A Declaration
It´s time to stop waiting at home for my ship to come in. It´s time for me to commandeer the ship for myself. It´s time to commit.
You might think that I´ve already done all that, but really I´ve only half done it. I´ve made changes, but I have way further to go.
I am an artist, a writer. It´s time to finally become one, seriously.
This will mean a lot more changes in 2007, professionally and personally.
I know what some of those changes need to be, but many others are still to be discovered.
But a first step is all that is needed. And that step is a declaration for all to hear.
I am a writer and I will live as I must to fulfill that destiny.
Someday Lessons:
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Self-awareness is critical to a fulfilled life.
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As you discover new things in yourself, state them aloud to make them real.
Travel Update
So, Cate and I are now in Toulouse and are going to Barcelona tonight. We arrive at 10pm, which seems late until we remember that in Spain people often don’t even think about going out for dinner until 11pm.
We almost didn’t leave Paris yesterday. Our Railpass said to just get our pass validated then to hop on a train, but when we went to get out pass validated, we learned that there are limited seats available for passes, and that with an almost full train, we wouldn’t be allowed on.
So we kept thinking of different scenarios that would get us to Toulouse in time to sleep. Finally by asking several ticket agents different questions, one agreed to sneak us on to the 2pm train to Toulouse. Yay for persistence!!!
We had a great dinner (southwest France is so much cheaper than Paris) and then went for a beer at a Toulouse version of a frat bar. Did we ever feel old!
On a side note, I have to say just how wonderful non-smoking bars and restaurants are. Here in France, everywhere is still smoking and the bar especially was literally blue with smoke. Not so good for the cough.
Almost over the cold - have most of my energy back and I feel the mucus beginning to dry up. Plus we have sun for the first day! Paris was cloudy and damp which made for a very RAW cold - right into the bones.
We are both very excited about Barcelona. Our apartment is right in the middle of everything. It will be great for exploring this supposedly gorgeous city.
And speaking of exploring cities, it’s time to go explore Toulouse a bit more…
Someday Lessons:
No lessons today - just an update on where I am and what I’m doing.
The Grand Game
Cate and I share a favourite pastime: walking, so we’ve spent most of our time here in Paris touring the city by foot. Yesterday was an epic day with a total of seven hours of perambulation.
And of course we talk the entire time we walk. During one of the gazillion conversations, Cate said:
I view life as an improv game. You never block.
There are three rules to improv: you never answer a question with a single word or a "no"; you never shut down someone else’s idea; and you should be as creative as possible with your responses.
What a great way to live!
I’ve decided to adopt this attitude for myself.
Plus it’s very practical. For example, last night we turned a simple trip to a restaurant into an epic quest for food. You see, non-tourist restaurants aren’t open on Christmas night in Paris. We wandered along dark, deserted streets, getting progressively colder and hungrier. But we were more amused than anything else. Each closed restaurant upped the challenge. It didn’t stop us, didn’t make us give up and just eat at McDonald’s.
It made us say: "We will find good food!"
When we did (and wow was it good!); our sense of accomplishment and therefore our appreciation of the meal were as large as our combined appetites!
Someday Lessons:
- Another word for chaos is exploration.
- Don’t let life block you - find a way to keep the story going.
(Happy Holidays everyone and thanks for all the wishes and messages of support!)
The Nine Longest Hours Ever
On Friday night, my life existed in very long ten to twenty minute blocks.
That was the amount of time my stomach took to build up to the next visit to the porcelain goddess.
No, I hadn’t been drinking too much. I had food poisoning.
Those nine hours, from 6pm to 3am, were some of the longest hours I have ever spent.
The worst part was being alone. Not that anyone could have done anything for me. But I was in a hotel in a large city. I had no local contacts. My medical insurance papers were down in Sauveterre. In other words, I got a bit panicky at times.
Mainly because I had nothing else to do.
Fortunately, I knew that food poisoning lasts about eight hours and as the rest of me felt fine (i.e., no fever or body aches), I knew it would all pass eventually.
But for the first time since arriving in France I missed everything about my old life. I missed my house. I missed my cats. I missed my family. I missed my friends. And I even missed my I-have-to-work-too-hard-to-get-by career.
