Just so that you get everything in your feed reader as well.
- I am so tired at the moment that the only thing I’m longing for is sleep. All I can think about is how marvelous it would feel to just lay my head on the table and close my eyes.
- Of course I promptly forget all about that every evening when it’s time to go to bed, and I then start battling tiredness with food.
- Which is not unrelated to the fact that I’m about two to three kilos heavier than I want to be which at times makes me feel totally fat. And the next minute I see myself in the mirror and marvel at the slimness of my hips. These days when I tell someone how much weight I lost they tend not to believe me.
- I slacked off in a rather grandiose way the last week which means I will have to do everything today. Until 2.30 or so. I am postponing the taxes, though, will have to do those over the weekend. Strangely enough I don’t enjoy doing taxes.
- I am also full of ennui to the brim. None of the hundreds of unread books (or the dozen of books I have already started reading) appeals to me, everywhere I look there is so much stuff to do that I just lay back and flip through yet another book or website. And then I think how unappealing all of this is. Even the chocolate I’m eating by the handful is unappealing.
- One of the most unappealing things at the moment is the novel I’m writing. I am about four hours away of finishing the rough draft, and of course that’s the point where I decide the whole thing is just too bad, too boring, and not worth it.
- It’s a good thing that I know by now that that is just a normal part of the process for me. I’ll go through phases where I think it’s a) not too bad, b) the best thing ever, c) completely horrible in various stages. None of this means anything.
- Of course that doesn’t make the writing any easier.
- Of course sitting here waiting for me to be in a better mood won’t be changing anything, the only thing that will change my mood is kicking myself in the butt and do something.
- This will be a fun weekend, I’m sure.
So, how are you doing?
So the concerts went well, and we’re trying to get back to our routines and normal life. But it is harder than we thought.
I did expect to be exhausted and not good for much for most of the week, but I didn’t expect to feel completely limp and faint for the whole week. Friday was the first day I felt almost back to normal, but only almost. And my husband has felt the same.
So I spent most of last week basically doing nothing. A little knitting, a lot of reading, and not much else. I didn’t even go for runs, and had short walks instead because I felt so low on energy. I did sleep a lot, and set my alarm for 6.30 instead of 5. Turns out that eight hours of sleep is my limit these days.
But today I have decided to go back to normal. So I set my alarm for 5.30 (didn’t want to go overboard), woke up at 5 and did my morning routine thing. Now it is 6.20 and I’m writing this. I’m hoping to get back to writing my novel soon, hopefully after breakfast. So far this morning I have opened the document and stared at it for five minutes. I have no idea what will happen next, and am hoping that my subconscious will work that out while I’m having breakfast.
The downside of the concerts being over is that now I should have way more time and energy. And I should be able to do everything that has been left undone for the past two years.
But of course that’s not how it works, isn’t it? I’m always hoping for vast amounts of time to open up and then they never do. But my list of things to do is really long. I still want to declutter. I stopped a few weeks ago and haven’t gotten back to it. I still want to sew all the things. I still want to finish the weaving projects that have been lingering for years.
When I look at all of that at once it’s really overwhelming. My husband is almost in a panic right now because there is so much to do in the garden, and then he wants to practice all.the.instruments, and there is a lot to work on in the house as well. And I can totally understand him because I feel the same.
Of course there is only one thing to do. Take a deep breath, make a list, and work on it, slowly, one thing after the other, not stopping for the next few months. And at the end the house will be decluttered, our son will have a newly renovated room, we will have our living room back – mold-free – and there will be fresh vegetables from the garden. Only it won’t happen all at once.
But the novel will get written, and the instruments will get played, and our lives will become a little calmer. I hope.
This weekend is the one my husband and I have been working towards for two years now. Tomorrow and the day after we will perform songs from 1967 with a band.
We have been practicing and rehearsing for months and months, we will have three people’ staying at our house overnight, and we will feed the whole band, all six of us.
I didn't really want to do this concert. It was my husband's pet project, and when he first came up with the idea I said no. In fact I said, “No way, not with me.”
Then I decided that if this is so important to him I will support it. Also I keep forgetting that I love performing more than I think I do.
Still. This will be exhausting for sure. I won't get enough sleep, I will have to be the one making breakfast and lunch and dinner, and doing all the dishes, and being around all day in case somebody needs something.
And then after dinner I will be standing on stage, helping with sound, singing background and shaking a tambourine. (Shaking a tambourine is surprisingly exhausting and painful. I find that an hour or so of banging the tambourine against my hand leaves me with a dire need of applying an ice pack. And then I'll do it again for another hour, and again the next day.)
And after the concert on Sunday we will unplug everything again, and move all the amps, mixers, cables, instruments, microphone stands and such back to our house, go to bed way too late, and on Monday I will need to get up at 6.30, make breakfast for our son, and then make breakfast for everybody else when they get up, after which I will start my normal teaching day again.
I'm hoping that the making of music will be fun, and I'm sure it will be. I'm also looking forward to having weekends off and being able to focus on my writing and my own music, and maybe decluttering the house.
