I’m not in a good mood.
I’m actually in a pretty foul mood.
When I started this blog, it was meant to be ‘showcase’ of sorts (ha! so fancy) of my favourite creative pieces. From advertising to art to funny Youtube videos and more.
It developed beyond that (although some may say it regressed) to a me-orientated platform. What is known as a lifestyle blog in the blogging world and a diary in the 1980’s.
The problem was.
The problem is.
When I first started the blog, I told people about it. I posted links to Facebook and I used my twitter handle in the URL.
I can’t talk about my bad mood because it isn’t something I want people to know about.
It isn’t something I want people I know to know about.
Surprisingly, contradictory , I’m quite a private person. I keep my cards close to my chest, I don’t like my emotions and my affairs to be a topic of conversation.
I don’t want people talking about it amongst themselves and I really don’t want people to try and talk to me about it.
I wouldn’t care at all if strangers read it.
But I don’t want people I know reading it.
It is this and my deep love of Gulasch mit Spaetzle where the German in me is most prominent.
So yes. I am in a bad mood. I am irritable, I am annoyed, I am sad, I am heavy.
I escape to Claire’s house where I lie on the floor on a Lightning McQueen blanket and read Dora the Explorer annuals, while she cooks dinner and cuts carrots in heart shapes.
I lost someone close to me, the closest to me.
And I have a deep, aching desire to throw clean underwear and my passport into my handbag and just take off. Arrive at the airport, point to the next flight on the departures board and say
There. I’m going there.