I Have Lazy Bones. Sue Me!

At 10:44 this morning, I was still in bed. Needless to say flat-grooming has not happened.

It is now 15:54. 

I am weak. I am weak. I am weak. I am weak. I am weak. I am weak. I am weak.  

Need I continue?


Still, I have done one thing thoroughly today and that's travelling of the mind, i.e. reading.
So all is not wasted.

I have also watched clouds chase across the occasional blue spot of sky - which made a nice change to all the gray of recent weeks.

I have watched the builders make quite some progress on the site opposite my house.

I have watched the rain pound against my window.

All was done with dedication. And once more I understood that joy can be found in the little things.

Just because the Void is big does not mean we should forget that it is made up of those very details. There is time and place for each and every one of them to be discovered and enjoyed.

Simply decide upon the where and when.

WWBD?

Indeed, What Would Bradley Do?

I figure, first of all he'd be real grateful for something or other. (I know, this is getting old...)
Secondly, he'd NOT be sitting procrastinatin' - I mean look how far he's come in the world. Despite the fact that he's got a VERY thin-lipped mouth. A lady of my acquaintance once warned me of people with lines for mouths. They are mean and cruel. Her words, not mine. Clearly, she had it wrong somehow. Because it seems they are driven too. And perhaps there needs to be a certain amount of cruelty to get ahead in the world. Maybe it's a secret club. With secret signs and passwords to get you in the inner circle, with measuring tapes for the smallest ... Oh, whatev!

Faced with a problem, good ol Brad'd dig in. Or tell someone to. That comes with the territory and the celebrity pay cheque, I believe. Lucky Coop.
Maybe we should not ask WWBD but WWBAD? A is of course for? Correct, assistant(s).

So having said that it is clear that BC would tidy his flat if that were the most pressing issue of the day - or have someone do that for him. The thing to remember is, Void, he'd get straight to it. No mucking about there!
Since I am not of his monetary calibre, I and I alone will have to get to work. Which looks dire to me, dire, indeed. Oh, the unfairness of it all!

Enough I say. So tomorrow - as all good procrastinators will agree - tomorrow, will be the day I shall invest my time in a flat-overhaul in the cleaning and clearing sense.
Yup, go big or go home, right.
Though experience has shown that over-enthusiasm is the downfall of many a project.
Still, where would be without a little naiveté, hm?

I cannot be stopped, Void!
And I will be at least twice as good as Bradley's cleaning lady ever was! HA! Even if it kills me. And it may...


I shall stop here and save my precious energy for my big day tomorrow.
Watch this space.



P.S. Just so we're clear - I will not experience tomorrow's task as therapeutic or happiness-inducing! 
What am I, Mary freakin' Poppins?!

A Little Colour

goes a long way.

Poetry Pot

_______________________

Give me the Greens

give me the Grays

give me all the In-betweens

Give me the sweetness of

Ealing on Friday mornings

Show me the eyes of Hammersmith

when I rush past on iron tracks

Dilute Piccadilly’s thick blood

for just one day

and let Hungerford Bridge

moan once more when the

last train’s gone

You won’t mistake the Thames

for the Mississippi

and they can’t make you

believe London never sleeps

for she does - when you don’t watch

Close your eyes

you can hear her breathe.

Wander with me through

awakening Clerkenwell

Loose yourself in Chelsea’s mirrors

and meet your Guardian Angel

over a cup of coffee

in Shepherd Market.

Steal all the needles from Saville Row

Pop their balloons in

Covent Garden

and then

stop

Run away towards the sea

like this muddy band

Towards the sky

on dirty pigeon wings

Show me the freckles on the

pavement when the sun

breaks through

St. James’s trees

Give me one single

rain drop

I’d sprinkle

across this night time beauty

Give me South Ken’s pale

Venetian mask

and King’s Cross’s bright red lips

You never hear

nightingales singing

in Berkeley Square

but

you won’t mistake the Thames

for the Mississippi

and they can’t make you believe

that London never sleeps

for she does - when you don’t watch

close your eyes

you can hear her breathe

Wrong, Just Wrong

I somehow managed to wreck my layout.
Now I have tried to recreate it - but it doesn't feel quite right.
It's like I have moved again and the new abode still has a strange feel to it.

The Void may agree that what we hold dear to our hearts must ideally never change.

However, The Ever-Knowing Void will now lift the proverbial finger (if it had any. HA!) and point to the fact that -

Change is inevitable. Change in fact is the only thing constant in our lives.

Have I said that before? Perhaps. Goes to show my life is a fuckin' re-run.

Point: I will of course endeavour to overcome my childish aversion to the new and continue writing on this here page that is in its entirety dedicated to The Void.

Amen.


P.S. One good deed a day, right?

Please Continue

Ah, the new year.
Still so fresh and unspoiled.
Let's see how long that lasts.
I know, ever the optimist...


Is it not strange how we expect the worst... of events, of others, of ourselves?

Must Try Harder

Class has not been able to make any progress whatsoever on yesterday's puzzle.

Wondering now whether task was too difficult. Will try and propose it at a later time, hoping to see at least some results.