I was seeking comfort and security. But it passed, along with the evil acid in my stomach.
At 1pm, Cate arrived and I had a little thank-god-you’re-here cry, and then we went out to find Beckett’s grave.
Someday Lessons:
- Sick and alone time takes the longest to pass.
- The appearance of a friend makes most things better.
A Mind/Body Lesson
Party-Alex is furious,
Self-Pity-Alex is delirious,
Introspective-Alex is bemused, and
Cynical Alex is amused.
Last night, as my sinus infection had improved and my cough had become nearly non-existent, I made plans to go out tonight - my one night alone in Paris. I’d go dancing, get a good flirt going and maybe take someone out for breakfast.
But this morning ("Of course!" say both Self-Pity- and Cynical-Alex), I woke up with a cold sore, no make that two (maybe three) cold sores.
Party-Alex thinks this is a plot to keep him from having fun. He only agreed to a life in rural France knowing that he’d have the opportunity to have fun in a city.
Self-Pity-Alex is practically speaking in tongues he’s so rapturous. What a chance to wallow! The whole universe is conspi–
Let’s put a curtain around his cage and hope that will calm him down.
I’m sure everyone can understand Cynical-Alex’s amusement. It’s not a nice thing. It’s an acknowledgement of the universe’s nasty sense of humour.
Let’s ignore Cynical-Alex too. He’s not helpful.
The me to consult right now is Introspective-Alex. He knows what’s really going on.
He tells me that my mind and body are working together to break me of a habit. The habit of always choosing the hedonistic experience when given the chance. Not that there’s anything wrong with hedonism. All my personalities heartily support it. It’s the unthinking habit of hedonism that’s not good.
As my naturopath likes to say, mind and body are integrally linked. If something is wrong with the spirit (mind), the body reacts. Psychosomatic illness, western medicine might say, but it goes deeper than that.
When the spirit if out of balance (e.g., making choices without thought) then the body responds with illness. Cold sores and a runny nose are the best way to stop me from having any sort of physical encounters. My spiritual imbalance is expressed by a corresponding physical ailment.
And who knows, I might actually learn something from all this…
Someday Lessons:
- Extreme measures are sometimes needed to break stubborn habits.
- Mind and body are connected. Ignore one at the peril of the other.
Lone Wolf or House Cat?
I had a roommate who used to call me a puppy, a beagle puppy. All gangly limbs and ears, ready to lick anyone or anything near me. Oh, and easily distracted by new smells.
Smells=Men in this instance.
And because I was a beagle puppy, I’d put my nose to the ground, latch onto the smell and follow it, not noticing the truck about to run me over. But this puppy self was also part cat. I had many lives. After getting run over, I’d pick myself up, find a new smell and head off again under the wheels of the next truck.
This roommate told me I should be a lone wolf, sexy and aloof. But I could never see that for me. I’m just not that loner-guy cool.
No, as I’ve aged (matured?), I’ve become more house cat. Affection and attention are great, when I want them. I still pretend to be a wild beast stalking imaginary prey, but really life is rather cushy.
But the most cat-like thing about myself right now is my desire to be alone. Not Greta Garbo reclusive alone, just self-sufficient me time alone.
I move through the world content with myself, but I still get to enjoy an occasional good scratch behind the ear.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a blank spot on the wall that needs staring at.
Someday Lessons:
- Unfocused optimism is useless.
- Don’t let others decide who you are.
Cancelling The Pity Party
It’s really difficult to find a silver lining in an eight-week cold.
Yes, for the third time, I am meeting Energy Boy with a cold. At least this time I don’t have a cold sore!
Last Sunday I spoke with Party-Cate who told me I had exactly one week to get rid of the cold (she arrives in Paris on Saturday), and Party-Alex agreed with her. Actually every Alex in the personality zoo agreed with her. Well, every one except the Alex who enjoys being sick: Wallow-Alex, aka Self-Pity-Alex.
"Poor me!" he cries every chance he gets.
He’s been feeling neglected lately. When I had my last 9-5 job, he thrived. He was the dominant Alex - so dominant that he was renamed Victim-Alex. He was so thrilled at being in charge that he threw a pity party of such epic proportions, it lasted several years.
