The Movies In My Mind

Some nights I lay on my bed and listen to myself think, breathing through my eyes.  In the quiet of my room, I lie unmoving and stare at the ceiling I’ve transformed into the silverscreen of my day’s activities. I watch with steely eyes the events that unfold. I would freeze entire conversations and replay them over and over again, thinking about the more clever things that I should have said.  I pore over the day’s opportunity that I let slip away.  I meticulously take mental notes of the circumstances that lead to the opportunity and then vow to myself to grab it by the neck everytime it rears its beautiful head.

Even if my day has turned out horribly wrong, I still force myself to go through the exercise, thinking that even if I failed myself that day, I may still get some learnings out of it. 

It would be easier to just make up stories in my head for a change, instead of the documentary I play every night.  It would be fun to have superhuman capabilities, say the wittiest lines, and get the girl at the end.  But then I would have to suspend disbelief and replace my thoughts with revery.  It’s one thing to fool other people, it’s another thing to fool yourself.

So I’ll stick with the movies in my mind.  Most of the time, it’s as boring as a door nail, but there are also moments when it’s like watching The Rocky Horror Show.