Adding it all up

This is making me epically grouchy but also determined. I've been forking over £20 a month to Weightwatchers since July 2010, so that's £340 for gaining and losing the same m*****f*****g 5 pounds.

This ends straight after Christmas. I'm going to get to goal and then Weightwatchers will be FREE FOREVER.

£340!

£340!!

I'm horrified.

Even introverts need people sometimes

I'm terribly fond of my own company, and can go ages without really needing to see anyone or spend any time with anyone. But sometimes without other people around you just end up going far too deep inside your own mind, and then getting out is a supreme relief. I spent a wonderful afternoon yesterday with my friends, and I feel rejuvenated for the company, for the chat, and for the chocolate. As I drove home through the dark by myself, singing to the mellow hour on Magic FM, I was happily looking forward to home, hearth and bed. It was a wonderful day.

Dear fellow students on The Thing

Do you have NOTHING better to do than post incessantly on the course forum? The new block has just started, why are you already posting questions about the TMA? The essay isn't even due until February! STOP MAKING ME LOOK BAD!

I'm in my study...

...and I'm so damned cosy. It's a little chilly, and possibly a little space heater wouldn't go amiss, but I have my desk set up just so, and the computer set up just so, and the stacks of filing just so, and I'm COMFY.

I may never sit in my living room again.

Catherine requested pics of the flat, and I owe you all I know. My camera broke, so they'll be shitty phone photos but will post them tomorrow.

Work, work, work

I don't think there is enough tea in the world to keep me going...I just have to get through the 2nd.

My gruntle is dissed

Fuck it, I want to be in the 1%. Show me the money.

Reality check

Last night I came home from work and I was thinking about what I needed to do (ironing, put away dishes, budget, make bed, do filing, load of washing, finish reading Antigone, do notes on Antigone comparisons, complete readings, makes notes on readings, start mindmap for essay, find at least three or four more references, reorganise bookshelves), and reflecting on my day at work (a bit frustrating, lack of concentration and focus, lots of wasting time), and I was all set to gripe. And then I realised – ha – I’m all on my own in my lovely flat. I may be sore, fatigued, forgetful, grumpy and feel vaguely guilty, but at least I’m all on my own in my lovely flat.

That counts for a lot!

Gas

Gas is standing between me and my ability to cook all the lovely meals detailed below. The stove has a leak. I'm glad it was discovered and that I don't smoke.

I figure if I was ever in any real danger, the hamsters would have snuffed it. The gas man (and yes, I made plenty of gas man cometh jokes before he came round) assured me that carbon monoxide only really comes from the boiler. I'll be watching the canaries hamsters carefully anyway.

Praise the effort, not just the smarts

This is an old article, but I found it really interesting. It's derived from a book called NurtureShock and it discusses the 'inverse power of praise', and how often tossing out "you're so clever" comments at kids, rather than "you tried really hard at [specific task]" can do more harm than good. The theory is that when a child is simply told that they're clever, they become less likely to want to try something new, or learn something new, because they're afraid of failure. Praising the effort, or encouraging the "practice makes perfect" philosophy means that children are less likely to give up before they've even begun.

Just like with all these theories, I'm sure the best answer lies between the two, but this jibes, I think, with my own experiences. The Mother and The Father were extremely into the "what you put in, you get out" school of thought.

Really interesting article. Link below.

The power (and peril) of praise

Nomnomnoms for the week ahead

Monday: Roasted pumpkin and orange soup
Tuesday: Indian food at work event
Wednesday: Gnocchi with basil pesto and parmesan
Thursday: Corn chowder
Friday: Minted pea risotto
Saturday: Clam sauce and homemade pasta
Sunday: Fridge and cupboard rummage

Stuck choosing a fantasy or sci fi book?

Be stuck no more.

I'm ok, I have a flowchart!

Tackling The Thing

I've been dancing around my readings and my books for weeks now, too terrified to engage with the material and panicking myself with dire predictions as to my doom. The essay looms, and that's the scariest of all.

Finally, today, I knuckled down. And of course, I enjoyed it. And got stuck in and can't wait to get stuck into the other stuff. I am an idiot, who really needs to get over herself.

Lamb roast

The best part of the roasted lamb, is the cold lamb and mint sandwiches you can make with the leftovers. Leigh taught me to do this, along with other vital skills. But the lamb sandwich making skill is the most vital.

Why do we read blogs, journals, diaries and letters?

Have you ever read the letters of the poet Cowper? He had nothing -- literally nothing -- to tell anyone about; private life in a sleepy country town where Evangelical distrust of "the world" denied him even such miserable society as the place would have afforded. And yet one reads a whole volume of his letters with unfailing interest. How his tooth came loose at dinner, how he made a hutch for a tame hare, what he is doing about his cucumbers -- all this he makes one follow as if the fate of empires hung on it. From The Letters of C.S. Lewis Often, it's not what you write, it's how you write it.

The goodest of all the good dogs

046, a photo by liz_isabella on Flickr.

The second book in a trilogy is always the good one

So why doesn't Nora Roberts write FASTER?

Terrified auntie is terrified

Terrified auntie is terrified, a photo by liz_isabella on Flickr.

Why do they make them so damn small?!

Jamie and Ben

Jamie and Ben, a photo by liz_isabella on Flickr.

And then there were two.

Ben

Ben, a photo by liz_isabella on Flickr.

"Hate is not a family value"

And when you kick a lesbian couple off an aeroplane for giving each other a kiss on the lips, you're actively demonstrating hate and discrimination. And to do it in the name of "family values". I'd rather be from a family that loves and accepts everyone than from a family that discriminates against people who love each other.

I don't see anybody kicking hetero couples off of aeroplanes for kissing each other on the lips.

It's so depressing that in this day and age, this kind of shit happens: Lesbian couple forced off a Southwest plane for kissing.

Cramping Claws of Death

My hands have cramped into claws, but it was totally worth it, for I am MOVED.

A fuller, more coherent, post to follow, after I get some salt tablets or something.

Warm memories

When I was little, and I'm thinking this was probably when I was about four or five, I used to like pretending to be a dog. My main reason for pretending to be a dog was because I used to like lying on my side on the warm concrete near the back door of the house we lived in.

The concrete would be warm, never boiling, and I'd stretch as flat as I could. Sometimes I would close my eyes and really pretend to be a dog. But mostly it was an excuse to lie there and watch the ants march past, or roll over and watch the sparrows that used to fly under the chicken wire that protected the roof, or sing to myself. Occasionally I would talk to Dallas, who was my imaginary friend at the time.

