The time management

Today I have been wondering about how some people seem to have time for everything. They have kids, they have a farm of their own, they are actively taking part into politics, they have another family company, they are going to the gym like every day, they have other hobbies, and they study in a city an hour away from their own. And they do that everything, not just one or two of those mentioned above.

How do they do that? Am I the only one who doesn’t get it? Let’s see, I have one kid, and a job – no free time for anything else. Am I missing something here? The image of me getting back home, then heading right away to some activity group or a hobby is something… Well I mean, I could do it, with no doubt, but then I wouldn’t be able to spend any time with my daughter, E, that I feel I do too little already when working. Is it all about attitudes?

The life is about choises. Someone has said that anything is possible. But for reaching that ‘anything’ means I need to give up for something else. I really don’t understand how the example above could be possible. I don’t. But I have seen it with my own eyes. Maybe my friends are just that hyperactive? Do they sleep? Like ever?

The husband of my (other) friend was complaining for some time ago that sleeping was the most unnecessary thing in the human life. In the meaning that the time used for sleeping wasn’t productive at all and he couldn’t get any money for sleeping. Or that’s how I understood it. But I have surprised myself thinking the same lately. All I seem to do when having a little free time of my own is – yeah – sleep. It is not funny at all. I have so many plans I would do when I have time: write my novel-to-come, go for a walk, watch movies, phone a friend… and then all I end up doing is to sleep. *sigh*  I could do something else, too. Sleeping takes so much time of my day. I don’t mean I would need to get any money for it (though that sounds a pretty much a dream job, literally), but I would so much like to have something else in my life than just my job and my dearest E.

Ok, well, there could be some things that are stealing my time when I’m not looking. One could be my computer (this blog, facebook, twitter and some silly computer games I enjoy playing when I’m alone). For someone else it could be tv or – I don’t know – even sleeping? There has been plenty of mornings when I end up running for my bus after tweeting without watching the clock. But really, is there much more to do at 5 am?

Let’s see. I was hoping more time for these above:

1. write my novel-to-come (well, this could actually work, if my brain would wake up at the same time as the rest of me does, and I have the feeling I may have done it sometime. The results may vary a bit. Maybe this would be the thing that would make my texts extraordinary!)
2. go for a walk (well, you know, at 5 am? And I will be getting out soon enough – running to my bus anyways, so I think it’s not that necessary at that moment. And if I needed to shower afterwards I should be going for a walk like at 4 am anyways…)
3. watch movies (umm, yeah, like I had 3 hours before – yes – running to my bus again. Why are the newest movies that long anyways? Who has 3 hours time to actuallt watch them? I don’t.)
4. phone a friend (yes! this is it! They would be really pleased with me if I phoned them at 5 am. I wouldn’t have to worry about phoning them again, though.)

Yeah. Not so good options, any of them. So I’ll end up twittering again, probably. That’s fast and fun and there’s no need to disturb any friends that are comfortably sleeping under their blankets.

So, just wondering if my lack of time is all about my bad time management. Or not having energy drings enough? Come on, what’s your secret? How do you do it?

Being all social

I have been thinking about being social lately. I mean, in real, made some deep soul-searching about myself and my behaviour and all. I have been thinking if there could be something I could still do differently to be able to have more satisfying relationship with others. I mean, there’s nothing I can do to change others, right? The only thing I can really change is myself and my attitudes. Do you agree?

Ok. Well. My social life is, umm, changeable. There are days when I feel ready and willing to have conversations and to be interested in others right beginning when I get off bed. Then there are the other days. When I just need to cuddle with my blanket and see and hear absolutely nobody else than me. Is that any common in others, or is that just me? I find it confusing to myself, when I can’t really rely on how did I feel in the evening, for the morning could be something very different. Yeah. Changeable. That’s me.

Being social, it’s easy sometimes, and in some other times it’s really hard for me. I like it when it’s easy. Well, doesn’t anybody? The feeling when you’re thinking fast and your words just sparkle with the wit and others are amused by your presence as much as you are by them. That is fun.

