That Part Where The Soundtrack Starts.

A friend with a mind that impresses me once talked about montage moments and how she thinks about songs that would play when she's on the train, or moving from point A to B. I loved this immediately because it's how I've lived my life. If this is all The Truman Show and we're starring in our own stories (which we are), we know the important days. We know when things matter. We know when everything starts to click, when messes start to reveal themselves as things that had to be cleared so we could find something new and unexpected, we know when something feels right. It's that part where the soundtrack starts. When the perfect song for the moment plays and dialogue isn't really needed. It's the moment and the moment is a feeling and the feeling is good.
It's the montage.

You have dozens of these moments in your mind right now and if you think of one you'll smile immediately, maybe get a little teary-eyed, but always feel grateful. Grateful that life in that moment was so loud and so honest and so nice to you.

Had a strange day that started to unravel at an early hour, spun uncontrollably through the afternoon, started to slow like a spinning top by early evening, and then rolled slowly to my feet just now, moments before I started to write this, presented perfectly. You know the way a well-made bed looks when you're exhausted? That's how today ended up feeling for me.

In montage fashion:
A steamy morning bike ride, a job that confuses and amuses me, walking in and out of small scenes, meeting strangers, talking while I set up their meals and they get ready for the day, and then never seeing them again. Ideas, taking orders, taking notes, writing, writing, writing, in my head. A coworker calling me out and humbling me by saying, "Sometimes you're happy, sometimes you're mad, you want to work, you want to quit, which Jess is here today? Give me a hug!" breakfast with my girl Emma ("I have Ms. Granger on the line for you."), just seriously wanting an English accent. Meeting up with the girl I'm subletting from for the summer and her basically asking that I not pee on anything, and then when prompted to "Wait, wait, wait" by the talking crosswalk, starting to sing Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Maps in time and getting a smile and a nod from the guy on a bike next to me. I've been truly sick for over a week, not sleeping since forever, and so out of it that all I could do when I arrived home 15 hours after my day started, was stare at my favorite sweater hanging on my door, air drying, even though I shrunk it in the dryer over the winter. Comically small. It will never ever EVER fit me properly again. And yet, I've hung it on a hanger on the door. To air dry this time.

My playlists have been on point lately, I've had gum on me when people ask for gum, the interesting small funny beautiful things that the people in my life say have made their way into my notes, and everything feels right. Even the wrong things feel like they're there for a reason. It feels so good to have a crazy day seem important. To have confusing things make sense simply because I can't explain them. It feels so damn good to hear the thunder and think of bowling and to try to think of a great song to play in the moment.