The armpit of the year (and other thoughts)....

I heard that quote on a radio show and to my mind it perfectly describes the days between Christmas and New Year.   I think everyone feels the malaise to a certain degree, the anti-climax of the big day, too much time with the family, enforced jollity, too much time to think, lists of chores planned when there was no time are now neglected because who can be bothered due to general mental exhaustion.  I have also been suffering over the last few days from post Madmen (series 5) blues.  If it isn't already, it should be a recognised syndrome.  This series isn't for the faint-hearted and although sharp, sleek, brilliantly well written and executed drama, it is sometimes cynical but compelling (and masochistic) viewing for anyone who has spent their working life in offices. 

Having said that I do want to be Joan when I grow up....  I bet the actress that plays her would like to as well as she gets the best lines and really does try to help in her own way. 

28th Dec - the last episodes of series five were followed by a fitful night after drinking and eating late again, I went for an early morning walk which turned into an even longer walk and I was tired and emotional and feeling the withdrawal effects of the MM world.  However, after a coffee and read of the paper I began to feel better and it was due in no small part to reading my stars.  Instead of the usual fare, the compiler took a holiday and put in a quote from a notable person with the same star sign.  Mine was from Mother Teresa and I felt quite humbled and instantly better after reading it ...

"People are often unreasonable and self-centred.  Forgive them anyway.  If you are honest, people may cheat you.  Be honest anyway.  If you find happiness, people may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.  The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.  Do good anyway.  Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.  Give your best anyway."

Then out of interest, and as I suppose if any of this star business has any basis and is responsible for my psyche, I read my Dad's and then my Mum's too - yin & yang but the two sides of my personality are perfectly summed up....

"Unhappiness is the ultimate form of self-indulgence... you get to take yourself oh so very seriously.  The unhappy person resents it when you try to cheer him up, because that means he has to stop dwelling on himself and start paying attention to the universe." Tom Robbins

"On planet Earth, man has always assumed he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars etc - while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time.  Conversely, the dolphins had always believed they were far more intelligent than man for precisely the same reasons." Douglas Adams

For good measure, I read my beloveds ...

"Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and give thanks continuously.  And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.  There is no beautifier of complexion, or form, or behaviour, like the wish to scatter joy and not pain around us" Ralph Waldo Emerson

All very sound advice and I want to take heed.  So far I am on day 3 of the new me...... despite it all, I am doing right anyway.  The Mayans might be right and the end of 2012 could indicate a new era.  It is unlikely to be all about me but you never know and perhaps the Universe will give me a hand to think more like a dolphin and get things into the proper proportion!

Run rabbit run....

Now I, like most adults, get the occasional urge to indulge in a little DIY, precision (no fuss-no frills) pleasure.  During these rare interludes, I have a pleasant half hour of me me me time and my pal Roger the Rabbit makes a guest appearance.  He is nothing special to look at but he does have his uses - even sans his AA's. 

I remember the occasion when Roger came into my life for the first time.  I was having lunch for some great gal pals, Amalie, Ellie and Carol and inevitably because of the company I was with, the conversation turned to bedroom gymnastics.  It then transpired that they sometimes employed plastic aids and they were as one, horrified when I told them that not only did I not use them, I had none.  Now I can't recall if my colleagues had imbibed over our repast (I don't think we did) but they all insisted that post-lunch, we go (they practically marched me) to the High Street purveyor of toys and dress ups for big boys and girls.  Well what a selection.  I choose Roger as he was modest in price (and size.....!) had the basic functions and at that time, the very popular TV series featuring Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and of course, Charlotte had recently aired an advert for Roger and his friends - the alternative adventures of Brier Rabbit!  The funniest thing was that after making my selection and going to the counter, the check out chick asked me 1) if I would like some special cleansing wipes for Roger and 2) did I want to super-size it.....  my eyes watered as I politely declined and handed over my credit card.

The girls knew that my partner was away that weekend and warmly congratulated me in anticipation of my introductory session with my new friend (the honeymoon if you will..)  I remember feeling a little uncomfortable (no pun intended) as I opened my present - almost like I was cheating and with trepidation, experimented with the various buttons and speeds.  I recall many minutes of feminine rushes and I was a convert.  Thank you ladies.

I let the AA's wear down over the following months and Roger came out to play less and less but nonetheless he stays on my Christmas card list.  We had a visit just recently when the stars aligned and after his post session cleanse I went to put him back in his downtime space but must have got distracted by something and rather than putting him back, I just put him nearby.  I then promptly forgot all about it and Roger stood upon the shelf loud & proud and was no doubt enjoying his freedom for a few hours.   Fast forward to that evening when my partner returned from work and I was sitting watching telly with the cat on my lap having a brush.  He went into Roger's room to alight his work accouterments and then turned around to put some loose change into the container and some Kerr-ching cash into this slush fund which was on the same shelving unit as Roger, who was no doubt winking at him, sending out a silent Ha-Ha - channelling Nelson in the Simpsons.  I do wonder what went through my partner's mind but I had admitted to owning Roger previously but I guess it was a case of our of sight out of mind.  So he picked Roger up and brought him out to me to ask why he was on display...... I think I kept a straight face and said I was clearing out my drawers (whoop whoop) and had thought to throw him away.  So little loyalty on my part!  I said he could have Roger if he wanted to and I got a no thanks in response and he put Roger back where he found him.  As I type Roger is still standing loud and proud on the shelving unit but it has been a few days of freedom and I think he should go back in his box now.  Nite nite Roger, I don't plan to throw you away like that kid in Toy Story but I cannot say when I will get you out to play again, you may be in hibernation for a while. 

Thats all folks but do treat yourself to some new AA's soon!

 

Bread and Circuses

Here I am again,4.40am and awake once more because of over-indulgence, this time wine and bread (linseed and soy toast spread thick with butter) as I was on the red and 2/3rds into the bottle, I couldn't be bothered to cook.  In fact I had earmarked a main course salad but that was not appealing once I had started boozing and so I think I had about four-rounds, and fairly late at night....

