Musings

It's 3:00 pm on a Wednesday.

Wednesdays are a breaking point for most people because it's only two days into a week and two days away from the weekend. Not for me though. Wednesdays are when I'm left musing to myself.

I'm lying in bed staring up at a wall plastered with polaroids to my left and fairy lights strung up overhead. I'm listening to an obscure indie Nepali artist croon in surround sound and I've drawn the curtains shut. 

I've deliberated slipping under the sheets but I just did some spring cleaning and I'd hate to crinkle the blue bed spread. I think my cacti need to be watered but they're desert plants so I figure if they've lived thus far, they should be alright. I made Aloo Gobi for lunch and it reminds me of home and mum telling me I'd inevitably have to cook someday whether I like it or not. I need to wash the dishes and wipe down the sink but the winter chill has always contributed to my laziness so instead I  find myself burying my back deeper into the this no-good, on-a-budget futon.

The Nepali crooner is still at it and it's making a single tear well up in the corner of my eye. I couldn't tell you why. "Sad boii - hours" aren't for another 12 hours at least. I look back up at the polaroids and they take me back to each individual moment I have lived through them- the good, the bad and the ugly. I am grateful for all of them. They're tangible joy-imparting momentos. The thought of capturing and freezing so many more moments in time in a 2"x 3" rectangular canvas proceeds to blow my mind and I convince myself I'm a photography prodigy of sorts but then I hear the Nepali guy wailing on the open tab on my desktop and all sense of self-worth goes flying out the window. 

When I left home, mom said I had many eyes watching my every move. Some in anticipation of what the future holds for me, others waiting to see when I'd make a colossal misstep and come running home. I am determined to make a mark. We'll see how that goes. It's only 3:18 pm on a Wednesday. Far too early to tell. 

The music has switched tempo now. He's going on about how she's his entire universe or something, so I flip and flop on my bed until I am a hair's breadth away from my phone. She's constantly on a ventilator now that her battery keeps discharging, which successfully keeps me anxious all day. Don't ask me why she's a She. I add pronouns to inanimate objects now, it's my shtick. Anyway, back to the point. The phone- she stores all my texts. including one's from 4 years ago. So being the emotional muser that I am, I decide to take a trip down memory lane. 

I'm looking at archaic photos; I'm reading coy texts to a boy back home; I'm cringing at the emoji's I used and the facebook status' I put up last year. I'm glad I've grown up. 

It's 3:30 pm on a Wednesday.

The indie artist is crooning away and the fairy lights are still flickering. The curtains are drawn up but a beam of light catches my eye through a crack where the curtains conflux. It reminds me I have a kanji test to study for. 

That's enough musings for today. 

Until next time, 

Maria