To Challenge Or Not To Challenge

To Challenge Or Not To Challenge

“I’m sorry to say it but you’re a rogue, Safire,” I couldn’t resist blurting out to my friend. A friend I haven’t known for very long. She’s a writer. I met her at a writing group about six months ago.

 

“Oh, my dear Cressida! How can you bestow such a false character trait upon me? I’m not a man!”

 

“You’ve an answer for everything!”

 

“I know how you crave to be more like me.”

 

“I wasn’t complimenting you,” I tutted.

 

“When have I ever needed to be complimented?”

 

She’s half my size and weight, a ‘half-pint’ as she refers to herself, and ten years my senior. Her success as a writer is awe-inspiring. “You lack discipline,” she affectionately accused me recently. “Write every day, no matter what! I have a brilliant idea. I’ll be your mentor!” At first, I felt mild affliction at her comment; however, I mustered deep within myself to face the facts. Despite loving it, I find it a mammoth challenge to face the facts sometimes.

 

“It isn’t always becoming to say exactly what you feel. Didn’t your mother teach you if you haven’t anything nice to say keep your trap shut.”

 

“I think she tried,” Safire said, pretending to be affected. “But you know mother, she couldn’t give a flying fuck about anyone other than herself. The old fiend!”

 

“And didn’t you say once you take after her?”

 

“Not once, Cres, a million times. I am my mother. Actually, I am worse. I’d never want to be as weak as her so I am all strength as well as a fiendish fucker!”

 

“You really are proud of who you are, aren’t you?”

 

“Who else is going to be? If you don’t like yourself then change it. Only you have the power. If you don’t like who I am then please do us all a favour…”

 

“Aren’t you scared of being alone?”

 

“Let’s get real for a second here, writing bosom-buddy! We are all alone. We are born alone, deal with our shit alone and then finally when we die, we are truly alone. When you accept this, never will you feel lonely again. I remember a quote, ‘You’ll know who your true friends are after a prison sentence.’ Words to that effect.”

 

“Cynicism cloaked in bravery,” I said.

 

“If that’s what you think. I just think it’s better to look reality in its monster-like face and accept life as it is, don’t live life with rose-tinted glasses.”

 

“But what if the rose-tinted spectacle wearer is happier, blissfully unaware and happier?” I asked.

 

“Really? You think those that hide from reality are happier? Never! It’s a recipe for disaster. Soon their little bubble will burst and then what? Their whole world will shatter before their eyes on stalks and…” Safire paused, taking in a deep breath and while releasing it carried on, “… unless they choose to live alone.”

 

“I don’t think many people are truly honest with themselves or so afraid of living they’d rather plod along the path veiled in vanilla.”

 

“Ummm… ‘veiled in vanilla’… I like that. Write that down and use it. Oh yes! I came up with a brilliant challenge for you to do, to get you on the path, the less vanilla track of discipline.”

 

“I don’t think a path of discipline can be anything more than vanilla.”

 

“Ha! Quick on the mark, you are! Okay, so… You are to publish a blog post every day for 1 month, every day in March, a whole 31 days. Accepted?”

 

“Sounds interesting… On any topic?”

 

“Absolutely! From 1 sentence to a thousand, as long as you post something, anything, an image… Whatever pops your peach. Settled then.”

 

I accepted the challenge and start tomorrow…

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