I liked being four and five. I remember thinking so much at that age. I remember furiously trying to work out how the world worked, and watching to see if I had got it right.

I would like to run into myself, find myself spreadeagled under a dusty Karoo sun, listen to myself singing Hasie in die holte, and say: "There isn't enough warm concrete in the world - pretend to be a dog for as long as you can."

Things I bought today

• Two walnut tall and wide bookshelves
• Two walnut DVD racks
• A Freesat box

This is to match the coffee table I bought yesterday off the intranet at work. This totally makes up for the fact that I'm still at work at 20:35 on a Wednesday evening.

Can't wait to move!

Jane Eyre

I went to see the new Jane Eyre movie tonight, with Michael Fassbender, Mia Wasikowska and Judi Dench. It was brilliant. I was in raptures. The creepiness, the smouldering, the pathos, the drama, the sheer angst. They did SUCH a good job, and I speak as someone who didn't see the point of a remake when they had just remade it a few years ago with Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson, a version I thought was pretty damn cool.

I read Jane Eyre obsessively in first year, but I have to say I never really understood Jane. I think she's a character you can only appreciate properly with age. She's so resolutely herself, and unwilling to compromise her ideals, and what she knows she deserves, as a free human being, despite her material situation. It's now that I'm not blinded by Mr Rochester's hotness and I can see that she's the stronger of the two, that what attracts Mr Rochester to her is that fact that she won't bend, for anyone, including him.

Something I thought the movie did incredibly well was the juxtaposition of St John and Rochester. St John is supposed to be fairly unassuming, I think, but fired with missionary zeal and blind faith. He demands something of Jane, in a very pragmatic and harsh way. He wants her, but he wants her on his terms. Mr Rochester wants Jane too, and in spite of his impetuousness, his moodiness, his intensity, he wants her on her terms. I liked that very much.

I wonder if Charlotte Bronte wrote herself into the story at all. Do you think she, Emily, Anne and Branwell are supposed to St John and his sisters?

I'm rereading Jane Eyre for The Thing, and I actually can't wait to get my mitts on it again, and see how different it is reading it at 30 from reading it at 19.

Short reviews of the movies I've been far too lazy to review for the past six months or so

One Day
I don't know if it's better to have read the book before seeing this one or not...it has a stunner of a twist, which is less affecting in the movie because you know it's coming, whereas in the book it leaves you gasping for air. So there is that. However, the movie does make it a terribly one-sided story, preferring to focus on this couple's life more from the guy's perspective. And it does work, to a point. Ann Hathaway's accent is SHOCKING, even worse than Leonardo Di Caprio's accent in Blood Diamond. Seriously. Jim Sturgess was a revelation though - he was a fantastic. And hot. Hotness covers a multitude of sins.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes
I don't see what the point of a movie is that has the main plot point play out over the end credits. So stupid. It had a few good points but mostly it was stupid.

Transformers: Dark side of the moon
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Oh my god, what a line, what a performance. It was so good! I totally called the twist, which I almost never do so I was really chuffed about that. There were a couple of heartstopping moments, but the movie fell down in the worst way around the whole love angle. Seriously, we're asked to believe that Sam will put himself and everybody else in danger for a character we only met half an hour ago and who we don't like at all. All she does is shriek and wear inappropriate dresses. Seriously. Feed her to Starscream and get it over with. If you're going to go for the damsel in distress angle, at least make the audience buy it. Other than that: epic. It was so good.

Horrible Bosses
The difference between this movie, which was ok, and Bridesmaids, which I loved with an insane love, is that Horrible Bosses was clearly written by MEN and Bridesmaids was clearly written by incredibly witty and intelligent WOMEN. Horrible Bosses was ok, but not nearly as laugh out loud awesome as Bridesmaids.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2
Oh...I was so nervous before seeing Harry Potter. What if they fucked it up? What if they ruined my favourite parts? It could have been awful...but it wasn't. It rocked! Four favourite things. First, Snape. He was incredible - totally owned his death scene, totally rocked the ambiguity of his character. Your heart just broke for him. Second, the Malfoys, who make a sneaky exit over the bridge right before the final showdown. I loved that no matter how evil the Malfoys are, basically it'll all about family for them, and they were going to make it through no matter what. Awesome. Three, the scene where the teachers are casting spells and bringing down the protective net around the school. It was the perfect balance of dramatic and scary, and really let's you get a sense of where they are. This is It. Also awesome. Four, the scene where Harry uses the resurrection stone and walks into the forest with his parents, Sirius and Lupin. I cried when I hit this scene in the book. Harry is so alone, and then his family is there, and what can I say, it was 4am and I was emotional. I don't know what my excuse was at an 8pm movie showing, but I cried anyway. Less than at the end of Toy Story 3 though. Those scenes made the whole thing amazing. But Prisoner of Azkaban remains my favourite of the whole series, books and movies.

Bridesmaids
Oh my god, so funny. As in nearly cracked a rib funny. My friend Laura and I were rocking backwards and forwards in our seats laughing. And it was all because of the writing. The dialogue was so spot on. The relationships between the women were so finely observed and reported, it was excruciating as well as funny. The  grossest jokes told not shown, and that made such a difference, because it made it even funnier to imagine what the hell was going on. And the sweet cop and all his sweetness! So buying this movie on DVD.

Larry Crowne
I loved this movie and I absolutely did not expect to. But it was a movie with an amazing script. The writing was so stunning, it papered over some unbelievable aspects of the plot. But what this movie came down to was timing. It's about people taking risks at the right time, meeting people at the right moment, and using their opportunities wisely. It's about being a catalyst for your own success. It was so good, seriously.

Bad Teacher
I'm still vaguely ashamed that I thought this was so hysterical. I was clearly in that kind of mood. But it was funny - the Justin Timberlake dryhumping scene? It's on my personal list of funniest movie moments ever.

Pirates of the Caribbean 4
So crap. Crapper than crapper. The crappiest crap that ever crapped a crap movie out and then crapped all over it. And there are mermaids.

Green Lantern

Had a lot going for it but tried to fit entirely too much into an hour and a half, and then lost it completely as a result. I was extremely disappointed by it. And by Ryan Reynolds, who I have kind of a soft spot for.

X-Men First Class
Amazing. Incredible. Mind blowing. Emotional. So damn good and awesome, it has obliterated all the crappy X-Men movies that have been released since the first great one from my mind. And the Wolverine cameo made my day. I want to see it again, but I think it gave you the perfect explanation of how they all ended up where they were in the series. Why does Magneto despise humans? Why can't Charles ever let go of Erik? Why in spite of everything do you actually prefer Magneto for his open hatred, and distrust Charles' political manipulations, even if they are for the good. It was fascinating.

