Another Life #32

A few months ago, I started writing a song. A few lines came to me, melody and lyrics, and I wrote them down, hoping someday I could write a full song that I wouldn’t be embarrassed by a few years later.

That dream belongs in a different life, one where I actually learned to play an instrument instead of making a half-hearted attempt at guitar and piano before abandoning them (entirely by accident, but clearly a choice was made). I can still sometimes hear accompaniments in my head that I’ve come up with, but I have no way to bring them to the world where anyone but me can hear them, because I can’t play any instruments.

I kept up with singing, from an early age all the way through college, because it came easily to me, and someone else was paying.

Unless you’re the rare, ridiculous prodigy, learning any instrument takes work–at least, to get to a point where you can do anything good or interesting with it.

That song I began, I could just turn it into a poem, but it doesn’t feel right as a poem. And I don’t really write poetry anyway.

In one of many other universes, it actually became a whole song. Would I actually be proud of it, if this were that universe?

Advertisements

The Day I Wish I’d Had Today

I woke up around 8 o’clock, feeling pretty well-rested. I smiled as I slowly pushed my comforter over to one side, thinking of coffee.

I took my time to brew the coffee just right, put together an omelet with roasted red peppers, sliced up some mango, and took it all over to my computer. Breakfast is never complete without the internet.

An hour an a half later, I finally finished my coffee. It is the perfect amount of time two drink two mugs full. Coffee and leisure go so much better together than coffee and obligation: this makes everyday life somewhat unfortunate, as people grab a coffee to go sit down at a job that they find often boring at best, and rarely exciting or desirable.

A nice hot shower completes my long wake-up ritual. I know I’m taking a little too long to decide what to wear. By now it’s about 10:30, but that’s ok. There’s still plenty of time left in the day.

Unfortunately, I need groceries. Better to take care of that now, or I’ll end up putting it off even longer. But I only really need a few things, so it won’t take too long. I grab the essentials; stuff for breakfast, fresh fruit and vegetables, and some kind of dinner protein. I will admit that I really like returning from the grocery store, when at last I have lots of fresh food on hand.

If I leave quickly, I can make it to a mid-day yoga class. I grab the essentials and head out the door. It’s still kind of rainy, so I jump on the bus to get there, which means I’m earlier than I expected. I stretch for a bit and settle down on my mat to wait. Yoga is calming and allows my concerns about what happened yesterday or the day before to go to the corner and think about what they’ve done, until I have time to deal with them. I feel nice and centered at the end, hoping it would last at least a little while after I got home.

Lunch was the priority after I reached my kitchen, of course, so I made myself a salad with my fresh groceries, tossed with a bit of olive oil and lemon, and consumed it enthusiastically with a lot of water to drink.

When I was done I felt like lying down, but I wasn’t in the mood to nap. I worked a little on organizing the piles of stuff that I haven’t had a chance to address for too long.

Apparently I’m having a REALLY good day, because now all I can think about is writing. I decide to take my computer to the cafe down the street so that I won’t be tempted by the distraction of the internet. A cup of chai to keep me company, I start typing away. I don’t really know if any of it’s good. I’ll have to read it later and decide. But I’m writing, and that makes me happy. I make words. Being creative feeds me so much more than the things we always do to waste time, because our brains get so exhausted just trying to get through this world that we have no energy left to create anything. Letting myself be entertained is the easy way. It’s just lazy to do that instead of create. And to some extent I do need that break for my brain, but I think, like most people these days, I take it too far. How amazing it feels to be able to just sit and write.

Several hours have passed. Time for a late dinner, a short workout, and then maybe I’ll do some more organizing and read a bit.

*None of these things happened today. Today is not a good day. I have been so frustrated lately, and I feel like I don’t have the time to do the things I really want, and when I do, I don’t have the energy. I want to be able to stop time. I don’t care about the extra aging. People live too  long anyway. I’d rather have enough time in a day to feel like I can actually get things done.

Another Life #27

What if the version of you that exists in one universe has to be miserable so that you can be happy  in another reality? And what if you’re the one stuck in the unhappy existence? Would the balance be trans-universal, or contained within each universe itself (that is, which makes more sense)? Is there really a balance at all?