Checking in: Day Four

The first four days of my happiness project have been... mixed to be honest. I'm finding it rather hard to stick to all my resolutions, but I guess if they were easy they wouldn't be resolutions. Or would they? (quickly looks up Dictionary.com) No, they probably wouldn't.

Making my bed every day has definitely been a small win that makes me mentally high five myself, and I'm getting better at the 'one minute rule' and I make sure to do at least one thing from my "makes me happy" list every day. Although actually I get a tick for everything I do, which I love! I love ticks! And it's great because I''ve got two guaranteed ticks every day: Read a chapter before bed - check! Handstand against a wall: check!*

Other resolutions though I'm finding a little trickier to stick to. I think it's all linked to the lack of sleep. I'm finding it really hard to go to bed every night at 9.30, even though I love sleep. Lately I've also been waking up every morning at 3 am. Every morning. 3 am. My naturopath friend made me a sleep tincture which tastes leg-shakingly and stampingly disgusting, but now I only wake up at 5 am. Not ideal, but so much better. However, I have a significant sleep-deficit and when over tired I tend to get over excited and happy and then sad but definitely not sleepy. Except after lunch at work when all I want is to curl up under my desk for a nap. But I'm meant to be an adult now and somehow I don't think naps are traditionally adult-y..

I also hurt my back which hasn't been conducive to sleeping. Or lifting my arms. Or breathing too deeply. I did it at a free booty shaking class they give at my pole studio. I've been doing pole classes for a couple of months now and I absolutely adore them! They're so much fun and ever so good for you! And the bruises are proud badges of honour/battle scars. The booty shaking is purely for fun but is also very good exercise. I did something to my back last Friday though, which I ignored. I went to pole on Monday night and by the end of the hour I could barely move, but I ignored it again and went to a two hour session on Wednesday night. That's when it started hurting me to breathe. Unfortunately, I said to myself, breathing is something you probably want to do, so today I finally went to the physio.

I always wait till the last minute to visit doctors and other health care professionals. They're busy people. And I'm probably fine. All in my bed an what not. Just wasting their valuable time in which they could be out saving peoples' lives and doing other super doctorly things (such as stocking up on lollipops and maybe eavesdropping through walls on behalf of the Crown with their stethoscopes). I also don't like people touching my feet, because feet are gross, and I usually go to physios for my feet. And the physios are usually good looking young men. And I almost always forget to shave before going. All in all, it's just awkward. But I sucked it up today and got a lovely woman and she didn't have to touch my feet once! She put on this amazing kinesitape stuff and I've now got a little warm strap on my back! I don't know how it works or what it does, but, I'm going to assume now and forever more that it is magic. Unfortunately I've been banned from pole for a week (I may have pretended it was pole and not booty shaking that got me in this mess. I know I should hold my head high for my hobbies but somehow booty shaking seems less acceptable than pole dancing. Maybe because the word 'booty' is in the title. Although, for all anyone knows it's actually a pirate booty shaking class! I actually spend an hour every Friday shaking treasure chests and yelling "YARRRRRRRRRR!" The advanced classes wear eye patches and peg legs. I think I feel a fitness craze coming on...).

Hopefully with my magic strip tonight I'll sleep like a teenager (babies, as far as I've heard, don't actually sleep all that well so that's a silly saying to my mind) and so from tomorrow all my resolutions will be easier to stick to. In the mean time the physio hasn't mentioned anything about handstands against the wall, and a girl needs her ticks!

*I'm quite slow when it comes to some things and while, apparently, every other kid everywhere else spent hours doing handstands against walls, I have only very recently learned how in my pole class. It's amazing what a quick rush of blood to the head can do for one's happiness and self-esteem, not to mention one's rosy cheeks!

My Happiness Project

Tomorrow is the first day of spring, a perfect time to start my own happiness project! I recently read Gretchen Rubin's book of her efforts to make herself happier over the course of a year and it has inspired me to try it too.

