So much of the week is spent in a haze of wishing for the weekend, and here it is. Clock ticking on my wall (thats a lie, windowsill) marking the seconds of this day that I have clung to since the dawning of Monday. Soooo, I got up early to make the most of it, lagging now. Ran in the rain, sweat and rain drops merging to a sweet combination of cool heat, went to the shop for fresh bakery items; warm and throbbing through their paper wrappers – avoided eating them. Bought sunflowers, beautifully imperfect shiny-ness. Now I must consider what to make of the next 14 hours. tick tock tick tock.
So I’m nothing special, I truly believe this to be fact. What is it then that differentiates the way I feel about myself from somebody else who revels in themselves and, regardless of whatever anyone else may think of them, sees themselves as a fab specimen of humanity. I used to think it could be upbringing, but having siblings with a differing attitude from mine negates this (unless we go into the whole position within the family rigmarole, eldest child me in case you’re wondering). So is it a learned process?, and who the hell decided to teach me this little joy.
I don’t idly ask this question, I really want to know how to change, not to become an unbearable smug type, but you know to generally accept me for who I am. I can’t beat myself up forever, it’s not fun, it hurts those I love too. I get that if you have a talent or a passion you may find it easier to value yourself, but what of those of us that feel we are just normal (I wish!), how do we find some self belief from the little day-to-day things we do that are easily dismissible as ‘everybody can do them’. Ohhh I wish I knew.
Universal Secret No. 8
Just been rudely awoken by an aeroplane. It’s not as though it stole the duvet you understand, more it’s rumbling – I swear it paused above the house until it’s mission was complete.
So another feature point of the year, an anchor to mark our time and passing through this old thing called life. I have a few regrets, but none greater than the failure I was when my Father perhaps needed me most. I was useless and fearful and am still not sure I can ever be anything else in certain situations. My only hope is that I continue to live out my days in a manner that should the worst happen our dad’s or anyone we love will go knowing they were cherished.
Today, oh today, must find 3 positive things to say about today.
1. Its not Monday.
2. errmm I need to think,
The thing is not every day brings a happy moment or even a nod in that direction. It is not my lack of effort to make the best of the day that brings me down;hurdle, jump, hurdle, jump, hurdle, wait why am I the one jumping when others are nipping around the edge. Silly old me.
Toeing the line, being the rule follower and the nice one sometimes feels like a weakness. Surely this is wrong, when did the world change to this extent, or was it a fallacy that heady days where treating others as they would treat you ever even existed. Why are those doing the best for other people, being considerate and thoughtful left behind. Be nice and you run the risk of being taken advantage of, saying no isn’t something you’d do so lets ask you. Extra work, you don’t mind do you?
Well here’s the thing, yes I am nice, but yes I actually do mind. I mind each time you abuse my niceness, act after act erodes a little bit of my kind nature, each task that is placed onto my pretty broad shoulders with no thought for me weighs me down that little bit more. I like me, I like being nice, I wish other people would realise that they are changing me little by little and yes I do have a problem with this.
2. In eight hours today will be over.
3. Tomorrow could be different.
Its wet and rainy who’d have thought it on a Bank Holiday Monday. This has meant Ive brewed up a pot o’ tea and am hibernating in 10.5 togs with Saturday’s supplements (retro floral fabrics anyone). But this retreat has led me to wonder, I wonder what it is that differentiates one person from another. What allows one person to see the potential in a day regardless of its outfit, whilst another one feels its a nothing kind of day (guess which one I am?).
Perhaps my question is less what and more how. How does one change teams, can somebody please forward me the update to googlemaps with the secret hidden route from bed to life. Thank you, more tea?
Bank Holiday Weekend. Something that is like Christmas as an adult, you have a joy as it approaches, yet once it drags its infrequent bottom through your life once more I must ask, is it worth it?
Unlike Christmas there is not the distraction of presents nor a never ending parade of unneeded yet deliciously covered foodstuffs. For some reason the collation of After EIghts, family sized tins of chocs and nuts do not make it to the realms of the Bank Holiday Weekend. There is something misogynistic about days out for an unaccompanied female, I would cycle around a body of water or go for a country walk, but there is this invisible threat that the media has drummed into us. (Really, how many oddballs can there be, do they have a rota system to loiter in country parks etc?)
I am somewhat torn between a relief of a days grace from work, and the fear of the deferred workload from Monday. OK I admit it I’m bored. I have reverted to childhood and as for my lot? they are happily occupied. I should grow up.