When Entrepreneur-Alex was in charge; Self-Pity-Alex would break out periodically. He’d spend a full day wallowing and having a good cry before he was caught and re-caged.
After arriving in France and having my car accident, Self-Pity-Alex enjoyed freedom for a bit. But since then he’s had very little activity. He sits in his cage moping (of course). Last night when my lungs hurt so much I thought I had an alien in my chest, Self-Pity-Alex attempted a break, but I clamped down on him.
I’m in a fantastic country, doing fun things with great people. Why would I let a little thing like an eight-week mucus-fest ruin it for me?
Someday Lessons:
- Nothing beats a good wallow, but self-pity has a tendency to take over.
- No matter how small they are, focus on positive things to end a pity party.
Packing Thoughts
If I go commando three times, I’ll have enough underwear for the journey.
It’s thoughts like these that go through my head as I pack. I’m not the sort to think of mix’n'match outfits. I think in terms of wearable days.
I’m away for almost three weeks, which means:
- 4 pairs of pants - 4 or 5 days each
- 10 t-shirts - 2 days each
- 15 pairs of underwear - 3 (aforementioned) commando days
- 12 pairs of socks - basically 2 days each
- and a mix of sweaters and button-downs for fashion.
I’m good with the commando days, but what about the socks and t-shirt situation? Can I wear the same shirt twice? Will I begin to go stereotypically smelly-French by the end of the second day? And the socks - after two days will they stand on their own?
And don’t you dare get me worrying about spilling something on a pair of pants!
It’s a heavy suitcase and I could have packed less, but then I’d waste precious tourist time sitting in a laundromat. Who wants to do that?
Someday Lessons:
- Organizing is easier when you know how your mind works.
- Life is often a matter of trade-offs. Time? Or space? Or energy?
Lunch Today:
No lunch lists for the next while as I’ll be posting in batches…
Travels
Over the next three weeks, posts will appear intermittently as I will be traveling (to Paris, Barcelona and points in between).
Happy holidays whatever winter solstice ritual you practice!
A Helpful Helper
I think it’s time you and I had a heart to heart about your space.
Don’t play coy. You know the one. That space you think I don’t know about. The one no one ever sees, where boxes from old computers gather like bones in an elephant graveyard.
Where is it exactly? That I don’t know. The attic? Behind the furnace? Under the stairs?
You can’t hide it from me. I will find it.
It’s that space where anything you don’t know what to do with goes: a dot matrix printer, toys you’re saving for your grandkids, every single drawing from your oldest child’s preschool years.
It’s time you explored that space.
Don’t do it alone. Memories are pretty wild – they may catch you and never let you go.
But finding the right co-explorer isn’t easy. You don’t want Hollywood-sidekick types; they’ll either agree with or be sarcastic about everything you say. Authority figures are out; they’ll judge you and be generally useless.
And you definitely don’t want take-charge people. They will just make all the decisions leaving you with their collection of stuff, not yours.
So who exactly should you get?
You need someone who is: supportive, objective, asks questions rather than tells you, doesn’t control, and encourages you to do what’s best for your well being.
In other words, you need a Professional Organizer (in Canada or the United States).
Someday Lessons:
- It’s your stuff; you’re the only one who can make decisions about it.
- Make sure than any help you get truly cares about how you use your space.
Lunch Today:
Two mini-quiche from the bakery while I wrote.
The Time Fairy
Once upon a time a man who did too much was cutting his manicured lawn, when he spied a dandelion, a bright yellow dandelion daring to stick several inches up above the grass.
He went into his tool shed for his dandelion removal tool. By the time he was back, the dandelion was gone.
No, it was over there. He’d just forgotten where it was.
He walked over to the dandelion and bent down to use the tool on it, when it moved. It wasn’t a dandelion. It was a thin little person with dandelion yellow hair.
"Come to join me?" the dandelion man asked.
"Join you?"
"Yes, I’m having a nice wander through the grass. It’s quite fun, sort of like wading through a flat green ocean. Look! I can even pretend I’m drowning."
The little dandelion man threw himself into the grass and waved his arms around for a moment. Then he jumped up.
"Your turn."
"I’m playing squash in half an hour, then I have to go into the office and catch up on some work for Monday. Then after that my wife and I are having people over for dinner."