I have eaten bread as far back as I can remember, the fresher, the better and I love it, but along with wine it is becoming a dangerous and increasing indigestible combo.  I do crave carbs though when drinking - the two substances seem to go hand in hand but as I type, I feel pretty horrible again and why..... they both have to go. 

REMEMBER THIS FEELING

Let's talk about ...

... I can't complete that song title as someone typing in that 3-letter word would no doubt be extremely disappointed by the search result should they be tempted to click on this page, particularly as I plan to unburden myself about my feelings earlier today and I wouldn't want to burst any young person's bubble, either if they are in the first flushes of lust with a partner or worst still, yearning for an adult life they expect will be theirs at some point (surely) based on the evidence of their immediate surroundings but mostly because of the brainwashing by society - the media.  I particularly loved music growing up, I also love to sing and so was especially attracted to female singers from Suzi Q, the gals in a very famous Swedish outfit to music in the films my mum loved to watch - Doris and certainly, like your average sponge I was searching for clues and picked up a heap of mixed messages in my formative years - mostly 1940's, 50's & 60's American mix of aspiration and social engineering from the telly and British post-Victorian peasant values from my modern nuclear family.

However I think the musical touchstones in my 'yearning days' were of their (my) time,  Amoureuse by Kiki (74) and Seventeen by Janis (75) as I was fast approaching puberty.  I wonder if I would have the same attitude to this subject if I hadn't been so profoundly effected by these songs at such a tender age?  I remember the first time I heard Amoureuse, we lived in a small block of flats and I heard it coming from an open window in the block opposite, the net curtain was blowing in the breeze and it was played a few times in a row and loud enough for me to make out the words.  I wondered if the girl has just broken up with her boyfriend or just - yearniing - I know for the first time I was.  A strong memory, within a year, was on a hot summer's day when my family were at the beach and they were driving my crazy (as usual) and I wanted to be alone. I managed to get permission to go home alone, it wasn't far, because I wanted to play my new record and fantasize about being older and in control of my life - I played Summer Love Sensation over and over again and wondered when I would get to be a bleach blond surf bum's girl, like the ones I saw frolicing (without their parents) at every beach we went to.  The members of the band singing were almost the exact physical opposites but at the time I didn't see the irony or care - it held great promise that song and I couldn't wait!!!


In fact that word has always struck me as extremely powerful, so small a container for such huge and mixed emotions.  Out of interest I typed it into Google images to see what might come up, surprise surprise it is mainly represented by illustrations of naked women, realistic and abstract - a reward for any stray reader who was expecting a little flesh!  The definition is equally strong but mixed:

Have an intense feeling of loss or lack and longing for something. A persistent, often wistful or melancholy desire; a longing. Be filled with compassion or warm feeling.  Is yearning the same as passion (I dare not type that word into Google images!!!)

Everyone talks about passion in terms of what drives them, I have noted mostly in connexion with food related businesses.  I can't honestly say I feel it towards anything - I feel as though my life has a low libido.  I feel another definition coming on, just to be sure:  the psychic energy or instinctual drive associated with sexual desire, pleasure, or creativity.; (in psychoanalysis) the instinctual drives of the id; and lustful desire or striving.  Yeah - I was pretty much right!

When looking at the Y word images, I came across Maslow's famous diagram, but when I clicked on the picture to remind myself of the actual words, it was part of a site called Work the System and his post was titled 'The Yearning', this is the crux for me:

Everyone yearns for something better yet very few follow a focused plan to get there. Truth is, the majority of people just ride along and take what comes, hoping for the best. They forgo methodical efforts to create a better life and instead, fritter away their inner passion with immediate-gratification diversions.

Of course I already know that this frustration is the root cause of my lack of self-esteem, over indulging and so not being the best that I can be.  I heard something else profound fairly recently when went along the lines of - gain satisfaction from what you do or achieve and not merely from what you put in your mouth.  I paraphrase but it is the same as the other guy's rap.  I keep getting sent such messages, an esoteric acquaintance of mine would say it was the Universe sending me help.  Perhaps she is right.

Of course the above conluding message had to be in pink!!! This is not the missive I set out to write but then they rarely are.  To bed as - to quote Scarlet "... tomorrow is another day!"

Farewell fries and garlic mayo!

Oh now, as usual I was trying to think of a title to sum up how I feel and so begin my post (at 4.17am on a Saturday morning wide awake again) and by calling it garlic mayo and not aioli, I am immediately taken back to my old stomping ground of the mid-late 1990's, coming out of a suburban nightclub with friends, staggering to the kebab shop up the road - all in various states of intoxication and myself and a great fellow non-meat eating mate, getting not a donor or burger but chips and garlic sauce...... then we would all slowly make our way up a fairly steep hill to our shared house - which sober would have taken 15 minutes but in this state, sometimes the best part of an hour.  In the process we all no doubt got up to all manner of 3am shenanigans (not least dropping half said chips) - our regular arrival time may have indeed been 4.17am!  I am sure the hangovers must have been fairly epic on occasion but I have fond memories of that nightclub, the kebab shop (that hideous neon light that made people who had looked great in the dim club lighting only ten minutes earlier transformed into discombobulated zombies - not least the gals with their grey faces, make-up sliding due south...)

I don't often eat chips and garlic sauce anymore - indeed not even garlic mayo as where I live now it is a sophisticated food obsessed city and one only consumes Aioli which it transpires, is Spanish and not of French origin and is traditionally an accompaniment to seafood - much like the British Tartare which it turns out is French and was developed to be one of the piquant (great word) sauces to accompany Steak Tartare when it was first fashionable in 19th century France but then further research shows that it was a Roman dish and a recipe appears in an Elizabethan cookbook - "Sauce for hens or Pullets to prepare them to roast...Then for the sauce take the yolks of six hard eggs minced small, put to them white-wine, or wine vinegar, butter, and the gravy the of the hen, juice of orange, pepper, salt, and if you please add thereto mustard." - Accomplist Cook, Robert May [1685] although that was actually published in the last year of Charles' II reign. 