I find myself dumbfounded. This, of course, does not mean that I usually know what to say. But in this particular situation I am, alas, powerless. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, as it were.

"Go with your gut" - does not help. My gut is as likely to be as much help here as a car mechanic in an emergency room.

Of course, strictly speaking, naturally it is not ME I am talking about here. It is all hypothetical.
We are moving in the realm of ideas and scenarios. Cases, if you will.

So going back to yesterday's cryptic musings:

Fact: the cheater has cheated.
Fact: the cheater has not told.
Argument: the cheater has thus lied twice, by cheating in the first place and by omission.
Counter-argument: it's for the best, what the other doesn't know won't hurt them.
Argument: the cheater needs to tell, no good comes from lying.
Counter-argument: it's for the best, what the other doesn't know won't hurt them.

See the problem?

Now what if we'd introduce a different aspect, like the cheater is acting out of spite and whishes to hurt the other party. In so doing, the cheater hopes to find relief, clearing of his conscience and the possibility of sharing a certain burden of responsibility. All at the expense of the other - the alleged victim.
But what if the victim is not so much that but a partner in crime? What if they are equally to blame for the situation that has arisen?

Clearly, I have watched too much "The Good Wife".
Good show, though. Takes your mind off things.
Unfortunately, not always and never quite.

Session adjourned.

P.S. Must get a gavel... (I hope you're reading this, Santa.)

Believe me sir, you want this to stay hypothetical...

Once in a while one finds oneself in a bit of a dilemma. We've all been there.
So what is one to do?
Men: carry on regardless, letting silence reign
Women: share, ventilate, get outside advice and/or second opinion

No, there's no third option. Believe me, I'd have taken it if there'd been one.

To add to the fun we will say that, hypothetically, a person has cheated/lied. Is this person to confess and tell whomever they have cheated on / lied to? Would this make things better or worse? And this depends on what?

You see today's class has hit a wall...


Input anyone?

The Ticket

According to James Norman Hall, "loafing is the most productive part of a writer’s life".

True.

There's A Price For Everything

507 EUR and FIFTY Cents to be precise.

Always Go Bigger

Yup. Double whammy! I can't believe my luck...

And now for some reassurance

It's so nice to have one's fears confirmed...

Summer Souvenir

the sun has kissed you
he made love to you
your freckles seem like lovebites

and now you're sitting on the edge of my bed
a little shaky, a little tired
like some child returning home
from too much fun and play

but your soul got tangled
by the beach
unable to let go
not wanting to

so you ended up holding the sky in one hand
the ground in the other
bringing me a little of each as a Summer souvenir

the sun has kissed you
he made love to you
your freckles seem like lovebites

and now you're breathing out the salty air
that got lost within your lungs
and your lips they taste of sea, of rolling tides and spray

the sound of your voice against my ear is
like sand running through my fingers -
tickling my skin
a second of soft warmth
then gone

I'm not listening
but can I steal a little kiss
as a Summer souvenir?

the sun has kissed you
he made love to you
your freckles seem like lovebites

you're leaving

a ship's departure from the shore
your dress you wear like a sail
brightly reflecting the sun

with every breeze there's motion
you go further
                         and
                                                 further


until your freckles are
only a smudge
a blur
a thought

Once was...

... I forgot.

16:37

That is the time I managed to heave my old bones out of bed. And I am proud of it! Eat that, Early Bird!

Also I look out of the window and at the mighty endless blue sky, the clouds making shapes and funny faces and I must confess: it leaves me totally unimpressed.

So what we've had a bit of an under-developed Summer?! Why this need for perfection, why this unhappiness?

And why oh why this blatant disregard of the need for acceptance and gratitude. I should inform the Bradley Police!

Also I am confused as to why everyone is getting their knickers in a twist about the blooming weather. Since it looks like this is what it's gonna be from now on we should really get used to the fact of Summers being either rainy and fiendishly cold affairs or so desert-like that we may witness a rise in things such as Riding a Camel - Beginners Classes, or How to decorate your Drifting Dune.
I do believe it has been made sufficiently clear that the chances of this weather/climate business ever getting better again are super slim (they're like the skinny jeans, the drain pipes of meterology). I mean it's clear that it's downhill from here, right? It's NOT going to get better (unless each and everyone of us decides to vacate and locomote at exactly the same time) and thus it's a bit like aging. You can't fight it, you can't win. Best thing you CAN do is do it gracefully.

So here I am gracefully sleeping in on sunny days, gracefully sticking to the shade and gracefully declining invitations to activities that involve exposure to UV rays.

Really, I am all about grace these days. I am practising detachment. I am not pissing and moaning about things I have no control over. You should try it some time. It's so liberating.

Only problem now: what am I going to do with that Bangin' Bikini Bod of mine?!

Talk About Over-Compensating

I leave this space blank for weeks at a time in order to pen - with tremendous effort, I might add - one big ol' lump of thougths.
Must try to be more consistent.
However, I have been struggling with yesterday's post for ages. Said lump of thoughts has been sitting with me, staring me in the face, stubbornly refusing to take shape. I kept writing and deleting ad nauseam.
So forgive me for feeling a little smug today.
Some people cure terrible diseases, I muddle through and finish a damn post that's been a long time coming. Results, clearly! On a different scale to be sure. But still...

