Oops! I Did It Again...

Forgot that I was writing for this blog, that is. Not the first time.

Probably not the last.

In a neat little twist of Fate (oh, I claimed to be paying attention to those recently, didn't I?), I stumbled across the post Things I'm Afraid to Tell You, written last week by Ez at Creature Comforts. Her words touched such a sensitive nerve on the Internet, a veritable army of bloggers took up the theme and wrote their own confessionals in response (you should read through some of these when you have time - they're really good). And just when I was deciding what to write after my mini-hiatus...

I've been battling a strange little bout of depression. Strange in that it left me unable to write. Usually my depressive moods bring on a flood of (often terrible and always deeply self-pitying) words and an almost compulsive need to write. Because I forgot to take my meds on Wednesday, I woke up Thursday morning remembering four different and very complicated dreams along with a feverish need to write them all down. Putting pen to paper to record those visions was like castor oil for the soul. Because constipation jokes are awesome.

Things I'm Afraid to Tell You

When I first contemplated what I could possibly tell you that you didn't already know, it seemed I had nothing to share. I've told stories about my depression, forgetting my baby in the car, and strange growths on my girly parts. Frankly, I think I probably share things you'd rather not know.

I am comfortable sharing my embarrassments and failures. It's funny! It helps all of us embrace our own humanity! It effectively distracts the audience from seeing my deep insecurities about my own abilities!

Crap.

I am afraid to tell you about my desires and ambitions because I doubt my ability to reach any of the goals I want to set for myself. I learned a long time ago that failure doesn't hurt as much when you can pretend you never wanted to succeed in the first place.

You may remember I recently titled myself the Queen of Deep Resolve and Crappy Follow Through. In case you're curious, that project has stalled too. Of course.

Telling You What I Need To Hear

Stop being mean to yourself.

The Death of Spontaneity

I am not a keeper of schedules, nor do I follow many routines. I know, you're shocked.

This was not a problem with small children. Oh, my babies had schedules all right. Schedules they created. And schedules they changed. Randomly. With no warning. I rolled with it.

Where "rolled with it" was often synonymous with "sobbed in despair about yet another night with no sleep".

Whatever.

This parenting style has its advantages. Quite used to disruptions in their days, my boys adapt happily to traveling or sleeping in unfamiliar places. Or snacking on a granola bar when dinner is late because Mommy forgot to go grocery shopping. Again.

Whatever.

I fear my carefree, spontaneous days may be coming to an end.

Preschool, after school activities, and more challenging academics for Quake are threatening to upset my bouncy little apple cart. It is with severe trepidation that I approach such chilling things as chore charts.

Any tips for surviving this?

Fashion Friday - Anthropologie Edition

I love Anthropologie. True, none of their clothes fit me, but I can't afford them anyway!

But neither of those things has to interfere with using the Anthropologie aesthetic to inspire myself. Recently I found myself frustrated with the outfits I was creating - they felt a bit safe and stale. So I started giving myself challenges. The first one was to create outfits using lots of Anthropologie's pieces, especially in ways that expanded my use of color. I'll let you decide if I was successful...

 

In other fashion news (but not only fashion), I just discovered Gala Darling. How is it possible that I didn't know about her earlier? Now my breakin'-out-of-the-box outfits have got a whole new level of inspiration. Of course my other soul-sister-but-she-doesn't-know-it-in-a-totally-not-stalkerish-way Susannah Conway "introduced" us.

New Project 8,027

Because there are truly few things I like more than starting another project I will probably never finish!

While moving a bookcase a few weeks ago, I was once again confronted with a pile of books that I usually keep stacked separately from the others - my personal self-help/get creative/figure out what it all means shelf. Oh, the sweet sweet guilt.

I always buy these titles with the deepest resolve to do the work, make the change. But just like everywhere else in my life, I get distracted. I read a chapter or two, do the exercises, maybe even pick up a new habit. And while I'm practising this new habit for a few weeks, I manage to forget to keep reading. Oops!

I am the Queen of Deep Resolve and Crappy Follow Through.

Every time I've noticed these books in the last few years* I've told myself that one day - one day! - I'm going to work my way through all of them just for kicks. And possibly in the hope of reaching enlightenment. But mostly for kicks.

That one day is here.

I'm starting with Barbara Sher's Refuse to Choose (something practical), Deepak Chopra's The Book of Secrets (something spiritual), and Liz Lamoreux's Inner Excavation (something more arty, plus I just got it for Christmas). Why are you looking at me like that? You mean you don't read 3 books at a time? 

I don't either. I'm actually reading 6 books right now. The other 3 don't have anything to do with my journey through the 7 levels of self-help though. Unless of course that bitch, Serendipity, decides to show up. As usual.

Only 18 more after these**!

It's OK, you can roll your eyes. I do it all the time...

*Yes, that's right, I said 'years'.

**These original 21 titles do not include the subset of writing books I've collected. I decided if I could get through the others, I might torture myself with those. One impossible mountain at a time, people!  

Remember When...Flipping Edition

This weekend Monkey Man left the TV on when he and boys left to go fishing. I didn't mind because Jack Hanna was coming on, and there were wombats involved. Wombats! Eeeee, the way the waddle on their short little legs! Wombats!

Then when I went upstairs to do my email/shower/start the laundry, I left it on too. Because I am a giant electricity hoarder. And when I came back downstairs there was an infomercial on about how to make money in the current real estate market, otherwise known as "The Best Way to Get Rich is Sell Other People Information on How They Might Get Rich."

It made me nostalgic for when everyone was all crazy about house 'flipping'. Oh, how I wish I could have been a part of that. Not because of the money, but because I love the idea of going into some bland house, replacing the flooring and the fixtures, putting on a coat of paint, and basically just making it look pretty and up-to-date.

I never felt like I could do much with my own house. We bought at the top of the market so any improvements felt, shall we say, "cost prohibitive". And now we're renting so it's sort of a non-issue. So I guess I'll just indulge in a little bit of remember when...

Things Other People Wrote

Feeling lazy today...OK, lazier...so I thought I'd throw out a few links to stuff that's been making me happy or thoughtful or just insanely jealous lately. I'll let you figure out which link goes with which feeling.

• The poem Why Creativity Was Invented by Samantha Reynolds
• This article about being joyful and depressed, all at the same time
• Found via a perennial favorite, How About Orange, the Color game (because I am obsessed with color) and the I Shot the Serif game (because I am a budding typography nerd apparently)
• The Bloggess - so funny I almost peed my pants (and not just because I'm 40) and now I'm angry because a) I'm only now discovering it, and b) I didn't write it
• Geeky Embroidery - 'nuff said