I’ve not been writing that much recently. Because I didn’t want to.
Life is good right now. Secretly, I know these are, in actual fact, the best days of my life. The best days I will ever have. Because I am free to spend as much time as I like with my daughter Izobel. The love of my life that, perversely, I am training with all of my heart to leave me. My one and only chance of living forever. That is, honestly, enough for these to be the best days of my life. But there’s more.
I’m (quite) fit because I am trapped inside a tight and repetitive kickboxing training pattern. I have been trapped here for 4 years. And it’s great.
I’m isolated from people. Which means I can rediscover myself. Think about what I want. Do what I want.
I am thinking more about what I consume. Good and bad food. Good and bad internet. I watch far too much mindless shit on Instagram. And I also watch reaction videos of humans crying and shaking as they watch Hi Ren on YouTube. I watch this over and over. It reminds me what creativity actually is. And what is not creative at all.
And as I am writing this, Sting is on the telly playing Shape of my Heart live. And, after, George Michael sings whateverhechoosestosing, perfectly, at the Palais Garnier in Paris in 2012.
When I am in this place, away from echo chambers, peers and clients, I’m different. I am much me-er.
All I have to do now, as I prepare to bob back to being a Brand and Marketing Director (for hire, for a bit) in 2027, is avoid the deadening trap that always results in the great reaveraging of me.
Because when I start thinking, once again, about what friends might say to and about me, what fellow comms people might think and say about me, and what clients might think and say about me, I can feel myself becoming… average. Again.
I have a unique view on the world. And my work. As do we all. And when I return this time, I have decided that I am going to keep it.