750 Words

So I read about this site, 750 Words, on another blog a few days ago and I was intrigued by the concept. It's basically a website where you can register and it gives you a blank page on which to write at least 750 words a day - which is either a hell of a lot or very little, depending on what your feelings at the time are. Or maybe that's just me. Anyway, as far as I can tell, the idea is to just write what comes to mind and see where it takes you. Unlike a blog, it's completely private, so it's not as if others can see your ramblings either, which is pretty freeing when it comes to choosing what to write about. I joined for a couple of reasons 1) because I really do enjoy writing but am very bad at motivating myself to do most things, no matter how much I enjoy them, and 2) because I have been doing pretty much a version of this for a while now by writing myself emails.

750 words has some major advantages over the email thing. It keeps stats, for one thing, and I am obsessed with stats. Obsessed! In fact I'm toying with the idea of removing the stat counter from my blog because I spend more time analysing who has and hasn't read it than I do actually writing it. And maybe it's the old Luddite in me, but I still find it amazing that they can do things like tell you exactly where someone who's clicked a certain page lives. It's simultaneously amazing and a little creepy. The 750 words stats are different, though. They not only tell you the number of words you've written, they also tell you how long you took to write them and how many words you wrote per minute. They tell you how long your breaks were and they even have some fancy program that analyses your mood while you were writing. While that bit sometimes varies in its accuracy, I do find the results very interesting and it gives me something different to obsess over, which is great. Anyway, the most amazing thing about this site is that it works - I've only been doing it for a few days, but already I feel more inspired to write than I have in a long, long time. Perhaps it's the freedom of writing whatever I like, or the incentive of a goal to reach. One big advantage over emails is that I'm much less likely to fall into the self-pitying woe-is-me stuff. It may be hard to believe, but I'm even more whiny when no one else can hear me. On here though, I feel like I need to write something more. Something...I don't know...better.

So far I think it's kind of ingenious. I'm sure I won't always be this keen, and I'm bound to miss some days, but I have already found myself making a mental note of things that happen during the day that I can write about. It even sends me a reminder email each day, so I can't tell myself I "forgot". And since I'm writing this on 750 words (I'll copy and paste into the blog when I'm done) I can keep up my daily writing and still occasionally write a blog. At the same time! There's even a challenge where you register at the beginning of each month and pledge to write every day. I'm still considering whether I'm game for April, but I think I might just do it. I literally have nothing to lose, and who knows, I may even manage to write something worthwhile. I mean, it's not likely, but you never know. And if I fail then eh, it's not like I haven't failed at just about everything before. I do have to remind myself that if I run out of anything else to write I can just type 750 swear words. Which would be kind of awesome, actually. Not that I know 750 different swear words (yet), but I don't mind doubling up on a few. Maybe that could be my own little challenge for the month.

My favourite part though, is the last 50 words. I'm always a little nervous about whether or not I'm going to make it, and I love watching the word count creep up as I type. In the end I'm left with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, which is not something I feel very often. It's been worthwhile just for that.

The Joy of Misery

I like to think of myself as a fairly miserable person. And I do mean “like”. I enjoy complaining. It's fun. It gets the stupid, petty annoyances out of my head so I can let them go before they become bigger, more serious annoyances. It's not that I don't like being happy, that would be ridiculous. It's just...I don't know, I'm happier when I'm not so happy, if that makes sense. I think it's at least partly because whenever I allow myself to think things are going well, something almost always happens to prove me wrong. Why waste precious optimism only to be disappointed? And I like my pessimistic perspective, it means I can always be pleasantly surprised when things do go well, which they actually do occasionally. I guess it's a survival instinct, and after trying to fight it for a long time, I have come to like being a miserable cow.

There's a certain joy to misery that the outwardly cheerful don't seem to get. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the happy people, I really do. I would even go so far as to say I envy their positive outlook. But I can't deny that I do get pleasure from complaining and ranting; a good rant can be wonderfully cathartic! And I appreciate other people's rants, too. I get it. I understand the need to just let it out, and I'm happy to be the audience they're looking for. Surely we all just want to be heard, don't we? I kind of wish more people got the need to rant, actually. And I do get tired of the hearing the “perspective” lecture, even when it's not aimed at me. I have perspective, as I'm sure most people do. I know I am luckier than most, particularly in light of the tragic suffering and loss that's been going on recently. Complaining doesn't lessen my appreciation for what I have, or take away from the suffering of others. It's just nice to have someone listen and sympathise occasionally, no matter how petty or trivial those complaints might be. It's not about the level of importance, it's just about what's bugging me right now. Let me have my rant and I'll be done. There are very few things more frustrating than feeling dismissed because your problems aren't deemed “big” or worthy enough. Which is why there's so much joy in being around others of a similar disposition, particularly when they share the excitement of starting a sentence with “Do you know what I hate?” Yes! Bring on the ranting!

