Funny how Fridays lose their allure when all the days feel the same.It's noon. I've been sitting at my desk for two hours now willing a dose of inspiration to fall on me from the sky - or at the least the fifth floor. I can hear Toby softly sighing as he curls by my feet, his tags jingling every time they touch my wooden floors. And there's this sweet smell of incense seeping in from my neighbor's walls. Someone out there is listening to R&B, but it's so low I can't make out the words. Still, the music sounds soothing, romantic. He must really love her. I move closer to the window, but the passing planes make it harder to hear.
It's 12:05 PM. Other than the steady stream of travelers overhead, it's incredibly quiet - for New York City standards anyway. Toby's gone off to the bedroom to snuggle up on the shaggy rag he's recently adopted as his own and here I sit, still, listening and thinking with a plate of toast crumbs and an empty mug to my left and pen and paper on my right. I wish today were brighter, busier. The calm feels odd.
I realize I'd grown used to the bustle and stress. The constant motion of city life. An impatient car honks on the street below. Ambulance sirens break their way through the traffic. A closer plane zooms on by. Speed and forward. A need to be propelled somewhere, anywhere, and get rushed along with the rush surrounded by everyone and no one.
The unexpected stop sign made me slam on the breaks and look both ways before proceeding. I could choose "carefully" or "with wild abandon."
Today is not like yesterday. Today is Friday. And it's incredibly calm right now. Perhaps a whirlwind will soon follow.
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