So, Coop, what you say we be grateful for a moment here? You for all your big piles of money and I for showing some tenacity for a change.
Deal!

Golly...

... it has been quite some time.

I will not go on and on about it. I shall be sweetness and light.
For which there are plenty of reasons.

Actually, no. No!
I am not going to spend one whole entry fibbing about how bloody happy I am ALL the BLOODY TIME.
Because I am not. Alright? Satisfied?

Of course I am happier, A LOT happier. Actually I am REALLY happy.
But I am also simply shattered, knackered, exhausted, debilitated, frazzled even.

My Doc says it was ok to be tired in times of transition. I love that. I also love that Doc seems to appreciate the nature of my reality right now: happiness aside, I am still only human and have not suddenly mutated into Zeus' illegitimate daughter with super magic goddess powers.
Wait - weren't all his children misbegotten - out of wedlock an' all?
Alright so I'd be one in a long line of bastard children whose mothers were kidnapped, tricked, rained upon (I still find that one kind of disturbing and a little disgusting, too), played for a fool by this dirty old man. And he was married to his sister, for crying out loud... but I'd also be one kick-ass immortal who would not be tired out by a few double-shifts and pondering too hard on - dare I say it - the past. I'd just shrug and get on with it. Heck, I'd re-write the past and eradicate all villains in my story. THAT's what I would do.

HOWEVER, it has turned out I have no magic super powers. (Shocking, right?!)
My powers are sub-par at present.
I am not as irritable as a bear just out of hibernation but I am sure as energetic.

So Doc says to take it easy. Be patient with thyself. Get some rest.
Well if I could I would not need her to tell me that. But such ist life.

What else is new?
I have settled more or less in my new flat. Things are still all over the place. But I cannot be bothered due to aforementioned problem of too little sleep.

I have still not overcome delayed rage. Still harbour sinister thoughts against a person of the past.
Wonder whether these will ever turn into deeds...

Have ordered rifle catalogues online.

Only joking.

Apart from the superficial and, I suppose, rather average tiny things of the every-day variety, I have noticed something which does not strike me as unsettling or even mildly surprising, which says to me that I should not worry. If anyone (anyone?) else wishes to do so, feel free and be more than welcome.

It is something I have been feeling all my life, more or less - and I am not unique in feeling thus. I am not making myself out to be. I am just stating a fact here.
Namely that a person can feel - while the turmoils of a certain part in their lives have been resolved and put to rest, while new beginnings have been made and things have turned out for the better - a kind of happiness, or relief but also finds that it is temporary, fleeting.To many, I have found, it seems to be that way. To equally as many this is a sign that something's wrong. Because: if they are not happy all the time, something MUST be wrong with them.

Who in their right mind is happy all the time, I ask.
Who honestly aspires to that?!
Naturally, if quizzed, a lot of us state: happiness. Whatever that may entail for the individual.
But that is the question right there isn't it. What's it mean to be happy, to have happiness in life? Is it fame, is it health, is it the car/the house/the yacht/the trophy wife, is it having enough money to live comfortably, is it love?
This despite the fact that we are told by those apparently in the know that failure, hardship, even sickness is the "stuff" that growth is made of and that in times of crises we must turn to ourselves to find answers, for all the riches and fame in the world will not solve your issues. (Though it helps I have been told.)

My happiness is a fickle thing. It never stays long and often leaves a sense of melancholy behind and then a kind of stressed-out feeling. I do believe this stems from my habit of making the proverbial second step before the first. (Oh, time was when I would attempt to take the 5th or even the 10th before I had even started to take steps at all.) I sort of live in the future in the sense that I worry about what may or may not happen. My life is a chores-list and after one chore is crossed off I move on to the next. I do not feel satisfaction about the things (little as they may seem to others) I have achieved, accomplished. I do not feel pride. I rarely feel joy about them. It's just something I've done. Can we move on now?
I do not celebrate the bigger events in life, so do not even talk to me about the small ones.
Should this really be down to my inability to stay "in the moment" as it were? Yup, 'cause what I do instead is leave the present in order to speculate frantically about my future. And that I really (really!) cannot know or control.

My little friend called D.R. (the one that frequently leads me down the path of anger towards a certain person of my past) is also in on it. He likes to shackle me to said past. And I let him. I invite questions of WHY oh why things happened and I create ever different scenarios of what I should have done. Only problem is, of course, I cannot change what has gone before. I may know it but again I cannot control it.

It's an old hat, I know... all this being able to live right here in the present moment and how difficult it can be for one that is so easily distracted, that is so misguided and insecure.
However, the older I get, the more I get it - which is not to say that I am any good at practising it.

My mind wanders on very sturdy legs every day all day. It has not learned to be still. It offers opinions, it spouts them like a never-ending well, bubbling, teaming with incessant "talk" of likes and dislikes. I am thus only the passenger. I get carried away, in the truest sense. Not least from myself.

So, I figure, happiness would be detachment, being still within oneself, shutting the hell up.

