Boy am I behind.
I spent the last two days pursuing a dream of mine, at least pursuing a possibility; that I could turn years of dreaming into a paying career opportunity. So I have neglected my posting for a couple days. I have no idea what the future holds, but I do know that I’m looking for inspiration from every possible crevice in my life at the moment. And hope.
After working on the computer through the night, I took a shower alongside my trusty iPod speaker:
- To redirect my thought process, from undue worry to anything else
- To find inspiration on what to write about today
- Shower dancing – the only exercise I’m getting since I’m on the computer at work and then again when I get home
I realize my iPod is full of the music I handpicked, so I am likely to find things I like most of the time. I should be able to say “all the time”, but I have those random albums that I have on my iTunes that I don’t necessarily enjoy, I simply feel as though I should have them. Who am I trying to impress anyway? Will a Rolling Stone editor review my playlists one day and judge me for not having all of Bob Dylan’s albums? No, and I only truly enjoy a handful of his songs, so I should just uncheck the rest of them, sync and move on.
Getting back on track, I took my shower and put the iPod on shuffle. Songs jog all sorts of thought and I had hoped to find something to give my tired mind some mental peace. What I found was countless songs that seemed to speak to my hopefulness. It seemed every song was speaking to me about making a change or finding solace in knowing things were on an upswing. I’m certainly not down in the dumps, but I’m at a point where things need to change and I need to utilize my talents. It’s terrible to feel like life is being wasted, when I know I have so much more to offer and give.
I was kind of stunned that my Ipod was reading my mood. I realize there are genius settings that select certain types of music and playlists, but it hasn’t been the first time that I found the sounds I needed without scrolling through. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m reading too deeply into one of my best friends, a hunk of metal that is the size of a deck of cards. It doesn’t even remember my birthday, but it does supply me with hours of happiness.
And don’t worry; it’s really not my best friend. But we are inseparable.
Mae East 