All the news that’s fit to print

I have absolutely nothing to report, apart from the fact that I am bone tired tonight, and I don’t want to stare at a screen or think.

But I told myself I’d use a computer for non-work purposes this week, so here it is.

I told myself I needed to write consistently for a month before I rewarded myself with a new desk.

Well, I broke that and bought myself a new desk anyway, after nearly 2 weeks of almost, sorta there, vague consistency.

I bravely drove to Ikea by myself on whim, came home, put it together, walked away because I was hangry, started a very long week at work, and now it’s been basically 2 weeks and I haven’t been back since.

Talking about that Monolith again…

I’ve got to figure out how to balance Big Things at the job I get Paid To Do with the Hey You Still Need to Thrive things I do not get Paid to do (at least not yet). Because work will likely always be like this, because I got promoted last year and I have responsibilities now. And I’ve gotta stop thinking one day it will magically stop and I’ll go back to the salad days.

We’ll get there.

Still taking baby steps toward getting back to myself.

I read a lot last week. I’m currently reading Hamnet which is a historical drama lightly based on Shakespeare’s life, and Hamlet. It’s not a genre I’ve really delved much into (apart from Phillipa Gregory’s Tudor Dynasty books because I love me some Tudors) and when I can get stuck into it, I’m really enjoying it. So far everyone is dying from bubonic plague and there’s a witchy kind of mom whose background story is pretty cool.

I got back into working out, and even ran on my lunch break today (speaking of which, I took 3 lunch breaks last week – yes!).

I ate breakfast yesterday and today.

I’m working very hard to not go into work early and not stay late/work from home.

I was social on the weekend.

I managed to dress like a human being to work on more than one occasion.

Progress!

Maybe this weekend I can face my desk.

From the couch

Hi, I made a grand overture about getting back in to the swing of writing and then took 5 days off. Nice to meet you!

But I do have various good excuses, such as:

Thursday: stayed late at work to have a video consult with my therapist, and it was one of those “ow that hurts but also makes me feel validated and whole” kinda sessions. I was explaining the revelations I had and insights I gained and Good Things and How I Implement Them, and at one point she said “hey you’re killing it!” and it felt nice to hear, but I don’t think that’s really accurate. I wouldn’t say I’m killing it. I’m merely standing in front of all the Things I want to change in a provoked, aggressive stance, growling softly and saying “don’t make me angry…” which is still a big improvement from what I used to do, which was lie still and watch TV and hope the Things would just sniff me and go away.

So I gave myself the night off.

Friday: Super fun day! Went in to work and had a few productive hours in the morning, then left at 11AM for an afternoon off. Ventured to IKEA where I scoured the as-is section and found gems, then walked through the entire show room and market place slowly filling a big yellow bag with treasures while I listened to season 1 of Big Love. It was wonderful. And then I had this weird obsessive need to buy a coffee table at the same time I realised I’d been walking around for 2 hours burning daylight and I was hangry. So I made a split decision and bought a table that looked like it would fit (who measures amirite), bumbled my way through the check out, inhaled a hot dog (shoulda done that before shopping, rookie mistake), hailed an Uber, got home, put together the coffee table, and it was MASSIVELY too big. In fact, it was an actual bench for the end of bed or near a dresser, not a coffee table, even though the display I saw was with the side/coffee tables. So that annoyed me. Then it was like 5PM and I remembered I had to get groceries for Taco Night, and I was hungry again but it was too late to eat something good and I didn’t want eat all the Tim Tams so I just didn’t eat, which realllllly annoyed me. I wandered up and down the aisles of our new local grocery store (which predominately sells amazing Asian groceries and some random American groceries I can’t find anywhere else) looking for Taco ingredients but could’t find anything except a giant bag of round tortilla chips, so that was exciting (Australia loves those Mission style tortilla strips or triangles or you can get that tiny bag of round chips that barely makes 1 pan of nachos, and I personally think round nachos give you the most satisfying topping coverage and are more easily scooped – but I digress). Eventually I was hangry and gave up looking for salsa and assumed we had it at home (spoiler alert: we didn’t). I ate a giant Reese cup (choices) and watched Allen vs Farrow (more choices) and felt like I squandered the day (I didn’t, but ok). Joel came home and also instantly vetoed the table. Boo.