Not sure how to break this to my overly chatty mind, though. "Right, Past and Future are off bounds, you hear me?" Yeah, that's really gonna work so well! And it doesn't stop there, does it now. Any kind of judgement would be on the list of no-go's. What is to become of my little rants?! I have to ask myself here,  Am I really ready to part with my tantrums and my bouts of self-righteous anger, my regular moments of complacency? I do cherish feeling superior. (Sue me! Like all of us ever only criticise others in order to help them. Bollocks!)

You see, it is a big decision. And I shall take my time making it.
And I shall take my chances with feeling a little happy now and then and dog-tired in-between.
Clearly, it is not bad enough yet for me to do anything about it all.
I simply have a high pain threshold and my "too much effort" radar is super-sensitive at present.
Does that make me a bad person? No.
It simply shows once more how strong one's resistance to new things truly can be.

Ah, times of transition, eh...

Oh, How The Mighty Have Fallen

Re-posting entries now, are we?!

Tsk, tsk!!!

Because I Can

... and because I like it so much.

http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.de/2012/01/blessed-are-merciful.html

Nothing Wrong With That

Today I have indulged in some retail therapy. I know I have been banging on about happiness of late. Well not so much here - because I was simply to exhausted and lazy (remember: TWO jobs) - but to colleagues and friends and pretty much anyone who listened.

However, something was missing in my life... yup - clothes.
Don't get me wrong I have not NOTHING to wear. I have a few things, but my warderobe has become so limited that I and it was in dire need.

I say this with all honesty: some had just given up and came apart at the seams. This they did on account of my at present rather shapely derrière. I have the matching thighs to go with it, too. It was sort of a 2 for 1 deal. And clothes can only take (read: strech) so much, I have been told.
Some of my trousers actually got eaten by the bike. Yes, THE bike.
I managed to get various trouser legs mangled in my bicycle chain.
That was fun as I was nearly thrown off while the fabric got churned and mangled and kept pulling me nearer and nearer to the handle bars and off the saddle.
What's that? OF COURSE I was wearing trouser clips! It just so happens that they're no bloody use when you have to bike it into work and the only thing you have left to wear are some ridiculously wide Marlene-Dietrich-type trousers. Really what I should have done was roll the damn legs up to my hip joint. But being the considerate ME that I am I chose not to and thus spared the drivers of cars and lorries and busses etc. a rather unsightly wake-up call early-ish in the morning.

So basically half my items do not fit, a quarter is unmendable and another quarter is ripped to pieces by either my heroic efforts to at least pretend to get some exercise or the fact that they rip on their own account. Just like that. It's like your clothes are giving you the finger.

But fear not - I have re-stocked the closet. All in moderation of course. I am all about moderation these days... (snort). Honestly though, I could not afford much anyway. Unlucky for me I still managed to go over budget.
But as this will have been the last shopping trip for quite some time, I believe I can get away with it this time.

Now I am even happier than before, would you believe, though a little poorer, too.
Yet - it was all very much necessary. I could not keep on wearing winter garments, Summer decided to wreak full havoc as of RIGHT NOW. Once more we kind of skipped Spring this year and opted for muggy conditions. Really no good to me. And especially tiresome without the right attire.

Anyway, rambling again - swiftly moving on - just wanted to say that I am not sure what it is about new clothes that make you feel nice - but they do and I like it.

Leaves the topic of how to reduce that above mentioned backside and the matching upper legs. And yes I am still clinging on to that last bit of hope that one day I will get up the energy (from whence I cannot say as yet) and go for a jog four times a week or something or do sit-ups and other such nonsense on a regular basis.
Because yes, personally I would love to return to a time when I and my joints and back were the same age. These days we sort of move at opposite ends of the spectrum. Not a good look.

So... what is one to do?

Thoughts?

Dear Void,

I was not sure you'd miss me and I am still cautious - you may be lying. Lying by omission, sort of.
You have been omitting from day one so I am in fact super-cautious.
Be that as it may - here's a little update, just so YOU know what I have been up to while I am - once again - left in the dark.

No. It's not a complaint.
It's alright. Really.

Thursday, 12th April I lowered the blinds in my old flat for the last time, I had a last cigarette. I did a lot of things for the last time that evening. It's a long list, believe me when I tell you. The next morning, Friday 13th, for the last time I saw the bakery switch on the shop lights, I heard early morning's blackbirds and blue tits once more, had my last cup of coffee. It was a morning of goodbyes. Not the soppy kind but the ones where it's ok to move on and to be happy.
And that Friday I also did a lot of things for the first time. A very happy-making experience, indeed.

A little symphony of lasts and firsts.

Fortunately, the newness has not rubbed off yet.
I still cannot quite believe it when every morning I wake up to birdsong instead of the bloody tram rattling by my flat.
I am still in a sort of box-limbo and will remain so for quite some time.
When I move from room to room I have to navigate a little. Things are sometimes a little hard to find.
Yup, I do a lot of searching and digging around these days. Not so much of the soul-search variety, I admit.

'Course I am still un-packed! What self-respecting single hipster on the move would be entirely organised and set up in their new abode?!

