The value of face-to-face

Over this holiday season I've been catching up with friends and family, who I haven't seen in a long time. That means lots of sharing of news – some of it good, some of it not-so-much. There's the friend who's pregnant again and the one still trying to get pregnant; one friend is moving away to be closer to her husband's aged parents; and a close family member apologised out of the blue for something terrible that happened years ago. There have been tears and laughs, skiing and movies, turkey and bubbly wine. It's made me appreciate the importance of face-to-face interactions over online, digital options. All the news and conversations I've shared could have taken place on Facebook or email, but they didn't; they waited until we were together. That's the value of coming together for holidays.

The difference a cold makes

I have been so looking forward to this holiday season. I'm going to be seeing some friends and family who I haven't seen in over a year. It all starts this week and I've been preparing for it for months. I've been actively excited and anticipating the get-togethers, the catch-up conversations, the drinks, the sharing, the gift-swapping, all of it for weeks. Now that it's here, about to kick-off tomorrow, I'm apathetic. Three days ago I woke up with a head cold. I've been struggling to breathe, it's taken extra effort to think clearly through my pounding head and I can barely talk without pain or a coughing fit. I know somewhere deep down I still want to see everyone, but I don't have access to those happy, eager emotions that I had before. They are dulled. So as I wait for my body to fight this cold, I hope that when I actually meet up with people I'll be able to muster an 'I've missed you. It's good to see you,' instead of a cough and a honking nose-blow.

Stress, forget, repeat

I guess it’s good that we fairly quickly forget how stressful something was, like pain. That is unless we’re silly enough to get into the same situation again. For the past several weeks I have been trying to find someone to look after our cat while we're away for Christmas. Like us, most of our friends here are also away visiting family or friends at that time of year and are, therefore, unavailable. I got to the point of not sleeping through the night. I would lie there thinking about cancelling the trip, justifying the cat’s trauma from being in a tiny cattery cage for the duration, wondering if she would be ok with just a bag of food on the floor of the kitchen and a bag of little on the floor of the spare room, contemplating begging random neighbours to let themselves into my house. Do I need to point out that stress and lack of sleep make me a little crazy? Well, last night a saviour, an out-of-colleague of my husband’s, called to ask if she could stay in our house while she’s in the city visiting her family! Now I am writing this so that I don’t repeat my stress. Memo to self: getting a cat-sitter at Christmas time is more stressful than it’s worth – I think. (I’ll have to confirm that once I get back from my trip – presumably the visit will not be exponentially better because it’s Christmastime since we’re not a religious, sentimental family/friend group.)

Swiss cheese elephant brain

I am like an elephant in that I remember things for a very long time - unnecessarily long in some cases. For instance, I remember the time in university when a friend and I were publicly humiliated on a bus by a blind woman. I often recall, in detail, conversations my husband and I have had over the past year and wonder if the confessions made still need to worry me. I mentally relive family Christmases and camping trips. I can often keep useless amounts of celebrity gossip in my head, and I’m not even interested in celebrity gossip. Then, at other times, the swiss cheese factor arises. I go to the supermarket with a plan for dinner and forget to buy a key ingredient. I don’t remember for two days to take my daily migraine-prevention pills. The wrong name slips out for a friend I’ve known for years. I suppose I should be thankful that most of the time the consequences of my swiss cheese brain aren’t too severe. And these slips often keep us entertained.

Non-fulfilled prophecy

I think I've learned a useful new skill (or is a habit of mind?) recently. Like any new skill/habit it's not totally reliable, but when it works it's worth it. On two weekends over the last month I've felt a migraine coming on. Instead of giving in to it, curling up in bed and feeling horrible for several hours of uselessness, I've got on with life. I've gone out with my husband and done some shopping. I've had brunch with friends. Basically I've consciously chosen to focus on non-taxing, but engaging activities. By staying in the present and not getting caught in the negative mental loop of 'I've got a migraine, don't I feel terrible,' I haven't succumbed to it. I know this won't work every time in every circumstance, but when I can it's nice to have the ability to not give in to the chronic migraine prophecy – especially on a nice weekend when I have other plans.

Surprisingly

Two positive things have happened on my two most recent trips on public transport. I'm choosing to focus on the good over the many, minor annoyances that also occurred. First, a lady got on, who obviously knew the driver, and they began chatting. When she was asked how she was, the lady answer, 'Whingey,' with a laugh. I thought that was a refreshingly honest and unusual answer to a stock question. Then, today the tram was very late, which made me late for work. Instead of getting frustrated or anxious, I arranged to have an apology sign put on the room where I was supposed to be teaching a workshop, and I enjoyed the sunshine as I waited.

Less thinking, more being

I realised last week that I keep myself mentally on edge. It's hard to explain. So I've been trying to more fully relax into the moment. If I'm not enjoying what I'm doing, such as when I'm vacuuming or chopping meat, then I try to experience the anticipation of the good that will come from that action. Part of this new step toward being more present is also that I'm trying to be less analytical and cerebral about everyday life. That means not storing up thoughts and ideas to write about here. Therefore, I might start to write in this blog less often. I'm hopeful, though, that when I do sit down to write it will be more engaging and natural.

Not one of the sardines

I've experienced something new about this city in the process of finding a new way to work this past week. I usually take a tram that goes along the most common route. At rush-hour it is often so busy that the first tram won't stop, or if it does then it's squished standing-room only. The last few times I've taken the tram to work, I've gone away from the city for a few stops, then got on a different line. It weaves its way through quiet suburbs, there's always a seat and the atmosphere on the tram is quieter and less frenetic than on the line that goes directly into the city. I had heard people talk about certain lines having their own personality (and personalities on board) and now I have found one that matches mine better than hectically trying to get into the city at rush-hour with all the other sardines.

Life is a like a...

I've just read yet another article about how passionate, happy couples are ones that fight occasionally, then make-up. Those articles make me anxious and a little sad because my husband and I have always been one of those couples that don't fight. We have discussions; we disagree on philosophies or ideologies, but on most things we agree or compromise. I think we do this because neither of us learned to fight and make-up in healthy ways from our parents – his are too polite and restrained, mine are too unevenly matched so avoided confrontation. Now we are following those patterns: don't get worked up about little things, confrontation can get out of control and noisy so vent your anger in other ways, in public always maintain your dignity and a calm voice, compromise makes everyone happy, and so on. It wasn't until our marriage trouble of this year that I saw that these ideas could be a problem. Following these patterns has had the result that we've never really had the fun that comes with a make-up, we've never fully aired our issues with each other, we've repressed our negative feelings and got bored. It's got to the point when, even if a fight were appropriate (like with some revelations made in the thick of our near-divorce) we couldn't have one. We were too out of practice. Now, I think we need to try to make our life a little more like a novel (or any good story), which has ups and downs, as well as changes in pace and mood. The characters don't get angry about nothing, but they don't do nothing in the face of stimulus. Rewriting this aspect (I could have said chapter, but that might be overdoing the analogy) of our marriage might prove to be as difficult and time consuming as writing a novel too. At least I have some experience with novel-writing, if not healthy fighting.

The best beverage (or gra-tea-tude)

Tea is the best beverage, I reckon. It's got me through today when I have a sore throat and feel cold all the time. It gives me an excuse to get up from my desk, whether I'm at home or at work, to get some movement. It's easy to make and it's cheap, and it can be drunk at any time of the day by anyone, unlike most other drinks. It's just as good hot or cold, which can't be said for any other drink, even saké, I don't think. Finally, some kinds of teas have health benefits like anti-oxidants and other special properties so it's good for you.

The only thing that would make tea better right now is if, when I finish this cup, my head cold were miraculously gone.

Tangible need for an intangible

I'm feeling grateful for my husband's encouragement. The other night I woke up in the middle of the night feel overwhelmed by self-doubt. I wondered why I thought I could be a writer, why I was impacting our livelihood for a frivolous dream. I lay there racked with guilt and insecurity. I began to think that I should just go back to my secure, but anxiety-provoking, dysfunctional teaching job next school year. When I told my husband about it, he talked sense into me. He supported my need to continue to try to become a paid writer and to work in a place where I feel valued, respected and productive. This tangible need for sleep was satisfied by an intangible: encouragement.

Two realisations in one day

My first realisation was bittersweet. It took a near-divorce for my husband and I to feel appropriate feelings of sadness for an upcoming time apart. My husband left today for three weeks overseas with his extended family. It's bittersweet because the reason he's going away has come out of the counselling work we did. After much good, open communication, we decided that a family catch-up trip for him was the priority and that trying to fit it in around my school's terms and the budget of both of us going was causing undue stress. However, since we've begun to repair our relationship, I'm feeling very sad that he's going to be gone for so long (I had become immune to him going interstate every week for work). We had an emotional farewell this morning before I went to work and I keep having to remind myself that we won't talk tonight (I've apparently got into the habit of our before-bed phone calls while he's away). This has been a good reminder of how important our relationship is, despite it being hard work sometimes.