I realise that my love of misery might make me seem kind of odd, but you know what? I don't care. Okay. I do care. It's hard to give up wanting to be liked, but I am working on caring a little less, anyway. It's part of my new policy to embrace my misery. Ironically, I think mastering that will actually make me happier. Although then I'd have less to complain about. Damn it! I haven't thought this through, have I? I'm going to have to give this a lot more thought...which will almost certainly lead to me over thinking it and that always makes me miserable. Awesome!

Pay Attention to Me! Or don't. That's fine.

So. I haven’t been here for a while, but I’ve been feeling the urge to write something lately so here I am, although I’m not entirely sure what to write about anymore. I’ve covered most of my faults, or at least the ones I’m willing to talk about publicly, so what else is there? I guess I could do a diet update, but even I’m not particularly interested in that, so I’d hardly expect anyone else to be. I miss writing regularly, but I think having a break from it has been a good thing. I'm not sure that many people write or read blogs much anymore, do they? I know I don’t read as many as I used to, so maybe it’s just a bit old school in these days of Twittering and Facebook updating.

I’ve always struggled with the attention seeking aspects of blog writing, anyway. I normally avoid undue attention as much as possible and, if asked, I would say I hate being the centre of attention. But I realise that this isn’t entirely true. I want to be noticed as much as the next person; I’m just very quiet and unassuming about it. It’s more a case of I quite like being on the outskirts of attention, just not right smack in the centre of it. I want to be noticed without me having to draw attention to myself, if that makes sense, which admittedly hardly ever works. And we all go searching for attention in our own ways, don’t we? It’s just that I have a very odd relationship with it. On the one hand I like and need it, obviously, but on the other I don’t assume that all attention is going to be good. In fact, in my mind, the more I put myself out there the more likely it is that someone is going to come along and say something less than positive. How awful would that be?! Of course this has never happened, but don’t doubt the ability of a dyed-in-the-wool pessimist like myself to assume the worst. In fact, blog-wise, all I’ve ever gotten was lovely, like-minded people saying kind and supportive things, so it is an entirely irrational and unfounded fear, but I wouldn't let that stop me. Mostly I just feel like I’m having a constant “Pay attention to me! Don’t look at me! Why aren’t they looking at me?!” conversation with myself. It can be exhausting inside my head; I really must get out of it more often.

Anyway, on the positive side, hardly anyone reads this anymore, which in theory should make me feel less self-conscious about it, but it doesn’t seem to work that way. I now know there may be something worse than getting negative attention – not getting any attention at all. So all this boils down to me, here, writing a blog about writing blogs in an effort to get some sort of attention (hey, it turns out I do have more faults to write about. Awesome.) Not so much ironic as it is pathetic, really. I imagine you feel the much the same way having read right to the end, huh? Sorry about that, but thanks for paying attention.

Where's My F***ing Cake?! Part 3: Danger, Will Robinson!

So, after a fairly “easy” start, I’ve finally stumbled quite spectacularly into the danger zone. That’s the point in every weight loss attempt when I start to feel restless and coveting all that awesome food that I’ve been very virtuous about ignoring up until now. Ironically, it usually coincides with the first signs that the deprivation is actually working. My clothes feel looser, I have more energy, people start to notice that I look “different” in some vague way etc. All these should be good things, which they are, but it’s the people noticing that I struggle with the most. I’ve always had trouble accepting the inevitable “you look so good now” comments that come along with weight loss. I am not disagreeing that fat is ugly, and anyone overweight is going to look better when there’s less of them, but I do struggle with the feeling that no matter what else happens, you’re always going to be more “acceptable” if you’re thin than if you’re fat. Maybe that’s unfair of me, in fact I’m sure it is, but it’s hard to break that mindset. And yeah, I get that it is entirely my issue and people are actually being kind when they comment, but unfortunately a lifetime of dieting has kind of warped my mind when it comes to these things. Anyway, this time around the very mild physical changes also coincided with a sudden influx of online articles about the evils of fat people. Okay, they weren’t really about that, they were mostly about some woman who wrote a blog on the Marie Claire website about how she hates fat people and they’re all disgusting blah blah blah. This apparently created a shit storm amongst Marie Claire readers who were appalled and offended by the article, which in turn spawned a whole lot of other articles about the reaction to the original one. Now the issue for me was not the original article because I don’t read Marie Claire and I wouldn’t have known it existed if it wasn’t for the resulting brouhaha. It wasn’t even about the articles written about the readers reactions or the writer’s inevitable apology. The unfortunate thing for me is my compulsion to read the comments on the follow-up articles which, not surprisingly, mostly consisted of people saying they agree with the original writer and embellishing on the idea that fat people should be shot at birth. Or, you know, words to that affect. Yes, I know I shouldn’t take it personally, and it certainly doesn’t matter what complete strangers on the internet think, but it didn’t help when I was already feeling bad about eating more than I should anyway. And it’s always depressing to be reminded that so many people suck, even when it has nothing at all to do with me. Of course the inevitable irony of feeling bad about my weight is that it only makes me want to eat more. Which I did. And not in that good, 'I’m enjoying my meal so I just don’t care' kind of way. So yeah, all of that is a long-winded way of saying that I’ve been kind of crap at the dieting lately. Although it’s also an odd sort of relief because it was all a bit too easy for a while there, so at least this feels more normal. Oh, and I did get to have some awesome cake before the guilt set in, so that was a bonus.

