By All Means Necessary

I just liked the caption and wanted to see what it looked like.

Tuesday's usually the day in the week when you experience hope and despair at kind of the same time.
Hope that it is almost Wednesday which means mid-week, which means one day away from Thursday and THAT usually means the week is basically over.
Despair at the fact that it's only been Monday and the whole week is still kind of in front of you.
In such moments I do what is rarely done by people like me: I concentrate on the positive. I stay hopeful.
And what can I say: sometimes it actually works.

Point being? There is no point. I have decided that today's thought-bubble will not be empty for a change, but it will be pointless, meaningless, a bit of a waste of space. I am writing just to be writing something.
I am doing finger-exercises. (I realise it sounds vaguely dirty but believe me it's not.) In public.
Well, as public as the Void ever gets.

Wisdom

Wisdom does come in all sorts of shapes and sizes but I happen to know that it never comes tailor-made for just you. You have to make your own adjustments, take a bit off here, stitch in a little there. Make mistakes and bad choices, be a little happy, be a little sad, win some, lose some . . . All that will change your perception, it will enlighten you. The stitches and cuts you make are the path you take at the crossroads in life, they may be straight, they may meander and de-tour this way and that. They’re different with each and every one of us. Because we all are unique in our perception of life, in our wisdoms, in our experiences that shapes us.

In the end you will have your unique sageness, your very own savvy. It will be your wisdom in your shape and in your size. That is not something that comes ready-to-wear. It’s something that needs work, a lot of it and years of practice.

Blessed Are The Merciful

... for they will be shown mercy, according to Matthew. 
While I am not at all knowledgeable on all things Bible and have my quarrels with the Church, I have been known to ponder on occasion the idea of what makes a good person, not a good Christian, mind. 
Ms Kaine has some interesting points http://bibleunlocked.blogspot.com/2010/03/blessed-are-merciful-for-they-will-be.html - which almost had me convinced that I should look into Christianity more. But somehow I was saved from myself. It must have been a miracle, I guess. 
Then again, I really should keep my mouth shut about something I know so little about. 
What I do know, though, is that when I was a little younger and even more naive than now, I used to look down on people who only go to church on Christmas. I really thought I had a right to judge because I was such a wonderously steadfast church member and so dedicated at that. 
Seriously, I should have been given a proper slap for thinking that and holding myself in such high esteem, that's what should have happened. 
But it didn't. 

So nowadays I am just glad that I overcame that supercilious foolishness and furthermore I am grateful (listen to this, Brad!) that I have not turned into some bible bashing anti-abortionist, gay-hating creationist or whoever is out there these days that calls for various good slaps on their behinds.
The irony of it all is, I HAVE turned into one of those people that only go to church on Christmas. Because I simply do not care. Because I am a godless person leading a profane and empty life revolving around money and pettiness and ungratefulness and bickerings, grudges, greed, anger etc. etc. Yup, that is me. Thankfully not the Whore of Babylon, but not a Virgin Mary either. Just your friendly neighbourhood sinner.

How can I not care when my soul is on the line? Easy - I just don't. At least not because the Bible, or the Church, is telling me to. 
I believe there is a God without churches, temples, mosques. I believe there are good and kind people without ten outdated commandments, I believe that open-mindedness goes a long way. I also believe that patience is needed. With others and with ourselves. 
A friend of mine used to remind me that I needed to be kind to myself in order to be kind to others and that if I could not be kind to myself how could anyone else be. 
Ms. Kaine gets that. 

I am just hoping that the reverse of Matthew's musings is not necessarily true. (Something nice and pithy along the lines of Cursed be the Cruel etc.)
God could not possibly be okay with that. From what I have heard, He and His Son are big on forgiveness and patience, especially with the ones that deserve it least. 
Well, I am no God, oh boy, and don't I know it. In fact I am/we are all too human. 
And therefore, I do not feel bad for saying the following (again): 
I am all done with rising-above. 
I have phantasies of putting someone through hell and back. 
I wish agony and fear on someone. 
In fact, I rue the day I have ever met this someone. 
So much so, that I would like to cut that part of my memory out and burn it and scatter the ashes. 
And the reason I am writing this is to show how very un-Christian I am, but also how very, very human. 

