I've found it quite hard to face up to what I owe. Mostly, it's because I'm annoyed that I owe anything at all. But that's done. I am where I am, and am just going to have to deal. I'm really chuffed, though, that I can look at my spreadsheets and money diary (God help me, I have a money diary) and know that I will be DEBT FREE BY 35.
And it's a long way from 35 to 65, or whatever the hell the government decides pensionable age will be in the future.
I really wish there was a magical bullet, that would get me to zero in a day. And I wish I didn't feel such shame at being where I am. But there we go. My Protestant work ethic comes with a side order of Protestant shame.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
In the wee, small hours of the morning
Sleep has been in short supply this week, for no reason I can discern. I've always been kind of a poor sleeper, but this has largely been solved over the last few years by medication and general improvement in mood.
At my worst, I was getting about an hour or two of tortured sleep a night. Lying awake, worrying about the world ending, or lack of money, or if I was a failure as a human being, or if I had sent the newspaper to press without any advertising, or - a personal favourite - replaying all the conversations I had had that day and cataloguing the ways in which I had made a fool of myself.
The world is a crummy, crummy place on lack of sleep. Being in your 20s is bad enough without adding the distorted prism of drama that we all seem to embody at that age, together with just enough shut eye to be upright, but not enough to actually have conversations.
Insomnia means not having quite as thick a skin as you would normally. It means taking things a little more personally than you ought to. It means not grasping easy concepts, and feeling like an idiot.
And the worst, absolute worst, is that insomnia is the loneliest feeling in the world. I don't get lonely, as a rule. It's one of the core tenets of Liz, which is not always a good thing, but that's a post for a different day, perhaps. But being awake when the world is asleep, and not having a reason for being awake, is just brutally alone-making.
So I suppose I should be grateful that this bout of wakefulness is a blip, and probably has more to do with too much tv than anything dire. That my mind is more clear, and less fraught and anxious. That I'm more able to take the anxious thoughts I do have and place them into context, and not be swept away by them. And that I can put out a hand in the dark and touch a sleepy cat, or lie still and be soothed by someone else's breathing, and feel a little better.
At my worst, I was getting about an hour or two of tortured sleep a night. Lying awake, worrying about the world ending, or lack of money, or if I was a failure as a human being, or if I had sent the newspaper to press without any advertising, or - a personal favourite - replaying all the conversations I had had that day and cataloguing the ways in which I had made a fool of myself.
The world is a crummy, crummy place on lack of sleep. Being in your 20s is bad enough without adding the distorted prism of drama that we all seem to embody at that age, together with just enough shut eye to be upright, but not enough to actually have conversations.
Insomnia means not having quite as thick a skin as you would normally. It means taking things a little more personally than you ought to. It means not grasping easy concepts, and feeling like an idiot.
And the worst, absolute worst, is that insomnia is the loneliest feeling in the world. I don't get lonely, as a rule. It's one of the core tenets of Liz, which is not always a good thing, but that's a post for a different day, perhaps. But being awake when the world is asleep, and not having a reason for being awake, is just brutally alone-making.
So I suppose I should be grateful that this bout of wakefulness is a blip, and probably has more to do with too much tv than anything dire. That my mind is more clear, and less fraught and anxious. That I'm more able to take the anxious thoughts I do have and place them into context, and not be swept away by them. And that I can put out a hand in the dark and touch a sleepy cat, or lie still and be soothed by someone else's breathing, and feel a little better.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Irritable sigh
One day, I will grow out of taking things so personally. I need to do this fast, or the managing people part of the job will go south, and quickly.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
A note from the archive
Monday, April 10, 2006
You know what they say about an untidy desk...
To give you some insight into my untidy mind, here are the full and engrossing contents of my desk at work (my desk at home is a whole other story, involving several dog toys, five cent pieces and some pens that met with a tragic accident):
A computer. Apple Mac. Called The Light. A misnomer as it mostly drives me crazy by requiring frequent restarting, which takes on average 10 minutes. Also has a tendency to randomly shut down Quark, mostly right before we go to print. The resultant swearing is loud and creative.
