Routine smells of trains and tastes like crusts.

My last posts have been oppressive/depressive.

But I have stumbled across something so intense that without it my life would be an apron without the smell of baking.

Inspiration.

Like breath to my flute.

Im going to stop there with the analogy's- you can imagine your own wind beneath your winginess.

At school I teach music.

2 things that have kept me out of the loony routine bin is:

www.therebelution.com Inspiring teens to Rebel against Rebellion.

and The Frankie Magizine.

Excerpts from this magazine have graced my office space, my coffee mug and my bible.

I'd been on a mission every afternoon I had nothing of particular importance to do, to find the newest raddest edition. Seriously- loo time reading is not the same without Frankie.

9 weeks into this challenge I find myself loitering on the habour of Tauranga spying on hot guys in resturants wearing tight jeans and wedding bands (I HATE this coincidence), and in general saving petrol by wasting time between engagements.

So anyway I slink into this dodgy indian diary (imagining it on the cover of the next NZ herald for the latest break and enter robbery) and then actually sqeal outloud because there behind a grimy car/nakey lady mag is the Frankie Magazine. my Frankie. I actually did a tiny jump as everything in my world finally fell into a sweet vintage alignment that smelt of musk and cinnimon.

Anyway anyway anway, the point is. From that moment on, I have been indulging in Frankie when the mood is down. Like when go on a road trip, get in your car and you know something isn't right- you adjust the volume and away you go.

When I get up, have a shower, trudge to work, teach as though no-one is actually sitting in front of me, complain about the bad coffee, get in the car-get home-get in bed, close eyes and forget about what I just did all day, Thats when I know something isn't right.

Routine is Dangerous.
Routine is Depressive.
Routine is Contagious.
Routine is...Sucks.

Get Inspired,

For me its getting Frankie. 

It inspired me to do stuff.

Like putting tuscun seasoning on avocado.
Like wearing a skirt the wrong way around,
Like speaking in an accent to someone you've never met before,
Like mouthing music and deliberatly looking at the cars next to you at traffic lights,
Like taking a picture using your sunnies.

Like anything- just do stuff that gives you something to remember.

This is the end of my soliliqy.