When you're in love you'd do a lot for the one you're with, all's pure bliss (until it isn't, of course), and indeed the world seems made for two.
Lana was right.  
But even more so was William Congreve: 

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned, . . ."

Damn straight!

Monday Night Rant

So, Video Games pretty much sums it up, does it not.

The Things We Do For Love, as 10CC had it.

Every little thing we do is intended for that one we cannot seem to do without, whose presence makes us happier, shinier, brighter, makes us just about everything but a million times better than normal.

Us with the boobs, yeah – we are real suckers for this – and Lana’s spot on: we do put on his favourite perfume, his favourite dress, we makes ourselves pretty, we doll ourselves up, we wax and pluck and buff ourselves. So we can get screwed into submission…

Ah, I’m sorry. Feeling a bit dark today. 

In Love With Lana

Every single time Lana Del Ray's Song Video Games comes on I catch myself feeling wistful.

This is not a complaint.
It is a simple statement of fact. Video Games makes me remember and wish for times gone by.

So, in good old Bradley Cooper Fashion, I shall be grateful to Lana. For conjuring up such vivid pictures of the past. For calling the ghosts. For making my heart ache a little, for making me laugh at silly antics that seemed long forgotten.
She also put her finger on something that to everyone else must have been and probably IS so damn obvious but I have - once again - been in the dark for what seems my whole life.

I am not done yet but too tired.
So, more soon

I've Been Wrong Before

The period of nine months seems like a good amount of time for development.

Think human babies. 

Well, today I personally am thinking less babies and more personal growth. 

Whatever.
I, too, have had nine months. 

I have not done very well, though.

I have lost that competition if there ever was one.

I have lost to any fetus that has made it out of the womb alive. 

Wow, that really makes me feel special. 

In these nine months, I have not been able to overcome personal challenges. I have not been able to be kind, forgiving.

I am still holding a grudge (it actually should be GRUDGE, sorry to be picky) against a person in my life. I still want to hurt them and hurt them bad. I still have not moved on. I have actually RETURNED from the Land of the Sane and Balanced and I feel like I am now Carrie at the prom.

I also have the suspicion that grudges grow over time despite popular religious belief. Time does not heal all wounds. What utter crap! 

I have tried to forgive and forget. I can't. It does not work. Simple as that. 

I am not the bigger person.
I am not the calm one.
I am not forgiving as it turns out. 

Well, at least I know that much about myself now. That is what I have learned in my nine months of gestation. More like Jest-ation. Whatever... 

So I was thinking perhaps the Void can take care of this. 

If the Void is as big as I believe it is, then it can handle this, no problem. Swallow the grudge and all the bad energy, all the destructive emotions - because frankly I cannot. 

Let's see how that goes...

What Trumps A Grudge

Tiredness
Tight Schedule, Thus NO Time

That's what.

A Word About High Heels

I have been on my feet for over 12 hours, 10 of them I have spent standing up, running around at work, walking from one job to the other, walking home (remember, I have two jobs now). IN HEELS!
On top of it all I was stupid enough not to bring flats to change into after work. Which made my walk home all the more pleasant.

Heels - so innocent looking in the morning. You feel like you can do anything in them. On top of that, they make you look feminine and sexy. It's something to do with the way we walk in heels.
's what I heard...
But come evening, not only do you want to rip off those damn spikes, NO, you want to cut off your feet altogether because they BURN like a mother... And there is no relief once you have taken them off - the shoes not the feet - it feels like you're still wearing them. The pain lingers. It feels like a slow smoldering fire.

It is torture. I mean it all starts out innocent enough. But is that not the way with most things dangerous to your health? There are VARIOUS reasons never to touch or rather wear heels again, from foot deformities to being incapacitated and basically being rendered a Damsel in Distress, precariously balancing across cobble stones, always on the verge of getting those heels stuck somewhere or snapped in two or breaking your ankle.

