Reading from the Wrong Script

OK I am still getting to grips with this new blog and finding it slightly unwieldy – so much for it being user friendly, livejournal was so easy and simple – thought that may explain the huge number of morons that stalked that place. I am edging my bets slightly as I have created an identical blog on wordpress too and I will do the same updates until I work out which is the best one, though to be honest I think I am going to stick with blogspot.

I decided when I set up this blog to call it ‘Reading from the Wrong Script’ as I thought it summarised my life quite well, I feel that at various points I have gone down different paths than life intended and that I wasn’t really living the life I should be. Naturally as I get older I suspect this maybe down more to delusions of grandeur that I had in my youth but certainly I do feel a sense that I am basically reading from the wrong script.

I think my perceptions on life were muddied by my early life – even as a very young child I was a people watcher, I always found everything very fascinating and saw depth in everything – but also the way I was raised, my mother was an artist so there was always creativity and the arts around me – I suppose when you’re a child you just assume that everyone thinks books are precious and that everyone goes to art galleries and libraries every day. On top of this however (and despite my dad being a staunch Roman Catholic) my mother was also a palm reader and was often either given reading or going to visit fellow psychics, so our house was often full of strange and fascinating people, even as a toddler I was a people watcher so you can imagine the effect all this eclectic stimulus had on a small mind.

So I grew up, thinking that life was infinitely fascinating and that all sorts of alternative, interesting and downright eccentric people would constantly be entering your life, I did fine art at Uni and then I got out into the real world and realised this wasn’t the case at all. People seemed broken by the drudge of everyday life to be interested in anything left field or different and all those random and chance encounters that fate always seemed to throw up leading to some memorable relationships or adventures seemed to dry up. It took me a long time to realise that this was the new reality so to speak. I want from taking it as a given that I would have a life full of interesting people and incidents and to not worry just let fate play its hand to realising with a terrible crushing of the ego and self doubt that I wasn’t this pivotal person things just happened for and that I had better pull my finger out and start working things out for myself. Yes I suppose it made me very lazy or carefree in a way and almost certainly entitled and I must confess there is still a part of me that feels I am living the wrong life. I

 wonder if anyone else thinks like that or is it just me?