creative writing podcast

The person in the transcription describes their morning routine and then daydreams about being in a happier place. They watch TV, imagine being a city girl, and then go to bed and have a peaceful dream. When they wake up, they are annoyed by the sun shining in their face. Good morning, good morning indeed. I am surely mourning my beautiful dreams where I was in a much happier place than I am now. Alas, I must live another day, so I'll get out of bed and here I stand. I'll stand, but should I walk? Is there anywhere to walk to? Not really, so I go to the bathroom. Same thing every day. I do whatever I've got to do and I brush my teeth as I do every day. I'll have to do this every day and night for the rest of my life. I wash my face with my acne cleanser, but what's the point? My face will always have that stubborn pimple on my forehead that never takes its leave no matter how much I wash my face. Once my face is clean and dry, I moisturize with SPF even though I won't be getting much or any sun at all today. I put lip balm on my lips and my face is ready. Should I change out of my mismatched pajamas? I guess, so I grab a pair of sweatpants and a knit cardigan to wear over an old t-shirt and that's the outfit of the day. Once back in my bedroom, I set my eyes upon my unmade rustled bed and with a huff and a puff decide to just leave it the way it is. What's the point of fixing it? I'll be laying back in it in a mere few hours, so off I go and gallop down the steps and into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator door wide and scan looking for anything edible that might actually be appealing to me. What should I eat? What should I eat? Cereal is. I decide while grabbing the almost expired carton of milk from the bottom shelf, a bowl, a spoon, the box of Cheerios from the cabinet under the counter, and I pour the small circles of wheat. Next comes the milk. I uncap the lid and tip it over to pour. The smooth white milk comes out in one stream and I get lost in the scene and wind up somewhere else. The meadow is white and flat, a plane of green grass swaying in a light breeze in the distance. I see mountains covered in trees that kiss the clear blue sky. My heart is beating at a steady rate, calm and at ease. I feel bliss. I gallop through the field, feet bare in a cotton white dress flowing around me, ethereal, angelic. Butterflies come alive around where I disrupt their slumber, fluttering all around me. The sun glares down in a magnificent way, warming my skin with a golden hue. I dance to the tunes playing in my head and spin around laughing lightly at the humor in my heart. I run at my fastest pace towards an unknown destination and stop abruptly. I drop to the ground and lay on my back, eyes to the sky, staring at the sun for as long as I dare, limbs spread out like melting chocolate separate from the rest of my body. I wiggle my toes and feel the little blaze of grass come in between them. I lay there feeling the comforting burn of my skin under the embrace of the sun. A small butterfly, the color of tangerines with black speckles on its wings, lands on my tip of my nose, leaving little kisses that tickle. I wiggle my bridge to play with it, cheeks rosy, nose tickled, lips upturned in a peaceful smile. When you're young, they assume you know nothing, but in this moment of my youth, I feel as if I could speak the truth of all the universe. The tangerine butterfly flies away, and the second as a dark cloud moves overhead, suddenly an onslaught of wetness comes from above as rain starts to pour, and I'm lost. I trust in the rain's promise to drown me and then bring me back to life. Paradise slips away. Oh, crap! I look down to see I had overfilled my bowl of cereal with milk that has now spilled over the sides and is currently dripping onto my toes. Ah, yes, reality, my favorite. Isn't it the best? I grab paper towels to clean up my mess, using about ten pieces to wipe enough to where only a small streak is left on the counter, but that was good enough for me. I toss the bowl into the sink, no longer holding onto an appetite. Mostly these days, I just eat out of boredom, and no shortage of that there is. I pop onto my favorite corner spot on the couch with all of my weight and collapse into the cushions. Laying horizontal, I reach for the remote and attempt to turn on the TV, but nothing happens. I turn the remote and angle it in a different position, this way and that way, to no avail. I take a look at the back of it and, of course, a missing battery. I climb out of the couch to dig through the junk drawer for a loose battery. I shuffle through random Uno cards and broken phone chargers until I finally find the treasure that is a AA battery. Once I shove it into the remote back and point it at the TV screen, press the power button, and it finally turns on with a humming note. I surf the channels uninterested, flipping through without actually seeing what's going on. It's the same movies that are on every day, and all the good shows are over by now. Finally, I land in an old rerun of Sex and the City, where Carrie crosses the street on the screen in a lavender asymmetrical dress that cuts low in the back. Her curly, dirty blonde hair is up in a clip, with messy strands framing her face. My personal favourite look of hers, if I'm honest. She walks into a restaurant with bags in her hands, and after a day of satisfying shopping to forget something that Mr. Big had done, dot, dot, dot, again, her girls are all waiting for her at the table, and they drink and chat. No worries, just good times and laughs, with a sigh, ah, I'm no longer on my jewellery couch in my living room, but I've gone to the land of the living. Beep, beep! Cars whoosh