I haven't been sleeping. Been wandering the streets of the Whitaker at night, getting to know my neighborhood again for the umpteenth time. Lots of nooks and crannys, lots of sights and smells.
There's been periods-a few months at a time, maybe-when I've felt as though my life was sort of...meh. Bland and uninteresting. Whatever the opposite of novel is-I've had those days and weeks and months. And that's OK, it is.
But lately (and I'm going to abandon my usual cryptic nonsense here for this post...which is in itself, perhaps, cryptic and nonsensical. Ourouboran, I am.) each day tops the last, and my hours and minutes and moments are just crammed with the extraordinary. There's a double rainbow in the western sky when I come to work in the morning. My coworker and I talk about Daisy Bell with a customer who knows all the words, teaches it to us...and then the three of us sing it among the lettuce and the radishes. I have no fewer than three people cry on my shoulder and my couch in the space of a few hours.
It's not for me, you understand. But I get to be there to see it, get to appreciate the significance of all these events that are everyday, but not the least bit quotidian*. I lead a charmed and magical life, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Even at the cost of a few hours of sleep. It's cheap at any price.
So I'm well, tired, troubled and pleased. I have a big heavy plate at the moment. And I will bring the best of myself to bear.
*I'll be straightforward, but I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my $10 words. You can pry them from my cold, dead Broca's area.
There's been periods-a few months at a time, maybe-when I've felt as though my life was sort of...meh. Bland and uninteresting. Whatever the opposite of novel is-I've had those days and weeks and months. And that's OK, it is.
But lately (and I'm going to abandon my usual cryptic nonsense here for this post...which is in itself, perhaps, cryptic and nonsensical. Ourouboran, I am.) each day tops the last, and my hours and minutes and moments are just crammed with the extraordinary. There's a double rainbow in the western sky when I come to work in the morning. My coworker and I talk about Daisy Bell with a customer who knows all the words, teaches it to us...and then the three of us sing it among the lettuce and the radishes. I have no fewer than three people cry on my shoulder and my couch in the space of a few hours.
It's not for me, you understand. But I get to be there to see it, get to appreciate the significance of all these events that are everyday, but not the least bit quotidian*. I lead a charmed and magical life, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Even at the cost of a few hours of sleep. It's cheap at any price.
So I'm well, tired, troubled and pleased. I have a big heavy plate at the moment. And I will bring the best of myself to bear.
*I'll be straightforward, but I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my $10 words. You can pry them from my cold, dead Broca's area.
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