Quirks

This post from the most fabulous Savannah started me thinking about quirks; my own in particular. When you walk into the Palais de Roses, you'd be forgiven for thinking I'm a lazy, good for nothing shite. There are piles of unopened post by my front door. It's generally messy. There are usually piles of unwashed dishes stacked in my kitchen. Housework is one of those things that I get around to eventually; and eventually hasn't quite happened yet.

However, there are somethings which I have to do, or have to have or Life suddenly becomes unbearable. Things that drive me nuts. I realise I'm not so lazy, laid back or accepting. I am prepared to go to war for these things.

I must have my smoking tin organised. The papers have to be a particular thickness, the brand of tobacco can not change and the filters must be the extra-slim. Additionally, I must have a particular brand of match to poke the tobacco down and I can't use anything other than the Poppell click brand of lighters (I prefer their blue and dark green lighters).

I must have one good cup of coffee to start my day. No suprise to you, I'm sure. I can cope with all the instant crap in the world, but if my day doesn't start with that first cup of ground, filtered coffee I might as well go back to bed.

Toilet paper must be positioned on the roll holder so the paper drapes over. I have been known to go to other peoples' houses and re-position their loo rolls for them. No, it's not negotiable. Yes, I do recognise peoples' rights to be wrong and misguided, but no, that's the only proper position for a loo roll.

I can't abide newspapers, books or miscellaneous items on sofas, chairs or futons. I collect them and put them on the floor or nearby table. Drives me nuts. Don't ask me why, I have no idea. I don't have a problem with a messy floor, I do with a messy couch.

I will straighten pictures hanging on the wall.

I am especially fussy about stationery. I will not write with anything other than a purple pilot V5 pen in my Moleskine journal. I will take into places of work, my own pens, mechanical pencils and eraser and God help the person that tries to walk off them. I nearly committed violence yesterday when I realised one of my clients walked off with a pen. Black ink for work, blue for personal correspondence.

I will only wear silver jewellry. I always wear my new moon. I will take it off for massages, but that's it. I don't wear a watch and don't like bracelts, they always feel like handcuffs to me. I wear one silver ring on my 'status' finger, even though I am neither married nor engaged. It confuses the hell out of people and I have no problem with that.

When I read books, I don't fold down corners to mark my place or bend the spine. I won't lend my books to people who do. Most of my books look like I've never read them, when in fact I've read and re-read them. I will only let go of text books or books that are so awful that I've never finished them, or would never read them again. Probably why I have 5 book shelves, double stacked in places. I'm still in mourning for the books I had to leave behind in Trinidad, I just didn't have any room for them. No doubt, Amazon will be getting another large order from me soon. When I find an author I like, I will buy up their entire list, credit card allowing. I have to read series in order from the first one. I don't borrow books from the library because I like to have the books sitting on my shelves waiting for me. Yes, it means I occasionally get caught with a complete dog, but I'm still not willing to change, even with my credit card moaning pathetically.

In my study, I have three corkboards upon which I pin lyrics from songs, poems, quotes, cards and mementos from good times: train and plane tickets, posters etc. They are pinned with ladybird pushpins (thumb tacks for you over the water). I can't not have the ladybirds. Every Samhain (31st of October), I strip the boards, put all of the bits and pieces away in a box file and start again.

I paused in my writing, to go over and edit. I'm going to stop now. I think I understand now why I'm single.

What Plan?

It's funny really. I know exactly what to do in a crisis, I can problem solve for other people in a heartbeat, I can get on the phone and give Richard Branson shit for not sorting out my wretched box, or blast a solicitor for giving me 24 hours notice to transfer money across into their holding account. I'm just not very sure what to do when things are turning out well.

Life is so much easier, if you've got a Plan that goes tits up, or even occaisionally a Plan that goes right (though I've not had much experience of that one). I'm now sitting here with a vague sense of unease that something is about to go completely pear-shaped and I should be addressing it immediately. But I just can't figure out why. Yes, I'm procrastinating shouting at the tax people and I still haven't looked for my metres or sorted out my TV License...but these are balls which I know are sitting at my feet.

