So yesterday began a certain mile stone in my life. I suppose it was the day i finally started to entertain the idea that i might be a writer. If not a writer then perhaps a person who likes words? Actually i think the obvious way to put it is i have a lot of thoughts and i like to talk a lot so it would make sense that writing would be the next avenue. You see you cant talk someones ear off all night long but you can certainly type on a blog all night long.
So anyway after i debuted my blog yesterday i felt a unfamiliar flutter of happiness and achievement. Is that slightly pathetic considering i only have one follower and it happens to be my brother in law who joined but didnt actually read my blog! "too long" he complained before willing me over to view his more exciting blog which features videos, multiple postings, fun facts and pretty pictures. His blog also has a purpose as it is all about his business. My blog is like a tweenage girls diary. Interesting to me but not so much to others.
But anyway getting back on the sense of achievement and happiness i felt yesterday after finishing my first entry, it struck me as interesting that something so simple brought me such joy. Writing has always been something i loved doing but pushed aside due to work commitments, social life etc and before i knew it days began rolling into months, months rolling into years until now at 27 i am yet to do anything to do with writing. My page is blank and my book is still unwritten.
I knew when i was 6 that i wanted to write. I used to write short stories and beg my mum to publish them for me. In year 5 i wrote a story called 'My Pet Monkey' that was a finalist in the Toronga Zoo writing competition. And in year 10 i wrote a love story called Surfing Safari which impressed my sister who mistook it for an actual story written by a proper author when she discovered print outs in our bathroom (classy i know - proofing on the toilet. I call it multi tasking). The story revolved around two central characters Jacko and Sarah who fell inlove whilst surfing tubes and chasing waves off the Queensland coast. I actually remember researching surfing magazines for correct surfing terminology so my tale was authentic. Where's the dedication gone people? Where did i get my inspiration from back then? The two characters are oddly convincing. How did i manage such conviction at only 15 years old?
These days i struggle to make up a story to my niece. The characters usually being pretty horses who have magic powers and grant 3 wishes. Not very original. Have i put my creativity on hold for so long it has escaped me? or is it like a bear hibernating for the winter?? A very loooong winter it seems.
My question is do we know from a young age exactly what we want to be? But as we get older we abandon it and push it away?
They say if you do what you love you will be happy but so many people don't. We get scared about money, mortgages and having possessions. We have to own a house by 30 dont we?
It strikes me as interesting that people are giving up what they love and not even realising it. Are we on autopilot?
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