She had resolutions for each month focusing on different aspects of her life, and I'll be doing the same. I'll probably be babbling about it all on here too. I think she may have planned out each month before she started but I'm not very good at planning so thought I'd wing it, sort of. Much like Gretchen I'll begin my Project by cleaning out my closets literally and figuratively, and working on increasing my energy. This will involve going to bed earlier every night, exercising and trying to eat well, as well as observing things like the "one minute rule" (doing everything that will take a minute rather than procrastinating it and having to spend ages doing it all at the end of the day/week/never).

I'm also moving on Saturday which is a great opportunity to de-clutter. It's amazing how often I mean to do this and then when it comes to packing time I just take it all with me, intending to de-clutter 'properly' in my new place when I have more space/time/inclination. I don't know why I fall for this every time. Trick me once shame on me, trick me five to six times also shame on me. What can I say, I'm a hoarder. But, (hopefully) no more!! I'll be brutal with my belongings and by next Friday night have thrown out everything I don't need or use!! That's the plan anyway.

I'm not sure what the other twelve months will entail but right now I plan for December to be working on my relationship as I'll be in Chile to visit my boy. Being a better friend and family member will also be other focuses. (Foci?)

Gretchen also has "Secrets of Adulthood" the first of which I think is "be Gretchen" as in "be yourself". I need to learn to do this so will be appropriating it. I don't know what my other secrets will be yet, or if I will use more of Gretchen's. I guess they'll develop as I go along. I do know, however, that one will be "You are not a hairdresser". I don't know how many times I have to frustratedly cut my fringe in the bathroom mirror at work so that I can actually see, only to end up looking like the lime cat or one of the Beatles, before I learn to stop. But, hopefully, having it as one of my secrets will deter me next time *fingers crossed*.

And, now to bed so that I'm well rested to begin the next year of my life!!

Buena noche!

http://crash.co.nz/humour/collection/limecat.jpg

Olde Washerwoman

My job has some great perks. One is definitely the opportunity to, every so often, get out of the office and see the country. Somehow it's worked out that it's always lovely and warm and there's often ice cream or a cream donut involved. Sometimes I get to spend the night somewhere too, which is great because with a long distance boyfriend and cat there's no real reason to spend the night in my own bed.

I spent last night in Raglan, which is absolutely beautiful. I was very excited as I'd never been there before, and was very much looking forward to relaxing in the beachy atmosphere. So after a big day trekking out on farms I thought I'd have a quick shower at the hotel before starting on my meandering. The quick shower turned into half an hour as the water pressure was excellent, and who doesn't love good water pressure? Unfortunately, unbeknownst (good word!!) to me, the shower drain was blocked. Thirty minutes of showering equates to quite a lot of water apparently. I know this because I stepped out of the shower into a bathroom wide puddle up to my ankles. The bathmat was actually floating.

I panicked and spent who knows how long trying to soak all the water up with towels and then wringing them out, and repeating. All naked as the day I was born, bar the sole dry towel wrapped around my hair (why around my hair and not my body is a mystery to me too). I tried to bail some of the water out using the closest thing I could find to a bucket, the bathroom bin. Unfortunately this was metal and not sealed properly, so, as you might expect the water flowed right through and I may as well have used a sieve. When I had soaked up enough water to have a few areas only slippery rather than below water, I opened the door to find that the bathroom was not the only room I had flooded.

Artist's impression of my situation.

The whole passageway and leading down the stairs was soaking wet. Squelchy puddles formed around my feet as I gingerly stepped onto the carpet. So, again, still naked for some reason, I continued to try and soak up more water with the already soaking wet towels. I laid down all the towels I had access to onto the puddles - bathmat, hand towel, tea towel, even the dishcloth - squelched up and down on them and then wrung them out over the sink as the shower was completely blocked at this stage. And I did this for hours.At one point I thought maybe using the hairdryer on a spot while I waited for the towels to absorb more water somehow was a good idea, but it was just an excuse to give my poor little body a break. Office work does not cut you out for the serious business of towel-wringing!!

