Moving

I have started so many blog posts this week, and the result has been many unfiltered ideas that haven’t quite organised themselves enough to share.  Now it is the end of the week and I have to post something as I know that tomorrow I will go MIA for a couple of weeks – that is, missing from the internet.

Tomorrow I am moving.  If it seems a bit sudden, it’s because in a way it is (I mean, I have known for a few weeks, but nothing was set in stone so I didn’t really want to talk about it).  Despite the suddenness, I am looking forward to moving and finally having my own space (and my own kitchen!), and am definitely feeling hopeful for the future.

The downsides are the actual moving process, and the fact that I can’t get a landline installed until June, so will have to cope without the internet until then.  I know that in reality this won’t really bother me, as I am quite content to read, write, unpack, rest, cook, watch DVDs, play games etc, but I do not like knowing that I will be practically cut off from my ‘social life’ (yes, the internet is my main social scene), as well as just everything I do every day.

Basically, the point of this post is to tell you not to worry. You won’t be hearing from me for a few weeks, but it isn’t because I don’t want to share with you, or that I am too ill to; it simply is a logistical problem that happens when moving.

So until I am ‘back’, have a good time, eat plenty of chocolate, and keep believing in yourself because you are awesome.

Tired of Dreaming

Dreams are wonderful – they give me hope for a better life, an optimism to get through the day, a feeling of power in my potential.  But dreams are not enough, they can only get me so far.

And yet I find I’m still procrastinating.  I’m still thinking about my dreams, rather than living them. 

I don’t know how to get myself out of this funk of waiting for something to happen that will make living my dreams possible.  I know that if I keep waiting, I will forever be only waiting, and I want more, so, so much more than that.

So I’m asking you, how do I stop simply waiting for my dreams and start chasing them?  I want to hear your stories and any nuggets of wisdom you can share to get me to stop procrastinating so I can deliver all the amazingness I know I have inside of me.

I am tired of being scared.

I am tired of feeling lost.

I am tired of simply dreaming.

Clangers and Doughnuts: Memories That Have Made Me

If you know me, you probably know that I can be a little (or a lot) competitive.  I can't help it, I'm wired to be a perfectionist and to give my everything - it's something I am learning how to control.

Anyway, in my first year of High School, I had a teacher (actually I had him all through High School and Sixth Form but that's not the point) who, in his first class, brought out that competitiveness in me with a simple declaration "You're all stupid." Okay, that sounds pretty harsh, but he went on to basically challenge us to prove him wrong - something I continued to try to do in every class I had with him for the next 7 years.

It seems like such a small thing but it's one of my main memories of High School in general, and I would go on to tell you that he was, by far, my favourite teacher.  For those of you who are curious, he was the R.E. teacher, but I don't remember his name (though I know what he looks like and where he lives...).

In Sixth Form he took his challenges to the next level and I have always been proud to say that twice I managed to beat him at it.  The first time was when he was talking about The Incredibles - he was using it to explain the theory that there can't be a God (which this blog is not about) due to the idea of parallel universes.  I hadn't seen the film, but ended up quoting it to make his point (he was a little upset that he didn't get to say it).  The other time is debatable; obviously I am going to say I believe I was right, if you asked him he might not agree.  The question was basically - what's the point of a doughnut?  I'm not going to give my answer here as I'll leave it up to you to decide.  He said he saw a flaw in my answer, but he never gave a reason why; which is why I'm fairly certain that I beat him at his own game, even if it was only once.

He wasn't the only teacher to ever have an effect on me and my life; but he is the one I remember most vividly.  He had a whole new way of seeing the world and how he taught (I didn't get to the do the lesson on The Clangers, but I don't know any other teacher who would have even considered using that show).  I improved my debating skills (beyond our dinner table) and my essay writing in his classes - writing an essay about how not to write an essay was possibly one of my least favourite homework assignments, though possibly one of his easiest.  Most importantly I grew my self-confidence and belief in myself through his classes.  I don't think he was the only reason but I am willing to stand up and say that he had a huge part in it.

Do you remember your favourite teacher from school?  What was it about them that makes you remember them?