- It is the first week of Easter break, and I’m so out of sorts that I typed „Thursday“ in the headline at first. As you know I’m always a little thrown by things like weekends and breaks, and this week my husband is also away with a friend for a few days in Italy. Of course I thought I’d have huge amounts of time on my hand in which I could do all.the.things. Finish sewing the muslin for the performance dress, make all.the.music, read all the books, write like the wind.
- Instead I spent Monday morning waiting for my husband to leave, then got frozen pizza at the last minute, made that, had lunch, taught a student, went to a doctor’s appointment with out son (we biked there and I managed to get lost twice), then teach another student, and that was that. Then go to bed way too late.
- Tuesday the sloth descended on me, and I basically did nothing the whole day but sit, read and crochet. Until my back and arms hurt. I skipped my Tuesday run, did not practice, did not shower, and was extremely cranky by the end of the day.
- Since past experience has taught me that me sitting and reading and knittein (or crocheting, whatever) and doing nothing else is a fast track to depression I decided to do everything right today.
- I got up, did my morning routine, wrote, had breakfast, wrote some more, then waited for our son to get up (bad move when you have a teenager), was late for the run that I had decided to do today instead of yesterday, tried calling my mother, and just when I was about to get out the door to run errands she called me back, we talked for 45 minutes, I was way too late for erranding, went to the health food store and the pharmacy, went back, made baked beans and eggs for lunch, decided to read a bit before doing the dishes, and really buckling down, and the next thing I knew it was three hours later.
- While I am halfway through the book I started yesterday somehow that doesn’t really give me that fulfillment and rosy glow that I hoped for.
- I plain forgot to blog last week, by the way, which just goes to show how out of wack I am.
- I promised my husband to buy gasoline for the lawn mower back in the fall, and he put the empty canister next to my bike. I then promptly forgot until he reminded me a few weeks ago. Also twice since, and last week. I might want to go and get gasoline but it’s always really weird to bike to the gas station, get the canister out of your paniers, fill it with a few liters, carry the canister inside to pay because I can’t just leave it standing around, and if I put it in the paniers the bike will topple over, and the bike back home.
- I also forgot that I need to go to the cobbler to get my shoes back twice. Even though I put it on a list. Lists only help if you look at them regularly.
- And now that my husband isn’t here not only do I have to cook every day (I have almost forgotten how to do that, by the way) I also have to water the millions of plants everywhere that are supposed to be planted in the garden in a few weeks. His whole studio is full of pots with seeds and tiny plants in them. Also I can never remember which of the vegetable beds outside is the one without seeds in it. I just water them all.
I’m really not cut out to deal with change in any way, I know. I’m hoping to get better some day but right now the only way I see is to just get the shoes and the gas right now (before the cobbler closes), then do the dishes, do strength training, go to bed on time, and hope for the best for tomorrow.
So, how’s your day going? Sloth? Not-Sloth?
Yes, I know that’s early.
I’ve been whining about not getting anything done for months now. And it was even worse on days when we didn’t have to get up for school, and I didn’t have to teach. And I tried being more disciplined (nope), and writing my novel in the evenings (not going to happen), and telling my family that really, I would spend all afternoon working on that novel-thing but it never happened.
I had this regular writing time in the morning, right after our son left for school and that went somewhat okay most days. Depending on when my husband would get up I got about thirty minutes of writing time in. Or less.
And I tried, and tried, and tried. And then there was this Sunday where I was adamant about working on my novel but in the morning just when I was pulling out my computer to start our son would show up for breakfast, so I made him breakfast and sat with him as he ate, and then just when I thought I’d had a bit of time to myself my husband came down for breakfast too, and then it was time to do the dishes, and then it was time to help with lunch, and then it was time to do some more dishes, and then I practiced the piano, and then I went online for a bit, and then every single time I sat down thinking, that now would be the time someone wanted something from me. You know how this goes.The wifi went down, and I had to fix it. My husband needed me to find out which train to take to a concert the day after, he wanted my help with an email he was writing, there was always something.
Some time around 4 pm that day I just gave up.
And I remembered that just about every single writer I knew who still had a day job said that they were writing first thing in the morning. And 5 am came up a lot. And just a few days earlier I had listenend to the „Petal to the Metal“-podcast, and they had talked about this, and so I borrowed the „Miracle Morning for Writers“ book, read it that day, and set my alarm for 5.30 the next morning.
As recommended I did my meditation, and a bit of yoga, and affirmations (still not quite sure about these), wrote in my journal, and then I started working on my novel. And it went very well. And right after breakfast I worked on it some more. And it was fun! Not the drudgery from before. I was doing really well. And I was even thinking about novel revision throughout the day, and spending a bit of time in the afternoon to prepare for the next day’s revision.
It was glorious.
So I did it again the next day, and the next, and after a week I set my alarm even earlier to 5 am, and that’s what I’ve been doing for a few weeks now, I’m getting up at five, even on weekends, even when I go to bed too late, I don’t care, I just love this so much, and yes I know that’s weird.
But no matter what happens throughout the day, no matter who wants something from me, or if something goes wrong, or if I have a lot of work that day, no matter what I get to spend time just for me and with my writing first thing in the morning.
And it’s making me really, really happy. A little tired too but I’m hoping to work that out soon. Also it’s not as if I had been getting enough sleep every night before that.
So. What do you think? Is being really happy worth getting up at five?