May 24, 2013 § 7 Comments
I think I’m finally becoming a teenager. It’s taken nearly 44 years, but there you have it.
Obviously I can’t be objective about this, but I think I was a fairly reasonable teenager the first time around. I didn’t smoke or drink (well, except for that one champagne breakfast atop Lion’s Head when I was 15) and for the most part, I did as I was told. I was home when I said I’d be home, I did all my homework, I achieved well at school. Hell, they even made me Deputy Head Girl, so I couldn’t have been a rebel.
And I’ve always been like that. I do what’s expected of me, always. If I commit myself to something, I throw myself in there, heart and soul. I am reliable to the point of being predictable and boring.
And then this week happened. I’m not sure why, but it’s been a week of small rebellions, and I’ve had a blast. Nothing drastic – I’m not snorting coke or anything. I’ve just allowed myself to break some of my own ridiculous rules, and it’s been fun.
Now don’t get me wrong (lest any of my clients are reading this). I’ve worked hard when I’ve needed to, and met all of my deadlines (I think.) but I’ve also skived off a fair amount.
On Tuesday, for example, I took myself off to a movie in the middle of the working day on a whim. There I was, with a handful of others in the darkened movie theatre, shamelessly perving at Josh Duhamel when I should have been working, like the rest of you.
On Wednesday I broke two of my own rules. Wednesday is supposed to be blogging day. This Wednesday I just didn’t have the time or the inclination. Hence here I am, on Friday night, blogging.
Also on Wednesday, I broke my rule of not going out on a ‘school night’. I toddled off to hear Wendy Oldfield and Lionel Bastos perform, knowing full well that I had to be up at sparrow’s fart the next day to travel to a workshop I was giving in the Magaliesberg. It was an awesome, inspiring evening that left me grinning like a Cheshire cat for ages afterwards, and it took quite some time for me to come down to a place where I was ready to sleep. I don’t regret it for one minute, but I did feel vaguely nauseous when I finally crawled into bed at 12.45am and had to set my alarm to go off at 4.55am.
And when I have been in my office, at odd occasions I’ve stopped working at the laptop and gone to the piano to nail down a chord or a lyric on a song I’m busy working on. It may never see the light of day or help to pay the rent, but it’s fun, so I’ve indulged when the urge has taken me.
And then today, during office hours, I spent two hours having coffee and a really good chat with my new friend, Richard, who is one of those people who just gets me. And those people are few and far between – I can probably count them on one hand. So I spent those hours chatting up a storm with him, and enjoyed every minute of it.
It doesn’t sound like much, I know. As I said – they were small rebellions. But for me it’s not about the act itself, it’s about the attitude behind it. And it’s been one of the happiest weeks I’ve had in a long time. Because for once, I didn’t listen to my brain. I listened to my heart.
And it felt good. Really good.