(Sidenote - I nearly didn't use this title as a 'Clanger' is also something that is a food item that is specific to where I live, as I discovered in my first year of Uni, but it sounded too good to give up.)

Relieving the Burden of 'Stuff'

My whole life I have been surrounded by ‘stuff’.  My kryptonite is books, but I am a hoarder and so have plenty of knick-knacks, craft supplies, pens and notebooks and things I collect.  As I was growing up I had hundreds of books on my shelf (many of which are still sitting on my bookcase in my old room) and I wasn’t the only one. Every room in our house houses books, and at least two of them hold my dad’s C.D. collection (which was well into the thousands last time I checked).  This accumulation of stuff was just part of the scenery; I didn’t realise just how much I had until I moved out.

During my first year at university I only had a tiny room to house my life and so the majority stayed back with my parents.  In my second and third years I had slightly more space and storage options in the house I lived in with ‘friends’.

It wasn’t until I moved in with Chris about 2 years ago, that I finally figured out why I was still surrounded by ‘stuff’. (I should probably mention here that Chris is by far the greatest minimalist I’ve ever known which is probably why I started re-evaluating.)  I knew I wanted to cut down, but I found it increasingly difficult to get rid of anything (like I said, I have always been a hoarder), until I realised that I was evaluating myself by my stuff.  I didn’t want to get rid of anything as everything symbolized something about who I am or who I used to be.

It wasn’t until this breakthrough that I finally understood what was holding me back.  I had made my stuff crucial to my identity and so I didn’t want to lose the physical manifestations of my identity. Understanding this, I finally started to accept that my stuff is not me.  Yes, a lot of it does represent who I am, but not all of it is necessary in my life. I was feeling stressed and burdened by the physical clutter around me.  Since my ‘breakthrough’ my mindset started to change and I knew that I need the space (physical and mental) to make way for who I am becoming, which has allowed me to start relieving myself of the ‘stuff’.

I am not a minimalist. I don’t plan on becoming a minimalist.  I expect I will always have quite a bit of stuff (this is a natural result of being into many crafts and wanting to try so many different things).  But over the past year, I have cut down my stuff by about half (that’s a very rough estimation).  I know that I still have a long way to go – packing to move last time and having to decide what to ‘store’ at my parent’s and what to bring with me definitely proved that – but I am looking forward to the journey that not feeling tied down will give me the chance to live.

If you are on a similar path of decluttering and reclaiming your space, you might enjoy reading Rachel’s blog ‘The Minimalist Mom’.  And of course, share your experiences in the comments.

A Mother's Love: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am. 
 I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

When my Mum was pregnant with my baby brother (who is now 5), she and I went to see my sister in a class performance.  My sister was taking Theatre Studies and, from what I remember, the piece was something that had been created by the students. What I remember most is what happened afterwards. 

Most people had left, or were in the process of leaving, and my Mum and I were still seated as neither of us felt able to move before we had to.  Suddenly my sister had a panic attack.  I’ve never known the reason, and I’ve never asked – it’s not important.  All I remember is that my Mum, who had been walking with crutches due to the pregnancy, leaped over the chairs in front of us to get to her. 

This has been one of those memories that has stuck fast due to what I learned that day.  A Mother’s love is incredible and amazing.  I never really understood before the tie between a mother and child (and perhaps I’ll never truly understand as I’m not aiming to have children), but the moment it happened, I was struck with the knowledge and understanding of just how strong a Mother’s love can be.

Choosing My Needs

750 words is a website that effectively lets you write your 'morning pages' online and then analyses them.  I don't really pay much attention to the analysis side of things, but I do like that it keeps track of how many days in a row I have managed to write something.  Last week I crossed the hundred day streak with writing my 750 words.

Unfortunately this site has to become membership only for a time due to lack of funds.  If you had told me a couple of months ago that I would happily shell out $5 a month (it isn't a lot but when money is tight you have to count every penny) for a service that I can clearly do by myself I wouldn't have believed you.  But needless to say, that is what I am now doing.

Yes, I could easily open a document each morning and write my 750 words and mark off how many days I have done it - but I know that when it comes down to it, I would be unlikely to actually do it.  The reason is simply that I have realised what a massive difference this site has made on both my writing and my health. 

