The problem with blogging is that unless you are really clever, the posts are invariably about your own personal neurosis. Surely? Questions you need to ask yourself. Things you want to offload. Stuff that you need to say out loud but can’t because to say it to no-one would make you crazy and to say it to someone would undoubtedly result in a response and people wouldn’t say the right thing and it would all end in tears. (yup, grammar still eludes me).
Or am I being over quizzical here? Is that even a word? I’m gonna say yes since MS Word hasn’t put a little wiggly line beneath it.
I’ve just had a week off. I know, you probably all realised because of my lack of blog last week. (Don’t worry, I know you don’t hang off my every word). We had friends down, and it was lovely. Cramped, but lovely. And I had already decided to have it as a week’s holiday as I technically haven’t had any time off since May, despite leaving work last month. I was so keen to ensure that my aforementioned (in another blog, missed it? missed out!) early on-set mid-life crises was not in vain, that each morning after the school run I’ve sat at my laptop typing a stream of bilge into a word document.
I say this because at 28583 words, 3.5 of which I wrote today, I’m fairly certain that’s all it is. But today, I’ve also decided that the last 19 years of my career have been built on nothing but winging it and that I’m good for nothing except my new found skill for baking ‘nana’ biscuits. I swear. They’re amazing.
So where does one go when they have jacked in their job and are essentially vomiting words that no-one will ever read? At this moment in time, slanket casually thrown over my shoulder, cold cup of tea next to me – I’m thinking the kitchen, for a warm cup of tea… and to turn the heating up. Then I may sit on my bed, look out the window and panic that I’ll never amount to anything.
Hopefully, after that, I’ll collect my children, they will remind me that none of this matters and I can go to bed tonight in the knowledge that tomorrow will be a brand new day. A day in which the words will still be vomited, but at least itll be closer to finishing a first draft. And a day in which I can get through the pain that is this self-inflicted state of self-loathing.
So when I look at it like that, maybe it’s not so bad.