Category Archives: creativity

The Seven Minute Itch

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m incredibly sleep-deprived. I’ve always been somebody who skimped on sleep with the intention of fitting so much more into my waking hours. Despite this inevitably always backfiring, with me ending up too exhausted to do all the fun/important things I’d planned, I never stopped trying to burn the candle at both ends.

I just cannot ignore that this type of lifestyle is not working for me anymore. It’s totally unhealthy to have some sort of vague, unspecified bed time. More often than not I’ll end up lying down for “five minutes”, just to “rest my eyes”, and I’ll wake up hours later in the wee small hours with all my clothes on, my eyes glued shut because I didn’t remove my contact lenses, and without having brushed my teeth.

So, I’ve decided that this needs to change. There are four things I would like to happen every day. The first two are things that the average person doesn’t even think about out, and just takes for granted, but somehow I find them incredibly difficult:

(1) Get 7.5-8 hours sleep a night (This means going to bed at 10:00 a.m., maybe reading to 10:30 p.m., and getting up at 6:00 a.m.)

(2) Eat three consistent meals.

The other two things are goals related more to spirituality and creativity:

(1) Meditate every day

(2) Blog every day

And I want to do both of these things even if I only have a few minutes to spare, like tonight.

I’m sure that this blog post (written in 8 minutes – I cheated) isn’t exactly entertaining, but the point is to get into the habit of writing every day, even if I don’t have the time to knock out an amazingly analytical work of art.

And now….I’m off to meditate for 10 minutes. Then bed, and reading.



I’ve thought for years that 2013 would be my year – the year when everything finally worked out, and I’d be “successful” (whatever that means). I thought this because I was convinced that I would come into my own when I finally turned thirty-five. I’m not sure why I thought this, but I just did.

After the weekend I’ve just had, I would have to be fucking Pollyanna to continue to believe that this is going to be the case. For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve basically lain in bed the whole time, staring at the ceiling, and crying.  I was supposed to go to work yesterday, and today, but I called in sick. I don’t think I’m going to go tomorrow either.

I have done no housework for days, and there is barely a clean dish to make myself any food, so I don’t eat anything or, if I do, it’s cereal. Much to my eternal shame and guilt, I also didn’t feed any of the pets until long after the usual time because I couldn’t rouse myself to get out of bed to do so.

I have no clean clothes, and, in fact, I’ve slept in the ones I’m currently wearing two nights in a row. It goes without saying that I haven’t brushed my teeth or washed my face, and my hair looks like I stuck my finger in an electric socket.

I also haven’t cleaned the litter boxes in days, which is a big, big problem when you have so many cats. What with the terrible stench in the house and my dishevelled, dirty appearance, I am a classic crazy cat lady.

I feel very hopeless, isolated and lonely. I know that I need to get back to meditating, and start working the SLAA steps, but both of these tasks seem so daunting, and time-consuming. I want a quick fix! I know that’s lazy, but I do. Or I want a guarantee that meditating and doing the steps will revolutionize my life. I want the promise of results, goddammit!

I think that part of the reason I’ve stopped meditating and haven’t started working the steps yet is because I am scared to death that they won’t help me. This makes no logical sense whatsoever, but, in some way, it’s comforting not to do anything, as that way I can hold on to the hope that there is something out there that could help me. If I start meditating/working the steps, and they don’t help, then I’ll have nothing. All hope will be gone.

It’s the same way with writing. How much easier it is to sit on the sidelines, bitching about other people I consider less talented than myself who are successful writers than actually getting around to doing any writing myself. It’s comforting to think of myself as a talented writer who “just cannot get started” rather than a “writer manqué” who just doesn’t have it in her to be successful.

I don’t have faith in anything at the moment – not myself and certainly not a Higher Power.


Breaking Promises

Hello, little blog. It’s been a while – a month to be exact. I got a little tired of walking to the lake at lunchtime to blog frantically for the last fifteen minutes of my lunch break. It wasn’t terribly relaxing.

Not much to report as usual. Same old dead-end job; broke; tired, depressed; self-hating and self-defeating. The cherry on the top of my shit cake is that our landlords, and their evil property management company, are absolute cunts (I mean, seriously, that word was invented for them), and they’re trying to get rid of us…for what? For standing up for our rights really. It’s all a bit stressful. Of course,  I suppose I could just roll over and let them shaft me up the arse, but, nah, I don’t think so. I’ll be seeing them down the JP Court, thank you very much.

