I confess to being a little in love with Pintrest. However, only a little.
You see, I don’t really need it. My head has always been some kind of scrapbook; a collection of quotes, a montage of things to make-and-do, outfit inspirations, projects to pursue, tips and other things I might try and, somewhere, I’m sure, if you searched hard enough, even the odd recipe or two. Ideas don’t seem to be the issue.
But implementation all too often impedes me. I’m a dreamer not a doer. And, alas, here I am with a thousand or so things unfinished…
A painting of a boy
Have you ever been so head-over
-heels in love that the colours of the world come alive? Of course you have, haven’t we all? Well, I tried to capture them. And his features. Tried and failed of course. A blue canvas boxed away in a room at my parents house for ten years.
A haunted house
A project my childhood self embarked upon one summer holiday. I now have no idea why I was making it and, seeing as I failed to complete it, I am drawn to conclude that its only real purpose in the world was to kill my time
Every year I start at least one. My record is somewhere in the middle of March. That adds up to a lot of months missed.
A letter to my boyfriend the time he broke my heart
I am a letter lover. I get it from my mum. And when things go wrong (or sometimes right) I find my feelings best expressed when poured out on a page. He will claim my heart was never broken. He is probably right. He will stress it wasn’t his doing. Right again. But at the time I though that if I was able to write a letter that phrased my feelings in the perfect way he would change his mind. However, writing it took so long that I changed instead.
A map of my world
I have always wanted to plot the places that mean something to me. To mark milestones and make a record of the memories that that I know inside out. To me, there is something missing about the information a map should share. However, making one is a lot harder than it looks.
A decorated home
I never dreamt I would live in a house with white walls. And I don’t, they are beige. But empty, vacant, all the same. You see it simply seems too much to commit to any one of the oh-so-many schemes or themes our homes might be. Instead I carry unframed art work in the boot of my car. And now the prospect of a new home, another blank canvas…
A baby book
When I was pregnant it all looked so promising. I was so obsessed with that mystery growing inside me that I dedicated all my time to it. Then I gave birth and realised what a lot of time I once had!
The 30 day abs challenge
So simple in principle. So easy at first. So very, very dull.
An application to London School of Arts
A bid to break away from where I found myself and follow my dream. A dream I wasn’t brave enough to chase the first time. Maybe not even my dream at all.
I had enough sticking power for one. It cost me a lot of tears (and very nearly my relationship!) but my daughter is the proud owner of a knitted bear. However, my promise to recreate this as a first gift for all of my pregnant friends has undoubtedly been broken. Sorry girls!
…The list could go on. And here I am with all of these fragments of unfinished things floating around. Some filling up cupboards, occasionally reminding me of their existence as I search out something more pressing whilst others simply drift through my mind and seek me out in the most unlikely of places. However, as diverse as they may be, the effect upon finding them is always the unwelcome common factor.
I feel a failure. I lack a sense of achievement. Why is my focus? My drive?
And, in turn, I dwell on this. I walk the aisles of the supermarket and search for a reason I failed rather than the soup I have been sent to get. I distract myself with what I might have done differently as I drive to work. I lose myself in planning for the next project as I pack my bag for the day ahead.
A dreamer who should be doing the day to day.