Like a shell that’s how I feel today. I look at pictures of beautiful islands and mountains and waterfalls and think that I could be doing something more useful with my life. Helping people. Seeing the world. Experiencing the beauty of nature every day. The thought of how I am going to make money to finance a life of endless travel does cross my mind and I must honestly say that I have no clue other than what I’ve been doing for 20 odd years – working! For someone else. The daily routine of the 9 to 5. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and the people I work for. But there is a niggling thought just at the periphery of my consciousness, a gut feeling that is telling me to think differently. A yearning when I look at beautiful pictures of beautiful places. I want to be the one to take those pictures of those beautiful places. So there is a potential income stream. Geez a few minutes into free writing and I’m already thinking of options. No wonder psychologists and counsellors tell their patients to write, journal their thoughts and feelings as a way of therapy. It works. So what else can I do? This blog can get 1000s of followers, brands will use it for advertising. Now that would be really cool. I don’t want to stay in 5 star places, and I’m not averse to work either – like teaching English in South America or Asia. Staying in a place for 3 months at a time, longer if I like it and am having fun and learning and experiencing new things. No make up. No high heels. No traffic peak hour. No company politics. No trying to prove I’m worthy of a promotion and more responsibilities, that I actually know something, that you know, being a woman doesn’t make me stupid or less capable of doing a job. I think it’s time I lost my temper because today I’m gatvol of being the “I can handle it, I’m very calm and I have a high EQ” person – it’s doing me no damn good!
Ten minutes over. Now if you see this, it’s because I have had the courage to post it. After a day like today I don’t care. I’m just gatvol*.
* gatvol – a South African word derived from Afrikaans, meaning to be irritated or sick and tired of something – to put it politely.
WordPress's daily prompt: Today, write about anything — but you must write for exactly ten minutes, no more, no less.
When I was a child I wanted to be a teacher. After school I enrolled for a teaching degree at university. On the first day, I walked into the Pedagogics class, turned on my heel and walked right out again. It didn’t take me long to realise that it was so dry that I’d need to drink copious amounts of alcohol to make it through three years. Because it was still the first week and subjects could be exchanged for others, I decided to switch to Latin instead! Ok, so you know what I did next don’t you? I walked into the Latin class, turned on my heel and walked right out again. It didn’t take me long to realise that it was so dry that I’d need to drink copious amounts of alcohol to make it through three years of it. So it being the first week I switched to Law…it took me six months to realise that it was as dry as the previous two subjects but by then it was too late to switch. I made it through one year of Law. And there was alcohol. It was the law of Persons and the Family and the textbook was Boberg. I was star struck when he delivered some of the lectures. I loved reading about the cases, it seemed like a soap opera to me, but when it came to memorising the statutes…well, that was another thing altogether! In my second year I switched tracks altogether. Ten minutes are up. Over and out. Done.
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Mozambican-born Portuguese South African; reflecting on travel, writing, editing, life, family and change that has social impact; chief wide eyed in wanderer, wonderer and bottlewasher
