Warning, the post contains instances of blogger referring to herself in the third person which some may find annoying and disturbing.
The stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves…
We repeat them like a mantra till they become set in stone.
AgzyM doesn’t write.
Nope, she loves reading, listening and talking
all together waaay too much, but she doesn’t write.
2,5 years later she’s still blogging and although both quality and quantity of her written word may be questionable, she’s still at it.
AgzyM doesn’t run.
Not for a bus, not for anyone…
Yet half way through her Zombies, Run 5K program, she doesn’t mind telling you that she is kicking those zombies butts and has her heart set on further goals- a 10K, perhaps a half marathon one day.
What other stories on repeat in that thick skull- stories of what cannot be done- repeated to the point when they become an absolute?
It at moments like these that I think of poor Mr Armitage who script after script is confronted with, what he claims, is one of his greatest fears.
Doused and drowning, sinking and swimming, sprayed, spritzed, hosed down (and that’s just Porter…).
There are more projects on his CV that involve a wet T-shirt competition than not.
Wet in water and mud, soon filthy canal muck, he puts aside the story he tells himself and just does it anyway f
or his admirers’ amusement and entertainment.
Do you ever tell yourself what you simply can’t do but know deep down inside it may just be that- a story?