Putting things away

I suck at putting things away. Both practically, and emotionally. I guess I'm hoping that by learning to do the first, I'll somehow trick my brain, my heart, or whichever organ houses emotions to do the same.

Plus, it's just nicer being in a space not covered in clutter and mess.

So: I went to the laundromat today DESPITE the fact that my friend who was meant to come this weekend postponed. Why would that matter? Because normally, I would totally mask the slight whiff of socks with Febreeze, and not bother to do my laundry until emergency time. Emergency time, for those who are unfamiliar with the concept, sees me dressed in hawaiian shirts and going commando in a nod to hygiene, rather than to sassy sexiness or a fear of visible panty line. (It bothers me that VPL has a recognisable acronym. I mean, there are other crimes of clothing that are so much more offensive. Starting with sock-bite. That's WAY more upsetting - victims of malicious socks leaving gnaw-marks on your ankles, unite!). Anyway. It wasn't emergency time, my friend wasn't coming, so shame over my housekeeping wasn't impending, and i STILL did my laundry.

Gangster.

The laundromat was a mixed bag. Expensive as heck - it may turn out to cost me almost the same to drop off my laundry there - and kind of skanky. Still, cute boy. Weighing up cute boy versus nasty baby roaches in terms of divine omens in support of my doing laundry? Tough call. Still, I vanquished one of said roaches. Humanity 1, Roaches 0. Always good to know that you're taking one for the team.

Plus, I actually put all my clean, FOLDED things in drawers when I got back. Instead of leaving them in their bags. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Massive Adult points for La Fitz.

Also headed over to co-op and stocked up on food for weekend. Impressivo. Returned to make myself dinner. have recently been reviewing my eating choices. I've been a vegetarian since I was 16. Meat just hasn't been something I eat. It has long since stopped being something I think about. It's just what I do, because I made an ethical decision about it when I was a kid.

This, of course, makes no sense. I think the human body completely regenerates its cells ever 7 to 8 years. Thus, I have, on a very basic physical level, become a different person TWICE since I made the decision to stop eating meat. But I still stick to it, because 'it's what I do". Well, I'm re-examining that. There are lots of things about vegetarianism which make sense to me still - but I want to explore. And be healthy. And change old, dull patterns. Putting them away.

Banally, these epic changes start with eating turkey and chicken...

Allow me to inform you that turkey bacon is the gateway meat, as much as marijuana is the gateway drug. Sweet lord, that stuff is good! Had never tried it before, but will revisit. SOON.

Oh, and in the finest Operation Adulthood move to date, I then did all my dishes. Even though my roommate is out of town.

And put the dishes away.

Insoles

Just bought, and am now wearing, my first ever insole-foot-support thingies.

Comfy as heck.

Glad no-one can see them, though. I mean, I have barely passed the stage where I would only wear Birks or nothing at all, and now my aching, ancient limbs need special, Dr Scholl-y care.... What's up with that?

When did Operation Adulthood become Operation Geriatric?!

Anxiety

Just looked at writing workshop websites (oh, sweet alliteration! I don't care that you're untrendy and uncouth - you always make me feel clever, like the first couple of questions in game shows), and it gave me massive pangs of anxiety.

This is either because it is what I want to do and I am filled with dread of failure and shortcomings and of actually diving back into what i failed to do before OR it's a divine sign (from my stomach where, incidentally, all my- limited!- wisdom lies) that I should not bother with the writing.

Note - two of my most embarrassing failures to date are the two novels I have started and gotten about a third way into. Embarrassing, because I very rarely admit to myself that I really want something, and I very rarely commit to doing anything. I did, with one of em, and I got nowhere. I barely wrote, and I now lug moleskin upon moleskin of notes around with me when I move, a ballast of both failure and hope for improvement.

At least writing about Operation Adulthood is going smoothly. Small mercies!

Focusing, or Limiting?

For a while, I've been wondering "What took me so long?" about the whole adulthood gig. One of the reasons, I think, is because I've long been smitten by the incredible choices available to me. Should I live in Asia, or North America, or Europe? (Or somewhere else - I was seriously planning to move to Cuba in spring of 2010. So much so, that I was actually googling apartments. Which, incidentally, is more foresight than I've had for most of my moves). Should I be a writer, an academic, a marketeer, a professional horseback rider or a music promoter or ... something else?

All of this was great when it was either daydreams - as when I was a child - or when I felt I had unlimited time and absolutely no sense of consequences. (That would be... until about six months ago. Oops.). And I've come to a realize a couple of things about this approach - that I don't tend to do much at all, because I either can't choose or I stop doing things when they get difficult, or I end up having surface knowledge of lots of things and very little specialised knowledge. (The latter is known as "being a journalist". Apart from the fact that journalists actually have to write lots. Which I quit doing a couple of years ago.).

But what I like about that approach, that fluid, liquidy approach to what I do and where I live and who I am, is that it means I still believe that daydreams and desires are totally valid. And I want to be that - both for myself, and for other people.

Earlier today, I was talking to a friend of mine, who is normally one of those great and supportive and interesting people. Love this girl. But I've noticed something about her. She's NOT supportive of her friends when it comes to trying to break into the entertainment industry. I've heard her recount multiple reasons for why they shouldn't do it, why they're not good enough, talented enough, driven enough, too old, unwilling to train, all sorts of totally legitimate reasons...

