Last week I was playing hookey and writing over lunch;
this week I am playing ‘office manager’ and writing.
Over lunch.
The only constant is change but all changes have a constancy to them.
This thought occurs to me as I ponder my chosen past times and how all life weaves around me as I sit static in my scribbling solitude, listening to a new instant favorite song.
I hope to remain here forever, ravenous for all there is. All of it.
Smiles on the faces of strangers, smiles on my face as I take them in.
Smiles on my face as music enters me so deliciously,
Smiles on my face as I am consumed by thought.
I am thinking about imagination, and how I am thankful for mine.
Sure, it can be and has been a most vexing curse, but as with everything there are multiples sides and angles to explore. For instance, I feel that my life will have a more secure foundation (the parts I am allowed control over, at least) because I don’t feel the urge to break everything down that I’ve built up for the sake of finding what else there could be.
I don’t feel that urge because I know what else there is out there. I can imagine it, extrapolating an idea out of real and fictitious references, and for most intents and purposes that is perfect.
In fact, I can objectively see how my imagination has grown into as close to a tangible being as abstract thought can hope to be. How many drives have I taken in the past six months with only my stereo for company? In the past year? How many times have I had plenty of friends to go see but I didn’t feel like seeing any of them? The answer to those questions points easily to the conclusion that my imagination if a great friend of mine, a friend that keeps pace with my light speed thoughts and whims and never causes me worry - at least not of the petty variety.
Through my imagination I can be anyone at any time on my way to anywhere.
I can know anyone I want to in any and all of the ways that I want to.
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