So, today was a day. Normally, Friday and I are BFFs. See, I was born on a Friday, so I’ve always been kind of partial. Today, though, was looooong. Also normally, I work from home on Fridays, but since I needed to coordinate with a coworker, I decided to go into the office so we could collaborate up a storm.

This is not what happened. To begin with, I slept in, thus missing my yoga practice again and setting up a decent amount of pre-breakfast irritation. I didn’t even get up and have breakfast, because I relocated from the bedroom to the living room couch, where I read for a mere 10 minutes. Weirdly, though, the clock felt it was longer than 10 minutes, so suddenly it was nearly 8 am and I still hadn’t showered. Nice.

I packed my jogging stuff (pronounced “yogging,” which, just for the record, WordPress just autocorrected to “hogging”. Interesting.) so I could go for a lunchtime run. This also did not happen, because it was gross and yucky outside. I’m not actually a total rain wuss, because I can run in the rain, get soggy, but then warm up with a hawt shower and then continue the warming in my sweatpants (there will be an entire post, or possibly many, dedicated to my love of sweat pants at some point soon). But, since I was in the office, I would just get cold and miserable and stay that way. I can’t shower in public places. That’s another story for another day. So many stories all the time. You’re welcome for me not dragging you down like 17 tangential rabbit holes in this post.

So, no run, no yoga and a general lack of motivation made me feel pretty lazy. I’m in a low-energy phase right now, so I’m not feeling super productive. I keep To-Do lists in my Charlie Brown Moleskine daytimer, so that I can check stuff off and feel a sense of accomplishment. I checked off like 5 things today, but still felt like a slacker. Go figure.

Things started looking up around 3, when I realized I was soon to be off for my haircut. Getting my hair cut is possibly one of my greatest pleasures. The head massage, the yummy-smelling product and the fact that for a brief post-salon period, my hair looks less like the styling involved a blind creature without opposable thumbs.

Due to excessive Groupon, Dealfind, Couvon and Ethical Deal purchasing (I tend to buy any yoga and salon deal), I have had to keep a pretty tight salon schedule. I’ve learned to read the fine print, because otherwise, you’re left booking 3 haircuts in 5 months, which is tricky when you’re trying to grow your hair out.

Anyway, I went to a lovely salon and had a super stylist, both of which shall remain unnamed, because, you see, my stylist kind of cut my face. Yep, I bled my own blood and everything. It was in the bang-trimming portion of the cut, just towards the end. I’ve always been nervous while getting my bangs trimmed, because they run the scissors along my eyebrow ridge. I find that my eyebrow ridge is really close to my eyeballs, which get really scared about sharp pointy tools.

I felt a little pinch and gave a little flinch (you like that?). I thought maybe it was just a pinchy pinch, but then noticed that the stylist, and consequently everyone else I talked to, was talking to me, while their eyes drifted up above my right eye, which is, coincidentally, where I felt the pinch.

In a show of Canadian politeness, I tried to hide the obviously bleeding wound, so she wouldn’t feel bad, despite the fact that I wasn’t upset and that she had, in fact, nearly blinded me (though in the nicest possible way). Maybe I’m embellishing, but then again, I was very nearly decapitated, so I am sure I’m entitled to a little more loose creativity in my creative non-fiction.

I’ve included photos, because this is a blog and that is what I should do. Enjoy.

I am too busy.

This is not a shock to anyone, apart from me. Actually, I’m aware of this, but I’m just really used to being booked up. Every now and then, though, I reach what I like to call “critical mass”. Critical mass usually occurs about 3 times each year and most recently, I reached this point approximately 3 weeks ago.

Why am I so busy? Good question, hard to answer. With what am I so busy, however, is easier for me to tackle. Here’s what’s keeping me from relaxing:

• Work. My job is a thinker, for sure. I’ve got lots to do, lots to write, questions to answer, solutions to find, et cetera. I often work late, causing me to miss dance/yoga classes.
• I volunteer. This is a good thing. It’s fun and I meet and work with awesome people. 4 months until showtime (www.pacifictattoo.ca). Like any work by committee, everything takes many steps and lots of emails.
• I teach. Currently, I teach 2 classes each week. One is very low-key and stress-free, the other requires significantly more preparation, has lower turnout and is less conveniently located (both in time and space).
• Work #2. I am working on getting some contract work I can do on the side. This is in line with my goals for my career.
• Learning. I’m taking another design course at Camosun. This is awesome, but means on Thursdays, I’m out of the house from 8 am until 10 pm straight.