"That sounds really boring. Wouldn’t you rather play in the grass? You’ve spent so much time on it."
"You wouldn’t understand. You’re only a dandelion man. I don’t have time to play in the grass."
The dandelion man pulled himself up to his full height (5.65 inches to be exact). "I am a Time Fairy, thank you very much." He then pulled out a blade of grass and proceeded to turn it into a belt, no a sash, no a cravat. Yes definitely a cravat.
"What does a Time Fairy do?" the man who did too much asked.
"We give people more time," the fairy replied, as if the answer was obvious.
"I could use more time!" the man said. "Give me some."
"You really want more time?"
"Oh yeah! I never enough time to really relax."
"Okay." The Fairy ruffled his dandelion yellow hair and said. "Done."
"Um, thanks!" he said the man who did too much.
The Time Fairy waved goodbye. The man went on with his day. When he got to work, his boss was waiting for him, to lay him off. "Cost cutting measures," he was told.
As he climbed into his car, stunned, the dandelion man was sitting on the dashboard.
"Now can we play in the grass?"
Someday Lessons:
- Time is finite; you can’t create more of it.
- If you don’t slow down, something else will make you.
Lunch Today:
Nachos
An Empathetic Rant
Sometimes being understanding sucks.
I’d like on occasion to be a total ass – a selfish, angry and totally unempathetic ass.
Don’t get me wrong – I can be thoughtless, obtuse and arrogant, but never unempathetic.
As an organizer this was a great thing. I always understood where my clients were coming from. In this blog I do it all the time. I create reasons for things. I pop-psychologize and draw conclusions. Each lesson is a piece of empathy and understanding about the lives around me.
But in my personal life, it’s not so good. I can’t get really mad. I mean dish throwing mad. Maybe this is why I’ve always been attracted to the Romance language speakers – so much more passion in their blood, so much less cold Anglo-Saxon understanding.
Or I go for the guys who need to be understood, the ones who are cold and obtuse and totally unempathetic. Because this way, I think I’m the passionate one. (Every child of the 70s and 80s all together now, start singing Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz!)
My industry – professional organizing – comes out of the New Age/Phil Donahue/Oprah tradition of self-help, of understanding causes and reasons for actions, of not finding blame but opportunities for growth.
I’m all for self-awareness as something everyone should strive for, but we go too far, and we explain away rude behaviour as "oh she acts that way because it was the only way she got acknowledgment from her workaholic parents."
What. Ever.
When we over-understand, we allow people to treat us with disrespect.
And I’m not talking about the kind of disrespect that "dissing" comes from: that modern version of you-besmirched-my-honour-sir-and-so-we-must-duel where the dueling is expressed as a drive-by shooting for looking at someone the wrong way.
I mean basic human respect. There just isn’t enough of it.
Someday Lessons:
- Don’t be too understanding and know when you’re being a doormat.
- Sometimes rudeness is just rudeness. Don’t over analyze it.
Lunch Today:
Simple Beef Stew
Personality Showdown
Writer-Alex and Party-Alex are heading for a smackdown.
Writer-Alex loves Sauveterre where inspiration oozes out of every building, mountain view, and cup of coffee.
Party-Alex says "Eww, don’t get any of that oozy stuff on me. I’m ready to go out."
Even though he’s set to go, I’ve been keeping him locked in a cage. He wouldn’t do well in Sauveterre. The majority of the men he’d talk to wouldn’t appreciate the things he has to suggest to them. Plus they’re too young for him.
The poor guy didn’t get much chance to go out in Toronto either. The last few years, Entrepreneur-Alex was in control of the personality zoo keys, and rarely let anyone else out of their cages.
Writer-Alex does the socializing in Sauveterre, drinking wine with friends, surfing the Internet having written conversations with people, and talking to everyone about future writing plans.
But Party-Alex can sense impending freedom. One week today starts a three-week trip that includes Paris and Barcelona. Plus Party-Alex’s traveling companion is Party-Cate, who can outdo anything Party-Alex can think of.
Writer-Alex is going along for the ride and has insisted on time each day for writerly things. Party-Alex has agreed to that. He’ll need the rest anyway – he’s out of practice.
The question is: come January, will Party-Alex go quietly back into his cage?
