#53.20 - Ridiculously productive

FREDERIC VARADY

McCall's - 1957

This holiday has been ridiculously productive so far. I'm not gonna be smug cos, you know... I was smug before, but I managed to write, start running, finish the laundry, clean Ma's place, do laundry THERE, unblock the sink by removing the ubend, get loads of paperwork in order, get finances in order, etc, etc... then I came home and just lazed about. Yeah sure I could have done more here, but it's the holidays, what you gonna do right? I know I need down time too. So I watched lots of catch up TV. Finished The Good Place, AGAIN, cos I didn't really pay attention to the last series and had no idea what was happening, finished Good Omens, watched two episodes of Death in Paradise and then watched The Pale Horseman, which was weird. I made dinner for the boys - miso soup and flavoured rice - and then went to bed at 8 pm.

I toldja - it was ridiculously productive. I know, I should have tidied a bit more, but the entire house has been made chaotic by the most disorganised painting session and I'll be damned if I am going to get involved. So I just stand by. There are still four loads of undried laundry in the kitchen. Have no idea when that is going to be seen to.

But that doesn't matter. What matters is that our laundry is done and sorted.

I was thinking about boundaries yesterday. Yep boundaries. The problem has mainly been boundaries. I think that is the thing mostly about narcs. They have no idea what boundaries are. And this may be because of the sense of touch. If you were never touched, held properly, then you do not know where you begin and the other ends. This is why you must pick babies up when they cry, you must establish routines for children, you must hold people, you must have this in your culture. Cultures which are cold and unfeeling inevitably have no boundaries. Real Chinese, traditional Chinese culture for instance - really dysfunctional.

I was thinking about a name and the name Devon Blair came to me... I can't decide of the protagonist is male or female... I quite like it being neither.

Today I head to Moira and I may just call into Portmore Lough - hmmmm.... I've just realised I haven't seen my blue outdoors coat for ages now. I really like that coat. It is in essence who I am. They don't make them like that anymore...

I haven't been to Portmore since Eddie died, I don't think. No, I tell a lie... no, I don't Eddie's funeral was on the first day of school. The first day of Class One. Dear Eddie. We loved him so much.

I was also really annoyed yesterday as I listened to Start the Week. There was this breathy annoying woman whom I nearly lost the rag with. She appears to have written a book about travelling which has not taken any postcolonial theory into account. It was like oh how wonderful Captain Cook - it was like stupid on the levels of 1950s stupid. Like the last seventy years didn't happen. Oh us wonderful jolly Europeans, just travelling to better ourselves. It was also tiresome. God, so tiresome. To think that this is now what qualifies for academia. It's fine you know though. Because previously when academia was pretty left wing it didn't do a lot to change the world. Sometimes I look at all the books which Peter has and I wonder, how in the wide world did I think this was sexy?

Today we literally can know everything and it hasn't improved our lives nor the state of the planet one bit. Recently I saw an article about one of the giant Garbage Patches - to say it is a patch is a joke - it is five miles long. It is not a fucking patch. It is a floating island of crap. However, perhaps it is now developing its own ecosystem. Maybe it is better that it is collected into the one place and taken care of, eventually, over time. I don't care anymore in the sense that people who know better should do better. The waste - the waste of society - that is intolerable. I really try not to waste.

So, I have devised pairings with my activities. I have to do this because it helps me.

In the morning, when I get up, first thing - tea with milk. One cup. This is blogging drink.

Then for my creative writing, espresso - up to three cups.

My run follows next, then at breakfast, after breakfast - Vit C, homemade kombucha, iron and menopause support - which I discovered is FULL of magnesium. The magic ingredient.

Breakfast is two eggs and bread. I am happiest this way.

Then tea through the rest of the day. On Saturday or Sunday, one bottle of cider - very week, like 3%. That's all I can handle. I can't drink spirits or beer. Not really. I can drink wine, but I'd rather just have one tiny bottle of cider.

And that's it.

That's all I got so far.

I'm going to clean the wall before I set off today - the wall in the kitchen.

No insights yesterday, apart from that women actually cultivate this breathy persona  in order to be cute and get their way in the world of men. It is actually really annoying. Sounding stupid. However they used to stay in their territory of godldiggers, actors, entertainers, office bimbos. Now they have infiltrated academia. It doesn't matter I guess...

Right, time to get going with my writing. I'm going to write this for two weeks and see where it gets me. Even if it is crap.