WRITTEN ON A BLUE, BAD DAY...

i met somebody in a recent chapter of my life...trite story...boy meets girl...feel chemistry...boy makes girl feel like a queen...girl becomes devoted to him or at least to the concept of him...empties her pockets of her love currency...and waits...waits...for the next chapter to start, WITH the boy. Oh, yes, she is an independant, intelligent, resolved young woman...with a spirit and will to match...but somewhere she is so willing to be set up; so keen to give and not receive, so eager to create an emotional weave to their story, so bent on proving her idiocy to herself and the world. I wonder if this is the most often discussed, written, debated agenda in the world. Bet, it is...

Mornings are chaotic…they are stressful, laced with sudden crises, and bear a painful certainty that a velvety night is over…and a day looms...battle time…armory, weaponry, courage protected…long, raw, tiresome, and draining…yup, mornings are chaotic…uhhhmm…But, for the merriment of the early morning birds, who insist on conferencing right across my window… but for the melody of a raga …strains of which I catch from the neighboring house...but for the tender admonitions of my gentle mother, rousing me to the day…but for the crackle of the newspaper in my father’s gnarled hands…but for the strong, heady aroma of home ground, chicory coffee…but, sure…mornings are stressful…

my life is a compartment of sorts...my work life, my social life...and my "room" life...each so different from the other and yet so connected and driven by the events of each...a bad day at work life leaves me less inclined to catch up with a friend from my social life and leaves me in my "room" life with a drink, a book and perhaps a desire to broom out the cobwebs...

a happy evening in my room life makes me rise to a shinning sun...smile through my work life and giggle through my social life....perhaps the compartments and occurences not random weaves...but a design...of my life...