One - My hair has gotten so long that I thought something was crawling on the back of my waist. In a valiant effort to kill the offending and no doubt deadly creature, I rolled off the bed and onto the floor. It was the clarity of pain and the brush of hair across my arm that made me realize my error.
Two - I have been singing along to Amel Larrieux’s “Make Me Whole” saying the wrong lyrics for over a decade. Instead of “the spirit flies when I say your name,” I’ve been saying “must be replies when I say your name.” For the record, I think my incorrect version is spicier. Think about it. My version is simultaneously more and less holy than the actual lyrics. You know, like the angels are agreeing with me? Should I just say wink-wink or insert an emoji?
Three - I plan to never reveal to anyone that I threw myself on the floor while fighting my own hair and that I once again incorrectly heard lyrics.
Every so often we all need to be reminded that we are ridiculous, all of us. It’s part of the human condition. You know what else is part of the human condition? Desire.
I want. You want. We all want. I want to run away to the Hudson Valley or some coastal New England town and write the day away. Write about the books I read, shows I watch, art I see, people and places that exist only in the dark and light spaces of my mind. I do all of these things some of the time. I want to do all of these things all of the time. Here then is my question: How do know when it’s time to leave behind what you know to grab hold of what you want?
Funny enough, this is the same question the protagonist of my long suffering “novel” is asking. We both need answers. Send them my way, and I’ll share them with her. She really needs a boost. At the moment, she’s walking home from soccer practice, a slight limp marring her gait. Did I mention the sudden downpour? She’s not stuck; she’ll be home soon enough. Me, I’m still standing in the rain trying to figure it all out.
Currently Reading: Full Disclosure by Camryn Garrett