A keyboard. Attached to Apple Mac. Is covered in tea stains and ooh, is that a crumb? Huh, when last did I have Fritos?
A scanner. You'd think a national newspaper would have moved beyond a 5-year-old flatbed scanner. You'd think wrong.
Two in trays. Top one contains new community photographs, thoughtfully sent in by Catholics around the country to torture me with their graininess and penchant for snapping black people, wearing white vestments, against a black background. Also blank cds for when I get round to backing up last year's issues. Like that's going to happen. Bottom tray contains a mass of application forms, pictures for the now defunct children's page, copies of threatening letters to writer of now defunct children's page, competition entries I forgot about (oops) and a board game I was supposed to review but hope the editor has forgotten about. Also an outdate postcode book which I misplaced and replace with the outdated postcode book from admin (I should give that back to them sometime). Scraps of interviews I did last year sometime. Cartoons for still active youth page. Deadline sheet for youth page that writer had better pay attention to. Pieace of paper on which I keep track of how often the journalist uses the words "pointed out" in a story. Scrap of paper with possible music compilation scribbled on it.
Filing cabinet filled with old issues, old community pictures and new community pictures. On top of filing cabinet - two whiteboard erasers, some whiteboard markers and a zip drive that hasn't been used since the month I started working here.
Box of blank scrap paper for making a bazillion notes I then lose. Also useful for cutting out snowflakes to the amusement of deskmate.
Ruler. Was 1m, now a little over 45cm.
Paste up sheets for this week's ads.
Copy of "leadership" magazine that editor leaves on my desk as a cruel joke.
Copy of Catholic Directory. Now out of date because the pope died and priests move around with no forwarding address.
Book containing list of tortuous community pictures. Several books with kids games that are now no longer necessary. Dictionary. Book with shortcuts and style guide.
Time magazine.
Box of extra strength disprin.
Pot of fig flavoured lip balm (it's sparkly)
Piece of paper reminding myself that the last time I backed up the newspaper was Feb 23, 2005.
Cellphone.
Filofax stuffed with little pieces of paper.
Small scrap paper holder.
Broken mug containing an assortment of pens, highlighters and several pencils, one of which reads Jesus Loves Me, a gift from a coworker (oy).
Community pics for this week.
An entire story thoughtfully written in longhand and faxed.
Half empty tube of nivea soft.
Wow, I need to throw stuff out. I would but the box under my desk is full.
PATTOTE - Better living through packratting
You know what they say about an untidy desk...
To give you some insight into my untidy mind, here are the full and engrossing contents of my desk at work (my desk at home is a whole other story, involving several dog toys, five cent pieces and some pens that met with a tragic accident):
A computer. Apple Mac. Called The Light. A misnomer as it mostly drives me crazy by requiring frequent restarting, which takes on average 10 minutes. Also has a tendency to randomly shut down Quark, mostly right before we go to print. The resultant swearing is loud and creative.
A keyboard. Attached to Apple Mac. Is covered in tea stains and ooh, is that a crumb? Huh, when last did I have Fritos?
A scanner. You'd think a national newspaper would have moved beyond a 5-year-old flatbed scanner. You'd think wrong.
Two in trays. Top one contains new community photographs, thoughtfully sent in by Catholics around the country to torture me with their graininess and penchant for snapping black people, wearing white vestments, against a black background. Also blank cds for when I get round to backing up last year's issues. Like that's going to happen. Bottom tray contains a mass of application forms, pictures for the now defunct children's page, copies of threatening letters to writer of now defunct children's page, competition entries I forgot about (oops) and a board game I was supposed to review but hope the editor has forgotten about. Also an outdate postcode book which I misplaced and replace with the outdated postcode book from admin (I should give that back to them sometime). Scraps of interviews I did last year sometime. Cartoons for still active youth page. Deadline sheet for youth page that writer had better pay attention to. Pieace of paper on which I keep track of how often the journalist uses the words "pointed out" in a story. Scrap of paper with possible music compilation scribbled on it.