And that's it. Well, I have to do the books, but that can wait until tomorrow when I'm trying to work avoid.

Downton Abbey: the drama returns

I have been on tenterhooks ever since I saw the preview for this episode a few weeks ago. You just knew Julian Fellowes was going to send all the characters to hell and back before the final episode, and even the first 15 minutes didn't disappoint. From the minute Matthew's head pops up in no man's land you know we aren't in gentle pre-war England anymore...

I think that was the theme that came through most in this episode - the fact that even if they get through relatively unharmed, if most of their men get home in one piece, nothing will ever be the same again. The rot has set in for big houses and landed gentry, and in a century or so Downton Abbey will be hired out as scenery for movies about upstairs downstairs in the pre-war era. Anyway.

I was most impressed with Mary in this episode. She's grown so much in the past season. Would the Mary we saw in the very first episode of Downton have gotten up early to wish Matthew good luck at the train? Would she have given him a toy dog as a token (sniff!)? Would she have kneeled to pray for his safe return? That scene really got me.

The other person who impressed me was the Dowager Countess - who would have expected the grand old lady to be the one who would support Sybil going off as a Red Cross nurse? Sitting there in the room where they were packing her up, advising about clothes she won't need a main to get in and out of! She's splendid, it's the only word for it. But then in the same breath she's interfering to prevent Molesley and William from going off to war. She has her own sense of right and wrong, and you can't fault her, in a way. Why should anyone be off to war at all?

And that brings me to Thomas. I watched with horror when he took the bullet to the hand to get himself sent home. On the one hand, he's a devious bastard, who joined the medical corps to stay away from the front in the first place. Then on the other hand, who wouldn't want to stay away from the front? He's clearly been there for a while and done his bit. So cowardly or terribly brave?

And then there's Molesley, who was ok with the Dowager Countess keeping him off the draft list, and goes to the doctor to ask him to keep his mouth shut. Cowardly? Or a sense of self-preservation?

I was outraged by those women at the concert going round handing out white feathers - what right do they have to judge who is brave or not. Do you think that really happened?

You'll note I haven't talked about Anna and Bates. I just can't. I'm too distressed.

I'm so excited to see where the season is going....

I love my life

Catherine makes one random comment about DS9 on Facebook and suddenly I'm sitting at home watching Gargoyles on Youtube and laughing at a comment from one viewer saying: "Goliath and Elisa would kill Edward and Bella."

For reals.

Words to live by

"Live slow, die eventually, leave an indifferently attractive corpse."

God, I love David Mitchell.

Plans for the rest of the week

• Continue packing (sob)
• Fall over packed boxes (sob)
• Ignore the fact that I haven't started any reading for The Thing yet (great start!) and try to pack some more
• Kill the spiders that have been set free by my dislodging their habitat under the bed
• Resist urge to open the boxes that have packed DVDs in them and focus on packing
• Run away to Edinburgh for two days in order to avoid packing
• Seriously consider moving to The Parents' house for two weeks
• Call the council and ask them if I need a permit to burn my belongings on a bonfire out in the carpark.

A head under the duvet day

Today I woke up feeling like poo, and I was due to spend an entire day in a course called "Influencing people". Couldn't face it, so I stayed in bed and watched Gilmore Girls and snoozed. And then I had an hour-long phone call with Leigh and some dinner, and now I'm watching The Great British Bake Off and feeling more equipped to deal with tomorrow.

I don't know how much of my headache, snotty nose and sleepiness was psychological, but fuck it: I'm going to take my mental health\physical health day and go with it.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr

So a month after I start my new job, because my then uberboss wouldn't get his act together and another department picked up my contract, guess what: my uberboss has suddenly decided he needs me back, and has gotten the grand high poobah to assign me to this new project for two weeks, completely overwriting the concerns of my new boss.

Sorry, that looks like a mess written out, but suffice it to say I am now a mixture of annoyed (because I never wanted to leave my original damned department in the first place and I've been really angry with this guy for not getting his act together to keep me), complimented (because he claims I'm the only who can do it), upset (because I was JUST getting into the swing of things in my new department), guilty (because other people are now going to have to pick up my work, so I'm going to have to go crazy next week and get as much off my desk as possible), and confused (because...what? How can a respected organisation be this fecking disorganised?).
I need a cup of coffee.

Now we are 30

The woman on the far right, the one hoarding a platter of free dessert, is the luckiest woman in the world. She's just starting to realise this.

Latest order from Amazon

• Ultimate X-Men Volume 1: Tomorrow People TPB: Tomorrow People v. 1 (Mark Millar)
• The Handbook to Literary Research (Delia da Sousa Correa, W. R. Owens)
• A Companion to the History of the Book (Blackwell Companions to Literature and Culture) (Simon Eliot, Jonathan Rose)
• Gilmore Girls - Season 6 [DVD]
• Gilmore Girls Season 7 [DVD]

Bizarrely, I know W.R. Owens, who edited The Handbook to Literary Research. He goes by Bob, and is very nice, if usually unavailable. I suppose that happens a lot when you do your Thing through your Workplace.

I'm still anxiously awaiting delivery of Meeulanders, which is coming from South Africa and is probably languishing in customs as I type.

And I've just realised that somehow my order of a Star Trek novelisation hasn't processed. Damn!

Three best things about the week so far

1) The plain margarita I had tonight.

2) The smoked margarita I had tonight.

3) Publishing something I've been working on for more than a year.

I'll give you something to ack about

The Friends have all gotten demanding and want me to put a post up. But my whole life right now could be summarised by one word: aaaaaaaaackkkkkkk!

So I'm acking, about stuff. I'm acking about my birthday party, where I will try to combine friends, which always scares me a little. I'm hoping the red wine will ease any bumps. And I was reminded the other day that everyone there will have something in common, i.e. me, but that just makes for more pressure.

I'm acking about moving, because there still so much fucking stuff all over my fucking room, and I don't actually know what to do with it. Yes, I can pack up the boxes, but then what? Where do they go then? There's no room for boxes. And I would really like to see my floor sometime soon. Or maybe I don't, because if I clear the floor then I'll need to vacuum, and I just don't have that kind of energy.

I'm acking about my job, because it's new and it's hard and I don't think I'm very good at it. Yet. I'm sure I will be, but at the moment I really wish I could get a nice dose of flu. Nothing dire, just something to keep me out of work for a week or so, so I could regroup. Except the work would all still be waiting for me when I got back, so what's the point?

