Category Archives: Reality

What. A. Year.

December 31, 2012 2:12 pm ,

January:

Jan 25: 25/365

Neck pain. Exhaustion. Turning 34 (with tiara). Little knitting, little typing. The Mad Year of Reading begun. I fall deep in love with my Kindle. Also, the year of shooting more film than digital and serious, yet unplanned, rethinking.

February:

Frosted Sunset

A new fridge. We discovered Netflix and watched every bad 80s film ever. (Teen Witch, gotta love it.) An early hint of the mantra of the year to come: I’m ok with that. (This after trying to read 1Q84.) Daily writing is happening, which is a good thing and about as much writing as I’ll get done this year.

March:

March 8: 68/365

A hot spring. Film and books, books and film. A new purple couch. Puffy hexes. Style Statement and a new camera (Leica AF-C1).

April:

April 1: 92/365

I plan to give blogging one last good shot. We watched Les Miserables be filmed in Winchester. A trip to a local water garden and Blenheim Palace. A new lens (Canon 50mm f/2.5 macro). I go GF.

May:

Remembering Spring

I won a new camera (Diana Mini). We instigate the Weekly Walk, or given my physical ability on the day, the Weekly Shuffle With Lots of Sitting Down. It gets hot again. Super Flare hits and never really goes away. Evil nightmares begin in earnest. I think about honesty in blogging. Again. “…if you weren’t perfect, self-sacrifice was a worthy currency.” Saw friends, including the lovely Melissa (who is in the country at the moment but has been too sick to visit. And now I’m sick. Urgh.) I refuse.

June:

Soldiers!

It’s the 1940s. Glastonbury, local wandering and the Jubilee. The love affair with film continues. I tried Polaroid and decided against it.

June, When The Year Broke In Half:

My Week

I wind up in A&E (ER) and leave with a diagnosis of severe muscle spasms and a high dosage muscle relaxer. Two days after, on a trip to Alton for a Jane Austen celebration, I fall over in the high street breaking three bones. A Lisfranc fracture (that’s 2nd and 4th base metatarsals) and the first metatarsal. I still can’t watch Jane Austen. Up until this point I was exercising daily and really feeling stronger for the first time in ages. That all went away. So begins the first of 6 months )so far) on crutches and the Broken Foot Saga.

July:

British F1 Grand Prix

I broke my Kindle and got a replacement. X-rays and CT scans and A&E and doctors and bad medicine reaction and 12 hours puking and 5 different casts. Formula 1 at Silverstone.

(Nearly) August:

London 2012 Olympics: Three Day Eventing

We went to the Olympics. Non-weight bearing and a hot pink cast.

September:

Destuffing: Result

I try knitting again (doesn’t really work). Sitting around doing nothing but reading, thinking and looking around, The Great Destuff of 2012 officially begins. We drink the Expedit kool aid. I get rid of over half my wardrobe with help from The No-Brainer Wardrobe. Lots of epiphanies and rethinks. Finally out of a cast.

October:

Twilight Winchester

Fire Starter Sessions radically change my thinking. Mom Visit 2012 happens. Finally out of the air cast.

November:

Diana Mini

Film and Thanksgiving. Health not so good again.

December:

New Forest Christmas Market

A new camera (Pentacon Six TL), Christmas. No more reading or knitting. More health problems. Rain. Still on crutches but I’m walking. Walking!

A winter's morning.

2012. Well, I’m glad it’s over. A difficult, maybe a necessary, year but I’m ready for the “necessary” stuff being awesome like winning the lottery and magically getting better and being off crutches and explosions of awesomeness. I currently have a stonking cold and a doctor’s appointment and it’s pouring rain and most of my plans for this year went out the window with the neck and the foot.

Ho hum. Here’s to 2013 being a year of awesomeness and wonder and pleasantness. No pain, no vertigo, no stupid health problems, and a healed foot!

Happy 2013.

Posted in: photography, reality

Unglamorous Reality

February 7, 2012 4:19 pm ,

Feb 7: 38/365

So. I am writing a book. Let me clarify that a little since I have been writing a book since I was 11. It was the same book. In fact, I’m still hoping one day I have the ability to write it. But at the moment, I am actively working on something else. A book. A single, particular, book. Not the nebulous kind I’ve been working on for the past 23 years.

So. I am writing a book. I am on chapter one. I am managing about 30 minutes a day on it. This isn’t much but this is my current time limit. Blame the brain fog, the fibro inability to sit in one position for too long, the recovering neck injury that dislikes too much typing, the constant water refills (Sjogren’s) and the plain ol’ writing issues. Oh, and the distractions that are Twitter and Pinterest. But you know, something is *something*. And I’m doing something.