Then, secondly, today when I was feeling sad, I figured out that feelings can't hurt me. Well d'uh, you might say. I know they can make me, and other people, experience psychosomatic conditions (in my case migraines). In reality, though, emotions can't actually do damage. I'm hoping as long as I can remember that, then I can manage not to get as wrapped up in the mind-stuff of emotions, especially negative, counter-productive ones. That's probably easier said than done, but I'll try.

Predicting the future, but it's already here

I was reading the GoodWeekend magazine that comes with The Saturday Age when I noticed a story about something I wrote about in the novel I'm currently revising. It's set about 1500 years in the future, but apparently webrities are already here. A webrity is a celebrity who is web-based. They aren't a physical being, but they have a personality, act on a show or make music (or whatever they're famous for) and generate gossip and speculation like any other celebrity. In the GoodWeekend story ('Sound of the Future' by Mark White) I learned about Hatsune Miku who is a Japanese singer. She has performed with the Japanese Philharmonic Orchestra and will star in an opera in Paris in a few months, and she's a computer program. I was excited to see that an idea I had come to independently and creatively for the futuristic world of my novel is actually realistic and possible – not just in terms of technology, but psychologically, in terms of fans buying into a webrity. I don't know that I'll be a major writer in the speculative genre, but I could see how it might be addictive.

Kerfuffle of hands

My husband and I went for a walk. Once we got into our rhythm, we moved to clasp hands. Mine went on top, his underneath – but that's not how we usually do it. We adjusted to the 'right' way and went on. However, it did make me hyper-aware of the act of holding hands. It reminded me that when I was younger, before the experience of boyfriends, I thought the height of romance was holding hands with the fingers intertwined. I fantasised about when would be the perfect moment to slip my fingers between his in a gesture of exclusivity.

Now I'm lucky. I'm in a marriage where that's the 'right' way, probably because we've been holding hands that way for almost fifteen years. This kerfuffle of hands also got me noticing other couples, those who were or weren't holding hands. I feel very appreciative to be in a state in our relationship where we hold hands when we go for a walk. Earlier this year, that may not have been the case. Now, instead of obsessing over the significance of what type of hand hold we'll have, like in high school, I'm grateful for the act of joining hands.

Professional amateur or amateur professional?

I have been thinking about the point of this blog recently, ever since I browsed a book about blogging last week. The book, Blogging for Creatives by Robin Houghton, had lots of tips and ideas for making a really comprehensive blog that marketed yourself as a brand. That got me wondering if that was my desire for this blog. Did I want to turn this into something very businesslike and make it a self-promotion tool? Or am I content creating a (hopefully) well-edited, but quick, basic and personal journal that happens to be on the web? For the time being, I have decided on the latter. I greatly appreciate anyone who chooses to read my posts (and I like seeing the stats creep slowly up), but I don't feel the need to court subscribers and guest writers or stick to a theme or have a purpose. The one tip I did take from the book was that adding images to posts makes them more attractive. So, when I can I will try to include a picture with a post to break up the text. I've never done it and I can't think of a relevant picture for this post, but I'll have a go anyway.

My cat, perhaps the most professional amateur ever.

Two boosts to morale

There has been a very unsettled feeling at work for the past week. I don't know that the students have picked up on it, but the office staff and teachers have been keeping to themselves. It all started when a teacher was dismissed, seemingly without warning, last week and asked to leave campus that same afternoon. A brief, generic email statement was the only notification we got. Today I stumbled, almost literally, onto two good cures for low morale. First, I was walking through the back hall to the office to pick up a print. I went past the film studio, dodged a student, turned into the connecting corridor that leads to the backdoor of the copier room and almost bumped into a student in his jocks. He glanced at me and laughed, I covered my eyes and kept walking, then had a laugh about our crazy workplace with one of the office ladies. Second, I opened the pack of snakes from the bottom desk drawer. Maybe it's the sugar buzz, or the sweetness, or the silliness of sitting in a library in a college eating a gummy snake, but it helped lighten the mood.

Something nice

I've decided to try and do something nice for the Earth everyday for a week. I suspect they'll probably also end up being healthy for me too, an added bonus. This week is inspired by riding home on my bike last night and trying to distract myself from the cold by thinking, which started with wondering why I was riding in the cold. Also, some of the ideas and inspiration comes from Michael Pollan's In Defence of Food. So yesterday's good deed was riding to work on a hand-me-down bike. Today I'm getting our week's fruit and veggies from a CSA (community-supported agriculture) program. Tomorrow I plan to have only one computer turned on at a time, which means making sure my home computer is off before I go to work, then turning off my work laptop before using the desktop computer. Thursday will be public transport day. Friday will be meat-free and, if I can manage it, packaging free. Saturday we're having people over so we've planned classic (electricity-free) games and   homemade food. Sunday we will probably eat leftovers and garden. I'll see if I can think of anything more inspiring to add to the weekend. Hopefully by writing this down I'll stick to it all week (the anonymous internet will hold me accountable).

Long distance help

My grandmother had a serious fall recently and is bed-ridden, unable to eat properly and shaken up by the experience. I want to help, but I live too far away to visit or make her smoothies. So I was thinking: what could I do, what have I got to offer at a distance that is uniquely mine, meaningful and helpful? I realised she might be feeling bored some of the time, especially in the evening when people are done visiting for the day. My plan is to send her links to interesting websites that I find (not just LOL cats, she knows where those are) and stories I've written. I will offer entertainment from across the sea. If she doesn't like my stories, she can edit them or whinge about them, which possibly has as much value as her mindlessly taking them in. I sent the first instalment last night, now I'll wait and see if she like the idea too.

Online world is for sick people

I've been sick for a few weeks and now that I'm on antibiotics I'm feeling worse than I did when I was sick.  However, I realised something positive about the internet and its lack of direct, personal contact. I can talk to lots of people without spreading germs. It takes less physical energy to keep up-to-date with friends, do the weekly shopping (which I haven't done online yet because I'm not that far gone) and watch a movie if you do it via the internet. Also through the wonders of the internet it's not as boring being sick nowadays, I think. There's access to endless amounts of reading and viewing in all genres at all times of the day. And, like this moment, when I don't feel like reading or viewing because my brain is functioning fairly well because I haven't taken any medication yet, I can write!

Tribute to my grandmother

I'm missing my grandmother tonight. It's the strangest, most random things that make me think of her. At work when I hear the room deodoriser puff, it reminds me of the automatic bug repellent dispenser my grandmother had over her kitchen counter. Although she died in her mid-nineties of 'natural causes', the sound still makes me wonder about cancer rates from ingesting bug spray with food. When I hear someone give a command to a dog, I immediately picture her keeping my dad and uncles, her horses and dogs, and us grandkids in line with a sharp, Victorian-era schoolmarm reprimand. Realising I'd spent most of today staring at a computer then a television screen made me miss the feel of the thick stationary I would have used to write to her. Then that makes me think of her satiny soft hands holding my letters as she reads them. It's made my winter night cosier to spend time with her in memory.

Two sides of terrible

One: a young woman in my writing class shared the first chapter of her novel with us – terrible (in my humble opinion). I think bad writing is something most people instinctively recognise like bad singing or bad coffee. It might have been redeemed had it had plot rather than characters ('Mary Sue's to be precise) running around doing drugs and engaging in meaningless sex; it could have been more readable if there some 'show' amongst all the 'tell'; maybe if the sentences had been in a consistent tense I would have found something nice to say. It failed all these tests. But my point is: she, the young author, probably didn't think it was terrible. She is very enthusiastic and passionate when she talks about books and writing. This work did not seem representative of her – completely unlikable work from a very likeable person. (I don't know that I knew right away that my first attempt at a novel was terrible, but I didn't show it to too many people so maybe I had an inkling. Now I know it is and it will stay safely in my writing box.)

Two: I've been feeling sick for a few weeks. It started out low-level, but has ramped up in the past week. I keep wondering if I'm in terrible pain or just moderate or everyday pain. I don't think it's too unbearable, but to someone else (my doctor when he asks, for example) it might feel more or less severe. The really shitty thing about this pain is that it's sucked my empathy for my students' issues (and beginning writers, you might argue), and it's drained my energy and creativity so that I'm not much more than a roommate to my husband at the moment. Part of me wants it to hurry up and go away, but then I wouldn't know the cause; and part of me knows I need it to last long enough that they can find the issue, then fix it. Terrible.