Eventually, once I'd gotten dressed, the owner arrived and unclogged the drain and gave me a whole bunch of dry towels to form a path across the carpet marsh, as well as a fresh towel should I work up the courage for another shower. She looked, frankly, baffled that I had been squelching and wringing towels for hours. This makes me suspect I may have been crazy to do so. Oh well.

So much for my relaxing afternoon spent walking around the beautiful harbour and beaches, or at least perusing the craft shops. The only energy I could muster after my afternoon was to drag myself out for pizza, ginger beer and chocolate, come back to get into my pyjamas and watch several episodes of Doctor Who.

Blatant product placement. Feel free to contact me if you're from L&P, Whittakers or Schweppes and wish to reimburse me :)

I have gained, from this experience, immense respect for the incredible strength obviously possessed by ye olde washerwomen, as well as a new found appreciation and gratitude for whoever invented the washing machine. Good on ya mate. And now, I go to curl up my poor tired, aching body and red blistered hands in bed to dream of a man in a blue box.

Spending Out

I’ve been inspired by Gretchen Rubin of The Happiness Project to start looking for ways to make myself happier. I started off with a resolutions chart for July but about half way through stopped checking things off. Now I think on it, that’s probably about the time the boy skipped countries.. Anyways, I’ll be getting back on the resolution chart-horse soonish. 

Even without the chart I have definitely learned some lessons from reading the book and following Gretchen’s blog. Today I spent out to make myself happy, I FINALLY bought a camera charger because I lost mine way back in January. 

I love taking photos. I’m not very good at it. Roughly half of them have a finger in or are blurry, or everyone looks demonic with red eyes (I’m not convinced that this is my fault). I always put my photos up on Facebook too which my friends hate. I honestly think that all the photos I put up are good ones! Granted I don’t tend to wear my glasses when making selections, but I’d never deliberately put up a bad photo of a friend! I may also be biased because I honestly do believe all my friends are beautiful. I don't know if it's because they're awesome or because I've developed a subconscious knack for surrounding myself with beautiful people, but there you go.  

I digress. I love taking photos. I’m absolutely, positively 100% trigger happy. I love being in photos too. I almost always think I look awful, but I love the moment before the shutter flickers. It's a little bit like magic. Everyone pauses, smiles, poses, tries to hide doublie chins and guts, lengthens the neck, tilts to the side, or whatever their routine, and then 'click', the moment is captured. Candid shots are even better of course, but in this modern age of digital cameras most of these seem to get deleted when people ask to look through your photos. *shakes fist* And then there are those great moments when you’ve accidentally got it on video and there’s a minute long clip of your friends posing with cheesy grins, you saying “Hold on it’s not working” and pointing it at your feet, your face, the sky, your friends again for a while and then “Oh! Its…. (on video sorry everyone!” is cut off. As is the communal groan. I do so love communal groans. Bring us closer as human beings I think).  But the point of this is: PHOTOS. I LOVE THEM. And because I’ve baulked at paying for a charger I’ve spent the last 7 months photoless. It’s been quite distressing really. But now I can capture all of my memories as they happen! And share this: 

It's a finger puppet! Made of cat fur! 

My friend gave me this great book (I hope as a joke) for my birthday: 

The only reasonable thing to do for her birthday, then, was to make her something from it. I chose the finger puppet because it seemed the simplest project. I don't even live with a cat! My dad had to brush our cats and mail me the fur!! I think it's safe to say I am well on my way to crazy cat lady. And while I will always be of the opinion that crafting with cat fur is a tad creepy, the things in this book are just adorable and I highly recommend it to all!! 

