Thursday, 26 April 2012

The OCD Bookworm

I know I am a bit behind the times but I am loving the HBO series Game of Thrones. I started watching it last night and, like a good book, I couldn't put it down. The sleep deprivation is worth it though. Anything that can make me cry is worth the time. If the episodes were able to get me to hide behind my hands, squeeze my eyes shut and yell at the screen, then I cannot wait to read the books. It's uncharacteristic of me to watch a moving-picture version of a narrative before reading it, but I think that I will get just as much enjoyment out of the books. Although it'll cost more.

The amount of boodle I spend on books can be quite frightening. Many women break the bank over clothes or shoes or fancy handbags. My weakness is books. It's all very well to borrow a novel from a friend and read it to see if it captures my attention but if it does, I have to own a copy myself. And if it's a series, I want the whole series. Preferably all with the same edition covers. One of my many OCD twitches comes from owning a series where not all of the books are of the same edition. I'll have to post a picture sometime to show what I mean. Some of my other OCD-ness or pet-'hates':
  • my books need to be organised properly - all of a series together, in order
  • incorrect usage of 'to' versus 'too'
  • badly hanging towels on a rail (if you've watched Sleeping with the Enemy you'll know what I mean)
  • bread crumbs on a kitchen counter
...yes I think that's most of them. I am sure there are others but I can't think of any specific ones. People who know about it tease me. I was at a restaurant with a friend recently and he purposefully disturbed the neat arrangement of the salt and pepper shakers and waited to see how long I could stand it before needing to fix it. I think I lasted at least a minute.

Back to the books - I have been loaned the first of a new trilogy to read. Quite excited to delve into the land of Midkemia properly. Something to peruse on the weekend... Or tomorrow... Or tonight :)

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Grapes, Trees and Boxes

Today I picked grapes off the stalks and put them in my mug of water. I drank some of the water. I ate a grape. I drank more of the water. I am sure you can see where this is headed - no grapes, no water, and a fair few bystanders thinking I'm a little strange.

This was all done during a fresh-air break from my cubicle at work. Well, at my office. I don't exactly work work. I dabble. And then feel guilty. Not that that gets me to work more these days. At the moment my desk is covered in paper, some of it in neat stacks (don't ask me what's in them because I do not know) and some of it just haphazardly scattered around and on top of things. And there sit the rest of my grapes, the ones that have yet to try their skins at swimming.

Organisation. Of the lives of others, I am amazing if I do say so myself. Of my own life: I suck at it. My desk is just one mini-example. You should see my room. My mother would have a fit if she saw it. I have a fit when I see it. Sometimes. Most often I'm apathetic. That seems to be the word to describe me these days. Apathetic. I try not to see it as a sign that it's one letter-drop away from being 'slap-out-of-it!' worthy. I wish my pep talks worked on me like they used to. But that is a melancholic whinge for another time. Back to my fresh-air break....

The grape-in-water marination accompanied some contemplation whilst staring blankly at a tree I quite like. Here it is...






It is a runt at the moment, sure, but I like it's simplicity, coupled with it's capacity for magnificent complexity. Maybe you don't see what I see but we all live our lives looking through different glasses. There's a metaphor for people there. One would think that it's most applicable to strangers but I'm finding that it applies equally to friends, although the ramifications of that are often more stinging than were we to consider people we know we do not know. On the bright side...

I believe that to be a true friend, to ensure you encapsulate all that it means to have a friend and to be a friend, we should try to avoid putting people in boxes, particularly those we characterise as non-strangers. As corny as it sounds and as much of a cliche that it is, if you put a person in box you rob them of their ability to grow and change within the dynamics of the interpersonal relationship. For strangers, boxes often come from first impressions, but maybe you put someone, particularly a friend, in a box because you think you understand them and know all that they are. You don't. Not completely. There will always be that underlying capacity for complexity in everyone you know. So if every person is like that tree, if you stick them in a box the chances of you ever seeing their complexity emerge in all it's splendor rapidly approaches zero (asymptotically of course).

Perhaps even more important than not putting others in boxes is to avoid boxifying yourself. I'll let you think on that.


Side Note:  this post is a typical example of what to expect from me - topic ramblings that perhaps don't quite fit together; it'll be rare for a post to stay on topic from start to finish with no interruptions - good luck

We all have to start somewhere

For the past while, a long while at that, there have been many things on my mind; many worries from minor to major. I follow a few friends' blogs. The idea for the k9version has been toyed with. However, having been graciously invited to access a new one today, and after reading many of the postings therein, I decided to finally take the leap and start my own. And here it is.

I used to be a bottler, something I got from my mother. I'd keep everything thing inside, think about things in the (not always comfortable) confines of my own mind, deal with things alone - needing no-one. Then I started a penchant for diarising, or journaling depending on who you speak to. Having a 'diary' sounds too teenage-angst-whiny to my mind so I obnoxiously say I have 'journals'. Since I started my entries with the date and time instead of 'Dear Diary' I feel that I am justified in making this clarification. To hell with it if you think I'm not. Anyhoo, I digress. The journaling helped me immensely. I found it easier to think things through clearly on paper. It was also a very therapeutic method of emoting without it impacting on others. So I was still a bottler but I had an 'out'. And so it's been for nigh on ten years.

My entries have never been consistent. Looking back through my various journals I mainly wrote when I was feeling a strong emotion, good or bad; although from the dark days it appears to have been mainly anger or fear or sorrow. Regardless, this meant that there would be periods of intense and frequent entries and then months of desert. Granted, these deserts did not always mean that I'd felt no need to write. Perhaps there had been factors that stopped me, laziness being a common one. There were others too, darker. I still enjoy journaling and I still use it for many of the same reasons. I speak to people now though.  

So my point is that if you are planning on following these posts please do not trust in it being part of your daily routine. I feel confident in being able to guarantee that I will not be rigourous in my writing here. Also, if you don't understand a post, well, these are called ramblings. Sometimes they are not meant to make sense to any but those taking up residence in my consciousness.