The You Bits

‘Hey! Thanks for coming! Just follow me. Nice to see you. Trouble getting here? No? Excellent. Well: welcome to my life! Come in! Through here, that’s right. Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Ignore all this. Probably best to… yeah, step over it, that’s the way. Bit of a shambles, this bit. And that bit over there. And, oh, yeah, that other bit. Apologies for the noise, by the way. Getting some repairs done. Who’s what sorry? Oh that? That’s Dave. Yeah. Don’t worry about Dave. We’ve all got a Dave haven’t we. Dave mate? Give it a rest will you please. Now… when I open this next door, you’re going to notice a large fire. Do not be alarmed. We get past this bit, there’s a nice little room where we can have a cup of tea before we have to deal with the snakes. Here. Put this on. And try not to breathe in.’  

Erhem. So I was thinking about my life the other day. Specifically, I was thinking about how exposed I would feel if I had to show someone the bits of it at which I am thunderously unsuccessful. Like the scene where I had to retrace my steps all the way back home from the post office because I literally dropped the letter I was going to post there somewhere on the walk and then I got to the post office with the now-rescued letter and had to go home and get my wallet. Or the scene that same week where I had to recite a section of the alphabet song in my head like a child in order to figure out which area of the library shelf I needed to be looking in for a book. But of course, everybody’s life has deleted scenes and they’re usually much more incriminating than a dropped letter aren’t they. And yes, it’s true, we shouldn’t compare or lives to someone else’s highlight reel. But another true thing is this: the bits of your life that you keep to yourself can sometimes be quite nice.

Public Service Announcement: enjoy the bits you keep to yourself. 

Like those moments - and surely there are hundreds by now - where it’s just been you and an animal, looking at each other. Sometimes, but not always, you will find yourself saying hello possum to a possum, for instance. Nobody else for miles.

Or the moments where it’s just been you - you in your shambles of a life sprinting to your  expired carpark, cursing your own idiocy - only to find the parking ticket inspector issuing a ticket to the car two cars in front of yours. 

Or the tiny things you know you’re impressively competent at. But they have to be tiny things. Far too little to even mention to someone. But when you do them, you feel kind of cool and  confident at. I reckon when you hit that vacuum cleaner button that retracts the cord, it feels like an important thing to have done in a suave way. You mess that up, it feels all wrong. I have a friend who makes reverse parking look like an art. A woman I worked with once realised she was in love with someone the first time she saw them deal cards. 

Noticing things that are happening outside, far away, when you’re alone is like a whodunnit. Squinting at someone in a building over the road through the window and saying quietly to yourself ”what is he doing?” and then figuring out this little mystery that turns out to be a guy shampooing carpets in an office block, but you’re kind of pleased anyway because you figured it out yourself and the guy doesn’t know, and nobody knows, but you know. 

Or the moment when everything is quiet and it’s just you, and you take your shoes off.

When you’re listening to music in your headphones or your car or whatever, watch what the music does to the other people you’re watching. I swear they walk more rhythmically. Some of them even move in time to the music. Music is magic. 

Other people’s lives are full of things you can’t see, we all know that. We all know we shouldn’t compare. Also though, sometimes it’s nice to take the pressure off your own little life. It’s full of light and shade. Find the light, sometimes, in those bits nobody else sees. Celebrate not getting a parking ticket. Watch someone walking in time to your song. Enjoy your very own self, all by yourself. And if that doesn’t work, kick that cord-retraction button. I swear it makes you feel like a cowboy.

This originally appeared in The Big Issue, which just launched its 600th edition. Happy 600th, Big Issue.