The Art of Wasting Time

Dolce Far Niente - John William Waterhouse

I have often thought myself to be a Jack-of-all-Trades, the silent "Master of None", always quite audible to my mind. I was an all rounder at school (except sports which I forgoed as soon as I realised that my lack of co-ordination, read concentration, meant that I would have to work extra hard to be just average.

Since leaving University I have walked through my professional career believing that I am decent at most things I try my hand to, but not especially exceptional at anything. I have since realised that this is perhaps an ingrained mental belief in “not being good enough” that finds safety in hippity hopping between skills and completing them with passable ability rather than stepping out of the safe box and owning brilliance in something or other.

It is a classic trait of insecurity and something I am now trying to rectify. In leaving a traditional, full time, salaried job, I am having to learn to fight against all these learnt instincts. My life and career is now what I make of it and I need to believe I am the best person to do X, Y, Z.

This is especially true in the novel and play that I am writing. For the best friends of Jack-of-all-Trades are Unfinished Projects, Procrastination and the skill of Wasting Time.

The amount of times I have said I wanted to do something whether that be enter a particular writing competition, join a rowing club, a drama club, do the three peaks challenge etc and not completed it are innumerable. Sometimes it has taken me three hours to make a phone call to, for example, the dentist to make an appointment. My talent in time wasting is exemplary.

Gone West... Life is Peaceful Here

I'm currently in Cornwall. On my own. I'm still working for clients. And I'm trying to write. Trying really hard. The beauty of being freelance is that I can work from anywhere really, as long as there is a good WiFi connection and power. I can go anywhere.

So I decided to trundle off to Cornwall because I am lucky enough to be able to stay here free.. And it is beautiful. I am situated in a tiny village called Kingsand which is on the Cornwall / Devon border of the South West Coast path. I can walk for miles and miles with beautiful views over the coast and cliffs. I have already seen at least thirty butterflies since I have been here.

It's kind of my safe place. My place of firsts too, I've been coming here for 22 years. I saw my first brawl outside a pub, I also saw a stripper here when I was about ten; it was someones birthday in a pub and I stood on an outside table to see what was going on. I think I first got really drunk here when I was 15 too.

Shamed by Clutter

Even the word clutter makes me shiver with anxiety. Its onomatopoeic potency - at least to me - is such that I imagine myself being buried alive by piles of paperwork, old fancy dress costumes and chargers for unknown phones or laptops that I am just too scared to throw away.

The thing is - as you may realise - I actually don't like clutter, but for some reason in the last three years I have let the stuff accumulate. And in the last few months before I quit my job, it was so bad there were just some drawers I wouldn't dare open.

This past week, I have been spending a lot of "freelance time" sorting, throwing away, tidying, cleaning. I have discovered a cacophony of obscure objects that bring back memories, but crowd my space. Three Union Jack flags from the Jubilee, two fancy dress soldiers' hats, three sets of Christmas lights, mail belonging to housemates that lived with me three years ago, health drinks that went off in 2013. Parking tickets and solitary placemats, candles with no wick and calendars well past their dates. Numerous bits of electricals and nails and scraps of paper, crusty nail varnishes, men's scarves, a book on the Karma Sutra that I definitely didn't buy...

The thing is, I'm trying to clear my head - to clear my vision. Working from home and trying to write a novel as well as searching for commercial work, I need an inspiring environment. And all this chattering clutter is not helping. Objects remind you of times gone by, of feelings gone by, they shame me with the person I have been sometimes. I don't need them here... haunting me, taunting me. I'm detoxing my life... and most of it has got to go.

So that's why I haven't written for a while... I've been in the midst of clutter Cold Turkey and it's killed my voice for a bit. But I feel it's back, stronger and more sure of itself now. 12 steps of freedom.

xx

Search Party

 

Search Party

I think you're lost little darling,
Your soul has wandered off.
The blank stares,
No trivial cares,
Quiet and then the rage
That sits within you sometimes -
Ignore the rhymes.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm here,
To listen to your woes, dispel your imaginary foes.
There is something in you that calls out to me,
I just want to soothe you until you see
How fucking unique -
A fascinating freak
You are.
Because what you have done and achieved,
You helped others breathe
And created a space where people felt worthy.
To me, you are magic
Your story isn't tragic.
Stop making it so.
The most complicated, mixed-up minds in life
The ones that create and help the most
Are often left sobbing when they're not playing host,
But you can choose a different way.
Cliches say,
Live day-to-day.
Choose joy instead of self-flagellation;
Pass by that station.
Put your shoes on and step out today,
(No need to make hay)
Don't absorb the world's troubles.
Think about glitter and bubbles,
Feather boas and plasticine,
Other things that make one scream
With joy at the nonsensical silliness of it all.
And if that doesn't work my friend,
You can depend
On the many that love you.
Who would sit and count sheep
Or listen to music on repeat
Or talk and talk and talk and talk
Until the planes begin to fly again.
I am one of those my darling, you know it too.
I would spend my lifetime helping you find your soul.
I would paint pictures of joyful things,
Write you stories, buy you beautiful gifts.
I would stay up all night Googling happy news for you to read
Give a speech on your qualities, whether you agreed -
Or not.
Your magic, your kindness, that limitless smile.
Your souls is not lost,
It has only gone away for a while.

The Last Hurrah - Glastonbury Sunday

Apologies for the delay in this post. The thing is we left Our campsite at 5am on Monday morning after three and a half hours sleep and then I felt like I had jet lag all day Monday and Tuesday not much better. 

The final day was magical really. We started off with a subtle set from Hozier, his voice is OMFG. 

After that we spotted Alexa Chung and Pixie Geldof backstage smoking and a little while later, Caroline Flack who is beautiful and Polly Pocket sized. I almost bumped in to her when I came out of the loos she's is so small. Sorry I didn't take any photos but I was too busy trying to look unbothered behind my raybans. And yes for whoever is asking (my mates), Alexa was v v skinny and doll beautiful.