Yes, yes - I know I am a shallow, silly, foolish woman. I let my vanity get in the way.
All that pain for the ILLUSION of having longer legs, being taller. All that so I can seem a little seductive, a little in need of help and protection, a little more fragile.
I promise you this has ME cringing MORE than you right now. Because, believe me, I am perfectly able to look after myself. I sort out my problems, I know how to use a hammer and a power-drill, I do my own heavy-lifting, I don't have a fit if I break a nail. I get on with it.
That can be intimidating.
Apparently.
So every once in a while I bend over backwards trying to be less intimidating. Every once in a while I put on heels and I lie.
I lie about my height, the lenght of my legs, my posture, my need for protection, my self-dependence.

Usually all it does is get my feet super sore because I am not that good a liar about the rest. And there is only so much you can do about the way you are made in terms of physique and character. Sure, you can keep working at it to bring about change(s). Which would tie in nicely to the discussion of self-awareness and growth. But, that is not what we are here for today.
(Also I feel like I cannot constantly write about personal development and kindness and conscious living because a) I am so flippin' good at it that I would just make you jealous which would be mean and b) I do like to get my meaning across in a covert way, in metaphors, in allegories and therefore, there will be MORE little stories of my little life. The void will then chose just how much I have learned over time. It will never tell me of course. But now and then even the dumbest among us get an inkling, right. So there is indeed hope for the hopeless. And I am strictly speaking of myself here.)

But getting back on track and doing something about the way you look. There is only one thing I can say I believe to be true: If it starts to hurt at some point, either change the look or change yourself. And that all depends on how desperate you are. Sadly, I do get desperate. I AM desperate. I put on heels, I go on diets. I suck in my belly to fit into jeans and dresses and I dye my hair.

In the mornings, like the heels, this idea of changing who you are - even just for a little bit - seems great and promising.
Come night-time, not so much. You just feel sore and depleted. Because basically it's a lie. The heels and the  "new me".

Until the next time, right?

Less Is More

Looks like I will be working a bit more. Therefore, the writing will ... well, kind of grind to a halt.
Just saying.

The Fit Of The Land

I have all but forgotten about the Bradley-style list, my own attempts at gratitude and inner quiet, patience, kindness.
I mean, I have been banging on and on about it.
Sadly, I have to admit that I have not been very good with keeping the focus on myself and my thoughts in order to be a better version of myself, to be less rash and more balanced, more patient and indeed kind to my fellow men and fellowmaidens. (And yes, I know Fellowmaiden is a font and not really a term in the English Language used to designate female members of the populace, thank you.)

I seem to have got lazy. Side-tracked, complacent, generally not bovvered.


Shocking! I know! And we're only three weeks into the new year.
What is to become of my intentions which are neither good nor bad?
Clearly they're also neither here nor there.
A disappointing performance so far! But I shall not call this undertaking a failure. Yet. I treat this as a minor glitch. A hiccup. Plus, I blame it on the dark. The lack of Vitamin D makes us all feel worse for wear.
But to be perfectly honest, I do not really see myself pulling me out of this slump.
I need a trailblazer, someone who is willing to go that extra mile and take me along.
Some kind of improvement-buddy, I guess.
Preferably someone that fits into my jacket pocket and just nudges me gently when I threaten to fall back into nasty old patterns and habits. Right, not gonna happen.

Well, up to very recently I was very much opposed to the idea of sports in general and of jogging in particular and jogging in pairs made up a whole new category of hate.
However, I have now changed my tune slightly - maybe it's because every morning when I wake my body feels like it's turned 80 while I was sleeping - I can imagine now that a running partner may be a good idea in order to actually keep to the schedule of alotted training time as opposed to not going at all because of "generally not being bovvered"-ness.
You see, that is my problem right there. I am not bovvered. I get these pangs of guilt and frustration at how I look and I inadvertently reach the conclusion that I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. However: such insight never stays long. I suffer from Fitness Amnesia.
My enthusiasm and excitement usually fizzle out and I end up not sticking to schedules, diets, plans etc. (I did mention this before: I am consistent at one thing - giving up.)

