I write this on a train to Swansea, that has just left Reading station. I use this as the start of this blog purely as an exercise in vanity. To the unknowing reader, this statement is fairly empty and has little immediate meaning, hopefully prompting an inquisitive mind to keep going. To those who know me, this fact is wholly alien and unusual. Why? I live in Epsom, to the south west of London, quite some distance from here, so to find me this far flung from my quiet home in Surrey is certainly not the norm. Or at least it wasn't until recently.
You see, my life has taken a strange turn of events lately, and like one Mr. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, I feel I am running out of my comfort zone into a wild and open world, yelling "I'm going on an adventure!" to anyone who will listen, and you, unwittingly, have just become someone who will listen. I hope.
So, before I really delve into the details, I wanted to, as per tradition, explain why I have decided to start this blog. As already stated, to a certain point it's an exercise in vanity, pure and simple, and beyond that point, it's a platform for me to write and externalise my thoughts. You see, I call myself a Writer. Once upon a time, I would instead use the term 'Wannabe Writer' or some such, but then I realised that, unpublished though I may be, I write, therefore I am a Writer. Perhaps one day I may realise the dream and, from this chrysalis, emerge a fully fledged and beautiful 'Published Writer' or 'Author', or I may just end up as an 'Also Ran' at the bottom of innumerable agents and publishers inboxes.
Regardless, having spoken with several 'Published Writers', all of hither suggested that I should keep writing, not just the fantasy and sci-fi prose, but other things too. Broaden my horizons, experiment and, well, just write for the sake of writing.
So that's what I'm doing, and damnation to any proper structure, I'm doing this my way. Which is to say, start at the beginning, continue to the end, then stop. I won't be editing these posts or going back and rewording sentences. I'll write until I'm done then post it. I actually wish my iPad had 3G, as I'm going to have to post this when I get home tomorrow - I'd much prefer it to be raw and fresh, but them's the brakes.
Since taking up my iPad again and letting the words flow (as one 'Published Writer' put it) I have opened myself to a whole new outlook on life. I have dreams, and those dreams aren't going to come to me if I just sit and wait (Sorry, Guiness, good things don't come to those who wait; good things come to those who walk up to the bar and order a Guiness. If I just sat there waiting for a pint to pour itself and find its way magically across to my table, I'm going to end up very thirsty indeed). So, I ended a relationship that wasn't working and took my life by the horns, albeit awkwardly at first (near drunkenly slurring "So how do you rate honesty, on a scale of one to ten?" to the girl I wanted to ask out was never going to be smooth and cool, but it has given us a funny memory and a running joke), and am now thoroughly enjoying the ride.
To a certain extent, Morgan has therefore become the Gandalf to my Bilbo, coaxing me out of a shell, breaking down my barriers and ripping my comfort zone to shreds, leading me out of the Shire, so to speak. Last night I found myself in a local nightclub, a crowded sweaty basement, dancing to Eminem, and other similar artists that I have no ability to mention. I followed her to a gig she was playing in, backing violin to a rapper called Pepstar, where I was genuinely the only white guy in the room - and dressed in military attire and leather trench coat to boot. I was genuinely concerned, but I surprised myself into actually really enjoying the night, bopping and singing along during the audience participation parts, to the point that 'Pepstar' himself noticed and approached me when he came out of the stage door, after greeting his mates, and commented on how he'd "seen [me] boppin' along".
Now, here I am (currently at Swindon, for those keeping count of how fast I type) on a train to Swansea, of all places. See, Morgan has recently started playing with an awesome Irish Punk band called 'The Lagan' (seriously, check them out, it's like Flogging Molly or Dropkick Murphy's). I went to see her play with them in Reading a few weeks back and had a thoroughly grand night, again, the kind of night I'd not have done previously. They're playing in Swansea, and she's had to drive all the way out there to meet them. I've been working all day, else I'd have gone with her, would be in Wales now, kicking back and waiting for it all to start with and nice pint of ale. Instead, I finished work, ran to my local station and am now riding trains westward to meet her at the end of the night, just to accompany her home.
In fairness, I'm not entirely sure why I am doing it. Is it so that I can see her again? Perhaps, though I am meeting her and some friends for lunch tomorrow in Kingston (much closer to home at a short bus ride away). Is it that I'm looking for medals? No, though apparently her sister's impressed, and I'm quite astonished that I'm crossing the country to see her, hop into a car and drive all the way back again. Part of me wonders if I'm doing this just simply because I can. It's an adventure, I'm doing something I have never done before and it feels great. This kind of thing is completely new to me. It's liberating and empowering. I feel like I'm pushing my limits and boundaries back, and frankly that can only be good for my writing, for my life in general, in fact. Or am I doing it for love?
It's 21.00 now, and I'm not due into Swansea until about midnight (as a note, the longest train ride I'm used to is London to Nottingham for work training events, and is not fond of that duration). I should probably get some sleep, but I feel so damn energised right now, and for a change that's not Lucozade or nicotine. I've had neither since before setting out at 18.15. I guess it's what people call being 'high on life'. I've not been unhappy recently, but I've not felt this before and it is amazing. Perhaps this is how Bilbo felt the first time he saw mountains, or took that walk down the valleys to Rivendel to see the elves (a strangely fitting analogy considering my destination). Maybe it's the thought of seeing her again. Whatever the case, it's powerful, and it's given me something to write about at length.
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