Blimey - how did I get here in my musings!  Frankly when I woke up after a few hours fitful sleep around 4am, I still felt like I was digesting and reflected on my diet today and how it made me feel:

Breakfast 8.45am - roll oats porridge, made with water, almond milk and salt - I felt full and fairly uncomfortable until at least noon

12.45am - black coffee followed by two spinach, feta and parsley Boreks.  These come out of the oven fresh and delicious, a fairly simple Turkish street food that is very reasonable and I enjoy every time I allow myself (always two although one is probably enough!) but you have to let them cool down as they can be nuclear on the first bite out of the oven - although not in the vicinity of the Mc Apple Turnover!  So ate these around 1.45pm but had no indigestion.

2.45pm - another black coffee followed by a couple of litres of water.

5.45pm - the first of about 5 red wines. I was conscious that I had to eat to soak up the booze as I was determined not to have a full-on [Christmas/end of work for 2012] session and wake up tomorrow with a hideous hangover.... and so I ordered the first of our pub (although well cooked) junk food - you guessed it chips with aioli man, I can still taste them and they seem to be lodged in my gullet!  This was then followed by another order some 30 minutes later (there were three of us, Sonya and her friend Natasha drinking) they arrived a fair while after S had ordered them and so when ordering the next round of wines, she chased the order up and meanwhile the waitress bought not just portion two of the chippies but also had a delicious looking, fresh from the oven thin crust cheese and tomato pizza - I don't think we actually ordered it but the pub was packed and she seemed convinced it was ordered against our number and so being the greedy guts I am, accepted it - Sonya may have conceivably ordered it - so we gobbled it down very quickly and it was also delicious.   Followed by eat another basket of chips and aioli, we were doing extremely well for freebies and of course - no question - we accepted and ate them. 

So the triology of delights - red wine, chips with aioli and pizza Margarita.  Food of the Gods - what is it about these substances....... what a loaded question - when I was fifteen this would have been my choice of meal every night if I had earned any money - except the red wine would have been swapped for chocolate milkshake!

However when I extracted myself from the party, got on a train and went home (relatively sober).  All I could smell was aioli it must have repulsed the guy in the seat next to me - oh well I have sat next to worse I suppose - but when I got home I didn't carry on drinking or eating I just had pints of soda water and lime cordial over ice as I had terrific indigestion looming.  I managed to get to sleep but now here I am at almost 6am and still digesting.  I am not sure I can say goodbye to pizza forever - as it is just such a classic and I am hoping to visit Italy next year..... but I really do think that I have overdosed on garlic mayo aka aioli and fries for a good long while.  BURP....

Your Ego is writing cheques your body cannot cash!

I read this quote on Saturday whilst browsing through the movie guide of a weekend 'lifestyle' section.  Apparently it is a quote from Top Gun.... I have seen the movie a few times over the years (but not for a dogs age) and I remember it being quintessentially 80's - like shoulder pads, Filofax diaries, Perrier water and Thatcher, the very popular theme tune by Berlin (where are they now) even makes me cringe a little.  Here is a little taste of Top Gun, not Perrier! 

I love the way my mind works when I see or hear something that resonates and then that coupled with not sleeping or having a particularly vexing day, I am compelled to spin my next missive here to relieve the pressure of the endless internal dialogue.

From 4.45am musings and anxieties now to memories of Top Gun, 1986 (blimey I was 22) and a one night stand at a party, circa 1992, with a Tom Cruise looky-likely.  Didn't fancy a second night stand (probably because he lived in the back end of beyond, dullsville place - I think it was Northampton and although I like some of his films, I have never found Tommy C sexy - but that bloke's features I can recall vividly and he probably got off with a lot of gals on the strength of his boatrace, sadly though in the mists of time, his name has not been retained.  In a nutshell, it was an OK encounter at a friend of a friends mediocre party when nothing better was on offer, but he failed to - wait for it - TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.  l expect the guy probably had a motorbike and pair of Ray Ban Aviators though, no doubt influenced by aforesaid movie and a Honda 125cc and pair of replica sunnies would have been easier to acquire than a fighter jet to complete his image and satisfy the ladies of Northampton's TC fantasies.  Come to think of it, I recall liking Kelly's image in the movie and although not directly inspired by her look, my hair would have been very similar in those days - although without the truckload of volumizing mousse!   I do however recall seeing or reading the behind the scenes making of Top Gun, it struck me as much more interesting than then actual film and again, typified the 80's.

As usual I digress, the point is I am becoming much more self-aware - as the evidence is forever mounting and so even I must accept - that my ego is and has been, no doubt for quite some time (perhaps since birth), issuing more than a few duds.  So what to do.  Just looked at a Top Gun 'then and now' image file and for all his issues, out of that line up, he looks by far in the best nick.  Poor, once beautiful, Val is bloated (and by all accounts very dull during interviews), Meg went on to feel very insecure in middle-age and had a famous face lift - although I can understand the pressure she must have been under and after her performance in When Harry Met Sally we forgive her everything.  Kelly and Tim look authentic.  But then I should give them all a break - I looked a hell of a lot better in 1986 - wow I have just done the math, it was made 26 years ago and I have squeezed in one hell of a lot of living between then and now myself and we all get the face (and body) we deserve.  So despite all of TC's subsequent highs and lows, he still works and looks damned fine for his age but I suspect he really works at it and with his pile can afford a little help here and there but still.... .  Is that the secret, should I channel TC, but without the Scientology, errr, input!

Health health health sweetie

Here I am again

 ...... trying to undo the harm I have done to myself yet again.  Burning the candle at both ends and now I feel the need to atone.  The tangible hangover has gone but the guilt and self-loathing lingers on.

