Notebook Braindrain

I'm archiving a notebook I filled up a few months ago. There was some pertinent information to transcribe such as phone numbers etc. But also some thoughts I made on the run that I wanted to log here.

I feel sorry for empty restaurants.

I will survive if we're just friends (in reference to BG - interesting!).

I can play hard to get... when I'm cryogenically frozen!!

The only time you can't afford to fail is the last time you try.
Charles Kettering

The mind is likened to a household drainage system, keep filling it with rubbish and it will seize on you.
P.K. Shaw

A poem I wrote around 16/09/08 (now somewhat out of date but it was interesting for posterity's sake)

we took the best and worst years of each others lives
now all I'm left with is your grumbles and sometimes soothing voice
I'm not over you
I treated you too mean
I treated you too kind
I went through the night
to have you leave at dawn
that's not true
I couldn't help you
I'd run out of puff
you'd run out of puff too
but you never gave me
a clue
how do you remember me?
do you remember the skipping through the house naked?
do you remember the funny faces?
or do you remember the flip-outs?

I'm sorry you made me weak
you carried me in your pocket, close to your heart
now you don't even need me
nor want me on the telephone

DS: coffee = 2 | fruit = 1 | veges = 1 | alcohol = nil | exercise = morning yoga routine

I'm enjoying some subconscious catharsis by archiving photos containing the EX and anything around the house / on the computer that pertains to him. Still got to deal with two or more mega boxes of files that are related to him but more about work. This feels good and feels all in the name of creating physical and subconscious space for a special man friend. Had the weirdest dream about him last night. Don't know whether that marathon in my brain was what caused me to 'sleep' through my tri-alarm system. My earplugs are simply too effective. Tomorrow's another day.

The case of the disappearing man...

I went for a walk today. Trying to continue my beach walks now that I'm back in town. The water and sand looks dirtier, but hey, I hope some of the benefits will still result. Wondered on my walk if there is an over the counter urine test for delusion? Wee on the stick and if a red exclamation mark emerges then you're officially a nutter and not living in the real world.

Where for art thou BG? You might as well stay away til my King Kong sized pimple recedes. It takes alot of concentration to remind myself I have better things to do than wait for and wonder about you. Disappearing BG: you perplex me, but strangely, don't make me feel bad. I think I'll hear from you one day. Unless of course you've realised that I'm kind of stalking you... (only online... is that okay?).

In a bizarre way, I actually think his absence is good for me. I'm aware this is a character building test. Let me pass, pretty please.

I miss you BG, but I'm not going to reach out, sorry. It doesn't mean I don't want to. It's just what I have to do to put this to the delusion test.

DS: Coffee = 2 | Fruit = 2 | Pretzels = almost full bag | Alcohol = 2 | Exercise = 1hr walk
List of non-BG activities to do: Wash-up, wash clothes, stick pictures on wall, deal with archives pertaining to EX, beautify self.

Better begin my night-time routine. Ignored my series of 3 alarms this morning.

Beach Walks & Effects

Mood was remarkably altered for the better after another dusk walk on the beach. Though, I'm reaching the end of my tether with BG. Starting to refeel the futility I felt back in May after a 3 week absence. It's been a bit over 2 weeks now and I'm fending off self-combustion. My justifications for his absence are losing credibility. But hey, the walk on the beach was marvellous. I even ran a couple of stretches (for approximately 15secs each time - this is BIG DEAL for me).

I have to say being half on holiday is not a comfortable state to be in. Relaxation spawns guilt and work prevents any genuine unwind. Feel like I've put my guilt and long to-do list into a slow cooker and I'll lift off the lid to a frightening amount of steam when I return to reality. The beach walk has given a pleasant sense of ensuing fitness though; even the overdose on chocolate tonight hasn't ruined this.

Better go to bed now. Need to finish Camus book so I can move onto Capote before book club in a few weeks. I clearly don't have room for another genius in my life right now, and if BG really was a genius, he would find his way into my heart quick smart.

DS: Coffee = 2 | Fruit = 1 | Alcohol = 1 | Exercise = 40min walk (& run!) | Regrets = chocolate

Carbonating the Soul

Just went down to the beach to get some dusk beachiness whilst I drank a beer. Made me realise that the ocean carbonates my soul.

There's the continual fizz of white wash on the sand above the rumble of more distant larger waves crashing. I can't help but smile. It doesn't matter that it's not my beach house that promotes access to this scene. It doesn't matter that it's not my car that whisked me down here before sunset. It doesn't matter that I don't have a man in my life right now. It only matters that I'm here and that the ocean exists at all.

