Some people says a writer’s life is boring. What do you do all day anyway, sitting there in front of your computer? Hm!
I say: I can see a baseball field, elaborate chandeliers on the rafters, talking mice running through halls, and umpires who never call foul. My job is very important, and I am a dedicated worker.
In fact, this past week, I was in a baseball stadium. The most mesmerising, sophisticated, complex, beautiful building you’ve ever seen. A St. Petersburg White Palace fit for a Tsar crossed with Wrigley Field. So many entrances and exits and doors, I felt honored just to be inside. I knew my place, and I tried to be mindful.
I tiptoed under its strong stainless steel beams and the delicate flowers that adorned the windows high above my head. The breadth and depth of this place was magnificent, and it drew me in. I smiled and hopped and skipped and ran. I couldn’t help myself. Deeper and deeper I went.
Mirrored door after mirrored door, all locked, I came upon only one unlocked door. It’s a wonder I found it at all! I stepped through, breathless, and I crashed straight into the trash bins. Gong!
Determined to get onto the main field, I started for the entrance again. Back inside, I walked on shiny concrete floors, under chandeliers. This time no skipping, I said to myself.
Along the edges of the floor, lights glowed ever so softly. My heart warmed, and I continued through the hall. Tick tocks later, I was getting a little lost again. So, I stopped and asked the talking mice, who seemed to be having a conference, “Where can I find the passageway to the main field?”
They snickered. “Good luck! We still haven’t found it ourselves!”
And that’s it so far, I say to some people.
I take your point. Some people shuffles. Tell me more.
And off they go for coffee.