Rock N Roll

I feel like I owe my blog some sort of essay that isn’t about film, though for the life of me I can’t think which topic to pick. So a freestyle post it is. These are usually the most honest, if flawed pieces, right? This may be a bad idea.

I’m going to start with what’s most prominently on my mind: Age.

I’m in a rut. I’m 38 years old, the wrong side of 35 and when did that happen? My thirties have been my best, of course they have but they’ve shot by and now I’m here mildly fretting about the impending 40. Forty fucking years old.

I remember my mother’s 40th birthday party, which was thrown in our house by her cousin, who lived round the corner with our cousins. If you knew my mum (who I am very much like) you would be able to picture her face when she found out what was going on. I was ten and enjoying the party as ten years old do, through the milling legs of the adults, admiring tarty high heels and asking for sips of alcohol like a maniac.

How am I almost there myself?

Rather than lamenting the passing of time here though I think I’m going to draw a line under my fear, take a deep breath and move it forward. Like what do people who are nearly 40 do? Plan a party and freshen up their Bucket List? Get a drastic new haircut and take a lover? I’m down with all of the above, though the lover part sounds exhausting and/or messy. I’m pretty sure I’d prefer a weekend away to a house party too but I guess that’s down to the people who love me, they plan these things right?

Oh God.

But this rut, it has a lot to do with the turning of the tides but I guess it comes with being in any place for a long period of time, doesn’t it? I still have no clue what I want to be doing with my time. I’m neither creatively fulfilled nor rich as shit. I haven’t had kids but I also don’t have a career.

What am I expecting though? Exactly the right job for me to come knocking one morning, asking me out to play? Life doesn’t work that way and it shouldn’t either, aren’t we taught that nothing worth having comes that easy? Too right.

Okay. This is what I’m going to do. Stop beating myself about not being on the property ladder, not being one of those glossy chicks or on any sort of career path – and just be thankful for what I do have. Health, friendships and a good relationship. Booty. A job that might not be forever but that let’s me work with people I really like. An income that supports my ASOS addiction.

And I’m going to make a plan. A list of little plans even, that lead me towards a bigger plan. A life plan of epic proportions – there’s still time. 40 is only really 21 these days, innit?

I need to remember that age is more than just a number, despite what they say. It’s scary and it marks the steady flow of time getting away from us but it also represents experience and life stories, and I would never go back, not even a year, or a week. Even a day.

The other night I was talking to a friend and she said,”If I get to the end and I still have this life and the same circle of friends, even if I don’t meet anyone, I will die happy”, and I thought, that’s perfect. I want to feel that way too.

I’m going to get out there and kick rut in his arse (being weighed down by an unseen entity? It’s got to be male). I’m going to prove to myself that almost-40 is fucking fabulous, crow’s feet and all.

I might even think about this bucket list but I’m not jumping off anything high or swimming with any living thing. Thems the rules.

Try a New Posting Style

Not me, but she looks like a poet (sort of)
Not me, but she looks like a poet (sort of)

Today’s assignment: build your storyteller’s toolbox by publishing a post in another format or a style you’ve never used before. Via The Daily Post’s Blogging 101 program (1st October 2014)

I wrote a poem.

I googled How to Write a Poem
Before I started this poem
Try another format they said
And I thought poem

Am I a poet?
Do I have a poet’s soul?
I like the Autumn and the leaves
Believe in karma

Am I a poet?
I once wrote an ode to the Pumpkin Spice Latte*
I think deep thoughts and am unhappy at work
I can be a poet

Try another format they said
Try something new
All I want to do that is new is walk out of the office
And wander the streets with no plan

I know I won’t do that
Give it all up to be a poet
Give it all up to be a poet
After one bad day

Instead I will write my poem
With no guidance from the internet
And I will sit back
A part-time, one-time poet

I don’t know if you can tell but I did this freestyle, no help from Google. It was quite fun.

Not sure if I have a healthy career ahead of me as the English Maya Angelou but that’s okay. Nobody will ever fill the shoes of such a phenomenal woman anyway.

*Just looked through my archives and it was an Eggnog latte actually.