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....