For now this will have to suffice. I am a busy woman. This is sooo a one-off!!! It's also a bit against the rules, I have to admit. So I'll go.

A What Is Gonna Come?!

It's certainly not CHANGE. Not here, not now and apparently not any time soon.

I have been wondering lately: does it happen over time? Or does it come over night?
Does it start out slow and small or is it like "now you see it, now you don't" - just the other way round, clearly.

You'd think there are plenty of examples either way, and I am sure there are. But consider this: there is a school of thought (well not really a SCHOOL but hey!) that argues that the only constant in our lives is change and that change is all about the little things that MAKE change happen.

So the big changes in one's life, in history, in science, in thought, anywhere really do not come with one loud bang and overnight. They do take their time, they sometimes need to be coaxed, prodded, subtly pushed. They grow, like flowers, like weeds and they will not be rushed. It takes preparation and conditions that are "just right", that are conducive to growth in any possible way, to development, to evolution.

Fine, so what of it?! Big deal, change ain't happening super fast - somehow we knew that, right. Any, ANY, diet could have taught you that by now.
And change does not necessarily come from sitting on one's backside all day, either. Yup, figures.

It really is about the little things. (Again with the little things!)
By that I mean the constant willingness of wanting to achieve change and the refusal to just snap back into old habits, comfy patterns, lame excuses of "it's always been done this way".
That is how a person evolves. That is how a situation can be altered.

Esssentially that means that when I go to sleep with the idea or rather the hope that tomorrow I will be able to do at least ONE thing differently, better, more thorough, and I wake in the morning and as the day progesses I change certain habits, then you could say, change happens over night. It's little, it's a start but if one is lucky enough to be able to stick to it, to become better at it and more dedicated to it everyday, these minute changes will cumulate and will result in something bigger. Who knows it may entice others to attempt the same. That said, it is not about getting others to change with you or beat them at it or to it.

It just occured to me that this surely has all been said before by much smarter people in much more eloquent ways.
So I'll shut up.

And yes, I do feel a little stuck and like nothing is changing. I admit it. And a little low, too and like a number of things are not working they way I had intended for them to be working. Story of my life.

And what I am going to do now is I'm gonna stick my behind on the couch and not do anything remotely change-like. I am going to sulk and moan and pitty myself a bit.
And then I shall indulge in a glass of water and a salad and some fruit instead of chocolate.

Baby-steps, remember!

Caption? What Caption?

I am half-way there. Have signed the lease agreement, am awaiting counter-signature and that will be that.
To be honest, I have no clue how I am going to manage this all. This being The Move.

Turns out I have no man, no van, just flippin' boxes.
A single gal's dilemma.

Perhaps it is indeed time to take - as Alex Turner put it so wonderfully - the batteries out my mysticism and put them in my thinking cap.

Yup, will do.



Shalalala.





P.S. The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala? Hello!

Really? Just 6?

http://intentblog.com/6-rewarding-ways-to-spring-clean-your-relationships/

There's Always More

You know how people say that one should travel light. 

I believe this to be true for both actual travelling and living. 

Note: before moving, do clear out your belongings. Because it is a known fact that if the burden is too great you will find yourself not actually moving at a noticable speed or worse, not at all. In live and on a journey. I am sure you have experienced one or the other at one stage in your life. 

Ah, but now for the moment of truth. 

For the past few years I have thought myself as someone with few possessions. I have considered myself as living light - at least in comparison to other people I know who own flats, whole houses, cars, holiday homes, stock bonds, pets... you name it. But in the cold light of day and with boxes waiting to be packed I have reached a grim conclusion. That which seemed straightforward and manageable now blatantly spells chaos. It is cumbersome and messy. 

In short I am not a fan.

I remember the days when all my belongings would fit into the back of a Vauxhall. Come to think of it that was when I lived in furnished rooms in flatshares, so I am not sure whether that counts. 

But as the years roll on and by you find yourself buying sofas, a bigger closet, more book shelves etc. 

And that is when you usually realise a) you are getting old (because let's face it who in their right mind buys a sofa when they are twenty-something. I was able to prolong that particular moment until I was thirty-odd years of age and I must say I am proud of that!) and b) that the older you get the more things you accumulate for the sake of comfort apparently. 

So far I have managed to stear clear of the possibly inevitable kitchen purchase, Lady Luck was on my side where washing machines and hoovers were concerned, I have always lived with someone who owned these things and was willing to share. 

But oh, how the mighty have fallen... at some point in the not so distant future I will have to consider these household appliances in earnest and make a decision - however, I will cross that bridge once I get there. Until then I shall carry on with my borrowed and inherited bits and bops. 

If need be I can get by on very little. And the way it looks right now, this theory will soon be tested. 

Haven't you heard, I am facing two months of having to pay rent x two. Plus the actual move, plus plus plus - do I really have to spell it out - it is going to cost me an arm AND a leg. 

On the other hand: less money, less stuff to cram flat with. 

P.S.

I know... This could be my Post-Move Fast.

 

Only set-back: it's going to take longer than 40 days.  

Life In A Box

First boxes are packed.
One set of curtains is being washed.
Had a good old clear-out..
All in all it's going well.

