Work was a busy onslaught today, not in a bad way, perhaps onslaught is the incorrect word, but with streams of customers the service was constant. During the hours at the cash-register my energy levels were sustained, and with so much business I wasn’t too worried about meeting my weekly standards; twice I peered at the time, the first was at about two hours into my shift, and on the second glance I discovered I only had five minutes remaining. As soon as I passed through into the staff room, every muscle in my body heaved a sigh of relief, and I was drained of strength like someone had switched off my current via the mains. Worse, I hadn’t eaten, because I don’t get a lunch-hour with the limited hours I worked today, so I plodded home to eat and relax. Then, when I was stepping through the door, I noticed Anna had sent me a text; she was in town writing up some lesson plans at a coffee-shop, and fizzled-out as I was I couldn’t stay in; I haven’t seen Anna in a little while, and I hadn’t seen Aliza for nearing two months. So, it was quick change, and out again to meet.
Sadly, the blog we three girls once updated daily became a victim of a lack-of-time, and probably a slight curb in enthusiasm on all sides. Often things happen this way, one missed post becomes two, becomes three and so on and so forth, until the habit leaks from daily practice. Accepting these tiny disappointments is part of the human experience, and there really is no reason to dwell upon them. Yesterday though, I looked back on that blog, on the words we wrote and I missed them greatly. Not often in my life have I had places I could go to display my thinking in such a way; I do it here, and I have a few similar minded chums now with whom I can express such things, but something about that blog, about the regularity of it and the people I knew were reading gave me a feeling of incredible freedom. I’ve placed feelings there I never really shared with anyone, I’ve discovered things I didn’t know about myself, and about others, and I became close to two people I believe are wonderful. I’ve always been one to fight too hard to keep enjoyable experiences going, call it a stubborn streak, and so didn’t want lose what I’d gained, call that a selfish streak, I asked too much. I’m worried my actions became the spade that started the trench I’m scared is growing between us. Again, though, I’m whole-heartedly aware, that’s probably just me.
I’m not sure if we have control over our destinies, if you’ll take the term loosely, but it seems hopeless to me if in fact everything about what we do has already been decided. Having an attitude whereby you believe you can effect the outcomes of your life appears a much more confident and healthy mindset to have than one whereby you think nothing is truly in your power. Certainly it establishes a lot more motivation. There are many aspects of our lives we can control, and plenty we can’t, but I think my problem might be I’ve never managed to distinguish between the two. I think I’m starting to realise often the circumstances I happen upon were set into motion by things I did months ago like the classic cause-and-effect theory. By the time I reach the thing I didn’t notice I changed all that time ago, I’ve already done several other actions to further advance it, and I’m staring at the open gate the horse has long since bolted past. Part of life then, I suppose, is learning to be aware of the possible consequences of everything you decide to do, which is practically impossible.
Anyway, I traveled back into town to meet my friends later than I would have liked, because they had met a few hours before I finished my shift, and my arrival was somewhat delayed. Anna, and one of her house-mates, were in the cafe laptops open, books scattered on a table, working on their PGCE essays with fading gusto. Anna had a half-drained latte, and her usual coffee-addicted chum had, surprisingly, nothing. Before I turned up, Aliza popped away to buy something for herself. So I sat and chatted with them for a while. They’re reaching the end of the course, and applying frantically for teaching spaces, ready to pull a job before September when the market dries out. I know Anna will do it; you know when friends have exactly what it takes to achieve their wishes, and Anna has a certain spark for teaching that won’t be missed by possible employers. She’ll be fantastic and I’m so happy for her, but still I know that means she’ll be going onto the next stage of her life, as Aliza will soon with the running of the business she’ll own, and hopefully, my writing will drag me into the world of a published artist (although, come to think of it, that might not be as awe-inspiring), and the spaces will grow greater, just because of natural undertakings. When I decided to write for a living, long before I even knew them, I laid the seeds that would leave me behind for a while, that would give me the time and space to meet and write on a communicative blog, as oppose to them. That’s just the natural flow – cause-and-effect, unforeseeable consequences (not even necessarily bad ones) I couldn’t possibly have hypothesized when I made the choices, but I couldn’t not make the decision.
Trouble is, I don’t know that they feel close to me anymore, the time apart has driven a small rift, and I find myself missing the days when we spoke everyday via blogging. Writing after all is lonely business; I sit at a computer, or at a library table constructing words in pleasant syntax, and I can go days without actually conversing with someone. That’s why I feel it more than they do I suppose, because I notice the periods between. I’m glad they don’t, though, I would never want either of them to feel alone, and to know they have many people surrounding them brings me happiness for them. They chose careers whereby they could be close to others, and I did not. Cause-and-effect. I’m aware though, if I try and squeeze into their worlds too much, I’ll end up pushing the gap. Some things you can’t fight; somethings you created long before you knew they would matter so much. I’m not sure if the blog will ever pick up again, I’ll probably start writing there again soon, I’ve wanted to for a while. However, I’m grateful that I had it once, that it’s locked in my memories (cheesy, I know), that it’s still there for me to admire just that short time when, as a struggling unsure writer, I knew someone was listening to the words I was crafting. No matter how far they drift (if they drift), I think that will always keep me close to them even if they don’t feel the same. That blog has sown seeds also, of future events we cannot foresee yet, but when they cause the effect they will inevitably create, I think I’ll probably smile.