I drifted in and out of consciousness in the first few minutes of the day because I decided to stay in bed a bit later than usual. During that time, The Voice spoke to me three different times, and I can hear the newcomers now asking themselves, 'Who the hell is The Voice?'
As regular readers know, The Voice isn't the afternoon television show where celebrities spin around in big red chairs—though honestly, that would make my mornings considerably more entertaining. The Voice is what I've named the voices that occasionally speak to me when I'm in the first half-conscious moment of waking, like waiting to connect to the WiFi of your own life.
It really doesn't matter what the voice says, but it's fun for me to remember and then mention it in The Circular Journey, because that's what this blog is about—absurd things that occur in a mood-disordered brain that I can laugh about.
The first time I woke this morning, the Voice said, 'Life is on the moon.' It kept me in bed for a few more minutes, pondering the cosmic implications of lunar living. I drifted back to sleep, and when I surfaced the second time, I heard, 'Tracy is Tracy,' which I'm sure is undeniably accurate, although I'm unable to confirm it.
After drifting into sleep once more, I woke to 'It's a beautiful morning!' And so, taking the words as my cue to begin the day, I opened the curtains and repeated the mantra.
As regular readers know, The Voice isn't the afternoon television show where celebrities spin around in big red chairs—though honestly, that would make my mornings considerably more entertaining. The Voice is what I've named the voices that occasionally speak to me when I'm in the first half-conscious moment of waking, like waiting to connect to the WiFi of your own life.
It really doesn't matter what the voice says, but it's fun for me to remember and then mention it in The Circular Journey, because that's what this blog is about—absurd things that occur in a mood-disordered brain that I can laugh about.
The first time I woke this morning, the Voice said, 'Life is on the moon.' It kept me in bed for a few more minutes, pondering the cosmic implications of lunar living. I drifted back to sleep, and when I surfaced the second time, I heard, 'Tracy is Tracy,' which I'm sure is undeniably accurate, although I'm unable to confirm it.
After drifting into sleep once more, I woke to 'It's a beautiful morning!' And so, taking the words as my cue to begin the day, I opened the curtains and repeated the mantra.
"It's a beautiful morning!" but I added a lot more topspin than The Voice. It occurred to me, standing there looking out on a glorious morning, that I might be onto something good—or if not, I may at least make decent blog material out of it.
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