But they're not the REAL reason why she doesn't think they can do things. She thinks they can't because SHE doesn't. Not "can't" - "doesn't". She's a deeply talented musician herself, but has so much anxiety built up around making music that she can barely pick up her guitar. So she seems to have decided that 'this is it' - the business she operates is going really well, even though she's not super happy doing it, and her private life is going from strength to strength. But she's disappointed - maybe she doesn't know it, but I do.

I'm not judging her for this; maybe she'll work it out, maybe she'll be happy doing what she does, maybe she's right and her other friends will either man up and go on with what they want to do, or maybe they legitimately aren't good enough - but I realised that that's not what I want for myself. I want to focus without limiting; myself, and others. I want to be someone who has those daydreams and encourages them in others, while actually making them happen - so my adult world is more like daydreams, rather than daydreams being lost to the "adult" world.

In the interest of Full Disclosure

I also spent an hour and a half on the phone, talking about how I don't have enough time to do things I need to do (school, mainly).

Now I feel super-guilty. Either I need to give myself the time to do things I enjoy, or stop feeling guilty about everything.

Doing so well, until you're not

This was supposed to be a super celebratory post. As in, I had a few truly masterfully Adult days.

Consider the following:

I found a yoga class I like, which only costs 12 dollars, and I'm now in good enough shape to be able to do chattaranga (that's what it sounds like - basically, a half-way held pushup which hurts like a beast) for AGES and repeatedly, without dying. So I'm in way better shape than I've been for a long time, which is cause for celebration. And I'm saying no to things that are on Mondays because I like the class and I need to establish routines.

I bought bedding for my room and some new clothes. These are not big steps for anyone else, but they are for me. Adults have nice bedsheets and blankets and pillows, as well as clothes that don't have holes in them. Until yesterday evening, I had neither. After almost three hours in Marshalls', I now have both. (As a complete aside, discount or outlet stores like Marshall's may well be the main reason why American consumers are in such truly insane credit card debt. Everything is sort-of cheap, and the in-store marketing is IN YOUR FACE, but SEDUCTIVE - not entirely unlike some sleazy Mediterranean men I've dallied with in the past - so it's hard to resist, even though you know better. Case in point: the hangers in the women's changing rooms are entitled "definitely" and "possibly". Insidious stuff). As making my bed on a daily basis is part of Operation Adulthood, having the right equipment is key. And being consistently dressed like a street urchin reeks of arrested development. So I'm proud of that effort.

It has taken my supervisor three weeks to get back to me, so I exchanged a couple of emails with her, using my near-miraculous leverage to move my exam-thingy forward a month.

Also, I made dinner out of LEFT OVERS the other day (the fact that I'm really not sure whether that should be one word or two indicates how bloody rare it is that I have them). That is totally the most adult meal ever. It means that you have things in the fridge because you eat at home regularly, that you have a sense of when they're going to expire so you're endorsing the "waste not, want not" ethic, and that you are very, very sensible. (Was it great food? No. But it was fine).

But then... I still have days like today. Where I didn't sleep well. The dogs were annoying. My boss-friend is flipping out over her life (legitimately, but still; it's difficult being both a good, supportive, friend, and someone's slightly disgruntled employee. The two positions are kind of mutually exclusive. And I'm rubbish at navigating them). Dropped my new, pretty purple fleece, bought yesterday. Came back within five minutes and someone had taken it. Gutted, and with lots of angry feelings of "this is why you don't deserve nice things!". Then, I had to spend 700 dollars on a ticket back to London for four days on exactly the dates when I don't want to go - it's for school, and I really don't want to do it. Or spend more than 500 dollars doing so. I meant to do all sort of productive things after work but my brain just sank into a morass and ended up just watching a couple of shows online.

Felt deeply sorry for myself when a poignant song came on in a totally unexpected place - like, the song the guy you're still smitten with but who "can't have a relationship right now" sent you a couple of months ago about wanting to fall in love, but holding out on you SHOULD NOT be in family friendly entertainment. They have warning signs for nudity and violence: Sarah Bareilles' "Gravity" is EXTREME emotional nudity and violence for me. Fuck you, Television. Not OK. Had a little heartbroken cry, then attempted to set up an online dating profile, but realised the only guys I found attractive look like my recent ex. Not ideal. Recognise all the "it's been long enough/you need to get over it/move onwards and upwards young lady/find another guy/best way to get over someone is by getting under someone else" stories I should be telling myself, but am not quite there emotionally. Actually, I'm totally not there emotionally. But I'm trying to be, because I'm more likely to hear the sound of one hand clapping than the guy in question calling me and saying, "Hey, I miss you and I'm sorry things went the way they did, and there's nothing in the world I'm more excited about than you and I spending time together again and having our relationship grow and develop. And I want us to just be around each other and talk and be and discover each other and get bored with the everydayness of everything." Zen Master La Fitz knows at least that some things cannot be achieved through wishing. (Zen Master Fitz also knows that online stalking is the way of darkness, and has never yielded happiness. One day, she will develop complete resistance to this tomfoolery. This would be most helped if social media did not send continuous updates while she is attempting to commune with other friends. Zuckerberg, you're a bitch, and you know it.).

So, basically, a rubbish day. It doesn't undo my good Operation Adulthood work in the last couple of days. But I'm SO IMPATIENT. I want everything to be fine RIGHT NOW. And I mean everything. And I mean Right Now. I guess I need to bear in mind that it has taken me a fair long while to get into the sort of mess I've been in, so part of the OA needs to be mastering some sort of patience.

Which really, to use an aptly childish phrase, sucks.