The One When I Laugh At Fear

This is so out of sequence, non-linear, and full of grammatical errors, so please excuse my latest rambling. I am kind of all over the place today. This blog entry is not exactly a proper one (but I guess it makes up for all the times that I’ve taken so long to write a new post) so you will have to bear with the fact that my mind flicks between twenty different things in the space of about a minute. It’s a real problem. But I kind of like it.

I am, at this very moment, sitting in the most glorious vintage art gallery cafe. I am writing with the traditional pen and paper, which will later be permanently embedded into my computer screen. (The paper in question is actually the back of one of six curriculum vitae’s that have temporarily made their homes inside my handbag – for which will now and forever be known as my tardis bag: it’s no telephone box, nor does it identify itself within the cool colour spectrum, but it is, however, smaller on the outside and massively huge on the inside. So large, in fact, that I often joke that I could hide a body in there).

Thirty minutes ago, I considered giving away one of the sheets from my makeshift stationary set to a local newspaper franchise. (Recently, I’ve been in desperate need for an office job so that I can begin my administration course, but have had no luck so far. What am I doing wrong? Maybe I should have gone for something creative. Stupid, stupid, stupid!) However, as I stumbled towards the towering grey entranceway to a possible career, something inside me said, “No.” No? You serious? No?! Some people could say that it was instinct or intuition or whatever. It probably was. But then again, it was probably God. Because there’s something better, I just have to be patient and wait for the right thing at the right time. I’m so over waiting. But I have to keep at it. All good things to those who wait, I guess. Including those who endure a very long, vigorous, and proactive job-hunting ordeal. It’s a long story. But as I sit near the window of this lovely vintage cafe sipping away at the most delicious fair-trade mochaccinos I’ve had in a very long time (seriously, Kiwi barristers are really great. You Americans can learn from us, we know how to do it the right way), all I can do is laugh. At what, you might ask? At fear.

It’s the sort of place that belongs on somebody’s Pinterest board. I just love stuff like this. Alabaster whites, pastel greens, natural wood, mahogany, cornflower-blue rhododendrons, little chalkboards, unique artwork – all set to the jazzy melody of a classic Louis Armstrong record.

There is, however, one thing that I do not particularly enjoy about visiting lovely places like this: I am alone, and I have nobody to share the aesthetic experience with. I watch people walk past the window, both beautiful and ugly, legendary and insignificant. Though I have to say that having alone time to myself is perfectly healthy. Because, today, I am at so much peace with myself that it makes me feel unbelievably happy.

I may be indoors, but it doesn’t stop the fact that there is a beautiful male sparrow darting about the place searching for crumbs. He doesn’t have a care in the world for those who judge him; he is so free, and he is what he is.

I hope that it does not rain while I am still in town. I may be armed with a halfway-decent umbrella, but it will not protect the enormous bulge of my tardis bag from succumbing to the elements.

I would like to point out, quite dramatically I might add, that on the other side of the world at this very moment, Hollywood is celebrating it’s 87th Academy Awards ceremony. I’ve made my predictions: Eddie Redmayne and Julianne Moore will win Best Actor and Actress, respectively (UPDATE: I was correct!).

But what do I want to do? Who do I want to be? I want to be a dreamer. A dreamer who is a listener, and a dreamer who is a doer. An artist, a writer, an entrepreneur. I want to work for legends, and I want legends to work for me.

For a little while, things looked as if though life was an uncertain shambles, but now things are starting to slowly piece back together. Focus, excitement, joy, beauty, and hope. I am having such a wonderful day! Why? I don’t know.

I’m thinking I may start painting again. Impressionism has become a thing for me as of late. Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet. Painting gives me a bit of a rush sometimes. Once I’ve sat down with a clear head and a definite subject in mind, I can easily lose track of precious time indulging in my own creative selfishness. It’s a lovely feeling – and the results are even more so.

I should think that I may have been in this cafe for over an hour. I might have to buy another coffee – is it rude of me to stay so long writing in a place like this? I am not sure. The guy behind me has been tapping away at his laptop since before I got here, so obviously it’s okay. Maybe he’s like, a proper writer or something. Or a novelist, or a columnist for the Nelson Mail across the road….or a playwright? Or a scriptwriter! He might get famous one day like Philippa Boyens. I could ask him for his autograph in advance. Yeah, Nah.

Earlier today I found myself sitting in the local courthouse as a potential juror – waiting for my call on the ballot. I and at least a dozen others were excused. So I sat there, in my best office clothes with my nose in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre – one of my favourite classic novels by the way, though North & South totally leaves that one behind. The courtroom was freaking awesome. For my sister, it would be like me going to the cinema (or the airport…personally, I love both equally). She, the highly academic law student, would be very jealous of me. When the prosecutor and lawyer entered the courtroom with their swishing, black silky robes, everyone dropped what they were doing and stared. These young and beautiful young women with their degrees under their belts, passing the bar, getting themselves out there…such elegance. Yet so much respect. Respect, respect, respect.

I do have a lot of respect for civil servants – they work harder than you ever do, and sacrifice more than you ever will.

To think that my sister may well hold that position one day. It’s like being related to a celebrity or something. I’m proud, very proud. She knows what she’s doing. Good on you, chickie!

Red Cafe Art Gallery, Nelson

Red Cafe Art Gallery, Nelson [Instagram]

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