The Morning After

I am in a bad mood today. 

And waking up to gloomy skies doesn’t help. 

 

Yesterday, while driving home, I planned to write about my passion for music here.  But when I got home, I had a spat with my parent, and therefore, am now incapacitated to write anything cheerful or inspiring.

My parents are good people, and I love them dearly.  But sometimes…ooh just sometimes, they get on my nerves.  But hey, I admit the fact that I also push their buttons.  Isn’t this always the case?  People who love each other, inevitably also hurt each other.

I lived in the moment of last night’s argument.  I acted as if that specific scene were the be-all and end-all of things—as if after that, everything would fade to black to give way to the credit roll.  I didn’t care about the consequences of my words and actions.  I delivered my witty but hurtful lines flawlessly.  I stormed out of the room with genuine flair, unmatched by any stage actress.

But life is not like the movies.  It continued the morning after. The fade to black before the credit roll turned out to be just me, sleeping and dreaming.

So I’m now living in “the next morning” scene.  Things are awkward and un-artistically routine.  My parent is busy with chores while I pretend to look busy in front of this web page.  We’ve exchanged a few words—purely business matters with no mention of last night’s drama.  We squelch it, even deny it, until suddenly one of us bursts out of the masquerade and reopen the issue.  I wonder who that will be?  

When that time comes, the LIGHTS will be switched on, the CAMERA will roll, and I and my co-actor will launch into ACTION.  All in the name of my pseudo-movie.