So I keep thinking perhaps having a person that joins me in the effort might be a good thing.
The ideal jogging buddy would probably be my improvement buddy, too. (Jogging as one rung on the self-improvement ladder, see what I did there.)

Inner Monologue:
Me: I do believe, I need to be my own improvement buddy! I need to be my trailblazer.
Myself: Are you out of your mind?! Do I have to do everything around here?
Me: Think about it. I'd be perfect. I cannot stand the idea of having someone watch me cough up my lungs while trying to move at a pace that is not considered moseying. Much less do I cherish the thought of bouncy, fit Sporty Spice chatting incessantly without ever needing to catch her breath or considering to shut the hell up while I quietly sink to the ground and die from outdoors activity.
Myself: I shall not endorse this kind of thinking. I refuse to be my improvement buddy.
Me: Well, if it is not myself then I do believe we WILL have to get in the chatty road runner. It's one or the other.
Myself: (shaking her Magic Eight Ball): Concentrate and try again!
Me: I. Do. Believe. I. Need. To. Be. My. Own. Improvement. Buddy.
Myself: How's that gonna work?!
Me: Easy! It's gonna be me. But new and improved. And I shall get myself together and start over with this home-improvement.
Myself: It's called SELF-improvement, you div.

I know I have been talking about it a bit, the growing and the paying-attention and the being-grateful and what have you.
But for some reason I seem to suffer from all sorts of amnesia, i.e. I keep forgetting my plans, my resolutions, intentions, my little promises to myself and the universe - call them whatever you want - fact remains, I get so bloody caught up in ... well, stuff (which does not even bear writing about because it's so silly) that it all seems a giant waste of time.
So while I have a clear moment I shall propose this to the void (btw. the void has heard all of this before but kindly and patiently plays along - every single time - the void is officially kewl):
I need to make the conscious decision to change. It cannot be half-hearted or half-arsed, as it were.
And yes, my favourite: no one's gonna do it FOR me.
Oh, and the perfect time would be right now. (Always is for some reason.)
See! Easy! (Did I hear a chuckle just now?!)

But seriously, if I am not the one who looks out for ME, who gently reminds me of what I want to be in this here universe, who patiently puts me back on track then who in hell is going to do the job?!
I guess, I do have to do everything myself 'round here.

Is it not strange how often we say "Well, if I do it myself at least I know it is done properly" and how rarely we apply that to ourselves and our own personal growth?


On this note: be patient and gentle and kind - not least to yourselves!


P.S.
I could NEVER pay anyone enough to become my jogging buddy.

Sometimes Bob Hoskins Is Wrong

I've just had a phone call. From a person I did not want to speak to. Not tonight. Not ever. I would have been fine to simply let them slip out of my life. I never wanted to hear from them again.
I was fine until now.

It was a bit cringe-worthy, that phone call. You are being badgered with questions. And you REALLY do not want to share anything about your life but it would be considered rude to simply ignore their questions. So I lied a little - alright, not just a little - while all the time wondering why in the hell would they want to talk or even - as they suggested - see me?! What kind of random wish is that?! I have not seen them in ages. And frankly there is no point in starting now. What could I possibly have to say to them and vice versa that the other would want to hear? Nothing at all.

That's precisely the phone call you DO NOT want to get on a Sunday evening. Trust me!
It somehow reminds you of all the things that feel a bit awkward in your life, the people you left hanging, the things/stories/business you left unfinished.
And THAT should not be pondered when Sunday is on its way out. When Sunday is kind of picking up its coat getting ready to go and catch a ride. Phone calls like the one I just had are like those people at a party who keep quiet all evening and then drop an "innocent" comment that has you wrecking your brain where in God's name THAT came from. (Plus it does not help when you feel a little short-tempered, a little snappy.) Odious creatures! Nothing to say all night and then POW! Vicious! Deadly! Like a flippin' stun gun. DO NOT EVER bring such things to a party. In the end someone always gets hurt.

