Boredom and a Hook: The Rebellious Imagineer


I woke up in the morning filled with boredom. I was too shy to ask any of my friends directly to save me from this overwhelming feeling. In a world filled with possibilities how can I POSSIBLY be bored? But I figuratively yawned at the thought.

In my world, I’m so famous. I’ve danced all over the country. In fact, I’m booked for a show in D.C. I also plan to try out for a dance version of “The Voice”. Before this, I did a show or two on Broadway and acted in a film nominated for an Oscar. I’ve written and composed many songs you hear at church. Tomorrow I can help you build that empire, that school, that brand new organization to help “those kids off the streets”.

Back track, in college, I was laying on my stomach in the dirt somewhere in the Middle East filling my little brown notebook with short hand because only I can understand this story. Soldiers are in front to subconsciously trying to protect me…and the country they serve…where everyone is still at the mall.

“Pfft! Pfft” Sorry I have to spit out all the sand and dirt that got in my mouth- next one.

At work, ironically, I remember the daydream I had in college walking into a hall with a long elegant electric blue dress. Corrupt leaders see me and begin to sweat. They try not to make eye-contact with me knowing that all their sins would be exploited for the good of the people the promised they’d “Watch over, protect…” Whatever. I take my seat in the back to play clueless, but this time, they know better.

Lights dim and everyone hits the dance floor. I’m up on the balcony spinning the hottest old Dancehall, the Latin, the African beats and of course hiphop. But suddenly get bored of the background, jump off the balcony and start dancing in the crowd. Someone throws me a mic and I spit the illest lyrics and the crowd starts jumping and shouting.

Suddenly I’m on a motorcycle speeding down the freeway trying to pass my late brother who, with his signature smile, took off in his jaguar trying to beat my speed. I hit 100 MPH just about to catch up but he finally beats me. I park the bike at some deserted spot, take off my helmet, my locs drop to my mid back. I throw my helmet to the ground.

In my mind a man buys me flowers. A man makes me laugh and think. A man and I talk all night about everything and nothing. In my mind, we are laying in bed in the dark. We face each other and reach out to one another.

The room wall is designed by me. My cartoon characters are smiling, dancing near the empty crib. He and I wipe the sweat off our brows. We worked all day on this bedroom. I look up at him, rubbing my belly and he rubs it too. We hug.

I’m back in my room. If only life was as exciting as the imagination in my head. So I will write it all.