In the same way that fireworks cracking into the sky burn out the sadness and disappointments within your soul, the ocean offers effervescent nourishment. Hearing it, the fizz. Seeing it, the glow, crash and wash. Feeling it, the carbonated water around me as I dive and dart underwater. Smelling it, more subtle but the scent of the beach is still unmistakably enlivening. This is why even swimming in the depths of winter is appealing to me. To me the ocean is about this effervescence. It's not simply about warm days and refreshing swims. Interestingly effervescence means bubbliness as well as vivaciousness or of high spirits. The ocean is mine, but yours too.

I am staying on Victoria's southern coast and driving into the first surf town out of Melbourne on our way here I had a sense of 'coming home'. But I've never lived there, holidayed there nor had any association with it. I think it simply means that I am called to the sea. I am happy there. I am happy here. My utopia is to have two abodes, in the city and beachside. Lucky I don't live in the 17th Century where such commuting would be an arduous affair nor in an undeveloped nation today, where such travel would be impractical and inaccessible. I am so grateful for my friends that grant me such luxuries, my job that permits such flexibility and my new demeanour that can derive instant pleasure from such simple adventures.

I clearly need the ocean in my life. Glad I wasn't born in Kazakhstan.

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Regretted eating 8 biscuits today in lieu of lunch. I was like a ... (insert metaphor here).

Waiting for BG to come back to tickle my fancy. Nourishing self in the interim.

Self nourished with wine, swimming, biscuits and baby-yoga-steps.

Plan going not too astray. The odd shameful stalking. The odd skipped lunch. The dirty complexion. Will I break my routine and not wash-up tonight? Heaven forbid!! I'm cultivating routine and perpetuating it reduces effort, it seems. So I will do the washing up tonight. Will I wash my face? Need more face washers.

Saw inspiring doco the other night. Boris Rhyzy. Also saw and loved The Exploding Girl.

Patience and contentment in absence of BG isn't difficult. The only thing that's difficult is my sometimes lack of self-trust. What if my instincts are/were wrong? Is he not as keen as previously deduced or maybe self-sabotaging, risk-taking or rather confident in himself that I will be here upon his return? I might be in Antarctica!

The main thing I'm trying to focus on is that he's not here in the present, so although thoughts of him bring a smile to my face, I'm truly trying not to indulge in anything more than that.

Ah bedtime, you beckon. Warm, cosy and horizontal. Next week I'm heading off for a winter sea-change to a beach southwest of Melbourne. Would be interested to try an ocean dip but it's probably unrealistic.

Eat Pray Love

It took me a while, and I diverted onto reading The State of Me part way through, but I finished Eat Pray Love earlier this year. I marked many pages, for the humour and insights - and here for posterity are my favourite gems from the book. The cynic in me suggests that we'd all have such transformative experiences if our publisher funded a year-long trip of indulgence, rest, peace and spiritual study. But kudos to this Elizabeth Gilbert for being so rawly honest and making it happen for all of us.

ITALY
In relation to taking anti-depressants in the aftermath of her divorce and pondering whether she would’ve survived on her own, without the medication, she writes: “That’s the thing about a human life – there’s no control group, no way to ever know how any of us would have turned out if any variables had been changed.”

“I fall asleep holding my notebook against my chest, open to this most recent assurance. In the morning when I wake up, I can still smell a faint trace of Depression’s lingering smoke, but he himself is nowhere to be seen. Somewhere during the night, he got up and left. And his buddy Loneliness beat it, too.”

Regarding a vow of celibacy she took whilst in Italy (and ultimately broke in Indonesia) – ah to be brought to orgasm surrounded by peaceful fields of rice paddies… how could one not attain happiness this way?! She says: “When I get lonely these days, I think: So be lonely Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” Lets hear that again. Never use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.

Drawing a comparision between the tragedies in her life and the centuries of unhappy times in Sicily, she says:“The same thing which has helped generations of Sicilians hold their dignity has helped me begin to recover mine – namely, the idea that the appreciation of pleasure can be an anchor of one’s humanity.”

“You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight.”

INDIA
She writes on the inability to meditate, even in an ashram. Of the constant chatter in the mind and the feeling of frustration of not being able to turn it off – when you have a genuine desire to do so. I know this feeling. Lately my lack of concentration has upset me, or perturbed me. The perceived failure at meditation really upset her: “I was full of a hot, powerful sadness and would have loved to burst into the comfort of tears, but tried hard not to, remembering something my Guru once said – that you should never give yourself a chance to fall apart because, when you do, it becomes a tendency and it happens over and over again. You must practice staying strong, instead.”