I suspect I'm just not used to things working out well for me. My job is going well. I met a friend who I haven't seen in years and we were talking about work and study and my house move and she laughed and said 'ah you're a grown-up now'. And I realised she's right. These are grown-up decisions I've been making. I want a stable and comfortable home for Boy, the Cat and me. I want regular employment, I want a car that gets me from A to B in a reliable, but fun way. In the last 6 months I have come to value paying bills on time, buying food without thinking 'how much?'. There is much to be said for going shopping without the guilt for the Indulgencies. I am getting used to this.

Does this mean I'm becoming 'normal'? This is slightly worrying for me. I mean I'm paying a mortgage, living in a semi, driving a BMW, earning an honest living. Am I turning into someone I never wanted to be? Am I turning into a suburban, net-curtain twitching, repressed woman?

Dunno. Only time will tell. Perhaps this blog will soon be filled with the mis-adventures of shopping in John Lewis? I hope not.

Change One Thing

Along with the New Year comes the resolutions which I refuse to make - it's the only resolution I can stick to. I was watching Gillian McKeith on Tuesday and I was struck by a couple of thoughts and a bit of a paradox I wanted to share.

At present, it seems like all channels are bombarding their viewers with 'improvement' shows. How to improve your home, your children, you. Extreme vs. non-extreme. Plastic surgery, diet, shopping, therapy. All with the basic premise which I found deeply saddening ~ there is something wrong with 'you' that these measures will fix. There is also the equally worrying assumption that once 'you' have a new wardrobe, a new face, a new body, all will be well. I know I'm being slightly naive, happy people don't make good television. No one seems to want to celebrate success, unless it comes with a clear cost.

Anyway, I digress. For an hour I watched Dr McKeith (please note, she is not a medical doctor, a fact that seems not to figure prominently anywhere in her bumpf) bully and terrorise two hapless people. Meat, dairy products as well as a whole host of 'naughty' foods were cut out of their diets. They had to exercise 3 times a day for half an hour every day. Their excrement was examined, analysed and mocked. As were her subjects. At the end of her regime, there can be no doubt, her two subjects looked fitter and appeared to have gained in self-confidence. I do not doubt for a moment that adopting her regime worked for these two.

I have spent a bit of time wondering why the whole process rubbed me up the wrong way. Then I realised what it was. It was a puritan regime. It's success depends on the denial of pleasure. I'm sorry but drinking a glass of kale juice does not constitute pleasure in my reality. I have no doubt that she would argue that my tastebuds have been deadened by sugar, caffeine and msg. She's probably right. Would I give up meat, dairy products, wine, ribena, caffeine, sugar, potatoes, chocolate, crisps to become a 'better person'?

Ummm....no.

Which brings me neatly to my paradox. Most people lack confidence, self-esteem, they'll give you a list of their short-comings, faults, dislikes about their bodies. The self-help world tells us that we have the power to change these things and that we'll become happier if we do. Really? So in essence we have have to learn to like ourselves and change the things we don't like. Tell me again, how does that work?

I'm quite aware of the shortcomings of my life-style. More exercise and more fresh fruit and veg are always on my To Do List. I suppose I really enjoy my vices, I do try to keep them in moderation. But their presence in my life brings me a great deal of pleasure. That seems to be missing from the You are What you Eat Regime. I'm a Taurean, and the pursuit of pleasure and sensual activities are inherent Taurean traits. *slaps Monkfish and Cogidubnus for any double entendres - that's not what I mean*. Good food, good drink, shiney things, pleasureable company, good films, books....all these things enhance my life.

I don't mean to be personal, but when you look at Gillian McKeith. She is obviously slender and fit, but there's always a pinched expression and an almost religious zeal in her eyes. Perhaps I'm being unfair but, compare her with Nigella Lawson. Nigella is sensual, voluptuous and I love the naughty twinkle in her eye. So Gillian might live a bit longer, I bet Nigella will have more fun. I know who I'd rather aspire to be.