I’ve been avoiding this blank page for more than a year – everybody knows. Even I know.
Blame the fact that I don’t get to write in a note-book on a slow train through the suburbs of Cape Town, that I don’t have time to myself – that I’m living the weirdly regulated life of a tread-mule: blame it all and you still won’t have hit the nail on its dull little head.
I could say that I lost my mojo, my sense of rhythm when I took the social media critics to heart, but people have tried stepping on me to make themselves seem taller in the past and it never shut me up before.
Maybe it’s because I’m lonely and hungry for conversation: I miss the stimulation of my smart, funny and fabulous people at home. Sure, we talk, but time+distance means every chat is a catch-up; a pit-stop just to check we’re all still OK. These are not the long and pleasurable strolls up and down each other’s thoughts over endless cups of tea/glasses of wine.
Please understand: I’m surrounded by smart and funny people here, but we still have to get to know one another. It feels like some part of my mind hasn’t eaten properly for a year.
So, it’s down to social media and series to binge-watch, and all the beautiful, stern and playful words get wasted on little bursts of sarcasm via Twitter.
Truth is, all of those things form part of my silence, but there’s another cause: I just don’t know what to say.
I have too much and too little to talk about – a paragraph is just enough to be misunderstood and an explanation would be too damned long to read. So I do what people do when they feel overwhelmed: I give a shrug of resignation and I escape: to Twitter, binge-watching or a game.
Instead of writing, I play Patience – how sad is that?
So, I wrote something.
See you tomorrow. 🙂