I Drink Water and Write, but I'm Trying to do More of Both

The beginning of my blog journey.

I blink and I’m in my red Toyota Camry, gliding down the highway in sheets of rain and merging to the left, and the truck in front of me is white and the lights are all blurry. My eyes flutter and squint and focus on a glaring blue and red sign for Tesco gas and the unleaded price is 3.49.

Yesterday it was $3.85. Gas prices are going down.

My red Camry glides on.

The sign fades into my mirror and my vision is smeary while all the lights start to throb with a familiar rhythm. My alarm clock.

Do-dooo, beep. Do-doooo, beep beep.

I gasp for air as if I’d just risen out of a deep pool.

I blink. I’m awake. My body whips itself upright to reach over and turn off the alarm.

Stunned, I rub the sleep out of my eyes as my lungs expand and squeeze, sucking in the quiet air in my bedroom. It’s Monday morning at 7:25. My calendar for the day softly clinks into place in my head and I shuffle through the schedule in my thoughts, looking for something that I thought I’d be excited about.

Nothing piques my interest, but the sun shining through the cracks in my blinds hints that today might hold a bit of warmth.

Routines Tell Me Things About Myself,

like for example today, I am more tired than usual.

Clothes go on my body. The toothbrush shuffles over my teeth. Sink water splashes on my face and the mascara slips in my hand and ends up on my eyelid, so I swipe a q-tip over it and wipe it off in a flash.

I’ll wonder about that slip for the rest of the day, wishing I’d taken more time to get off all of the black smeary mess to make sure none remained, but I’ll be too preoccupied to do anything about it.

Waking Moments are like Being Born,

except now, I get to drink coffee after it happens.

My little Moka pot on the stove bubbles in anticipation of the thick espresso that would be spurting out in a few moments. I stand by the stove, bleary-eyed, with my coffee cup in hand, like a beggar waiting for the small cheerful metal pot to deliver me from my state of incoherence. The Moka pot delivers the liquid gold from its sovereign metal belly. I drink, and my eyes open a little more.

I Wish I Had More Time,

but I make the most of the time I have.

I walk through the calendar cards of my day like clockwork. I have an article to read for my Spanish Class. I walk breathless up the three flights of stairs to discuss food culture in Latin America and fun fact of the day: did you know that they eat guinea pigs in Peru? I didn’t. It unsettled me until I forgot about it 5 minutes after class ended and I had a sandwich with pickles for lunch.

I like pickles.

I also like when there is an open table in the cafeteria so I don’t have to take a 10-minute walking tour of Minard Hall looking for a place to sit, holding my sandwich in one hand and my rumbling stomach in the other.

I could have used that 10 minutes to answer emails. I catch myself thinking like that sometimes, and I feel ashamed that I have so much to do in the “free time” that I have between my classes that I feel guilty about not doing work in the time it takes to find a place to sit.

I see my classmate from my next class of the day, and she invites me to her table. We complain about the reading, talk about the weather, and chat as we walk up the stairs to our class on the third floor.

I feel familiar sleepiness creep back into my eyes during my second class of the day. I breathe deeply, trying to stay awake, and my metal desk chair does its part to keep me awake by digging into my back every time I lean against it. Today, I am grateful for the torture chair.

Maybe Someday I'll Make It Big,

but today, I get to pretend while I drive down highway 29.

The calendar cards shuffle again and I am in my car, in real-life and not in a dream this time, merging onto the highway on my way to work.

Clouds cover most of the sunlight, but I lift my chin and smile at the pattern in the clouds and the strange glow from the sky that permeates through to the light concrete road in front of me. I pass the gas station and look twice at the gas price: $3.89.

Oh. It was cheaper in my dream. I can’t believe I’m having dreams about gas prices.

Spotify connects to my car, and I shuffle through my liked songs until I find one that matches the rate of my thoughts.

My blood starts flowing faster as I look forward to the projects that I’ve been assigned today. My internship seems like a dream itself, and I wiggle my head in excitement as I flick the blinker on for my exit.

I walk from my car to the front door of the office, holding my head high although the wind whips around my curls and plays with my hair like a child plays with bouncy balls - recklessly and with little care for the object. I’m wearing my black boots today, and they have just enough of a heel that I have to walk differently. I try to look confident, but some days, I just feel like a baby deer.

The lady at the front desk sees a strawberry-blonde girl with a black trench coat and heeled boots flip her hair as she opens the front door, undoing the damage the wind had done moments before. This girl dons a smile and tilts her head in greeting as she walks towards the office, holding her coffee cup in one hand and her keys in the other, and her gait remains steady as her eyes turn away from the desk and crease in a smile as she greets another coworker. She gazes towards the cubicles beyond and she glides past the desk in a breeze of peony and inspiration.

My gait slows as I approach her office, which is really a storage room with a window.

At work, I remind myself to drink water. Two of my coworkers congregate in my office for a few minutes, sharing the NFTs that they’ve just bought with the excitement of kids at a show-and-tell. I remind myself to learn more about NFTs later. They leave, and I look around the office/storage room. I shuffle a few small boxes off my desk so I have room to spread out my notebook and my laptop.

The sun had come out, and it shone through the window behind me, making it hard to see my computer screen. I daze off for a moment, thinking about my plans for the rest of the day.

I’ll drive back to campus and go to an HOLA Spanish club meeting, and parking is free after 4:30 so I don’t need to buy a daily parking permit. I hope they have food at the meeting. If they don’t, I do still have a frozen pizza at my apartment.

My roommate will be there tonight, so I’ll talk to her and laugh for a bit. I’ll go to the gym and probably see people I know. I’ll shower and eat more food.

And then I’ll turn off my spinning mind and rest for the next day, whatever it may bring.

I Drink Water and Write,

but I don’t do nearly enough of both.

I rested my head on my pillow and set my alarm. I pulled out my journal, and in the dim light of my salt lamp, I start writing

My day had delivered inspiration. Now, it was time to write it down.