Mellow Monday Morning

I'm feeling mellow today. Jim and Liz were visiting Thursday afternoon to Sunday morning. We had dinner with Annette and George at their place, lunched at Bowleys and Loonasea, and went thrifting. Otherwise, we just hung around. I cooked one night and we got pizza a second night.  

I took it easy yesterday too. Jeff and I had gin and tonics on the balcony, I read, and I journaled. As for today, Jeff has a PT appointment at 1. I'll go food shopping while he's there and figure out tonight's dinner. I have several things to do but don't have to do them all today.

It's my birthday week, and we're heading into unofficial summer. The weekend doesn't look very good now, but things can change. Regardless, I'll just try to hold onto the mellow. 

Time Management and Prioritizing

I used to think I was good at time management. Either I lost that skill or I was delusional about it. I know I'm not good at time management now. Just one example, I intended to write this post over a week ago. Instead of seizing the day, I'm just living the day passively, letting it pass me by.

This is nothing new--I should have addressed it by now. There's been a few positive steps. I'm getting up earlier. I'm avoiding my phone: i.e. my New York Times word games first thing in the morning. Instead, I've been journaling.

I know it's not nearly enough, but it's something.

Welcome May!

May is my second favorite month after September. It's my birthday month, the month when the nice spring weather takes hold, the month when school years or semesters are almost over, and the month when lilacs and lilies of the valley bloom.

I was writing in my journal last night about seeing May as new beginning, another new year. Well, so far, I'm not off to a stellar beginning. I did dress to return to the gym, but was moving slowly this morning, and generally felt off. So, I blew off the gym again, quoting Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day." At least Jace got me out walking. I also exercised today--mostly stretching and balance work. 

Tomorrow looks like a beautiful day. I need to take advantage.

Tuesday's Topics

I am happy that July is over. To me, July represents everything that went wrong this summer. I'm ready for the rest of the summer, starting today. 

We've had three nice days in a row--weather wise. I have more energy; I'm in a better mood. I've enjoyed my walks with Jace. Today we visited Tilley Pond Park in Darien. Jeff, Lola, and I had been there a few times. It was a first for Jace. We walked around twice, and Jace got to experience some new scents.

I've been journaling a bit lately. Trying to work myself out of this prolonged writer's block. I'll have to show up here too. I was just thinking I need a spark. How do I get a spark? I imagine myself using the flint and steel method driving myself to tears in a futile attempt to write something. Sigh. 

The Mets season is basically over. Of, there are still have two full months of games to play, but we're seeing a trading deadline selloff that no one would have predicted at the beginning of the season. Another sigh. I've watched my share of bad Mets seasons. Will I continue to watch this one? Probably. 

I'm hoping we can get away for our anniversary this year. I need to talk to Jeff and make some plans. I'd like to go away for two weeks, but we'll have to see. I need to figure this out soon. 

2023 Goals

Here are my 2023 goals. 

Stop drinking from January 2 to Valentine's Day: I'm already one-third of the way there. It gets easier each year. 

In addition, I want to limit my overall alcoholic consumption for health reasons. I think wine enhances meals. It's easy to get in the habit of pouring a glass (or two) with dinner, but it's not something I really need. My brother asked me why I don't quit completely, but I enjoy wine, beer, and cocktails. Also, as one doctor in the linked article says, "We did prohibition, it didn't work." I'll limit my drinking to weekends (except for special occasions.)

Reading: my goal is to read 40 books this year (last year's goal was 35). That amounts to less than half a book more each month. 

Go to the gym 150 times: I came close this year with 143 visits. I just have to keep plugging away. I also want to exercise for 30 minutes on days I don't make it to the gym. 

Write 200 blogposts: This is a doable goal even if I haven't done it the last two years. 

Now for the goals that are harder to measure.

Writing: I didn't get around to setting any kind of writing goals last year. I was disappointed in my writing production last year. Is it cause and effect? Could be.

On Friday, I decided I should spend two hours each day writing, editing, researching, blogging, journaling. In that two hours I have to write 200 words of new material. Friday was the only day I've managed to hit the goal. 

Art: I want to spend two hours a week making some kind of art. Right now, I'm thinking of art journals and artist trading cards.

There's work to do. 

More on Art Journaling

About two weeks ago, I brought my box of art journal supplies into the living room to file new clippings I had made. I didn't put the box back into the second bedroom closet; last night I finally worked on the journal again. 

While I didn't create any new pages, I added to some, mostly using some leftover contact paper I found while cleaning the closet. It was too folded to work well on a window, but it was perfect for my art journal. 

This is my third art journal. When I first started, I didn't really know what I was doing. In many ways, I still don't. I lost my second art journal for awhile; it's sitting in the closet now. I think I did a few pages on Casablanca and Bette Davis.

