In an attempt to be more disciplined in my writing, I've bookmarked a year's worth of prompts. When inspiration fails me, there'll be a word, or a phrase, or a topic to fall back on. And I'll write, whether I feel inspired by the word or phrase or topic or not. Today's was comfort zone: more comfortable with routine and planning, or laissez-faire spontaneity?
Dull and boring and frankly tedious as it sounds - particularly to me - I function much better in a state of at least partial planning.
I would love to be the opposite: a laid-back, go-with-the-flow, laissez-faire, spontaneous kinda gal, carefree enough to drop everything at a moment's notice to jet off to a European capital on a whim, or come home one afternoon with a suddenly-acquired puppy.
It sounds so much more glamorous, so much more fun to be the sort of person not to care what might get thrown into a day, and where you might end up when it's over; the sort who gives no thought that whatever plans they might have had are in disarray around their feet, superseded by something entirely unexpected.
But self-awareness is, I suppose, something to be grateful for, and I'm quite aware that I'm happier when there's a vague shape to a day, to a week, to an idea.
I like to know if I'll have a chance to get to the gym, to see friends, to ride a pony. If I know that I'll spend a Sunday battling the four worst words in the English language (rail replacement bus service), I'll pack an extra novel and a series of snacks. I appreciate knowing that a long day will be buoyed by the friends I'm closest to in the evening, rather than hoping a colleague will maybe have the freedom to hit the pub. It gives me a low-level sense of comfort to know what I'm aiming for in a day, and a small sense of satisfaction if I achieve what I set out to.
But despite knowing all that, despite being a fan of a plan (Stan), I also know that sometimes there's very little better than waking up on a Saturday morning, stretching out in bed and knowing that you've no obligations until you hit the office on Monday. A week's holiday with no more idea of a couple of good books and a sense of 'see what comes' sounds, right now, like unimaginable bliss. There's enormous freedom in not being prescriptive about what's ahead, in being open to possibilities, to saying yes...
Dull and boring and frankly tedious as it sounds - particularly to me - I function much better in a state of at least partial planning.
I would love to be the opposite: a laid-back, go-with-the-flow, laissez-faire, spontaneous kinda gal, carefree enough to drop everything at a moment's notice to jet off to a European capital on a whim, or come home one afternoon with a suddenly-acquired puppy.
It sounds so much more glamorous, so much more fun to be the sort of person not to care what might get thrown into a day, and where you might end up when it's over; the sort who gives no thought that whatever plans they might have had are in disarray around their feet, superseded by something entirely unexpected.
But self-awareness is, I suppose, something to be grateful for, and I'm quite aware that I'm happier when there's a vague shape to a day, to a week, to an idea.
I like to know if I'll have a chance to get to the gym, to see friends, to ride a pony. If I know that I'll spend a Sunday battling the four worst words in the English language (rail replacement bus service), I'll pack an extra novel and a series of snacks. I appreciate knowing that a long day will be buoyed by the friends I'm closest to in the evening, rather than hoping a colleague will maybe have the freedom to hit the pub. It gives me a low-level sense of comfort to know what I'm aiming for in a day, and a small sense of satisfaction if I achieve what I set out to.
But despite knowing all that, despite being a fan of a plan (Stan), I also know that sometimes there's very little better than waking up on a Saturday morning, stretching out in bed and knowing that you've no obligations until you hit the office on Monday. A week's holiday with no more idea of a couple of good books and a sense of 'see what comes' sounds, right now, like unimaginable bliss. There's enormous freedom in not being prescriptive about what's ahead, in being open to possibilities, to saying yes...
