the kindness of strangers

At work, we usually steal a few extra moments for lunch but I rarely have 90 minutes to do whatever I want in the middle of the day. Hell, I often don’t know what to do with myself when I have the entire day to do whatever I want but as long as it’s not work, I’m okay with sitting in a big room with people from all walks of life just waiting to be pulled into a jury room.

When we were told we could escape for lunch, I headed across the street to Corner Bakery, completely forgetting that everyone and their sister goes to lunch at Noon. Luckily, there was a seat across from a woman sitting and enjoying her salad. She politely said, “sure you can” when I asked if I could sit with her and proceeded to tell me we could pretend we met to have lunch together. Why not!

We exchanged pleasantries (except our names, now that I think about) and she told me she’s a music editor for a small Catholic publication. Religion isn’t my thing but to each his / her own. She plays the keyboard and basically spends her days reading music, finding composition errors, and correcting them. It’s a small, laid back publishing house and she loves her job. I told her I think that sounds like a fantastic way to spend her days and when she asked what I do, I gave the obligatory “I’m an administrative assistant at a tax firm,” which I don’t really utter with a great deal of enthusiasm.

I went on to tell her that I’m a mixture, as I’m sure plenty of people are, of left-brained and right-brained. My general love of reading and writing and music and doing my part, however big or small, in creating them, reassures me I’m a creative person. But I’m also a lover of…order and direction and linear thinking. Want me to do something? Tell me what needs to be done, a general “how to go about it”, and I’m good to go. I often wonder if I could make a living off my creative side because I need to be held accountable. I need order and direction and structure in my life. The creative part of me has always been an outlet and not something I live and breathe every day that results in a paycheck. I often think how great it would be to be a writer and make a living with it but I often think that I don’t want my passion to be turned into…a means to an end. Sure, I’d love to be able to do something I love and make money but in a lot of ways, I just don’t want what I love to be what I rely on to live. I want it to be what I rely on…to grow and live better and happier. Something that’s just for me, when and how I want it to be.

We got to talking about writing and music and creative endeavors and despite the fact that music has always been a part of her life, something I think most people consider to be a very creative act, she’s not much for reading novels but is a great admirer of those who can write and she wishes she could.

I told her about National Novel Writing Month and that I’d decided to shoot for taking part in it this year. That is, until about a week or so ago when I was bored at work, my mind was wondering, and it wondered right into some ideas about what I could write about. So I told a complete stranger what I’ve, until now, only told one person. That I’ve started writing…something. Screw November. As much as I often believe “procrastination pays,” why the hell wait around eight months when I can very easily get started now? Where it will take me, I have no idea. But it’ll lead somewhere.

We got to talking about how, thanks to luck and randomly meeting someone in the field, she got into the publishing side of things and the fact that I’ve always wanted to get into publishing. She then told me, “keep cultivating those writing skills. I love music but as soon as you play a note, it’s gone. The written word…it’s out there. It’s permanent. It takes talent and skill to be able to create that and I envy those who can.”

Helping decide someone’s legal fate wasn’t in the cards for me today and I’m now comfy and cozy at home. But I consider it an all-around productive, enlightening, quite delightful day.