When it’s not that easy I feel like I should just fall off the Earth to make others happy. Or that nothing anybody says can really impress or interest me. “Oh, there are new tastes of teas in the social room”, by some work mate was one of these lines that made me just rip my hair off. “Oh really”, I thought. “How interesting. Tell me more.” And she did allthough I didn’t ask. I couldn’t have cared less. Really. If there’s nothing else to discuss over that tea qualities… I admit, that was one of the bad days of mine. On a social one I might actually have been able to feel that enthusiasm myself, who knows.

The worst problem of mine in being social is my reservedness. And my perfectionism. I would like to be perfect, in every way, so I take a loooong time to refine my sentences and words and all, so all I end up with is sitting alone and still refining them after others just babbled about everything and went on. Hmph. Frustrating, really. I know, trust me, I know I can’t be perfect, in anything, really, so I should drop that objective of mine. That’s easier said than done, though.

I just signed in to Interpals -community in my hopes to learning just let go. You know, writing has always been easier to me that actual speaking, so I thought it could be a right place for me to start doing that. I have liked what I have experienced so far. So, I’m on my way becoming all social. Wish me luck!

Love & Hate

A little commercial brake, if allowed.

There’s another blog of mine, where I try to take a closer look of all the things I love or hate. There’s not much yet, but I assume there will be. Because, you know what? I love lots of things. And there are some I do hate, too. I’ll bet you have these kind of things, too.

So, if you have time, take a look. I hope there could be conversation about all the things mentioned, so don’t hesitate at all.

Here, go ahead. Just click.

 

The questions without answers

Once upon a time there was this girl who saw happiness everywhere. A beam of sunlight on a tree made her smile, feel special connection to everything. A singing bird made her sing too. Nothing was impossible to her, she believed in her possibilities in life. She believed in life. She believed her own wings, that she could fly. There was a meaning in her life, in every life she encountered.

Time has passed. That girl is me now. I can’t remember how that was, all I get is vague memories.

I have been having a hard time accepting myself and the situations I’m in. Be warned: from now on this text is going to be rather pessimistic, miserable self-pitying thing. But I’m also seriously searching the answers I once had. Please, if you have anything to say, anything, I’d be happy to hear it.

The thing is, I have kept dreaming for some higher purpose, or it seemed. I thought that the dreams and hopes I have make me a better person, a stronger one, a more positive one. Well, I’m not. All I have been ended up is just letting my dreams slip away from my fingertips, because I just can’t achieve them. It seems I dream too big. That is my problem. I’m never really content with what I have or who I am, I’m always searching a way to change things, change me.

I’m tired of looking ’round rules wondering what I gotta do or who I’m supposed to be. I don’t want to be anything other than me. ~Gavin DeGraw

What I have been learning lately is that I shouldn’t be anything else than I am. At first it felt as a relieving thought, that I don’t have to try to be something I’m not. That it could really be acceptable to be someone like me, just as I am. Lately this haven’t felt that couraging, anymore. See, I don’t like being me. I don’t want to be as I am. I. Need. To. Change. I feel like I’m just drifting in my life, never taking any particular destination – or better said, I do have destinations, but they are so distant that after awhile I can’t do anything else than give in, search a new destination and try again. And again.

I don’t have the strength to try again anymore. How could I just settle in where I am?

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime. ~Eminem

I have missed my opporturnities, I guess. I haven’t just spotted them. What if I never will? I had it and I didn’t grab it, so happy living to you, right? My dreams have failed me. And I do know why, they were way too big for a girl like me to really make them happen. I feel pain for the loss and don’t know how to let go. The dreams were more like what I could be, what I could do and how I could have impact in the world. Yeah right. An impact. Let me laugh now. There was a time when I felt it could be possible, and even more, that it was possible. I don’t know how anymore.