So I believe it is now time to work a little harder at abstinence as it might just conceivably be easier than moderation, which is just not possible.  So I am going to try to actually go through the pain and depression of dealing with this addiction to over-(self)-indulgence and see if I actually feel better about life in general if the mist lifts.  Hopefully I will be a bit smarter, fitter, thinner and not as dreadfully dull as I actually suspect I am without the social lubricant that is booze.  I have to face up to the fact that this is my essential problem but it is not an addiction to alcohol rather an addiction to feeling sorry for myself.   It has been a life long constant companion - this is the demon I must tackle as my over-indulgence in all of its forms is just self-soothing.  I can't perform the spectacular tantrums that I used to do until around the age of 6-7 any longer.  I don't remember when they actually stopped but I suspect I just stopped being cute and so no longer had any credit in the bank and it must have been a supreme shock to me going to school and realising I was not the centre of the Universe (imagine!)  So from the age of 7 or 8 I must have begun to realise that they just weren't working for me any longer and so since that time I have driven the tantrums underground - the old passive, aggressive routine.  I know what behaviours and attitudes I need to strive for in order to appear assertive and negotiate like an adult but knowing it and doing it are very different beasts.  A bit like what I know I must do be to slim and fit but like the ladies above - there is no off position on the master control switch!

The only reason I stopped smoking was because of the pain in my chest - that was a very touch emotional few weeks and I think I just have to go through that again and JUST SAY NO!

 

I really wish I could be like good old Madonna - but I am just not made that way, I really do care far too much about what people think about me.  I had trouble at work last week too but after going through the usual rainbow of emotions it all came down to me taking myself too seriously, not being able to take ANY criticism and of course the usual lack of quality communication.  Out of 100 though - and trying to be completely honest with myself, it was 25% ill considered, passive aggressive management and 75% 'how very dare you' i.e. tantrum on my part.  This is not getting me anywhere though, except that I then give myself permission to reward myself with things that stress out not only my mind but also my body.  I know there are other individuals much worse than me but so what?!  I can only ultimately do something about myself, take control of my own emotions.  Try to bloody well grow up - whatever that means.  Perhaps it really is time to go through the pain of it and document the experiment (hopefully transition) for myself and for future reference/amusement. 

I have felt pretty low for getting close to a week (decades) now and the binge drinking on the weekend just makes it all worse (except for those few self-indulgent hours with your mates) but then I don't really know what they think about me and my issues.  They probably just humour me to the same extent that I usually humour them - particularly when booze is in the equation.  It is just all too easy to put the dummy in my mouth. 

So it is Monday - the day most weak people begin a new regime - let's go

It could be you....

Had a day off work today, the sun was shining, I did a few chores and went for a walk to the local shops to get some vegetables and saw a sign for the lottery.  Tonight there is potentially a huge jackpot.  Now I did buy a ticket last week too and didn't get a single number, so why do I do it?  Why, because from the moment you take possession of the ticket to the time you check the winning numbers - you can actually allow yourself to dream large as you are IN IT TO WIN IT - you can fantasise about having enough money to lead a different life, help out your loved ones and not have to do tedious work any more. 

 

So if I win I might get what I actually think I want.   The business, the lap pool, the dogs.  Potential true freedom.

 

Come on Universe, give a girl a chance!  But then every ticket holder is chanting the same thing, but you never know.... despite the fact that the house always wins and the odds are completely stacked against me, I could just conceivably be me!  Wouldn't it be lovely.  And that is how it sucks you in. Sucker being the operative word - but I am still just a little bit excited...!

Vindication?

Had a walk with my parents on Sunday, the weather was pleasant, their dog was happy playing with a ball and sniffing butts.  We met a lot of great dogs and said hello to their owners and other park users and STOP PRESS we didn't argue about anything.  On the contrary, we agreed about a fair amount of stuff.  But the difference probably was that they wanted have a little bitch session and I was presumed to be an ally.  They were right - up to a point.

This is yet again another complicated on-going saga of relationships in my life that have altered (usually turning sour) when the dynamic is changed.   After relocating, at whatever age, you need to build a new life and hopefully forge new friendships, mates make life by turns fun when times are good and support you when the sh*t hits the many and various fans.   If they are good mates who turn into actual 'friends' they even start to understand you and genuinely accept you with all your flaws and boorish opinions - and you accept them despite theirs.  In the words of the wise ......

You have different mates for different occasions and types of extra curricular activity and even at times, joy of joys, you can introduce your mates to each other and authentic friendly networks of fun and support spring forth.   However this ideal isn't aways reached.   So my first mate turned out to be good company and we had a fair amount in common - particularly our shared love of vin rouge and going to the movies - and we were both getting to grips with starting again in a new city.  But my brother was also keen to socialise more as his marriage was a bit of a sham and they were only going through the motions, not least to protect his daughter from any separation or divorce fall out.   It was great to see more of him and to see him having fun.  However, eventually it was becoming fairly obvious (the body language was becoming a give away) that there was something going on between them and the excuses of my mate when I tried to organise certain outings, were just not adding up.  It then all came out and it transpired they had been seeing each other for six months.  Initially I was pleased that she had a boyfriend and that he had found someone to be happy with.  Then the dynamics changed and assumptions were made that it would all be instant happy families.  Well mum and dad were thrilled that the old daughter-in-law would soon be out of the picture and frankly (and pretty much as usual) viewed the change through its effect on them.   My brother also wasn't good at observing the usual social etiquette and although not deliberate, was insensitive about the changing relationships and is all went from bad to worse fairly quickly.   For whatever reason I just didn't really want to be around them during their 'honeymoon' period and so the friendship ran its course.