Turning point

I think I had a turning point at work last week. I was booked pretty much fully all week, which was busy and meant I had to start scheduling breaks and paperwork catch-up times. (Up until now I've had some days with no students booked in at all.) It's good, though, because it means the students need/want my services and it shows the school they are right to employ me for as many hours as they do. Also, three students, through no prompting of my own, shared life issues that they're dealing with, with me. Two just wanted to get it off their chest and one asked advice. ('I see that you're married. How do you know someone is the right person? Is he still the right person?' – Tough, poignant questions.) This was important because, without realising it, I had been feeling like I had a superficial relationship with my students. I don't teach the same class all the time anymore; they're not children, who need me and share everything unguardedly; and I was feeling like it could be anyone in there doing my job and it would make no difference. Then when these three students, all of whom I worked with last semester quite a bit, opened up to me spontaneously about some pretty heavy problems, I felt privileged and knew that I have now been there long enough to earn their trust. Also, this job can be as rewarding and meaningful as classroom teaching, in a different way.

Saying 'yes'

My husband and I got a gift card for a photo shoot at an artsy studio. They create interesting arrangements of photos on canvas and other media for your wall. My initial reaction was to say, 'no, thanks' and let the gift card quietly expire. My husband thought it could be fun, plus it was free. Then I remembered advise from the Improv book I'm reading, which advises saying yes to suggestions and not 'blocking' your partner (not only does it make for better Improv shows, but it makes for a more interesting life, Keith Johnstone says). So, this weekend we went to take the photos; next weekend we go back to look at the results. Despite my misgivings about my un-photogenic-ness and what the photographer or camera may pick up in terms of lingering tension or awkwardness in our relationship, it was actually fun. I found I was very attracted to my husband watching him in shirt and coat (and pants, obviously) with his glass of scotch, being posed in 'Mad Men-style' lighting. He made flattering comments about my body, which leads me to think he was having a similar experience, when it was my turn. Then we did some sweet and silly couples shots. If these pictures turn out, and if we continue to work things out (as we seem to be doing at the moment), then they could be a really good memento our survival as a couple.

Gardening in the rain

I did something this morning that I haven't done before: gardening in the rain. It has its pros and cons. I got something done off my weekend to do list and it was easier to pull weeds because the ground was soft. However, it was lonelier than usual because there were neighbourly sounds around, no birds chirping and my cat didn't join like she normally does. Also, I may have learned something valuable about myself: I'm a tad eccentric. I bundled up and went out when it wasn't really raining and figuring it would ease. It didn't. It got harder and harder. Rather than going in, I stayed out there until my fingers were numb. Not to get the job done (it's never done in the garden – not because mine's huge and cultivated, far from it), just because I like the rain and was optimistic that at any minute it might stop raining. It didn't. I perhaps had hints before that I was eccentric, now that I think about it. I hold conversations with my cat out loud, in public (through my front door as I unlock it); I can't shake the belief that emails with attachments only work if there's text in the body of the email (my students laugh at me); I often don't remember my age because I don't feel any particular number. There, that's some of my weirdness in all its glory.

The difference a year makes

This time last year I would have been feeling stress and anxiety as I started a new school term. I would have been happy to see my students again, but dreading another term with my teaching partner, who was hard to work with. The workload and extra responsibilities placed on me by the school administrators would have been weighing on my mind. In contrast, today I wrote for two hours. Then after breakfast I volunteered at the Botanical Gardens, helping edit their quarterly newsletter. Next I went into the city for the first session of a new class, which meant discussing books, workshopping and more writing. Finally, I went to work for about three hours where I marked quizzes, texted students who have appointments tomorrow and checked out books for people who came into the library. There was no anxiety; I didn't feel stressed; I exercised my creativity; and I put my time and energy into pursuits that feed my soul and will hopefully soon be out in the world for others to enjoy too. As interminable as last year felt, I've come out the other side stronger, and with a clearer sense of purpose and gratitude.

'A very stubborn person'

I like Keith Johnstone observation in Impro: Improvisation and Theatre that to be very stubborn to be an artist. I think this idea will give me a reason to keep trying to publish rather than giving in to despair and frustration after my next rejection. Who are they to tell me I can't be a writer? I know I'm doing what I'm meant to be doing; I can feel it.
Another thing I've learned about writing from Johnstone's book is about status. He talks about how pretty much all interactions between people (and often between people and objects) is about status. There are behavioural and vocal indicators of high or low status, and often people are jockeying for their preferred position. This will help me to write scenes between characters in my stories. It's something I knew, but hadn't put consciously into words before.
Johnstone's book is making me think about how similar writing fiction is to doing improv (something I've done in the past). The context/back-story of the characters is like the setting or other suggestions given by the audience to the improv actor. From that, the writer creates the interaction and moves the plot along with similar freedom and constraints as actors on stage builds the scene.

Strange Brain

Recently I've had two examples of the strangeness of the brain (I'm going to assume they're general quirks of all brains, not just mine). First, my warning signs for an oncoming migraine have changed over the past few months. They are now quite fascinating, not to mention handy. Whereas before I would get drowsy and dizzy only an hour before the migraine struck (often to the point where I shouldn't safely drive myself home), now I get a tingling in my hand or whole arm the day before. Then a few hours before the migraine I see spots. Because I'm not mentally impaired yet at the time these flags wave, I can admire their usefulness and bizarreness. The second strangeness has kept me awake the last two nights. My brain has been firing interesting, creative ideas around for my current novel as well as other stories. The night before last, I lay in bed typing half a chapter on my tiny phone screen so I could stay warm but not wake up my husband. Last night I got an idea for possibly my next novel. I noticed myself get really interested and fired up about it. Two problems, though: it was the middle of the night, and I'm not really all that close to finishing the current one. All I could do was get my ideas down and then lie there trying to tell my brain to calm down. I'm going to bed now to see what strangeness, if any, my brain offers tonight - hopefully it's in the form of dreams while I'm sound asleep.

When I take my head out

Usually I keep my head in the sand, when it comes to the news. I keep a small hole to the surface so I know if something major happens, but I try not to watch or read the news too much. I find it very overwhelming and depressing, in general. I am a worrier by nature, as you may have noticed. However, watching the news last night left me with a feeling of gratitude. I (we, depending on who's reading this) live in a country that doesn't really have to worry about earthquakes. And even if we have the odd rumble, it's nothing like what's happened in Indonesia. Despite recent political 'turmoil' and an impending election here, it will be nothing like Egypt: leaders will lose their life; people will not have to fear for their lives, loved ones, livelihoods or property. Finally, I learnt that you can survive falling into a sink hole in your car. That's one less thing I need to worry about, whew!

Much ado about...

A cat bully: big, fluffy, half-siamese, half-persian. S/he moved in next door a few weeks ago and began climbing onto the fence between the yards. This used to be solely my cat's domain - she's bigger than the other neighbourhood cats and has made it known, with hisses and yowls, that our front and backyard is hers. This new interloper shows up, takes a liking to our yard and now my cat's afraid to go outside. I've never actually seen them fight, but I came home from work last week and my cat was very spooked. She was sitting in the middle of the living room, staring at the back door. Her tail was all puffed up and she kept looking around with wide eyes. I checked all the windows and doors to make sure that no one had tried to get in. Then, after coming home a few more nights to find the neighbour's cat hanging out in our yard, I had conclude that s/he had tried to get in our cat door. My response to this is twofold. Partly I want to go over to my new neighbour and politely introduce myself, genuinely welcome her to the neighbourhood, then dob on her cat and insist she teach it manners. The other part of me knows this is completely ridiculous since they're cats. You can't train cats, neither of them are actually fighting each other and mine's not that stressed about staying inside all day, especially given it's winter. So like my cat, I'm going to do... nothing.

Online symptom checkers

I've been fighting a nagging cold (or maybe something worse) for over a week. Today I did something morbidly fascinating: I looked at an online medical symptom checker. At first I was interested to see if I might have something worse than your average cold or gastro. Then I started adding extra symptoms to see if I could get it to diagnose any extreme diseases. Unfortunately it kept the boring, common ones at the top of the list and the more interesting, exotic options stayed further down. I think there must be some statistical determinate programmed to balance out the symptoms I was inputting. However, I  caught myself thinking at one point that the computer was telling my I had a 94% chance of having appendicitis. Luckily I heard my own absurdity before I rushed off to the emergency ward. But it did make me think about how we have to be careful not to believe what we are told just because we see it in print. So, it seems to turn out that I am not dying of anything very exciting, and am just fighting a common winter cold.

Simple Things

When I'm sick I forget the simple things more easily, but I also appreciate the simple pleasures more. So, for the past few days I've forgotten to empty the cat little box (she doesn't seem to mind) and check the mail. Also, though, I was very happy climbing into clean sheets, and having a stimulating conversation with my husband about a book he's reading made my night. I was excited to be able to eat take away pizza, even though it was a little soggy (we won't order from that place again). I keep forgetting to turn off the tap when I'm brushing my teeth, wasting precious water (at least I'm remembering to brush). When things are back to normal, there will probably be some cleaning to do because I'm just not noticing (or am I deliberately turning a blind eye to?) the dust and fur-bunnies. On the other hand, I'll also feel good again so maybe I won't mind whipping around the house singing to iTunes, mop in hand.

