Today seems like as good a day as any to start….
I used to love writing. My oldest friend and I used to joke that she had the imagination and I had the punctuation. I loved creative writing and once got completely lost in an English exam and forgot I was even there. Sadly those days are gone. The more I was required to write throughout University the less natural it became, until one day I was sat in my dad’s basement on the other side of the world with 6 weeks in which to write a 75,000 word thesis. The only way I got through was to bribe myself with 10 minutes of a period drama (!) for every 20 minutes of writing I did. Maybe I should finally read it (3.5 years after handing it in) and see if any Mr Darcys slipped in there by mistake. Here’s hoping.
I now write for a living, but the love I had for crafting words together is long gone. It’s suffocating at the thought of being read. I have even started doing that now as I re-read this and try to resist the overwhelming urge to delete everything slightly personal, embarrassing, well actually, just everything. I wonder where the urge to blog comes from. What is it that makes us want to both share our stories and to collect the stories of others? It’s such a solitary act, yet as soon as I publish this it is available to be seen by anyone and everyone, for ever. I feel like I’m 7 again. We’re at the theatre with my grandparents and I’m the shyest 7 year old you can imagine. Yet when they ask for children to come up on stage at the end I’m the first one there. I don’t know why I’m there, I just know that I want to be.
So why get back on the wagon today? It seems the most unlikely of days. I have yesterday’s feedback from my latest piece of writing echoing around my head (it was better 6 months ago- yes the version that someone else wrote…ouch) while I’m sat on the sofa still reeling from my first run in with the police for speeding and have just noticed a rogue patch of dried puke I must have missed when I caught my 2 year old son’s projectile vomit for the third time this week. It’s not that there has been nothing to write about. Quite the contrary. Life has been an amazing whirlwind of studying, parenthood and emigration.
I guess today is the convergence of a few things. I visited a palm reader in a moment of weakness (and me a scientist!) a couple of weeks ago I guess as a link to my gypsy past (or a stereotype anyway). It was actually more insightful than I thought it would be, or than I would like to admit and he suggested started a diary or a blog. I’ve also been researching my gypsy heritage and doing some career soul-searching. Maybe I feel like I’ve lost the sparkly, ambitious go-getter I was in my teens (or maybe we all do?) and finding out more about my ancestry will reveal more about who I am and who I’d like to be. Anyway, it all seems connected.
So I guess this will be a bit of an exploration into my past through my ancesters…Feel free to join me for the journey.