I once had a conversation with my shrink and her told me that I’m not supposed to be any different, that I couldn’t be that happy, jumping, singing, passionate girl I would like to be – because I’m not. I’m rather serious, pessimistic, cautious, too kind and shy to be anything like that I would like to be. I was hurt. It hurts still, though it has been years now. One of my teachers told me once that I’m so serious all the time. That comment made me go all serious, seriously, because I didn’t feel like that at all.

I read one astrological portrait of me lately and was totally frustrated about it. It told me the very same thing, with different words. It told me that I shouldn’t be trying to be anything special but rather to fit in the crowd. I have always felt that averagy is the worst kind of a place to be. If I couldn’t be good in at least something, then I would want to be very bad in it. But being exactly same as everybody else is… Oh god. But still, there might actually be the answer: to stop trying. You know, trying has never got me anywhere, anyways. Made me frustrated, that’s all. Maybe the path to peace and serenity would be that I shouldn’t try anything anymore? I don’t know how to accept this.

I guess the thing that makes me rebel against myself all the time is that I have so different picture in my head about me than others do. I mean, I know I’m cautious and all that mentioned above, even serious publically, but inside my head I’m not. I got this feeling that I have that fire in me, the fire I’m dreaming of, but I just can’t find it. I can’t let it shine. I can’t, because I don’t know how.

What’s going on fails to concern me, cause I’m locked behind my wall. ~Poets of the Fall

The questions I have been thinking again and again and never really finding any answers to them have been as follows.

How can I accept myself? Or better said, the thing that I shouldn’t become any different at all? Or get what you want? How could I settle for my part and be happy still? How could I make my everyday life to be enough? How could I stop trying to change other people but rather accept them as they are? How could I unite my own needs/hopes and the reality? How could I discern my hopes from the needs I really need? How could I let my hopes and dreams go and stop trying to touch the stars? How could I know when to give up and when to hold on to my own rights? And what would those rights be anyways?

Gosh. Reality sucks.

Dear followers

This morning I had a strange thought when sitting on a bus. I started to make comparisons between the amount of followers of the people I follow in Twitter. I know. But it has to be said for my defence that I was bored.

And then the picture just flared in my head. Imagine if the followers would be really following those persons. I mean, walking behind them, crowding around. It wouldn’t be that crowdy around me, though. But just imagine someone having over 3 million followers. That would be, umm. Impractical at least. What kind of an army would that be! Gosh.

Later I imagined the same person going through his contacts in Twitter, looking offhandedly the messages. I was overwhelmed by the thought. With so many followers, how many messages would I have. How many of them I would actually be able to read. Really read. Uh. It was kind a realization for me again. How distant I’m from the world of the popularity – and even more: how happy I am for it. It could be like having a child. Let me explain. You couldn’t really imagine how your life would be if you had a baby – untill you’ll have one. I think it’s the same with the popularity-thing. You can imagine things, but the reality always strikes back. You’ll know how it is like only after you already are there.

I also realized that with all that popularity becomes a huge responsibility. The person is kind of a leader to those who follow. Not in a real meaning of the word, of course. But just imagine your words would have that much impact on the world. Your attitudes, your values, your everything would be put under the microscope. If you would have a bad day, and you didn’t choose your words with care, who knows where it would lead.

Ok. I’m exaggerating, true, but still. It’s more like a community, a city of people knowing all the same person. But I still can’t let go of the thought of the leadership. There is power in the words, there is influence, whether it is noticed or not. So, I think I’m gonna be more cautious with my words.

Oh. Maybe not. I don’t have 3 million followers. Yet.

True or false: Everytime you lose, you’ll become better

I have been thinking again. You know, this statement has given me strength for some time now, but I have started to suspect that it may not be true. I mean, I understand the point, it is meant to be a couraging sentence and nothing more, but still. Why say things if they aren’t true? Is this?

I think the point has been that you should become better. You should learn from your mistakes, you should grow wiser, tougher and more focused on your destination. You should try more, get over it and do better. I believe there are people who are able to do that. I’m not one of them. I’m more like with those who think: what’s the point trying again when all I’m going to do is fail anyway?

