I’m sitting wracking my brains about what to write, so instead of waste any further time I’ll just dive in and see what pops out. Oh yes, Kate’s five words. Let me grab those from the email she sent me and I’ll do a bit of stream of consciousness.

Right, here they are then:

introspect

sea

color (colour)

St. Petersburg (yes, I know it’s a place…but just go with the feeling)

choice

Okay, introspect. Well, that’s something I’ve been doing for a long, long time. When I was young I was a little bit ‘Aspergers’, I was also an only child, lets just say that while I wasn’t painfully odd, I wasn’t as good as the kids everyone liked when it came to social interaction. I said it how it was, I didn’t tolerate foolishness, lying, evasion, pretence etc. I was as straight as a dye. I didn’t really understand other people’s feelings that well either – in the sense that I expected everyone to have similar reactions to me, and they just plain didn’t. I was logical, somewhat cold, funny and capable of being warm, but, like I say, I didn’t suffer stupidity and melodrama and all the social ‘pretending’ that goes on in a girls school. At a certain point I remember very clearly being told by a friend (ahem) that I was the girl everyone loved to hate and that also I had a habit of being very hurtful. I wasn’t aware that I was hurting anyone, but I hated the thought of it (the extent to which I was is questioned by other friends from the time). I realised, if anything was going to change that I was going to have to heed my mothers advice and, ‘think before you speak’.

So I literally did, I spent a huge amount of time after that (some time around age 11), considering the impact of my words, the exact meanings that could be taken from them, whether a better choice would be more understandable based on the person I was talking to, if their temperament would lead them to put on a particular show once I’d (unwittingly) given them the ammunition. I thought and thought and thought about words, reactions, emotions and my relationship with others through those words, I learned a lot through that analysis of myself and others, about psychology and patterns as much as words, it’s all patterns anyway. Remember, I’m writing this as a stream of consciousness, ordinarily I’d be reading back through it to make sure it was clearer.

So, anyway, I know I was introspective before that, but that one thing always sticks out in my mind as part of the reason I am the way I am today, why I am so careful in my phrasing, why I know so much about what makes other people tick, what goes on in their minds. I don’t say that in a horribly big headed way, it’s just one thing I’m comfortable about praising myself for, insight into others, and I know I got there through my own introspection.

Okay, the sea. Rohinton Mistry comes into my mind straight away, there is an amazing little passage in Such a Long Journey where he talks about tears and the sea – needless to say, typical me, I remember the gist but not the exact thing. I love being near the sea, I don’t feel like I was in Dublin. Why do I love it? It’s no more simple that just how it looks, what it feels like to be near it (physically and emotionally), the immenseness of it, the power. The sound. I love it at night too, when you can imagine the water is ink, crashing on granite, tips and trails and flecks that are whiter in my memory than they could ever be under any moon however bright. I wrote the start of a story when I was a child which began, or centred around a little abandoned harbour we had visited one night on the Isle of Mann on holidays when I was a child. I called the lead character Jean because of it’s link with denim and the fact that it could be both male and female – I wished my name was like that.

Anyway, the little harbour, it was pitch black the night we went there, to an old pub playing what felt to me like trad Irish music, but what was probably Manx. I remember we went for a walk (there were no lights, only the moon), and I was terrified that one of them would slip. I remember trying to be brave and pretend I wasn’t afraid of the caves to the right of the harbour. The stony bare rugged cliffs in my minds eye are so high around this tiny harbour – and I remember feeling sorry for it, that it had been let go. I always felt sorry for places that were neglected – I felt that it was the wrong thing, a waste, a disrespect, it might not feel wanted, if indeed it had a means to feel one way or the other. There were bats and I could escape my fear by bragging and holding my relative calm up against my mothers strong negative reaction to them. I think I wanted my father to know I was like him, unafraid of wildlife, he had a rural background you see. I remember looking out of the back of the window at the harbour as we drove away, the moon in the back window, between the headrests, the old red tartan blanket for Penny, our dog, under my chin – I held my head there imprinting it on my memory because I knew it was magical, that black sea and moon, and I wanted to keep it. I now I realise I did.