Bit of a sore back, though.

I must say I feel proud of myself and generally pleased with my life right now.
Because it needs to be considered that this is the first proper flat I am moving into all by myself. So far I have had what feels like 50 flat shares. I lived with girls and boys, just boys, just girls.
And now it's going to be just me. YAY ME!

I have weaned myself from "we" and have now reached a mostly healthy "me".

Ever noticed how one area of your life can be a metaphor for another?
My housing situation, my looming move, seem to mirror my personal life, i.e. I am clearing out and starting afresh. I am moving away from the past, from what has been. Sure enough I will be taking parts with me but mostly I will move on. That is the plan.

I have just been for a little walk and I have noticed - not for the first time, mind you - that ever since I've found that cosy little new place I have been saying goodbye to my neighbourhood. I cherish my morning walks to work, trying to memorise the houses, the trees, the shops, the quirks of this part of town. I trace and re-trace the routes, places and spaces that are soaked with memories of days gone by. That have silently witnessed brief moments of happiness, wonder and surprise, that have seen me in despair, without hope, that have felt my heart ache and that caught the tears. There are tiny pieces of me left here and there. Nothing big, nothing world-stopping, nothing extraordinary. Just a few years of my life, a handful of memories, the good, the bad, the ugly... that is how it is. And always.

It is good that I am moving on. It is time.

And it is Spring. I have been told that is when life starts over, full of hope, full of faith.

Moving On

Will be signing lease contract for new flat soon.
"Being over the moon" does not even begin to cover it.

In With The Good

... And The New And The Exciting.
Oh, I have had delightful news this week.
More soon.

Could It Be Magic

Looked at flats.
One of them could be my new haven.
If all goes well...

A kindly friend picked me up to look at them together. All afternoon I had been super nervous.
It was like final exams all over again. Sweaty palms, palpitations, queasy feeling in stomach area, you name it.
But I made it. And as a result may have found a little flat for little moi.
Of course the nerves had totally obliterated my ability to think rationally and clearly. Common sense was conspicuously absent, too. Thus, all I managed was to squeak out questions in between gasps of delight and wonder. Not necessarily the right kind of questions, the ones any sane person would come up with. Like what about the deposit, what about the estate agent's fee? The list goes on, believe me.
Hey, cut me some slack!
I viewed a newly refurbished decent-sized flat with a big kitchen, a PROPER bathroom and CENTRAL heating! I have been living on a building site the past couple of months http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2011/12/war-zone-and-fa-la-la-la-la-la-freakin.html ? Not to mention: http://somethingstartsnow.blogspot.com/2012/02/winter-of-my-discontent.html !
I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF!
It was a bit like leaving the Cookie Monster unsupervised. In a shop. With cookie jars. Full of delicious, still warm chocolate chip cookies. And the chocolaty bits are sticky and soft and ... alright, you get the idea.

Anyway, all I am saying is:
Fingers crossed!
And even though the Void does not have fingers, forget about opposible thumbs, I would like to think that IT does IT's special magic-y thing to help me out.
All in the name of the greater benefit of the universe, of course.
Haven't you heard - happy me, happy u-niverse.
It's that simple.

No, really - I would love for this to go right. REALLY VERY MUCH (and, yes I know I am using a LOT of capitals today. It's just to show just how important this is to me, in case it had slipped anyone's notice).

And if you can be grateful in advance, then I am herewith.
VERY!
Cooper, watch out!

Out With The Old

Cleaning, yet again. After two weeks of builders trudging in and out of my flat and me spending my weekends cleaning up a little as best as I could, the building work seems done and all is left for me is . . . yup, cleaning.
Am on hands and knees to get paint and mortar off floor. Super fun!

I do not consider this spring cleaning.
A) Spring has not yet come and no, a day of mild weather DOES NOT count!
B) Really, what would be the point? I shall not turn this place upside down just so that I can move out in a few weeks (fingers crossed).

No! I have decided I shall live in a tip. I shall let things fall where they fall and not give a damn.
Personally I would really like to mess this place up. But time is short and I would need a bit of time to plan and then for that plan to be put into action.

I cannot just go and get a blow torch. That would certainly look too suspicious.
Plus, where would be the fun in that?! It would be over too quickly.

I was more thinking along the lines of leaving things to rot underneath the floorboards, getting vermin to shack up in this place, eventually taking over the whole house. HA!

Sorry, my mind just does that sometimes. It goes creepy places.

Of course, I am not going to do any of the above.
And I will NOT turn into a horder in the next couple of weeks.
Though, sometimes I do feel like that.
I mean, the things we keep. Jeeez.
The clothes we have not worn for years.
The books we will never read.
The music that we do not listen to and never will.
The papers/magazines/newspaper articles we do not throw out.
The bits and bops we have cluttering up surfaces.
And by we I really mean I.

Funnily enough though, I am not generally obsessed when it comes to keeping things. I like to clean out once in a while.
I can let go (apparently much better where objects are concerned) and throw away. I do not feel remorse and end up digging through the garbage trying to retrieve that one special piece I cannot ever part with. It just so happens that between the cleaning sessions I manage to get so much STUFF.

