Unlocked

In this confused world that I am in with thoughts about the world and it's dog stampeding through my brain every millisecond, it does seem a sensible idea to go back to being a thirteen year old, and trying to keep a diary, or a dairy. Blogging has never before really appealed to me, partially because I have never really wanted to put my thoughts down as I don't want them held in time, when often they are so disjointed, and I am never sure if I can really encapsulate what my thoughts are about, but blogging, well it seems to me to be a way of keeping a diary, but also leaving the key out for others to find. Why are we willing and why do we want complete strangers to read our ramblings? So what shall we ramble about today.....pause for thought.

Please don't think I am writing this for anyone else but myself, I have this notion that one day I am going to write a piece of fiction, and then ultimately be given time to write a biography about someone - (my aim would be about someone like Julia Margaret Cameron or Hill & Adamason, but that's for another time), but until that day happens, as I see that I need to practice writing, forming sentences that people will want to spend some of their precious time reading and just being able to sit down patiently and quietly willing the words to flow. So far so good.


So here I am, now sitting in this eternal place waiting for the words to flow, and believe me they are sitting waiting in a queue waiting to make their grand entrance - they have all taken a little supermarket ticket, and are waiting for the counter to call their number to the front, but I have ideas and no way, or knowledge on how to shape them. Shall I tell you about my day instead, or my last week - three weddings in ten days has to be a record for most people, or even some ideas on the fiction I want to write. Or shall I just tell you about my cats who want to share the keyboard to create their own blog, maybe their blogs should be call mogging.

So you chose my day, I'd have preferred to have told you about my weddings, more room for imaginative scope, and embellishment of characters, and hats. But my day, well, there was the usual business of the day being done in a large(ish) corporation behind the bland desks of corporate life, but underneath was the trauma of a disfunctional house sale that still rolls on, and the angst and emotion that house buying causes. It's hard because working with my other half over something as emotive as where you are going to live causes such angst and fear and also raises those fundamental security issues. It's so hard to sometimes establish what the other person is also wanting, you are one side of the negotiation team, yet inside the negotiation team you have your own board room to contend with. The house is hard, I know that Stuart really wants it and is battling his own demons in trying to do what's right, and in his old fashioned way, he is trying to provide for me - his wife. It's all very tough and draining. But that's not really telling you about my day, and as this is my first blog and in the spirit of writing a diary.

The warmth and security of the duvet woke me at 6:00am this morning, and I snuggled down with my feet hanging over the edge of the mattress, feeling warm and safe, then the alarm. With the alarm came the morning news, today's piece of despondency was that 1 in 5 doctors are aloholics and drug addicts, hey ho, join the rest of the population then. To shower, to kitchen, to car, to work, to office, to desk, to computer, to lunch.....to meeting, to next meeting, to desk, to office, to canteen, to office, to desk, to car, to home, to dance the tango round the kitchen with the one I love. That was my day.

Here endeth the first blog.

JJ