In my third and current journal, I prepared some pages for the first time with a variety with gesso, acrylic paint, watercolor, stamps, and miscellaneous collage elements. Some pages are blank. 

I recently mentioned that I had two pages I especially liked. Looking through the journal last night, I found many pages that I liked. That was unusual.  I experimented with different materials--I even used a short, narrow piece of tile (?) that I found in the elevator. 

I just stopped writing because I decided my pages of Nicholas II and his family needed some religious medals. It just so happens that I have a grab bag of religious charms and added a few to that page. 

It's weird, but as I work in a page, I sometimes think about what I can do in my next journal. Maybe I should appreciate this one. 

Art Journaling

I wasn't sure how long it had been since I last posted here. I opened this page and wondered just what have I been doing since I last posted. 

Since I tracked my time last week, I could easily find out. Based on a quick look t my excel spreadsheet, I spent a lot of time watching TV, doing word puzzles, exercising, and cleaning. 

I also spent about five-and-a-half hours working on my art journal. Most of that time was also spent watching TV, but I'm glad I finally worked/played on the journal. I've been frustrated because I don't have a good workspace. Some art journalists say you can work anywhere, in any corner, etc. I worked in the living room on a tray table covered in a cheap plastic tablecloth. I pulled some clipping folders from my file box in the second bedroom closet. I didn't use any paint this time. I especially liked two of the pages. I had pasted an ad with a sophisticated woman in a black dress walking against a backdrop of city scenes. I colored in some of the buildings and advertisements, the woman's pocketbook, and a pair of swans. I added some embellishments including a heart, a cross, and a Mary medal. On another page, I pasted photos of Tsar Nicholas II, his family, and some Russian peasants on a gold foil paper. I apparently didn't use the right kind of glue, but I liked my idea.

I first learned about art journaling from someone at a writer's retreat (I had earlier learned about artist trading cards from people in the same writing group.) I've kept the Art Journaling magazines I've bought over the years  and re-read them often, seeing new things each time. Jeff got me a two-year subscription for Christmas, but I haven't received an issue yet. I'm looking forward to that. 

I need to give myself a gift of time to play more in my journal. 

Personal Archaeology

I believe that Julia Cameron used the term archaeology in The Artist's Way about finding things in your past that hampered your creativity. I also remember the concept of mining your journals. A few weeks ago, I wrote that I found a box of things to go to Goodwill. I also found a small duffel bag of notebooks. I had previously found a matching bag (both giveaways from an Arizona Diamondbacks/Atlanta Braves game that Jeff and I attended back in 1998) with stories and pieces of novels that I had written. I had skimmed through those notebooks, tossed a few, but kept those with things that I thought I could use. 

In the latest bag, I found some journals of morning pages, as well as notebooks from various retreats and courses. I found some old poems that I typed up (including Ode to a Nike Commercial or Why I Love Tom Glavine.) I also found some phrases in exercises that I used to write poems. One was: the arm around my waist became a chain.

I've gone through over half of the notebooks. Some, I tossed outright. Some, I threw away pages and now have smaller notebooks. I'll type up some poems or use found phrases to generate new poems.

A few things are consistent in my pages. There is never enough time. Which means I have to find, make the time. I also need other writers around me--retreats have inspired and supported me. I guess my class gives me some support. I need to find more.

Musings from a Meandering Mind

I'm telling myself I need to post tonight; it's been too long. I've been doing some journaling, but it's more of making a to-do list and time tracking.

I realized the other day that I didn't want to write about my mother's death. I don't have to blog about it--that's OK. Unfortunately I do have to write an obituary. It's already been two weeks. I have a folder with some materials I can use. I also have some photos for whatever memorial service or reception we have. I selected a date at least.

I'm also putting information together for the attorney (names and addresses, accounts and balances.) We have an appointment on Monday morning.

I'm just about halfway through an SAT course. It's my first SAT course in a year-and-a-half. Plus it's the first with the new manual and the first with the 18 hour syllabus. I've been doing extra prep and watching instructional videos.

For this class, I'm back at the building of my first class. It's not the best location. I had wanted the Westport office but someone else got that location. Oh well. It's only another six weeks.

I also started two tutorials this week and have another two students about to start. Nice to see some more tutoring with the last three students in Westport--short commute.

I've decided that I have too many things on display: photographs, cinnabar plates and vases. I also have a few things from my mother. I've started to rearrange things, place new things out, and pack up other things.

I've finished my third book Game Change by John Heileman and Mark Halperin. It took me a while to get into it. I was somewhat bored with the beginnings of the 2008 Obama and Clinton campaigns.

I think the authors couldn't stand Hillary Clinton. At one point, she is "bug-eyed." Edwards appears to be a delusional lightweight. McCain seems out of his depth especially on the financial crisis. Then, there's his Palin decision. Only Obama comes off very well. Rebecca Traister's Big Girls Don't Cry was much better on the same election.

On to a new book.

Afternoon at Taylor Park

It's been about a month since I last visited Taylor Farm; I decided to take Lola there today.

It was a cold, windy afternoon--didn't fell like fall at all. This morning I wrote in my journal, "Autumn is just a memory." It seems as if we went directly from summer to winter. I feel cheated out of autumn.

I walked around the back field and looked at the area where Lola was lost for an hour this summer: tangled, thorny-looking bush. Without its summer greenery, it looked small. If Lola had gotten in there this time of year, I would have been able to see her and wouldn't have been so worried. But of course, that's not what happened.

Today at least the sky was pretty. Bonus in the first pic: Lola butt.

Anatomy of a Good Day

The first thing I noticed when I woke up yesterday was that my hair smelled good. That reminded me that it was cut, colored and washed the night before. So I knew I'd look better than I had the day before. I let myself have a slow morning--writing in my journal, catching up on Jeopardy, working on a blog post (still unfinished)--without feeling guilty.

I took Lola for a neighborhood walk, had a good workout at the gym, and got all my errands done except for getting the car washed. Back home for lunch (leftover Indian from Thursday night.) I took Lola for a second walk, and got Jeff's father's day gifts together (buying a few gifts was part of my errands.)

We got to the dogpark around 5:45: a nice night with wine and snacks with friends. Lola is relishing her time off-leash, but ends up spending most of her time with us at the picnic table.

For dinner I made salad and Jeff cooked scallops.That was a relief--Jeff cooks scallops much better than I do.

A good day.

A Discouraging Word

I get two emails every day with vocabulary words: one from Dictionary.com and one from Wordsmith.org. It started because the SAT had so many vocabulary questions. Actually Wordsmith.org didn't have the best SAT words, but it was still fun anyway to get those daily messages.

Yesterday's Dictionary.com entree was logophobia--an obsessive fear of words. As someone who loves words--this is both inexplicable and frightening to me.

Today is the first day of nanowrimo and nablopomo, National Novel Writing Month and National Blog Posting month respectively.

I briefly considered nanowrimo, but rejected it. I've barely been writing lately--50,000 words was just too much. Can I have an obsessive fear of putting words together? I hope not; I hope it's just a dry spell.

Four of the past six years I've managed more than 30 posts in November.

This is doable; let's go.

In a Funk

June is winding down. It's been a slow work time for me. High pollen counts have been wiping me out. My journaling, housework and exercise have been sporadic, my blogging a rare occurrence.

I don't know if there's some kind of causation. It'd be easy to blame everything on the pollen. Or did the funk cause the lack of journaling, etc? Maybe the lack of journaling, etc. caused the funk. Watching the Braves sweep the Mets last weekend didn't help--especially because the Nationals were losing to the Cubs.

My time management is shot to hell. I knew June would be slow work-wise, but I told myself I would use the time to continue new SAT practice, start a new docent project and do some household cleaning and organizing. Well, that didn't happen.

Sometimes I just have to let myself be in a funk. That's been a long term strategy of mine. Wallow in heartache and self-pity for a bit, give myself a few minutes to imagine and exaggerate the worst in a stressful situation.

Ultimately, I can't allow myself to stay in a funk for too long. This week I  gave myself a few daily goals and completed them. It doesn't do me any good to look behind and regret. Instead I'll look forward and hope.

"Still as a Bunch of Crap, I Imagine"

I've been keeping a daily journal pretty consistently for over 25 years. I've accumulated many notebooks over that time. I don't have the room or the inclination to keep them all. So periodically I read through some old journals, save what I think is interesting or important and toss the rest.

In the past few weeks, I've re-read about 12 notebooks. Some were regular-day-to-day entries, some were written on trips, one was a small journal that I tucked into my pocketbook for train trips to New York City. 

The title of this post is the last line dated July 22, 2010 in one of those journals. I was speculating how the journal would read years later. I was right.

My journals are modeled after morning pages, and morning pages aren't supposed to be art. There's nothing wrong with throwing them away.  I've threw away most of mine.

This time around, I decided to keep only three of the journals: chronicling trips to Phoenix, Portland and Tuscon, Bisbee and Tombstone.

I had hoped for more. 

Mercy Musings

It's taken me about 15 minutes to log in to the Internet which has definitely disrupted the mellow calm I've been feeling this morning.

This is our last full day here. Last night I thought I might be ready to go home today. Now I'm glad for another day.

