A writing job, but particularly I identify it as career, leaves me ample opportunity for lazy mornings, stuffed up kitchen sink, just organized and marbled floors with a swipe.
The muse, however, inspires me. Today morning, I thought to throw a fit but just not my nature. My work does not involves unique characters. I in general identify with a concept. For my own sake, I draw examples to validate them. These are then, not mental musings but poetry.
What is it that could impel me to think about the life in terms of it? Should I be opening a sequence of a story telling a mystery or plot every day?
But then I am living alone, being unmarried. There are few days when I do not think of my parents, nieces, nephew, and sisters in terms of mutual communication. Strange having no desperate commitments to go outdoors, events deadline (except online submissions), and chance of someone visiting me at home, the occupying terms became strangely visible.
We do not ask ourselves awkward questions like what if you meet an alien when you go out. To refute at this point was unnecessary however. So as I completed the morning chores, the autumn sunshine came up at an angle on the wall opposite to me. Prepared myself for work and filled the details in my head. I gently reminded myself that a new series have started on Epic Channel which I would not like to miss. I checked the schedule online and noted it down. Perhaps, another week and another episode missed would have given me this chance.
Beautiful things happen, per chance but everyday joy is discovered in the company of light, of positivism.
A pure symphony there it becomes, no more arguments for another moment are left, a pure joy. A life like this, simply I am living.