Constructive criticism

Today I’m grateful for the distractions that have kept me from thinking about all the constructive criticism I got in class today. It was the last day of one of my novel writing classes. I got my final assignment, a large excerpt, back. Constructive criticism is useful, but it’s still criticism and today it’s drained me. I’m feeling wobbly – barely holding back tears and self-doubt. I was pleased with the piece I handed in; I thought it was working pretty well; I’m dismayed and overwhelmed at how much still needs to be done with it. The distractions that have got me through the afternoon so I didn’t lose it and bawl like a baby in public were: work that I enjoy; beautiful patterns from shadows on the sidewalk while walking home; my silly cat peering at me through the bush in my front yard when I got home; tasty, gooey Danish feta on my salad; a warm fire and clean sheets. I guess nothing worth doing is easy, but tonight I’m too depleted to embrace that truth.

Materialism = competiteness?

The other day my husband came home quite excited because his company had just signed a deal with a certain flying-lady airline. He was now automatically a Gold member with all the associated rewards. This is in the same week when he's also become a Platinum member of another airline because of all the inter-state flying he's done for work in the last eight months. So he's doubly pleased. My husband is ambitious and likes exclusive things. That's not me, so much. When I play tennis I want to know I've made my best shot. I'm thrilled this week because a small inconsequential decision I made months ago will be pivotal to the ending of my current novel. I appreciate beauty in fine art, but don't need to spend vast amounts of money to display it in my home. Don't get me wrong: I enjoy cheering for my team (but I often get caught up in the excitement of a really good goal no matter which side it's for); I am extremely grateful to have a comfortable home and my husband's income has a lot to do with that; and I know that economies and scientific discoveries rely on materialism and competitiveness respectively. I just hadn't associated the two personality traits  before. I'll have to observe other people we know to see if this link holds up. 

I must have been having fun

This week feels like it has gone by quickly, particularly at work. I think time has flown because I have been teaching a transition course at the college to students starting their courses next week. They have been a friendly, engaged group of people and I have really enjoyed teaching as a change from my normal one-on-one academic support and library tasks. Now I don't know that I would be satisfied being a classroom teaching all the time, but I definitely know that I would not be satisfied never being a classroom teacher. I'm realising that variety is the spice of work.

Everyone needs a brother (or sister)

Although he sometimes annoys me and I don't always agree with him, I'm grateful for having a brother. He's helped me through the worst times of the my life, and even when he can't actually do anything to help he often supplies surprising wisdom or useful advice. He's also been at the best events of my life – my graduations, wedding and so on. Those are the qualities I think anyone should look for in a brother or sister and I don't think you necessarily need to be born with one. Honourary siblings can be just effective as biological ones. I think another key to the relationship, which you can't create artificially, is a long shared history. We've helped each other process the residual confusions and neurosis left over from our unique childhood and from the mental illness of a close relative. No one else who's only been in my life as long as Facebook has been able to understand my family issues in the same way. So cultivate your sibling relationship(s), honourary or not, even if they drive you crazy sometimes.

Dashed dreams

I'm trying to decide if false hope is maybe a little bit good. Two examples from this week: one, I was reading a murder mystery for book club and thought there were twenty pages left, then they solved the murder. I thought for a minute that there would some crazy twist, the murder wasn't really solved, but it really was. Two pages later the story ended and there were fifteen pages of 'bonus' interviews and excerpts from the next book by the author. Two, I was waiting for a train home in the cold wind and saw one coming. Expectation seemed to raise my body temperature and a smile crossed my face, but alas it was the reflection of one coming the other way in the curved, frosted glass of the platform. I think hope is always a good thing, even if it's fleeting (I am an optimist). Maybe the lesson is not to put too much emotional investment into the dream so that you're not totally crushed if it turns out to be dashed in the end. (I'm not sure I like that; it sounds a little pessimistic.)

Hot chocolate and self-preservation

I met up with a friend I haven't seen in a while yesterday. She has read a few parts of this blog so knew a little about what's been going on. We sat in a fancy chocolate shop, drinking hot chocolate and rehashing what my marriage has been through. Although it still feels like a never-ending saga (the last few weeks have been more downs than ups), it was good to go over it and realise what I've learnt and how I've grown up from all this. Also, she has been divorced (and now re-married) and was a strong advocate for having a contingency plan and convincing me I will survive whatever happens. She also ended our visit by saying that I look happier, less stressed, now than I did last year when I hated my job and was having regular anxiety attacks. That was a good reminder that marriage is only one aspect of my quite wonderful life.

The power of a good decision

I know that title sounds like a self-help book, but in this case it's apt. I have self-helped in the truest sense. For weeks something about my marriage and my husband has been bothering me. On the weekend it finally coalesced into something I could verbalise. I wasn't sure if I love him still, if I was staying in the relationship because I like the security, if I was using him or being a coward. When that all came boiling into consciousness, I realised that I did want to love him. So I decided to love him. As soon as I made that decision, I knew it was right. The rightness zinged like a tuning fork tapped gently. I realise now that deciding to love him means I've actually decided to forgive him for the pain he's caused me in the last few months and move on with our relationship. Instead of the dull ambiguous disinterest and vague anger that's been clouding my feelings for ages, I feel renewed. Now I get to rediscover all the fun ways of actually showing someone you love them. 

Cat philosophy

I've seen several good examples of my cat's approach to life in the last few days. First, be creative: take a (clean) loofa from the bath for a toy. Second, exercise jubilantly: chase it around the house, sliding into walls and furniture with abandon. Third and fourth, nap somewhere warm and flaunt your best features: collapse, belly-up, in front of the fire and make sure anyone who walks by stops for a cuddle. Finally, have a good routine and don't over-think life: get up tomorrow and do the same thing, if it makes you happy. I think I could learn a thing or two from her.

Advice from Anxiety

I had an anxiety attack this week, my first in several months. I was jittery, my heart was sprinting, and my head was inundated with self-doubt and uncertainty. I was thinking: I should give up trying to be a writer; no one wants to publish my book; why am I wasting my time and our money.... Then in rebellion (or self-esteem survival) my brain offered these replies: I only need one acceptance amongst all the rejection emails/letters; no one's good a new career right away; yesterday I was on a high over a website publishing my article. So that's what I need to try to remember – the good advice I gave myself in the depths of an anxiety attack.

Productivity while sitting in bed

The cat and I are still sitting in bed, because it's warmer here than going out into the kitchen/living room. Despite that I've got so much done thanks to the wonders of the internet and email. I've tracked our expenses for the past four months (my husband is worried that we're not saving enough with me not earning as much as I was when I was teaching full-time, plus our love of travel and fine restaurants isn't helping); I've replied to an email about casual work to let them know I'm interested if it fits around my current job; I've expressed interest to my bank in a review of our mortgage (which might help the finances); and most exciting, I've written a contributor profile and had word that an article I wrote is going to be published online soon (hopefully the first of many for this website). Now I think I'll go have breakfast.

Slips of the fingers

Two funny things on the computer screen got me through the Friday afternoon doldrums at work this week. First, I was helping a student do research for a music essay and instead of typing 'classical composer' into the search engine, I typed 'classical composter'. I got an image in my head of an ornate Victorian-style backyard worm compost system. It made me giggle anyway. Then, later I was looking through the government website for training courses that would help me in my job. Among the list of courses like Aircraft Radio Communication Repair and Foot Care - health focus and Dementia Support (I should add, I did not find any courses that relate to my job), I found two which I'm not sure anyone would voluntarily sign up for (or many people have, depending on your point of view): Problem Gambling, and Alcohol and Other Drugs. I'm hoping the course titles are just incomplete, missing words like Prevention or Coping with. Either way, it got me through to five o'clock home time.

Lessons from books

I have had several very different lessons from the books I've read recently that I don't want to forgot.

From Half of the Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie I've learnt about the attempted independence of the Igbo people in Nigeria and the resulting civil war during the 1960s. This has made me think about how cruel and violent people are towards one another and the deprivations of war. However, one of the main characters becomes someone who finds small things to laugh at in life despite its horror, which I also think is a valuable lesson. So I'm torn between feeling immense sadness and despair at the state of the world and enormous gratitude for the ease and blessings of my life.

I've just started Andre Agassi's Open in which he often says 'control what you can control'. The subtext of this is don't worry about the rest. This is useful partly because I'm a natural worrier, and partly because it fits my attitude to our marriage and my writing getting published. I often catch myself wondering nervously about our marriage sinking back to where one of us decides it needs to end, particularly if we're tired, stressed or sick and haven't been very communicative or loving towards each other. I can only do what I can do, I can't actually change my husband or his state of mind; I have to remember this. In terms of writing, I can keep writing the stories I feel inspired to tell in the best way I can, then I have to wait for the agents, publishers and magazines I send it to, to take the next step. It's a lesson in patience and letting go. Also, Agassi's book talks a lot about doing something you hate as a job of career, which reinforces that I do not want to be someone who goes to work hating my job everyday and resenting the hours I'm there. This seems especially unfair if you're working with children. Therefore, leaving my school and doing other things this year was the right decision.