I'm acking about money, because I always ack about money.

I'm acking about the furniture I want for my new house, because I don't want to look like I live in a Holiday Inn, but somehow I've only purchased pine furniture in the last two years and I hate pine but it was the only stuff that was available. I think I'll go to Ikea and get two black bookcases to intersperse between my pine ones, and try to break up the pine hell. And I need to get a nice lampshade for my Malawi lamp, even though its proven impossible to wire. It'll make a very nice lampstand anyway. And a nice rug for the floor. And of course the all important sleeper couch. See, lots of acking going on there.

And lastly I'm acking about my sodding MA, which I am excited and TERRIFIED about, because it's been so long since I studied anything, much less did any critical analysis and I don't know if I can remember how. And I still need to buy all my books, so that's something to ack about next month. Why didn't you all STOP me when I was said, oooh, might do my MA. You're all supposed to stand between me and the madness!

The only thing I'm not acking about is turning 30. But I'm sure that will change.

I have about ten reviews to do

I'll get to them, but I'm too busy watching Gilmore Girls.

Packing done so far: exactly as much as before, although I have arranged to pick up boxes from Tesco tomorrow

A sign that the universe doesn't want me to move

Them: Hello!
Me: Is that Oxfam?
Them: Yes!
Me: Are you accepting donations of books and DVDs at the moment?
Them: Wellllllllll. Yes and no.
Me: Ok.
Them: We have a leak and we're closing for two weeks.
Me: Oh shame, how awful.
Them: Yes! I don't know where we're going to put all our stock.
Me: Ok, that's fine.
Them: But we really do want your books and DVDs! Can you hold onto them until we open again?
Me: Welllllllll.
Them: That would be really sweet of you, thank you so much.
Me: Yes, all right, I guess I'll bring them in in a couple of weeks.
Them: That's so sweet of you, thank you for understanding.
Hangs up

So now Oxfam is EXPECTING me. I can't FAIL THEM. So now I have to give up the weeded out preciousses. Although, to be honest, I don't really have a burning desire to keep The Cabbage Soup Diet Book, which I think I may have picked up in a job lot from a carboot.

Of course, this also gives me two more weeks to find more stuff to donate. I might need to add clothes to the pile.

Dammit!

Thing I'm most looking forward to on moving

Not being in one room. I actually feel like my stuff is starting to strangle me. And the minute I put anything down, everything is a mess. I'm actually looking forward to packing it all up in boxes and then being able to put them away in a new place, in more than one room! Such luxury.

The other thing I'm looking forward to is being able to go from one room to the next, instead of moving from chair to ottoman to bed. And there will be doors. Multiple doors.

And a kitchen I can stand in without having to talk to anyone.

And a toilet lid that will always be down.

I can't bloody wait.

Packing done so far: 1 crate of paperwork filed, two bags of books weeded out to go to Oxfam.

Dear Lovefilm

Why send Bad Boys 2 when you can see from my list that I have Bad Boys on there and haven't had it delivered yet? So now I'll return it unwatched and lose out on a rental for the month.

Well done.

Love and kisses

Liz

Mark Kermode pontificates

The Doctor's five best movies of the year so far (not including the Oscar nominations which he saw last year and therefore isn't counting):

5) Julia's Eyes
4) Source Code
3) Senna
2) Le Quattro Volte
1) Benda Bilili

The only entries on this list I actually already decided I wanted to see are Source Code and Senna. I'm not to sure about Julia's Eyes, which looks frankly terrifying. I think I'd be willing to give numbers 2 and 1 a go though, so onto my Lovefilm list they go.

Next week the Doc will have his worst movies of the year. He recently promised he was going to watch The Big Lebowski and hasn't yet provided his review I don't think - maybe he'll shock the masses and pick that one. It would be fairly typical.

Stats are a riot

What percentage of people arrested during the riots have an existing record? Do you think someone will work that out at some point? I think that would be very interesting to know.

Horoscope, by Hayibo

You are ruled by Mercury, which means if you fall on the floor you will split into 200 small silver blobs and it will take an entire Grade 8 Science class to scoop you up and put you back in your bottle.

Chortle

Graphic novel + food?

Sign me up!

GET JIRO! is a futuristic action thriller that takes America’s newfound obsession with exotic cuisine to a manic, violent extreme. It takes place in a world where food and the secrets of how to prepare it are the source of all power leading master chefs to fight over Jiro, a mysterious top-notch sushi chef with ideas of his own.  (From Graphic Content)

 I wonder if The Brother-in-Law would enjoy this? It is written by Anthony Bourdain after all.

When people have nothing to lose

This is the result.

I can't stress enough how much I think young people generally have legitimate grievances.

They do, they absolutely do. But it's the part where they're so disconnected from society, so disaffected, and so disenfranchised, that hurting and damaging the communities many of them live in* seems like a super idea that just shakes me.

And when people act like this, the gulf between them and people who might have been sympathetic, and people who actually have the power to change the status quo, gets bigger and bigger.


Just had such an unexpected and fascinating conversation with a patron of the chippy around the corner (since Tesco was shut in anticipation of rioting, I guess) - an actual conversation that talked about the rioting in terms of issues rather than shoot the bastards. It was refreshing.

How will average people be able to get over what has been done to them? How will these rioters and looters be able to get back to some semblance of normality? What's the conversation that comes next, the - and I hate this word - the dialogue?

How the hell do we bridge this gulf and prevent it from happening again, 30 years from now.

* Catherine just made a really valid point on her blog via a Guardian article that in fact these people don't feel part of any community - so they're not damaging their own.

Stuff everywhere

Stuff all over my room. Stuff in my bag. Stuff in my head. Stuff on my desk. Stuff under my bed. Stuff I want to eat. Stuff I want to eat but shouldn't. Stuff I need to do but don't want to. Stuff I need to do and want to but other stuff keeps getting in the way. Stuff that keeps getting in the way. Stuff to read. Stuff to watch. Stuff to play. Stuff to post. Stuff to copy. Stuff to plan. Stuff to remember. Stuff to forget.

Stuff.

How big a saddo are you, Liz?

I just ordered Meeulanders*, the DVD collection, off of Kalahari with international postage**, as a birthday present to myself.

* And I swear, if I could find Seapatrol on DVD, I would get that too.

