"Listen to me now." "Now is not a good time." "Now is all I got." "You do not get me now." "I need you to listen to me." "I need a moment alone." "Why do you walk away?" "To hold on to my calm." "Hold on to my hand." "You are crushing it. Let go!" "Pay attention to what I say." "Why should I? You are not."
"Seer, what impression did you get of my boyfriend? Is he the one?" "I can tell by the nervousness in your voice that you know the truth, my child. You desperately want him to be the one, but your own insight is stronger than you think. Trust in yourself. His palms were sweaty when he shook hands with me. His voice sounded impatient like he had somewhere more important to be, but I think it was anywhere but here. I also heard a note, just a shadow really, that suggested he has something to hide. Do not trust him. Trust yourself." "Thank you. Oh how I wish I too had been born with your insight." "You have. As I said your insight is strong within you, but your vision obscures it. Focus within." "Thank you, enlightened one." As the door closed behind the girl, I heard it catch before it had fully closed, and the familiar sound of my best friend's body movements caught my ear. "Welcome, Serena. Sit down. Let me brew some tea." "I am sorry, I cannot stay, a client is coming, but I had another vision from a parallel universe that I had to share with you right away." "Oh? I am all ears." "In this place, there were others like us. But in their society mainstream and normalcy and average were revered, and so those like us desperately tried to fit in as much as possible. They wore progressively stronger corrective lenses in an attempt to restore their eye sight, and focused so much on it, that their insight was dampened at times even lower than average, even as their eye sight continued to diminish as well. Being like that was looked down upon, and dismissed as short sighted. Without their corrective lenses, the special ones were helpless like babies, stumbling against furniture in their own homes even, so focused on sight they had not honed their other senses at all. Some people still implied that they had a higher intelligence, though I cannot tell you how they arrived at that conclusion." "A truly disturbing nightmare vision. You sure you cannot stay for tea after all? You sound like you need it."
Went to visit her. Not there. But he was. One of the brothers. I remembered only one of their names, and wasn't sure whether he was the one. My inquiry was met with that cocky look that said without words, "What does it matter woman? You and I both know what I want from you. What I need." I hesitated briefly, unsure whether the mistress of the house would object. How open was their relationship? Was he allowed to have female visitors, while she was away? The bench we were on was hers, and I almost felt like trespassing in more ways than one. He did not let me finish that train of thoughts. All impatient male that he was. He roughly approached me, almost head butting me, showing me just how he wanted to be touched, all over his body, over and over and over again, from head to tail. If he had been female, they would have labeled him a slut. But being male and feline, he could definitely get away with it.
The big news of the day: it appears that the flow of time had been magically reversed for about half our population for part of the day today. From roughly 7am to about 7:42am murderers were resurrecting their archenemies and ex-wives from the dead, and ob-gyns were stuffing babies back into their mothers like stuffing turkeys on Thanksgiving. As I said, this happened for roughly half of the population. So how did the other half react to it? 63% of them didn't notice: too engrossed in their autopilot routines, the rest thought that 89% of the population had gone crazy (which strangely is a lower statistic than the usual 91%). The biggest problem of course was when those for whom time was reversed interacted with those who were still forward thinking. Mothers resenting that they now had to be pregnant all over again after labor, and murder victims glaring at their ex-murders now-redeemers who had prevented them from being reunited from their long lost loved ones who continue to rest in peace. But even that did not result in that much of a change if you really think about it: those who hated each other continued to do so for different reasons, and you had a bunch of homicidal pregnant women. It is reassuring really to find out that reversing time would not result in as many changes as you might think.
Cheating! This morning I am tempted to use writing I did a couple of days ago, and call it today's. But that would be cheating so I won't. So therefore we really need today's blog to step forward. Wake up! Rise and shine, muse. You're not a morning person? Well, I am not a night owl, so morning it will have to be. What? You say I am not calling the shots, that I should write whenever your inspiration hits me, and that you do not work according to a schedule? Well, I don't either, but I am stubborn. So perform for me muse. Dance! Now she is pouting in a corner. Holding all the inspiration to herself. Fine, I can write today's blog without your help! All I need to do is put one word after the other, and pretend they belong there, right? And if they don't, who will notice? All I need to do is put on my invisibility cloak, and then even if anyone notices how mediocre my blog is today, at least they won't see my cheeks red from embarrassment - or are they red from anger at you, my muse, for sulking? Wouldn't it be nice if we learned to communicate, so your words could flow through me, and I could understand your ideas without any spoken words, completing eachother's sentences? You'd start, and I would finish, or maybe I would start and you'd finish, or maybe you start and finish and I just fill in the fluff in the middle? I may be up to that kind of fluff this morning. Good morning, muse.
Forgive me my muse, it's been too long since my last creative writing. I have taken you for granted, and did not do my part. And we know all relationships require work, so I cannot blame you for leaving me. I really need your forgiveness for things left undone much more than for mistakes I have committed. Although I have been guilty of the sin of mediocre writing, but we both know it is better than just not writing creatively at all. Will you give me another chance, and move back in with me? I know I do not deserve it. But we used to have such a good time. Remember, when we were inspired by bible reading and fairy tales and dreams? The good old days. You may ask what has changed. Why should you trust me this time to not abandon you again? Well, I have changed. I am changing. Almost half a year has gone by since I started exercising every day, and I have kept that up, haven't I? The way I figure writing every day is much like my daily workout. Once I make it part of my routine, and become determined, and do not take being tired and uninspired as an excuse, we ought to be able to build some creative muscles here. So what do you say? Shall we give this another try? I have missed you, my muse.