Finally, I'm also reading The Design of Everyday Things by Donald A. Norman. He advises that when things don't work, like a new TV or an unfamiliar shower, it's a problem with the design. He suggests when you pick something up and figure out how to use it right away it's because someone has worked hard to design it well. This comes at the end of a chapter describing why people shouldn't beat themselves up over not being able to use a complicated new phone system or program a VCR (to use some slightly archaic examples). Also, it hints at how we can be a bit more mindful about the items we use for mundane tasks and feel appreciation for the objects that make our life easier (and for the people who designed the objects well).

The best commute

I may have found the best way to commute tonight. I rode my bike home in a t-shirt (even though it's May) in the beautiful autumn dusk. I passed many cars stuck in traffic while getting exercise, breathing mostly fresh air and not adding to air pollution. Also, it took less time and was less cramped than it would have been on public transit at 5pm on a Friday. Now I feel like I can guilt-freely enjoy a drink and some chocolate for dessert. I'm going to ignore the fact, for the moment, that many of the things that made tonight's commute lovely are transient. Cheers to the weekend.

20 Things

I've challenged myself to think of 20 things I'm glad for tonight:
1) No more gastro bug
2) QI - I learn something and laugh every week
3) Cheese - especially when it's warm and melty
4) Balmy autumn wind
5) Honest students - one asked me for help, but admitted that I might get in trouble if I did
6) Appreciative student - got a spontaneous hug from the student I helped
7) My work laptop - meant I could take my work upstairs with me so I could keep working while keeping an eye on the student when I unlocked the computer lab for him
8) My home laptop - so I can sit in bed writing
9) My warm bed
10) Catching up with an old friend on Skype and 'meeting' a her baby for the first time
11) Forgetfulness - I left my wallet in my desk at lunch, which meant I didn't have to think of an excuse not to buy a ring off a random woman on the street who tried to sell me one
12) A busy day at work - the 7.6 hours went quickly, but weren't so frantic that it was stressful
13) Cat - keeping me company when my husband's working away
14) My fleecy Ikea blanket
15) Book club - I'm learning about Nigeria's (Biafra's) attempted independence and civil war in the '60s and will go out for a fun dinner on the weekend
Now I can't think of any more items specific to today so I'll fall back on:
16) My phone - keeps me in touch with my husband when he's away
17) Our car - which is nice, newish and got me to work comfortably the last few days when I wasn't feeling well
This is hard. Now I'm debating adjusting my challenge, but perhaps that just means it's more important to think about this and acknowledge my gratitude.
18) My job - which gives me time in the morning to write (or sleep when I'm sick) and is varied in its tasks so it's not boring
19) New colleagues - talked to my new counter-part on another campus today; she seemed nice and knowledgeable
20) Nail polish - a cheap way to feel indulgent

I did feel something coming, but was it luck?

Several days ago I wrote that I felt like I was going to have some luck this week in terms of a response to my writing. Well, I did get a reply from an agent. So in that sense I was right. However, it was a standard 'thanks, but no thanks' rejection letter. Now, because I'm incessantly optimistic (or I don't like to be wrong), I'm thinking about how that rejection could in fact be lucky. Maybe it's paved the way for the next one to be an acceptance; maybe I should take the stock advice offered in it about getting (another) manuscript assessment; maybe I need to hit some lucky number of rejections before fate/destiny/the universe/God/whoever sees fit to publish my book. So many possibilities and soon my fingers will start to hurt from being crossed all the time.

Semicolons (If I call it that will anyone read it?)

I noticed in my last post that I used a lot of semicolons. Perhaps I should have declared in my profile that I'm a geek for punctuation. I'm taking an professional editing class and I fear that I creep into 'serial comma use' as my teacher calls it quite regularly and happily. I'd like to think I'm using my commas and semicolons correctly, if generously. Maybe that could be another aim of this blog - raise the internet's semicolon count (maybe I'd need to start one first; it could be an annual thing like the cherry blossom count in western Canada). You may not believe this, but I generally try to restrain my 'advanced' (pretentious?) punctuation use. Perhaps I'm getting more comfortable with blogging so I let myself go a little in the last post. I'll try to rein myself in a little more in the future, maybe.

Morbid curiosity

Last night it was the coldest it's been so far this autumn. I was shivering on my way home from work, which was partly my fault because, as an optimist, I under-dressed. As I stood on the platform thinking about where my winter coat was, I had a useless compulsion to look at the temperature on my phone. It wasn't going to make me warmer (the ambient radiation's not that bad); it wasn't going to be cold enough that I could brag about having survived it in just a spring coat and fashion scarf. So I started wondering about the biological or evolutionary advantage of morbid curiosity. Why do we gawk at horrific accidents? Why does my brother still show me his gruesome biking injuries; and why do I open the attachment? My theory, and I am not qualified in field to officially come up with theories, is that it's twofold. We show people, and look at, blood and gore and bad things happening as a primitive warning system. 'This is what can happen when you...' That doesn't explain my mental wrestle with my weather app last night. So, I think the other side of it is to reassure ourselves that we're ok. I looked at the temperature when I got home, once I was nice and warm; it was a bit below ten degrees. That's not the coldest I've ever been in; it's not close to hypothermia-inducing; plus, I noticed that it was the lowest number on the whole week of predicted numbers. I felt reassured (illogically). Maybe morbid curiosity is outdated, but it still gave me something to take my mind off shivering while waiting for the train home.

Can you feel luck coming?

I feel like this week is going to be lucky in terms of outcomes for my writing submissions. I don't know where this optimistic perception comes from. Certainly not from my horoscope, which I know not to believe, but only read for a bit of fun. Saturday's said basically that people won't take me seriously this week. My first response was, 'Piss off, stupid negative horoscope!' And Sunday's told me that I should channel my angst about it all not working into a journal which would become the first chapter of a new book. Two thoughts occured to me after reading this: first, that all pisceans must be writing books; two, that that would be a lame and boring way to start a book. Maybe, just maybe, people who write horoscopes don't know much about writing (or the future?). So, I will focus on feeling lucky this week and see what eventuates.

Burgers are why I couldn't be a vegetarian

The other day I had a really tasty burger at a new local place. They grind actual steak, they bake their own gluten free buns, they top it with whatever you like (I had camembert and mushrooms, my husband had beetroot and caramelised onion) and the result is delicious. We've been eating vegetarian at home for the past few months, which has been really good. It feels healthy, less expensive and better environmentally to not eat meat. Then, the other day I had a craving for a really yummy burger. It's happened before too when I've dabbled in vegetarianism. I don't know why burgers are my weakness. I know they're not the epitome of culinary meat-arts. So two things come out of this: 1) I can recommend a really good, new local burger place (if you live in the same city as me); and 2) I will accept myself as a 90% vegetarian (which probably means not telling people I am, except here where it's anonymous, because often people say you can't be vegetarian by halves, or thereabouts).

Wavering self-belief

I had a flash of self-doubt or an absence of ambition or something this week. It was rather like a dizzy spell. It came on and suddenly I thought, 'What if I can't be a writer?' I had the horrible feeling that I had been wasting my spare time for the past two years and was wasting this year of leave (from full-time work). I dreaded deeply (and still do) the possibility of never being published after putting in so much work to write my stories. After the spell was over, like dizziness, there was a lingering wisp of unsureness about myself and my choices. Then I went to work at the arts college and I walked into a film and television production class. The lecturer was saying, by coincidence, 'You have to make the film because until you do you're not a filmmaker. You don't know that you can do it, until you do it.' That statement restored my self-belief and optimism. They still waver occasionally, but I think that's natural and probably healthy - though why it's healthy I'll have to explore some other time.

The benefits of Higher Education

I was reflecting on the differences between my new job working with late teens and adults at a technical college and my previous job of teaching children in a public school classroom. The benefits are many! I don't have to sit on the floor or use paint, papier maché or liquid glue, which means I can wear decent clothes to work. Also, I can have food, get a drink, use the bathroom or get fresh air when I need it rather than waiting for a bell to ring. I actually feel like a self-determining adult for a change! Last Friday I almost told some students to watch their language and turn their music down, but I stopped myself because they are also adults, surrounded by adults, who can manage their own behaviour. And yesterday I ran a workshop for which I had ample time to prepare, students who were interested in the topic showed up, they thanked me afterwards and I won't have to meet with their parents or spend hours of my own time writing a report about each one! The new job is not entirely perfect; there are some personalities to deal with and some institutional ins and outs to navigate, but overall it's quite a positive change.

