Blue skies

I found this on my computer, so I thought I would post.

I’m inside. My back is to the window. As I type, I see in the screen of my laptop a reflection of the outdoors. Blue skies. Trees blowing in the wind. The sunlight fills my room, revealing the mess within: a pile of clothes, old Barbie boxes from childhood, stacks of books, empty packages, a bag of garbage.

But I cannot feel the wind. I cannot smell the outdoor air. I cannot hear the sounds of birds chirping or the water of the lake flowing. (Can lakes flow? Oh well, I'm keeping it the way it is.)
I can only feel the cool air from the vent blow over me. I can only hear the rattle of my ceiling fan. There’s something distant and cold about the air conditioning. Nothing seems to be the way it should. I should be running through the grass, getting stained knees. I should hear the sounds of laughter. I should hear the breeze. I should be feeling more than the pillow against my back.

Oh, yes, I am surely comfortable. But that’s where my life stops. It stops at comfort. But, of course, that’s where I like it. That’s where I feel my best.

But that nagging feeling of comfort never stops. That nagging feeling that maybe I should be somewhere else, someplace else, feeling, touching, smelling, engaging in life. That nagging feeling that says, “Surely, there is more than just this.” It never stops.


On a lighter note, movie recommendations:
1) Simone
2) Big Fish
3) Monsters, Inc.
4) Multiplicity
5) The Recruit