All That I Am.

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This morning after class, I decided I would go home, change clothes, and stop at Thunderbird Coffee for a chai tea latte.

On my walk back to my apartment, I listened to the album titled “A is For Alpine” by the artist “Alpine.” The morning air was crisp, fresh, and there were a few moments where I had to gasp for breath as the chilling wind forced its way into my lungs.

Once I was ready to leave, I gathered my things and headed to Thunderbird, where I was met by a decent parking space and a short line at the register. As I walked up to place my order, I greeted Jeremiah, the barista, as I always do, and then took my seat at a chair near the door while I waited for my drink.

Sitting there, in the chair, I watched others as they ordered their coffee, typed away furiously at their desktops, and had their morning coffee with friends. Watching. Always watching the world.

I hear the door swing open, and Justin walks in, another barista I have befriended. After grabbing himself a coffee, we chat for a moment, discussing our plans for the day, and then we bid one another adieu.

My coffee is ready. I pick it up off of the bar. I add sugar. I leave.

As I’m driving to Vuka to begin my work for the morning, my phone dies, leaving me with either the radio or a CD for the remainder of my drive. At a red light, I dig through my CD case, which hasn’t left my car since I first began driving. I find an old Aly & AJ album, laugh, and pop it in the CD player. While listening, I think back to all the times I spent playing this same CD on the boom box I once treasured.

I pull up to Vuka. There is no parking, but that is to be expected, and is often the case when I choose to work there.

After settling into my seat and arranging my pens, journals, highlighters, and books just so, I begin reading my Communication Law book. It is dense, but I am determined to get through three chapters. And I do. Before I know it, the time is nearly three o’clock, and I am ravenous.

Pack up my things. Walk out the door. Bask in the sunshine the entire block and a half I have before I reach my vehicle.

Once my bags have been placed in the back seat of my car, I stare at the house I’ve parked in front of for a moment, and decide I’ll take a photo; it looks as though it was under renovation for a while, but suddenly forgotten by whatever party it belonged to. The house is modern, and the clean lines contrasting with the deteriorating exterior are terribly picturesque- especially with the sun shining down upon it and the barren trees all around.

“I must return with my friends to shoot some photos,” I tell myself.

Once I’ve arrived home, I settle down with a bowl of beautiful, perfectly ripened fruit to watch a documentary for a class.

Art & Copy. 88 minutes in length.

I am not one to sit patiently and attentively for an extended period of time, so I decide I’ll give myself a pedicure while watching. Something simple, but it kept me occupied.

Being the indecisive individual that I am, I could not make a decision as to what color I wanted on my toes, so I decided I’d leave them bare for now- at least until I found a color that pleased me.

88 minutes are up. My to-do list has grown since the documentary began, but I am okay with that. I like keeping myself busy.

I look over my documentary notes, look at the clock, and decide as soon as I’ve typed my critique, I’ll head to the gym. I haven’t been in a while, and I’m craving a little physical activity after a day spent sitting down.

Paper? Complete. Wow, that was fast. I read over it. Satisfied, I change and head to the gym.

While at the gym, I spend time on the treadmill- listening to Shakey Graves as I read the closed captioning popping up across the bottom of the treadmill’s television screen, which is tuned to one of the many “survival” shows that now populate the broadcast networks.

My time at the gym is up.

I drive home, print my paper, and hop into the shower.

The water is hot and my mind is filling with thoughts. Anything and everything. My brain never grows silent.

I wash my face.

I begin washing my body. As I look down, I watch the water run down my legs, over my knees, and onto my feet.

I stare at my toes.

Unpainted.

A miniscule detail.

Suddenly, I realize this is the first time I’ve been completely naked in an incredibly long time. Stripped down to nothing. Just the water running over my body; hitting my face, trailing down my neck, across my torso-

The water falls, and I am overwhelmed by the moment. I stare at the wall.

This is all that I am. I am here. In this moment, I am nothing but all that I am.

Self-Actualization.

Satisfaction.

2 thoughts on “All That I Am.

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