The tacos were good, but I was in a pissy mood, mostly because every so often I don’t handle Disappointment well and when one thing Fails (table), basically EVERYTHING fails (i.e. groceries I knew I had to get, no salsa, no taco spice mix, eating way too much sugar when hangry, Woody Allen, no electric dryer so clothes take 2 days to dry, had to run errands in the morning) and nothing will ever be good again – I could win $1k tax free and would still complain that it came as a cheque. But we started a new show called Line of Duty that I was all “fuck that it looks dumb” because I was pissy but 5 mins later was fully engrossed and we watched 2 episodes and that allowed me to part the Oceans of Bad Mood enough to realise “hey I’m mad bc 1 thing was bad and then it snow balled. Also because I didn’t feed myself when necessary. I think I might be the cause of all my problems.”

Anyway, decided not to write, went to bed instead.

Saturday: ERRANDS. Errands and house cleaning and one return trip to Target to get the coffee table we agreed on that morning but couldn’t buy then because we were carrying too many things home. Reminded ourselves once again to rent a car when Running Heavy Errands. Watched more Line of Duty and went to bed. Good solid day, no time to write. Told myself I’d do it Sunday before the bbq.

Sunday: Finished laundry and last bit of cleaning before sitting on the bed for hours looking at my phone before moving to the couch to spend hours looking at my phone. We had friends over for a small bbq. After years of ooing and ahhing over our friend’s houses, it felt really good to finally have a space big enough to host people. Also it was really cute seeing Joel chuffed showing off the house. Ow. Drank too much wine, ate so much meat, fell asleep around midnight without cleaning up, but feeling fat and happy.

Monday: 5:40AM came way too soon. Slept in til 6:30, stayed in bed til 7, ended up needing an Uber to get to work on time. Busy day. First pilates class in about 2 weeks, but it was led by her student and she kicked.my.ass. Left the class sweaty and broken but it felt great. Got home, washed all the dirty dishes, vaccumed and and Joel got home and spot mopped the floor. Ordered pizza and it was especially delish and we watched Mare of Eastown which is pretty damn good. Solid, cozy, hungover night. Had a shower and thought about how writer’s put themselves into at least one character, and how for me, that’s always the main character. Maybe I can write against my type and see what happens? But how do I know what’s against my type if I only know my type? Thought hard about maybe writing about that, but didn’t.

Tuesday: l-o-n-g day at work, feeling overwhelmed and unable to catch up because of Things. Stayed late to organise but felt too tired and frustrated to focus. Decided to try again tomorrow. Got home, changed into my sweat-exdo and grabbed my laptop so I could write even though my eyes were strained and I was tired of looking at screens. I didn’t write in my manuscript, but at least I made myself do something here.

So here I am, from the couch, updating. My 2nd day Pilates soreness is creeping in (can barely lift my arms), I have heart burn radiating in my ears from eating too much sausage for dinner and I’m so tired, but – I came home and didn’t succumb to the Potato Void, and instead put it on the blog. That’s great!

Baby steps toward that Monolith.

Selfcare and other terrible phrases

Had a long-ish day at work, ran some errands, came home, came upstairs, opened the laptop, plugged in the hard drive, and

Nothing.

Nada.

No drive, and no focus.

And that’s ok, we’re still trying to get back in the swing of things. The fact that I’m typing here and didn’t just bail altogether is really good.

At work today, my Wednesday trainer and I realised we hadn’t seen each other in 3 weeks. Which means it’s only been 3 weeks since we moved, and 1 week since I fried my brain at work.

It’s funny how time feels like it’s going backwards when we’re stressed, but when you start to feel better, you’re like “what do you mean, it’s been 3 weeks? Hasn’t it only been like 2 mins?”

Stress, you ol dirty bastard.

It’s also funny how you can feel nostalgic about those times where you felt like garbage, overstressed, sad, flat, bloated old potato growing fur and eyes in the bottom of the basket. But then again, it’s really not that funny – it’s how conditioned us depressive types get to feeling unwell. It becomes normal. It’s ‘easy’. We know how to work it, because it happens all the time. It doesn’t stop us from complaining and whinging with every atom of our being, because it sucks to feel that way. Contentment, happiness, comes different each time and is unpredictable. It’s hard to feel safe in that.

