I’ve not written many non-bookish posts lately. I suspect it’s because I’ve felt I’ve had nothing to say. Anything I really need to get off my chest I tend to do so on Facebook or Twitter. (And yes, if you follow me there, you’re very welcome!)
There are probably a few things marinating around inside my little mind however and – as I found a draft of an October check-in I’ve done nothing with – I thought I’d partake in a little brain dump here this month.
For reasons unknown I’ve not been in the mood to write any personal posts for a few weeks.
I’ve had a little bit on. My project management contract ramped up for a while there. I started a new part-time gig and then quit (long story). And my mum was in hospital for a couple of weeks so I was visiting daily.
She’s home now and I’m at her place (ie. my childhood home).
Of course just because I’ve not been blogging doesn’t mean I’ve not been blithering elsewhere…. #mylifeonTwitter
I was at a writing workshop a couple of weeks ago and the facilitator shared a quote… I didn’t actually make a note of the reference but think it’s fairly well known.
It was a memoir and personal essay session and the quote went something like… Just because you think you’ve got a story to tell doesn’t mean you have to tell it.
I’ve mulled over this from a ‘writing about crap of interest to no one’ perspective for a long time, but also more broadly as it kinda relates to where I’m at ‘life-wise’. (At least in a professional sense.)
I’d intended to post something today but was at a bit of a loss (and am also sick). I’m getting daily reminders (thanks Facebook memories!!!) that this time last year I was in Italy. Indeed on this very day last year I was perched outside eating gluten-free pasta with a delicious sauce while gazing at the Tuscan hills.
Recently I opened the notebook we received from Vanessa Carnevale at the writing retreat and found some exercises we’d done.
I decided to join Denyse Whelan’s blogging link-up today and the theme is… What is love?
I’m tempted to say… fucked if I know. But I guess that’s not true. I may not have been ‘in’ romantic love (which is kinda depressing given I’m 51 years old!). But I know love when I see it and I’ve certainly felt it (even though I rarely, if ever, say it!).
I wrote a while ago about the TV documentary series 7-up (14-up, 21-up…. etc) and commented that I liked the idea of looking at life in summary format. It makes the negatives less dire, and allows me to focus on the positives. But more recently I’ve been pondering about how differently those years can pan out. They can reflect periods of consolidation or of significant change.
I was struggling a little on the weekend. There was nothing major, just a few things colliding Bermuda Triangle-style making me edgy and irritable. The ongoing unemployment thing is obviously ever-present… as it’s almost a year since I finished my contract. Interestingly a similar position has come up with the same government agency but my confidence isn’t quite what it was, and I continue to ponder on how I was perceived.
I know I’ve moaned in the past about those who go on and on about some issue or life crisis. Those who can’t get past it and lets it define them. I’ve certainly been like that about a few things in my life, including my eating disorder.
I saw my father – for some years after his heart transplant – allowing it to become ‘who’ he was (ie. man who’d had a heart transplant)… in some ways, his previous 60 years on earth disregarded because of this life-altering event.