But I digress.
No, Sunday evenings should be spent either on t'couch with a good book, a nice DvD, a handsome lover, not necessarily in that order but you get the idea.
Sunday evenings should not, however, be spent jogging (or any other kind of work-out), fighting with friends and/or loved ones, having weird phone conversations with, well strangers, basically. The sort who thinks they know you. Sunday evenings should be synonymous with Peace & Quiet.

Have now turned ringer off on phone. Big improvement.



P.S.
I was fine until now.
Dramatic much?

So, Friday 13th, huh?!

Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. It was yet another not quite so eventful day in my glitzy life.

Also I did not get run over, did not break a leg, did not even fall down the stairs for a change. Oh, didn't I tell you? Yeah, December was my Month of the Staircase. I managed to trip and fall down two of them. In two different locations with roughly two weeks between each occurance. Yeah, I'm thorough.


But today - not so much as a bump on the head... Ok, so I did spill my coffee...

But I was sort of expecting WAY WORSE and once you do that, everything that does go a little wrong usually seems silly and small.
I am not suggesting, however, that one should go about one's life expecting the WORST every single day, even though sometimes it may seem like a good idea.

I would love to write: NO! Go through life hopeful and with eyes open.
In fact, I write and say that often.
To other people.
To everyone but myself.

I blame it on the "standing too close" thing and the fact that one can give brilliant advise to others and analyse their problems and tell them everything is going to be just fine etc. but fail miserably in their own little scenarios called life.

Anyway, this was supposed to be just a quick note to say that I am very grateful.
For not much happening.




There, you see - Bradley's finally rubbing off on me. Ha!
Looks like Friday, 13th was actually good for something.

Too comatose t...zzzzzz

So, yesterday's entry was pretty pathetic.
I'm aware of that.
However, I just couldn't.

And I do not feel that much better today.
I feel lazy, tired, a bit drained. And therefore this will have to suffice for today.
Suffice?
Yeah, you know... to illustrate HOW pathetic I REALLY am.

I just want to go and lie down somewhere. Anywhere.
Honestly, I feel like I have some weird form of either hybernation syndrome or chronic sleepy condition - neither of which exists but it feels like I SHOULD have them.
Why? Because I need to have some kind of excuse for this state of mine.

Maybe I'm just getting old...

Or maybe after the Season-To-Be-Jolly there is the Season-To-Be-Dozy. And boring.

Not sure what this means.
Must keep track.
And go to bed early for a change, stupid!

Too. Bloody. Tired.

Really?

When I came out of work this evening, I heard blackbirds singing. No shit. It was wonderful.

Is this Spring sending a little Singing Postcard?
It's January, for crying out loud. Shouldn't Spring be resting or something instead of showing off like that? Why waste energy before the actual fun starts? Or is Spring rather a spritely fellow who likes to tease us?

But oh, that little glimpse of what it will be like in a few months was . . . hopeful, inspiring, beautiful.

Really!

And Just When You Thought

Did I really say "Why bloody bother?" yesterday?

I did, didn't I. But not before I had a little rant about trying to bring on change WITHIN me and failing.

And POOF - there magically appeareth wisdom in the shape of Mr Pinto on http://intentblog.com/transformations/ and sets me straight once more. But probably not once and for all.

Can I just point out that we are again treading the floors of the house of Impatience. It's where I live in case you had not noticed. It's where I stomp my feet and yell at the top of my lungs BUT I WANT IT NOW! So it was this time with trying to achieve the brilliant feat of (drumroll!): becoming a better person in just 10 hours.

And yes, I KNOW - change does not come easy and despite popular belief kindled by all things advertising it DOES NOT come over night!
Yet do I take a deep breath and stay centred and aware of my actions, words, and thoughts and thus go about my day? Doing so in the knowledge that I will not master this kind of behaviour any time soon but shall persevere nonetheless?