This may not look like a lot, but it is. What’s happened is that I’ve gotten burned out, which then leaves me tired and generally cranky. My schedule is so tight that it’s nearly impossible to accomplish any chores. For example, I’ve been in need of an oil change for a couple of months now, getting groceries has become nigh impossible and a trip to Costco may as well be a trip to Moscow, for the amount of planning required.

Being this busy has meant that I’ve lost touch with a few things I really value, like:

• Sleep. Getting to bed on time has become tricky, because there’s too much to do. Since learning last year that I do not actually function on 5-6 hours, getting 7-8 has been my new rule. If I’m up too late, I can’t drag my sorry rear out of bed in time for the next thing I’m missing:
• My fitness regime. I’m ALWAYS up at 6 am, doing yoga before work. This leaves my afternoons free for a run/dance class. Missing my mornings, because I’ve slept in, due to overtiredness, makes me VERY unhappy. It gnaws at me, all day. It feels like I didn’t get to give myself the time I need for me. Not good. This makes Bay unhappy (and then I feel fat and ugly. I realize there is more going on in this equation, but a feeling’s a feeling, so there it is.).
• Friends/family. I have been trying to slot these very important people into the wee gaps between other engagements. It’s not fair to them and it sucks for me (because I don’t get time with people I value being around).
• Adam. We’re like ships passing in the night, on different hemispheres. I’m always rushing out, blowing hurried (and harried) kisses from the door. My marriage deserves better, as does Adam. So do I, for that matter.
•  I realize I need to cut back on activities. This will be hard because of things like tuition and contracts (teaching). I’m working on streamlining right now.
• I probably can’t free up too much right now, but will be reducing my teaching (or at least just teaching where I really enjoy teaching) as soon as my current contract is up.
• After this InDesign course wraps up in 6 weeks (first one is tonight), I’m not signing up for more classes in the foreseeable future.
• I will pay more attention to leaving work on time.
• I WILL get up and at ‘em at 6 am, beginning tomorrow, because hating myself for being lazy is not cool.

Those are my goals. I’m sure once I achieve them, I’ll be blogging about how bored I am with my spare time. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it…

Actually, I love Twilight, but I knew this would be in a big font and possibly drive away the 2 people who might actually read my blog. On that note, I should apologize, because I haven’t written anything new here in a looooong time. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve thought about it lots. I’ve been thinking I should actually pick a theme or niche for my blog, because leaving it wide open tends to result in just that: Wide open blank spaces for vast amounts of time. You’ll be pleased to know that I have actually picked said niche, but don’t want to get into it just yet for reasons that make no sense whatsoever.

Anyway, back to Twilight. I admit it: I have the fever. It began back in 2009, while flying to Brazil. I’d been a Twilight holdout, refusing to see the movie or really think about the books, largely because my niece, whom I adore, was just WAAAAY too into it, which led me to believe I’d find it a bit too teenie-leaning. That being said, I couldn’t sleep on the plane (because I’m always pretty sure the planes I’m on will crash and somehow, I believe that my wakefulness is the factor that will save me), and I wasn’t drawn to any other movie options, so settled to watch it for a lack of other appealing options.

Yeah… So, we landed in Miami and I rushed to the airport bookstore to buy Twilight, which I read for the next flight and epic bus ride to Rio de Janeiro (from Sao Paulo; a journey I should really blog about one day…). I searched high and low for an English version of the second book, New Moon, but it took until I finally found a Chapters in Sao Paulo, by which point I was nearly dying of Twilight fever. Actually, finding that Chapters was awesome for several reasons: I found the next book, so I could start breathing again, and they sold Starbucks coffee. Not that I didn’t love the cafezinho in Brazil—those little coffees are delicious and pack some serious punch—but by 2 weeks into my South American odyssey, I was seriously jonesing for a venti coffee, or even a tall, or, really, anything larger than a thimble.

By this point, I’d shared the first book with my trip roomie, fellow student and good friend, Annie. I believe she watched the movie on the flight back to Miami, while I fervently rewatched it like an addict. I bought the 3rd book in Miami and the 4th shortly after returning. I think I’ve read the series three times now and I don’t want to say how many times I’ve watched the movies. Mostly because I don’t know. But I love them. I’m quite annoyed that the world of Twilight isn’t real. Seriously. I wish I could know that there was fantasy and magic in our world, because the beauty and tragedy of our lives need it. I’ve given serious thought to becoming a vampire (were it a viable option and only in Stephanie Meyer’s vampiric tradition, which is lovely) and after compiling my list of pros and cons (see below), I’m all for it. I’d go for the bite, hands down.

