Do you ever have an urge to write, without quite knowing what to say? Romantic rain is falling, clouds are one shade of grey and cookies are baking in the oven. My blog post declaring an abandonment to refined sugar is angry at my demerara sprinkle. These photographs were taken yesterday at an artisan bar. I love visiting non chain places. My dearest diary, it’s all about coffee and love.
Happiness, a rare sign
These photos are some of my favourite, because I look happy. I am, but in truth my relaxed posing is due to finding an establishment where customers don’t provide disgusted stares at the sight of anyone snapping. When no one watches you take pictures, you truly “make love to the camera”. A couple of years ago in Ibiza, my sister and I spoke about happiness. “What year is your happiest?”
Marilyn Monroe’s last interview connected with me. She confessed to happiness being a rare thing. Something she’d never take for granted. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt continually happy. Moments arise, shortly followed by anxiety, stress or significant self-blame. I cannot connect to one joyful period. At the same time, I’m not necessarily sad or depressed. I’m a wanderer exploring puzzles to an unknown jig-saw.
When strong bouts of happiness do present itself, I pick up my laptop and scribble down every tangible creative suggestion. I write lots of poems, take countless pictures – you’ll never look more beautiful than when you’re beaming inside, and I eat food I love (good and bad), and exercise and grant myself a huge dose of self-love. The things recommended when you feel sad, I do when I’m happy.
Coffee and Love
Coffee and love together are not so different. Addictive high energy needed on a continual basis. If you have too much, both require withdrawal which leads to painful symptoms. My mind curated love as the source to life contentment. A love interest has always been focal – fantasy and real. Dear diary entries splattered in young analysis – desperate to understand whether a stare and smile equal a potential romance.
Poems posted on Pinterest are gaining thousands of impressions within a few days – a couple reaching beyond 10,000. I’m in the midst of writing a poetry book along with short musings, and this has given me my joyful peace. This new idea where nobody is going to come and rescue me, nobody is needed to muster paint and adoration. If a person does arise, they are a new addition. They’re not a lifeline to a great future. Thinking I’m 100% in control is really lovely. If I choose, I can hold on to happy freedom; no fear anyone will snatch it away.
If I had my dear diary now, gold and shiny Beauty and the Beast cover, I’d pen words on dreams and list the little sentiments adding to my day. Coffee and love – berets, Paris set films, long phone calls and walks in flowery locations. Sure, they’d be sadness. Only a drizzle though, a romantic rain and not a hail-storming splash.
I have to write for me
Putting this post together, I understood the personal element is not the best for SEO. A few bloggers and readers won’t enjoy as the piece doesn’t have a clear aim. I’m not sharing tips and discussing a relevant topic. Trying to remain interesting is a struggle of mine. Insecurity has flooded my blog and I hate that.
I hate that a site launched on confidence and passion, has twisted to uncertainty. I hate how much space is wasted debating on title choices and subject matter. Inspecting images and shortly after a good set, mentally asking when it’s possible to take the next. As much as I care about views and want people to like what I produce, part of my coffee and love happiness is realising I also need to write for me.
What little things in life make you feel good?