Someday Lessons:
- Your situation changes what aspects of yourself you can express.
- Acting in the moment isn’t always possible – reality has a habit of getting in the way.
Lunch Today:
Steak with a baked potato and sautéed red peppers.
Collection or Crap?
In September, I claimed that you have too much stuff and that you should get rid of it.
Did you?
If you did, congratulations! Give yourself a pat on the back then go get rid of more. You still have too much stuff.
And if you didn’t, why not? (Other than the standard "no time" excuse).
Let me guess. It’s because you think that someday you will find time to organize it all in a way that will have meaning to countless future generations, right?
Wrong.
A lot of people say they have collections (especially of paper), when really they just have crap. Can’t tell the difference?
A collection is (thank you Dictionary.com): a group of objects or an amount of material accumulated in one location, esp. for some purpose or as a result of some process.
Crap is stuff that just hasn’t been thrown out yet.
Don’t know which is yours?
When you die, the things grouped and categorized into a collection will make sense and/or have meaning to others. And if when you die people have no idea what all this stuff they now have to deal with is, then it’s crap.
Let’s take photos – my photos – as an example.
When I was 19, I went to the UK, snapping scenery pictures willy nilly. Then I ignored them. Preparing for this trip meant going through photos. I couldn’t remember what any of these UK photos were, so being meaningless crap, they went into the garbage.
Here in France, when I take (digital) photos, I mount them on this blog by event and include descriptions. Eighteen years from now, they’ll still have meaning. And when I die, there will be an explanation for someone to understand the groupings. In other words my photos now make up a collection.
BTW, parents with baby/children photos, a great website for sharing and categorizing your photos is www.BabyBonze.com (yes, this is a shameless plug for my cousins, woo hoo for nepotism!)
Someday Lessons:
- You still have too much stuff – get rid of more of it.
- A collection is accessible and meaningful; crap is just a mess.
Lunch Today:
Cheese, Crackers and Baba Ghanouj
Endorphin Heaven
Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands, they just don’t. – Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
That line (slightly garbled) kept going through my head today as I was out walking. I started off my walk thinking I’d do my usual ten to twelve kilometres but then I took off on the open road, pushing past the limits I’d set myself previously. I refused to be constricted by space. I was no overly domesticated dog stuck in its run going back and forth over the same ground!
No, I didn’t do some quantum voyage thing. I just went father than I’d gone before. Today I walked a half-marathon – over 20km! I did this at the breakneck speed of 7.5km/hour.
Up and down hills, under a rain shower and through chilly sunshine, the endorphins were rushing and so was I. Several times I had to shout out a wordless "Argh!" from pure physical joy and pent up energy. This was better than sex! Forget chocolate!
My brain also sang snippets (the pieces I could remember) of Cole Porter’s "Don’t Fence Me In." I was free! I was –
Ohmygodmyhipshurtandmylegsaremovingontheirown!!!
With four kilometres to go I couldn’t have stopped if I tried!
As I was winding down and thinking about the nice glass of wine waiting for me back at the apartment, I wondered what a walk like this would look like in Toronto. So, at home again, lying on the couch, I looked it up: it would be a round trip from the waterfront to Yonge and Lawrence (for those unfamiliar with Toronto, you can see it here), basically up through the centre of the city.
Since I also used to walk a lot as a teenager (in a roving clump of suburban semi-Goths), I thought I’d check it out in terms of my old home town – and discovered it would be like walking from my old house to Canada’s Wonderland (again, see the map if you’re interested). Okay, so I didn’t walk a lot as a teenager, because that was one trip I’d NEVER have done.
Isn’t it amazing how the same trip in three settings was so totally different? The France walk was liberating and boundary-pushing, the Toronto one a boring chore, something only to be done if the subways weren’t running, and the suburban walk an impossibility.
EDIT: Oops forgot the map of the route I actually did do… The line is the walk home, the walk there was the road on the north side of the river.
Someday Lessons:
- Space expands or contracts depending on context.
- Don’t let space limit you – push yourself out of your normal "dog run."
Lunch Today:
Goat’s cheese melted on rye crackers under the broiler with fresh tomato slices, a bit of dill weed and some Baba Ghanouj.
Stream of Nomadism
Have you ever considered going totally nomadic?
