Oh, to be a person without wild mood swings.
The upswings are fine. They make being friendly and sociable much easier. The downswings are not fine. I manage to hide them now. I get up and go to work and 99.99% of the time, I don't leave early. I do my grocery shopping. I talk to people. I do not, usually, burst into tears although sometimes I will get teary-eyed.
It's bad enough when it's just biochemical. When it's stupid, stupid stuff that I should know better about that either energizes me or drop-kicks me, I can add "you bloody moron, how old are you?" to the joys of dejection.
I am on a downswing. It will end. But it might end because something stupid will cheer me up. And I will know it's stupid -- and dangerous, because it's ephemeral and will subsequently let me down -- but I will run with it anyway, just for the relief of feeling my spirits soaring and a tingling happiness, just for a little while.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sigh
I wore colors for you. And you didn't even notice.
*~*~*~*~*~*
And while I'm at it: Messages are sent in order to be answered. If you don't answer them, you are sending a message anyway. Make sure that's what you mean to do.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Damnit.
That is all.
*~*~*~*~*~*
And while I'm at it: Messages are sent in order to be answered. If you don't answer them, you are sending a message anyway. Make sure that's what you mean to do.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Damnit.
That is all.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Stop me, damnit
I've been reading blogs and seeing some pictures from Sock Summit, and some folks' cute short haircuts are calling to me.
I know my hair itself looks cute short -- it's curly and does these neat marcel waves across the back of my head. Also, it dries much faster than my current to-the-base-of-my-shoulder-blades mop of auburn wildness.
But I am a big person, and on me, a head with a short cap of curls looks like a cherry on top of a mountain of ice cream. (Food metaphor. How apropos.) Also, I like twisting my hair up into a semi-French twist and feeling all of it anchored, firmly -- unlike when short curls are just bobbing about. And there's the versatility of wearing it up, tumbling down my back or else in a ponytail.
I have to remind myself I don't look like a chic perky pixie with short hair, because the cuteness is getting to me -- as is the "hmm, no heavy hot hair" -- even though I know if I cut if off I'd regret it, especially since I hate going and getting my hair cut. I always look like crap in the mirrors, I have to chat, and I have to pay them! The only part I really like is getting the back of my neck shaved; that feels good.
I don't want to look like an aging hippie with long hair, but since it's thick, curly, and has no grey, and since I always wear makeup, that's probably an unfounded fear. (Aging hippies are fine people. I just don't fancy the look.)
I know my hair itself looks cute short -- it's curly and does these neat marcel waves across the back of my head. Also, it dries much faster than my current to-the-base-of-my-shoulder-blades mop of auburn wildness.
But I am a big person, and on me, a head with a short cap of curls looks like a cherry on top of a mountain of ice cream. (Food metaphor. How apropos.) Also, I like twisting my hair up into a semi-French twist and feeling all of it anchored, firmly -- unlike when short curls are just bobbing about. And there's the versatility of wearing it up, tumbling down my back or else in a ponytail.
I have to remind myself I don't look like a chic perky pixie with short hair, because the cuteness is getting to me -- as is the "hmm, no heavy hot hair" -- even though I know if I cut if off I'd regret it, especially since I hate going and getting my hair cut. I always look like crap in the mirrors, I have to chat, and I have to pay them! The only part I really like is getting the back of my neck shaved; that feels good.
I don't want to look like an aging hippie with long hair, but since it's thick, curly, and has no grey, and since I always wear makeup, that's probably an unfounded fear. (Aging hippies are fine people. I just don't fancy the look.)
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Complete Inertia!
I haz it.
It's beautiful and sunny out. I have
a. Vacuumed
b. Put some dishes away
c. Had toast and tea
d. Called my aunt
It's almost noon and I'm in my jammies still! Off to have tea with C at 2, but I should be doing so many things.
I finally did see a life coach last week. He was pretty tough love about a lot of things (my weight, my shyness, my procrastination), but that's good, mostly. The fact that he was also funny, and thought my intelligence and sense of humor were immediately apparent, was more pleasant! I have a to-do list, some of which I just can't blog about.
I've done much of it. Not all of it.
One thing he said is that whether I ever publish or not, I need to write as part of my creative life. Since I handed him extensive answers to the long questionnaire he requires, he got a pretty good sampling of my writing. I am having a followup meeting with him, and he told me he wanted an outline of the novel that has been in my head for a year or so. He actually made me stand up and pitch it to him... the amazing thing is, I did it. And I came home and by the end of the weekend had the outline done.
I was telling my sister I kind of have to go on autopilot and not think, "This idea is dumb. That idea will never work. I could never do X, Y, or Z because of A, B, and C." If I do that, I will be totally paralyzed, and paralysis is what has gotten me to my age and state in life.
However, the inertia is settling in. It's not the paralysis of terror or pessimism or overthinking, or the retreating to the "my life is miserable but at the moment it's not terrifying so I will just go back to the devil I know" sort of thing. It's just... laziness.
This is when it's not good to live alone. If someone was here to nudge me, that would help. Also, being able to split daily life chores helps with fatigue. OTOH, there are people with kids who work more than 40 hours a week and who get a lot done, so I should STFU, no?
And being married didn't help too much with that, anyway.
*~*~*
This week I totally faked a felted purse I may give as a Christmas gift, if it felts well. I had no pattern, just cast on enough worsted weight to get around a 24" circ (size 10, which I really only use for felting projects), and then after awhile bound off half the stitches and knit flat for a flap. Winged a buttonhole (bound off six stitches, cast them back on in the next row), am now making a strap. I ixnayed I-cord and the kind of strap I recently used on my own felted tote, since it was too wide. I'm just going with a strip of garter stitch since it will felt anyway. And if the whole thing turns out to be crap, well, I will chuck it... only three skeins of stash yarn and a week. It's not like ruining a sweater!
Next up is a hopefully simple-enough lace scarf for mememememe in what KnitPicks calls hyacinth but I call plain old dark purple.
And meanwhile I'm making dishcloths -- I like the way the mercerized cotton feels against the KP Harmonies, which are my all-time flat-out madly-in-love favoritest favorite needles ever. (Um, I like them.) They're useful, and I can probably get some neutral colors and make washcloths in the same patterns to wrap up with soap for small gifts. It's a good way to just practice stitch patterns, as well.
*~*~*
I don't know why, but I often have an image in my head from my freshman year of college. It was the fall of 1985 and I was going to a very small college nearby. I was in the basement of the library; there were carrels against the far wall, with windows above them that looked out onto the main road into the tiny campus and across to the trees beyond, and then down the hill. I was writing a paper on Sylvia Plath, and I wanted to work on campus for awhile. I remember walking down one of the stacks toward a carrel, with the light filtering in, and putting my books and whatnot down.
I don't know if I felt it then, but ever since, on the frequent occasions when that moment crosses my mind, I have such a feeling of peace and happiness and purpose. I had that feeling in other moments throughout college, but this one sticks with me for some reason; maybe because it was the first. I have never felt this way in post-academic life.
It's beautiful and sunny out. I have
a. Vacuumed
b. Put some dishes away
c. Had toast and tea
d. Called my aunt
It's almost noon and I'm in my jammies still! Off to have tea with C at 2, but I should be doing so many things.
I finally did see a life coach last week. He was pretty tough love about a lot of things (my weight, my shyness, my procrastination), but that's good, mostly. The fact that he was also funny, and thought my intelligence and sense of humor were immediately apparent, was more pleasant! I have a to-do list, some of which I just can't blog about.
I've done much of it. Not all of it.
One thing he said is that whether I ever publish or not, I need to write as part of my creative life. Since I handed him extensive answers to the long questionnaire he requires, he got a pretty good sampling of my writing. I am having a followup meeting with him, and he told me he wanted an outline of the novel that has been in my head for a year or so. He actually made me stand up and pitch it to him... the amazing thing is, I did it. And I came home and by the end of the weekend had the outline done.
I was telling my sister I kind of have to go on autopilot and not think, "This idea is dumb. That idea will never work. I could never do X, Y, or Z because of A, B, and C." If I do that, I will be totally paralyzed, and paralysis is what has gotten me to my age and state in life.
However, the inertia is settling in. It's not the paralysis of terror or pessimism or overthinking, or the retreating to the "my life is miserable but at the moment it's not terrifying so I will just go back to the devil I know" sort of thing. It's just... laziness.
This is when it's not good to live alone. If someone was here to nudge me, that would help. Also, being able to split daily life chores helps with fatigue. OTOH, there are people with kids who work more than 40 hours a week and who get a lot done, so I should STFU, no?
And being married didn't help too much with that, anyway.
*~*~*
This week I totally faked a felted purse I may give as a Christmas gift, if it felts well. I had no pattern, just cast on enough worsted weight to get around a 24" circ (size 10, which I really only use for felting projects), and then after awhile bound off half the stitches and knit flat for a flap. Winged a buttonhole (bound off six stitches, cast them back on in the next row), am now making a strap. I ixnayed I-cord and the kind of strap I recently used on my own felted tote, since it was too wide. I'm just going with a strip of garter stitch since it will felt anyway. And if the whole thing turns out to be crap, well, I will chuck it... only three skeins of stash yarn and a week. It's not like ruining a sweater!
Next up is a hopefully simple-enough lace scarf for mememememe in what KnitPicks calls hyacinth but I call plain old dark purple.
And meanwhile I'm making dishcloths -- I like the way the mercerized cotton feels against the KP Harmonies, which are my all-time flat-out madly-in-love favoritest favorite needles ever. (Um, I like them.) They're useful, and I can probably get some neutral colors and make washcloths in the same patterns to wrap up with soap for small gifts. It's a good way to just practice stitch patterns, as well.
*~*~*
I don't know why, but I often have an image in my head from my freshman year of college. It was the fall of 1985 and I was going to a very small college nearby. I was in the basement of the library; there were carrels against the far wall, with windows above them that looked out onto the main road into the tiny campus and across to the trees beyond, and then down the hill. I was writing a paper on Sylvia Plath, and I wanted to work on campus for awhile. I remember walking down one of the stacks toward a carrel, with the light filtering in, and putting my books and whatnot down.
I don't know if I felt it then, but ever since, on the frequent occasions when that moment crosses my mind, I have such a feeling of peace and happiness and purpose. I had that feeling in other moments throughout college, but this one sticks with me for some reason; maybe because it was the first. I have never felt this way in post-academic life.
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