So I will use this opportunity - certainly a good idea with a move looming on the horizon - to sort and sift through the things that have accumulated.

Ah, but there is always a BUT: occasionally it happens that I do find myself entering into a bit of a frenzy. I almost cannot seem to stop. It has never got too bad, but I am worried. And I also ask myself - if the urge to do something - like cleaning out one's life and all that is connected - is so strong should one not do it as thoroughly as possible?

I know, suddenly the phrase throwing one's life away gets a whole new meaning, huh?

I suppose it would be interesting to find out what I can and cannot do without.
I am sure there are a great many things in my life that are a waste of space, a waste of energy.

Would you believe it, while the thought is so very much intrigueing, I am too scared to act accordingly.
Like the rest of us, I cling to certain "security blankets".
And though I am a grown woman, I am not woman enough to loosen my grip. To actually disengage from superficial comforts, from naff habits, from a life-style that is costing too much and is still not enriched.

Which brings us back to cleaning out. Come to think of it, really fasting is another way of cleaning out.
But does it work in the long run?
Not sure, apparently that depends on how thorough and not least disciplined you are.
And if it doesn't... well, there's always next year, right?


So for me it's one OR the other. Two things at a time - never a good idea.
And, surprise, I choose cleaning.
Seriously, you DO NOT want to get or see me fasting (tell you what though, be grateful you are spared and while you're at it put that on your Cooper-List).

My life will be clutter-less.
And I stubbornly believe that it will eventually rub off on me and make me want to live and eat healthier.


... yeah, and pigs fly.

No Such Thing As Too Much

No, I have not yet had my first ice cream this year. But I have seen a few people with cones in their hands, indulging in the cool sweetness, despite the weather.

In my humble opinion, ice cream is an all-year-round thing. To be enjoyed at all times, in all season. 

Of course, there are those who believe, ice cream is a summer affair, something to look forward to, something that comes round once a year like Christmas or Easter. Fools, I say. Ice cream never goes out of fashion or taste and why in hell would I want to wait until Summer?! The pleasure of ice cream cannot be spoiled. It is always at least as great as the last time, even if the last time was just an hour ago.

And yes, we can add that to my list of sins. I am a glutton for ice cream. There were times when I would have ice cream for breakfast on Sundays. I forget the name but it was vanilla with a layer of home-made raspberry jam on top. Courtesy of Eis Christina, of course.

Why am I remembering this? Because it stems from a time when I was very foolish. Not so much where my eating-habits were concerned, but my taste in men. 

And the memory of that particular brand of bad taste does not seem to go away. No matter how many times I try to cleanse my palate, there is always this slight bitterness at the back of my mouth. Did I say slight? Nonchalant, but inaccurate. That whole sorry chapter of my life just lets me wonder again and again where the hell rational thought and sanity were hiding out during that time. 

I said last month I would like to cut out that part of my memory and basically make the whole thing undone. 

And I still feel that way. I regret not being stronger and walking away sooner from a coward of a man, a silly and selfish human being unable to share, unable to be honest, unable to speak their mind or even speak UP, a weak and sorry figure that I should never ever have allowed into my life in the first place. 

But I also wonder what I may have learned from that experience. Apart from hating that person's guts and being a little worse for wear, apart from the usual anger.

I have no idea. I am lost for words. And that is saying much coming from a verbose person. 

I refuse to believe that Eis Christina is spoiled for me now. That eating ice cream is spoiled for me now, too. 

Well, if it comes down to that then so would be A LOT of things. And then I might just as well just give up and die. 

Ah, but I can't. 

There is still so much more venom to be spread.


P.S. If I was ever made into a comic book heroine I want to go by the name of Bitter Almond and if I had a choice, my gal pals'd be Miho and Maya.

Like Totally

Young folks of today are too much for me. Really.
I cannot decipher their cryptic messages when they try to interact socially. Actual face-to-face talk.
Conversations with phrases and words, mumblings, utterings. Vocal-chord action, dude. Not so sure they have ever heard of that. And yeah, it's redundant to blame it on the whole social media fad. Though, one must wonder - is it really still a fad, was it ever? Is it here to stay, was it always? I don't know, maybe in a few years, some crazy kid will come up with something that requires keeping shtum, saying nothing about oneself or others and just being, getting on with one's life without making a big fuckin' to-do about it.
So both on- and off-line I am not sure I get them.
Perhaps that just means I am getting old and too lazy to learn anything more. But I sometimes catch myself being so bloody grateful for not having to be 17 again, and in this day and age at that. God, all that awkwardness, the insecurities.
Living at home!

Then again, apart from not living at home and having a few things sorted out - awkward moments and insecurities are like friends you never wanted, they stick around.
But despite the occasional moan and whine about the good old days and youth and looks, despite the occasional awkward moment and the doubts, I am more often than not relieved that I seem to have gained some experience, some calm and some strength which allow me to get on with it and let me be resigned, and contentedly so, that I am not 17 anymore. Or 21 or whatever, dude. (Clearly, some being the operative word here.)

