The music doesn't move you, doesn't soothe you
Doesn't prove you're worth a dime
You work 'round the clock, watch it tick and tock
But this isn't your time
Move over son, it's my turn to shine
I've been thinking a lot about silence lately, ever since someone told me that I am insecure in the quietness of life. Funny, because I always thought I cherished the in-betweens, thriving taking a step back to acknowledge, observe and imagine. But who knows what people actually think you do, or do not, do or are. It's such an impossible feat. But it has been caught in my mind, the space above that so many things run from day to day, minute to minute. There, it's not so quiet.
I cannot believe its been a month and a half since I left my job. I fret over the fact that I am still in the in-between, the restless calm where many would enjoy but I cannot stand. You have to be optimistic, I tell myself, that there's something out there. I am thankful for the small realizations that I made the right decision. Like Friday. A form of vindication, I'd say. But I don't want to get ahead of myself.
It's amazing the types of things people do on a daily basis. I find myself in offices, helping out, a temporary place for me to pretend I belong. I wonder if these people are happy with their professional lives, if that is even a reality in this day in age. I tell myself to be optimistic, that there's a chance that one can live off their dream. But there can be hiccups, and there's no reason to be insecure.
Pat and I watched The Diving Bell And The Butterfly this weekend, and I found myself rejuvenated to write. That I have this ability, this chance to express through words is something not to be taken for granted, and while it has been quiet here, I have been thinking, formulating just what to say. And then here I am, without much to say at all. It's a strange moment when you realize that this thing, the very place you bear your soul, is nothing but a page spun within the millions. And yet even so, it still has a profound effect on the exposure one feels.
I have a feeling I'll look back on this time of my life, and if I ever write a memoir, this chapter would have a terrible title. In less than a month I'll be turning 24, and one day I'll laugh at how naive I was, how there many more awkward silences, and in-between's to come. Until then I'll be listening to Jaymay's debut, Autumn' Fallin', which brings back a certain memory of much easier times.
