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.