Fast forward a few years and the odd attempt at just getting on with it at family occasions, my brother blithely pretending nothing was wrong and my parents not understanding what the problem was 'well you used to be friends!'  There really wasn't (still isn't) much subtlety or understanding, just black and white thinking highlighting that I really did thinking differently from them.  So for quite some time I just tried not to think too much about it but that is easier said than done and there is nothing pleasant or enriching about a feud!  

At this stage there is now an uneasy kind of truce shaping up between me and the old drinking bud.  My parents though, never keep their observations to themselves and so have bulldozed in and managed to upset the lovebirds by criticising their decorating choices in their new (first jointly owned) place.  Potentially a pretty significant moment for them as a couple but as my parents have no finesse, and tact and diplomacy are in short supply, feelings are a bit hurt.  So they seemed to relish the retelling of this story to me - it sounded a bit different when I heard it from my brothers POV.  I think my Dad identified a way to bond with me over a shared dislike of the new girlfriend but it just reminds me of his less than admirable trait, carelessness of others feelings.  Frankly a cruel streak in him that was probably ingrained since his babyhood - the youngest of four then usurped but two more kids coming along when he was in his mid-teens.  But then his mother had a cruel streak too and he is just a chip off the block.  A little pop psychology but what worries me is that I know I am like them in so many ways - cruelty however is not one of my (myriad) faults, I find it abhorrent.   However there was a part of me that revelled for a moment in the fact that they might now start to realise that the feud (for want of a more accurate word) was not entirely of my making and they should have given me tiniest benefit of the doubt?

What a North & Souff....

blimey what I mouth I've got.....

I started typing this post after an incident that I clearly felt guilty/OTT about even for me but for the life of me I have no idea what that was.  Probably just the usual drunken opinionated bollocks that I talk.  Still someone has to have an opinion otherwise when out with friends, people would just stare out into the middle distance like old married couples.  Damn it is just like real life - pass me another glass of red as life is just TOO bloody short.

...change your dirty ways ....

Or Project - Me Me Me (did I say me?)

Bugger it, I have had a gut full of making other people happy and life, although full of stuff that should satisfy the average person in the Western world, just isn't.  It is time to give myself another challenge.  Just back from the gym and whilst there I decided to do my best to drop 5 kg by Christmas.  So here is my mid-August pledge:

Get me!  I saw a great photo on someone else's blog a while ago of a girl running and it read, "you are losing weight with every step", well I typed that into G images and on the first page this picture came up.  I heartily agree with the sentiment and had a quick browse of the blog it featured on.  It transpires that a very attractive, seemingly slender, 21 year old girl is obsessed with not indulging, she is lacking self-esteem and is no doubt she is under immense pressure (or that is her perception) to look like the photo shopped girls in the glossy mags.  Now I am more than double her age and like to think that I am not effected by the commercially driven tosh in the media and no longer buy magazines of this type, but of course I do want to be in control of myself again and this is not tied up with trying to compete in the sexual Olympics - which was certainly the hormone driven case from the age of 12-29.  It would have gone on further and would no doubt still be the case but I have been in a long term relationship since 29 and for many years didn't even look at other blokes (and rarely do now) and so the motivation about all related issues has fundamentally altered.  Contentment can make you fat and lazy, is that so bad? 

However you can take this too far and as late middle-age approaches, I find myself being bored by the debauched lifestyle I used to absolutely love.   Stop press - oh no, it happened again, just back from a birthday of a very good friend and it was supposed to be fun but it was just short of the mark.  I am clearly going through a transition stage and N called it, it was just a farce and bullshit - his perception but he is not used to having to please everyone and I am a master at at least attempting it.  His essential issue does speak volumes for him though.

Can I break the habit [training] of a life time?

Did enjoy being told I looked good tonight (by my friend) and this does give me a buzz, is this my new drug? 

Just discovered a running tips site and here are a few superlatives, for running and life in general!

Create your own running creed

• You must listen to your body. Run through annoyance, but not through pain
• My whole teaching in one sentence is: "Run slowly, run daily, drink moderately, and don't eat like a pig.
• I believe in using races as motivators. It's hard to keep on an exercise program if you don't have a significant goal in sight.
• Build with care - If you put down a good solid foundation, you can then build one room after another and pretty soon you have a house. After your base mileage, add hills, pace work, speed work, and finally race strategy.
• Your body is always trying to tell you where you are. Beware when you become tired and listless, when you lose interest in workouts and approach them as a chore rather than a pleasure - so just beware!
• Divide and conquer - Pick one thing each year that you need to improve, and work on that. It might be improving your diet, getting more sleep, or increasing your mileage. You can't work on everything at once
• Get over it - If you have a bad workout or run a bad race, allow yourself exactly 1 hour to stew about it--then move on

PUT THE TIGER IN THE CAT

Lasciviousness - isn't all it is cracked up to be...

Lascivious = this word conjures up images of a Roman 'Bacchanalian' orgy. 

Dictionary definition =

Adj.

1.

lascivious - driven by lust; preoccupied with or exhibiting lustful desires; "libidinous orgies" feeling morbid sexual desire or a propensity to lewdness

Well that is the keyword to describe the weekend I have just had (and not in a good way!)  The picture above pretty much sums it up but I am not sure if it depicts me - and my reaction - or my lascivious companion for the trip?

On paper it should have been so enjoyable - a couple of mates away for a mini-break, a sports car (I have just realised it could have been a T&L situation) a girly location (i.e. a spa town) money in our pockets, nice countryside, comfortable accommodations (i.e. two bedrooms and two bathrooms).  It should all add up to bliss.  But instead of this, it was more like this and --> on reflection, I realise that I am Jack Lemmon/Tony Randell and not Walter Matthau/Jack Klugman.  But of course from my prospective I am the superior being.  Well that is harsh, we just don't have enough in common to sustain a weekend together and this is the first time we have done it and I have realised it with such brute a forcini.  Perhaps she couldn't wait to get rid of me too, because I had been a boring, judgemental, stick-in-the-mud but I even wonder if she even has that much sensitivity?  When she kept suggesting other outings and locations for our next weekend away, I found myself mentally sticking a fork in my leg and kept on smiling (whilst being non-committal - see I am learning from my time spent with men!)