past, only to get stuck at a red traffic light, where traffic is building up streaks of yellow speed by obscuring the image of the taxi cab trying to get their passenger to their destination. The streets are bustling with people working to and from work. On their phones, earbuds in, talking, listening, my ears are empty, my eyes are open. My arms are laced with shopping bags, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Cartier, in my Jimmy Choo heels, impractical but fabulous. I walk down the gum-covered sidewalk of the city, with no particular end goal in mind. I'm just a carefree, beautiful city girl, in a place where I have no stress. The sun shines in from between the skyscrapers, and washes over me like a spotlight. I smile at everyone I pass by, so if it makes me seem like a nutcase, I'll enjoy myself. I make my way to my fourth floor walk-up apartment, again, the Jimmy Choo's are not very practical, but so, so worth it. I dig my keys out of my bag, and jiggle the lock until it clicks open. In I walk into my open concept loft, with an emerald green couch against the back wall of the living room, and a dark oak coffee table, with chic fashion and beauty magazines stacked on top. My shelf off to the side, filled with my collection of books, all embossed with my initials, claiming them as pieces of my personal library. I skip into my quaint kitchen that is made of an oven, a sink, and a fridge. I make myself a cup of hot coffee, which deserves, after a long day of sifting through vintage designer pieces, and the newest of the summer lines. A material girl in a material world, that's what I am. The bustling noise of the outside world, colliding with the calm tunes playing from my record player, and some noise coming from somewhere. Call now, 1-800-CONTACTS, be one of the first 50 callers, and receive your first order free! The infomercial on the screen calls me back to my living room, where I'm sprawled on the couch, my stomach rumbles, pleading for sustenance, not really in the mood to make an actual meal, a proper food, I just go through the snack cabinet, and settle for some Ritz crackers. I grab a pack, and shuffle up the stairs, and embark on the journey back to my bedroom. 14 steps up, 7 first, then a turn, and 7 more. Each one requires a quarter's worth of energy more than the last. Once I've reached my destination, being the door to my bedroom, I'm wary of a dragon that guards the entrance. A sigh passes my lips as I open the door to reveal my purgatory, complete with an unmade bed, and dirty clothes scattered all across the floor. With all the energy it took to trek up the stairs, I'm left with little to get me much more out of myself on this day. With all the will to live of a gnat, I fall into my bed, and let it swallow me, with all the warmth of a damp mouth. I place my back on the bed, with my pack of crackers on the nightstand, surely to be forgotten there for a month moreover. I lay back, and when my head hits the pillow, I descend into a world better suited to me. The night is warm, but a brisk wind passes through with a kiss of a shiver down my back. I stand under the stars, all of them visible, no clouds or buildings obscuring the view, no planes to pretend with, pure balls of heat that at this distance appear to be diamonds and crystals decorating the sky. The full moon illuminates the mountains with snowcaps and dips blanketed in the finest powder white, surrounded by ice, yet I am not so cold in the least. I feel a warmth that derives from within my own blood, generated by the pumps of my heart. I tilt my head up to admire the night sky with all of its decoration. I study the moon, and respect its ability to hold so strong in its lonesome, to shine so brightly and appear so proud even as she is presented in her solidarity, and I feel the love of the moon for hers is like no other, for she loves by not stealing the night, but only by unveiling the beauty of the dark. I turn to the stars now and find myself in a true likeness to them. I too am a star, for I shine bright and ravish in my fiery disposition, but as I gaze up and quickly I make a wish to never have to leave this place, to always feel this peace. Suddenly an eclipse of the moon blinds as the sun makes its appearance and steals the glory. The aggressive shine of the sun glares harshly and burns as I try to shield my eyes to no avail, my peace lost, maybe forever. UGH! I groan as I dig my face into my pillow to shield my eyes, puffy from lack of sleep. The sun shining in from my south-facing window declares morning and glares in on my face as the sun rises on another numb day. Alas, I rise like a mummy and place my feet on the floor to the side of the bed where they step into a pile of my dirty laundry that's been building up on the floor of my bedroom for some weeks now. I get up from the warm comfort of my lovely bed and I stretch my stiff limbs and joints. The cracking in my back was particularly satisfying. Why do I need to even get up? What are the benefits of me leaving my room? There is nothing out there that I can't already have in this room, at least in my imagination. This room is where I am happy, this room and in this brain. I do leave the room and shuffle groggily to the bathroom. Do I need to wash my face today? No, I'm not going anywhere. Okay, so I'll just brush my teeth and that's good enough. I put a pea-sized spearmint toothpaste on my worn-out toothbrush and bring it to my mouth, slowly and with tired motions I brush back and forth. I go back to my room and put on my slippers, not bothering to change out of my pajamas. I take a look at myself in the mirror to see the mess in front of me, staring deep into the eyes of the one staring back at me, and my mind begins to drift.