20 years ago (plan A: become a famous artist)

So in three weeks it’s my 20 year reunion at school.

Needless to say, I was kinda a wild one back in the day.

And here is me twenty years later, much poorer than I was in school (they don’t allow credit and debt for youngsters), I’m with minus thousands in the bank and I live in an old little flat in the very same town I went to school, 20 years ago. The others have houses and life insurance and big paychecks and all the rest, I suspect. So yeah, I have no material gains to show off with.

But in retrospect, fuck, I have more amazing shit inside this mind of mind than ever. I have love and a supportive family who are my rock. I have seen countries and dreams and magick and I’ve acquired some serious ass wisdom through loss, pain and wonderful experiences.

I wrote to a special high school friend of mine yesterday, he’s based overseas so he won’t make it to the reunion.  I remember how he came to my house and took my out for ice cream and in his little car we shared our dreams with each other.

He made it there, to dream land. He did exactly what he set out to do, he got there. I didn’t. I went for plan B and although plan B brought the most incredible, unexpected treasures to my life, it wasn’t and still isn’t plan A.

I can blame bad decisions, or blame motherhood, or blame fear…but I won’t blame anything for this.  My life aint over yet.

And plan A doesn’t just disappear into the mist. It is still right where it was. Perhaps even waiting for me to come and activate it.


the unromanticised 20 years after pic