Bear with me please, I’m a Lil’ too happy and optimistic and etcetera right now. Touchwood. So this be a blabber. Period. I was with a friend and I realised how I couldn’t stand him cribbing. Nah. Couldn’t tell him that cuz, well, I’m the queen of cribs. Who’ll listen to me the next time I want to rant? So I listened and nodded and that was that. The issue today was work. He doesn’t like working. I agree, it feels caged and stifling and monotonous and bleh. Rut. If you’re amongst those fortunate people who love what you work, well, you lucky, you! This guy isn’t doing what he loves. But he has a plus! See, he knows what he loves. There are so many people who’d give a hand and leg to have passion and energy for a particular ..thing. But I don’t feel comparisons are good (it makes me wanna put my head in ice cold water and never come up – comparisons) so we shall drop that line of thought. So anyway I tried telling him what my dad told me when I came home shocked saying “whoa dad!” you did NOT tell me what a drag office life is! Dad said “Well, its work. What do you expect. Every kind of work is work yo” My goofy friend didn’t find the above lines to his liking. Then his friends came back from work and joined in and the cribbing conversation became a crib-till-you-fall-asleep kind of discussion. I tried listening and sympathizing. Didn’t acually (I’m a total bitch, I know, sigh!) Anyway. I went to his room and dug around for all his photography stuff. It took me a while to find it amongst all the excuses and cribs and rants and really smelly office socks. But I found it. I dragged it all to the hall. I un-dignifi-ably pulled whatever I deemed photograph-takable and pulled him outside. The rant against going to work, the timing, routines and money and blah and blah was such that I didn’t have to do much to get him to sit behind me on my scooty. For a while as the cool air hit us, as we buzzed in and out of dispersing traffic, I heard him talk. More words and despair and tears. We hit an empty road, and suddenly it was just us. The moon, the gentle breeze, flickering street lamps and the night engulfing two lost souls on a winding road. I heard it then. Click. ** There’s always time for yourself. For what makes you happy. For what completes you. Even ten minutes a day might, just might keep all the stress and bad shit away. Less of what-ifs and more of doing maybe?
Other short stories in chatterboxerr can be found at : https://chatterboxerr.wordpress.com/short-stories/