Advent Arrives

Today, I have a dry and scaly lizard hand. 

It's a Monday! It's the beginning of the month! It's the start of Advent! So many time-markers I wanted all my good habits to start at once and yet it's half-ten and I feel like I've failed the fresh start.

I will do more cardio! Yoga keeps you happy and relaxed and stretched but it doesn't make you sweat, it doesn't make you fit. I don't need to lose weight, but I would like to feel like my heart is healthy.

I will read more books! November was going to be my month of reading. When I hear about people who have less spare time than me read nine or ten books a month, and I've barely managed that in the past 9 or 10 months, something's got to change.

I will go to bed on time! Stay off screens and sleep at a sensible hour. I will start work on time! Having eaten breakfast and drank something before doing so. 

I will write more! Do more! Think more! Be more! Be happy. 

I will make more people happy. Last week, I sent a cheer-up package of small things; I like sending post almost as much as receiving it. Christmas is a time to spread the love and the joy and I love that about it. 

I also love festive flavoured coffees. Mostly too sweet, but some just hit the spot and they all smell so good. I had a praline cappuccino today whilst pondering plans for presents. A lovely lunch.

So, maybe I chose Chinese over cardio and screen over book. It's almost quarter-to eleven and I'm not in bed so that's another strike. But I have sorted something special for someone special and that makes the day worthwhile, right? 

Flitterbox: Jimmy Durante - Make Someone Happy

Virtually Friends

Today, I have commented. 

I feel strange remarking on the social media-made statements of friends with whom I used to go to school, because we no longer speak. I know she got married, I know she's expecting a baby, I know where she lives. But we don't chat, we weren't even close at school, we had a few lessons together, a few mutual friends but not much more than that. So to comment on something that she has said seems like I'm annoucing my presence in her life again...we're 'friends', we are vaguely aware that we 'follow' each others words and pictures, but to publicly acknowledge it? That's weird. 

Yet when it comes to commenting on blogs of people I don't know, have never met, have only clicked on through something else, I have no problem saying - "that's cool!" showing my gratitude or just agreeing with their views on a subject. I mostly lurk, so sometimes I do feel a bit funny commenting as if I know the person when the only information they may have about me is my IP address. But I still do it, under the cover of the internet anonymity blanket, where despite how easy it is to know almost everything about someone just through reading and searching, it is also so easy to know them for so long without knowing much at all. 

It's a month until Christmas.

Flitterbox: Walk Off The Earth + Julia Nunes ~ Some Nights
Flitterbook: The Year I Met You ~ Cecelia Ahern 

Thought Train

It's five to six and I lithely leap onto the train with seven minutes to spare. The carriage is otherwise bare, save a lean, long-haired twentysomething male, socks pulled up, hunched over a bunch of paper containing incomprehensible scribbles of various symbols and graphs. A physics postgrad, I guess, probably bound for the same town as I.

I dump my bags on a warm, sun-heated seat and slump down next to them with a sigh. I allow my gaze to wander to the opposite platform. It's fairly busy and full of the usual suspects; I scan the crowds, looking for something worth watching. Observing people is one of my preferred ways to pass time whilst waiting. Nothing much new to see, generally, although this time, someone in particular catches my eye. A guy.

Do I know him...? The blood rushes to my cheeks as I realise that yes, yes, I do indeed recognise that face. I marvel at the coincidence: that I should be here; that he should be there! Except it's not really that much of a small world and if I'm honest, the idea of a fleeting glance such as this occurring crosses my mind every time I pass through this place.

And now that it has, what do I do?

It's 17.58 and with only four minutes before the train leaves, I don't have much time to think twice. I stand up in haste, gather my bags and I'm out of the doors. Ponytailed Physicist doesn't even flinch.

As I hurry up the stairs to the other platform, I have a million questions rushing through my head, most of which are entirely unhelpful and unrelated to the present situation but a scarce few could be useful, if only I had some answers to follow them. What do I do once I get there? What do I say? How would I even begin? I don't know, I'm not sure and sometimes the only way to get things done is to stop thinking and just do. Before I know it, I'm on the platform and there's a train there and it's ready to leave. My eyes dart erratically across the length of the vehicle and I spy the back of a head that looks almost like someone I nearly knew once. He's looking out  towards the opposite platform, where there's a train setting off, to a parallel carriage that holds a single passenger - a long-haired student, hunched over a paper, highlighter in hand. I am not there; he does not see me, and somewhere nearby, a whistle is blown. 

The train departs and I make my way back up the stairs and across to my platform. The 18.02 left On Time and it's now a forty-seven minute wait for the next one. The area is completely bare, save a curly-haired girl, laden with luggage. I dump my bags on the cool concrete and crouch down next to them on the ground. I rest my chin on my knees and I wonder...what would I have said?

Flitterbox: Bright Eyes ~ Another Travelin' Song
Flitterbook: The Year I Met You ~ Cecelia Ahern

Hollandaise Holidays

Today, I have put on my winter slippers.

Amsterdam was wonderful. It was like stepping out into a sunny film set every day, a scene manufactured to look like a quaint European city, except this was no Disneyland, this was real-life. The flowing canals with open-top boats chugging along in the afternoon sun, the cyclists trundling merrily across the cobbled streets on their way to work or play. We were so lucky with the weather, like summer had chosen to stay on longer, especially for our September break, and only now can it fall into Autumn.