To me a failure seems to be a proof that I am condemned to fail ever after, that I have been right not even trying before. To me a failure is something that you can’t take back or rectify, ever. Yeah. I know. That may actually not be the case and this could be the reason I’m so embarrassed to try something new in front of others. I need to know I can do it before I can try it out publically.

I have this hunch that if I could turn the thought around so that I could believe the headline, it could be a huge resource of belief and strength and optimism. And in a way I do believe it. The thing is, I don’t expect it to be easy. Actually, I’m expecting it to be so damn hard I can’t cope with it. Learn from your mistakes, yeah.

They have taught me only that thing that I’m reaching for the stars but I can’t fly. So there’s no way. It feels painful to let go, to settle down your own reality. It seems I’m always rebelling against, well, me. I’m not happy with the person I am. I don’t want to be this pessimistic, this easily hurt, this scared and unwilling to take risks. I think that was the reason I loved the headline up there. I admire persons who can believe it and act it out. I need their fire to light me up. I have nothing more than a fireplace where the fire has run out, there’s just smoke everywhere.

Gosh, I’m happy today.

But is it true? The headline? I believe it depends on your own attitudes towards life. Your own behaviour. I do still believe that our destinies are -to some extent- ours to make. I believe that there are someones who take that statement as a truth. I believe that there are also someones, who don’t. I would like to believe it. At this point of my blueness I don’t. It’s not true, after all, not for me. Not today.

 

Related post: Getting better

My late-halloween party (Finnish style)

You know, we don’t actually have this holiday in Finland. The thing that is traditional here is to go to the cemetery and light up some candles on 3th Noveber. But halloween… that’s something too American thing for us. I have tried to change the situation, but it seems almost impossible to celebrate it when no-one else is doing it. Well, anyhow, this is how the whole thing went…

The planned menu

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Pumpkin-and-cheese soup
Marinated bat wings
Brown bean and sweet corn sallad
Mozzarella-and-sundried-tomato-bread

Baked apples with butterscotch sauce

Coffee
Small spider cakes
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Sounds good, doesn’t it?

The beginning

I gave a shopping list to my husband. It was the first mistake of mine. I was the whole day on Friday at work and was happily getting ready to make some preparations when I got home. I was tired and bored but still eager to get some things ready. Oh well.

The first thing I noticed when I got home that our apples had gone bad. I swear they was just fine when I planned the menu and I thought that I could get some more from our apple tree, so no prob. I also realized that the apples on our tree wasn’t that good anymore either. Damn autumn. The snow fell couple days ago, I should’ve known. I decided to drop the baked apple -thing.

After this I opened the fridge and was shocked. There was no bat (=broiler) wings – there was only some sliced broiler meat. Damn husbands. He told me that he didn’t find any un-flavored wings so he thought the sliced meat would do the same. Yeah. You might guess what I told him. So, no bat wings either.

Oh, yes, and the pumpkin. It was small and light-weighted and I was disappointed. I even asked if it was real one – but so had my husband asked as well in the store, points for him for that. Gosh. So, the pumpkin soup would be, umm… a small one. Sigh.

I started making the spider cakes with my 2 and a half years old daughter, E. She was happy and reaaally into it. She wanted to help me with everything. She mixed the ingredients – over the table and on the floor. She wanted to taste everything – even plain flour, yummy. She wanted to do the dishes and splashed everything just wet. Oh. Thanks for the help, my dear, but mom can do the rest.

But hey, the spider cakes looked just fine to me! The decoration has been planned by E, beware Jamie Oliver! (Oh, btw, there should have been some liquorice stripes for their legs, but guess what. Yes. My husband didn’t find it from the store. Goodbye legs, then.)

