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usedtobeljsIt's been an odd few weeks, because I can feel the tug of the Black Dog even when nothing (beyond crazy work demands and an inability to move forward) is actually wrong. But I am taking a few proactive measures:
1) Doing regular Pilates is a joy to me. I am a firm believer in an individual choosing the kind(s) of movements she enjoys, because otherwise exercise can be a chore, easily abandoned. Going to the new Pilates studio and working on strength, flexibility, and a bit of balance is something that makes me happy.
Even though I apparently have minimal core strength, gaah.
2) It's the perfect time in the subtropics to walk to work. Wheee!
3) Thinking about London is happy-making always. (Thinking about Brexit, less so. I am so sorry, y'all across the pond.)
4) I am taking two items of clothing to the seamstress today -- one for hem repair, the other for button replacement. I absolutely believe in taking care of one's possessions instead of discarding: the button-replacement item is a fifteen-year-old silk blazer, and it will be happy-making to be able to wear it again after the dry cleaners ruined all the buttons some months ago.
5) Half a page of the original project last night.
Two three-sentence ficlets on the topic of Fighting the Black Dog:
He sits at his desk in his home study, stares out at the bookshelves opposite him, curses the day he embarked on the mad enterprise of attempting to order the bloody British government.
He's so tired, so tired, and there is almost nothing to cheer him up.
"Here's a cup of your favourite Darjeeling, darling," says Anthea from the doorway, and he feels warmth and strength flowing back to him -- which has little to do with the gift of the camellia sinensis, and everything to do with her.
............................
The fall from Heaven had been his idea, Lucifer has been saying for millennia, and despite the moniker of "Father of Lies," he has believed that to be the truth.
But sometimes, when Chloe rolls her eyes at one of his sallies, or smiles reluctantly at his nonsense, or (rarely) comes into his arms for comfort, he wonders if he was wrong. This feels rather like what Heaven is supposed to be.
Happy middle of the week!
1) Doing regular Pilates is a joy to me. I am a firm believer in an individual choosing the kind(s) of movements she enjoys, because otherwise exercise can be a chore, easily abandoned. Going to the new Pilates studio and working on strength, flexibility, and a bit of balance is something that makes me happy.
Even though I apparently have minimal core strength, gaah.
2) It's the perfect time in the subtropics to walk to work. Wheee!
3) Thinking about London is happy-making always. (Thinking about Brexit, less so. I am so sorry, y'all across the pond.)
4) I am taking two items of clothing to the seamstress today -- one for hem repair, the other for button replacement. I absolutely believe in taking care of one's possessions instead of discarding: the button-replacement item is a fifteen-year-old silk blazer, and it will be happy-making to be able to wear it again after the dry cleaners ruined all the buttons some months ago.
5) Half a page of the original project last night.
Two three-sentence ficlets on the topic of Fighting the Black Dog:
He sits at his desk in his home study, stares out at the bookshelves opposite him, curses the day he embarked on the mad enterprise of attempting to order the bloody British government.
He's so tired, so tired, and there is almost nothing to cheer him up.
"Here's a cup of your favourite Darjeeling, darling," says Anthea from the doorway, and he feels warmth and strength flowing back to him -- which has little to do with the gift of the camellia sinensis, and everything to do with her.
............................
The fall from Heaven had been his idea, Lucifer has been saying for millennia, and despite the moniker of "Father of Lies," he has believed that to be the truth.
But sometimes, when Chloe rolls her eyes at one of his sallies, or smiles reluctantly at his nonsense, or (rarely) comes into his arms for comfort, he wonders if he was wrong. This feels rather like what Heaven is supposed to be.
Happy middle of the week!
