Speaking voices: the primary responsibility of my job is to manage and balance them. I listen to them all day long every day. The video image is less important than the quality of voice; I record their speech. Each and every voice is unique and some are more tricky to record than others; more tricky to balance with other voices. Raspy voices, exceptionally soft voices, voices that project into the hallway…

I don’t need to hear the content of what is said.

I think about the crunchy salt-and-pepper krinkle-cut potato chips on top of my cable bag that make me feel self-conscious every time I eat them on the breaks. “Bolder and crunchier” it says on the bag – no kidding. Insufferably loud and feels like it might be hard on the teeth. Like little hammers in my mouth grinding through eggshells. I shouldn’t be eating stuff like this; these near-inedible junky substances, but I find the free snacks irresistible in this firm.

My mind wanders over to my motorcycle and other motorcycles. To my deep-dive class on camera lenses, and all the other classes on my list. To all the dreams and the plans and the exciting things ahead.

My hand skims over the weird little circular skin lesion of sorts, on the side of my chin. It’s a type of spot that I sometimes get for the past decade, where the skin gets strawberry-red in a little circle; a little dry area is formed and it peels. It doesn’t itch. It must be some kind of odd or lesser-known disorder, but it’s not a big deal. As it heals, the color fades closer and closer to that of my natural complexion, until it’s gone. Sometimes this process takes quite a few weeks… but it always goes away. Doctors don’t know what it is, but it’s harmless. Before this occasional immunity glitch popped up, I always had perfect skin.

Youth is one of those things that gifts us these glimpses of perfection. Perfection in all its myriad and ever-shifting forms. We can keep on chasing perfection as it eludes us, if we choose.

Or we can choose to invite change and adapt with it, as part of the dynamic and dramatic beauty of life. I don’t always know which flower to pick.

Whatever you pick, let it be a flower too.





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