I almost don’t realise how much I’ve missed it. Seeing as the last dry spell lasted a whole two weeks. All my doing, really. So I can’t complain. Because, don’t tell anyone, even when the opportunity presented itself, I dodged it feigning illness, and the stressing my need for space.
I was tired, wanted a break. I wanted out, to just relax and be free. Empty time. No strings attached. And guess what. In the two weeks that passed, it turns out I’ve missed the action. That’s the thing. The grass, it’s always greener on the other side. When I’m on top of it, the going is good. I’m in control, things move the way I want them to and it invariably leads to a flourishing finish. But most times, I’m lazy and let things slip, ending in a badly coordinated, mish-mash, tumble to the very end. Those times, I’m amazed I even make it to the end. Nerves frayed, patience tested and ready to bite someone’s head off.
So here I am again. I almost don’t realise how much I’ve missed the rush. Taking the bull by the horns, knocking off my moves one by one. Taking it on like a woman who wears the pants in this gig.
I’m reliving the high. Music in my ears, my world at my fingertips. Experiencing the rush to the end. The see-saw ride that always keeps me asking, will I/won’t I make it?
So here I am again. Reliving it.
Tap-taping away, letting the words escape.
Juggling telephone calls, interviews and transcribed files.
Uploading work, pictures and menus.
Ticking off the enormous list of tasks on my list.
Racing against time.
I almost don’t realise how much I’ve missed this. The rush of chasing deadlines.