Graduation!

The other night my husband and I graduated from marriage counselling. She said we had done exceptionally well, so well, in fact, that she wished she had filmed our sessions to use in training. So, after showing us two final maintenance techniques we were sent on our way. We have come to a place of greater communication with more openness and honesty and creativity between us. It's not necessarily going to be all calm, easy floating along on the gentle ripples of life, but at least now we should have the tools and knowledge to batten down the hatches when we need to.

To finish or not to finish?

I am reading a brick-sized book at the moment and I think I'm almost defeated. I used to have a rule that I had to finish any book I started, but when I told my mum about it she pointed out that there are so many great books out there, why spend time reading not-great ones. Now I'm getting bogged down in the middle of an enormous tome. I enjoy most of the book, but there are a litany of reasons I'm starting to give myself not to continue: I've renewed it twice already, I don't really care about any of the characters, I don't feel like I'm learning anything (personal or about writing) from the book, it's so big that I can't read it in bed, I've read another quick book just for a break from the drama of this book and I have a book club book I'm supposed to read. But then this little, stubborn voice says, 'You don't want to give up on it, do you?' In principle I like finishing things I start, even if they have no greater significance than my own principles. In this case that's kind of annoying.

Adults-only menu

My husband and I did something fun the other night, which I would recommend to other couples. It was homework from the counsellor, but was more enticing than what she generally gives us to do. Perhaps the best assignment ever. She was making a point about how couples often have a fairly limited repertoire of 'moves', which can lead to boredom and lack of appreciation and creativity together. So, she challenged us to write down twenty intimate activities that fall between individual fantasy/daydreaming and that ultimate, culminating act (any and all activities, not just the ones you already do). I'm pleased to say that my husband and I got thirty ideas on our list and that it led naturally to talking about what we would like to make more of an effort to do for each other. The only thing that slightly diminished the romance of the moment was my husband's use of Excel to make the list (he's an accountant). There's nothing sexy about Excel, but it was organised.

Contingency upon contingency

This morning I was planning to ride my bike to work for the first time. I had psyched myself up and everything. However, when I went out back to get my bike, I found that the front tyre was completely flat. Since I didn't have time to pump it up and check how quick the leak was, I decided to take the tram. This made me angry because it was a really nice day and I had been looking forward to getting home quicker on my bike at the end of the day. After I had been waiting at the tram stop for about five minutes, I noticed that the approaching trams were not getting any closer than two stops away before heading back in the other direction. The notice board began to say, 'Service disruption, expect delays.' At first I thought this might make me very late for work and I got even angier, but then I reaslised all I could do was laugh. If I had seen this series of unlikely coincidences happen in a sit-com, I would have said it was unrealistic. Who has two incidents of such bad luck happen in the same morning? So, shaking my head in disbelief, I walked home, got in my car (feeling thankful my husband wasn't around to share it) and drove to work instead.

The moon and tacos

I'm thankful tonight for my view on my walk home from work and my dinner once I got home. As I was coming up the hill, not really paying attention, the moon came out from behind some clouds and looked silvery and spectacular. It's full or almost full; I love it when I catch a glimpse of it through the clouds at this time in its cycle. Then, when I got home I made veggie tacos. They turned out really yummy and I realised a huge bonus of vegetarian meals: they take a lot less time to make. So I guess my message for tonight is to look up, especially when there are clear patches in the clouds, and make vegetarian food, especially when dinner's going to be late.

____ makes the heart grow cold

I've been feeling unloving toward my husband the last few days. It's a very neutral feeling; it's not negative, like anger or aversion, as when he started revealing past misdemeanours in the process of dealing with our issues. Last weekend we went away together for my birthday, a surprise he had planned for me, and it was really nice and amicable. I think my lack of feeling for him comes from distance and the stress of my new job. The combination of him being away for so long now that I've create my self-sufficient lifestyle and my mind being occupied with getting my head around my work responsibilities has left a blankness where my affection should be. At first I was worried about it, but our counsellor has said that in the next session or two we will work on passion and intimacy so I will see what comes from that. Also, when all this relationship shit started I decided it wouldn't be accurate to make any final decisions while my husband was still working interstate so much of the time; it's so hard to get a feel for our modus operandi right now.

Significance

I don't know why my mind insists on adding significance to things - it's tiring. I was really excited about starting my new job so I began thinking about how this might be the next new direction for my teaching career. Then, today I'm having nerves so I worry that something will happen and the job will fall through. Something similar happens when my husband calls from interstate, or comes home for the weekend. I have to remind myself to relax and let us have a normal time together rather than making it feel important. When I get tired and headachy, suddenly my brain suspects it's a migraine. I guess I need to work on accepting that my mind does this and try to just be in the current moment - easier said than done, though.

Patience pays off

I have been looking for a job for about two months, alternately sending out resumes to only great-sounding, perfect jobs and sending them out to anything that I think I could do. I hadn't had many responses, and I put it down to trying to change career paths. Finally, a week and a half ago I got a call from a private college where I had applied at back in January. I didn't get the original office administration position, but they wondered if I would be interested in student support services. I am, so I had an interview last week, references checked this week, now a job offer and I will start next week. This comes at the perfect time since I was beginning to think I would need to start emergency teaching if nothing came through soon. Also, the hours of this job overlap with the tutoring hours I was going to do, but I'm happy with that because I was becoming less enthusiastic about being a 'private contractor' with the associated ABN and liability insurance paperwork and expenses. This new job feels like it could be a rewarding direction for my teaching career to go in, while also allowing time for writing.

Long time no post

I haven't posted in quite a while for a combination of reasons: I've been waiting to hear about a job prospect, then I planned to post on how it serendipitously came about; I've been madly editing my novel so I can send it out to agents and publishers; and I've had a few small wonderings and gratitudes, but self-doubt has told me they weren't important enough to write a post about. So, now I'm here and I'm going to try to ignore all that.
This morning I'm going to expound the virtues of having a go-to pancake recipe. I have mine pretty much memorised so I know at a glance if I have all the ingredients. I can assemble it without much effort, even before coffee or mimosas are made in the morning. And, I know intuitively how long the pancakes cook so I rarely burn them anymore. It has taken years to get to this stage, but until I thought about it just now I didn't really appreciate what a useful thing having a personal pancake recipe is. Now today's holiday Monday pancakes are just about done, so I'm off to enjoy them. Happy Labour Day, Aussies!

'Alternative' therapies

Tonight I am extremely thankful for the unexpected benefits of 'alternative' therapies. (I put it in quotes because I think it's silly that traditional, non-pharmaceutical, Eastern or other similar treatments are considered alternatives.) I saw my chiropractor, then had acupuncture, which finished with a little bonus Chinese massage. I've had positive results in the past treating my migraines with the combination of chiropractic and acupuncture. Today, I went into their office dizzy, as I've been for weeks; and I left without dizziness! I don't know which of the treatments finally calmed my head, but I don't care. My head isn't swimming and fuzzy for a change! I'm interested to see if I wake up tomorrow with any dizziness or not. Whether I do or not, I've enjoyed an afternoon and evening of unprecedented steadiness.

If you don't try...

I think I learned something yesterday: if you don't put yourself out there, then you miss opportunities. I had a call from a potential employer to whom I'd sent my CV six weeks ago. I wasn't right for the initial job, but a new one, that is right up my ally, has arisen and she thought of me! I should know more in a week or two when someone else comes back from leave so for now it's a matter of patience. I'm going to try to apply this lesson (similar to 'ask and ye shall receive') when I do this week's marriage counsellor homework. The homework is to write three needs that we each want the other person to help us meet and the behaviours they can do to meet them. I was censoring my ideas because I kept thinking, 'my husband won't want to do that....' I'm going to try writing my needs down and see what comes of it.

A quiet life

I am living a very quiet life at the moment, particularly on days when my husband is out of the state for work. This doesn't mean that I'm not doing anything. Most days I do chores around the house, get groceries, write, send out stories to publishers, go to class, do homework, job hunt, maybe see a friend or two, do yoga or go for a walk, etc. But when I'm at home the house is silent except for conversations between the cat and I, or when the TV is on. Also, there is very little stress and drama in my life right now, especially since my husband and I are trying to work on things and I'm not dreading negative interactions. This is not meant as complaint or boasting; this is to remind myself that this is what I need. This reminder is timely because the other day I caught myself wondering if I was bored, now I realise I wasn't, I just wasn't feeling stressed. I know soon enough stress will probably re-enter my life when I get a part-time job and start doing assessments for class, and that's probably not a bad thing up to a point. For now though, this is a reminder to myself to enjoy my quiet life while I have it. Maybe once life returns to a more normal pace, I can capture pockets of quietness that feel like this.