** This was actually cheaper in pounds than my last order off of Amazon. How's that for the pound/rand exchange.

At least my subconscious is happy

I dreamt we were in a fish market. We were trying to pick the right fish to buy, but not taking it very seriously. In fact, we weren't very serious at all about the fish, choosing instead to tease each other about our choices. You chose a selection of salmon and tuna fillets, and the long-suffering fishmonger packed them up in a bag for you, all soaked in marinade. "That was what I was going to have," I insisted. "Now I'll have to pick something else." "Pick a nice shellfish," you laughed, and I grumbled and poked at the various lobsters and crabs on offer. Eventually I went for a dressed crab, and even in the dream I thought, mmmm, seafood soup. As I paid for it you laughed, put your arm around my shoulders and cupped my elbow. And I felt warm and content, and cared for.

It'll be fine

So after a week of being incredibly good and planning my meals and having basically no sugar, I've lost half a pound. I was hoping for more, but I'm also being realistic and realising that this probably on show on the scale next week. So I'm still feeling motivated. I know Weightwatchers meetings get a lot of stick, but I actually quite enjoy them. They really feel like a support group, and my leader is really great. So all in all, half a pound, yay!

I officially got "the crate" at work, to pack my desk stuff up in. I start in my new team on 1 August. I had a quick chat with one of my new managers, and she had really nice things to say about me (flattery will get you everywhere) and it sounds like she's really wanting me to go into this role with energy and enthusiasm and try to infect other people with it. This faculty has a bad reputation as far as new and innovative goes. They really don't want to embrace online learning, which unfortunately is where our students want to learn. So this is going to be tough.

I had a really good one-to-one with my current boss today. We both got a bit upset about the move yesterday, and kind of infected each other with negativity. I was really brooding about it last night, and I thought, no, we can't have this. I emailed her last night asking if we could have a coffee and a talk today, and we both apparantly had the same thoughts overnight, and had a decent meeting today. We decided to put our personal upset about the move to the side, and just work with the changes, so I can go down with a clear mind, throw myself into learning a new job (God, ack) and not be worrying about the fact that I've left the team with basically no resources and no time to find anyone else.

She's been an amazing boss, and she's without a doubt my mentor, and she says, we're mates. So it'll be fine!

Three cheers for therapy

I got some nice compliments on my people skills at work today, and now I'm being all grateful like a sap. It's so ironic being thanked for people skills because I find it quite hard work to interact with people. I have to put effort in. I don't mean that I'm faking it, just that I'm thinking about my interactions a lot? It's not sort of natural I guess. But I know that's probably true for the vast majority of people, although some people have an enviable skill for interaction.

There are some days when I use all the skills that Michael the Therapist taught me nine years ago, and I'm so grateful for them. It's hard sometimes to remember them and put them into practice, and it's also hard work to be open, pragmatic, positive, non-judgemental and...what's the opposite of paranoid? The skills he taught me for interacting with people are the ones that I use most though.

I know a lot of who I am now is just due to getting older, but two years of therapy was worth it. Everybody should do it at least once.

Free-floating hopes

And then, a piece of good news, wrapped up in sad, as all good news inevitably is. So now I'm happy and afraid and hopeful. I can live with that. Sorry to be coy, but more news later.

Free-floating fears

I feel like all my anxieties and fears are leaving my body and settling around me like a cloak. It's heavy and thick.

Things I have achieved today

• Not changing out of my pyjamas.
• Finishing my latest book.
• Brushing the dog.
• Drinking a lot of Diet Coke.
• Annoying the hamsters.
• Untying some washing line for my mother.
• Eating grilled cheese and onion sandwiches.
• Not thought about work. Much. Although I checked my email a bit.

Not my problem

At which point is it ok to say, ok, that's not my problem? I'm thinking of work in particular. I feel so responsible when things go wrong, as they often do. Where is the line between my job and what I'm in control of, and getting overly involved?

Worlds within worlds

I've been rewatching Lord of the Rings, and so I've also been rediscovering the incredible lore Tolkein created as part of his writing on Middle-Earth.

I find the idea of whole worlds, cultures and languages being created by authors completely fascinating. It's so easy to get involved in a new world like that - I almost wish that I had discovered Lord of the Rings before Star Trek, because I spent so much time absorbing the world of the United Federation of Planets, and I could have been memorising all the kings of Gondor instead.

Oh well, it's not too late!

A week from hell

What a truly shitty, horrible, stressful week. My stomach has been in knots. I've expected the sky to fall in at any moment.

And then, thank goodness, today emails flew around that cut people down to size, and offered actual solutions to problems, instead of petty slaps. And I got a lot done.

I feel better. Still no certainty. But I feel better.

Little Phoetus Philemon

Not to be confused with Curtis the Foetus.

Boy oh boy

So The Sister and The Brother-in-Law and The Nephew found out today that it's another little boy on the way to be a part of their family.

So excited to meet this little person who is going to be joining us (and this time I won't have to wait a whole year before meeting him for the first time). And at least I know how boys work. But it's also going to be very strange, that there will be two instead of one. Strange, and expensive.

Why not?

I think I'm going to set myself a little task, to read all the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction winners. Some I have already read, and I've marked those. As I read them I'll update this post.

1910s

• 1918: His Family by Ernest Poole
• 1919: The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington

1920s

• 1920: no award given
• 1921: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
• 1922: Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington
• 1923: One of Ours by Willa Cather
• 1924: The Able McLaughlins by Margaret Wilson
• 1925: So Big by Edna Ferber
• 1926: Arrowsmith by Sinclair Lewis (declined prize)
• 1927: Early Autumn by Louis Bromfield
• 1928: The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder
• 1929: Scarlet Sister Mary by Julia Peterkin

1930s

• 1930: Laughing Boy by Oliver La Farge
• 1931: Years of Grace by Margaret Ayer Barnes
• 1932: The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
• 1933: The Store by Thomas Sigismund Stribling
• 1934: Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller
• 1935: Now in November by Josephine Winslow Johnson
• 1936: Honey in the Horn by Harold L. Davis
• 1937: Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
• 1938: The Late George Apley by John Phillips Marquand
• 1939: The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

1940s

• 1940: The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
• 1941: no award given ^[2]
• 1942: In This Our Life by Ellen Glasgow
• 1943: Dragon's Teeth by Upton Sinclair
• 1944: Journey in the Dark by Martin Flavin
• 1945: A Bell for Adano by John Hersey
• 1946: no award given
• 1947: All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren
• 1948: Tales of the South Pacific by James A. Michener
• 1949: Guard of Honor by James Gould Cozzens

