It has taken me 31 years and a hell of a lot of bruises, quite literally, for me to learn what I want out of life. You ready for it?
To cook, to write and to love.
Three very simple things. Three good things. Three things that I do NOT do enough of right now.
Ok so I cook every day. Every bloody day if I am honest. But it isn’t REAL cooking. It’s the kind of cooking where I have to squeeze it in because I am busy running round like a maniac trying to earn money to sustain a life I don’t really enjoy. I get up to a chorus of “WHAT’S FOR BREAKFAST?” and it seems the majority of my day is spent worrying about what I have lying around for children, dogs and cats to eat. So I cook. But it is a demanded cooking. A required cooking. A constant, consistent nag kind of cooking.
I write, but not often enough. I have about 3 books in my head. I have words and wisdoms dancing on my fingertips waiting for me to share them with the world but instead I am a slave to my house, my credit card bills my over indulgent lifestyle full of cars and toys and business that I have created and collected over the years that I have come to despise and I have started to resent even though they are of my own doing.
And love? Love so far has been the cruelest of all the things in my life. I can’t really blame anyone else for that. I think I have been the meanest of all those that have hurt my heart. Because I am the one that lets it go again. Each time it comes home and I heal it. I patch up its cuts and soothe its bruises and make it strong and beautiful and great. Then I dump it back out in the middle of a bull ring and say “See ya! Have fun”
I was questioning today if I had the strength to do that to my heart anymore. Or the desire even? It’s tired. I’m tired. You know when you finally think you have found something good and then you remember how you have had that feeling before and ended up getting shot in the face, kicked in the guts, chewed up, spat out and swept out into the gutter. Today I am asking myself. Can I? Could I? Should I?
At the moment my heart is screaming to me “I’m Scared” I have NEVER felt scared of love in my life before. Not once. Why now? And now I am left with the decision of whether I carry on and risk my heart getting destroyed. Again. Or if I give it a cuddle and carry it away from its fears. But if I do that? What if I lose what we have been fighting for all these years?
Even Norman doesn’t know what to do. And he is usually quite vocal about these things. Its like I am looking at Norman for guidance and he has his nose over his newspaper and he is shrugging at me saying “I dunno, you decide”
I keep thinking of that Meatloaf song. Two Outta Three Aint Bad. And I keep asking myself, should I give up on love and just focus on Two Good Things? Cooking and Writing? But then I see Hugh Curley-Wurly-Whatsisface and there he is telling me about “Ham, Egg, Chips” and “Tomato, Mozzarella, Basil” and I think NO Meatloaf. Two outta Three isn’t bad, but it isn’t perfect.
For now I am just going to concentrate on the cooking and the writing and let the love thing work itself out.
And go and meet Sue and Dawn and get drunk.