The Curious Incident of the Rain in the Nighttime

Last night I was lying in bed too hot to sleep when I suddenly heard the plink-plunk of rain. As I lay there listening to it, I was reminded of many other nights that I have spent in bed listening to rain play music on the metal roof outside the window. Then I started thinking about storms I heard from my bed as a child. I loved being tucked up safe and warm listening to the wind and rain lash our little wooden house. I would imagine I was living on my own in our huge maple tree so that I was fully surrounded by the storm, but protected by the big tree. Last night's rain didn't last long, but it was enough to remind me of the curious timelessness of rain heard in the night. And, it cooled the air down enough that I finally got some sleep.

Homework

For Valentine's Day we saw the marriage counsellor and she assigned us several pieces of homework. They will make the next several days that my husband is in town, and the next two weeks before we see her again, enlightening and hopefully fun. Firstly, we need to catch each other doing the right thing and overtly praise each other. She said this could even get to the point of ridiculousness; the point is to rebuild goodwill. Secondly, we are to watch out for falling into our normal negative interactions and behaviour patterns and record when this happens. Thirdly, when we notice a negative interaction beginning we each need to try to use genuine I-statements to break the cycle. This will likely be easier said than done, but I'm interested to see how it goes. Then, as we were about to leave she said, 'go and have fun this weekend. What do you do for fun?' That simple question revealed that there have developed some gaps in our knowledge of each other's likes and dislikes. For example, when put on the spot, I couldn't confidently name my husband's favourite colour. I know I could at one stage in our relationship, but I've forgotten. So, our last piece of homework, that she added, is to revisit some of those early-relationship questions. I'm really looking forward to getting to know my husband again and I hope he feels the same way. That sounds like a bit of silly wish after such a long time together, but obviously it's become necessary.

The reveal

My husband and I are seeing a relationship counsellor to try to salvage our marriage and get it back on track. Tonight, after seeing us individually, she will share the thoughts and feelings that simmer behind our negative interactions. Once in the open, we can start to overcome our uncommunicative behaviour patterns, I guess. I'm feeling a mix of curiosity and nervousness about the process. I was interested to learn in my session with her yesterday that I feel stifled and voiceless when an issue arises which my husband disagrees with (or that I think he will). I wonder how he's feeling during our conflicts and when I shut down and walk away. I am ready, now though, to claim my voice and be who I know I am, but even so there's a little voice in the back of my mind warning me: 'what if I hurt his feelings with something I say...' and 'what if I say something dumb/illogical that can be ridiculed...'. I'll have to risk that, and the gain to myself and our relationship will be worth it.

Being in today

Today has a feeling of rightness about it. It feels like the first day in weeks that I'm not sick or recovering, although I'm not quite 100% (I can't explain that contradiction). I conquered several anxieties this morning by being mindful and brave: I sent a flash fiction story to a publisher and called a job prospect. Then, this afternoon I went for a long walk, the most exercise I've done in weeks (aside from the sad attempt at tennis my husband and I engaged in on the weekend). My walk felt like what I was meant to be doing. Nothing momentous happened on the walk, I didn't have any epiphanies, but it was healthy and mindful. So I am trying to gently hold to this feeling of me being as I should be.

One ear is never enough

I was going to come on here and lament my continuing difficulty of recovering from the ear infection. This time the frustration of having only one really working ear. In the last two days, since I've started venturing out again on foot (no driving for me yet) I've felt like I've been walking on an angle and it's disconcerting not to have surround sound when crossing the road. Then last night I was noticing how difficult it is to have a conversation with someone when I'm not sitting near them, looking at them. That will make this weekend with my husband at home one of many repeated sentences, I fear. But I realise I shouldn't be whinging (I said months ago I wouldn't do that here). I should be glad I still have one working ear! Also I have the hope, still, that this will clear up and not prove permanent.

Hot and sweaty

I'm not really a fan of sweat, but in the last twenty-four hours I've thought of a redeeming quality of sweat. It makes things more intense, passionate and... legitimate, somehow. Let me demonstrate: If you're playing sport of on a cold day so that pushing yourself to do that extra rep or hit those last two tennis balls doesn't leave you sweaty, then it doesn't feel like quite as effective a workout. Or, it's summer right now so our bedroom was hot last night when we went to bed, which pleasantly added to the sweatiness of things, without a lot of added effort (which I still don't have the energy for yet). And, when you're making Ikea furniture, just screwing the legs on a table is not the same as working up a sweat trying to attach the farfuloonga to the versnook while someone else hold up the kerploot, if you know what I mean. With sweat you feel like you've done a real DIY job. That being said, my hot walk to Coles to get groceries just now was not any more rewarding because of the sweat, so alas it doesn't work for everything.

Unexpectedness

Tonight I am grateful for two things that happened that were completely unexpected. Firstly, I got five hours of sleep overnight, then another one and a half hours after breakfast this morning. The difference in my mood, energy level and overall outlook, compared to three hours of sleep, is enormous. Secondly, I went out for dinner with friends to a renowned local dumpling place. I expected to have a rice dish while the others enjoyed dumplings because of my wheat allergy. As it turned out, the restaurant had gluten free dumplings marked on their menu so I was able to gorge on the little pockets of tastiness as well. This has been the best day I've had in a week and a half; things are looking up!

Vampires

I always sort of admired vampires for their insomnia. I figure they must get so much done! No wonder they all speak many languages, have acquired artistic skills in painting or music and have amassed great wealth; what else would you do with your time while everyone else was sleeping? (Other than suck blood, obviously.) Well, I'm beginning to feel a bit like a vampire. The medication I'm on is causing me insomnia - at best I sleep from about midnight to 3am, that's it. After several nights, I'm feeling like a bit of a soulless monster for the parts of the day when lack of sleep catches up on me. And, at night I'm getting lots of reading, some writing, knitting and other pursuits accomplished at an amazing rate. I'm so tired, though, that I can't appreciate it. No wonder vampires are pale, vicious, unpredictable and often miserable-looking. I am too.

Writing is like knitting

I know other blogs have covered this topic, but here's my take on it. I got thinking about the comparison since recently taking up knitting after a year or two off to focus on writing and getting through my day job in the classroom. Now with a week or so of recuperation time on my hands, it seemed like a good time to pick up the needles again. So I was noticing that when I start a new piece of knitting, as with writing a story, I have a vague idea of its shape, where it might go, but that's about all. I don't know how it's going to turn out until I actually get to the end. I often have to stop and restart a few times to get the look and feel right. Plus, with both activities there's always the need to find the extra motivation at the end to go back and weave in all the loose threads so it doesn't look scruffy even though all you want to do is bask the feeling of accomplishment from having actually completed something that looks vaguely like a scarf or story.
(P.S. If you're interested in those other blogs, ask and I can point you to them; I just shut all the tabs before capturing the addresses, sorry - it is midnight.)

The best things...

'The best things in life are free' is an old cliché, but this morning its truth rings especially true for me.

Things that are free (or virtually) that I am greatly appreciative of right now:

• lying in a warm bed with a cat sleeping on my feet and lightly snoring husband beside me
• fresh toast with melting butter in a dark kitchen
• sitting in the sun (later)

Things that I will appreciate soon when I'm a little more recovered:

• cooking a homemade meal and savouring it slowly
• getting lost in a book (or movie) for hours at a time
• sleeping all the way through the night in a comfortable position
• driving out to the mountains and going for a long solitary walk

Let's make this a little interactive. What would you add to the list? 

Fresh hell

(This post was drafted on Jan. 30th or 31st, but I was too sick to post it until now.)

'Oh, what fresh hell is this?' (or some variation thereof) ~ Dorothy Parker

I have learned, from having this blasted inner ear infection, how to do several new things. Or, more precisely, do old things in a new way. For example, I've learned to brush my teeth with my right (non-dominant) hand, take a shower sitting down and sleep sitting up. That last one I haven't fully mastered, and probably never will. I also managed to eat soup with my right hand because of an IV attached to my left. I have spent more hours over the last week sitting doing nothing, but without being bored, than I thought humanly possible; this gives me fresh insight into meditation practices. So, as a positive takeaway from this illness I would recommend trying to do something mundane with your opposite hand or much slower than you usually do it; it will make you notice and appreciate the activity more (and you may find the result funny or messy).

Cosmological cliché

(This was drafted on Jan. 28th, but I was too sick to post it until now.)

I've been sick for the last few days: vertigo to the point where I can hardly move, nausea and ear ringing. At one stage when I was bemoaning the unfairness of it all, I started thinking that maybe it happened on a sunny, long weekend for a reason. Maybe I got sick to remind me of something: perhaps not to take a healthy body for granted; or that I can't always be a self-sufficient, independent woman just because I want to be; that it's nice to be looked after by your husband sometimes; or maybe even to remind my husband it feels good to be needed; or to show him what it's like to entertain himself for a weekend. Then it occurred to me that it's a bit far fetched for the huge, swirly cosmological consciousness (or coincidence) to reach down and anoint my puny human ear with infinitesimal microbes for some grander purpose. Probably life's just unfair, ear infections suck and 'it happens for a reason' is something we puny humans tell ourselves to feel better about it all.