Beyond the physical and creative issues, there’s another more mundane issue. It is really unglamorous. I have wanted to be a writer since I was 5 years old. And somewhere, even now, I have this image of a writer. I probably won’t be writing at a cafe in Paris anytime soon, wearing all black and drinking even blacker coffee. But there’s this image anyway: smartly dressed, coffee in hand, going to writing groups and readings and being all intellectual and stimulated and so awfully, awfully sophisticated. Right now I am wearing a pair of giant men’s sweatpants. A t-shirt, a long sleeved shirt that was not house wear until I lost weight and now it looks terrible on me. A grunge original flannel shirt. A knitted cowl that has seen better days and a knitted hat that hasn’t. Yet. Handknit socks with a hole in the heel and fluffy supermarket slippers. And I write. Not exactly the image I was expecting. Sometimes I think that’s why I’d love to do proper photography shoots or even weddings: I’d have a job where I’d have to look presentable if not plain nice.

Feb 6: 37/365

I don’t suppose the writerly image appeals to me really anyway. Except for the coffee which I cannot drink since the caffeine messes with my heart and the coffee itself upsets my stomach. I was an English major once and the discussion and dissection of writing was not stimulating. It was depressing. And I think that particular writerly image is the one I created when I was younger. And when I was younger, I saw my future unfolding in Los Angeles where that kind of thing is normal. In a small city in southern England, it’s not so normal. We don’t even have a Starbucks. And I’ve tried a poetry slam and I hated it. So. Expected reality sometimes needs a rethink.

I’d still like to wear jeans and smart t-shirts and those gorgeous cashmere cardigans from The White Company. Handmade jewelry and designer glasses. (I have the latter, if Mossimo counts as designer. They were cheap.) But it’s cold. And I’m comfortable. And £250 on a cardigan? Even if it is cashmere? I’d rather buy yarn. Or books. Or old film cameras. (I am so after a Leica AF-C1 at the moment.)

Feb 5: 36/365

So. My reality is half sublime and half ugly. I’m writing. Like actually, properly giving this the best shot I can manage. And that is awesome. But I feel ugly doing it. And not just the clothes. There’s this sad truth that how you dress tells people (including yourself) a lot about who you are or how you feel about yourself. At the moment I’m telling myself that I’m ugly, worthless and lazy. Which is something I’ve heard before, believe me.

So. People who work from home: how do you manage to feel good about yourself and how you look?

(Random photos from YIP.)

Posted in: reality, stories we are

CRANKY

November 30, 2011 3:35 pm ,

Yes. I am cranky. Like whoa cranky. I’m tired. Everything’s got that stressed out, over-committed, can I PLEASE just get a break now, bone level exhaustion that despite all my best efforts tends to show up in December. For the past three days I have meant to do nothing but sit on my butt and rest. Drink lots of tea and read lots of Anne of Green Gables and knit. I have done none of these things. I have been trying to get things done since OMFGBBQ, it’s next YEAR in a month.

November 30

So a few things:

1. I need a paper organizer type system for 2012. Huge stacks of stapled together to-do lists does not help me actually get things done. And having no place to write down things I need to remember weeks or months in advance leads to panic because I forget about it until it needs to be done yesterday. I have tried all manner of paper systems from Filofaxes to random pieces of paper to weekly diaries. Nothing seems to work for me. I’m playing with the idea of a Moleskine hack. Something. Anything. Help!

People with systems: what do you use and like?

2. I got a roll of film stuck in a camera this morning. A combination of the film not wanting to load very well (apparently a common AE-1 Program problem) and then making a total rookie mistake of overshooting the roll. I was expecting to get that end of roll feeling and then *flump* there went the film.

The kicker is, I know how to fix this problem. But I don’t have the tools to do so. So I have to take it to someone who does.

Grandma's Punch

3. This time of year the pressure to shop is crazy. We don’t have a tv, I don’t listen to commercial radio, I have an ad blocker on Safari. And yet I *still* find the pressure exists. They must pump it into the water supply or something.

4. This blog layout is driving me crazy. Every time I think I’ve sorted out something that was wrong, something else pops up. Avoid looking at the footer at all costs. Sometimes I wish I’d stayed on Blogger – so much easier to make pretty!

Compromise

5. Currently on the needles: blanket, cardigan, sweater, socks. Waiting on yarn for a Stripe Study along with a bunch of Twitter people. And I want to cast on for a new worsted scrap blanket because it’s cold. So with the no knitting thing, this is where I start screaming. At least I have no gift knitting left to do! Knitting stresses me out sometimes. I know it shouldn’t be that way but it is.

6. I cannot drink coffee and boy howdy, do I need it today.

Bokeh Tree

Bleh. Have a cup of coffee for me.

Posted in: holidays, life = whirlwind, photography, reality

Losing The Will To Live

February 3, 2011 9:26 pm ,

Before you think I’m suicidal or anything, let me say that winter saps my will to live every. single. year. It’s so grey. And dark. And wet. And cold. And you think longingly of spring which doesn’t really kick in until May although you may get weeks of spring like weather only to have it snatched back from you. And of course, come summer I will be lamenting the lack of air conditioning and the humidity and how goodness, I want it to get cold already. The problem is where I’m from. You have nice weather in Southern California by default. Here it’s a rarity.

365.264: Ideal Sunday

It does not help that nothing has worked out like I planned for 2011. I know it’s early days but that’s already 1 month of 12 down and I haven’t DONE ANYTHING. I have been knee deep in old habits and mindsets that I really thought were gone. I’ve been run down. I’m worn out and annoyed to no end.