But I’m trying to re-learn what ‘safe’ is.

like –

Learning to accept that I can have good things in my life – like accepting that people can genuinely like me. And that not everyone or everything has an agenda to kick my ass. Like I don’t have to control everything. Like people can participate in the things I like to do without me feeling like they’re pushing me out. Learning I don’t have to launch into catastrophe mode.

Learning to give myself good self care (that’s a phrase that has less meaning every time you say it) — my trainer today asked me what I do for self-care when I’m stressed, and I honestly wasn’t sure. I thought, well, I reward myself with zoning out to a crap TV show or movie, or eat an entire birthday cake, or allow myself not to shower, etc. But nothing like, I do yoga or take a walk or meditate or write. And I thought, why don’t I do that?

And then I thought, this week I have: set boundaries with my personal time, I’ve taken the time to write at least 3 words after work, I met with my trainer today, I’ve bathed regularly. I’m listening to music more instead of re-runs. So, I’m actually doing a lot of good self care this week.

So hey – take that, Feelings Monster.

Ok, so I didn’t write in my manuscript today. But I’ve been a little vulnerable here. And that’s fixing the instrument that helps me write. Gotta have that good base.

Breaking the Block

I know I just blogged about writing success, but strap in because I’M DOING IT AGAIN.

Keeping up near daily writing is an achievement I’m incredibly proud of. Having difficulties with writing is the #1 thing I’ve complained and agonised about for what feels like the last 10 years. So I’m just as proud as I would be if I actually had something published. Continue reading “Breaking the Block”

Here we are, back again

Things are starting to look a bit different around here.

Yes, I’m still forgetting to shower every day, my diet still sucks, and the only exercise I get is walking to the bus, BUT – there has been a dramatic improvements in my life. I haven’t wanted to post about it because I’m afraid of jinxing it, but I feel pretty confident that I’m out of the jinx zone now. Continue reading “Here we are, back again”

I heart Winter

I freaking love winter. I look forward to winter the way most people look forward to spring — with renewed energy and UNFLAPPABLE OPTIMISM.

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I am always tired looking, but moreso at 7:30AM

Throughout May, it would steadily get cooler. Then we had day light savings, so it was cooler and the sun set at 5PM. But it never really got cold. And the weekends still got really warm. I bought a brand new down filled winter coat (see: UNFLAPPABLE OPTIMISM), but every warm weekend and afternoon made me think I wasted my money. But, I woke up on June 1, the first official day of winter, to 12* temps. And when I walked outside, my breath hung in the air, the brisk air chilled my lungs, I zipped my coat all the way up, and I was filled with unspeakable happiness.

 

COOLER TEMPERATURES!

LAYERS!

BRINGING OUT THE DOWN COMFORTER!

COOLER TEMPERATURES!

ENJOYING HOT SHOWERS!

HOT CHOCOLATE!

COOLER TEMPERATURES!

BAKING!

SWEAT PANTS!

HOT MEALS!

NO NEED TO SHAVE MY LEGS EVERY DAY!

NOT WAKING UP SWEATING BECAUSE

COOLER TEMPERATURES!

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unspeakable happiness, you guys

Granted, it’s no where near the winters that I’m used to. The temperatures are in centigrade, so 0* is literal freezing, not 32*. When I leave the house and it’s 13*C and my face isn’t frozen, and I’m not slipping on ice, like it would be in 13*F, I’m shocked. But I’m not sad. It’s cold, but it’s still humid. So it’s like, a warm wet cold instead of a bone dry, bitter cold like I’m used to.

Sure I miss snow, but I don’t miss scraping 2 inches of ice off my windshield, waiting 10 minutes for my car to warm up to only slightly arctic, or feeling my hands get so dry that they crack the second hot water touches them. But it does get cold enough to wear good coats and scarves, eat shepherd’s pie, sit in front of a space heater, wear wooly sweaters, and most importantly: it convinces the cat to sit by me for warmth, and I’m all about pretending that she loves me.

So happy winter, southern hemisphere. These mild, grey, and rainy winters without ice 100% make up for the blistering heat of the summers. If you need me, I’ll be blissfully wrapped in layers in front of the heater, or sleeping under two quilts all the while not melting into a puddle of sweat and nightmares.