The timing of this weekend away was all about her, her long term lover was leaving for a very special holiday with his wife and so she wanted to fill her time and not be alone in her apartment - although whilst we were away he was in mid-air, perhaps business class but nonetheless going long-haul in a confided space, squirming in his seat, feeling pressure to converse with his partner and downing food & drink to alleviate the boredom, then we would have had to endure the inevitable indigestion and flatulence - not that dissimilar from my experience with his mistress!

Yet again it makes me think that I should have a long rest from, or at least a cut back on, time spent with people that although I like, I accommodate much more than they ever seek to accommodate me!  I felt uncomfortable by a neediness, an eagerness to please and yet total selfishness (that combination seems improbable but it actually happened) and I found myself being not only incredibly annoyed but more than that, palpably bored.  Although I felt bad, I was equally repulsed.  I am using very emotional and dramatic vocab but from Saturday morning to Sunday afternoon, that feeling just intensified with every moment that passed! 

An expensive and tedious trip.  Not even the indulgence in food and drink did what it ordinarily does - it didn't really dull my senses! I can't explain my violent reaction except that my companion talked endlessly about the woes in her life, the fact that she was overweight - like it was an unfair affliction visited upon her, but the lust for Krispy Kremes didn't count - that coloured everything in her life. She mused upon this whilst eating extremely fast, her mouth open, slightly slathering.  Then after a hefty brunch or dinner, would take many minutes to contemplate - pouring over the menu and eyeing other diner's sweet treats - the first (and then second) dessert of the day whilst musing on diets ARRRRGH.

Some clever person once said you always hate the thing you are, my hedonistic mate gorged herself but declared she was never really happy with her fare, found a reason to complain about everything from the drive to the accommodation to the service to the food etc.  On the one hand her attitude is at times extreme and on a par with the most precious Diva but no doubt I see, and don't like, our similar love of greed and measure my own behaviour against it and found myself wanting.  God knows I have my vices but faced with this endless conflicting rap - I really strive to acknowledge my hypocrisy and the fact that us women are a mass of contradictions.  I did listen attentively and attempted to be supportive.  I am not sure I succeeded but I genuinely hope I did and at least one of us enjoyed the weekend.

Despite the food, drink, laziness, pleasant walks (!) chats and mooches around arts & crafts shops etcetc, it didn't work for me.  It was a bit like my New York experience.  I want to go back but just not with the same person.  Chalk n cheese works in small does BUT....

Dry July (it could be a very long month)

Well it is 4th July - Happy Independence day to America

It is also 4 day of 31 during which time I will try to attempt ......

I was just flicking through my marketing and internet sales email address and came across this article in the Mindfood magazine newsletter, under the title of Wellbeing.... so I clicked onto it in the hope it would give me some great support.   And I quote -

5 reasons to get behind Dry July

Contemplating whether to sign up to Dry July this month?  Here are five reasons why you should:

1.  Dry July is a month dedicated to giving up alcohol, in order to raise money towards creating better environments and support networks for adult cancer patients and their families.

My pledge/progress: charity in July so far - $5 in the Guide Dog training for the blind, $5 for a Big-Issue – Target charity payments, minimum $100 by end of July.

As tough a challenge as it may sound to some, giving up alcohol has a number of health and lifestyle benefits. Below, we’ve listed our top five reasons for getting behind Dry July this year:

2. The health benefits

The most obvious reason for giving up alcohol is of course, the benefits to your health; alcohol, among other things, is a toxin, digested immediately by the liver. Excessive alcohol consumption has also long been linked to numerous long-term health problems, like heart disease, high blood pressure, stroke, liver disease, and even cancer. Not to mention it is a drug, and, like others, poses strong addictive qualities that can affect your life quality. 

My pledge/progress: so far so good, including a trip to the pub last night, stuck to soda water & lime cordial. But I did have squid & chips for dinner and a few squares of dark chocolate when I got home... must try harder not to compensate.  Also on the next grocery shopping trip, start to really focus on 'clean' food and whilst I cannot bear to waste anything (no pun intended) I will feel compelled to use up any 'bad' foods in the house but not replace them.  Also, I want to start really researching 'raw' food and start to contemplate a regime for reducing sugar.

3. The benefits to your waistline

The body has no storage capacity for alcohol like it does for carbohydrates and fats, so it must be digested and processed immediately by the liver. Because it is a poison, the body must metabolise it as quickly as possible. While your liver is metabolising the glass of wine you’ve just consumed, it is unable to process any fats, carbohydrates or protein. As a direct result of this, alcohol consumption can also lead to a false sense of hunger, and your body will crave fatty foods, to soak up the booze. All these factors ultimately lead to weight gain. Giving it up for a month is a surefire way to shed a few quick kilos.

My pledge/progress: Plan to go the gym 3 times this week and take longwalks in between - goal - lose at least 2 (hopefully 3) kilos this month.  At last measure I was 79.5k

4.  The beauty benefits

Waking up and facing the mirror after big night, is not often a pretty sight. You will likely appear tired, puffy-faced, and be sporting some dark bags under your eyes. Regular drinking is one of the fastest ways to age your skin, so giving your pores and peepers a breather for 31 days is the best facial you could invest in.

My pledge/progress: Concentrate on my cleansing routine, research and purchase a good serum from the money I save from buying plonk.  I have another facial booked for an end-of-month treat. 

