You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?"
-"Vienna" Billy Joel
It's amazing how a few tabs of Mucinex can make you feel, suddenly and completely, like yourself. No, it's not how it sounds.
I've been languishing on the couch for days now with 1. a sinus infection and 2. no hopes of practicing. As you may well know, this is an acute form of torture (and the former sentence is an acute form of sarcasm). I'm the kind of person that can't stop thinking about what I need to get done. Needless to say, I can't get anything done when I'm sick. Hence, the torture. I've had plenty of time to think about all the impending events of my life and the question marks have been swarming like flies over a pig carcass. That, and I really enjoy practicing and going a few days without it inevitably causes withdrawal pain.
But, back to the Mucinex.
I was walking out of work when I quickly looked into my bag and saw the innocent set of Mucinex tabs. When I thought about the other things in my bag (a binder of music currently being slaved over, a voice recorder, a bestseller with a snarky narrator that knows about as much useless stuff as I do, chapstick, my cellphone, etc etc), I realized that these are the same things that were in my bag the same time a year ago (albeit I have upgraded from Walgreen's chapstick since then, but that's beside the point).
Granted, this isn't an epiphany in any sense of the word, but it made me realize something even more important. Even though my life has changed drastically in the last year and I have, at times, felt disconnected from The Kim of Last August, I am still, at the core, the same. The peripheral details have shifted, jumbled, and transformed, but the central Self has not changed. It may seem like life changes from "difficult and yet never insurmountable" to "GOOD LORD, GET ME OUT OF HERE" but that's not true. Maybe I'm too young to have any say in this, but I feel that although life might feel like the latter, it is actually always the former, and the Self can be impenetrable. I can always look into my bag and find some Mucinex or a well-worn pencil or some chapstick because I am always Who I Am and that can remain unchanged.
So now as I face the many ???s that swamp my brain, I can be confident that no matter what life decides to do next, I can make it through and still find a few constants in the jumble that is called existence.
But, hey, at least I don't have this problem: