Ladies and gentlemen, it is with distinct pleasure that I announce I am 1 final exam away from finally being qualified to tell you what to do;organization wise. Now, now, I know you’re not as excited as I am. But I want you to know, you’re on the ground floor of what could be a very good thing. In all the text books I’ve been consuming, one thing stuck out: There is no organizational expert for the modern maiden, or man. With chapters dedicated to video cassette organization and paper catalogues, I think I’ve struck upon my niche. Or perhaps, it’s struck upon me. I will be able to create streamlined systems for the tech we have and the clouds we depend on. I will also be capable of parring down your clutter and building new habits and routines. Which will save you time, energy and lead you toward living the life you want. So, as I sit down to take the test that will seal my organizational fate, I’m revved up and ready to become the Modern Emily Post. And I will Post, right here;)
In the last few days I’ve been working my Joe-Job, which is great finance-wise, but not too awesome creative/love/emotion-wise. You know, so it got me thinking about working harder vs working smarter…And stuff like that. As always feel free to weigh in, in the comment space provided below.
Would you rather:
Work 5 days a week for 10 hours a day for the next 20 years and then retire comfortably
Work 7 days a week for 20 hours a day for the next 5 years and retire a millionaire
As a fan of ‘let’s get this over with mentality’ my instinct is to say work solidly for the next 5 years, especially if I get to come out a millionaire. But I do love a lazy Sunday. Though being a retired millionaire before my 40th birthday is very tempting. So, lets go fast and hard. Then lazy Sunday everyday!
Would you rather:
Never walk again but have everything you’ve ever wanted
Dance everyday until your death but always struggle to make ends meet
Um the problem with this is that if I can’t dance, I’d never have everything I wanted. Life will always be challenging but sometimes a little bit of dancing goes a long way.
Would you rather:
Have to carry around 100 more pounds but happy with your job
Be almost weightless but hate every minute of your job
I don’t want to work that hard to be happy…can you imagine carrying around all that extra poundage? Yuck. By expending all that extra effort, it might actually make me sad. But the idea of hating work while floating through life, isn’t too shabby. I could do that, unless it’s a 9-5 job, 5 days a week. Then let me carry the weigh at my freelance 3 days on 4 days off job.
Wowsa, can you believe I’ve written over 50 chapters of the Starving Artist? I mean, I can barely recall a Monday without serious cyber reflection. Now, not all of these entries have been deep or even meaningful, but they’ve all been a slice of me. And a benefit of sharing myself I have been about to shed unwanted weight, both physically and emotionally. This blog has become somewhat of a dumping ground for my overactive and cluttered brain. A healthy and hyperspace form of nearly free therapy. But the part I’m most surprised by is how much I’ve learned about myself and how much happier I’ve become.
In the past, I’ve found it hard to celebrate the little wins. I glean over them onto the next without pausing to think about how things have changed. Speaking of celebration, I am 20 days away from another milestone, my birthday. For some people getting older is tough. It’s as though they see life as a hallway with doors closing as they walk past. A journey with fewer and fewer detours. They treat life like the tedious daily grind it can be. As though each day is just another brick in the wall. The shuffle of tired feet and the shuffling of papers. A sad and sorry state of affairs if you ask me. I’ve always considered myself an optimism expert with a dark side. But in these last few months I’ve been feeling evermore that life is a tisket, a tasket, a little yellow basket. And this basket can hold as much life as I can carry; and with all the exercise I’ve been doing lately, I’m pretty strong.
Over the past 50 Mondays my life has changed and rearranged and continues to shape shift. As though my journey is aimed in the general direction of happiness, but the ocean of life keeps tossing me to and fro. Though if you know me, you know even stormy weather has a silver lining. The biggest secret I am busting to share though is: Even in a sea of trouble you can sail on a boat named Happiness. It’s all about how you read the maps. And today’s maps read like Thank you cards. There are so many things to be thankful for, and I am thankful for most of them. I am thankful that I’ve stuck to my guns. I am thankful that I am creating art again. I am thankful to be back in the work saddle again. I am thankful for dreary Sundays I can fill up with knick-knack nuggets that needed my attention. I am thankful for a Hubby who wears my gloves. I am thankful for my inspiring BFF. I am happy to feel at home. And I am happy to be 50, without looking a day over 32…for at least 20 more days.
We live in a world where retail bags come bedecked with motivational suggestions. Where every odd status update is up lifting. Where the sunny side of the street is always ready to flip your frown upside down. Even my fav Papa-grump knows that things look their bleakest they can get worse…wait that’s not what I wanted to say. Second times a charm. Even my fav Papa-grump knows that a spoonful of sugar distracts from the worst medicine. So, when the whole universe and everyone in it, is in such support of taking that chance, what is it that’s stopping you?
I know that taking a chance has so many scary possibilities attached to it. Fear of the unknown would have prevented us from going into space and found us living on a flat earth. That’s no fun. Laziness you say? Well, let’s just ignore that excuse. Cuz I’m too lazy to try convincing you otherwise. Actually getting what you want, only to realize it’s not what you wanted after all. Okay, valid, but are you really going to prevent yourself from grabbing the brass ring because you’re not sure you’ll want it later? That’s stupid, may I suggest reevaluation? It’s a very easy tool, and can help you re-jig your priorities. Oh you say you’ve got other road blocks? Well, let me assure you, you are not alone. But a blocked road always has detour signs, it’s just harder to find them sometimes.
So, what I want you to know is that today could/should/can be the day you make the decision to take a chance. Just a little chance. Be brave, be bold. Take a deep breath. Incite a mutiny and take control of your destiny ship. The time is now. Or at least the time is soon. Take the chance you’ve been avoiding. I know it won’t be easy. But I bet it’ll be easier than you think. And I’ll be here for you, for every little chance you take.