Happily Unsociable

I have recently uncovered the key to living with social ineptitude that could have saved me countless painful evenings in the company of near-strangers: Just. Say. No. It’s so simple yet so effective; I’m almost embarrassed to admit I haven’t tried it earlier. I stumbled upon this amazing technique when I decided I'd had enough of trying to force myself into being something I’m not (social, entertaining, interesting etc.) so I just wasn't going to bother anymore. It took some practice, and a few false starts, but I'm now quite adept at it. One of the key elements, I’ve discovered, is to offer no excuse. Saying “I’m busy” or “I have something else on” just invites polite questions about the obviously fabulous social event that’s keeping you from this one. A smile and a mildly disappointed look while saying “I’m sorry, I can’t make it” is all that’s required. And the best part is that nine times out of ten no one asks why. Perhaps they don’t ask because they don’t really care if I’m there or not, which is a win-win in my book. Most often I think they don’t ask because it’s assumed the only reason you’d turn down any social invitation is because you had something else to do, which is actually kind of true. They just don’t need to know that the something else is staying home with a good book rather than subjecting myself (and others) to the horror of my attempted socialising. On the very rare occasions that they do ask I’ve taken the boldly honest approach of admitting that I'm just not keen on parties, which most people seem to accept as a valid excuse, at least to my face.

Now I’m kicking myself for all those years of going along to things when I really didn't want to, or thinking up excuses and then feeling guilty about them. Don’t get me wrong, I do very much enjoy going out and spending time with my friends and family, and I even enjoy meeting new people, I just don't enjoy the big party or group dinner with people I don’t know – or worse, with people I do know, but don’t have anything much in common with. It’s not personal, I’m sure they’re all very lovely and interesting people, but I’ve never been capable of small talk and getting-to-know-you conversation, and I just can’t be arsed feeling guilty about it anymore. And while I appreciate the kindness and attempted inclusiveness, most of the time I really am happy to be “left out.” I do think a lot of it comes down to age; it’s so much easier being a dull homebody in my 40s than it ever was in my 20s. It’s a myth that all young people like going out, partying, getting drunk etc. I never did. Of course I do wish I could look back fondly on a wild and crazy youth, but I've never been inclined to do anything particularly wild or crazy, even then. I imagine that to some, much more sociable people, the idea of always choosing a quiet night in over a “fun” party is unthinkable, possibly even a little sad, and maybe they’re right. The main difference now is that I don't much care what people think anymore. Middle age is kind of awesome like that.

Where's My F***ing Cake?! Part 2: Dazed and Confused.

So it’s been a few weeks since I entered the sucky, deprivation filled world of dieting and the bad mood should really be kicking in about now, but so far it hasn’t surfaced. Normally by this stage I’d start daydreaming about food cartoon-style - streetlamps look like ice cream cones, people’s heads look like giant donuts etc. I should be imagining everything tastes better than the drab food I have to eat and racing through the chocolate aisle at the supermarket trying to avoid eye contact with the Lindor balls, but it just isn’t happening this time around, and it's kind of freaking me out! I am making sure I get a small treat most days, and I have given myself permission to enjoy anything I like in restaurants since I don’t eat out all that often anyway, so I’m not completely deprived. But mostly I think having a good reason (other than to be smaller) to keep at it has made the biggest difference. Motivation appears to work for me, who knew? It’s quite the revelation. I do still expect the bad times to kick in sooner rather than later, but that might just be my innate pessimism talking.