This is interesting. When I think back to times of great depression (in my brain, not the 1930s financial crash), for instance the week around my 27th birthday, one thing I recall is the continuous uncontrollable crying. The crying seemed to birth more crying. My crying unravelled everything. Crying can be a good thing and I think it's a crucial human function (yesterday morning I had a little cry for no clear reason), but without blocking emotion, I realise now it is more important to practice staying strong. To amplify and repeat regularly whatever makes you feel strong and minimise any yielding to the dark side. Easier said than done, I know.

And now for something totally ridiculous, a superb paragraph on meeting a friend in the ashram. Elizabeth was eating dinner on her own. “I haven’t seen this guy around here yet. He must be a new arrival. The stranger’s got a cool, ain’t-no-big-hurry kind of walk, and he moves with the authority of a border town sheriff, or maybe a lifelong high-rolling poker player. He looks like he’s in his fifties, but walks like he’s lived a few centuries longer than that. He’s got white hair and a white beard and a plaid flannel shirt. Wide shoulders and giant hands that look like they could do some damage, but a totally relaxed face. He sits down across from me and drawls, 'Man, they got mosquitoes ‘round this place big enough to rape a chicken'.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Richard from Texas has arrived. “

The struggle to meditate peacefully and with minimal distraction is a fairly long one. At one point Elizabeth tries a simple mantra. "It's simple, just two syllables: Ham-sa. In Sanskrit it means "I am That." The Yogis say that Ham-sa is the most natural mantra, the one we are all given by God before birth. It is the sound of our own breath. 'Ham' on the inhale, 'sa' on the exhale. ('Ham', by the way is pronounced softly, openly, like hahhhm, not like the meat you put on a sandwich. And 'sa' rhymes with 'Ahhhh...'). As long as we live, every time we breathe in or out, we are repeating this mantra. I am That."
Ham-sa.
I am That.

Richard from Texas gives Elizabeth various generous and frank advice at the ashram. He also affectionately nicknames her 'Groceries'. In response to her longing for and heartbreak at her demised relationship back home, Richard says: "Send him some love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it. If you clear out all that space in your mind that you're using right now to obsess about this guy, you'll have a vacuum there, an open spot - a doorway. And guess what the universe will do with that doorway? It will rush in - God will rush in - and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using David to block that door. Let it go."

Advice a young lady dreaming of a Boy Genius could heed, me thinks. Interestingly, the conversation (and prose) leads to Elizabeth's control issues. It was only recently that I read one of the daily 'reflections' in Emotions Anonymous' Today book. It declared thinking about someone (to the point of ruminating perhaps), a form of control. Controlling is not living in the flow of the universe. As wanky as that sounds, I think it's probably true, and at the very least, makes for easier living (and less ruminating). So I'm mish-mashing Texan Richard's philosophy with Emotions Anonymous. I'm sending smiles out to the BG when I think of him, then just letting it be. Truly I am. I'm not obsessed, just hopeful. I also happen to write shitloads about him in this blog; sorry guys. Click here to unsubscribe.

Mid-meditation one day Elizabeth finds herself pondering where she may live upon return to the real world, she considers how cool it would be to have a spare room for meditation. Finally aware of what path her brain had gone down, she was aghast. She thought: Here you are in India, in an Ashram in one of the holiest pilgrimage sites on earth. And instead of communing with the divine, you're trying to plan where you'll be meditating a year from now in a home that doesn't yet exist in a city yet to be determined. How about this, you spastic fool - how about you try to meditate right here, right now, right where you actually are? She pulls her attention back with the silent mantra. She retracts insulting herself. Then thinks Still, a gold meditation room would be nice.

So she tries Vipassana meditation, what she describes as the 'Extreme Sports version of transcendence'. Basically you just sit. Moving and adjusting your position to achieve, maintain or find some level of comfort is NOT ALLOWED! If you're feeling pain you're supposed to meditate upon that. I actually want to give this a go, this and the Ham-Sa meditation. They seem nice and simple. But given I seem to be miles away from doing even the simplest, briefest yoga exercise in the morning, maybe this is just fantasy. Believe it or not, I'm trying to release more of my intentions from out under the flannelette doona. I'm getting there.

Righto, I'm going to conclude here. That's only extracts from 2/3 of the book but I really should retire for the night and I think maybe it might be easier for readers to digest in two halves.

