Write Right

Today, I have written without thinking.

I have a feeling that I’ve more to say on the subject of writing and in a way, starting to write again is a bit like going back to the beginning. The faltering, unsure posts saying nothing much and not being certain that anyone is even reading regularly. But if one person is, even intermittently, that’s enough, I don’t need nor want 10k followers. It’s okay to write as myself, about myself. Or about anything I want, even if it doesn’t have an ‘angle’ or an aim. It doesn’t mean I’m going back to the way things were. It just means I have things I want to say or document and that by imagining that there is someone reading means I am able to structure thoughts better. It means I think about how I construct my sentences, the vocabulary that I use – scanning my brain for synonyms when I find myself repeating words, or considering whether my grammar is actually correct. Am I over using alliteration? Then realising it doesn’t matter that much anyway, or if I don’t follow the 8 simple rules to make my blog the best, because all I need is it to work for me.

My blog is inextricably linked with sadness and reflection. It’s not all necessarily bad, naturally. Sometimes it’s an observation I want to keep hold of, a trip I want memories to last beyond photographs. Pictures are fantastic, of course, but some of my most treasured times are those that you don’t want nor need a camera to capture. Words can help with that. And sometimes, they are flowery and fancy and sometimes they are written purely for effect. Of course, I don’t actually talk like this. Writing happy is hard, I find – please, read and see, look how lucky I am and how great my life is!

Life has changed, so much, since the days of Turning Twenteen. I am not far off being in my thirs rather than twens and the blank canvas that is the next decade of my life stretches before me. I am making home improvements on a place that I live in, that now, someone is living in with me. I have newly-laid carpets and newly-acquired second-hand sofas. I have bought lampshades and have painted walls. I have a disposable income of my very own that is not a loan, and I can use it however I wish. I can spend Saturday evening reading, watching TV, playing a board game or going to bed at 9pm. I can spend my holidays in the UK, as I did earlier this year - visiting the town instead of the festival, and preferring it. Eating a dinner by candlelight with a meal made from can of mixed beans and microwave rice, a glass of red wine, and the sound of gentle jazz music streamed from Spotify. It may not be instagrammable or worthy of a foodie post but for me, as meals go, it was one of the finest. Not for the food, but for the company, the memory, and the content realisation that at that moment, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

 It feels like things are falling into place.

Flitterbox: Clean Bandit ft Jess Glynne ~ Rather Be