I've heard a lot about Wordless Wednesday. I've never done it because I'm too full of...errr,um words, not to mention other things. But, given that the challenge has knocked the wind out of me like a sharp punch to the solar plexus, I thought "what the hell."
The problem is I just realized it's Thursday already. So where exactly has the week gone? Today I interviewed a pastor who started quoting Chaucer at me when he realized I was English. This was somewhat embarrassing because.
A - Chaucer was English
B - I taught Chaucer to high school students for a while.
I told him a lot of people mistake me for an Australian.
"But you sound like the Geico lizard," they will say.
"I think he's English," I will tell them.
"He's not Australian?"
There was a pleasant elderly receptionist in the office as I walked out.
"Are you Australian?" she asked.
Post challenge I wonder if it's tough to write once the discipline is taken away, I feel like Morgan Freeman in the Shawshank Redemption when they finally let him out of jail and he doesn't know what to do; sits alone in his apartment and contemplates suicide like the last person who they let out. Not that I'm contemplating suicide for any literallists out there; unless it's literary suicide.
That's why you need a plan in life. You need to be a Tim Robbins rather than a Morgan Freeman. But only in terms of the movie. In real life Freeman seems to be the man with the plan.
Anyhow - as it's partially, but not very wordless Thursday, I need to add a picture. The image above is the unspoiled beach I found last week at False Cape State Park. You can only get there on foot, bike or on a tram so there are no people with unpleasant tattoos, pitt bulls on dirty strings wearing knotted hankies on their heads.
Enjoy the silence.