It would not be a lie to admit that there is an awful lot going on in my brain right now. I thought this morning about bullet pointing a load of questions and answers, but on reflection that only shows a part of a larger whole being redefined. The biggest takeaway from the last few days has to be that you cannot fix everything. That old adage about picking the battles has never been more true than it is right now. As a result, there needs to be a restriction in social media narration on my part: that work should be done here for the foreseeable future. After all, as someone rather cruelly pointed out a while back, this is my diary, so I should be able to write what I want. If you choose to either read or listen is entirely up to you.
If you want a metaphor for where I am right now, pomegranate works pretty well. Once upon a time, for the sake of convenience, I’d simply buy a packet that had been mass produced for my morning porridge, until there was the understanding that letting someone else do the work is not only false economy, but an empty gesture. This only happened because Mr Alt was unable to get the pre-packed stuff from the supermarket and came back with a whole fruit. Not wanting to waste the thing I went and looked up how to open it well, set at it, and gained a level of satisfaction that simply did not exist picking up a packet. Convenience has no real meaning to me now, I’d prefer the opposite if it allows time to stop and think.
However, it isn’t just process that I now find soothing. Like the callouses on hands from weightlifting, right thumb and index finger are stained with juice. For a while as a woman I entertained the notion of soft skin and unblemished digits, but that belied my joy of working ‘hands on’ at everything presented. This is a physical representation of what I am becoming: unafraid to push hard, not concerned with superficial. The obsession with beauty falls away, when all that matters is a body fit and strong to work and a brain active enough to argue with myself over details. When you don’t care what other people think of appearance, when the selfie is a reminder of happiness inside and no interest of what is presented… and then I have to stop and challenge that point.
I took this picture, purely and simply, to show off the fact that you can see my arms. I think they’re a decent manifestation of my physical progress, and am confident enough now to not cover them up. My daughter saw this picture and all that mattered was my breasts, which is 100% NOT the point. Someone else commented on my muscle tone, which was a lovely compliment but also not why it was taken… and then comes the realisation that any picture I take is going to be interpreted like this going forward. What I want from the process is vastly different from what is perceived by others: I knew a month of dissecting John Berger would have use. From now on, I think everybody would be best served by me just presenting pictures that focus simply on the point I want to make. Next time, take a picture of the shirt without me in it.
Sometimes, you shouldn’t live life in public. My problem at present is having no-one to talk to about what’s going on at length because it’s a stupidly busy week and for the last three night I’ve fallen asleep before getting to see my best mate. There is no time to relax and go see anybody else either or kick back, because of the shittonne of work to do first. The state of affairs is, in itself, nothing to complain about either. However, somewhere between 2000 and now the World seems to believe the only way to live successfully is to share every single detail of your life on a minute by minute basis. That’s great if the person concerned is able to cope with the inevitable consequences, but not so awesome if they can’t. In fact, being invited to watch people publicly meltdown cannot be far off.
Hang on, I just invented Reality TV.
I need a lie in on Saturday. It’s the first day of the Summer Break. I can manage that. Then I need to clear all the backlog of work I have so that I can start fresh on Monday, despite saying I’ll take the weekend off. After that? There are lots of things to change, to improve how life works, they all just need to be planned an implemented. With less time spent narrating on my life and more time really living it?
Yeah, this is utterly doable.