Thanks Kate, I’ll do the rest tomorrow hopefully.
Night all, x

Well, we got some groceries. Dear lord, I’m becoming American. We went to the shops, is what I meant to say, obviously. We ate a delicious minestrone soup which used up loads of crap from the fridge (the best kind). We watched Top Gear. I spent far too much time on Twitter.

Amazing how sometimes when you do so very little you find yourself so very tired at the end of it.

Night all, x

I don’t even want to know how many days I’ve gone unintentionally not posting. I went into uber study mode on the whole animal rights/abolitionist thing (not the same thing as scary crustys blowing up things etc. closer to the work I did in college on equality/critical theory actually) and lost track of time every evening for the guts of the last week. Also, I’ve been obsessing about something I can’t write about on the public blog but don’t have anywhere near enough energy left to write about at the secret clubhouse Perhaps tomorrow. My brain is in collection/absorption mode, not relating mode. However, Kate (K&J Kate) did send me a lovely set of words to do some free-association/ stream of consciousness writing on…again, perhaps tomorrow.

I started twittering as well, if any of the rest of you are into it. I don’t 100% get it yet, I’m tweeting and I’m following but I’m still a little unclear about ‘retweeting’ and other etiquette issues. I’ll tell you though, it’s a fun little tool and I wish I could slip it into a side bar here coz it’s great for getting an idea of what’s going around in someones mind. I love how it puts me in touch with (and give clearer insight into the thinking process/types of people), members of the movements I’m studying. I just find it wonderful to be able to have that kind of personal insight into people who’s ideas and writings are so exciting – usually when you study somebody they’re a bit of a disembodied voice. You might read up on their bio or whatever, but you don’t normally get to have any kind of real time insight into what they’re thinking about/up to in an evening.

Sorry about all the dashes/slashes (!), I’m just so tired.

Right, to bed, Fred…

Night all, x

Oh, I’m tweeting as louphoria… maybe http://twitter.com/louphoria will get you to my page? I’m not sure if you need to have an account yourself and far too commited to the notion of cool pillow on face to find out right now.

Ooogity-boogity-woogity, I’m knackered. That nasty little weird sinus infection is digging it’s heels in and after a brief respite it’s back to making my face painful today. That’s all it does, there’s no gunge, particularly, just pain in various places on the right side of my face. Stress = rundown, like I said the day before.

Work is proceeding nicely on the new blog, I have lots left to do but it’s coming together and looking good, I do believe. I’m excited about it, but nervous too. The perfectionist in me frets that it wont be good enough, probably because the perfectionist in me wont be truly satisfied even if it is perfect.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually, my perfectionism. I was reading in that lovely book, The Call by Oriah Mountain Dreamer (sounds really flakey but it is a very worthwhile read for anyone interested in spiritual matters/meditation etc.), about how one word can become so much a symbol for who you are, what you’ve learnt the hard way and what you can teach the world because you’ve had to learn it the hard way. For me I think the word is imperfect. I think I need to learn a lot about letting things just be imperfect sometimes. I think my problem is how I flog myself with it, if I just accepted that it would be okay if it wasn’t entirely perfect than maybe I would get even closer to perfection by not being so negative with myself. Sorry, unwieldy sentence, but there you are, screw it.

Beautiful thunder and lightening here today. I was meditating during the second bout and because I was sitting in such stillness and silence I actually felt the electricity in my brain, I kid you not, a little ripple of focused, headache like pain rippled across my brain just before the biggest bang. I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation but it’s an interesting experience. I mean, when you’re just doing your normal things you may well register that you’ve felt something – but it had a different quality and intensity for me this evening. Everything is in such sharp relief after the storm, the clouds look like cartoons, the blues and navys and steels are so luminous, the contrast of the leaves outside the window is so stark, everything so defined. Perhaps it’s something to do with our proximity to the sea here but it always seems to happen after a thunder storm – all the colours really ‘pop’, things look slightly surreal, a touch psychedelic. Benny noticed it too, so it’s not just me being a whacky bastard.

Anyway, off to the couch to relax. Then maybe a little more tinkering with the new site. Fun!

