A Change of Plan. And a Caterpillar.


‘I think I have writer’s block’, I tell my brother, Ty, when he asks about my lack of blog posts.

‘No you don’t', he replies. ‘Just not writing is not the same as Writer’s Block.’

And dang, in that moment, I realise that he is completely right.  Not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it, being unsure if it is good or not, all of that just equals not writing.  And not doing what you love out of fear or apathy or ‘losing your nerve’ sounds like crazy talk.  Crazy talk that very quickly becomes time that passes, leaving a unsettling emptiness, an unfinished sentence, a half drunk cup of tea.

So here’s what I am going to do.  I’m going to write.  Everyday.  Here. For a month.  Seven days a week.  I’m not sure yet what I will say.  Or how I will say it.  But I’m going on a diet.  A diet of words, to shed apathy and fear and well, more apathy.  Words for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Words.

A month of words.

Hello tummy butterflies.  Let’s begin…

2012 will always be known as the year that I learnt that my whole life I had been spelling ‘surprise’ and ‘definitely’ wrong.  Suprise and definately. Never again, you guys.

Happiness and Joy.  Two totally different things. Happiness wears the chic gumboots, but joy, joy dances in the rain.

Men (especially tall ones) who put the date on birthday cards.  Is there anything sweeter? No. The answer to that questions is no. No.

‘Be the type of person you want to meet’ – I read that yesterday and I think it may have been a game changer.  A big, ol’ life game changer.

I’m going to stop feeling shy about things that people make fun of.  Yes, I like Instagram, yes, I wear skinny jeans and have black framed glasses. Yes. Yes. Yes!

On Sunday, after lazing on a blanket in the garden for a while, I kept saying to The Tall One that I had ants in my pants. Crawling around in my skinny jeans, tickling my behind, just like that.  Eventually, feeling fairly certain that I was going crazy, I took my jeans off to shake them out.  And the ants? Well no, there were no ants.  Just a caterpillar. A green, wrinkly caterpillar crawling around in my jeans. How had he got there? Why was he there? All good questions.

The wonderfully squilchy sounds of fallen jacaranda flowers under car tyres.  That sound means that trees have blossomed, it has stormed and you’re moving through Joburg.  All good things.

You guys, see you tomorrow.

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Comments

  1. Movan says:

    Good solution and resolution. Well done! :-) x x

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