I declined an invitation to a gig tonight. This house mouse wanted to be happily alone. I haven't blogged this week because I've left my computer at work at nights to engender more domestic, personal and non-computer based activities. It's worked. I'm back in the habit of washing up every night. Teeth brushing has made a comeback too. Is there enough space in my life to be fully improved like sourdough bread? If I manage to do yoga, eat well, work well, think well, domesticate well, etc... will I simply implode, evaporate or get hit by a bus? No harm in trying the experiment I guess. I've got a flat tummy on my mind. Ham-Sa.

Almost a Miracle

I had a good day. Nothing too exciting to report, just a plain good ol' day. Lots done and laughs laughed.

Dailies: Coffee = 2 | Fruit = nil | Veges = 4 | Alcohol = 1 | Exercise = nil | Domestic Achievements = yes | Regrets = skipping planned swim

I also had one of my invoices paid. A stay of execution is the best way to conclude a good day. I'm also listening to Townes Van Zandt. Is this one of the superb reasons I had to have that 8 year relationship? To be properly introduced to Townes Van Zandt? I reckon I would've crossed paths with his music one day anyway, but I'm grateful I was introduced to him all those years ago and have enjoyed his music since. I've even just discovered more of it on the world wide web. Go Townes!

Being Nice To Myself

Daily Stats:
Coffee = 2 | Fruit = 1 | Veges = lots | Alcohol = 1 | Exercise = nil | Domestic Achievements = adequate

Well, I'm certainly not likely to get nominated for a Medal of the Order of Australia (OAM) after today's achievements but I am content with the day now closing. Did you know the true definition of the OA honour? Overachievers Anonymous.

Today I did a bit of outputting and I enjoyed it. It didn't feel like a chore. I did grocery shopping and sort of considered a few different dishes I can cook this week to avoid a toast and yoghurt diet. I made and ate dinner. I caught up with some new friends. I continued the bookclub book, The Spy that Came in from the Cold. I emailed my sister. I planned my week ahead - this is a new technique I'm about to trial; planning my whole week in advance and attempting to stick to a schedule. I brushed my teeth. I focussed on one thing at a time as best as possible. I listened to a Podcast about psychology and mental illness treatment in 19th century Austria. Can't remember alot except that they used to study the folds of skin on your head and/or markings on your scalp for signs of madness. Did I mention I have quite a few scratchy spots on my head?!

I also had a lovely chat with a friend though I find it hard not to multitask when I'm on the phone. Cordless handsets are to blame. I was aware when I was tempted by procrastination; chose not to clean out the car but instead stick to the vague plan of outputting some writing.

Anyway, as blog subscribers I can't imagine you want some rudimentary list of my domestic achievements and a blow by blow account of my brain's waves, so I shall wrap up. All I can say is that I've bounced back up on my trampoline mind. Nothing's fixed though. I still have more money in sunglasses on my face than cash to my name. But I'm happy. I'm grateful I have a warm cosy cubbyhouse, good friends, fun family, reasonable health and the fortitude to improve from here on.

If I don't get a heartfelt intimate shag by Christmas I might reconsider all of the above and admit myself to a zoo.

Better Now

Am I the blogger who cried wolf? "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" I say.

Well, I am feeling so much better as of this afternoon. Woke up a bit better, had first life coaching session with friend, dealt with a casual meeting and am now conquering my domestic mayhem.

I've done the washing up! I've wiped the bench! I've got a load of washing on! I've almost finished picking up my clothes off the floor!

I am however, missing a social engagement. A party. Guilty, a bit. But I need this domestic time. It's got to be a non-negotiable feature of my life, because it can make or break my mood. This week it was a kick in the guts after I was already crawling on the floor.

BTW, I don't need a man. I've got podcasts! I've renewed my interest in podcasts and now subscribed to BBC's History Magazine podcast , Radio National's Hindsight and a learn to speak Italian podcast. Some of these are getting me through my domesticity, as is last.fm (which I am disappointed to discover is no longer free! But I may consider subscribing - it's affordable).

Anyways, BG news is nil. But I'm okay with that. One of my first thoughts this morning is that my life isn't presenting itself as ready for a relationship to enter. Dirty linen, chaotic house, life, work frustration, etc., etc.... blah, blah. I'm fixing it all asap as I'm keen for some love and ready to give love in buckets.

I've also decided that I might refer to my work from hereon as 'output'. Strange but maybe worth trying.

Daily Stats: Coffee = 2 | Fruit = does an apple juice count? | Veges = nil | Exercise = about 60mins cycling in total | Alcohol = nil, as of yet | Domestic Achievements = many and counting!