5..The benefits to your wallet

The average person will spend $40 a week on booze, and that’s not taking into account, the price of transport and cab fares to get home safely after a night out, and the food that often goes hand-in-hand with that beer or glass of wine. Cutting out alcohol for a month will probably save you around $200 – money you can spend on something you wouldn’t normally indulge in.
My pledge/progress: a quick calculation - when I drink in the pub I probably spend on average $35 per night on booze.  Then have on average 3 bottles per week so another $40.  Now I don't drink out in pubs every week any more but I certainly used to, so I will realise a potential saving of $300 this month if I have NO BOOZE.  Use that additional income to put towards charity donations and to finance my facial/massage ($99) - looking forward to that..!

Battle of wills

My pledge/progress: really try hard to not booze for the duration of July.  I managed Feb Fast this year and I did say I would also try to get through Dry July and Sober October but if I am completely honest with myself, I am secretly already planning to have a bottle on Saturday night if himself goes away for the weekend and I can have a little binge treat whilst watching a few of my favourite DVDs.  Very poor.

The Secret is .......

I have just finished reading probably the best novel I have ever read.  It took me quite a while as I only read in bed and usually my eyes are only capable of only reading 3/4 pages but last night as it came to a gripping conclusion, I read for over an hour.  I also did not see the awful truth coming about the letter recipiant, Franklin and at the point I realised, my heart sank and I really felt upset.  A very powerful story, outstanding writing and it the captures the experience my generation.  The girl called Lionel.

However half way through the book, I read a few paragraphs that really startled me and hit a nerve.  I had to go back and read it several times - a bit like a hair-shirt.  It helped me crystalise my own thoughts about modern life that I could never artculate in such a concise way.  I have put it these paragraphs here just to remind me of not only these thought-provoking sentances and the nub of the arguement (which I agree with wholeheartedly) but also to remind me to read more of her work.
                                                  ___________________

Page 172

In the end, that's what Kevin has never forgiven us.  He may not resent that we tied to impose a curtain between himself and the adult terrors lucking behind it.  But he does powerfully resent that we led him down the garden path – that we enticed him with the prospect of the exotic.

(Hadn’t I myself nourished the fantasy that I would eventually land in a country that was somewhere else?) When we shrouded our grown-up mysteries for which Kevin was too young, we implicitly promised him that when the time came, the curtain would pull back to reveal – what?  Like the ambiguous emotional university that I imagined awaited me on the other side of childbirth, it’s doubtful that Kevin had formed a vivid picture of whatever we had withheld from him.  But the one thing he could not have imagined in that we were withholding nothing.  That there was nothing on the other side of our silly rules, nothing.

The truth is, the vanity of protective parents that I cited to the court goes beyond look at us we’re such responsible guardians.  Our prohibitions also bulwark our self-importance.  They fortify the construct that we adults are all initiates.  By conceit, we have earned access to an unwritten Talmud whose soul-shattering content we are sworn to conceal from “innocents” for their own good.  By pandering to this myth of their naïf, we service our own legend.  Presumably we have looked ‘the horror’ in the face, like staring into the naked eye of the sun, blistering into turbulent, corrupted creatures, enigmas even to ourselves.  Gross with revelation, we would turn back the clock if we could, but there is no unknowing of this awful canon, no return to the blissfully insipid world of childhood, no choice but to shoulder this weighty black sagacity, whose finest purpose is to shelter our air-headed midgets from a glimpse of the abyss.  The sacrifice is flatteringly tragic.

The last thing we want to admit is that the forbidden fruit on which we have been gnawing since reaching the magic-age of twenty-one is the same mealy Golden Delicious that we stuff into our children’s lunch boxes.  The last thing we want to admit is that the bickering of the playground perfectly presages the machinations of the boardroom, that our social hierarchies are merely an extension of who got picked first for the kickball team, and that grown-ups still get divided into bullies and fatties and crybabies.  What’s a kid to find out?

Presumably we lord over them an exclusive deed to sex, but the pretense flies so fantastically in the face of fact that it must result from some conspiratorial group amnesia. To this day, some of my most intense sexual memories date back to before I was ten, as I have confided to you under the sheets in better days.  No they, have sex too.  In truth, we are bigger, greedier versions of the same eating, shitting, rutting ruck, hell-bent on disguising from somebody, if only from a three-year-old, that pretty much all we do is eat and shit and rut. The secret is that there is NO secret.  That is what we really wish to keep from our kids, and its suppression is the true collusion of adulthood, the pact we make, the Talmud we protect.

Sure, by the time he was fourteen we had given up on trying to control the videos he watched, the hours he kept, what little he read.  But watching those stupid films and logging onto those stupid websites, swigging that stupid hooch and sucking those stupid butts and fucking those stupid schoolgirls, Kevin must have felt to fiercely cheated.  And on ‘Thursday’ I bet he still felt cheated.
                                                           ___________________

It reminds me of a memory I had.  I was around 6 or 7 and I loved drawing - having progressed from 4 years of colouring-in.  I drew a picture of myself looking like your typical 'princess' and wrote at the bottom, "Me at 21".   The people that surround you and the media from the age of zero lead you to believe anything is possible.  I am starting to realise that this is just not true.

Pay-Day Pinks...

I was sitting in the sauna earlier today and realised that I have actually have my best job ever - it was quite an epiphany - particularly as I am not exactly stimulated the majority of the time, but then ultimately how much does that really matter? Perhaps I should stop trying to get so much from my job, stop moaning and just enjoy the fact that I am so lucky when so many are not.  I will give a bit more to charity this week as it really isn't fair.

I realised that I am having not the pay-day blues but rather the PAY-DAY PINKS 

I have just had some fun looking a Google images under the keyword pink, as you would expect, the great gal singer featured largely (I am not all that au fait with her back catalogue but she strikes me as something different from the run of the mill pretty girl pop singer and the first time I heard Family Portrait, I was struck but how intelligent the lyrics were and what a magnificent voice).

Anyway back to my PINK celebration........ boy, do I fancy a cupcake with pink icing now...!

HAPPY FRIDAY

Over the hump .......

Isn't it glorious, almost as good a feeling as 5.30pm on any given Friday - except every fortnight Friday is the best as it is also payday.  So I am well 'over the hump' - it is currently 4.45pm on a Wednesday of a typical working week and it is payday week to boot. 

