Project 8 - Get happy, stupid.

I've been a gloomhilda this week. Normally this is when I just put my head down, avoid interaction and try to ride it out. I have nothing to complain about, but we can't be shiny all the time, right?

So I've tried a bunch of things to improve my mood, rather than waiting for it to get better, and in the grand tradition of the internets, I've made a list to share with you.

I call it

My List of Things That By Rights Should Improve My Sooky-La-La Temperament.

1. Trampoline. Jump like a crazy coconut until your PF muscles remind you that you've had two children and neglected your Kegels. (It's good cardio-whatchathingy too, apparently.)

 

2. Fondle haberdashery. Either this makes perfect sense to you, or you're glazing over. Whatever. I'm hot for fabrics and don't care who knows it.

 

3. Avoid the internet. If you're in a tetchy kinda mood, maybe the photo-perfect lives and exploits of others isn't what you need.

 

4. Season 1 of True Blood. Vampire Bill - hello, salty goodness. Am I right?

 

5. Dancing like a dickhead. This only works if you are a very bad dancer, which luckily I am! Venue? The loungeroom. Visual reference? This piece of gold.

 

6. Hugs. From the kids, randoms in public, whoever will stand still long enough and not call security. 

 

7. Write that shit down! As horribly honest, mean-tempered and foul-mouthed as you can, write down exactly how you're feeling and then burn it, recreate it as interpretive dance, throw yourself a tickertape parade. It's healthy, and way cheaper than a therapist.

 

 

 

 

Verbs are doing words

Encouraging - myself to stick to it. I've mentioned before that I'm really good at starting things, but not quite as ace with the finishing part. Knowing this about myself, I've set a task of writing a 55,000 word novel. I've even given myself permission to be as bland and underwhelming as possible. This will make sense to you if you are a ideas-driven, head-in-the-clouds perfectionist with the attention span of a gnat. I realised that as soon as I gave myself  a little permission to fail, all the assumed pressure dropped away. I don't have to write the most perfect and amazing novel in the world, I just have to write something.

Craving - the sun.

Yup. There, I said it. I am 100% certain that this weather system can go suck an egg. Vamoose! Scram! Get the damn hell gone.

Sucking - up the information. Fascinate by Sally Hogshead is a slice of marketing nouse, aimed at people who want to understand what creates and controls that powerful quirk of human behaviour - fascination. This is psychology at its most fickle, really. Half the time what drives us to make our choices is so basic (and base) it's almost embarrassing. Think Salem witches, the first economic bubble caused by the prestige of tulips, and Marx being well off the mark about diamonds.

Fascination reminds me of The Psychopath Test, because of the way it's encouraged analysis of the people around me. I know some very fascinating people, and now I can dissect them to understand why. Yes, dissect them! Cut open their brains! MwahahaHA!

All those awesome children of the MTV era - this is for you. You know who you are. If you don't like this clip of The Cure, singing Fascination Street, I order you to get off my blog right now and never ever come back.

Lolita Love

 

I stumbled across this clip a little while ago, and everytime I watch it, I fall in love. It seems to catch hold of something lovely and ethereal and bittersweet, and zooms me straight into when I was little and spent a lot of time exploring in the bushland with Kirsty. We made up whole new lands and personas, and it was more real than anything else.

 

But we never met a stag*. Which is probably a good thing?

 

 



 

*A white stag (!) and a doe sometimes appear at the edge of the heavily treed land behind Kirsty's house. They never stay long enough for me to give them a hug.