An enraged Tom got me to read this article today.

saying goodbye.

A few hours from now we are going to say goodbye to our beautiful little pup of twelve years. I grieved for him six months ago, when this subject was first broached. But we weren't ready then. We weren't ready to say goodbye. I didn't expect I would have to grieve so greatly this time; I had known so long that his days with us were numbered. But once the tears started falling I was useless to stop them. I felt his loss throughout my entire body. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to say that last goodbye. But how I feel doesn't matter; I don't live with him anymore, I don't know how bad things get. How bad he gets. The unbiased voice in my head knows it's time, but I've been fighting that voice. I had thought that I was fighting for him, but the way to fight for him now is to let him go.

reassessing my relationship with food

I read this article the other day about the differences in eating habits between French and American cultures. The whole time I was reading it, I was nodding along to all of the French eating habits as if I, too, maintained a healthy relationship with food.

But then a couple of days later I was serving a lady at the cafe and she was umm-ing and ahh-ing about a slice of cake. Finally she decided that she 'deserved to be a little naughty' and I laughed and agreed, but in that same moment I was having a bit of a head-slapping moment. Something shifted and I realised that, like her, I was actually subscribing to a very western relationship with food.

As a teenager I was dreadfully skinny. I could eat anything I wanted and never gain a pound. But times passes and bodies change and as a result so too has my relationship with food. At least this is how I've explained things to myself. It doesn't all come down to this, necessarily. I certainly did gain more womanly hips the closer I came to leaving my teens behind, but I also lost something: a regular and predictable routine. With the blessed benefits of hindsight, I can see that what really happened at this time was that my eating habits changed. I was no longer made to wait until the scheduled class breaks to sate my hunger; I ate when I felt the very first twinge of hunger. And quickly this proved to be every two hours when left to my own devices.

I found myself more and more inclined to purchase my lunch rather than to make it in the morning and I always had access to more food if I so desired.
I had unwittingly adopted the more detrimental of eating habits of out Western culture.
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the new design is live!

It's time to say goodbye to this old thing:

... and say hello to this:

Click through to have a look around. I'm really pleased with the final product. It feels much more me. It's clean and simple and I think a whole lot easier on the eyes than it's forefather.

Let me know if you come across any odd bugs, but I think it should be functioning perfectly. I'll be back to regular posting tomorrow. Hope you all had a lovely weekend! x

an intervention re: your destructive relationship with food

I am sure I'm not alone in saying that my relationship with food could do with some work. I'm also sure that I'm not the only person who had developed destructive patterns of though in regards to eating -without even realising that I had done so. Recently I have come to realise that in the past few years I've adopted some behaviours that don't serve me very well. The problem is that those thought patterns that I have realised are destructive are also the ones that are more and more common, even celebrated, in our image-obsessed society.

When you are surrounded by a society obsessed with body image, it's difficult to acknowledge the absurdity of it all.

It's very telling that most of the people who buy cakes from the coffee shop at which I work preface their order with "I really shouldn't, but..." or "oh, okay, I'll be naughty". I don't think that eating a slice of cake with your coffee is going to put you on Santa's naughty list, but even I have found the icing of my cake laced with a little bit of guilt. In a culture of excess, it often feels like you can have all or nothing; we've given up on the happy medium in between. Cake is no longer a treat, it's a naughty naughty thing, and that makes it all the more enticing.

I have not yet submitted to that dreaded word "diet", and yet to a small extent, I still participate in that slightly absurd bargaining system to permit myself one of those 'sometimes treats'. Something that should be perfectly simple and is entirely essential to our existence has become scary and complicated. Eating is less pleasurable and moo anxiety-inducing.

The increased popularity of health food among the masses demonstrates that 'we' can see a problem, but we are blind to the solution because we're still bombarded with the ridiculous idea that food is the enemy. It seems to me that in order to shift the onus of responsibility, we have made food the enemy, not our own willpower. And so the health food craze has come to save the day; the white knight who will save our idea of food forever.

I have a few thoughts on the solution to this dilemma.

Lazy Morning Links

It's been quite some time since I write a link post, but I'm planning to keep it up at least fortnightly from now on. I'm not promising weekly like I ought to because sometimes I simply don't have enough links I wish to share.

Rebekah of Top With Cinnamon shared 16 delicious (looking) yoghurt toppings that I want to try.

Parties we should have instead of weddings.

Dad linked me to this great post by Stephen Fry: Only the Lonely.

Because it's really disappointing that kids aren't taught these days: what learning cursive does for your brain.

The daily routines of famous authors.

I haven't seen Jerk, but out of context I am absolutely loving this hilarious scene.

how is your relationship with food?

Lately I've come to realise that my relationship with food is not as healthy as I think it ought to be. As a teenager I was dreadfully skinny. I could eat anything I wanted and never gain a pound. But times passes and bodies change and as a result so too has my relationship with food.

It really snuck up on me; I think that I allowed this destructive relationship go unnoticed purely because it is so very common, often expected, of women in our society. It's a very Western view, one that I certainly did not maintain as a teenager. When I could eat what I wanted, I naturally never associated any guilt or desperate desire or other negative feelings with any foods. I ate what I liked and I ate as much as I liked.

Now though, I have noticed a more destructive pattern has emerged over the last few years. My relationship with food has shifted from something reasonable and healthy to one that is wrought with anxiety and, often, guilt. I have adopted, perhaps not to the same dangerous extent as some, the mindset of women in Western society, in particular, who are concerned with their body image. 

We seem to be encouraged to

'naughty foods'

We've come to categorise foods like Santa's Christmas list. 

The kind of relationship I'm talking about is one where:

• Foods are categorised like Santa's Christmas list: there are the 'good' foods and the 'naughty' foods and seemingly no grey area in between.
• Food serves purposes other than sustenance, such as for comfort or reward or an aide to boredom
• A whole lot of emotional baggage, especially guilt, is associated with eating particular foods
• One participates in an absurd bargaining system to validate unwise food choices

I looked unhealthily thin back then, so I don't now look back on my younger, more slender body with sadness or longing, but I have realised recently that I miss my old relationship with food.

I use food to treat myself, I treat sweet food as 'naughty food' and bargain with myself about what I can and can't have and when.

I'm beginning to wonder what begat what. Do I treat food differently because my body started to, or has my body mass begun to fluctuate as a result of my worsened relationship with my diet? When I could eat whatever I like, I'm not us that I actually ate so much. I nev er worried about food. He'll, I never really gave it much thought. I enjoyed it when I had it and I continued with my day. But I've started to associate food with anxiety. I no longer have to go hours until school will let me eat my lunch. At the first sign of hunger (or boredom), I head to the fridge.

1. Set the table. 

One thing that really stood out for me is that without a set lunch time I no longer take time to enjoy my food. I eat in front of the computer while writing or at the by least, reading my RSS feed. Time spent enjoying food is not time wasted, and I want to make us that I take at least half an hour to sit and focus solely on enjoying my food, eating it slowly and savouring each bite.

2. Give up on the guilt. 

Naughty foods seem so much more enticing than they end up being. You always want what you can't have, but you can't enjoy it because it gives you that guilty feeling in your gut. What's the point?

3. Let yourself be hungry

Create rituals around meal times that you look forward to. Stop snacking because it will ruin your appetite and is a product of our ridiculous societal idea that we must be doing something at all times or else were lazy or unproductive.

4.

lately: creativity & life joy

I promised I'd blog, but my focus has been elsewhere and the words have not flown freely. I've been working on a creative project I'm hoping to get underway quite soon and have been happily consumed by that glorious phase of lofty idealising and brainstorming. I'll spare you the details because this project is (obviously) still in it's infancy and also because I like the idea of putting people in suspense.

Also consuming much of my time is my complete overhaul of the design of this blog. Even if you've only followed me for a matter of weeks, you'll probably have noticed that i have a weakness for tweaking the design little by little. Sometimes it's the header, sometimes the font, but over time the whole design has become completely unrecognisable to what it was before. Or before that. If you were an occasional reader you couldn't be blamed for assuming it was an entirely different blog. As the author, I'm constantly frustrated by the incomplete feeling of the space. How can it ever be finished if it never felt cohesive in the first place? So I've started from scratch, and I'm hoping that I'll end up with something that I'll like enough to stop pursuing that intangible perfect layout by making those irritatingly minute changes every. other. week.