Apparently 'hump day' is the day when nothing can go wrong accordingly to the Urban Dictionary.  Well I am not convinced about that but today has been pretty chilled so far.  In at 10.15am, worked until 12noon.  Went to gym, got back at work at 2.30(ish)pm, had lunch and did some more work.  Now doing personal chores whilst thinking about this entry. 

I was pleased with the work-out today, weighed in at 79.50kg, still a fat-lass but it is going down and haven't had any booze since Sunday - not much of a boast but boy, did I fancy a glass of red at the pub last night, resisted though.  I have also decided to make other small in-roads by trying not to have any hot chocolates on the days when I go to the gym.  Again not exactly a tough diet regime but I guess it all helps a bit.

I will also go for a walk for an hour when I get home so I am already look forward to that, just don't want to disappear from work too early!!

When I look at this handsome chap in the picture, two things come to mind - people in my past 'got the hump' pronounced '..ump' which always amused me as I never really understood it - basically upset, got the pip, cheesed-off - but why a hump?

Or on a brighter note, a fantastic experience on holiday when I got on one of these magnificant beasts with himself, getting on the camel and then it standing up was a thrill ride with a difference and it was nice to ride the camel tandem style.  I assume I was at the front but I can't really recall.  I do though recall having a fantastic time and a new found respect for camels - it was a great ride.  The place itself was magical and another standout memory was the sunset the first night we were there.  Photos we took did it no justice but standing there with a glass of red in hand in that extraordinary light was a wonderful feeling.

That reminds me, I must organise our next mini-break.  We had a day off together last Friday and did the hot springs and that was a lovely time too.  Not a payday though, still you can't have it all.....!

JUST ANOTHER MANIC MONDAY (!!!)

On a grey & wet Monday most people are feeling pretty pissed off with having to get out of their warm bed, join the rat race and go to work and I am just feeling indifferent.  I know I have to go to the office and I expect to do a few bits and pieces but really showing up is the only essential thing to do.  I shouldn’t be too complacent as my experience today isn’t completely typical but it is common.   

Anyway I feel I have done my time.  In other jobs I have worked very long hours, had to deal with a lot of stressful situations due to the pressure of workload or just having to deal with very difficult characters (and regularly a combination of both) done loads of colleagues favours and rarely have I been acknowledged, given any credit for the efficiency and effectiveness or sometimes even thanked.  For the most part I have gone over and above the basic job description requirements – but then in many of the jobs I have done, so many of my achievements are difficult to quantify as they are ‘soft skill’ gains.

 

But here I am on Monday 4th June 2012, tucked away from the prying eyes of those that ‘manage’ the organization that I am employed by.  So now I am in a job where I am (like one or two other jobs over my so called career) here on a ‘just in case’ basis.   It used to concern me, I felt like I was treading water and at the extreme, I was very bored, frustrated and in the ‘honey trap’ of a comfortable well paid but mediocre job.   These jobs used to leave me with too much time to think about all the things I really wanted to achieve and as though I was not fulfilling my potential but then the only person encouraging me was me – my internal voices.    The little angel on one shoulder saying “… why are you settling for this, with effort, application and focus you could progress and do a job that is really useful, meaningful, would increase your remuneration, status, power and enjoyment in your working life because you get a lot of your self-esteem from working and being seen to do a great job.  So why are you still in this job when you are capable of achieving so much more”?

The little devil says “… milk it, what have these people done for you, because of passive/aggressive management and a little dust under the carpet sweeping, you have been insulted by being offered this role and nothing else, so keep under the radar, take the money and smile sweetly.  Carry on getting your protected full-time salary and benefits and make your own part-time job by coming in late and where possible going early, take strategic ‘swing the lead’ days and duvet days.  A lot of other people do it so if you don’t you are just a mug.  Keep your trap shut and make the most of it”

So my day today - woke up at 7.45am and got out of bed before ‘himself’, pottered about and made breakfast, including feeding the cat and the local birds.  Kissed ‘himself’ goodbye for the day and left the house around 9.30am and the train was thankfully only half full, so had a comfy ride in.  Pleasant (but chilly) 15 minute walk to work and in by 10.20am.  Did a few emails (an interaction with one report and checked on another report who has an office close by, I could see she wasn’t in) and then left for the gym at 11.20am. 

In the gym and on the first piece of cardio equipment by 11.40am, did the weights, stretching, swim, sauna and shower and was back at work by 2pm.  Heated up my delicious stir-fry of mushroom vegetable & green bean noodle thing, had some nuts and read my 4 or 5 emails that arrived during my absence.  Nothing urgent and only necessitated one interaction with a colleague and not a report.    

So having done my personal admin and bored by 3.15pm so despite the rain, went for a long walk around the shops and did my chores and got a small hot chocolate and came back on PT so avoid the murk.  Back in the office at 4.30pm and luckily saw another report in the corridor, so face clocked.  Result.  Now typing this and listening to my favourite radio show in my cute little office and counting down to payday at the end of the week.

I worry that from a management point of view this cannot be sustainable but that is for them to deal with I guess.  I do have my email alerts on so if anyone did need me or if someone knocked on my door with a request I would give it my full attention but if they don’t then my days of going looking for work have come to an end.  I am an angel occasionally but today they devil has the upper hand….!

So the mantra at the moment is on the days that I have to do the main part of my job I will be front and centre, but on the days that are a little more, let’s say undefined…. I will try to get to the gym at least 3 work days per week as well as get as much fresh air and exercise as can be reasonably be achieved to make the 7.25 hours a day as tolerable as possible.   I have plenty of flab to tackle – this is not a picture of personal flab but mine sure looks similar and want to look more like this within six months. 

To pinch only an inch is my personal KPI, currently I am pinching a yard…

Now there’s a mission statement !!!