I am alive!

I know my presence on this blog and on my Facebook page has been sparse lately.  To some degree I can attribute that to writing, so that’s good.  I have indeed finished a short story for the CBC Short Story Contest, and with a day to go I’m going to give it one last edit and submit.

But what’s sidelined me mostly is an ongoing series of illness and injury.  Between colds, back injuries and a weirdly fleeting stomach bug I really haven’t had the energy to get much done in my downtime.  And I’ve actually been doing work at work — I know!

Oh, and reading.  Trying to get through some books.  I was reading Once Every Never for my book club, but just couldn’t finish it no matter how hard I tried.  It wasn’t a terrible book, but it was the type of book that I wasn’t interested in the characters.  The plot was decent, but if the characters are boring or cliché I just can’t be bothered.  I’ll look up what happens on wikipedia or goodreads.

But I only really gave up on it a couple days ago and now am trying to finish World War Z before Friday’s book club.  Yeah, I’m not optimistic either, but a girl can try.

That is assuming that I don’t rip my eyeballs out of my head.  GODS they hurt so much right now.  Why does my body have to get super dry and sensitive around all mucus membranes when I get a cold?  It hurts to BLINK.

 

Grar.

 

That is all.

Expectations

I struggle with expectations, my expectations of other people, of myself, of situations.

In every “new age” “find your zen” type of book I’ve read (and there have been a lot of them, I must admit) the one thing that tends to be very common is the idea of having no expectations. That by having expectations we weigh down those around us and often set ourselves up for disappointment.

I wish it were so very easy to do as it is to say.  I, for one, am complete rubbish at letting go of expectations.  Even when I let them go, I don’t really let go.  Somewhere in the back of my mind there is still something I want from someone else.  It can be big, small, fair or unfair, but it’s always there.  All I’ve managed to do is drown it out; figuratively covering my ears and yelling “Lalalalalala I can’t hear you!”.

I’m not sure that letting go of *all* expectations is a good thing.  Or, maybe it’s more accurate to say that there’s a fine line to walk between ‘No Expectations’ and letting people treat you badly.  And I have certainly not found that line.  Or if I have I’ve managed to tangle it around my ankles like a bad game of jump rope.

I suppose it’s all part of being human.  I think we all have expectations of other people, ourselves, situations.  I am not living the F.R.I.E.N.D.S style life I expected to find in my adulthood.  I am without a partner and I am not a published author.  These are the things I expected of myself – although now that I think about it they’re all heavily reliant on others.  Most days it doesn’t upset me to not have achieved these goals, but it does sometimes get disappointing.

I suppose that’s why some people find such solace in religion.  Because then when you are faced with the dark moment where you ask yourself “Is this all there is to life?” you can say “No.”

I often wished such a thing could be a comfort to me.  But alas, it is not.

Maybe, in the end it is not the expectations I need to let go of, but the anger and disappointment.  I am continually on a mission to be perfectly happy within myself, completely alone.  Alone in the sense of having no partner and very few friends.  Family is here in spirit, if not in geography, but geography definitely counts.

So I strive to live a solitary life.  To do the things I want to do without trying to find someone to do them with me.  To live life as one, instead of a half, waiting to be whole.  Maybe I need to accept that I will never be #1 to anyone else except myself.