1950s

• 1950: The Way West by A. B. Guthrie, Jr.
• 1951: The Town by Conrad Richter
• 1952: The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk
• 1953: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
• 1954: No award given
• 1955: A Fable by William Faulkner
• 1956: Andersonville by MacKinlay Kantor
• 1957: No award given^[3]
• 1958: A Death in the Family by James Agee
• 1959: The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters by Robert Lewis Taylor

1960s

• 1960: Advise and Consent by Allen Drury
• 1961: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
• 1962: The Edge of Sadness by Edwin O'Connor
• 1963: The Reivers by William Faulkner
• 1964: No award given
• 1965: The Keepers of the House by Shirley Ann Grau
• 1966: The Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter by Katherine Anne Porter
• 1967: The Fixer by Bernard Malamud
• 1968: The Confessions of Nat Turner by William Styron
• 1969: House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday

1970s

• 1970: The Collected Stories of Jean Stafford by Jean Stafford
• 1971: No award given^[4]
• 1972: Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner
• 1973: The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty
• 1974: No award given ^[5]
• 1975: The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara
• 1976: Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow
• 1977: No award given ^[6]
• 1978: Elbow Room by James Alan McPherson
• 1979: The Stories of John Cheever by John Cheever

1980s

Entries from this point on include the finalists listed after the winner for each year.

• 1980: The Executioner's Song by Norman Mailer
• 1981: A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (posthumous win)
• 1982: Rabbit Is Rich by John Updike
• 1983: The Color Purple by Alice Walker
• 1984: Ironweed by William Kennedy
• 1985: Foreign Affairs by Alison Lurie
• 1986: Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
• 1987: A Summons to Memphis by Peter Taylor
• 1988: Beloved by Toni Morrison
• 1989: Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler

1990s

• 1990: The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love by Oscar Hijuelos
• 1991: Rabbit at Rest by John Updike
• 1992: A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley
• 1993: A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler
• 1994: The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx
• 1995: The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields
• 1996: Independence Day by Richard Ford
• 1997: Martin Dressler: The Tale of an American Dreamer by Steven Millhauser
• 1998: American Pastoral by Philip Roth
• 1999: The Hours by Michael Cunningham

2000s

• 2000: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
• 2001: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
• 2002: Empire Falls by Richard Russo
• 2003: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
• 2004: The Known World by Edward P. Jones
• 2005: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
• 2006: March by Geraldine Brooks
• 2007: The Road by Cormac McCarthy
• 2008: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz
• 2009: Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

2010s

• 2010: Tinkers by Paul Harding
• 2011: A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

Music meme

1. Put Your MP3 player on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!

In the week to come:


1. What will you achieve?
Fall at your feet (Crowded House)

2. What should your motto be?
Mockingbird (Eminem)

3. What’s going to be on your mind?
Lucy in the sky with diamonds (The Beatles)

4. What’ll your best friend be like?
Make your own kind of music (Mama Cass)

5. What’ll happen with the person you like?
Feel (Robbie Williams)

6. What’ll your job be like?
Summer Nights (John Travolta and Olivia Newton John)

7. What will you do with the person you like?
Streets of London (Ralph McTell)

8. What will happen with your hobby/interest?
The kids don't stand a chance (Vampire Weekend)

9. What’ll happen with your friends?
Welcome Home (Radical Face)

10. What’s your goal for the end of the week?
Golden Slumbers (Will Young)

11. How will you feel?
Nightingale (Laura Veirs)

12. What's your outlook on the week to come?
Caramel (Suzanne Vega)

13.What will family relations be like?
Yellow Submarine (The Beatles)

14. What’ll strangers think of you?
Torn (Natalie Imbruglia)

15. What’ll happen with your exes?
Horchata (Vampire Weekend)

16. How will your love life be?
Somethin' Stupid (Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman)

17. What’ll happen with your kids (if you have any)?
Matchstalk Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs (The Original Haughton Weavers)

18.What’ll your employers treat you like?
Don't Panic (Coldplay)

19. What occasions will happen?
Unwell (Matchbox 20)

20. THE SOUNDTRACK OF THIS WEEK:
A boy named Sue (Johnny Cash)

21. If you get drunk, you should get drunk to:
I melt (Rascall Flats)

22. If you have a party, its theme should be:
Sweet Disposition (The Temper Trap)

23. If you’re depressed, you’ll be depro too:
You're the top (Cole Porter)

24. What should you say if things go bad?
Caring is creepy (The Shins)

25. What's the first thing you’ll do?
The last day of the melting snow (The Leisure Society)

26. What will you post this as?
I am a man of constant sorrow (Alison Krauss + Union Station)

Being fiction

I'm having a pretty ok day over here, feeling all right, working, doing my job. And then I went on lunch. I had a Spanish omelette with garlic green beans, a diet coke, two biscuits and a latte. For the first half of my lunch I had to talk to a co-worker who discovered me in the cafeteria and ignored my do not disturb signal. But for the other half I read a book called Suspect, by Jennifer Rowe. It's pretty good.

And then I went back to my office and instead of feeling ok and all right and working, I feel flat and uninspired and generally malcontented.

But it's not me feeling these things, it's Tessa, the detective in Suspect. She's on the trail of a serial killer and has just been dumped by her pratty boyfriend.

I was feeling pretty blue there, until I realised why. Does anyone else experience this?

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

I wish I had been able to read this book when I was 16, or 17, or 18.

It's just a little teen novel, but I know it would have had a profound effect on the person I was then, and would have helped me identify the person I am now a little more quickly.

Why for the Shipping?

Why do we identify characters with chemistry on TV programmes and then hope they'll get together (although often we enjoy the chase more than the actual resolution)? It's as if we actively seek out these relationships - is it just because it's a recognisable and cliched "trope", or is it a natural extension of real life?
 

Online musings

While I was still at Rhodes I became really active on the university forums. I loved it, got really involved and swept away by the giddy thrill that comes with the message board medium. It's a very gratifying (but occasionally frustrating) way of communicating. Being on a forum allows you to create a sense of community that is hard to capture on sites like Facebook.

Anyway, the university got fed up with people trying to use the forums as a place to hawk their services and kicked those of us who were no longer on campus off. I said a fond farewell to Castle Creepy and thought that was the end of the online world.

I was still at The Southern Cross when I found Table Talk, the forum attached to the Salon site. I was really put out that you had to pay to play, but that didn't stop me from lurking like a big lurky thing. I lurked for about three years until I came to the UK and then I paid and started to post.

And it was only then that I discovered a few pockets of community in this mass of discussion (Otters, we call ourselves, don't ask). And I feel as intensely about these online friends as I do about any of my real life friends. Some of these "invisible friends" have become real life friends - we've been on holidays together, visited each other, shared dinner and too much red wine, and really good martinis).