I know, I know, I am usually so on it, with it, powning it…but I am a little over stimulated. I have too much on too many plates, and they’re all spinning. Typically, I would give myself heck for not reaching my full potential…It’s just with moving, working full-time and all my extra-curriculars I have fallen into mental disarray. Plus, if I want to present a great first pass at my in-class performance- TODAY!!!, I have to focus on it. Trust me, I love being a modern woman and doin’ it all, but there aren’t enough hours in the day…There are only 24, you know. So, it is with great lamentation that I politely decline to blog. I know you’ll get over it. But Gracie will be around all week, falling all over herself just to talk to someone. And everyone deserves a summer holiday, right?
Summer is revving up and kicking itself into high gear. You know what that means? Teeny, weeny bikinis and sweating way too much. And all those shorts and tees from last summer season are now being rotated back into my wardrobe…the only problem is with the physical progress I’m making they’re sagging and sad and I can’t afford to replace them. I was taught growing up that appropriately sized clothing is an important part of looking your best. Clothes that are too small make even the sveltiest person look like an uncomfortable sausage. Though the flip side has baggy shapeless sacks adding lumps and bumps and blah to an otherwise ideal silhouette. I fall into the second category. Last year’s shorts are rumpled in the bum. The tanks droop in the neckline and arm holes. I look like a schmoe, in need of a serious $5000 makeover- tell me something new. Okay, enough with all that What Not to Wear stuff. Today, I realized that I have been writing about being an artist for the last 39 Mondays. Sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I am sad, but I am always creative…hopefully.
Over 40 weeks ago, I issued myself a challenge. I wanted to put up or shut up. It was time I started taking this little-performing thing seriously. It’s time I take what I want, instead of waiting for someone to give it to me. Now, those are all just adages that don’t make a whole lot of difference by themselves. I mean, Take one day at a time and write it beautifully in front of the setting sun, and all you have is a motivational sunset. It was time to take action. So, I started going to the gym. I started writing, creating and proving to myself (my toughest critic) that I was as talented as others told me I was, and more talented than I thought possible. Mentally, I’ve realized I’m wicked smaht *said of course with a Boston accent. Smarter than the average dummy and I can use that to my advantage; and should. Emotionally, I am still growing my thick skin but I have exposed more weakness this past year than in all my years before. Professionally, I have been looking over the occasional four leaf clover, but there hasn’t been much job security (that’s a beast). So, I am bumping and hustling to make ends meet; ensuring I still have time to pursue my bliss.
As for my physical progress, I have taken my own challenge quite seriously. Though to the casual observer, it may not seem like much… I mean, while home for Father’s Day I tried on a dress from Grade 8 and it still fit. So, when I say I have been this size my whole life, I’m not exaggerating. Though even I couldn’t believe it. I mean Hubby says I look better now than I did leading up to the wedding, which was so stressful I would forget to plan meal time. Now, I have doubled my athletic efforts, spending hours stretching, sweating and squatting. If I have dessert, it must be split with someone else- but I have forbidden myself to suggest it. I have cut down on my liquid calories, including my beloved patio season beers. I am trying my best not to eat after 9pm…I know it’s supposed to be 8pm but some days I don’t get home until then, and dinner doesn’t make itself. So with all those things in mind I have an update to my records…And though it may not seem like much, the winds of change are a’blowin’, and I love a good updraft.
Height 5’8 1/2″ I gained a half-inch and Hubby thinks it’s all neck
Weight 166.4 (+2.2 lbs)
Bust 38.5 (-.5″) whoo hoo!
Natural waist 31.25 (-.25″)
Hips 42.5 (-.5″)
Arm flex r:13.5 (+.5″) l:13.5 (+.5″) *Which way to the beach?
Arm rest r: 13 (+.5″) l:13 (+.5″)
Thigh standing r: 24.75 (-.25″) l:24.5 (-.5″)
I don’t like it when people beat me at things. I don’t like loosing. That applies to everything. I don’t like losing boardgames. I don’t like losing my grip on reality. I don’t like being #2. I don’t like losing jobs. It makes me angry. I admit, I can set my sights unrealistically high, becoming inconsolable when I am beaten by myself. And don’t even get me started when someone beats me at my own game. Let me just say: I am a poor loser.
My Bro and I are fond of saying we’re not competitive, we just like to win. There is nothing wrong with a strong sense of competition…unless losing throws you into a downward shame spiral. Of course, I am my own worst enemy. Which also makes me my own biggest adversary. My gym coach says I am a self deprecating heavy weight champion. She thinks I am too hard on myself. With the expectation of perfection on the first attempt. To be honest I have always worked on the theory if I beat myself up, nobody else will. And if I am not hard on myself, who else would be? I mean, I know we don’t have to look very far to find a dis-courtesy or disregard, but it is easier when I acknowledge I am a loser before being called one.
This Green Eyed Vixen hates losing, especially when the winner is present. I like to win prizes. I like to win contests. I like to win over an audience. I just like winning. In a few of my recent endeavours I have set specific goals for myself; only to be beaten by a classmate, friend or just random jerks. I am stubborn and determined and a bit lazy, but I think I deserve to be a winner. I guess I am just going to have to try harder and plot thicker. Now, if only I could figure out how to compete with only myself, instead of worrying about losing to people who don’t even know we’re competing. Maybe I should just tell them. And even though I may lose a battle or two, it might be sweeter if everyone I was battling knew they’d won. Then I could be the biggest loser, which is actually the winner at losing.
I ❤ being a Winner! So, don't be surprised if I loose it.