Caustic

 I should be working on my Maori homework. After all, we do have an assessment today.The teacher always goes through what will be in the test beforehand though, so, I figure, what’s the point? Of course, were I the teacher I would do that to lull the whole class into a false sense of security then 6-7 months in, bam! Pop quiz on every single thing we’ve ever learned ever!!(because I also forget immediately after an assessment what I’ve just been assessed on)! But then, given the chance, I would also make the answer to all questions in a multi choice test ‘B’. That’d freak them right out. *cackles to self* It’s probably a good thing I’m not in the business of teaching… No Miss Honey I! 
 

Anyways, instead of aforementioned homework/test prep I am eating peanut butter out of the jar and pondering the word caustic. It’s a good word: capable of burning, corroding, or destroying living tissue according to Dictionary.com, not to be pretentious (*characterised by assumption of dignity or importance, especially when exaggerated or undeserved) or tiresome (annoying or vexatious) by quoting dictionary definitions.I met a caustic person the other day. Actually, I’d met them before, but they came across my path again. Not in a dramatic high-noon sort of situation where we declared that the room wasn’t big enough for the both of us while nervously fumbling for our weapons (luckily I’m a girl else that might have sounded dodgy!). No, just an ordinary old scenario:            The curtain rises on a room with a large wooden table around which are assembled leather padded swivel chairs. Seated on these, and conspicuously not swivelling, are an array of people, most of who are listening politely to the youngest person at the foot of the table...

Me: A point about the reason we are all here in general and why I am here in particular.

Caustic Person: I will dismiss what you have just said and do it with a smile at the people across the table to show that I am in control.

Me: Repetition of above point *with hand gestures designed to look impressive but in reality more likely to look helpless*

Caustic Person: And, on to more important matters.

Me: ….

At this point I was furious. Also deflated. But mostly angry.  How dare they treat what I had to say so dismissively when that was the main reason we had been collected together!? And with a patronising smile as though I was a little girl throwing my toys???(it should be noted at this point that if I'd had any toys I definitely would have thrown them, and I have very good aim as my poor brother can attest)?? For those who know me, I have a very slow temper (well, not with my family… But it’s bad to bottle up and they have no say as to whether or not they're my family!), but when it gets going you'd better watch out!!! Ok, I usually internalise it and become bitter. But then, eventually, I snap. That means at some point, somewhere, someone will be the recipient of my rather, I think, cutting tongue.

 

It had been a rough few weeks what with my boyfriend leaving the country (not, as some of you might have thought (and very cheeky indeed of you to have done so!) to get away from me, but because of a scholarship to be paid back in work for two years), work stresses, not having my cat etc etc etc (a story for another time), I was pretty much at snapping point. Which, had Caustic Person been looking at me, they would have noticed in the flashing of my eyes, set of my mouth, and no doubt the flaring of my nostrils.

What's a girl to do? Sourced from disney.wikia.com

Instead of snapping though, the word 'caustic' popped into my brain to describe their behaviour. And I was pleased. So much so that I smiled at them in return. Which received a rather satisfyingly astonished look. Which in turn widened my smile. I definitely would have resembled the Cheshire Cat. Slighltly less purple of course.

All in all it was a very gratifying experience. It's lucky I've got the attention span of a two year old and that I like words so much. And mentally high five myself whenever I think I've thought of a particularly good one. I hope that whenever I see this particular Caustic Person I will remain on my self-congratulatory cloud and be impervious to any caustic or unctuous (another great word!!) behaviour on his part. 

And with all that off my chest, here’s to hoping I’m the only one sadistic enough to lull students into a false sense of security!

*Dictionary.com must be American and spelled this with a ‘z’. I took the liberty of making it UK/South African/New Zealand etc English

Caterwauling

Has anyone ever heard this? I always thought it was only something that Garfield did, and maybe Thomas O’Malley from the Aristocrats. You know, to woo the lady cats and what not.