So I was bereft last night when the message went out that Table Talk was being shut down (even The Mother and The Sister were horrified for me: "Oh noes! Now you will have no friends at all!"). We're moving into a new forum, and I'm hoping the tight little community will stay tight. Because it is it's own culture, in a way, with its own myths and lore and beliefs and taboos. Community is about people, not place, so we should be all right.

The Otters will live on!

Oh, Groupon

Wow, Groupon! £25 for a colonic irrigation? Bargain! Sign me up.

Best movie synopsis ever

A warrior priest tracks down vampires in a post-apocalypse sci-fi thriller.

Puzzles

He knows she enjoys crosswords – she annoys Robert by downloading them from the internet and printing them off. She does all the across clues before her first cup of coffee, and then moves onto the down clues. Sometimes he times her for his own amusement. Last Tuesday it took her 10 minutes, but only because she couldn't remember the synonym for “isotherm”. This morning the printer malfunctioned, and she was forced to drink her coffee while staring at the ceiling.

He doesn't know if it's the routine she likes: scribble, sip, scribble; her mind racing along a few minutes ahead of her pencil. Perhaps she just finds it comforting, faithfully filling out blank squares, knowing that each answer leads to another, and that in the end a solution is sure to reveal itself. He could ask her why she enjoys her crossword, but he prefers to observe her murmuring to herself, observe her slight smirk on a Monday (apparently Monday's cruciverbalist is a pushover, preferring clues about dogs), and smiles at her frustration on Sunday (Sunday's cruciverbalist is a sadist, she says, and she is usually only saved by her esoteric knowledge of 18th century furniture).

She doesn't always finish her crosswords. She doesn't throw the unfinished ones away though. He's pretty sure he saw her dig last Wednesday's out of her bag when she went to the bar to get a round of drinks. He wondered what the clue was. Casting his thoughts back to the ribald and inane conversation junior sailors tend to have on shore leave, he's at a loss. Sharks, motorcycles and the cheapest hotels in Bangkok don't tend to make an appearance on a crossword. She likes British crosswords over the ones in the local papers. She doesn't do cryptics. He's not sure why.

And he doesn't quite understand. He likes a pub quiz himself, although it's been a while since he's allowed himself to indulge in one. His strengths are cricket players of the 1950s, Queen's greatest hits, and Humphrey Bogart movies. He doesn't like picture rounds – the sweet young things all look alike to him, and he was never much cop at identifying foreign world leaders.

He's tried his hand at sudoku, but the logic infuriates him. He would prefer to calculate the numbers, like a brainteaser, to manipulating them into place. Occasionally he teases out the chess problems in the Post's letter pages, but strategy is for real life, not a game board. The Rubik's cube on his desk he appreciates. He likes the ongoing thought process of it all, that with a few quick random twists he could be on the path to even colours and peaceful order.

Crosswords are a known and unknown entity. Last Saturday he got to spend a rare day at home. His plans for the day included catching up on the Ashes highlights package and running to earth his other hat. He last saw it in the garage. He thinks. His plans for the day did not include printing off The Guardian's daily quick crossword and making a cup of coffee. He lasted 5 minutes before carefully placing the printed paper down on the table and deciding to search for the hat instead.

It was too hard not to imagine her there: scribble, sip, scribble. Chewing the end of her pencil as she works out the angles. “Lead poisoning,” he imagines himself warning her. “Graphite,” his imagination answers him swiftly, smiling at him as only his imagination allows. It's why he doesn't ask questions about her crossword, tease her about her morning ritual, or tell her how long it took her to untangle 6 down yesterday (2 minutes, 9 letters, the scientific name for a llama). He can't ask her a question, because once he starts he won't be able to stop, and there are questions that demand answers that can't be resolved here.

So he keeps his questions to himself, but finds out from Robert if the printer is working again. He quietly passes her the printed sheet with her mid-morning cuppa. She chuckles and reaches for a pencil. He stares straight ahead at the turbulent grey ocean, and starts the timer on his watch.

The things you learn in Devon

- It's never cold, it's just windy.
- Miss Molly's daughter has succumbed to prostitution and taken the name Westward Ho!
- Religions revolving around arses opens up a world of bum-related humour, which never gets old.
- The National Trust is just a front. In fact, this fine and upstanding organisation is a cover up for a network of hitmen. The victims are turned into compost, to help those lovely gardens grow.
- Gnomes are scary.
- Gnomes are extremely scary.
- Gnomes really are quite terrifying.
- The answer to Twenty Questions rarely involves someone involved in shipping.
- Kites are harder to fly than you think.

Typo of the day

"How the Welsh economy has been restructured following the closure of coal moaning."

Whinge, whinge, whinge. You want to complain about mining? Then feel my wrathe and STAAAAAARVE.

Don't wannas

I have a classic case of same, which is bad, because I have so much damn work to do. I just don't even know where to begin. I might begin by going home and hiding under the duvet. But that also requires effort and motivation and I really don't wanna.

Dear Spammer

Farmville cheats? Really? You're spamming me with Farmville cheats?

Or are there elaborate virusses hidden inside the cheat to get more eggs? Grow more aubergines? Milk more cows?

Farmville cheats.

Saddo.

Love,

Liz

Tragic obsessions

I consider myself an intelligent woman, but combine big ships with naval hotties in camouflage and an unrequited love situation, and I am immediately obsessed.

It's a good thing the hey day of the Internet hadn't QUITE hit when I was in the deepest part of my Voyager obsession - between the fanfic and the fansites and the forums associated with this programme which I will not name, I am never going to leave the house again.

Tragic.

Welcomes

Welcomewelcomewelcome and
warmhandswarmhands
warmarms extend.
Lifted over the threshold by the elbows,
pulled forward by the waist.
Into the pool of light and the joy of a loaded table,
a conversation in
shorthand.

Red-rimmed glasses, gossip, secrets, and
philosophies, re-lost and re-found in the platter and
the fork discarded on the floor.
Met minds
coughed into napkins
soaked into damask
spreading
in wide pools.

Dissected by the carving
knife.
Drowned in the
decanter.
Turned out into
saucers and:

Remade.

Has the curse of the evil housemates finally been lifted?

My housemates have been making garlic bread. I now have a massive craving and will have to go to the shop round the corner and secure some. They have also been having enthusiastic sex all day, but that has thankfully not generated any cravings.
 
