Saturday, August 30, 2003
Doctor's Blog
Stardate 26.08.2003
*****
The grey noise, dirt and grime of London feel strange after my sunlit sojourn to Scotland. I scan the ebbing tide of passengers getting off the Flying Scotsman for a last glimpse of the Mystery Girl, but she's nowhere in sight. I laugh to myself, thinking ruefully that she could have got off the train at any point during the numerous stops we took, between Edinburgh and London, and put her out of my mind.
Walking home, I reflect upon the strangeness of my life, and how chance has often reared its head, trying desperately to persuade this cynic that things do Not happen for no reason. That, perhaps there is something called Fate.
Chance meetings.
Chance birthdates, six months apart to the day.
Chance electives to the same hospital.
Chance thoughts flowing along the same riverbeds, turning into the same words in conversations. Incomplete, but completely understood smatterings of conversation.
Chance dreams that mirror each other.
Head bowed, deep in thought, I cross a busy traffic junction.
If this were a movie, I would be run over suddenly by a passing car and die instantly in the impact. Or perhaps tragically in an "ER", or as we call it here, a casualty.
Instead, I think to myself, Try Harder Fate! If there truly were no chances, I'd look up now and catch a glimpse of Mystery Girl. How unlikely would that be, meeting her on a pedestrian crossing!
I look up from my thoughts, and walking beside me is the Mystery Girl.
We part in silence.
Try harder, Fate.
If you really want me to believe, you make us bump into each other again :)
It means nothing to me, you understand. Except for the sheer bullheadedness of this entity that I do not believe in, trying desperately to change my mind.
If you really want me to believe, I will meet Her again, someday.
How unlikely would That be?
An online acquaintence today postulated that perhaps my head is telling me one thing, but my heart is really hoping for another.
I think not.
Stardate 26.08.2003
*****
The grey noise, dirt and grime of London feel strange after my sunlit sojourn to Scotland. I scan the ebbing tide of passengers getting off the Flying Scotsman for a last glimpse of the Mystery Girl, but she's nowhere in sight. I laugh to myself, thinking ruefully that she could have got off the train at any point during the numerous stops we took, between Edinburgh and London, and put her out of my mind.
Walking home, I reflect upon the strangeness of my life, and how chance has often reared its head, trying desperately to persuade this cynic that things do Not happen for no reason. That, perhaps there is something called Fate.
Chance meetings.
Chance birthdates, six months apart to the day.
Chance electives to the same hospital.
Chance thoughts flowing along the same riverbeds, turning into the same words in conversations. Incomplete, but completely understood smatterings of conversation.
Chance dreams that mirror each other.
Head bowed, deep in thought, I cross a busy traffic junction.
If this were a movie, I would be run over suddenly by a passing car and die instantly in the impact. Or perhaps tragically in an "ER", or as we call it here, a casualty.
Instead, I think to myself, Try Harder Fate! If there truly were no chances, I'd look up now and catch a glimpse of Mystery Girl. How unlikely would that be, meeting her on a pedestrian crossing!
I look up from my thoughts, and walking beside me is the Mystery Girl.
We part in silence.
Try harder, Fate.
If you really want me to believe, you make us bump into each other again :)
It means nothing to me, you understand. Except for the sheer bullheadedness of this entity that I do not believe in, trying desperately to change my mind.
If you really want me to believe, I will meet Her again, someday.
How unlikely would That be?
An online acquaintence today postulated that perhaps my head is telling me one thing, but my heart is really hoping for another.
I think not.