Copyright Jim Davis I assume. Source: http://www.mezzacotta.net/garfield/?comic=1210

How wrong I was. At some ungodly hour this morning I heard this awful... caterwauling is really the only word to describe it. Because it sounds like that: CaterWAUL. CAterWAUL. CATERWAUL. !!! I wonder if that’s an unintentional onomatopoeia? In any case, it was TERRIBLE. There were two caterwaulers and they went on for what felt like ever. And just when I was ready to get up and throw a slipper at them they fought and went away. I like to think that they were wooing some lady cats with serenades or maybe some stand up comedy. And then came to word-blows to fight for the lady cat’s honour, or when one the punch line was just a tad too offensive. Too soon man, too soon. I also like to think I’ll never have to listen to that ever again.

At the same time, what a great word that even in my sleep-adled state I instantly recognised that what was, in fact, happening outside my window for the very first time, was caterwauling. Go English language!

Bon Jovi to the EXTREME MAX!!!!!

So this one time, in chemistry class, when I was 16, I was sitting listening to Dr. Phil (I kid you not) talking about reaching an equilibrium in exchange reactions. He was explaining it very well using an everyday example: In our local shopping mall my friend and I were wreaking havoc – I was busy running up the down escalator while she was running down the up escalator and we were constantly high-fiving in the middle to the chagrin of our fellow moving stairs trekkers. And that is how exchange reactions work. I personally don't understand why people think chemistry is that hard. Pfffffffft.

Onto a more engaging note, my other friend, who was too sensible to run the wrong way on an escalator, was telling me about her weekend and how she’d met the hottest guy, like, EVER, and his name was Jon Bon (it wasn’t really, it was something else that sounded like a band name too) to which I cleverly replied: “Ha! Like Bon Jovi?? Hahahahhaaha!” Apparently, I was not the first person to ever think of that joke and I was warned that should fortune smile on me and I ever be so lucky as to meet this Adonis of a man, I was not to mention the similarity of his name to a certain popular music group from the 90s.. ish.. (I’m not an expert on music; it could be from any time! Except I don’t think the 60s or 70s because they don’t play him on Solid Gold) So I promised not to. And whenever I can, and I remember, I try to keep my promises.

So, several years (two to be exact) passed and the weekend was drawing near. The majority of my friends were away for some or other reason, so three of us decided to have an EXTREME to the MAX weekend!!!!! To show everyone we could too have fun without them. We started off our EXTREME to the MAX weekend!!!!! by going to the movies to watch “The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants”. It was a touching film that played our heart strings like harp... strings. It was EXTREME in the way it dealt with various body issues and the concerns of blossoming young women through a magical pair of pants. And it was believable to the MAX because I and my other totally differently shaped friends wear each other’s tight fitting jeans ALL the time (except only on excavation for me, I don’t wear pants otherwise) (except for pyjama pants). Also the little girl wet herself when she fainted. I didn’t know this was possible, I mean it makes sense, but dear God let me never faint and wet myself in a public place.

We then went to the local bottle store and stocked up on two bottles of the finest vodka money totalling $20 can buy and EXTREME drank to the MAX, interspersed with cups of Turkish apple tea, while watching the very first High School Musical followed by Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights. After all that EXTREME television and being apple tea-ed to the MAX, we moseyed down rape alley to go to a party. When we got to the party there was not a drop of alcohol to be found, which was fortunate because we were already EXTREMEly sozzled. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a group of youths sitting on the couch so I elegantly and confidently tripped and wobbled over to introduce myself. A certain dark featured and haired young man smiled at me in a heart-melting way while shaking my hand and introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Jon Bon”. Immediately I stopped, looked at him, cogs were whirring in my brain and things slowly ticking over. Time stopped and there was a kind of glow around him as slowly my thoughts processed...

“You’re not that hot” I replied and stumbled off.

I then somehow found alcohol, drank lots more and ended up with a short trip to hospital, but that is another story. To the MAX EXTREME!!!!!

Also, since seeing him sober, on my part, and topless on his, he is that hot.