~Soundtrack of Self~

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Sometimes I wish life had its own soundtrack. Maybe not "life" as an entire entity in itself, but on a single, smaller, microscopic scale--where each individual has one very specific, constantly flowing music score to match their ever changing mood and mindset. THAT. WOULD. BE. AMAZING. (or in my case.....just a maze...(*zing*))~

Go with me on this one...my favorite movie in the world, Amelie, has this similar bend to it. The movie as a whole definitely gives you a window into her mind, with great music and sound effects as the reel rolls. But Amelie seems more to be hearing the soundtrack of the world, as it plays itself to her, ....I am specifically thinking more along the lines of each person's soundtrack of themselves--descriptive rather than prescriptive. Ever shifting and shuffling, like a foot-stompin', resounding remix, where at any given time the DJ of your dharma would stop that record----SCRREEECH....aaaaand *wickety wickety wickety*....BAM (Or in some of our cases, WHACK?)...new sound, different vibe, and the beat goes on. No segway necessary...no pregnant pause or interlude...there is no time! Small wonders and snippets of emotion and sensory samplings wait for no man! And slip away from our reach as fast as a fairy flies...only a glimmer memory with a glitter trail of topsy-turvy, tinkling cheer remains.

Yes, a selfie soundtrack. Indeed. I think I'll write off for a patent presently....but before I go, allow me to press *play*...for your listening pleasure:

Eyes open as the alarm wheezes a whiny and utterly annoying (BEEP BEEP BEEP!) A (BOP BAM BOOM) as my tiny fist obliterates the button...I see this as my pint-size protest (and slight temper tantrum) regarding the shortening of my sweet slumber.  Radio clicks on as U2 beckons me to a better mood, reminding me it really is a (Beautiful Day). A smile sneaks to my cheeks as I roll to the right...(RECORD SCRATCH!)...as I ricochet across the covers, the unwilling recipient of my husband's dread-full (and unaware) headbutt. (SHISH SHISH SHISH) as I rub my forehead and make my way to the mirror, perusing the glass panel for any signs of gore or goose egg that are guaranteed to be there after such a knock to the noggin'. WHEEEEEEEEY...I rub the smudge of bathroom brine as the one blurry blotch of sink splash stares back at me from the smooth surface. There. All clean.

I call out to my husband from the hallway asking if he wants coffee...(CRICKETS)...followed by the PITTER PATTER of my feet padding down the hallway. Round the corner to JACKHAMM-AAAAH--TADADADDADADADADADAD!....no, not a snore...a symphony of snorts and sniffles----one unapologetic, earth-shattering, shake me and quake-me-to-the-core cacophony of syncopated chaos. (POW!) A drool-by shooting! Autopsy report reads: Nerves D.O.A.

And that's just before I even get my teeth brushed. *Coffee's on, ya'll*....