I was cruising along quite nicely until a couple of weeks ago. And when I say cruising I mean unemployed, overweight, unfit and feeling a tad unfulfilled in general. But… in the overall scheme of things I wasn’t throwing myself onto my bed in fits of depression or moaning TOOOOO much on social media.
I had an assignment due for university that was well in hand. I had accepted a paying editing gig (editing a novel). And I was finally back at my exercise class after multiple injuries.
I often talk here about my navel-gazing. My pondering. My prevaricating. So obviously I ‘think’ a lot. I’m certainly an overthinker which I think can be a good and bad thing.
But as I live alone (and have done so for 30+yrs) I only notice how much I do it when I’m around others for extended periods of time. Which is the case at the moment.
I have very low expectations of others. That is to say, my cynical pessimistic distrusting personality means I set the bar very low. Or so I thought.
A few weeks ago I bookmarked an article on Tiny Buddha about how we often find ourselves disappointed in others because of our expectations of them.
It very much resonated. Which was weird as—like I said—I tend to think I expect little.
I’ve talked in the past about the difference between envy and jealousy and I tend to think the former feels less negative or nasty than the latter.
Recently however I’ve been pondering something in between. Not quite envy, but a wistfulness about something someone else does or has that we wish we did.
I get that ‘I’ll have what she has’ feeling about a few people.
It’s very weird that I’m so averse to the beach – by which I mean the ocean, sand and sun – because I love being out on the water.
I think there’s some kind of selective memory thing happening because I forget [that] until I’m out there. And some of my favourite memories over recent years feature boat trips.
I’ve talked about this before. A year or two after my seachange I joked about the idea of going on holiday to some nice apartment in a coastal town somewhere, when—in fact—I lived in a nice apartment on the beach in a coastal town. Of course I’m not ‘right’ on the beach now, but have my beach views so many would opt for my house as a holiday destination.
Location aside, it occurs to me the whole idea of a holiday is kinda ironic. I mean, isn’t it?
I have new sneakers. I know that’s not a big deal for most people. Indeed once it wouldn’t have been for me either. When I was a regular gym-goer and exerciser I used to get new sneakers (aka: sandshoes, runners, joggers) each year. I was – back then – a Nike addict so the brand was usually a no-brainer and often I had several pairs, cross-trainers for sport or gym classes; and running shoes for… well for walking.
Regular readers would know however that my exercise regime has been sporadic over the last decade (or two). When I’m on a fitness roll – as I was before my seachange – I attended gym classes 4-5 days a week. And sometimes walked as well.
So much for starting the new year with a bang. First I published an overly-dramatic post about food and my weight. Then I accidentally got sunburnt when visiting the local pool for a friend’s birthday celebrations. (A no-no for me as my father ultimately died as a result of skin cancer. Sort of.)
But, as this morning rolled around and those gainfully employed prepared to return to work, I decided I’d start the year afresh and on a positive note. My university break was over and I’d already done the reading required for the coming week. I was due to head back to my over 50s exercise classes and my clothes were laid out ready.
Anyone who knows me knows I’m very bah-humbug about Christmas. I’m not Scrooge-like exactly but the entire thing leaves me kinda cold. Perhaps it’s because here in Australia we’re far from the traditional images we see on television of snow and crackling fires. Here – increasingly – Aussies are more about prawns on the BBQ or seafood by the beach.
As as I’m not big on Christmas food (turkey, plum puddings, or seafood), Easter is my festive season of choice. Cos, well… chocolate. Though I’m not sure Christians would agree, but whatevs.