The anonymity of new friends

I had a surprisingly good lunch today with a relatively new friend. It was surprising in two senses. One, the Vietnamese food was really tasty, yet cheap; and two, we had a very honest, open, personal conversation. I know this girl from my writing course and this is the first time we've got together outside of class. I was slightly worried that we wouldn't have much to talk about throughout lunch since we don't know each other very well, but the opposite proved true. We skipped a lot of typical getting-to-know topics, which can be quite boring and moved quite naturally to talking very personally about our families, partners, work frustrations and plans for the future. My theory is that because we don't know each other's partner, friends or colleagues, and are somewhat unlikely to meet them in the near future, we felt safe to be very open. It was a really nice lunch and I appreciate her taking her lunch hour to share it with me.

Uninspired = uninspiring?

I feel like my writing over the past week or two has been quite lacklustre. I can see this in the last few blog posts (thank you to people who are still reading) and in the fact that I haven't written anything new in almost two weeks. Luckily I have enough on the go that I can plan and research a new novel as well as revise some short stories. I think the cause is relationship stress, job hunting stress, summer heat.... I feel like I'm lacking creative inspiration. I know from past experience that something will come to me when the time is right. Then, last night when I wasn't sleeping, I started reviewing what the purpose of this blog was. Was my intention to write incredible, insightful posts for readers? Or, was my purpose to reflect and process my own thoughts (without wasting paper)? I think I want both - 40:60. So, please bare with me while I'm feeling creatively flat; contribute positive thoughts, questions and ideas if you want to in the comment section; and follow your passion (for lack of anything less cliched and more inspired to end with).

Reminders and Goals

Today I opened a new bank account just for me. My husband and I have had a joint account for several years because when he was working and I wasn't it was easier to manage finances and get a credit card. Now, in light of marriage issues and my hope that I'll have writing income at some point this year, it makes sense for me to have my own account. It seems appropriate that the account is called the GoalSaver. Opening it is a reminder for me that once upon a time I was an independent, self-sufficient woman and that I could be again, if need be.

Empathy

Maybe this is really obvious, but tonight I'm thinking about how living a bad (or not-so-nice) experience is a good way to have a better understanding of what others have to deal with. This evening I played tennis in forty degree heat (by choice), but it's made me have some understanding of how hard it is on the Australian Open competitors right now. Also, it makes me think about the extremes athletes put themselves through in pursuit of their goals, in general. This also applies to our current marriage troubles, which are pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. However, they still take an emotional toll and I can empathize better with people who have had to put on a brave face while dealing with marriage turmoil.

Lessons from life's stresses

I just realised it's been several days since I've written anything on here; it's actually been several days since I've even thought about Blogger. Firstly, on the weekend I was focussed on spending time away with my husband. We had a nice time, but also had some serious talks. Then, the next two days were been dominated by worry, grieving, planning and stress interspersed with trying to be normal. I'm coming to terms with the possibilities that my marriage is ending (more importantly the whole fourteen and half year relationship, only six of which were marriage) and that in two weeks I will have no income. I have been weighing up what to do and beginning to process the loss. Since I am a compulsive planner, I think perhaps the lesson I'm supposed to take from this particular time is that things will happen in their own good time.

To challenge or to support, that is the question

I am wondering whether it's better to be challenging or supportive. My husband has said he wants to feel challenged to be better, whereas I would prefer supportiveness in our relationship. To me, to challenge my partner to do something sounds like I think they're not necessarily going to be able to do it without my urging. But if I support them to do something, it's more like I know they can do it and I'm standing beside them cheering them on. A challenge is 'I'll make you do it'; being supportive is 'I'll help you to do your best, but love you either way'. I think it sounds better and more stable to say I'm in a supportive relationship than to say I'm in a challenging one. I like this definition of "support" from my Apple dictionary: 'be actively interested in and concerned for the success of'. This is a nice way of summing up "to challenge": 'to invite (someone) to do something that one thinks will be difficult or impossible' ( thanks again, Apple dictionary). Maybe it's all just a matter of opinion, which doesn't really solve anything, does it.

Routine

I am a person who needs routine, I've decided. I know that sounds boring, and possibly stifling for some people. Maybe it comes from having been a teacher for so long and being told when do to things by a bell (which is not natural - why do we do that to kids?). I have only achieved my writing goal one out of the last three days so I am implementing a routine from today. I will try not to be so rigid with it that I can't take advantage of opportunities that arise, but I'm hoping it will help me get what I want out of my time. My routine will roughly be: to use the morning, when I first wake up for Rocket Writing, then proper writing or editing for two hours. After that I can see people, volunteer, work, do classes, mop the floor, all those other fun things in life. We'll see how it goes.

Pampering equals not productive

It was a lovely morning this morning because I had a gift card for a long spa treatment. I got a massage, facial and manicure, none of which I have indulged in, in ages. The only problem is that I was silly enough to expect to get things done in the afternoon. I managed about forty-five minutes of editing yesterday's writing and some baking. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening feeling unproductive, alternating between guilt at not meeting my day's writing/job hunting goals and foolish for even thinking I would get things done after such a blissful, relaxing morning. I was warned about a month ago, by someone very wise, that this year didn't need to be all about being productive every minute and that I would need to come to terms with that unhelpful thought pattern. This might have been the first skirmish between being and doing.

Doing work you love

Today was a great first day of work, although I don't know if or when I'll be paid for it. In my head it was the first day when writing is a job rather than just a hobby. I have yet to be paid any money for my writing and therefore, also spent time today job hunting, but it was a very fulfilling day. I wrote for more than two hours this morning, completing a rough draft, then spent time writing content for my brother's website. I was worried it would be stifling to have to sit writing for a set period of time in the morning and to think of it like work, but it was energising to be doing work I love again. I recommend it to everyone.

Something for everyone

We went camping this weekend and, although it was painful sleeping on the ground and a little lacking in mod-cons, I think we all got something out of it. My husband got a long drive in the car he doesn't get to use much since he's working away. I got to go to a beach I've wanted to visit for a long time, then fall asleep listening to the ocean crash and wake up to bush birds chirping. We hung out with friends who are moving away soon, we saw a seal sunning itself on the beach, we played beach cricket (I lost horrendously) and we swam in the ocean to cool off during a heatwave. Thanks to all that, now I'm looking forward to going to sleep in my bed on a proper mattress tonight (alongside cat and husband is an added bonus too).
On a slightly different note: tomorrow marks the end of holidays. My husband goes back to work interstate and I begin treating writing as a job rather than a fun hobby. I am writing this to try and hold myself to my plan of at least two productive hours of writing per day, six days per week.

Need, desire, consumerism, oh my!

Last night, when I wasn't sleeping, but should have been, I noticed something strange. I was in that tired, but slightly delusional state of awareness that comes with lying awake in the middle of the night and having a hyperactive brain. I was sick of thinking about getting a job (it turns out I'm quite stressed about that, although while awake during the day I'm not really aware of how much it bothers me) so was trying to breathe slowly and deeply and meditate myself into a calmer state. Suddenly I noticed an uncomfortably strong feeling of need, of lacking something. I decided that since I wasn't doing anything else more useful, like sleeping, I would lie quietly and observe the feeling. I eventually figured out that it was accompanied by a bunch of thoughts about what I could buy tomorrow if I went out shopping, none of which I actually needed. Then I started thinking about things I could get to fill the hole of desire I felt, if I got up. Maybe I was thirsty or hungry. Maybe my need was aesthetic: I could go look at the night sky. Maybe I wanted to play with the cat. Watching all these thoughts was fascinating and, yes, strange. I started to think that if this feeling came over people really strongly or when they were out at shops or had just been paid, especially if they weren't really aware of it and just acted on it, then that might be the impetus for a lot of shopping sprees (i.e. consumerism). Gradually the feeling and thoughts went away and I fell back to sleep. It did occur to me this morning that it might have been more useful to observe and diffuse the stress that had been keeping me awake initially than this little spurt of late-night shopping impulse. I'll try to do better next time (and this is what I meant yesterday about self improvement being more work than home improvement).

Home improvement

I reckon home improvements are a good way to start a new year. You feel like you've had a bit of a new beginning, and it's less fraught than self improvement. Often when trying to make some aspect of yourself better it brings up guilt for past failings, anxiety about whether you're doing it correctly, maybe even a maternal-like nagging inner voice. But with home improvement, you can put in a day or two of physical work, which in itself can be repetitively meditative, and immediately see a tangible difference. Also, there's less second guessing, at least in our case. I am pleased to say that our white bathroom door and window frame look much cleaner and lighten up the whole tiny, little room.