Thinking

Every so often I look around and blink. Then I think. But really think. That’s why I only do it every so often. The rest of the time I skip about, ignoring whistling. Any more than every so often and my head might explode. Reason being that, when I really think, things somehow gain a different perspective. In the blink of an eyelid, a tiny piece of glitter on the carpet morphs into a giant unicorn prancing about and the large mountain in the distance shrinks down to a pile of spilt sugar on the kitchen table.

Unfortunately, on the flipside, the smallish black hole beside it opens its gaping mouth baring sharp teeth, saliva dripping, and takes a deep breath that finds me whirling around toward it, sucked deep, like that little piece of glitter on the carpet, but into the ghastly vacuumcleanerblackhole.

I realise suddenly that I have a lot to think about. Okay, it’s not suddenly, I’ve known it all along, but I’ve been ignoring it, leaving it there on the floor, little sprinkles of glitter. It’s time to look beneath the glitter. I’m sure it’ll be good for me. Well, maybe. Or not.

I always read back these posts and think to myself, good grief, anybody reading this must think I’m the drama queen from hell. Maybe I am, but it’s my private thoughts vomited on paper and I’m trying SO hard to be honest.

I. Need. A. Holiday.

The floodgates have opened

I seem to just have so very many words in my head that want to tumble out now. It's great. I was really worried there for a while (many months). I thought I'd lost my Writing Voice. But now, it’s back, and the words are jumbling and stumbling and queuing to get out and I can’t get them out quick enough. So many things I want to write about and so many dreary-everyday things getting in the way.

Like work. Don’t get me wrong, I love my work (mostly) and feel like I do a very little bit of something that may help the world to be a better place, but, sometimes, just sometimes, I’d like to be in the middle of the Karoo, surrounded only by vast space, sky and air, alone with my thoughts and allowing them to just flow out. You know, to get rid of that queue in my head. They’re impatient those words, they’re crowding my mind, and the jostling is making me tired. In a good way though.

I need to write a post about the movies playing on the backs of my eyelids… I need to know if it’s only me that has their own drive-in cinema, installed in their head (I just can’t find the popcorn stand but, fear not, I won’t stop looking). I have things to say about childhood aromas – the smell of my grandparents… that kind of smell that invokes the feeling of being completely cosy. You know what I mean? When you are in bed in exactly the right comfy position, exactly the right temperature, perfectly fed, not thirsty, tomorrow is Saturday and you know you are loved… that feeling.

Oh, and so much more.

I will find the time, won’t I?