So everyone talks to me all day long. Which is fine, because I totally dig conversations… except when I don’t and I just want a minute to be in my own head. It’s fun and quiet and nobody judges me because I have coffee stains on my sweater and…okay…maybe I don’t exactly match. I get moments of quiet when I walk from the filling room to my desk in the open space I share with three other people. But then I see them and because one person makes eye contact with another, dialogue inevitably follows. So the only moments of quiet are in the walks to the bathroom (which I sometimes don’t need to use but say I do so I can walk around and think) and when I head to the filing room and back. And also in the filing room but then someone spots me and they’re bored and don’t want to work so they figure a five or ten minute conversation won’t hurt. And it doesn’t. Like is said, I totally dig conversations.
But sometimes I want to say to them, “don’t you know you’re interrupting my genius right now?” Because they are. Because they pop their head right into my thought bubble when I’ve just come up with the perfect line that I couldn’t place last night and now I have to run and find a piece of paper or a sticky note to write it down before I forget it. But they won’t let me leave because they have to tell me about the funniest thing their dog did last night and I’m trying to listen but really I’m just repeating the line over and over in my head so I don’t lose it. It’s not their fault. They don’t realize I’m conducting my orchestra. It’s ongoing with a million intermissions like stoplights and cell phones and people wanting to talk about the cute things their pets do, but as soon as they walk away and I’m in that glorious solitude again, the music starts up and I’m the Maestro, waving my little stick thingy, constantly conducting.
So, yeah. Quiet is really important to me. That’s why I like walks. To the filing room, to the bathroom… to my car in the dirt lot. And especially to Lonnie’s, this *amazing* deli sandwich shop I treat myself to every Friday. It’s two blocks down from my office which means two blocks of pure silence where I can think and process and review and listen to the music in my head. And then, I get to eat the most amazing combination of foods in a single sandwich that I found at the top of the menu the first day I wandered in. For real. First thing listed. There was no point reading the rest of the menu because I’d found the winner.
Welcome, folks, to the Sunny Bird:
This sandwich is Awesome-sauce-Amazeballs-Totes-McGoates great.
Normally this is a solo adventure for me. Obviously yesterday was different because I’m not so amazing that I can take a picture of myself eating. It would be cool if I could but alas, Batman took the Bat-mobile and met me for lunch so you can thank him for his capturing this moment of true pleasure. You guys have no idea how good this sandwich is. It’s fucking delicious.
But it’s little things like a really good sandwich or a quiet walk to the bathroom that make my day. That’s sad, isn’t it? Well it shouldn’t be. Because life is made up of a whole bunch of little things that are really, really great.
Like I remember driving to high school one time with coffee (yes, I drank coffee even then. I’ve always drank coffee. Probably why I’m a hobbit) and I must’ve hit a bump or something and the caffeinated liquid flew from it’s container like a brown tidal wave of terribleness and I was wearing white. FML. This was going to suck.
…but it didn’t. Because the wave of coffee landed DIRECTLY on my seatbelt and my seatbelt alone, slimly missing my white shirt and saving me a scream from the anger and scorching heat.
Screw the seatbelt—I was saved. And it’s little things like this make life so awesome. You might think, “but you still spilled it. You still ruined your seat belt.” Okay Debbie Downer, way to point out the negatives in a totally awesome moment here. Because these shitty little things are going to happen all day long every day and it’s up to YOU to find the silver lining. Like not spilling coffee on your white blouse and having the most amazing sandwich after a peaceful two block walk when it’s been a fucking stressful Friday. Or getting that line of dialogue you needed even if someone’s preventing you from writing it down. Because you still have it and that rocks. Things are going to happen—people are going to distract you. That’s life. But it’s always better with a really good sandwich a belt of protection.
Writers, just make sure you carry paper and pen with you EVERYWHERE. That’s what I do.