Brave

I sometimes wonder why I write this. Or why I write anything.

I like to think that I have something meaningful to say. Something worth listening to. Something worth reading. But the thing is I don’t tell people about my writing or indeed that I write at all. Very few people know about this blog or my stories or poems. And to be completely honest, I am loath to tell them. I’m not very good at self-promotion. I’d rather be discovered by chance. A happy accident.

I envy people who are brave. Brave enough to show the world what they are made of. What they think, feel and believe.  To expose themselves to the potential ridicule of others and take the risk anyway.

Right now, I’m not even brave enough to put words to a blank page.

I wonder where did my courage go?

I have a story!

I have a story in the pipelines! *Squeal of excitement!* (Me, not you….although you can squeal too if you are excited for me) It’s a short story. My self-imposed deadline for it is 30^th September 2010.  Please hold me accountable. Thank you.

Escape to the Country

It’s (still!) the summer holidays and I am surrounded by – drowning in - daytime television. Has anyone watched this show before? I think it’s about a couple or a family that want to move from the city to the countryside so they go a look at properties (correct me if I’m wrong).  As a born and bred city girl, I have always thought that there’s just nothing to do there.

I will freely admit that I was wrong.

Fields. Trees. Greenery. Fresh air. It all suddenly hits me like a freight train when I leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind. The contrast is more dramatic on a train journey but I suppose on some level this is what the old motorway holidays were like. Exciting, romantic, and thrilling. *cough cough* My lungs aren’t used to this level of cleanliness. There are houses surrounded by empty space. Everything is just so spaced out. It’s amazing. The city is a bubble. Sometimes it’s hard to think there’s anything else outside of it. Sometimes it’s a bit claustrophobic. I can see why people escape. I might try it sometime.

Reunions

Reunions are great. Last week I met up with my friends from my sixth form. It’s fun to catch up with them and find out what’s going on in everyone’s lives. We get to celebrate each other’s achievements and rejoice in their successes. Since leaving school in 2006 most of them have been to university and graduated. It’s just me and the rest of the medics left now (and of course those who didn’t go to university).

There’s one caveat to the trip on the memory train. If you’re anything like me while everyone is talking and laughing (and spilling their Starbucks coffee) a part of your mind will wonder ‘what have you managed to do with the last four years?’ or more specifically ‘X has done something amazing! You have done nothing. You suck.’ I should really use those moments to spur me to do something that can at least become future anecdote in conversation. But I don’t.  Well sometimes I do, but mostly I don’t.

And then my mind snaps back – where was I, oh yes. Celebrating achievements, rejoicing success…lamenting my own seemingly miserable life.

And yes I know I know, a lot of people in the world have it much worse than I do. I know I know, I shouldn’t compare myself to other people. But come on everyone does it. I’m just being honest here.