Skip to main content

The Muddle

There are so many thoughts and stories I WANT to share...and yet, I'm not quite in the headspace to articulate them properly yet.

Inspriation always seems to come when I got hands full of groceries or house keys or lets face it, a nice cold G&T.

And yet, there's never a laptop nearby when the feeling strikes.

I do carry around notebooks. But sometimes I feel like THAT STUFF just ends up sounding like a dramatic drunken ramble, regardless of whether I've been sipping any of the devil's poison.

I have talked about feeling inspired by typing. And I suppose this is very 'uncreative' in a way but hey, we've all seen Carrie on Sex and the City. That girl's not hunting down her Moleskin.

I think maybe that's the voice I hear in my head. Not Carrie's voice, but a version of that voice that is less "oh-who-should-i-love-today" and more "which-patio-has-the-best-sun-for-reflection-and-of-course-alcohol".

But it's that same vein. That starting out with a very self depricating tone (oh I suck why don't I write more) and ending on the 'learning' note, (wow, REAL lime DOES taste better in G&Ts) to give the reader just that little bit of insight into my grey anatomy.

In no way am I directly comparing my writing to SATC, just more the VOICE that narrates the program. That voice that you hear at the beginning and JUST KNOW in the end will teach you a valuable lesson without you realising it.

Like a magician discovering the card you picked.

Sometimes I'm not even sure where the post will end up. It starts one place and I just hope, eventually, it ends up somewhere that makes sense. Or at least that make people think. And since my Gemini mind is thinking of 10 different things at a time, I'm just happy if there are a few people out there who feel the slight satisfaction of the end of a story when I'm done.

I don't always know where it will end. But maybe that's the beauty of writing, specifically a blog. That stream of consciousness that you allow people to hear you brain fart as it's flowing out of your fingers.

And in the end, if you can score a pair of Prada shoes the way Carrie does, well then, you're doing alright.

Comments

neoinileias said…
you have nice blog...
Travelling Chick said…
thank you very much! back at you...

Popular posts from this blog

I'm baaaack!

Hard to believe that last entry was almost three years ago! Many moons ago, I set this blog up to chronicle our journeys. Once we were grounded a bit more, it kind of lost its way. I spent some time working on my writing offline, taking on different projects and working full time as a technical writer. It was difficult to keep this blog up. Not for any real reason I can articulate. Just had my words redirected to other avenues for awhile. But, I'm pleased to say, after over a decade away, we are back in the UK, living and re-experiencing a place we enjoyed in the mid-2000s. Social media has certainly changed the way we look at blogs. I'm excited to navigate this new world, explore just what people post, what people read. What's better on one of the many new platforms and what's still appropriate for good old fashioned blogosphere. For now, here's a peek at where we're staying -- in a pretty little village just outside of Oxford. A temporary home ...

Room with a view

We've been in our new home for 10 weeks nos and it's feeling more like home than ever. Every day, I sit down at my desk to the most inspiring view. A collection of stories is building. This space makes it easy to gather my thoughts. I've been consumed with a few work projects and am looking forward to collecting my thoughts soon. Writers club is still going ... I was on a bit of a hiatus but hope to get into my routine for fall. For now, boat gazing is helping.

In Remembrance

" In Flanders fields the poppies blow       Between the crosses, row on row, ." When I was eight years old, I carried the Canadian flag in the Remembrance Day parade for our Brownie unit. I can't really remember when I realized the importance of November 11 but I can only imagine that somewhere between learning about that day at school and taking part in a very solemn ceremony that it must have been ingrained in my head to always mark this day.    "That mark our place; and in the sky    The larks, still bravely singing, fly" I remember growing up, the assemblies at school, always with a older veterans, in those days many from both World Wars, would attend. When I got to high school, I remember not being able to fathom how these decorated men and women, had once been my age, had once stood up and fought, and had made these decisions during the same years I would try to decide which route to take from En...