Pros:

1. I’d be stunningly, achingly beautiful. Um, yes, please.
2. I’d shimmer and sparkle. I have to buy makeup to do that now, so this would be a financially prudent move, too.
3. I could see everything in the world, which would be great, since one life is just too short.
4. I could go to school forever, if I wanted. Score.

Cons:

1. I couldn’t have pets (because they’d be afraid of me). This is pretty much the biggie. It’d take some getting used to, since I love animals so much.

I just saw Breaking Dawn a week ago and now am in a fix because: a) I have to wait a year for the last movie (Breaking Dawn Part II) and b) because I know the saga is ending and it makes me sad.

I have experienced this state of mourning before. Lord of the Rings’ finale sent me into a downward spiral, and Harry Potter? I cried and cried, and not only because Hedwig dies (although even though I knew that was coming, it still upsets me: She was such a good owl.). I’ve done some thinking about my propensity to fall into sadness upon the ending of a story I like and here’s what I’ve got:

1. I like make believe. Much more so than I like the real world. I always have, too. I had The Mother of All Fairytale books as a child, and I would reread those stories over and over again. Maybe because my childhood was a little, um, different/bumpy, I always loved escaping into my imagination and the world I was so sure was just around the corner from my line of sight. Suspending my disbelief is not a difficult task for me. I don’t just watch a movie as spectator: I’m a participant. I’m in the story, just beyond the camera. The stories become my experiences.
2. When these stories and their accompanying films are made and complete, I remember just how much I always wanted to be an actor. Acting, and even dancing, was always my love (apart from writing), largely because so much of these art forms include pretending and imagination. In these arts, the worlds I longed for came to life.

So, Twilight ending (even though I know I’ll reread and rewatch them a zillion times) reminds me that I’m not doing the thing I’d always dreamed: I’m not acting. I’m reminded of the safe decisions I’ve made to get to this point, and I’m filled with regret. My life isn’t terrible; it’s very good, actually. I have a good job, a great education, a fabulous husband and friends and family who love me. But deep down, in a place I don’t often let myself look into, I know I didn’t follow my heart. I guess if anything good comes of this sadness, it’s the reminder that I can still try. I think I need to, in order to feel whole. Because I am pretty sure life is too short to ignore your dreams. I have the drive and I believe I have the talent (after all, I was one of the 40 who, out of thousands, made it into performing arts college). What I need is courage.

Yeah I am! I am proud to say that I have actually begun to take steps to accomplish things in my day-to-day life, for my immediate and less-immediate future. I am literally doing the things that I need to do. This may not seem all that much like an epiphany to you, but you see, I am an epic procrastinator. A dawdler extraordinaire. I can get a whole lot of nothing done, when I feel like it. And I have felt like it a lot.

My favourite modus operandi is to not do things that are important to me, especially if they involve anything resembling a slight risk, because—wait for it, this is true genius—if I don’t try, then I can’t fail. I know what you’re thinking: How come I never thought of that incredibly philosophical approach? Probably because, unlike me, you recognized that your life wouldn’t really go anywhere, or at least not in the direction you were hoping.

So now my go-cart has wheels and a driver. I’m sending emails I’ve held off on for years. It feels pretty good. Thanks, Lululemon, for the encouragement: “Do it now!”

I will! What am I waiting for, anyway?

September first and autumn is in the air! Okay, well, actually, it’s been in the air a pretty good long time, but the leaves are changing and the mornings are darker and crisper than they’ve been.

Those who know me understand that these are not seasonal changes that upset me. Nope. I love fall. It’s so pretty and is filled with delicious smells (pumpkin pie, chimney smoke) and tastes (pumpkin pie) and sights (pumpkin pie). I get giddy with excitement when Starbucks brings back the Pumpkin Spice latté. It’s a magical thing. (FYI: I just actually sighed and looked off into the distance, remembering PSL’s gone by.)

To top it off, I’m clearly into domesticity, which is a sure sign of impending autumnal changes. I clean (this week off has seen the bathrooms sparkle, floors and sinks shine, all topped off by an overwhelming need to go through all of my personal possessions [which are too many, to be honest]) and I bake. Today was cherry pie, because I wanted a piece, and honey whole wheat bread.

While making the aforementioned pie, I decided that one can of cherry pie filling was simply not going to cut it and dumped in two. That’s a lot of pie filling. And before you message me to say that there are oodles of fresh cherries out there, begging to be made into pie, I feel compelled to publicize that though I do love fresh food, when it comes to cherry pie, there’s nothing like that tangy gooeyness of canned cherry pie filling. I heart it.

And I’m sitting here typing this while I wait for the bread maker to beep at me so that I can take out the paddle and avoid a massive hole in the bottom of the loaf. I forgot it takes 4.5 hours to bake whole wheat bread… (clearly, I’m using the term “bake” with some creative licence: technically all I do is measure and dump it into the machine. Still. Better than Wonder bread, isn’t it?)

