Amber Run

Moments. We all have them. It's in those moments where we are a pile on the ground; mentally stuck in the fetal position. We find ourselves in this awkward state for periods of time. This time may be lengthy or short. But we consistently find ourselves there. Alone. Afraid.

Then we hear something: encouraging words, gentle promptings, motivating melodies, or even the hum of everyday life. And we wake up--even if it takes a few times.

These somethings vary. Tonight it was the gentle music of Amber Run and a good conversation with a friend that nudged me enough. Enough to coax the "little ghost" of insecurity and doubt far enough away from holding me down.

And I began to rise. Not of being but of mind.

Moments. We all have them. It's in these moments, we become something more. We do the seemingly unbearable. And conquer the awkward fetal position.

"I found love where it wasn't supposed to be."

Future Insane Asylum Attendee, right here.

Staring into the great abyss of nothingness. I most often find myself doing this at work. There are days when customers don't permit me to enter into my dream-like state; being the holidays, I'm in this despair quite regularly. But again, there are those days where I can visually fly away into the corners of my mind. What do I think about, you may ask? Frankly, this is the conundrum of the century. As I look over the bridge of my nose, I dose off. My vision blurs and in this moment, I think of absolutely nothing. Such a feat is normally incomprehensible for a person of my gender. Any one can attempt to get my attention, but to no avail. It is almost an awkward  silence until a fellow associate rudely interrupts my bliss with a customer anxiously awaiting my acute abilities to extract and place contacts from one phone to the next. How rude. Clearly my non-existent thought process is more important than your ongoing communication with the "friends" you have whose names are only identified by a series of numbers. Who's to say they're real anyway? 

So I reluctantly exhume numbers once lost and yet again, allow myself to go to that distant place of peace and freedom. Although, maybe isn't either of these. Maybe it's more of an escape from the tedium and stress; maybe it's a stifling of problems like dust under a rug. I don't know what it is; but this much I do know, it is out of necessity. If I didn't have my moments of drool-worthy stares, I would most likely be admitted to an insane asylum. 

Isn't that ironic? 

8 Ball Confessions and Folding Paper Fortunes

Wouldn't it be nice if all of life's most difficult decisions could be simply made with an 8 Ball or a folding paper fortune? Life would be so much easier.

I think of all the times I was on an awkward date and the guy says something along the lines of, "this was so much fun, lets do this again." or "can I kiss you?" It's in these moments I wish I could just say, "Can you hold that thought for a second?" At which point I would pull out my 8 ball, ask it, and proceed to shake it. Most of the answers swim to, "Not likely," or "My sources say no." The answer would leave the boy so dumb-struck, I would have a chance to escape.

Another thing we need to bring back is the game of M.A.S.H. This was a harmless game--or so some thought--that we played as kids. It would determine your entire future based on the number you chose and the handful of people listed on the column for the opposite sex. In a meager 10 min, you would know what type of establishment you would live in, to whom you would marry, how many kids you would have, what your career would be, and what type of car you would own. Ten. Minutes. No hesitations. No preconceived notions. Nothing. Just pen and paper.

...Apparently you can play it online. Is that what the kids are doing these days?


At any rate, I love the idea of leaving all of my responsibilities behind me and in the "hands" of a fortune telling device. Because let's be honest, being a kid is so much easier.