Hello?! Of course not.
I rush right in like a proper fool, as it were. And like a fool I get ahead of myself and at the end of the day I - yup, that's right, like a fool - wonder at myself when I look at the day gone by and find so many moments I could have reacted, behaved differently. Sometimes I cringe.
Ok, I cringe a lot actually.

Perhaps I should wear a sign that asks the innocent passer-by: Please tell me to bite my tongue.
Oh, I hear vows of silence are back in vogue. Boy, I REALLY should get one!

But back to Mr. Pinto and Transformation. One cannot help but feel that it all sounds familiar, that one actually knows these things somehow, almost instinctively. Not because it's trite but because (and here I go again) in our darkest heart of hearts we know this. Still, the simplicity in which he explains what happens with us in times of personal change I find quite touching. It's also a little frightening. But again, I do believe that's to do with the fact that deep knowledge, perhaps long denied, is surfacing. If it is not pushed down again, for convenience's sake and because we do not truly wish change to come.

The fact that I know about my impatience while lacking awareness in the moment when I am getting frantic/edgy/antsy/brusque even, paired with the feeling of remorse for certain things said/done/thought,does tell a simple tale. The tale of the quick fire gun. As long as I behave like one such thing I will inevitably limit myself, my possible outcomes, I may jeopardise my ability and that of others to grow and learn and fulfill my/their potential.
Because clearly you cannot un-shoot a gun, you cannot put the bullet back into the barrel, can you now.

(Does visualisation work? Anyone?)

So, Pinto writes that transformation can only happen when one is ready to leave the past behind and "begin anew". Bringing about change within yourself, in your way of thinking and behaving, putting yourself in situations/positions you have never been in, would perhaps never have chosen before. Looking at the world through different eyes.

And so I seem to be stuck in a bit of a rut with my impatience-thing - it's perhaps a bit of a crutch you could say - as long as I can blame my impatience, I don't have to face change. I can simply rely on that to provide an excuse so I don't have to change myself, to strive for a different way of life.
Or in other words - the House of Impatience has become rather comfortable over the years. Too much so.

Question is, will I make my way out in time, or will I not even find the bloody door?

Well, here's what I think is happening. I leave the House of Impatience regularly. Every day in fact. Some days I wander off for miles, like I never intend to come back. Some days I find it hard to actually walk through the garden gate and never stray too far.

Perhaps what is needed - and THAT is indeed becoming a pattern in my life, too - is balance.
Holding not just "my" ground but a healthy middle ground between my weaknesses and strengths. And with a bit of practice and luck and patience and goodwill maybe I even find that what I thought was "bad" is not really but just something that helps me change. And if I really go all out then perhaps I can even try to be thankful for the blessings that have not yet come to pass.

Oh go on then, the ones in bloomin' disguise, too.

Before I Forget

I DID break one of the glasses I was drinking from on New Year's Eve.

Yup, I could blame a whole lotta things on that one glass, couldn't I.

Now there's a thought...

The Old Me

Let me say this:

It did not go as well as I had planned.

It is flippin' hard work and I slipped several times. In fact, I don't think I did any good today. Nor did I make a person happy. At least not to my knowledge.

That makes ME very UNhappy.

Am contemplating whether I am therefore a BAD person. Or just not very good at changing my wicked ways.


How come that for all the good I tried to do today I feel miserable and a bit like I failed?
(And yes, I do know the saying about the road to hell etc.)

I think I know why people rarely change - it's such hard work is why - and you're NEVER done.
So why bloody bother?

New Week Here I Come

I call it the PKG project.

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men.

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

I shall endeavour to be patient, kind and gracious toward my fellow men. 

(Admittedly, a bit awkward and long for a mantra. Memo to self: come up with something pithy next time!)




P.S. Deepak keeps telling me to make at least one person per day happy. How do I know I have achieved that, though? I am not likely to be able to check that, right?

Yeah, Deepak - how do you suggest I count?!

Only one week into the new year and I have come to the conclusion that I am EVERY bit as bad and slovenly and gluttonous as last year. So sorry to all those list-writers and thank-you sayers, to the breathers and relaxers, the yogis and the gurus, the hopers and whishers, the aware and the enlightened. I suppose the LIST goes on . . .

