Basically, I had a really beautiful day yesterday and I thought why not give you a taste of a day in the life Maya and write a blog post about it.
So, I arranged to catch up with my dear friend Ben for tea at 12:30pm in the centre of our town. We popped to the library to request some books which I needed for my History project (investigations, Cold War- if you do A level History, I share your pain) and we had a delightful chat with the librarian before heading for pepper mint tea in the coffee shop where Ben works. It is my new favourite place, there are walls covered in books and art spread across walls, it's truly beautiful in this place. So we shared poetry. And this isn't something I normally do. We took out our notebooks and swapped, and we read. And there were words shared and there is such a lot which can be read about a person from the way their notebook is arranged. I mean that, if anyone ever blesses you with looking at their hand written poetry, or even a look into their moleskin sketchbook if they draw, take it. And read between the lines of how their words are written on the page. I never show people my written word, I feel like the opening of the Picture of Dorian Gray sums up my feelings between sharing perfectly. The words say too much about me and I am terrified of the criticism, of being judged. But I faced a fear, and I shared and he liked it. And that is an achievement in itself.
Post tea time we went charity shopping across town and Ben picked up vinyl and a vinyl case and it was all very quaint. We talked politics and the comprehensive/private system and we wandered around town. We talked insecurities, we talked religion, we talked faith, we talked drugs and alcohol and insecurities and films and books and relationships. We talked plans, we talked hitch hiking in France this June. We sat down the embankment and wrote spoken word poetry, a line each at a time. And we Oooerr'd at each other's ideas and directions. I wrote words down, I took inspiration. We petted passing dogs, we exchanged words with passing film creaters. It was spontaneous. We giggled for ten minutes straight because joy is free and infectious and we can. And we watched the sunset and talked about Waterloo Sunset by the Kinks, which we both agree is a bloody good song.We drunk beer in the pub (I actually drunk coca cola because I am alcohol free) and we pondered some more. It was enlightening. To spend a day with somebody so full of adventure showed me that the life I have been pining for exists. Having beautiful days is possible if I decide to do it.
And the day was finished beautifully with us watching a play Ben has written being performed at our local theatre. It was inspiring, it was hopeful, it gave me hope. Seeing Ben stand on the stage and welcome questions from the audience gave me hope that my work may be read and appreciated too one day. He is so happy in himself, he's comfortable with who he is. And he closed the play on the question: 'is there more to life than this?'
I think there is. Because the girl who didn't leave the house because she had three panic attacks a day seized the day and went to bed happy at the end of it. The girl who is fearful of what people will think of her held her head high for five minutes. Which sounds like a minute achievement, but it's progress after looking at the ground for three years straight. And even if the more to life is simply finding friends who share your interests. And want to thrift shop for vinyl and encourage you to embrace who you really are. Rather than being lonesome in your room pondering about the gutter.
There are some beautiful people in this world.
I hope you all have at least one beautiful day this week. And embrace yourselves for who you are, drink peppermint tea and talk about your talents. There is more to life than the school yard society.
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