More astounding than the young folks in general, mind-boggling even, are the younger members of the opposite sex. Not that I was ever any good at reading a man's mind, his thoughts, should he have any. Chances are that I get even worse the younger they are. But what is it with their inability to shut the heck up?! I don't mind friendly banter, even witty flirting. But "too much information", too much talking - not so much. Seriously, if I want to chat, I go online - they of all people should understand that.
Perhaps it's just age and having been there already and having heard it all before and having been impressed once but not anymore by their little sad stories and their antics and their adventures and how they are so misunderstood.

Sometimes though - rarely, admittedly - they surprise you. No matter what age.
They seem thoughtful. And pensive. Focused. In a good way. Surprisingly so. Ah, but there it is, that word seem. Alright, I am rambling. Could well be that I have gained less experience than I thought. Could be that I am still as inept at getting male signals right as I ever was. Maybe I am simply not seasoned and wise.

Only problem is, experience or no, when you get it all wrong at 36 you feel just like the fool you were at 17. Personally, I very much try to avoid that. Without much success evidently.

But I am not going to order my tombstone any time soon or take up knitting or some other such nonsense.
So, more silly antics of a silly lady.
I had to stop for a second and think whether I could get away with writing "young" lady. I am not sure. But "middle-aged" seems utterly wrong, too and out-dated and frankly like a spinster from a Jane Austen novel. Well, in her day and age I would have been.

Oh dear lord...

The Winter Of My Discontent

Just got home...
to find my toilet completely unconnected from the main water pipe...

Dear Void, please DO give me the strength to stay calm.
Furthermore, PLEASE let my landlord find a qualified water/drain/pipe guy who can fix this. And fix it yesterday.
Also, I would like you, darling Void, to point me in the direction to understanding WHY THE FUCK ME AGAIN????

It's Friday.
I have a flat that is still missing wallpaper, paint, tiles (don't get me started!) and...oh yes, a flippin' loo that works.
I have had a week of builders walking in and out, the rooms I can live in look like a horder's den, boxes and stuff everywhere. I am basically living out of a suitcase. Every morning I carry my toiletries around like I'm on a bloody camping site.

I must say I have been pretty darn patient and graceful about all of what's been going on lately.
But this is really taking the biscuit... I have no rising-above left in me.
I HAVE NO TOILET!

Not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Did I mention that the flat-hunt is not going too well.

So, happy freakin' weekend to all!

P.S. Dear Mr. Cooper, what do you suggest I put on that gratitude list for today?

F(requently) A(ttempted) Q(uest)

I fail regularly at being the bigger, the better person, at indeed rising above.
I much rather go for mean-spirited and petty, resentful and unforgiving.

Thus reads today's thought bubble: When is a good time to let go of one's negativity?
(Oh, I know Deepak's answer to that. And I can already hear the Void's utter silence.)

I am asking nevertheless, how can I possibly let go and forgive/forget when so much is left unsaid?
This is indeed about unfinished business and I feel like I am stewing. I need to get this off my chest at some point.
Having said that, there is the argument to be made that there is no point, the conversation (as all the conversations in that particular chapter of my life) would be a one-way street, pointless to go into it, you cannot (re-)turn.

But perhaps I need to let go of those thoughts despite the silence at the other end and the incomprehension and the failure to be sorry and mean it in order to let go of all the bad I have accumulated inside of me. The rage. The grudge. The hate.

Talk about saving yourself, huh? Frankly, I don't have time to wait for divine retribution. Could be I missed it, could also be it never comes.
And clearly, I am refering to the other party here who should be paying a little for a change, not me, because, believe you me, I have had MY share, thank you very much!

But that is also the dilemma right there - while I want to be free of my pain, I want to inflict it on others. I want to spread it around, because I find it unbearable.
Alright, honestly - it's not so much others, it is one person in particular.
We all know how it goes.
You hurt me, I hurt you back. It's like the Mafia.

Note to myself: must watch "Godfather".

And NO!, I am not going to send him a horse's head.
Where in hell would I get a horse's head, for crying out loud?! Yellow Pages?
It is tempting, though. REALLY tempting.

Also I am not turning into Ms Close 'round Fatal Attraction.

I just have a lot of delayed rage, that is all.
And that does not make me of unsound mind.


I was just asking a simple question...

It's The Little Things

Cleaned toilet with old tooth brush of ex-lover.
Feel strangely happy.

Home Is...

Some progress on the home-front. Praise the Void.
Once more I have had strange men in my flat. Fear not. All professionals of the building craft.
Waterpipes have been changed, would you believe it.
The corridor is now "plus ceiling".
Walls still pretty much the same, i.e. they do not bear looking at or writing about.

Flat-hunt: not going too well.


Am determined to stay optimistic.

Need I Say More

All is well. Eis Christina is open again.

Thinking, And Thinking Hard...

So I have not written for a couple of days...
So what?
It's not like The Void cares.

Besides it seems as though Winter has finally understood his job description and is now officially getting on with it. Hurrah!
Though THAT means, it's almost too cold to think. And therefore, today's thought-bubble is rather empty I'm afraid.

My suggestion: do your own thinking!
Or if you're The Void: don't give a crap about somebody else's musings for a change.

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...