In other news, that early morning ritual of ours that I have raved about (too) many times in the past is back and I'm very happy about it. It eroded into late, headachy rising when I stopped working in a coffee shop and Tom started finding himself working on his thesis more productively in the middle of the night. But! Tom's thesis is finished and he has completed Honours and I am back making coffee for early morning commuters. Early morning rising is back and I remember why I loved it so. I'm actually back at the same place I was earlier in the year, the two staff of our tiny shop had to be let off for five months due to nearby infrastructure works sending our customers elsewhere. I love being back and seeing all of my old favourite customers again. I am surprised to see that my memory has retained everyone's regular coffee orders and wondering if that might perhaps explain why I can never remember useful information.

Just some thoughts and updates. I have so much I want to say and so little patience to sit here and write it all down. Yet. I'll let you know when I unveil the new layout; I'm excited to say goodbye to this one.

ps. Royal Baby Boy Presented To Public In Traditional Manner (I laughed)

feeling creative

I promised I'd blog, but my focus has been elsewhere and the words have not flown freely. I've been working on a creative project I'm hoping to get underway and have been happily consumed by the initial phase of lofty idealising and brainstorming. I'll spare you the details because this project is (obviously) still in it's infancy and also because I like the idea of putting people in suspense.

Also consuming much of my time is my complete overhaul of the design of this blog. Even if you've only followed me for a matter of weeks, you'll have noticed my weakness for tweaking the design little by little. Sometimes it's the header, sometimes the font, but over time the whole design has become completely unrecognisable to what it was before. Or before that. If you were an occasional reader you'd assume it was a different blog and if you were the author, you'd never feel like it was finished because it never was to begin with. So I've started from scratch, and I'm hoping that I'll end up with something that I'll like enough to stop pursuing that intangible perfect layout.

distraction

You may have noticed that I haven't delivered on my promise of posting more regularly. You might also have noticed in the past that I have displayed a serious issue for tweaking my blog design/header by just a little bit on a fairly regular basis.

The two are related. I've been distracted by a design overhaul. I've started from scratch rather than attempting to work from what I have, and I'm aiming to create a design that will keep me reasonably happy for the forseeable future so that I can stop fiddling with my design and confusing anyone who visits. I'm expecting to be done in a week or so, but since I have become singularly obsessed with the process it might well be a whole lot sooner. I'll make no promises.

Obviously from my last post you can see that I've been overthinking my return to University. Most people would consider me mad, but past expereince has proven the need for me to be entirely serious and determined to put in the work as well as the dreaming.

bridging the gap

Buffy: I thought it was gonna be like in the movies -- you know, inspirational music, a montage: me sharpening my pencil, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage, I have glasses. But real life is slow, and it's starting to hurt my occipital lobe.

The past couple of weeks have seen me obsessively contemplating a return to University in the new year. I say obsessively because I have become consumed by the prospect. Previous attempts at higher education have not been particularly successful endeavours for me, and I am torn by my desire to start right away and my fear that I’m not quite ready.

I have always carried with me a highly romanticised idea of University. I think this, more than anything, even more than the problems I've encountered with mental health, is the reason I've not yet managed to complete an undergraduate degree. Because real life is slow and, well, real. Real life is more than just that series of stills I've carried around in my head in which I am balancing a coffee atop a pile of books, sitting wholly immersed in a big important text, participating in intellectual debate about the influences that brought about the Russian Revolution. No, real life demands you complete the required readings and attend the less inspiring lectures also. In real life, you work hard and curse the whole system and write into the earliest hours of the morning and give yourself a headache from the computer glare. In real life, things don't always feel like a sunny day at the park. 

I have been my own worst enemy when it comes to my education. I want so badly to be that person in my head, but I've been unwilling to do the work that comes with that reality. I’ve been waiting for some sort of shortcut or loophole, but the life I want doesn’t come that easily and in the past I haven’t proven to be up for the challenge.

