Disclosure: These are all blurry thoughts written on a piece of paper throughout my day. Usually I write all sorts of random things, because it stimulates my writing at work. This day was when I decided I would give these random words a shot. It only seemed fitting that I would share them here on the blog. Hope I don't loose you along by blabbering way...
I woke up with a desire to write. Not type, text or Instagram. But that old familiar writing. As many call it: journaling.
Los Angeles woke up the same, though. As every morning it does. A chill in the hazy air, traffic building up on Ventura Boulevard, and dog owners taking their furry friends out for the first walk of the day. As my alarm played the all too familiar "Darling it ain't easy" wake up song, I turned around to face my world: Chris pressing snooze for the second time and Lady the dog climbing on top of his head as she does every morning. It's a ritual. Nothing out of the ordinary except for one thing. My gratitude for being able to be here. Awake. Experiencing another day. Today I didn't want to get out of bed. Not because sleep was keeping me from jump starting my day. On the contrary, everything I wanted in my day was was right here. At my fingertips. With sleepy faces, good mornings and the subconscious feeling of belonging. I could stay in that moment forever, but the kettle was calling, as was my early meeting.
As I gathered the courage to slip out of the warm covers, the carpet welcomed my disgruntled feet and gave me that extra strength to face the day. Funny how things are. I complain about the carpet we have in our apartment every single day, however come morning it never fails to comfort me as I take my first step into the outside world. Dealing with L.A traffic, server errors and deadlines can be overwhelming. I'll take any kind helping hand. Even if it is the old stinky carpet.
By seven forty five I opened the front door to my office and turned my laptop on for it's first breath of fresh air. Went through my email to find out I was no longer require to attend the morning meeting. Thank God for my stinky carpet, sleepy faces and dogs ignoring human boundaries. After that I went on with my day.
Eleven twenty is usually when the countdown begins. Forty minutes until lunch. Two hours for a well deserved coffee break, and four until home. However, today felt somewhat different. Even though office life continued as it normally does, my head was somewhere else. I'm sure I am not the first person to escape reality and immerse myself in another world. But today felt unconventional. Yet totally familiar, and this compelled me to write down my thoughts on a torn piece of paper. I was in tune with myself as I haven't been for quite some time. With that, the words started coming to me easily, helping me recreate what I had just experienced on the outside, translating the reaction on the inside. Being comfortable in your own skin is never an easy thing. You think that after years of living in the same body you would be more in touch with your inner self. But it doesn't really happen that way. At least not for me.
A pause for coffee break and small talk by the Keurig machine. It was two thirty after all. There is something magical about coffee encounters in my opinion. People always seem to be more polite during afternoon coffee breaks. I have this thing with coffee. I can never just drink a cup of coffee. It has to be accompanied by some other activity. Usually it's some kind of snack, but today it was written words. Usually it's food though. I'm not sure how it all started, even so if I had to pin point a reason I would go back to my childhood. Coffee drinking in Brazil is a very serious matter. It's not taken lightly and for the most part involves a gathering of some sort. And when people come together they generally eat, drink, and talk. Or all the above. In my family there is always a lot of talking. However, this time around, I skipped the office chat and returned to my desk. Then eventually to the blank pages of my notebook. Sometimes you have to give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Maybe all the random words in my head, once written down, will actually make sense. No guarantees though.
Four pm comes faster than predicted. Every day its feels the same. It's like the clock ticks slower before three, and once it finally creeps up to three thirty five, it runs around like Louis Carroll's crazy white rabbit yelling: "Oh my ears and whiskers! I am late" gotta go, gotta go! I close my email and my laptop. Gather my notes, neatly organizing them for the following day. Say my "good night" and "see you tomorrow" and off I go. Gotta go, gotta go, to face L.A traffic at it's worst. But at least today, I'm at my best.
Hope you come back soon,
M
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