At the time my menu was turning out to be quite something else as I had planned. At the moment it would have seemed more like this:

The menu (updated version)

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Pumpkin-and-cheese soup  A very small soup
Marinated bat wings  Sliced bat meat (perhaps marinated?)
Brown bean and sweet corn sallad
Mozzarella-and-sundried-tomato-bread

Baked apples with butterscotch sauce Something, I’ll figure that out later

Coffee
Small spider cakes (without legs)
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The next day

I woke up with a massive headache. Oh, and had a cramp on my leg. Yup. The things that made me feel that everything was going to be just fine. And it continued with the same track. I started to make the (very small) pumpkin soup and noticed that we had no onions. No. Onions. I wasn’t sure was I going to cry or laugh at the point. When I searched the cupboard for a stock cubes I found out that the box on the shelf was – you might guess already – empty. I decided to laugh. So, a very small pumpkin soup with no onions and no stock cube. Yummy.

I tried to do some decoration around, blowed some balloons – and yes, blowed them up, really.

This was the time I decided I couldn’t cope it anymore without Gavin DeGraw. (I know, I’m addicted.) When singing along everything seemed to brighten up a bit. I decided to make some black-and-red-berry-soup for a dessert. I managed to straighten up the mess E had done with one decoration of ours. I even got the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps I could get through it. There was coming a couple of guests, so that was the reason I over reacted everything. I have this not-so-fun feature called perfectionism, so I was almost ready to call it off because the spiders didn’t have legs. I didn’t. Should I thank Gavin for that? Most likely!

Some views from our home:

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Spooky, right? Sigh.

Anyway, the guests arrived and they actually liked the food – I’m guessing they were just that respectful they couldn’t tell us how bad the food really was. We played with them “the spider eclipse” that is a game planned by E (it includes darkness, a flashlight, music and dancing). It was fun, really, you should try it out!

Did I learn anything from all this? Maybe the thing I should’ve learned a long time ago: too tight plans are ought to be broken. Or that it doesn’t really mattes do the spider cakes have legs or not when the company is that great. No, no, wait! I know! That Gavin DeGraw is the answer to anything!

Or actually that I shouldn’t have too much sugar.

My writing skills

There’s always a fresh suspicion in me about my skill of writing. I feel insecure and sometimes devastated by my wordlessness. And sometimes I feel really surprised when reading something I have written (that I have forgotten already) and think oh my, is this my text, this is good! There used to be a time when I told everybody that I would be writing even if nobody ever was going to read a word I wrote. After that there was a time when I thought that statement was pure nonsense. Isn’t writing a way to communicate with others? A way to try establish something, share thoughts, visions, dreams? And nowadays…. I feel I’m coming back to the first one. I would write no matter what. And still I realize that a text without a reader would be only empty words with no meaning.

Well, my skills? I don’t know if you remember, but I took part in a competition. The results are being announced tomorrow. I haven’t been told I have won, so I guess I haven’t, right? I kinda hoped they would have informed me anyway, somehow, perhaps telling that “thank you for your effort, but no thank you” at least. And there’s nothing. That I call frustrating. I get the feeling that nobody has even seen my text or paid any attention to it.

On the other hand I was happy to hear from some fellow writers that I had done well in another writing assignment. I wrote a short story about four visitors in a spooky-style and it felt totally irritating to me for I felt there could never be a story I wanted it to be. I wrote it because they were waiting for it, for a slight compulsion from them. Yeah. I was, well, I thought it was kinda ok. Not brilliant, but not that bad either. And the feedback they gave was amazing. They loved it, they called it chilling and told me I had managed just brilliantly in keeping the intensity in it. I felt happy and relieved. And amazed. It seems to be like that always: if I feel I have done something gooood, no-one else likes it – if I don’t care so much about my scribbles, they love it. Confusing. Can someone please tell me, why is it?

Still, I do believe I have some skills in it. I wouldn’t be constantly writing if I didn’t.

A huge mess

At the moment I’m in kind of a existential crisis. I have looked this blog through and I have noticed something worrying.

This blog is a huge mess, I think. I have written about just anything. I should divide these things as a different blogs, if I was a decent blogger, right?

Well, I’m not.

