I have been very lax in producing what is supposed to be a regular blog. For this, I can only partially apologise. While I realise that my procrastination was deliberate, the amount of time that has passed since my last post is considerably more than what I had realised. It is sometimes too easy for me to escape from reality by pursuing a total immersion into the pages of a book(s), feign interest in watching a random TV series on Netflix, or waste away the hours with the pointless surfing of useless drivel on the internet. Did you know that the seventh US president Andrew Jackson had a tattoo of a tomahawk on his leg? Had the Duke of Edinburgh not changed his surname in order to marry the future Queen Elizabeth II, he and his wife would be known today as Phil and Betty Glucksberg?
However, I usually catch myself when the escapism is bordering on a missing persons report, the man-cave smells like nicotine (which is a slap in my normally house-proud face. I tend to smoke outside), and my stubble has progressed to a shabby beard and a ring of grey hairs around my otherwise not-so-obvious bald spot. As much as living on your own can provide the freedom of selfish absorption, it can also deny you the simple gift of company and the lack of another voice to inform you that you’ve been living in tracksuit bottoms and a dressing gown for far too many days. The end result is always the same. I snap back to allowing fresh air and the outside world to pervade the solitary confinement. I congratulate myself for the work that I have completed (it’s not all about the pursuit of nothing in particular – I’m ready for my Geography test this week and am confident about the Politics exam), spruce myself back to a level of normalcy, and act on the conclusions that subconscious thought has produced. For you see, I’ve had a few things on my mind. This is always the case when I retreat into the depths of my cave. A knee jerk reaction to something that has made me step back and pause for thought.
It’s all about change.
About three weeks ago, I was struck with a raw awareness of how radically different my life had become in a relatively short amount of time. Now, I don’t refer to the weeks between matriculation and today (where are we… week 10?), but rather the short span of only a few years. Daily and weekly changes present themselves with more obvious colours that our limited attention spans can quickly grasp. The changes that are more gradual are less noticeable and take time to develop. Like watching plants grow or dust gather on a shelf.
It was a ‘stop and smell the roses’ moment that made me think…