Friday, April 6, 2012

scuffed sneakers.

Everyone has something that they notice in other people.  Before you think that this going to get scandalous, let me assure you that, if I am checking you out, I'm looking at your shoes.
I think you can tell a lot about someone by the shoes that they wear, tell a lot about their personality.  You can tell how much of a tool they are and how hard they try.  I can pick out the boys whose mothers still dress them.  I see the whole range of athletic types, and those who wouldn't know a basketball if it hit them in the face.  I can tell who is adventurous, and who acts like they are.  Personalities definitely shine through shoes.  I know, I know, you think I'm judgmental.  But let me remind you that there is a difference between being judgmental and merely being observant. perceptive even.

But after analyzing the footwear of my fellow classmates, I took a look at my own feet, my torn up, two-toned grey vans and asked, what do these say about me?  Well my shoes show that I give into fads (I mean, vans were all the rage two years ago), but I don't stress about preserving the fresh-out-the-box look.  In fact, I hate it when my shoes look too new, means they haven't been broken in, don't embody my memories or my personality yet.  These shoes are a clear documentation of the last 2 years of my life: they have a little sand in the bottom from hiking in the desert, holes from trying to climb in them.  They were once water-logged from getting caught in the canyon when a violent thunderstorm hit and it started pouring.  I've made them match almost every outfit I've ever worn (some more coordinated than others).  I've worn them on dates, worn them to class; I've taken them all the way home with me and back again.  I guess I hold on to the past, perhaps a little bit too much, and keep memories in the strangest of objects.

They say you shouldn't judge someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes.  Well judge me all you want because I'm not giving you my shoes. I like my shoes, like the way they fit around toes, perfectly broken in.  I even like the road that they are carrying me on.  So I'm going to wear my worn out shoes, keep collecting memories in them, and keep running forward.

Can you remember the things you have done in your shoes?  All the places they've taken you?

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