I’m a mess, too, and this thing is all about me and my thoughts, so why bother. I think I have tried to please everyone, but that is going to stop right now. I will write anything I want, as I should have done from the beginning – and in a way I have, but I have this feeling I should listen more myself. I have forgotten to do that.

I hope you remember to listen yourself and your innermost feelings and not so much about what others might think. That is their problem, not ours, right?

There will be more interesting posts, I promise. Someday. Of something.

Oh, have you noticed I added a new pages on the left. Something about loving and why to do so. I feel that might be interesting to me to keep going. Take a look!

True or false: A friendship can be mended after a break-up

I think we all have those kind of memories. Memories about friends that we for some reason have lost. I do too. This is a story of it.

I once had this friend, who was my best in all ways possible. I was continuously amazed about her, how wise she was, how caring, how funny and daring. And how good time we had together. I had this feeling that we could talk about just anything, and we did. We cared about each others thoughts and were interested about them. Nothing felt stupid after sharing it with her. I got some pretty good advices from her, she was always there for me.

Not everything was so sweet with her anyways, she was the only one that made me go absolutely mad. I have never been more angry and furious when sometimes arguing with her. I liked to say that we had that kind of passionate love-hate relationship that others have with opposite sex. I mean. Not in that way, of course not. We were friends and she was the dearest I had, after all the arguing, we still were the best friends ever.

What happened, you might ask. The life had other plans for us. There was one thing that came between us. Children. We both were married and we both tried to have children, but it didn’t work as planned – for each of us. I had several miscarriages, she didn’t get pregnant at all. The doctors told her it was because her husband. When I told her about my first miscarriage she told me loud and clear that she couldn’t be my friend if I was pregnant, because she couldn’t be. I didn’t understand. Isn’t a friendship supposed to bear everything? Shouldn’t she be happy for me, just as I was sad for her?

There was another miscarriage after my friend told me that the lightning never strikes twice in the same place. That was slight ironic comment for me, for it did strike, not only twice but thrice. Anyways, after that we had this small break-up, for my friend just couldn’t understand that I would want children if she couldn’t have them. I felt she was selfish and only made me feel worse, for losing my dearest friend and my child-to-come. I decided I couldn’t take that anymore. Now we are friends, now we aren’t.

After several months we started emailing again and everything seemed as good as it could be. After some odd feelings in the beginning, of course. She asked if I was pregnant and I told her that I didn’t have the courage to try anymore. I think she was happy to hear that. I wasn’t. I think we had plenty of arguments in that time, about just anything. About my choise of husband (she didn’t approve. Like I cared.), about my feelings of insufficiency, about religion, about everything we talked about. I got this feeling she didn’t have any respect for me anymore. And in the same time she told me how sad she was when all her friends took some distance from her. Well, I couldn’t blame them. I did, too. She was too much for me to take. I can’t really remember anymore what was the ultimate reason we totally stopped being in contact. It had to do something with the subject, of course, but I can’t remember.

After that I did have my dear doughter and I was happy. I couldn’t help myself thinking about my friend and hoping that everything was turned well for her, too. I put some pictures of my doughter on Facebook and I was totally stunned when one day there was a message from my friend. She congratulated me for having a child. I saw in her picture two little girls and was amazed. I found out that she had twins, 6 months older than my doughter. I was truly happy for her and I assumed she was happy for me, too. We started to have conversations again, small ones, very cautious ones, for we both tried not to hurt the another. For a small time it felt like we could be friends again, as before. She did even visit me once allthough she lived another side of the country. It felt funny for me. We had experienced so much and still everything was pretty much the same as before. It made me feel sad somehow. Did we just not talk about the injuries we had caused to each other and just pretend we were good again? I think we did, for it didn’t last.

We aren’t friends at the moment.

This makes me think that after a friendship has been truly and entirely cut off, there can’t be any cure for it anymore. So I have to announce the statement in the headline as false. What do you think? Is there a chance for broken friendships to be mended again?

I’m sad for this, of course, for I understand that she was one of a million. There will never be another friend like her. I just need to live with that.