Getting rid of everything except a car, some clothes and a laptop. I think that might be my next step.
Living out of a car is the epitome of a small space! I’m suddenly reminded of some show or movie where people lived in cars in the future. Excuse me while I go look that up.
… There found it! Americathon with John Ritter. All I remember about the movie is men wearing hot pants (men should never wear hot pants!).
Okay, back from that detour through my mind…
Cars… Nomads…
Right, I was talking about going nomadic, selling up everything here in France and buying a car, then working my way across Europe for room and board at organic farms and old crumbling chateaux bought by overly optimistic couples who then need help they can’t afford.
It’s an alternately terrifying and thrilling idea. Of course, one of the things that makes it feel safe is knowing that I have a woodshed full of furniture, dishes and personal stuff sitting at my parents’ place waiting for me to claim.
Speaking of which, I can’t even remember half the stuff I put into storage. I remember adding my favourite four stuffed animals, and three piggy banks from my childhood, and some books and records (unavailable on CD or as MP3s).
Even if I decide I’m going to stay in Europe longer, I have to return to Canada for my parents’ 50th anniversary in August. At that time I think I’ll go through all my boxes and get rid of more stuff, maybe even some furniture. I’ll let you know if I have a yard sale.
Someday Lessons:
- When it comes to stuff, absence makes the heart forget.
- Letting go of things happens in stages.
Lunch Today:
At La Belle Auberge in Castagnede, an avocado and baby shrimp (still in their skins!) salad and a so-tender rack of lamb.
What Tyra Taught Me
I’m a total America’s Next Top Model junkie. It’s such great trash.
But then surprise! My guilty pleasure actually taught me something this week. (I know! What’s with reality television having anything to do with reality?).
The season finale was down to three competitors: CariDee, Eugena & Melrose. Eugena was the first to go. Tyra Banks said that she just never showed how much she wanted to win. Even when asked directly, Eugena sounded unenthusiastic with her response. The other two throughout the series had not only enthusiastically declared how much they wanted to win they showed the judges their ambition.
Of the final two, if you look at straight competency, Melrose should have won. She worked harder than anyone else; she won more competitions and got more praise from the fashion industry than the others, and she produced consistent photos.
CariDee on the other hand, was a bit of a "loose canon" (as "fashion icon and living legend" Twiggy put it). In other words, she’s unpredictable and a little crazy. And she wasn’t consistent.
But CariDee won.
At first I thought it was just reality television – the crazy one wins because she’s more "interesting." But then I realized there’s a very good reason she won. She was herself throughout the entire competition.
Melrose, the perfectionist, was always there with a mask, presenting people with what she felt would help her win. You never felt she was being just herself. Of course perfectionists can rarely take off their perfect mask because if they do, they might show someone a flaw somewhere.
So, what did I learn? That to win, you don’t have to be the best. You do have to have enthusiasm, really want it and be yourself, faults and all.
Someday Lessons:
- What do you want? Tell someone right now! Tell the cat if no one’s around!
- Be yourself, your imperfect self. You’ll go further in life that way.
Lunch Today:
A sandwich… nothing exciting: bread, cheese, avocado, peppers…
Writing Update II
For those of you who are curious…
No, I won’t make the December 18th deadline I set, but that’s okay. All deadlines are arbitrary and getting rid of it makes me happier and more likely to finish.
I have outlined the rest of the book in the way I used to outline my university papers and I can now move forward step by step, knowing where I’m going and what NOT to include (something that was overwhelming me because I got to the point where I wanted to include EVERYTHING).
A Change Junkie
I get bored easily.
It goes hand in hand with my lack of patience.
This is why I live in the future and not in the now. If I don’t have "What next?" lined up, daily living bores me into total inactivity.
If I want to get anything done today or tomorrow, I need to have several months from now in my mind. That future may (actually, will) change a dozen times before I get there, but it’s there like a carrot enticing me forward.
My efforts to live in the now (saying "I don’t know" about my future) exhausted me, left me lethargic and slightly sad. Like I had no future.
I’ve been too weighed down by the now to actually live in it. I’ve decided that it’s unrealistic to ask myself to not plan for one or more futures. There are so many bits and bobs that need to get done every day, that when I focus on them solely, I get despondent.
