I'm not going to apologise for the sizeable hiatus since my last post. I'm not Single Dad Laughing. I'm me. And I'm not trying to build a big blog here. Actually I'm not sure where this blog is going at all. Will it ever be a mum blog other than in name? A blog about writing perhaps? Or going after your dream? I have no idea. I change my mind a lot.
But I write because it's my passion. And I hope to write always. For the rest of my life. Every. Single. Day. But I've made a pact with myself. My growing flock of -woohoo- seven followers (hello followers!) will be glad to hear it's an anti-spam pact. I'm only going to blog when I've got something to say. No more horse manure. Enough self-deprecatory "I can't find my muse" posts. I promised my sister-in-law I'd stop calling myself a wannabe, at least on the writing front. (I suspect that as a mum I'll always be somewhere on the journey to calm, rather than taking up permanent residence there...)
Enough about me. What's your passion? What's your dream? Has it been a while since you thought about it? Dust it off. Re-visit it. Breathe some life into it. Where do you want to be five years from now? How about ten? Or twenty? A quick look at how you spend your days will give you a good idea where you are heading. (Ahem. I feel a self-imposed Facebook ban coming on...)
The existentialists say that our actions define us and how we spend every moment of every day makes us the person we are. Labels don't. They breed complacency. (Compare "I'm a writer" with "I write"). The past is irrelevant. Now is what matters. Until the moment we die, all we have is the present. We are not our past achievements or our mistakes; we are continually reinventing ourselves. And that can only happen in this instant. Right Brand-Spanking-New Now.
So grab life with both hands. Blow raspberries in the face of convention. Do something you've never done before. Hug a tree. Live your passion. Become your dream. And stick two fingers up at the judgemental bastards who sneer or put you down. Poor them.
I for one don't want to die with my music still in me. I didn't make that up, by the way, Jurgen Wolff did (author of Your Writing Coach ). But he's got a bloody good point. What does your music sound like? And are you belting it out at the top of your lungs?
Right, I'm off to hug that tree. See you when I'm next feeling inspired. Could be a week, a month or maybe even more. I'll still be writing in the meantime though. Just chucking lots more bits of paper at the bin.