Tom and I have been talking about me going back to Uni next year. I am paradoxically fuelled by excitement and paralysed by overwhelming waves of fear. I do not entirely trust myself to do what needs to be done. I haven’t in the past proven willing or able to make the journey in my impatience to reach the destination. 

But I think I’m ready, finally, to accept the work and the stress and the struggle that comes with my romanticised view of University. I want to work hard. I want to prove to myself that I'm capable of achieving my goals. I don't want to let fear get in my way any more. 

on my mind: study, romanticism & perfection(ism).

Perfectionism has been crippling for me in the past, and it continues to dictate what I am willing to attempt and complete. Whilst for some, perfectionism may engender a ferocious and occasionally dangerous need to push oneself, for me it is a somewhat different beast. My desire is not to do my best, but to be the best at whatever I do - thus I choose to do very little. My logic is obviously flawed. I've heard the saying "you only fail at what you don't do", and yet I choose time and again to do nothing, to quit and bolt at the first sign of trouble, rather than to try and perhaps fall short of my ridiculous goals.

Tom worked so hard this year. His honours year did not come easily, it was a year of long hours and hard work and bouts of stress and self doubt. In order to achieve his goal, Tom invested all of himself into his work. When I went to

Obviously, Tom is not the first person I've seen work extraordinarily hard towards their goal. I suppose that you find what you need when you need it the most.

I wanted to be a University student, but I didn't want the work that came with it. I had romanticised the place beyond reproach as this wonderful mecca of knowledge and intellectual debate and I was unwilling to accept that I'd have to hate it every now and then in order to reap those benefits. University is not a mecca of intellectual debate - it is full of young people wasting time while they figure themselves out. People like me. Perhaps some of us a widely read, but most conversations are about the hilarious thing that happened at the bar last week.

I'm going to finish my three Certificate IV's in marketing, advertising and business this semester, because even though they haven't engendered in me any great enjoyment or inspiration, I need to finally prove to myself that I can work towards a goal and complete something again. It's been too long. I've been too easy on myself, allowing pleasure in the short term to count for more than what I will gain in the longer term. 

a confession

The story I posted recently with the title Secrets and Solitude has somehow deterred me from posting anything much since. I retreated from this place because I had shared more than I'd anticipated. In sharing my past I was sharing my soul. That girl feels so foreign to me in so many ways, and yet she and I are still so very much the same. 

My life in no way resembles her days of loneliness and fear and insecurity, but I still struggle with the same demons. She and I will never truly be separate. She is my past and I am her future and we share the same mind and the same heart and the same memories. 

I still feel sad for her and all of her loneliness and the big black Unknown that she faced. There was so much more to her loneliness than the simple fact of her ostracism from a group of false friends. I remember that feeling. I still know it sometimes. I still feel alone in the absurd ticking of my mind. 

I wanted to write this simply to break the ice again, so to speak. I miss this space and I miss blogging freely about what matters to me, be it superficial or otherwise. We will speak very soon. 

catchup

Whatever happened to three posts a week? I've written about as many unfinished drafts, but nothing has felt right to publish. I hate that I haven't blogged for a week; I feel like I need to make the 'comeback' worthwhile.

I'll get back into the rhythm this week; I made a promise to myself at the beginning of the year to post regularly and I want to keep that promise. But for today, just a bit of an update and a few recent photos of some simple joys I've enjoyed of late.

So, since we last spoke, Tom finished his thesis. We pulled a couple of all-nighters at the end (I helped by looking over the grammar & making the formatting uniform), but it's done! He still needs to give a presentation and defend the thesis, of course, but the hard part is over.

This is what 6am in a freezing University office looks like:

Tom's studying hard and I'm contemplating murder. I don't deal quite as well without sleep.

We took a couple of days off in which we wore ugg boots and watched children's movies and drank vodka and generally just relaxed at home, per Tom's request.

Rainy days are my favourite days.

This flower seems to have mutated or something because the leaves and the petals have grown together. Tom was kind enough to feign interest when I dragged him over excitedly to show him.


And look, he's on a bridge!

Proper posts very soon. x