Filing cabinet filled with old issues, old community pictures and new community pictures. On top of filing cabinet - two whiteboard erasers, some whiteboard markers and a zip drive that hasn't been used since the month I started working here.
Box of blank scrap paper for making a bazillion notes I then lose. Also useful for cutting out snowflakes to the amusement of deskmate.
Ruler. Was 1m, now a little over 45cm.
Paste up sheets for this week's ads.
Copy of "leadership" magazine that editor leaves on my desk as a cruel joke.
Copy of Catholic Directory. Now out of date because the pope died and priests move around with no forwarding address.
Book containing list of tortuous community pictures. Several books with kids games that are now no longer necessary. Dictionary. Book with shortcuts and style guide.
Time magazine.
Box of extra strength disprin.
Pot of fig flavoured lip balm (it's sparkly)
Piece of paper reminding myself that the last time I backed up the newspaper was Feb 23, 2005.
Cellphone.
Filofax stuffed with little pieces of paper.
Small scrap paper holder.
Broken mug containing an assortment of pens, highlighters and several pencils, one of which reads Jesus Loves Me, a gift from a coworker (oy).
Community pics for this week.
An entire story thoughtfully written in longhand and faxed.
Half empty tube of nivea soft.
Wow, I need to throw stuff out. I would but the box under my desk is full.
PATTOTE - Better living through packratting
The slightly less navel gazey post I was going to write
April 2013 - a quarterly review:
1) I can be a project manager. It's hard, but I can do it.
2) And even if I decide not to, the university is a great place with lots of options.
3) This year started with Leigh being here, after three years of not being here, and that contact high will last ages.
4) I have decent friends, an abundance.
5) There [is] a boy; a very strange enchant[ing] boy.
6) I have my little bit of earth, and I'm thrilled to be making it into something.
7) I will be debt free by the time I turn 35.
8) There are an astonishing number of books in the world, just waiting to be read.
9) Ditto movies.
10) I have cats. Ginger ones. Two.
1) I can be a project manager. It's hard, but I can do it.
2) And even if I decide not to, the university is a great place with lots of options.
3) This year started with Leigh being here, after three years of not being here, and that contact high will last ages.
4) I have decent friends, an abundance.
5) There [is] a boy; a very strange enchant[ing] boy.
6) I have my little bit of earth, and I'm thrilled to be making it into something.
7) I will be debt free by the time I turn 35.
8) There are an astonishing number of books in the world, just waiting to be read.
9) Ditto movies.
10) I have cats. Ginger ones. Two.
Tuesday, April 02, 2013
I was going to write about one thing but now I'm writing about something else
I was going to write a fairly chipper quarter year review, because 2013 hasn't treated me too shabbily so far. But then as I dragged scrap wood around my allotment, I got to thinking about carelessness, and how I get careless with people. Particularly the people I care about most.
A lot of the time it's what I say; I get flippant when I feel overwhelmed, and it probably seems like I'm minimising the other person's worry, or concern, or confidence, or even affection.
And sometimes it's because I'm so wrapped up in my own selfish world, so busy thinking about how stuff affects me, that I don't listen, or see, until it's too late, or I've caused hurt, or made someone feel like I'm judging them.
And I know we all hurt people, it's inevitable. But I worry that it all stacks up. That all this carelessness could get too run-of-the-mill.
Must be better. Better daughter, better sister, better friend.
I don't know. I should have had my iPod with me while lugging wood around. Kept the thinking to a minimum.
A lot of the time it's what I say; I get flippant when I feel overwhelmed, and it probably seems like I'm minimising the other person's worry, or concern, or confidence, or even affection.
And sometimes it's because I'm so wrapped up in my own selfish world, so busy thinking about how stuff affects me, that I don't listen, or see, until it's too late, or I've caused hurt, or made someone feel like I'm judging them.
And I know we all hurt people, it's inevitable. But I worry that it all stacks up. That all this carelessness could get too run-of-the-mill.
Must be better. Better daughter, better sister, better friend.
I don't know. I should have had my iPod with me while lugging wood around. Kept the thinking to a minimum.
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