Cheese tasting came highly recommended and didn't disappoint. My experience may have been influenced by the tall, blonde, fluent-in-three-languages Californian man who led the session, but it was also good value and felt authentically Dutch (apart from the American staff member...). It was interesting to learn about cheese-making and keeping and tastes and smells and consistency and differences, so yummy. I also learnt how to pronounce Gouda ("kHow-da") and damn, the wine was good.

From wine tasting to free wine at Boom Chicago. Comedy was not something I'd considered before arrival in the city, but we were urged to go by a representative whilst waiting in a queue for Anne Frank House, and it was better than I expected. The improv scenes and general set-up of the show were unlike anything I'd seen on stage before. It was quirky, funny and unusual; a great way to spend a couple of hours in the evening.

It was such a relaxing trip, we didn't rush about at all. We meandered, wandering back and forth along the canals, eating gelato or sitting in the park, soaking up the sun, the atmosphere and architecture; catching some street entertainment; practising yoga poses on the plein; browsing in a kitsch shop on a side alley. Amsterdam is a place to which I'd be happy to return, to live or to visit. The people were friendly and accommodating, the food was delicious and the whole place just felt cosy and comfortable. Gezelligheid.

Flitterbox:  Charlie XCX ~ Boom Clap

Flitterbook: The Road to Rouen ~ Ben Hatch 

September Spending

Today, I have been spending more in order to avoid delivery costs.

With September comes the panic-buying of knitwear to see me through the turn in the weather. I bought two cardigans of the same design in different colours (navy and purple) and then another jumper-type item and underwear, to push my order over the free delivery threshold. I don't like the top that much when tried on, yet can't be bothered to take it back, so essentially I paid £7 for delivery plus free knickers.

I bought a book for a fiver from here partly because someone told me to and partly because it was limted-time free delivery. It looks like it has some good tips, but I imagine it might sit on my shelf for a long while before I make use of any information contained within. I feel just owning it makes me seem like more of a functioning adult though.

I bought a backpack for city trekking and then a CD for a fiver, for the same delivery-charge avoidance reason. Also because I'm too lazy to make my own compilation for the car or work out how to connect miPod. Plus, the album art is pretty. Yes, I judged a CD by its cover.

To add to that, I have a few days away, full of meals out; museum visits; boat tours; travel tickets; wine-tasting, and the rest. September spending is yet to be curbed...

Flitterbox: Jessie J ~ Price Tag
Flitterbook: Road to Rouen ~ Ben Hatch

Forever Lost

Today, I have felt conflicted.

I want to read more. I want to watch more shows, dramas, series, films. I want to blog more; write more; say more. I want to say less; do more. I want to get out more; I prefer staying in. I want to craft more; creative pursuits frustrate my perfectionist nature.

I want a new job; I couldn't ask for better benefits. I want more money; I have plenty to live on. I want to drink more alcohol; but why? I want to drink less alcohol; but I hardly do already. I want to consume less dairy; for the cows. But what is pasta without cheese? What is tea without milk?

Tea with an alternative milk is a coagulating nightmare.  It doesn't mushroom up to the top when you pour into the cup; it drops, densely to the bottom, like it doesn't belong. It has a life of its own, it is lava bubbling up to the surface, constantly shifting, changing, moving. It tastes okay; I could get used to it.

I want to feel settled. But I've been told that in my twenties it's perfectly normal not to be so.

Flitterbox: Crowded House ~ Weather With You
Flitterbook: We Were Liars ~ E. Lockhart

Home/Work

Today, I have no homework. 

My work screen and self switches off at the end of my contracted hours. I do not think about work outside of work. Not in a way in which I have to force myself to leave it at the desk, but in the sense that my work is very literally a strict shift, 5 days a week. I don't do overtime; I don't do study; I don't spend time 'on the road'. In that way, it is wonderful.

Of course there are drawbacks. Non-stimulating work can be dull, you don't feel like you're really making a difference. When there's no progression in the role, it opens up the suggestion that you should search for an alternative vocation. It can, over a longer period of time, be unfulfilling. 

But, no homework. My peers cry, they stress, they don't eat, or go out, or socialise with their friends and much of the time, they don't even enjoy their jobs. They wake up at 6am; they travel in an hour of traffic; they don't get home 'til gone 7pm and then it's dinner, TV, bed - and for what? More money? Better job satisfaction? Pride in yourself and your abilities? One friend was complaining to me about not getting *quite* as high a pay-rise as she was expecting from her last set of exams. Understandable that you want to feel like your salary is competitive within your industry, but ultimately - what difference does it make, is money the main reason you're staying in that job? I honestly can't comprehend the idea that more money is worth the amount of stress some people put themselves under, when you already have enough to live a life others would be envious of - it's crazy. Maybe I'm just lazy. 

It's back-to-school and this is the year I have felt furthest removed from it all. Younger relatives have become graduates, friends have become doctors and aside from slight lust for an owl pencil-case in WHSmith, I have barely felt the back-to-books fever that usually surrounds the start of the academic year. It's kind of weird that I don't have that marker anymore.

So sometimes, when I'm contemplating where my job, my career, my salary is, five years after I started my masters, I look back. I stand back, I think of all those questions, those essays, those tests that I don't have to do any more and I think how glorious it is to not have to go back to school this September.

Instead, I'm going to Amsterdam.

Flitterbox: George Ezra ~ Budapest

Flitterbook: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves ~ Karen Joy Fowler