I have done some things differently this time around to give myself the maximum opportunity to succeed; I've told people, for one. Not everyone, and only if it comes up in general conversation, but I have actually said it out loud several times. Most people are supportive, encouraging and sympathetic, even the ones who haven't had to deal with a weight problem themselves. Telling people is always a double-edged sword, however. While on the one hand it makes it easier to turn down food being offered without making it a big deal, on the other I also have to deal with those people who take it upon themselves to "help" me. You know the ones, watching everything that goes into your mouth, making little comments like "are you allowed to have that?" and "aren't you on a diet?" I know they're trying to be helpful but you know what? It doesn't help. Not even a little bit. I am more than capable of feeling guilty all by myself, thanks. To be fair, these are generally the people that don't know me very well, because if they did they'd know it’s not going to be appreciated. I know they mean well and they think they’re helping me stay on the straight and narrow but, and I say this with all the kindness and understanding in the world, they really need to shut the fuck up. No one wants to feel judged and criticised, especially about something that they judge and criticise themselves for every day.

I’ve also just not been so hard on myself when things do go awry. Of course there has been the occasional bump in the road and cravings that just had to be satisfied, but I have avoided falling into a pit of despair because of it, which is a major hurdle in itself. I do guilt so well, and never as efficiently as when I’m making myself feel bad about something inconsequential. And I miss cake. A lot. While I can be satisfied with a comparatively small amount of chocolate, I can’t just have a little bit of cake, and I don’t want to waste my cake eating on something less than awesome anyway, so I’m holding out until a slice of something really luscious crosses my path, then I’m going to savour every bite - and not feel guilty about it! I just hope some well-meaning do-gooder doesn’t try to come between me and my moderately consumed guilt-free cake, or there will be tears. Almost certainly mine.

The Other Diet

I read something the other day about going on a "shopping diet" where you stop spending money on anything other than the bare necessities. Turns out I've been on that one for a while, and it's a much more successful diet than the other, infinitely more sucky one where I give up eating all the lovely, delicious things that I enjoy so much. I inadvertently started shopping dieting a couple of months ago when I got a letter from Telstra telling me they were cutting the cost of my monthly internet access by $50. That’s right, they’re actually charging me less. I know, I couldn’t believe it either! So now I had an extra $50 a month to put towards my very slow growing holiday savings fund. It got me thinking about how I could save more money and, much like the other kind of diet, I knew I had to take a good look at my spending habits if I was going to make some real changes. First off I placed an embargo on all book and DVD purchases until further notice. Now normally I would consider these items crucially important to my day to day happiness, however working in a library should mean never having to buy a book or DVD, so I really had no excuse other than wanting something and wanting it now rather than waiting my turn. This one is easy to keep because I still feel a very strong sense of shame when I see the piles of unread books I’ve bought over the last couple of years that I so desperately had to have at the time. I also have a healthy collection of DVDs still wrapped in plastic. This is the reason I actively avoid JB HiFi stores, I'm a sucker of those "buy me I'm cheap" stickers. I will, however, never skimp on music. That’s a different thing entirely. I’ll always buy a CD or pay for a download of something I really want because, unlike the books and DVDs, I know I'll actually listen to it.

It was much harder to give up the things that seem fairly small on their own, but add up to a lot of wasted money in the long run. The occasional pair of earrings or a new lipstick. Magazines I skim through but never really read. Impulsive “no reason” presents for my niece or nephew. Even seemingly useful things like plastic containers (one of my major vices) are superfluous when I already have a kitchen cupboard full of them. And of course actual food dieting also helps since (in theory, anyway) I won't be buying all those lovely treats that I usually can't resist. I’ve had to re-evaluate the shopping habits of a lifetime, and the weird part is, after the initial feelings of deprivation, it turns out I don’t actually mind all that much. Maybe it’s middle age or maybe I’ve finally just learned to be sensible, but my shopping diet is nowhere near as painful as the other diet. I still miss the shopping buzz, that tiny moment of joy I’d get from buying something pretty but ultimately unnecessary, but I don’t actually miss the excess stuff. Occasionally I have to fight the desire for instant gratification to avoid paying full price for something that I know I can get cheaper elsewhere, or at least force myself to wait a few weeks until the same thing is on sale. And I can't quite bring myself to be as frugal as I'd really like to be, but I'm a lot closer than I was. I've even unsubscribed from most of my shopping emails so I won't be tempted by apparent "bargains" that really aren't. I feel smug when I don’t spend money that I could have spent, and I even get a small buzz from watching my savings increase. Now, if I could just transfer that feeling of smug satisfaction to food deprivation and weight loss I’d be laughing. Unfortunately, while I will hopefully have some temporary success in that area, I think chocolate will always win the final battle, especially if it’s on sale.