Resolutions? Bite me!

I suppose one could now say: The year is but young. You simply slipped a little.
Nu-uh. I never thought I'd say this ever but here goes: What I have started I shall finish.
I rarely stick to anything but I do have a habit of giving up. I believe I can stick to that.

Good evening all.

Number 1

Ha, I just remembered.
On my way back home just now I did indeed see a 1 - one lady walked up to Eis Christina and tried to peek inside and then she checked the sign informing us all that they will re-open in February.

So that is my 1 for the day. And she seems to be as impatient as I for the ice cream parlour to open its doors once more. She, too, may be counting the days. She, too, cannot wait to go up to the big window and place her order like a kid. And then like a kid enjoy the smooth, cold texture of chocolate or vanilla or whatever flavour your heart may desire.

Makes me smile just thinking about it.

Numbers and Windy Season

On my way to work this morning I saw 3  people eating bananas. I also spotted 2 Christmas trees being blown about. There were 4 magpies struggling to keep their place on a roof and believe it or not somehow I came across 5 road sweeps huddled together in a doorway enjoying their morning cigarette.

I wonder where number 1 got to.

Anyway, it's crazy windy. And I am loving it.
Bring on more wind, I say!
Blow away silly women's hats and umbrellas and twirl around plastic paper bags!
Make clouds woosh by!
Lift up coat tails and swoop under doors and howl!

I would love to be Wind in training. Or Wind Intern.
Just imagine the things you could do.
Would there be a promotion at one point to Storm Apprentice or something? Though I believe such promotions would come with anger management classes.

The Big Bang Theory

Can I just say this - to get it out of the way:

Flat hunting sucks. 


I have come to this eloquent and rather smart conclusion just hours after having started this quest.
Yes, I'm a quick study.

Furthermore, I am unsure what to make of years that start with a "BANG" (for more on that read yesterday's entry).
I wonder if it is healthy for one to "start with a bang" - does that not muddle you up for the months to come. One may never recover. And then what has one gained?! A burst eardrum and temporary insanity.
I should like to start leasurely. That is to say - I would have liked that very much.

BUT! Since yesterday morning THAT is all out of the window. And I feel like bloody Gretchen in Faust, with my "peace ... gone/My heart ... sore" - though not QUITE for the same reason to be sure. But still. I feel worried and harrassed. And nervous.

The Bang - and size does not matter - is not my favourite thing, I can tell you straight off the bat.
As I have tried to point out before in my postings I like to meander through life and let things happen. Ok, so that is a polite way of saying I am a passive scaredy-cat.
The Bang does not help with that. It tends to get me more edgy and not necessarily more effective.
The Bang tends to do to me what snakes do to little birds and rabbits before they devour them. It incapacitates me. I am still sort of reeling from the experience and from trying not to panic and keeping calm and staying positive and optimistic - ALL AT THE SAME BLOODY TIM E.

Over-reacting, who me?!

Alright, no points for guessing correctly that I am freaking out a little, that I am essentially in panic-mode. That I would like to run away from this and pretend that nothing has happened and that all goes on as before. "As you were, soldier!"

I know, so mature, right?!

I feel a bit like I have to have a solution by the end of the week.
I also feel that I am very slowly catching up to myself and while doing so realising that all will not be lost if I do not have a solution by the end of the week.
And I am beginning to breathe again more slowly. Heartrate's going down, too.

So, suppose I don't find a new place on the first day I have started looking - should that frustrate me? Ok, don't answer that.
What I am really trying to say is (to myself) - stop being so insanely impatient. If you can master that the panic will stop all on its own. What did I say yesterday about the deep dark places in our heart of hearts? - That is where we always know the answers to all our questions, even the silly ones.
Unfortunately, we chose to ignore this inate wisdom far too frequently. In my case that is the reason why I am panicky, the reason why I feel I need to be impatient.