My streak of bad luck where housemates are concerned appears to have been broken. The couple I'm sharing with are really nice, friendly, and like to watch over my shoulder as I cook things. We even lend books and DVDs back and forth. It's a nice change.

My new vocation

Why do I have to go to work tomorrow? I feel strongly that my time would be better served sitting at home and watching episodes of Sea Patrol for the umpteenth time. There has to be some money in that? Somehow?

Ponderings

I never crave company in winter, when it seems like company would be more valuable.

But when the sun is shining like it was today, I feel like going out and hunting down my friends. Or maybe it's just a craving to do something else, rather than doing something with someone else i.e. not me.

Hamster update

The wheel works! It spins silently, the hamsters are training for their marathon, and I can't hear a thing. So now I don't have to feel bad that they can't exercise because the noise of their other wheel was keeping me awake.

Boldly going

Oh, Star Trek. How I love you. I've been a fan for a fairly long time, but my loyalty lies to Voyager. It was the first series I really got into. A friend lent me some videos and then it was a long, long wait for it to come back onto South African TV. No such things as catching up online, so I sent some blank videos to my aunt in the UK and she taped the episodes and sent them back. I watched them until they pretty much fell apart.

My favourite character was always Chakotay. I know, I know, solid hair, staid exterior. But I'm a sucker for a wilderness tattoo and an unrequited love for the captain. I didn't like Captain Janeway at all as a teenager. I found her so hard, and single-minded, and often unsympathetic.

But I'm now coming back to watching Voyager after a long Star Trek sabbatical, and I suddenly find myself just loving her. Admiring her character, enjoying her prickliness, appreciating her dilemmas.

I guess it's because I'm older. My views aren't as black and white, and Janeway's character always inhabited the greys. I don't feel as extremely opposed to her positions anymore, because I don't feel as extreme anymore.

Or maybe I just feel sorry for her character, because the bastards killed her off in a post-series book.

Latest order from Amazon

1 x Silent Hamster Wheel

1 x Star Trek Voyager: The Complete Season 2

So the hamsters can run as far as they bloody want, and won't disturb my TV watching. That wheel was driving me nutty.

Friends, friends, everywhere, but not a single one online

Is there anything sadder than having only the Echo/Sound Test Service for company on Skype?

Well, yes, starving children. War. Charlie Sheen's breakdown.

Oh what, so now I'm selfish? Fine. I'll just talk to the hamsters instead. Oh wait, they're not here either. I guess I'll just have to talk to the TV.

I'm so glad I don't have to do THAT anymore

Just watched a Dispatches episode on the general crapness of train travel in England - the delays, the expense, the inpenetrable ticketing system.

Richard Wilson joined the commuter throngs at Reading station, for the early morning slog into London. I did that, for about 6 months. Leaving at 6:30 to catch the 7:00 train, waiting around for half an hour because train after train was crowded or delayed. Half an hour into Paddington, frequently standing all the way. The half an hour became 45 minutes, then the race across the platform to try and get the tube. More standing, from Paddington to Baker's Street, from Baker's Street to Canary Wharf. Standing all the way, with your nose in someone's armpit, trying to read or, more often, snooze on your feet.

And then working late, and reversing the process. But at least if I worked late I got to sit on the train home. It made arriving home at 22:00 much easier.

All for the low, low price of £300 a month. Never again.

Small things

Finally managed to hook my blogger account up with the right Google account. I haven't achieved anything else today so I guess that's something.

Things my nephew has asked me so far this week

- When he will die and go to heaven

- Who the devil is

- Why we can't see God

- Whether boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls

- Why people who "have English skin" have children who look the same

- If Siska is his friend.

Things I should do

- Wash the dishes

- Bring in the washing

- Learn how to make bulleted lists on Blogger

- Tidy away the few clothes left on my floor

- Continue on my quest to tame the hamsters

- Watch The Big Lebowski

- Finish reading Brighton Rock and Love in the Time of Cholera

- Domestos the loo

- Make tea

- Read National Geographic, Time and Empire

- Update my blog with reviews of the movies I've seen recently. And the books I've read.

- Write down the rules to Shivvy so The Sister won't cheat

- Plan the fun yet educational things I will do with The Nephew next week

- Watch The Happening and Afterwards

- Take out the rubbish

Things that are a problem

- I have so much I could be writing about, I just don't seem to have the energy to translate my thoughts into words.

- My car's suspension is making a clunky sound.

- I haven't been to see a movie in three weeks.

- I can't see the floor of my room for all the clothes and rubbish strewn about.

- I have no clean clothes because they're all over my floor, so I'm wearing odd bits that don't quite go together.

- My hamsters think I'm the devil and shriek when they see me.

- The digital switchover is coming and I am not prepared.

- My Weightwatchers leader is emailing me and I'm going to disappoint her tomorrow with my lack of weightloss.

- I haven't sent my Canadian penfriend a letter since December and she probably won't like me anymore.

- The price of petrol makes me want to cry.

- It's two weeks till pay day.

Beside myself

Or, I should be beside myself, that is, outside of myself, that is, separating myself from my emotional reaction. What choo' talkin' 'bout, Liz?

The biggest disagreement my Zen-Like Friend and I have about Zen-like things is my determined position that to be detached from our emotions isn't honest, that we're shortchanging ourselves from the human experience when we say we want to be outside of our feelings.

But I'm starting to wonder if there isn't more of a place for that, and I'm thinking particularly in work situations. I mean, I'm not saying that I'm going around at the moment inflicting my emotions on everyone. But earlier this week someone sent me an email that I thought was unfair. I told my boss what I thought, she agreed, and then I made a further comment, which she said was me being sensitive.

Which is fair comment from her. I am over sensitive. I'm hypercritical of myself, so external criticism, no matter how oblique, is hard for me to take. I do try not to let it take over my brain.

What she means by sensitive is emotional - I react to work situations in an emotional way, which is not appropriate. I'm not crying or snapping or anything. But I'm coming to realise that when you allow an emotional reaction to take over from a logical reaction, you're also opening the door to a situation where you could start ascribing unfair motives to people's actions, or feeling resentful about a meeting, or, or, or. Whether you like it or not, emotional responses are messy. And no, you're not necessarily going to inflict your emotions on people, but allowing the reaction means that you're making it easier for that to happen.

There has to be a middle ground. I have to be able to be honest with myself, and experience my emotions, without it affecting my work. I should be professional, and professionalism is detached. There is only the work, and getting that work done to the absolute best of my ability, to a high standard, on time, to deadline. That's what matters. Not the fact that one of my co-workers drives me batty at every opportunity. Her I can experience emotionally when I get home.