everything I do when no one is looking, or everything I say to myself, out loud in frantic half-whispers that no one either hears or understands.  Like the two little girls walking behind me on the way to the gym saying “Hi!  Hi!  Hi!” while I, having finally turned away from them, am shaking my fist at the air in front of me, imploring, “HOW MANY TIMES MUST I SAY HI??”

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