I slept much better last night. Woke up early again and  journaled. Next, I showered, dressed, got coffee and walked around the building and the grounds. At eight, I had a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, French toast, more coffee and orange juice. I walked the labyrinth and sampled the water views from several wooden benches.

Now I'm sitting on my private porch. I guess people are busy in programs because I've only seen two other people outside.

Jeff sent me a wonderful email last night. It included the lines:

"It is more important to enjoy yourself than to write down words on a piece of paper. Who knows maybe you just need to stop thinking for a bit so you can start thinking again."

Last night I was doubting my writing--wondering why I did it--wondering if I am a writer. Darlene said something to the effect that by virtue of asking the question, I'm a writer.

I revised about 400 words and wrote about 600 yesterday. As I was writing, I thought that I had too much description, too much exposition, not enough action. It needed so much work.

But that's the whole point of the shitty first draft. You have to get something down first before you cut, edit and revise. I'm on my way.

Art Journals Revisited

Yesterday I pulled out an ART Journaling magazine. I've saved three: winter issues from 2010, 2011 and 2012. I guess I'm due to purchase another.

Later I got out my own art journal. It's almost four years old; the first entry is dated February 7, 2010. Last night I cut out some images I had collected and pasted them onto the pages. I added some stickers and a few labels, and drew some borders. No writing, but I can add that later.

I'm still a beginner at art journaling, even after four years. In fact, my thoughts are very similar to what I wrote here exactly three years ago. I'll just keep plugging away.

When It's Not Working Anymore

Sometimes you realize that something isn't working for you anymore, but you continue to do it anyway.

It may be a habit; it may be comfortable; it may be that you don't know what else to do; it may be that you're just lazy.

That's the way I've been about my journaling.

My journaling started as morning-pages. Then it evolved into this leisurely combination of writing, drinking coffee, watching TV, checking email. I realized that there was something wrong with this process. A friend once told me that journaling would keep me from real writing. Another said I had outgrown morning pages.

I disagreed;  I still clung to morning pages. They center me. If I don't do them, I feel that something's missing. But still...

Yesterday, I read this which led me to this. Something in the combination of these articles hit me and helped me make a change. Today, I still did my morning pages. First thing. In a room by myself without distractions. Without coffee. I finished them in 10 minutes and went on with my day.

Mining my Journals

I've started writing about home renovations here.

What do home renovations have to do with journals? Well, since we worked in every room at one point or another, we had to empty every room and look at what we would put back in every room.

I've been keeping journals for over 20 years. Some are daily musings, some are records of trips, some are related to classes, retreats or writing books, and some are miscellaneous. I would probably keep every journal if I had a large storage area. Since I don't, I occasionally read through them, saving pages that are somehow relevant or meaningful to me, and tossing the rest.

This time around, I've read through about four journals. Frankly, they're a bunch of drivel. I found nothing worth saving.

If an outside observer were to read my journals, he or she would think I was unhappy. Pages are filled with lists of things to do, things I didn't do, things I should have done. The negative pages outnumber the positive.

But I don't remember these days as unhappy.

The main reason is that many of my journals are modeled on Julia Cameron's morning pages. She often describes these as brain drains. By getting frustrations out on the page, they may not mess up the rest of your life.  

I still hope to find something---an idea, image or phrase worth saving--worth mining.

Journaling

I write in my journal every morning. Julia Cameron's morning pages are my guide http://juliacameronlive.com/basic-tools/morning-pages/ though I "cheat" a bit on them. If I don't have a morning appointment, I tend to linger over my journal entry, I may put on the TV, check email, make more coffee.

Today I tried to be more disciplined. I made a cup of coffee, sat down and wrote. My entry today was more serious than most. Instead of listing things I needed to do or things I did yesterday, I wrote about some anger I am feeling.

Writing about my anger did not exorcise the anger, but it was somewhat cathartic. When I walked Spike, I felt lighter. Admittedly, the sun and warmer temperatures helped, but I think my writing this morning was a factor.

Frustration Dreaming

The other night I dreamed that I couldn't submit my work hours online. My boss had just told me that I should submit them at 12. Here it was 12 and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. A coworker told me that I didn't have the second power switch on.

I've always wondered about the real v. fantastic elements in dreams. I do submit my tutoring hours electronically but the computer in my dream looked more like a cross-trainer at the gym. My boss and co-workers in the dream came from two different former employers.

This dream is the latest incarnation of my frustration dreams. Usually I dream that I need to call in sick to work and can't get the telephone to work--the rotary won't turn or the buttons won't depress. Sometimes I realize it's 4 pm and I never called in.

Another variation is that I can't find a restroom to use. They are either out of order or the toilets are completely out in the open.

My sister used to dream that she couldn't remember her locker combination.

I don't think the details are important but frustration is a topic to explore in my journal.