Night all, x

Very little to report. Well, little concrete. I uncovered a cesspit of overlooked negativity and compulsive mental activity yesterday, which I’m trying to digest very slowly today. We do war with the reality of who we are, don’t we? Always trying to stay a step ahead of turning and facing the niggles that we brush away and logic out of existence. But they don’t go away, they tug and they pull and they tire you out until finally you end up in a shitty, do-nuthin mood which forces you to realise there’s something wrong. Or maybe I’m just thinking about the last couple of days and writing it as if it’s a grand insight.

It wasn’t that bad. But I have been pushing myself in the mental energy department and it’s showing on my body, as it usually does. A weird sinus infection (sharp pain, sore eyelid, odd thing), a collection of horrible teenage spots on my chin and another irritation not for polite conversation. It’s making me feel a bit sorry for myself. I do little when I feel sorry for myself. As I mentioned earlier this week, when the ’shoulds’ pile up, I just don’t want to do anything. I picture myself throwing my arms up and collapsing until seated on the ground. When I play back that image I see myself fall to a meditation position. Not a bad idea. Shame it’s so hard to make myself do it. Another should.

Anyway, I’m whingy. No one needs whingy on a Sunday night.

I made a really interesting dinner tonight, I breaded and fried up some marinated soy scallops (sounds weird but they were good, from the Polish section of Tesco no less), creamy-cheese style pasta salad with steamed asparagus (and Kalamata olives for me, I just love that word, Kalamata), and a broccoli, carrot, onion and peanut slaw-like salad (my own silken tofu mayo),  and chips, because I was feeling whingey. The scallops and broccoli salad were served in a wholemeal pita. I wasn’t sure when I was putting it all together if it would work, but it did with bells on. I’m still stuffed three hours later.

Oops, got caught up in conversation and now it’s bed time

*total typo, should read escallopes…the comments explain further.

I found myself hunched at my desk a lot today, leaning forward, shoulders in a knot, intent on something and with such a feeling of urgency. The urgency of ‘I must get done’, ‘I must do’, ‘I’m not doing what I should be doing so I’ll do this quickly’. But then when I pull back from the screen and try to look at the notepad to organise myself into what I ’should’ be doing, the concentration wont come. I stand up, do a tiny bit and still feel rushed, disorganised, ‘is this what I”m supposed to be doing’?.

I’ve realised that a lot of it is to do with the fluorescent lights, they addle my brain, quite literally. They always have and at least I’m lucky now that I don’t get the headaches like I did in college where they were paired with large white walls and no natural light (no windows save for tiny little boxes with the blackout blinds permanently drawn). Google it if you’re interested, I’m certainly not the first to notice this. I recall, from the day I did a quick bit of research on it, that those on the autistic spectrum seem to be more susceptible to having a negative reaction – also something about it exacerbating ADD symptoms. That’s certainly what it feels like to me at times, particularly when I’m tired – I just bounce backwards and forwards between jobs and it takes an almighty effort of will or application of mantras/centering to get myself focused.

It just occurred to me that I may have written about this before on the day I found out about it – if I did, my apologies, it’s late and the light above me is an energy saver, which are apparently fluorescent as well.

Anyway. That hunched up, urgent feeling, I read something about it when I got home in a gorgeous book I’ve been reading very, very slowly (I like to digest each bit before moving on): I read about the difference between it and the feeling of gravity that indicates that I am being motivated from a more still and fully present alignment with the world around me.

Okay, I know, I have to explain that more, but I just realised I’ve left it way to late for bed and have an early start…more on this again.

Night all, x

How cool looking is this: http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap090713.html

Exercise update: two hour walk on Sunday night, nothing Monday, half hour ‘make it burn’ cycle tonight. When I got off the bike when we got home I felt like my muscles were twice their usual thickness. Benny tells me this is to do with lactic acid – bizarro feeling.

In other news, briefly, fabulous sunset tonight, pink, red, gold and orange, the sun was so golden it turned it’s path along the sea towards me into liquid gold. I love it when it does that.

Finished Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood. If you see it, read it. I wolfed it down over the last few days. I’m not going to sit here and wrestle out enough praise for it, it’s just seriously good.