365.266: Meet The Stash

To top it all off, it looks like I can’t knit socks anymore. I know in comparison to life changes and floundering to become more authentic this is a minor problem. But I knit to keep myself sane and I knit socks to keep mine and J’s feet warm. After an evening of knitting the cuff of a sock I couldn’t sleep due to shoulder pain. This SUCKS. I will try it once again just to be sure once the pain dies down. But if not… no more handknit socks for us. I wonder if I can get every knitter I know to send single socks for me and J. We’ll wear mismatched socks with joy, believe me.

So, there you go. Let’s hope February is better. And brighter.

Posted in: knitting, photography, reality, stories we are

Summer Vacation

May 23, 2010 4:40 pm ,

I have decided that I am taking this summer off. Off as in offline. Well, mostly.

Mompesson House

I know I’m not the only contemplating this. It feels like a good choice to make. I’ve never really recovered from February’s hospital trip. And I know that’s because I did what I always do, rest impatiently for as short a time as humanly possible and then hit the ground running. I’m so wrapped up in to do lists and plans that I’m not actually accomplishing what I want to. Or what I need to.

Mompesson House

And summer is downtime. Years and years of school taught me that during summer, you play. You relax. You get your energy and verve back from a long grind of studying and exams. Ok, so I haven’t been studying for exams. But I definitely need some verve.

Mompesson House

I found this the other day which really spurred on this decision:

Dear Phoe-at-18,

I know this is the end of something you never really expected to get through. I know you’re going to go off to a college you don’t want to go to and try your best to do what you don’t really want to do. I know you’re both elated and beaten, halfway between giving up and making a break for it. You’re already running yourself ragged, already riding a high of self-sacrifice because that’s all you seem to know how to do. That’s all anyone seems to want you to do. But I’m here to tell you something different.

It is ok to stop. It’s ok to slow down. You will never ever accomplish being everything to everyone, you will never be perfect. You won’t be the perfect daughter, you won’t ever make the right decisions in someone else’s eyes. You won’t gain anything from running life full out, too fast to see what’s going on around you. What you will do is break yourself. What will happen if you don’t stop is that in less than 10 years time, you will be disabled. You will have driven your mind and body past the breaking point. And you will break.

There is no blame here, it was coming sooner or later. You’re a survivor, always have been. You’ll make it through this just as you’ll make it through every catastrophe you thought you’d never make it through. It’s going to happen regardless. What I want to do is let you know. Prepare you. Dance until dawn. Watch sunrise on the beach, swim. Breathe deep as you walk in the fresh air, let your vitality carry you through your life with joy. One day it will be buried under a mountain of pain and then you’ll wish you could tell yourself ten years ago to slow down. You are only 18 once. You are still whole and healthy, no matter what anyone tries to say to make you forget that. You are still strong and able. You are still about to take your place in a larger sphere of things. In less than ten years, your sphere will be reduced to a single room and a life seen through a computer screen because you are too unwell to walk down the stairs and out of the house to take part in a real life. This *is* your life. This is all you’re going to get.

You’ll be happy, you’ll be married to a wonderful man. You’ll find things within yourself you thought you’d lost forever, you will remember who you used to be, who you wanted to grow up to be. You will become a person that you can be proud of, regardless of all the markers you never met. You won’t have finished your degree. You won’t have a job on the corporate ladder, you won’t find importance in material things. But you will write. You will live your life as best as you can and more authentically than you ever thought possible. You will love deeply. And you will be loved deeply in return, for who you are, imperfections and all. You will find your body has not betrayed you, but that the damage was done so long ago that all you could do when you were 18 was dance a bit longer, run a bit farther. Take joy in the physical things you can do, the long days you spent working in the bright sunshine, the long walks in the fresh air. They won’t last. And in ten year’s time, you’ll be left with those memories and the pang of regret that you didn’t do more because you didn’t know it wasn’t going to last forever.

I don’t want to have to write a Dear-Phoe-at-32 letter in which I tell myself the exact same bloody thing. It’s time I learned, I think.

Wisteria

I’m laying down some rules for myself but I expect I’ll break them. Rigidity is the opposite of what I want to be doing but I do have some things I’d like to follow. No Facebook. Ravelry for updating projects and keeping up with when knitting group meetings are but no friend activity. Blog only when I feel like I’ve got something to say or share, no more weekly things as routine. Flickr’s about the only thing that won’t have rules attached. Oh, and I’ll still be around via email so if you don’t see me for a bit, those are the two places to find me. (Links to both of those can be found on the sidebar.)

Salisbury Cathedral

I hope to come back to online life a better, healthier, happier me. A me where the external matches more with the internal. A me that comes from a place more like this as opposed to one of fear and pain. I know what I want. I’m not quite sure how to get there but I’m going to give it a shot. Better than letting these bad patterns get deeper and deeper.

365.14: Salisbury Cathedral

Have a great summer vacation.

Pictures from Mompesson House and Salisbury Cathedral.

Posted in: admin, day tripping, life = whirlwind, photography, reality