Thursday, January 21, 2016

My last post was rather nostalgic, and overtly selfish- for the new year I shall focus only on that which makes me happy. Because obviously it is only MY happiness that matters. 

That sounds like me in one of my more petulant moods, though it does seem to be a recurring theme in my life. Trying to make other people happy only ends in dissatisfaction and deflated expectations. However negative I may be sounding at current, I am actually grinning at a song that has begun to play, enjoying the luxury of time to myself to do what it is I love; to write, to draw, to create, to be me.

What Can I  Do? A very good question Rufus Wainwright. What else can I do but be myself? Even if that is occasionally selfish, conceited, arrogant and rude? I have the music just loud enough that I can't hear the outside world, and it's not the song itself that brings me joy, but rather the memories that have clung to the poetical words sung from a mouth more honest than my own. 

Had I spent the time to think or begun to plan my year as so many of my contemporaries have done, I would certainly say that my life has diverged somewhat from the original course I had set out on. But that in itself is why I do NOT plan. How can you guess what life will throw at you? 

Love? Death? Birth? Marriage? Natural disasters? Even those who claim to have a so-called-gift would never bet anything more their name on some of these occurrences that are just that... Inexplicable occurrences. It is a good idea to have a broadly, sketched-in-pencil, vague idea of what you would like to happen in your life. But a concrete plan? 


You're tempting Mother Nature to throw her worst at you, and I have no longing to enter into a game of wits with my goddess.

So, this year... Three weeks in and already I am claiming failure. Although I disagree with myself. I feel that the current turn of events (though slightly unexpected) are for the best. A positive influence that I wouldn't have dared to imagine. But then, only time will tell.

D. S.

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