I used to always use my words to get out all the crap in my head and work out what it was that I wanted to achieve that day.  I still do this sometimes but recently I have started using those words to write blog posts (such as this one) first.  The idea of morning pages is to get out the crap before writing anything important, but I have found that either way is good for me.  If I am feeling like shit emotionally or mentally, forcing myself to write something often helps me become less depressed; knowing that I need to maintain my 'streak' has helped me many times to force myself to sit at the computer and type rubbish for ten to fifteen minutes.  And of course, if I have used the words to write a draft of something like a blog post then I can go through the rest of the day knowing that I've already achieved at least something, even if it never sees the light of day (I have many posts written which are only half thoughts).

That is why I am now happily paying for the service.  I have noticed the difference – no matter how tiny – it has made in my life and I am willing to pay for my emotional and mental health as, to me, it is the most important thing in the world.  I am finally realising that it is okay to choose me, to focus on me and my needs rather than constantly trying to fix everyone else’s. 

Are there any services that helps fulfil your needs?  Let us know in the comments why/why not you pay for them.

The Worst Date: Memories That Have Made Me

So much has happened in my life already, and a lot of those experiences have stayed with me.  They are not all monumentous, nor are they all life changing.  But every single one of them (and the countless more that are buried deep within me) have made me who I am.  

I hope others will join in with me and post their own memories on their blogs (or in the comments).  I will be posting mine every Friday, but it doesn’t matter when you write yours or if you wish to do them fortnightly or monthly – your writing should fit with your schedule.  If you do join I ask that you link to my blog with this link: http://emptythoughtsrewritten.blogspot.co.uk (until I’ve worked out how to create a button for you to display) and that you will link your POST (not just your blog link please) in the comments each week (until I’ve worked out how to make a linky thing for you to add your links to – I’m really not very tech-savvy!).

I met Rik when I was out clubbing in celebration of my 19th birthday.  He was handsome and friendly, and as I had an extra hour to wait for my taxi – my friend had got the times wrong – he waited with me (in full view of busy traffic).  We swapped numbers and it wasn't long before he invited me out for a date.

This was my first (and so far only) experience of 'real' dating (all the other times the dates have come after we were 'official').  He took me to a very fancy restaurant and paid for everything.  He was sweet and thoughtful and good-looking and had a decent job - the perfect man.  Unfortunately not only was the spark missing (or the za-za-zu in Carrie Bradshaw's words), but he was the most boring person I have ever met.

I can't tell you why I found him boring, all I can say is that I figured the best way to get through the date was to get very, very drunk.  Over the course of that night I am sure I drank over two bottles of wine, and wine is the drink my body reacts the most to, I usually get tipsy just from one glass.

After the meal we went to a bar (which is where the second bottle of wine was consumed as well as, possibly, other drinks).  It turned out that a guy who was a friend of a friend, and who I'd had a tonsil match with a few weeks earlier, was also in that bar (everyone can trust a Wetherspoon's).  I have to admit I'm a little fuzzy on the rest of the details.  I am fairly certain that at some point I told this other guy that I wished I was on a date with him instead, I am still hopeful that Rik missed this declaration but I doubt I'll ever know.

When I realised that staying on this date would be a big mistake I rang my mum to come and collect me.  I then had to deal with her yelling at me for leaving her in the cold for twenty minutes. Seeing as it takes fifteen minutes to drive from home to the pub, that's thirty five minutes I seem to have displaced, as, in my mind, I went straight to the car only stopping for a moment to throw up everywhere.  Rik, ever being the gentleman held my hair back and made sure I got to my mum okay.

This wasn't the first time I had got so blindingly drunk, but realising just how bad my binge drinking had got I stopped drinking alcohol at all for the rest of college.  Of course, this meant that when I got to Uni, I had an even lower tolerance for alcohol though I have never been so drunk as to misplace time since (which, seeing as I have been very drunk since then, proves just how drunk I must have been).

So what I learned from this is NEVER drink and date at the same time - well, don't excessively drink anyway!  Do you have an embarrassing dating or drinking story?  Share in the comments.