are you a speculator?

The hour is before midnight and I am lost in the cobbled streets of Paris. The Amelie soundtrack has transported me there. Last night, I fell asleep to the timid eddies of strings and the diving, pulsing ripples of the accordion. Tonight, I will fall asleep to the timid eddies of strings and the diving, pulsing ripples of the accordion. 

I ought to read for my classes tomorrow, but I cannot stay focused. I feel like resting and listening and speculating and drifting. 

A friend left me a note today on the Facebook; on my Wall (of all places), she stated that she is going to reevaluate our friendship. I am not ruffled if she is serious, I am not ruffled if she is joking. She and I are not the friends we were in elementary, middle, and high school. We are different. I am different than I was when I wrote this sentence. I think the inconsistencies of the self are beautiful. We are ever-changing beings. How can anyone be exactly the same all the time? I have migrated (literally and figuratively, I guess). I believe that some people grow in parallel lines and others become perpendicular. There is one solid commonality... but everything else has changed, whether it be positive or negative (that's for all you math nerds out there). 

I like the process of whittling down. There are a few individuals who I care deeply for, as comrades, as kin. Their ages span decades. Some individuals I have known for many years, some I have known for one, and some I have met in August. Fancy that. These people know me better than others who have known me since... who knows when. I love that they know me. I love that I exude who I am so strongly that they cannot not know. I love that they exude who they are so strongly that I cannot not know them. 

Some people are really special.