Well, in a perfect world

In a perfect world I would have tons of blogging time in by now, but, the reality is, it's really hard to steal any time during the day to do anything but review thousands of documents, and get them coded and still leave enough brain cells to get home.
 
So I sit in bumper to bumper traffic and wonder why I keep doing this. (Another voice pops up and says, uhhhm, I hate to be the one to remind you of this, but millions are unemployed at the moment, do you still want to bitch?) A wave of guilt for the thought washes through me, and I send thanks up to the universe, get back to the peaceful moment when I realized why I keep doing this monstrous commute each day:
 
Because of the music. It has to be fueled until it has a life of its own, so I buckle down, nose to the grind, and push pen across paper. One more day. I blink my eyes one more time, promise myself one more year. I will not have to do this for much longer.
 
And there, in the balance between secular sense and ethereal understanding, I know every step is a marker on the path to give me something I did not have before, to get me where I need to go, so I can arrive on time, healed, whole, at my new destination.
 
I will get there, I remind myself.   Be patient.  Your day in the sun is soon upon you. Enjoy the process in a perfect world.