Apparently I met someone a couple of times when I was very drunk over the last year or so. Based on our brief encounter, in which I rambled something about cats and then continued to skank/mosh, he decided I was interesting and tracked me down through a friend. He asked me out for a drink sometime. In a completely out of character way, slightly because this year I’m embracing the answer ‘yes’, that is what I said.
He picked me up in his campervan called Karl-Barry. We went to a arty pub and he refused to let me pay for my strawberry Looza. He spoke of his incredible lone travels and his plumbling/sky diving occupancies. He was so interesting. He kept talking, but that was fantastic because I was intrigued and it meant he wanted me to know him. He wanted to share his mind with me.
He spoke of an occasion where he met a girl for a banana pancake and a coffee (to which I squealed, “Jack Johnson!”) They only spoke for an hour and then he never saw her again.
I have this feeling I may be a banana pancake. Or we could call it a strawberry Looza. This chap was so interesting. Flew in out of nowhere and made my reality surreal. I don’t know what it is. Sometimes you just meet people that you could happily listen to without contribution. I sat there like a wide eyed, bouncy little 21 year old girl, hypnotised by his outlook. It was that feeling I get when I’m watching a Ghibli film, or Into The Wild, or something magical. I wish I could be a part of the adventure. Truth is; that reality, with a little work, could be mine too.
It’s coming. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I can feel it nearing. I’m about to spread my wings a little. Discover whether I am a kiwi bird or a seagull. Discover whether I am still that little girl with the thirst for adventure and the courage to persue it. I need to do this. I need to get out of my bubble. Not pop it. Just put it somewhere safe so that I can regain direct contact with the world again.
I spend too much time being afraid of the world outside.
I’m going to make fairy steps this time. I always aim too high. I need to find a place to start.
I dreamt I bought the cat sanctuary a couple of nights ago. I did it up and it was a wonderful place chock-a with happy cats and a happy Soph. Perhaps that’s where I’ll be :’)
There is a huge creative gap. I see life as an art project. A blank sketchbook is an exciting, yet daunting prospect. We try things, make mistakes, try new things, experience creative block and frustration. Art teachers will always tell us not to throw our work away, but to draw conclusions and carry them to the next page. There is always another page. I want my sketchbook to be filled with diversity.
I would like to approach life as a daring artist with passion. I want to hop around the globe carrying out random acts of kindness, meeting an array of characters and filling the pages of my life and a literal scrapbook.
I’m all talk at the moment, but it’s coming.