OK, I am going to admit something here. When I was single, I was quite jealous of people in relationships. Not bad relationships, because who has time for that? But the good, solid, heart-melt relationships. I have a boyfriend now, and he’s quite lovely. So lovely in fact, that I would be jealous of myself if that were possible. Even though it isn’t, I am a little bit. I asked him if I could write this on here, and he said yes. See? Lovely.
Since we’ve established that I’m a little bit jealous of myself, I’ll admit something else. I’m on a roll, here. I’m a little bit jealous of people with jobs. Not in an I-feel-sorry-for-myself kinda way. More in an I’m-very-enthusiastic-and-I’d-like-to-work kinda way. People have asked me if I work, and if I like my job. I’ve liked all the jobs I’ve had, yes. And I’d like another one now.
I’m not very good with boredom. I used to think that boredom didn’t exist. Or at the very least, was invented as an excuse for people with no imagination. I was wrong.
I do a lot of things in the name of ‘research’. (For my writing. Though maybe not this kind of writing). Everything is research. Life is research. I go to parks, I go to movies by myself in the afternoon, I have dinner in restaurants by myself in the evening, waiting for Sarge (the lovely boyfriend) to finish work and meet me at the cinema, so we can see another movie.
I do these things, because I think out of all of it I will formulate some great, better than ever sentences that I will ‘use somewhere later’. I think I’ll find the switch that will turn an unfinished piece back on, and that lady on the bus on some random Monday at 11.37 is a new character. I do this, because it’s ‘good for my writing’. And maybe because I am bored. There are only so many movies you can watch before you’ve seen all the good ones, and some bad ones, too. There are only so many pinball points to rack up. Or as I like to call it, ‘working out a plot-point’.
I go to the Botanic Gardens and actually smell the roses, because I can. There’s ‘nowhere else to be’. Even though I am applying for jobs, I’ve yet to find one to go to every day.
I have to smell the roses and play games and watch movies and read to keep myself occupied, and then I have to write about it. Because I don’t watch Jeremy Kyle. I do watch Judge Judy, though.
Now I must apply for another job. Or go off in search of a spark that will light the end of an unfinished story.
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