…the rest is still unwritten.

Where else but right here would you find a Natasha Bedingfield lyric in 2013?

So that’s a picture of my head.  It’s huge! (The picture and my head.)  I’ve started wearing dangly earrings again.  We haven’t chatted about dangly earrings in a while.  And yet the world still turns?!

Wearing dangly earrings again feels strange and exciting and no different from wearing not dangly earrings.

I promise this is about to get better.

Writing consistently requires loads of note taking.  I’m constantly writing stuff down, saving ideas in the ‘Notes’ section of my phone whilst taking for the traffic light to go green, scribbling sentences on the back of director’s treatments (sorry directors, I gotta do what I gotta do), on parking tickets, business cards, lunch slips.  Sometimes it’s a simple ‘write about …’, which is where yesterday’s post came from, sometimes it’s a whole paragraph, the beginning of a story, or just exactly what is happening where I am right then.  One note that remains a mystery says ‘write about bees and shoes’.  You guys, what could that mean?! I really can’t remember.

Here are a whole bunch of these kind of notes.  Little ideas that never made it to the light.  Until now.

I’m sitting in the hair salon and the girl in the chair next to me just answered her phone in the best french accent.  We’ve both been sitting here for an hour.  And just like that, she’s French.  All this time.  I feel like she should have told me.


I never know what to do when two people come into the space where you are and start talking softly to each other.  I mostly go with averting my eyes and looking like I’m thinking about something else.  Whilst secretly trying to eaves drop.  Because hushed tones mean interesting tales.

Everyday this week I have woken up at 5:28am.  5:28am is the time that people who step out of bed onto a treadmill, have two personal assistants and own shares in Woolworths, wake up.  I am not one of those people.

Whenever I have been away from home, it’s not the big things that I miss.  Those sunsets, open spaces, green, jungly gardens like no where else (although I do miss all of those too) it’s the little things.  An unbelievable newspaper headline, the smell of boerewors rolls cooking outside Checkers, the way that ladies walking home wear shopping packets on their heads to protect their hair from an afternoon thunderstorm.  The little things that if you aren’t looking can pass by unnoticed for a life time.  The little things that make a place what it is.  The freckles on sun kissed cheeks of a city ….

There is a man here wearing dungarees.  And he doesn’t look silly at all.  Really.  There is also a man here wearing no shoes.  He is carrying three library books.

I’d love to know, what do you do to quiet the voices?  The voices that say you can’t and shouldn’t and will be sorry.  The voices who ask, ‘Who are you to want such things? To dream such things? To believe such things?’  The voices that are extremely convincing that there is someone better for the job.  More qualified.  Smarter than you.  The voices that cackle like a Disney villain when you are brave or stand your ground or try something new.  I’d love to know the secret to making those tricksy little voices eat their words, six-little-meals-a-day.

 

‘…the rest is still unwritten. Oh yeah, yeah….’

 

 

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Comments

  1. AntK says:

    I love your take on ” the little things ” … that can go unnoticed

  2. London Kurt says:

    Great post! A little tip on the voices……. If ever you feel your brain is doubting you, simply say, “I approve of myself, I let you go”. Instantly you should feel more positive and less doubting :)

    Good luck!!

  3. Ms. Ameezing says:

    Hey London Kurt, that’s a great tip, thanks :)

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