Sitting or Standing

1. View life through the eyes of the creative and through the uncreative.

2. What is the animal you’d choose to live your last three days as? 

3. When did practice fail to make perfect?

I wake up to the sound of my alarm, beeping and buzzing again and again. I step out of my bed into the same spot that my feet first touch every morning. My toothbrush is in the same spot I left it yesterday night, the previous night, the first night I got that toothbrush. I hear a song play in the background. I listened to it yesterday. The tune sounds just like that one that was playing last week on the radio, the same familiar melody melting into a multitude of musical confusions. I sip on black coffee in the same mug I always have. The familiar crunch of buttered toast rubs against the roof of my mouth. Pleasant. I start my blue Camry and cough at the exhaust that burns my throat each morning. Man, I should really get around to fixing that.

Mumbled voices, flashing lights, foggy memories that all fade as soon as the roar of my alarm shocks me back into reality. I roll my body over to the other side of the bed, indulging my last few seconds of half-sleep in the lumpy feathered comforter. My mind separates into tectonic plates of unattached thought. You know, I think I’m having déjà vu again. Didn’t I dream last week that I was salsa dancing with that unknown grey face? No, it couldn’t have been. Last Wednesday’s zebra-bodied dream kept me laughing for hours. Rolling, rolling, rolling right off of the bed and onto the unforgiving floor. Oops, maybe I’ll be more graceful next time. I accidently kick the stack of new books I bought last week as I leap through the room and into the kitchen. Aromatic bliss creeps through my nostrils like sneaky little mosquitos. What am I to do next? Why work when I can tear apart my living room looking for that book I never got to read, trying out new recipes, or doing everything at once while doing nothing at all?