I’ve been so caught up in the avalanche of workloads that I find my shoulder hurting and my entire self salivating for a bite, just one tiny, minuscule, microscopic bite of a cheesecake forever craved.
I’ve never had such a week where everything seems to have gone wrong. And yet, dear ghosts, I find myself impeccably calm in such situations, uncaring for the personal judgments of my superiors that I felt incredibly liberated from the fatal thoughts of the “what if they don’t like me?”. I suggest you all try it. Freeing.
In the other light, there are so many things to look forward to in the next concluding months of 2 0 1 7. I want to begin with fulfilling numero uno on my list of fernweh’s having started Harper F.M. and that is to visit the vivacious, mountainous, racketeering New Zealand of Down Down Under. Yes, in countable days, I shall be trekking with a Maz-tiff by my side, ploughing down the road with our Brego’s and our Legolas wigs styled the Targaryen way.
And upon the conclusion of that trek (edit: cannot wait), we return to the shores of a few more weeks of the day job before finding ourselves in a time wrap ready for the release of the sequel of the 7th of an instalment that equals to nine episodes. Stoked?
Importantly, on the eve of the eve Christmas, there will be a road trip in there somewhere where I will re-live the days of lying down on an astroturf underneath the Massachusetts stars unearthing my great purpose with my favourite companion of companions, amidst shaking breaths but now, in summery flower dresses and plentiful-a-bug spray.
Melbourne. No apologies.
Before that, let’s rally the real for some fun office ping pong competition, much forgiveness, vigilance, diligence, and no fear. As, there is still much. But deep breaths, H, deep breaths.
You are called for a great purpose. Live it.