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Thursday, June 6, 2013

You have too much time on your hands!


I was out (somewhere) recently when a creative friend I shall name Nigella, brought out a lavishly decorated cake she had obviously spent hours painstakingly working on for another friend who was celebrating her birthday. 

Another lady, who I shall name Cynthia, stood behind Nigella as she carefully took off the cover, revealing the sumptuous, meticulously adorned gateau in all its glory.

“Gosh! You clearly have too much time on your hands!” commented Cynthia.

Unlike the wilful and ill-humoured Pinky; who may have been incited to stab Cynthia in the eye with the cake knife, Nigella merely tensed imperceptibly and replied, “No I don’t!”

I’m positive Cynthia didn't intend any malice with her throw-a-way comment as she is a lovely girl, but I believe, 
“You have too much time on your hands” is a passive aggressive statement right up there in the same league as, “You look tired” (You look old) and “You’ve really improved” (You sucked before).

When I first began writing my blog five months ago and posting it on Facebook, a friend, who I shall name Drucilla, made the comment on my wall, 
“You have too much time on your hands”.

Drucilla had never and has never read my blog, however, I still felt p#ssed off. The wound festered for a while, then dried up, scabbed over and fell off but the cake incident started me thinking.

When I meet up with friends and they tell me they spent two hours the previous evening running up and down the mountain at boot camp I don’t say, 
“You have too much time on your hands”.
When colleagues are standing in line at the urn discussing the previous night’s State of Origin match, I don’t say, 
“What? You spent eighty minutes of your valuable evening watching a bunch of blokes you don’t know running up and down a muddy field chasing a ball? You have too much time on your hands.”

Whatever your passion is you will somehow find the time to pursue it.

My sixteen and eighteen year old will regularly lurch into the loungeroom when I’m writing at night harassing me to start dinner. The washing mounts, the barge-a#se gets bigger through lack of exercise, but I’m enjoying myself by utilising whatever measly creativity that hasn’t been sucked out of me after a frenzied day. 

Don’t listen to anyone when they criticise you for following your obsession.

Let them eat cake!

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