Let’s pretend it’s not actually, ahem, January 5th. Let’s pretend it is, in fact, January 3rd. The day which I had selected to be the Bright New Day. It was the first Real Day of the New Year! It was a Monday! It was so shiny and bright with promise!
Until I awoke feeling
really, terribly ill a little bit poorly, and spent the day on the sofa watching the first season of Heroes (remember when Heroes was good? It was, once, long ago), interspersed with some light dusting and thinking about how I should really get on with making some resolutions/goals/intentions for the year ahead. I have none of these. I have a general, vague intention to not be quite so rubbish. Specifically relating to; personal admin (bank statements, application forms for anything, library books, medical appointments, scary letters, non scary letters, etc, etc) personal fitness (seem to have signed up for another bloody Marathon, also woefully unfit for skiing holiday which commences in 3 days time) and mental health (using food as coping mechanism, being miserable/cross/anxious 80% of the time, distracting self with tv/radio/books to the point that any kind of silence is untenable). There are probably other deeply unsatisfactory elements of my character which could do with being better, before we lap the sun again and I’m forced to confront 2012 in all my glory.
Actually, I do think that having some plans and ideas put in place could help immensely with my main goal, which is really to try to enjoy this year. I can only really relax when tasks are complete and my “to do” list is empty. Creating some goals I want to achieve rather than those I think I should, means that the wee voice inside that says “Yes, but shouldn’t you….” can be answered with either an “Actually, maybe I will” or a “No, no I shouldn’t. Cos I don’t WANT to”.
Theoretically. Perhaps. We’ll see.
We are having quite a lovely first day of the New Year, curled up in front of the fire with our books, a Jamie Oliver inspired steak sandwich dinner is forthcoming as are wine and cheese.
Christmas was hectic, frazzled, and whilst not entirely unpleasant, kind of tiring. I was home for around twelve hours before I was back at work on Monday, which has been busy, but actually quite good fun. I had a smug moment as I was dancing around the kitchen, making chocolate muffins and thinking “Hee! I’m getting paid for this!”. By Friday evening though, the last thing I felt like doing was heading off to a Hogmanay bash. I’m glad we did though, as our charming friends threw a splendid gathering, which was incredibly chilled out and low key.
It was an honest joy to wake in our own bed this morning, safe in the knowledge that there was no need to bloody drive anywhere, and I was entirely revived by the holy trinity of coffee, bacon and irn bru. If the rest of the year goes as well as today, I shall be a happy little camper indeed.
No further introspection or resolutions for me today. Instead, as my sister said earlier – Happy New Year. May 2011 be full of fun and frolics.
Oh, this is so not the last time I’ll be using that title.
I’d like to say that my recent silence has been because I’ve been incredibly busy, working, having fun etc etc. That is partly true, but the main reason is an amazingly painful right shoulder/arm, brought on by a snowy driveway cleaning epic. It has snowed and snowed and snowed since my last post. And then it got very, very, very cold. I was reading blog posts written by some lucky Southerners who were bemoaning the “barely above zero temperatures”. To which I can only respond: “ZERO! We dream of zero! Zero sounds positively balmy when it’s a nose-hair freezing -13 degrees celsius!”. Seriously, cold.
I spent three hours clearing our driveway on Saturday and have done something nasty to my shoulder, which has resulted in me spending the rest of the week sporting a rather festive sparkly scarf/sling. I don’t know what I’ve done, but anything involving arm movements (cooking, cleaning, reading, typing) either hurts or causes a low dull ache in that arm for a couple of hours. Which is aggravating, not least because I keep thinking it’s getting better and then performing some vital task (washing my hair), only to wind up in pain for the next four hours. I’m avoiding painkillers, simply because pain is the body’s way of going “STOP!” and painkillers stop you feeling that. After nearly a week, rest is not helping so I’ve got an appointment with the lovely sports physio dudes on Monday.
Most frustratingly, I find I have lots of things to blog about (books, the awesomeness that is Masterchef Australia, seeing James Naughtie and Alistair Campbell at the Lennoxlove book festival, fitness, marathons, porridge, and the joys of having a real fire to make bread) and can’t face the incredibly tedious left hand typing.
Have a lovely, warm and pain-free weekend my lovelies, and please forgive the typos.
It’s incredibly cold outside. We braved the snow this morning to head to the gym and the supermarket. Siege mentality was hitting the shoppers of Perth, as I witnessed several trolley-loads of tinned, dried and frozen goods being rushed into the boots of waiting 4x4s.
Our trip was succesful and we spent a leisurely Sunday watching the football (Le Homme), making chocolate brownies and an orange loaf and reading the paper in front of the fire (both of us). I also made a stupendously good chicken casserole, the leftovers of which shall be added to some pasta for tomorrow’s dinner. Which makes me feel really, terribly, smug.
Also spent some time this weekend with the lovely chocolate people which was fun. I feel like the owner, P and manager, C, have a very similar outlook on food, and on retail, as my own which makes for a very easy life as I’ll be able to work well with them on an intuitive level. Am far less enthused about some of the other staff (one was heard to remark “Oooh, I’m just mad, me”). I shall stay focused on the many blessings though, the greatest being that someone is going to pay me to make chocolate truffles all day, for a small independent shop, using only the best ingredients they can find. No artificial nothing. Hurrah!
Shall be back at the Other Place (posh Scottish retail) for the rest of this week however, pottering around in Mail Order. Whatever that entails.
Am shell-shocked at the experience of being back at work. Having spent (as we all know) MONTHS doing nothing but putter around the house watching crap telly, suddenly being required to show up in the same place for 8 hours a day and be productive is like a cold sponge on a sun-warmed back.
What it has been useful for is giving me focus on those things I enjoy. Having limited free time makes me a lot fussier about how I spend it. I’m reading books that I enjoy, basking in the time I spend watching telly, getting back in to a regular exercise routine and trying to remember how to cook in the post-work-starving-hungry-must-eat-now fashion.
I’m practising a lot of Happy Thoughts, not spending days beating myself up about past mistakes, just trying to enjoy whatever I happen to be doing. I’m not totally there yet, but I’m trying! Definitely looking forward to getting back to a routine and blogging about things other than work woes and my mental status.
“Don’t worry about the future, it’s none of your business”
I read that quote in a woman’s magazine a few months ago, and it’s stuck with me since.
There was a whole blog post here, but it occurs to me that I don’t need to beat you over the head with my point.
In short: worrying is pointless, upsetting and generally has no effect on forthcoming events at all whatsoever. It occurs to me that worrying about my life is as effective as worrying about my wedding. Most of the things we planned went right. Some things went wrong. Nobody cared, and we all had an awesome time.
Upon my deathbed, I want to think “Well, some things went well, some things didn’t. But I had an awesome time”.
Today is my birthday. Twenty-nine years ago, I came screaming into the world and sometimes it feels like I’ve been screaming every day since.
It has been quite a year. Pretty much dominated by the whole getting fired thing. I should really be doing a whopping retrospective post, considering all the things I’ve learned this year, and all my grand plans for the forthcoming year.
However. I’ve spent a LOT of this year gazing at my navel and overthinking my whole life. I’m not sure it does me any good. Sometimes, the worst place for me to be is in my own head, thinking about life rather than living it. When I look back on the last year, there are very few actions, very few events that stand out. I feel as though I’m drifting, slightly off course, and rather than paddle hard to get to where I want to be, I’m trying to think my way back and becoming frustrated when that doesn’t work.
This year, I want to DO more. But it can’t be the things I think I SHOULD do. I’m going to spend my time, doing things I WANT to do. And remembering that sometimes, the two are the same.