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*I have a lot of things to blog about — like 800million things to blog about — but I can’t focus on one topic long enough to actually get a post out and they’re all coming out bad as a result. And instead of “picking one topic” and “trying” to work on it, I’ve just been avoiding it altogether. So tonight, instead of avoiding it, I forced myself to write just something – ANYTHING – but what I want to write, so I can break the ice. It’s like exposure therapy for writer’s block. So that explains this absolutely riveting piece of blog journalism. Enjoy.

Catchup.com

Once upon a more productive time, I used to do a catch up blog every month. Ah, the days when life was simple, unencumbered by the wild throws of admiration and attention that sudden success and fame brings. Continue reading “Catchup.com”

Twinkies (or, Notes on Inadequacy)

I showed up to my writer’s group tonight and couldn’t wait to share how productive I was last week – an outline! Research! Narrative! Character design! I AM PRODUCTIVE! Continue reading “Twinkies (or, Notes on Inadequacy)”

Out of Shape

Every night as I’m falling asleep, I go over everything I did wrong that day.

And I mean – everything. I know that focusing on the negative is a guaranteed way to make me feel like shit, but hey – some depressive habits are hard to break.

Most of the time it’s things like “why did I eat a whole cake” or “why did I think it was a good idea to skip taking a shower” or “oh shit I forgot to call/email/schedule so and so” and “hey you didn’t work out – that’s the 362nd time this year.”.  But always, always, “why didn’t I write today?” “I should have blogged about that.” “I could have made a post about that.”

I make no secret of my Writer’s Block that somehow morphed into an utter Creative Block which then morphed into Near-Paralytic-Anxiety When Opening WordPress Block. I can blame it on work stress, self-esteem, watching too much TV, not having the right kind of fuzzy socks to wear – anything – but the bottom line is I allowed myself to get lazy. I let myself fall into the “it’s easier to watch re-runs of The Wire than it is to sit down for an hour and write. So now I’m not only physically out of shape, but I’m mentally out of shape. And it’s been a struggle to do anything that requires creative brain power.

I had a white hot flash of inspiration (RIP Miss Lee) in December when I re-vamped my work space and made a plan to get myself back on track (new stationery = mega inspiration). Then I got distracted with the move. Then we didn’t have internet. Then I was working 12-15 hour days. I had more excuses to not do anything than I knew what to do with.

But on Monday, I had a rough day. Just rough all around. And as I was going to bed, Joel and I were having a pow wow, and I realised yet again that I’m still not writing, still not working toward what I want to be. And I’m still unhappy about it. And then I said out loud, “I’m not even trying. And I haven’t tried. I’m upset with myself because I haven’t tried. And really, I could just stop. Just work forever and that’ll be it.” And I felt painfully unhappy.

And something finally snapped within me. I have to try. I have to force myself to make shit happen, because it obviously won’t happen on its own. Joel told me “just write. Write a story. Not a blog. What’s your story called?”
“uh… Tacos at Night”
“What’s it about?”
“I don’t know – a cat?”
“…ok. Write it.”

So I did. I got home from work the next day, changed, and sat down and wrote for an hour. I made Joel (who barely slept and worked a longer day than me) make dinner and barely said hi to him when he walked in. I didn’t write a blog. I didn’t write an essay. I didn’t do stream of consciousness. Or a prompt. I started a story. And it felt great.

As I went to bed, I felt good about myself. And I remembered this article I read about a writer who fell into a similar hole. She made a tiny writing area in her closet, and sat in there with just her typewriter for an hour a day and wrote. After a few weeks, she got back into the habit of thinking and working like a writer. The time constraints helped her a) bang out ideas, and b) stop before she got burnt out and deleted everything. And it wasn’t long until writing stopped being something she dreaded, and something she looked forward to.

Today, I got home from work, changed, ate dinner, and wrote for an hour on the same story. Then I broke out Illustrator and dusted off my tablet and played with that all night. It also feels pretty great.

So I’m making a new routine for myself. Writing for an hour every day – no more no less. I hope it leads to advances in that whole “more hustle; less sweat pants” resolution I made in January.

If I can keep this up over the weekend, maybe I’ll be able to keep it up for the rest of the month. And if I can keep it up for the rest of the month, WHO KNOWS what will happen. Maybe I can start working on some goals – like how many stories can I write every month? Will I ever get back into the ‘sending out pieces for submission’ stage of my life? But for now, baby steps.

Let’s get through tomorrow. And Friday.

And I have it documented here so I can feel nice and shamed if I fall off track. Woo!

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