A song comes on. Drum beat. Falls into synch perfectly with the tempo of the song. One of those magical moments. Like seeing a double rainbow.
I’m tapping my foot in time with the beat. Beat of the song. Beat of my car’s metronome. The world in synchrony!
Then I look at the clock. The little colon blinks between the numbers– Out of synch with our cosmic drum circle. Damn it. Then the turn signal falls out– It was never lined up as perfectly as it seemed. A 118 bpm to the song’s 120. The ticks fall away from the snare drum. The whole thing wobbles. I try to keep my foot taping but it’s a mess– I’m stomping like an idiot. What was so harmonious just seconds ago is a cacophony. Just before I can be soured on the whole experience, the light changes– Tire squeaks as I hook it around the corner. Turn signal off. Song plays on. I keep moving. Look forward to the next time things will fall into place. Maybe next time for real. A true synch. Something that lasts.
It occurs to me: This is what freelancing feels like. How my days and weeks feel right now while I wait for things with my screenplay to ramp back up. Moving along. Lining up gigs. Hoping everything synchs up long enough to keep me happy for a little bit.
… And looking at the clock only ever screws it all up.