I’ve been off sick for a couple of days now. Feeling really unwell and generally blecchy. I think it’s what my mum used to call general malaise in the sick notes that she used to write for me.
The weather has turned and it’s Friday evening so the weekend is upon us. I’m glad for it. But I’m finding that I can’t get excited about the weekend. I’m sure there’s something to be excited about, I just don’t know what t is.
I think it’s okay. I think it’s okay to not be okay.
To say that I’m a klutz is an understatement. I’ve slipped on icy patches and landed on my bum, hurt my knee and fallen on my back. It’s the same with wet patches. I’ve slid down stairs. I’ve missed steps and hit my head on walls. But as I am most often found cooking or baking, my most frequent injuries are finger slicing or burns.
Last night wasn’t any different. The only difference is that I’ve managed to give myself a second degree burn. Needless to say I don’t exactly blame anyone else. It was completely my fault. I was absent-mindedly rushing through things. I was attempting to take a full baking tray of chips and place it on the counter whilst trying to figure out how to get the other tray that was still in the oven out and onto the next shelf up.
Of course that was an accident waiting to happen. I managed to miss the counter all together and the edge of the extremely hot baking tray clipped the edge of the counter and the baking tray bounced on my wrist. I not only managed to burn myself fairly badly, I also managed to spill two-thirds of the contents of the baking tray. There was carnage in my tiny kitchen as chips were everywhere.
Alan made me rush to run my injured wrist under the cold tap and fill the sink up with cold water so I could soak the burn in the cold water for as long as I could bear it. I’m glad I did because it meant that I didn’t get a massive blister. But it does mean having to make sure that the burn has to be protected until the scab dries and the wound stops coming up with blisters.
I will try to be more careful. TRY being the operative word.
Like muscles, writing muscles must be exercised as well. And like me and gym memberships gone by, I’ve let my writing muscles waste away.
To be completely honest, real life has been quite full on and being creative, at the end of a busy, stressful day, took a back burner. I’ve had a few things to work on (relationships, mental health issues – another blog entry completely, self-development, train delays, yadda, yadda, yadda). Yes, yes! They are excuses.
So I thought I’d write. Something. Just to exercise the writing muscles…ease myself into the writing storm that I would like to enter the scene.
I’ve been reading a lot of books (both fiction and non-fiction!), taking online classes (more on these later!), and I’ve been filling my head with all sorts of ideas. All this in between taking photos and learning how to use my lovely little Olympus EPL-7 properly (yes, still! I am constantly discovering the little tricks this lovely camera can do all with a twist of a knob and a click of a button)and my smart little dynamo GoPro, and working, FULL TIME.
Oh I spent a few days in Lovely London! But that is, also, another blog entry! Ha! Yay me with all these writing projects (I have high hopes that they will actually get done!).
So let’s call this my excuse for a catching up entry.
What’s been going on in your life? Yes, let’s start a conversation.
Our actions are like pebbles thrown into a pond. They create ripples and they spread, affecting the whole pond. Because we are all connected somehow, what we do affects everyone around us. We need to remember that what we do, however insignificant to us, will affect someone else.
I am awake, sitting on my couch and in pain. I just wanted to stop crying about the pain my back was putting me through. So I climbed out of bed, walked gingerly out of the bedroom and walked to my front room. And then sobbed.
It currently hurts to breath. But it only hurts on the left side of my body. My muscles are punishing me for doing something. I’m not sure what.
So instead of focusing on the pain, I started breathing exercises to push through the pain. Then I started thinking “Ooooh maybe I can read something to take my mind of trying to forget the pain.” Because I always think engaging my brain helps me deal with whatever hurts – whether it’s a physical pain or something else.
So now, I’m blogging. Which is quite the surprise. I haven’t actually written anything spontaneously in a very long while. So in a way, I am thankful for the muscle pain that prompted me to get up. It doesn’t matter whether or not this post makes sense or is at all positive (I’m writing about pain, so I’m thinking that’s a negative). What’s important is that I’m writing again.
I’ve got a few catch up posts to write. Posts that I started whilst I was at home in the Philippines or in the weeks after I came home. I need to be a little more disciplined about writing. It is really like a muscle (hellooooo pain reference!), that needs to be exercised. The longer I leave writing, the harder it is to approach the writing inertia.
And funnily enough, the only way to fight the writing inertia is to fight against the writing inertia. What a predicament, eh?
It’s 23:34. Not bad for 11 minutes work, huh? It’s not exactly groundbreaking or profound. But at least I’ve started writing again!
“Change occurs slowly. Very often a legal change might take place but the cultural shift required to really accept its spirit lingers in the wings for decades.” ― Sara Sheridan
10 years ago I stepped off a plane at just after 6AM at Heathrow Terminal 5. 10 years ago, I was carrying a Philippine passport. In July, I received my British passport and in it, confirmation that I was a British citizen.
A lot has happened in 10 years – that equates to 520 weeks or 3,652 and half days or 85,500 hours or 5,130,000 minutes or 307,800,000 seconds. That’s a lot of moments, a lot of instances and a lot of situations. It’s been quite a ride so far: I’ve met so many people, I’ve made new friends, lost some, learned about myself and the kind of people I want to surround myself with. I’ve learned that you can’t please everyone, no matter how hard you try; that the opinions you need to focus on should be the opinions of the “right people” – the people who accept you for you, lift you up and respect your values and sensitivities. I’ve also learned that you need to take care of yourself first. Because no one else is going to do it for you, not really.
“A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.” — Henri J.M. Nouwen
Yesterday my patience was severely tested. I was waiting for something important to be delivered. A lot of things that will be happening to me in the next few days hinged on that all-important delivery.
I tried keep active and do other things to keep my mind off the fact that I was waiting. But it was hard! I had the TV on most of the day to distract me but didn’t even register that the great Roger Federer lost at Wimbledon! But what I was waiting for did finally arrive. I was just too impatient.
Note to self: when waiting allow yourself time to wait for the long haul. Your timetable isn’t the same as everyone else’s.