Dinner was a massive bowl of Mexican-style scramble, with kidney beans, sweet corn, crunchy carrot, onion, hot sauce, tofu (crispied but still succulent from a light steaming, mmm), served with a pile of granary bread which I only discovered not to be vegan after I got it home. I’ll know for next time. What animal fatty acids need to be doing in granary bread is beyond me though.

I bought a few other kitchen gadgets in the last few days that I want to share with yee, but I still haven’t gotten down to doing a dedicated search for the memory card so I can use the SLR. That book was just too good. And Mraid was here, and so I had to wow her with my killer crispy-tofu-beany-cheezu club sandwich served with creamy basil and tomato pasta salad and les frites. Recipes to follow when I eventually get this farking website design finalised. Which I will. Unless I pick up another book like that one.

Right, bed. Today is ovah.

x

Of something we all already knew, let’s face it:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8147566.stm

We did a 17km cycle last night and I’m still alive today. Benny says that’s a conservative estimate. There were a lot of hills. I now know what ‘hitting the wall’ means – well, he tells me that’s what that ‘no thoughts’ zoning in and out thing is. Interesting. Not entirely unpleasant.

I know it may not seem like much to seasoned activity-lovin folks, but for me, 17km is a lot. I’m amazed I could do it and I’ve learnt a lesson in how we tell ourselves what we can and can’t do and the enormity of the effect that has.

Also, the day before yesterday I was writing about things I should do, and giving out to myself for not doing them etc. I subsequently read this:

“‘Should statements’ that are directed against yourself lead to guilt and frustration. Should statements that are directed towards other people or the world in general, lead to anger and frustration: ‘He shouldn’t be so stubborn and argumentative’.

Many people try to motiveate themselves with shoulds and shouldn’ts, as if they were delinquents who had to be punished before they could be expected to do anything. ‘I shouldn’t eat that doughnut.’ This usually doesn’t work because all these shoulds and musts make you feel rebellious and you get the urge to do just the opposite.”

Taken from “The Ten Forms of Twisted Thinking” from “The Feeling Good Handbook” by David D. Burns, M.D |c 1989 – and I hope he doesn’t mind me quoting it

Useful though, isn’t it?

Just spent another hour or two melting my head with web page design. See now, if only I could just paint it, take a photo and just plop it on the screen – that would work for me. The really shitty thing is that I just want to start writing it! But I don’t want to get off on a half-arsed foot, y’know – I mean, take a look around here, I don’t do much spring cleaning, once it’s done it’s done and it gets left that way for a long time, regardless of the whys and wherefors, that’s how it usually works with me.

I’m turning into my mother, that’s what it is. She takes forever to do things and now it seems I also take forever to do things. I have so many things that I’m supposed to do that I don’t do. Like, for starters, writing a list of the things that I don’t do. Is there some way to work the line ‘it wont do’ into this? There probably is, but I’m tired.

Anyway, long aul day in work today, unsettled because I was waiting of an inspection that never came (I didn’t read the date on the email properly, le sigh). I started Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace yesterday and it’s rather good so far. I also spent far too much time this evening trying to figure out what’s up with Joaquin Phoenix. His beauty is such that if I stare too long my heart wibbles and I feel like a Victorian lady who’s just seen something she shouldn’t for the first time in her life: a little faint, but nervously excited.

Quite aside from teenage silliness, he is one of my favourite actors and there’s just something about him as well that I resonate with, he’s got that particular brand of prowess, intensity and awkwardness that I know a little something about myself. You could say that’s projection, possibly it is, but people is people, and you spot the stuff you know through long introspection pretty easily. Yeah, I’d need a poem to say what I’m trying to say there, tough stuff to slam out in type when type just turns it into cardboard one dimensional pap. Hmm. Anyway, he appears to be acting strangely and I hope that it’s not born of unhappiness and if it is, may it lead him somewhere he needs to go. I wish I knew him so that I could help – I think that a lot. Why do I want to give out to myself for that impulse, surely that’s a good thing? But all I felt as I typed it was negativity towards myself – who’s voice from how many years ago is berating me still I wonder? I shall have to meditate on it.

That’s that so.

Right, random photo from my phone and then it’s off to the bed, book in hand: