I am loving this creativity kick I’ve been on since the ‘Wrimo ended (and I won; did I mention that I won?). I don’t know what happened, but it’s like all the idea-churning, all that forced creation of November was creating pent-up ideas for all the non-novelling areas of my life (of which there are many, as I am a craftsy wannabe), and now they’re all just overflowing everywhere. It is awesome. I haven’t felt so inspired to Do Stuff in forever.
Naturally, however, this newfound spirit of Go! does not apply to my blogging. No, no. For here, I contain myself to half-assedly wrapping up the year doing that oh-so-reliable “first sentence of the first post of each month” thing so popular among bloggerly slackers everywhere.
Folks, I may be a non-brown-thumb — I may even venture so far as to say that my thumb, on occasion, even shows tinges of green — but I officially can not raise cacti or succulents.
I’m listening to new music again.
Feeling kind of all over the place tonight, so I’ll try to summarize with the thoughts flitting through my head recently.
New theory about why I can’t breathe.
So, I’ve now officially had a nervous breakdown.
After such a gap, you’d think I’d have some good stories to tell, or at least a fairly lengthy narrative of mundane living, or the first dragonboat race of the season at least, but no; really all I got is a bunch of fairly random thoughts that have been floating through my head for the past week or so.
Hitherto unknown fact about yours truly: I make the Best Damned Banana Bread In The World.
August (minor cheating)
Well holy cats has it ever been awhile. In the meantime my parents have sold the apartment, moved to a new house, yours truly has moved to the frozen north with The Boy, and more recently, just come back from a west coast roadtrip, consisting of flying out to Vancouver, driving down to San Francisco (with major detours in Oregon, including a stop at a garlic festival and a sketchy DQ south of Coos Bay) and then back up again, before flying home, to help my parents unpack, before finally getting back here. Where shit is still sitting around in boxes (seriously; like my mouse? no idea where it is) since I was only here 3 days before we left.
Well, I got my ducks in a pile and lo, it is growing.
Doing the Run For The Cure, as expected, has motivated me to overhaul my sorry carcass and get it into shape so that next spring, come the Paddling season, I will not only be an acceptable paddler, I will be Fierce And Mighty Like The Dragon.
Well, the unimaginable has happened: I’ve started to take my own writing (too) seriously.
And there you have it. It’s pretty apparent that the beginning of the year was none too smooth for yours truly, but things seemed to pick up over the summer and have really been on a general kind of upswing since then. I’m quite happy about it all really, and am hoping, in a not particularly quiet fashion, that this trend holds on, at least till Chinese new year. I don’t know why that extra 3 weeks would make a difference, but, you know.
In the interest of honesty, I feel the need to document that after a little research, and a lot of pressuring by their salesperson, I signed up for membership at (I think) Canada’s largest chain of gyms. A week later, I cancelled it. (This caused me far more mental grief than I even want to admit.) The weird part is, despite the disgruntled salesman’s disparaging remarks (breezily: “It’s too bad; I really wanted to help you with your fitness goals. I guess I hope you find some other way of reaching them…”) I totally believe that I have a better chance of achieving what I want outside of Goodlife’s scary poster-plastered walls.
I am not a gym person; the thought of going in there, even if it’s just to take one of those classes (which were a big selling point for me) fills me with dread. I hate crowds, and I’m reluctant even to do the “gym buddy” thing because going somewhere to sweat and strain and work hard at changing your body? Is not something I want to do in the company of others, much less anyone I know. (All you people who talk about how good it is for your motivation to have a buddy? Maybe. Not me.)
But I do go on my own. I love our building’s tiny usually-empty gym. I love dance classes, and ultimate, and paddling, skating, anything that’s fun. So I’m not worried that I won’t get there, that not having that laminated yellow card will doom me to failure in terms of my own goals. Now, not only am I free to do things the fun way, but I am also armed with that precious motivational friend of mine: spite. So take that, you free-weights-disdaining neo-hippie.
Ahem. In other, slightly more constructive news, it is the time of year during which I tack on ridiculous goals for myself for the next year. Aside from the fitness ones (which range from reasonable to ludicrous), I’ve actually only got two so far for next year. I feel I should be making some “career”-centric ones but, as usual, I don’t really know how. Something to talk with my parents about over Christmas, I suppose.
Anyhow, goals thus far:
1 – Take 150 pictures (possible incentive: buy myself a Flickr upgrade?)
2 – Scrapbook 20 pages (this one is quite ambitious, for those unfamiliar with the scrapping world and/or my laziness)
Other than that, things are fairly stable here; quiet, white, easing into cold. Thoughts from the rest of the world?