Well, I’m off to stare through the small window on the top of the machine and will it to rise faster. I’m sure that will work this time.

I’m referring mostly to a couple of moles, to which I’ve grown fairly attached over the years, largely due to the fact that they’re kind of stuck on me, or I on them. I was a bit concerned about a mole I didn’t recall as being there previously, but wasn’t particularly worried, which translates to me taking about 6 months to book an appointment with my doctor to check it out.

And here’s a note: Maybe, when seeing your doctor about a concerning mole, try not to be an eejit and get a brutal sunburn on your back two days before your appointment. You will get a lecture. And let me tell you, getting a lecture about sunburn damage while you’re in a fair degree of pain from your moment (okay, more like several moments, or even hours) of indiscretion is completely unnecessary. Trust me.

The lowdown is that the mole I was worried about is nothing to worry about, but two more unfortunately are, and ergo, shall be coming off. I wouldn’t mind too much, but one of them is on my left forearm and I’m kind of used to seeing it there. It looks like a little turtle, which is, incidentally, much the same reason my doctor wants to remove it. Sigh.

I have so far heard that it’s quite painful and leaves an ugly scar, or that it doesn’t hurt at all and I won’t notice it. We will see. On September 9th…

Apparently doesn’t work. My left knee has decided to be all stupid about something. I’m not sure what I did, or whether some other joint, like my elbow, said something to piss it off, but seriously. Let’s communicate and move on.

See, I’d like to help it. But I don’t know what it needs. I hear it clicking and cracking. And occasionally, I can tell it really, really wants to bend backwards like an ostrich leg. But I don’t know what that means.

This is super-annoying. I have busted my ankle to the point of unbelievability, torn hamstrings on both legs (on multiple occasions), suffered hamstring-related nerve damage, injured my neck and put up with scoliosis, but at least my knees have always played nice. And now this.

Please, please, please get better knee! I’ve taken a week off running, no dance classes for 3 weeks and cut my yoga practice down, leaving out any potentially knee-impacting asanas. I’m going crazy here. Please get better. I miss you when I didn’t think about you.

Kay, thanks. I hope this chat helped. I really meant it.

It seems to be the wee small ligament attaching to my fibula. Sigh.

Okay, so last year, we held a 30+60=90th birthday party for Adam’s mom and me. It was really fun, but we learned a couple of things:

• The weather is not reliable in September. It used to be, but it isn’t anymore. It might rain…
• Planning an event on the same weekend as BeerFest is a recipe for a small party. Avoid that weekend.
• Lasagne takes forever. Especially if it’s veggie lasagne. That’s a lot of dicing and chopping.

So, we’re holding it this year on the August long weekend. Hopefully the weather will cooperate, because we’ve had a gawd-awful summer thus far. I’m thinking positively.

I’ll be making veggie chili this year and I REALLY hope it’s faster than lasagne.

I’m teaching a yoga class (how to get all ages/abilities doing yoga regardless of their outfit is still escaping me. We’ll see. I’m sure I’ll think of something…) and Adam’s teaching a dance class again. Adam’s dad and his parents’ neighbour have created a putting game, so that should be pretty fun.

I always have so much fun at these things, but gosh, I’m tired already. Speaking of tired, I am that. Tired. I think it’s the lack of flex days. I get more vacation days (4 weeks vs 3 weeks), which is awesome, but no flex days, so that’s about 26 days that I’m used to having off in addition to vacay. I’m not complaining; flex days aren’t free days, really. I had to work an extra 47 minutes each day to earn them (yup, 47. Not 45). It’s just that I’ve gone straight through since Christmas with no time off apart from stat holidays. Turns out that’s a long haul. I need a vacation, but we’re too poor, so no trip away for this girl. Sigh. Okay, I am complaining. Just a bit.

Anyway, here’s the party invite I made:

I have one.

So the thing is, I write a blog for work, which is very cool. I am enjoying writing the work blog, which is entirely health-issue related. Every week I have a new health issue to blog about. Easy peasy. Lemon squeezy.

The problem then, is that I have blog-tigue when it comes to my own blog. I have been trying to avoid keeping to one topic, because I don’t want to limit myself. The result has been that I can’t see the forest for the trees and rarely post on here.

I need to think of something to write about here, at least once a month. I was looking for some poems I’d written, because I wanted to find them and I also thought it would be an easy solution to the blockage. But I couldn’t find ’em, so they’re not up and neither is anything else, either.

Hmm… I need to think of something to write about on here.