The one bright light in my tunnel of doom is that I am in a new musical project. I met a musician on Craigslist (is there anything you can’t find on that website?!) and we’re getting along very well, both musically and personally. Well, he could be a bit more emotive, and say what he means more often, but, well, you can’t have everything.

My only concern about this project is that I have neglected my “own music”. I was supposed to be coming home at night and practising piano, and making my music. To be honest, though, I prefer working with somebody who challenges me and tells me what to do. It’s not that I don’t have ideas; oh, I have plenty of ideas, and that’s the problem. I have a hard time focusing on just one idea, and I get terrified and overwhelmed by them all, and then I don’t do anything. It’s a relief to let somebody else steer me a little.

I feel guilty that I don’t have enough gumption or “get up and go” to make music on my own, but maybe that’s just the kind of person I am, creatively. Maybe I just need structure. My life kind of fell to pieces after university because I wasn’t used to not having a place to be, an essay to write, a book to read etc. In my last year, when everybody was freaking out about our final exams, I was a little oasis of calm. I must be the only person who actually enjoyed finals. And I’ll tell you why – it was the fucking papers we had to write throughout the year that terrified me because, technically speaking, there was no fucking end to the amount of research I could do. And that’s what happened. I would research a paper for weeks, and weeks, and weeks until I had so much fucking information I didn’t know what to do with it. In comparison, two weeks of finals, which had so much ridiculous significance for my overall grade, were nothing. A three hour exam in which I have to write something about Goethe? Pfft. Bring it on. I loved the fucking time limit. I loved being limited.

It’s the same thing when it comes to writing. I have so many ideas, but I just don’t know where to get started. I just wish somebody would fucking hire me, and tell me what subject to write about. Sigh.



Still a moany wee shite.

Wow, I had no idea that the last time I posted on here was January 6th! I thought my last post was in mid-February. I should have realized it was a long time when I attempted to log into WordPress, and had a hard time remembering my user ID and password. Thanks to those chipmunk aficionados, though, my stats haven’t taken much of a beating. In fact, insultingly, my busiest day ever was January 7th with over 300 hits!

Since I’ve been gone, lots of things have happened. “MM” and I passed our immigration interview, and so now I have a two-year green card. I’ll get the ten-year one at the end of next year (if we haven’t got divorced, that is!). I also passed my driving test about a month ago. Both of these things mean that it will be much easier for me to find a teaching job. I’ve been substitute teaching in a neighbouring school district in the hope that that will help me get my foot in the door there.

You’d think I’d be happy, wouldn’t you? But, well, I wouldn’t be the same moany wee shite you know and love if I was happy. I still have days (like today and yesterday actually) when I’m crushingly depressed, and I wish I could just stay in bed all day. I fantasize about slashing my wrists, or putting a bullet through my head. I don’t know why I feel this way. It just seems that nothing ever changes. I feel hopeless.

Last week was a particularly difficult week, as it always is in Mid-March, because there was a massive music festival here. Every year I’m reminded by all the musicians floating around of how I’m a talented singer and yet I do nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, with my talent. It’s the same thing with writing. I have all these ideas for articles, but I never do anything.

I picked up my copy of “The Artist’s Way” this morning, and read through the first chapter with the intention of working through all the exercises. Maybe this time it’ll help unblock me. I can’t help but be discouraged, though, whenever I look at the date I wrote on the inside cover when I started using it the first time – January 15th 2007. 2007! More than three years have passed, and still I’m completely artistically frustrated and blocked. Admittedly, I didn’t really follow the book properly, so it’s no bloody wonder I failed.

At the weekend, I posted an ad online to see if I can find musicians to collaborate with. Every so often I’ll realize that I’m wasting my vocal abilities, and I’ll frantically spend about a week or two trying to find somebody to work with. I’ll meet up with a few, but nothing ever seems to fit. I shouldn’t let that discourage me really, and should keep on looking…but I don’t, and then I forget all about making music. If I can forget so easily, maybe I don’t even want it enough.

Even blogging is a chore these days, another stick to beat myself about the head with. I find it hard, if not downright impossible, to keep up with all of the other blogs I read. I don’t know how you do it, but everybody else seems to manage it. They manage to write a post per day, read and comment on other people’s blogs, and then respond to comments on their own blogs in a timely fashion. All that, and they’ve got a life as well! If I did that, my life would consist only of blogging! Yet another reason to feel guilty and “less than”.