"How boring," I think, looking at another day of cooking, walking, writing, laundry, dishes, and cleaning.
But with a variety of futures planned out, I look at today with enthusiasm and can actually get through the routine in contentment.
If you’re really curious about the possible futures I see, send me an email alex (at) housetherapy.net
Someday Lessons:
- Don’t expect to be happy if you aren’t true to yourself.
- I am a change junkie and live for the next new thing – who are you?
Lunch Today:
Baked potatoes stuffed with lamb, green peppers and onion.
Fritter, Fritter
Yesterday I got nothing done, really.
That’s fine for me, I don’t have to do anything; I’m on an extremely long vacation. But for most people, a day of puttering about with nothing achieved isn’t a good thing.
And why didn’t I get anything done? Because I wasn’t focused, had no concentration. My brain kept sliding off whatever I tried to focus on, like two positively charged magnets.
No doubt about it, everyone has those days. In one way I’m lucky that it doesn’t matter when I have a frittery day, but in another way, unproductive days like that leave me feeling lethargic and unsatisfied.
So today I’m going to do some planning that will get my mind focused back on my more usually productive days (writing, cooking, exploring).
Someday Lessons:
- Everyone has unproductive days - accept them with grace when they hit you.
- Don’t get discouraged by unfocused days - your mind likely needed the rest.
Lunch Today:
Leftover quiche - made with a chestnut flour crust which didn’t quite work out - when I get the proportions right, I’ll post the recipe.
Riding the Pendulum
I’ve gone too far into this live-in-the-now thing, at least food-wise.
The vegetables at the local supermarket this time of year are scary: limp, sometimes rotten, and with a limited selection. This means that on Saturdays (Sauveterre’s market day) I have to know what I want to eat for the rest of the week.
I can’t just buy a whole bunch of things and figure out how to use them because I’ve never been a bit vegetable fan and have to be focused on eating them or they just go bad which is a waste. In Toronto, I had a spreadsheet for planning out every meal in the week. I would change things up afterwards, but I knew exactly how many of what type of vegetables I needed.
But since I started living in the now, I don’t know what I’m eating for the next meal, let alone what I want to eat in six days.
So for now, I just go with the same vegetables (and fruit) each week – zucchini, avocado, tomatoes, oranges, peppers, and sometimes eggplant or leeks – and hope that I don’t run out. But of course I do and so end up at the supermarket trying to decide which pepper isn’t too wrinkled.
Maybe in another three months I’ll find the right balance between live-now and plan-for-then.
Someday Lessons:
- Don’t be extreme in anything (including your moderation)
- If you swing past a goal, know that you’ll get another chance to grab it on the next swing-by.
Lunch Today:
Steak, baked potato and red onion & red peppers sautéed with goat’s cheese.
A Better Past
Because of this fulfilling-a-dream connection to my 12 year old self, I’ve been thinking a lot about that Alex.
I’ve dwelt on hating that time, ages 11 through 13 – the worst years of my life. I focused on the abuse from peers, the need to be liked by these kids who felt they had to put me down, and on Mr. Smith discouraging authority figures.
In other words, I’ve been bitter.
Then today I was out walking, feeling great. I mean, how can I not feel great with the heart rate up, blood flowing quickly, endorphins chugging through me, and awesome tunage pumping into my brain? And don’t forget the views! I must remember to take my camera and snap a photo every five minutes.
Anyway, while I was walking, I experienced a polite elephant sneeze (that’s an epiphany for those new to the blog). I could choose instead to look at other, more positive aspects. I had friends who liked me. We’d go to movies, play at the park, go downtown to the Eaton Centre to buy those cute Sandra Boynton stickers at Mr Greenjeans.
I had a supportive family, who didn’t care that I hated sports and preferred to bake cookies with Grandma over fixing the jeep (again!).
I’m just as much a product of all those (and more!) good things. I can acknowledge the bad stuff then let it go. I don’t need it any more.
Someday Lessons:
- Always remember the Law of Attraction: what you focus on grows.
- Look back at a dark period in your life and find all the good things that existed.
Lunch Today:
Ground beef with peppers, onions and hot sauce on rye crackers (much tastier than it sounds!)