An odd little thing I’ve noticed: my clothes take up less space. In the wardrobe, in the drawers, in a suitcase ready for a holiday, but especially when hanging things out to dry. My size 26 undies used to hog so much real estate! But now I can get two pairs on one row of the clotheshorse. It’s silly shit like this that keeps me going!
Three cheers for everyone’s favourite running supastar blogger YP with her incredible half-marathon today! Her time was speedy as hell. Kick ass. Inspirational stuff!
Feeling a wee bit homesick tonight. Firstly because Saffron used the word "texta" in a post. I haven’t heard anyone say that word out loud for almost three years and it made me feel a little funny inside.
Then another blogging fave mentioned a Sydney thunderstorm. I have not seen a single storm while living in Scotland. Strange eh? I grew up on a farm, and I miss looking up at a heavy sky, the unmistakable smell of rain approaching, especially strong when it hasn’t rained in ages. I miss the lightning and gurgling thunder, and the smell of damp soil afterwards. Over here it smells like rain all the bloody time, but it’s a grey and fusty smell.
But this is not an Australia v Scotland rant. I love it here too, don’t you know. Like yesterday when Scotland beat in England in the rugby, I was screaming at the telly like a native. I was just so proud of them boys. When you’re Australian you quite often get to see your team win, but the Scots hadn’t beat the English since 1999, and before that it was 1990. It was ridiculous how emotional I got. Hehe.
This entry hasn’t got much to do with fat, has it?
To be honest I’ve been having one of my stupid Existential Crises. Where I question why the hell I am doing this blogging malarkey. Not this blog so much as the other two. I just get overwhelmed sometimes, by the sheer number of blogs out there, this blur of voices. I wonder sometimes what is the point of my contributions. Am I just adding to the noise?
I also get overwhelmed with the task of keeping up with other people’s blogs and comments, and commenting on comments, etc etc. I don’t want anyone thinking I am some snobbyass blogging from my lofty tower. But I’ve been so obsessed with what everyone else is doing that I have neglected my own efforts. My new years writing goals have fallen by the wayside.
I have moaned about this to the poor Scottish Companion and he, as always, was wonderful about it. Don’t think I don’t know how lucky I am! I’ve been frankly quite jealous of him lately. He discovered Garage Band a few months ago and decided to make an album. He’s been tinkering away in his spare time, and already has half a dozen great songs. And why is he doing it? For the pure joy of making music. For fun. For himself.
I was jealous of his productivty and focus, and especially of the happy grin he gets after a session in the "studio". I realised that I have let the joy drain right out of the process. I’ve become too self-conscious about writing, ever since the audience got bigger and particularly when people I knew started reading. What I’ve got to do is Think Like The Scotsman, and get back to just writing freely and openly. To pretend noone is there like I used to, and just bloody do it instead of quietly freaking out.
Ack, it’s time for bed. Instead of editing this to death over the next five days in my usual manner, how bout I just hit Publish and to hell with it?