I am a nervous person by nature. I scare easily and I remember the days of my flatshare-times when I would frequently jump up and nearly go into cardiac arrest because my flatmate (for crying out loud) walked into the room unexpectedly. She would then simply say: Remember me? I live here, too.
I also do not necessarily like surprises. (Get this though, I get easily bored.)
Thus, I believe I cannot help but getting a little worked up about stuff most of the time. Memo to myself: Start with those breathing exercises already!

So that has me thinking - is this "BANG" perhaps a blessing in disguise?

A colleague said something interesting today: perhaps it is now time to start looking for something new because now is also the time that something "just right for me" is out there.

Only one way to find out, right?

Deary Me

Did I mention that the flat is falling apart?
Well, it certainly FEELS that way.

My favourite person in the world right now (aka HE WHO CANNOT BE NAMED) is still too busy and important and generally too deluded to be bovvered and so I am STILL waiting for the things to come to pass, i.e. continuation of the "WORK" that NEEDS to be done, i.e. exchanging the pipes and putting everything back to normal . . like plaster and wallpaper on the walls and the ceiling where it belongs.

I have had a letter from the above mentioned BFF in the mail before New Year's. But I thought, screw this, I am not going to spoil my fun and read this letter before 2012 has even started.
(BTW, my FUN consisted of over-eating, watching a truck-load of DvD's and generally being a slob really. I was considering calling into being the Couch Potato Society with me as Chairwoman - or should that be Couchwoman?)

So when I finally opened said letter it contained an awfull lot of name-calling and threatening if you ask me and had me a little scared this morning before work. I am still in a state of mild shock I have you know...

I know I have said it before but now it rings truer than ever - I will be needing to look for a new flat. And soon by the looks of it. That is, the new flat should materialise soon. My looking for it should have started like 5 months ago - at least that is the conclusion I had to make when I took a tentative and very quick look on various property and rental sites.

Anyway - I have - ONCE AGAIN - been thinking and I do believe my refusal to follow in Bradley Cooper's footsteps or rather his example has set a few things in motion.
(Let me re-phrase: my seeming inability. There, that sounds much more co-operative. And if nothing else I am co-operative.)

What if the universe now thinks me an ungrateful bitch for real - after the bouqet-incident last week that is all the more likely - and has decided to send me a little lesson?!?!? In the shape of a nasty letter and the prospect of eviction and lawsuits and other jolly things.

What if my inability to be grateful and openly so has angered the... well whoever runs the universe these days?!

What if I kind of asked for this?!

And if not by being ungrateful then perhaps by my moaning  - and publicly so (WITH PICTURES for crying out loud) - about the flat.
Perhaps the Chief Universal Officer thought, well she does not like it there anyway so why not shape the events in such a way that she will HAVE to do something about it.


Do you not find it worrying that I have all sorts of explanations involving HIGHER POWERS for what I am experiencing? Should I not have understood by now that the events in our lives are brought forth by our own will, might and energy?
I get it, ok. I get that this MAY be the best thing that could happen, like a little nudge to get active and start searching for a new place to stay. So why am I ranting? (Good point.)

Well. because I often feel that I am not in charge of my life.
And I feel that I am still  - far too often if you ask me - quite happy to bum along, as it were.
And I feel that in effect I am passive and waiting for some outside impulse to trigger my action, or should that be re-action.
AND I feel that I should not be like this at the age of ... well, never mind.

That has me worried. Honestly.
And I ask myself WHY?!
Is it fear, is it chronic lazy-syndrome, is it, dare I say it, some kind of self-hate?


Well, this is not the time nor is it the place. But I dare not guess. And anyway, deep in your darkest heart of hearts you always know, don't you.

Back to the point and first things first: I will have to get my head around thinking about a new place for real. Which presents me with yet another "problem" - the issue of WHAT THE HELL do I want in terms of accomodation which then triggers the question of HOW AM I GOING TO AFFORD IT?!

You see, 2012 has started with a bit of a BANG.

As yet I have not been able to decide if it qualifies to be put on any kind of gratitude list.





I wonder if Bradley does How to-sessions? DIY - The Gratitude List. Hm...