Hearing Voices?

Sometimes the injustices we’ve suffered keep recurring, over and over, long drawn out, fretted over, seemingly as illusory and incredible as the original. And in that moment of remembrance I can sometimes picture that cretin wearing exactly the same outfit breaking into the current scene, reenacting their role, with only my role better played.

* * * * *

Voice: Why didn’t I say that the first time?
Answer: How should I know? You didn’t, is all.

* * * * *

Not all moments of remembrance are fraught with angst. (Somewhat less frequent, though.) I remember the day I turned 30 and all around the agency, down the hallways, in the kitchen and the boy’s room, the walls were littered with blown up pictures of me with some of my more colorful sayings tagged underneath. Some of them were indecent (these were kept to the creative’s floor), all said in jest, and all on public display. I don’t know who’s idea it was, but it continues to warm my heart. Thanks.

* * * * *

Voice: I had some pretty good lines, eh?
Answer: Your “I’m the one who does the undulating in bed!” line (in reference to water beds) was totally, completely, utterly inappropriate.

* * * * *

Regrets are also a popular theme. Like not taking the year off to travel across Europe between undergrad and grad school. Or leaving academia and a free ride to Ph.D. because the career was calling.

* * * * *

Voice: I knew I’d never be happier than when…
Answer: And so it was…

* * * * *

Of course, the most painful of all, far and away, are our stumbles, embarrassing moments, being caught red handed, being found wanting (and with good cause).

* * * * *

Voice: How could I have been so stupid?
Answer: Are you still humming that tune?

* * * * *

As for myself, I’d rather take succor at the breast of inner awareness, be aware that I am aware, than at the many teets of that sow ego identification.

* * * * *

Voice: I remember when…
Answer: Their all just moments in time, self. Wait ‘til you taste what’s cooking.