The upside of the downturn

When the GFC first hit us, I panicked. Our collective income dropped. The bills piled up. Things looked grim. How do we support our family? What if we can’t make our mortgage payments? What do we do when the work dries up (because we run our own businesses and we can’t exactly pay ourselves redundancies).

I was spinning down faster and faster in a spiral of negativity, fueled by the media, friends losing their jobs, the talk on the street (or around the water coolers)…

Then I kicked myself in the butt. Hard to do, in more ways than one. I thought of all the people who don’t even know there’s a global recession, because they spend their lives living like it’s always one. And I figured, if they can do it, we can.

So we sold stuff we didn’t need, refinanced loans, stopped the retail therapy, focused on paying off credit cards, started living lean. And it was okay. It actually felt good.

But I didn’t even think about (or value) the other side of slowing down. The part where you’re not juggling  way too many projects and stressing over deadlines. The part where you have time to think, time to learn, time to connect with people again.

And I’ve realised, over the past few weeks, that there are other things about the GFC that are really, really good. We do more family stuff, and we eat out less and cook together more. We’ve shed lots of stuff that’s been weighing us down (even though we didn’t know it). We’ve thought about what’s important to us, and what we really want out of life, and we’re making moves towards it. 

Because when you step out of that whole rat race thing, there’s time to catch your breath. And so much more headspace! You learn stuff about yourself that was being obliterated by the busy-ness… and you get so much more creative.

So yeah, there’s still those clouds hanging around, but it’s not all doom and gloom. Not in my head anyway!

elle x

Easter Madness

Photo credit: freeimages.co.uk

Darrel Lea is packed. It’s the Thursday before Easter and I think the entire annual aid budget for a Third World Nation is being spent on chocolate.

First, I try to get into Darrel Lea through people lining up to buy their eggs. Then, overwhelmed by pressing bodies and chocolate cravings, I try to get out of Darrel Lea (without eggs).

That isn’t going to happen in a hurry. I say a gentle excuse-me to a lady in the line blocking my exit strategy. She doesn’t move forward or backward to let me pass. She just stares studiously ahead with a set jaw and an armful of moulded chocolate.

“Excuse Me,” I say, slightly louder. No response. I want to put my face very close to that determined jaw and say in a Clint Eastwood make-my-day voice, “I know you can see me and I know you can hear me…” But I vowed to give up egg-rage for Lent.

Instead, I gently nudge her toward the counter, hit the gap like a footy pro and flee through the egg-laden hordes.

I’m not sure if it’s age, cynicism or a lightly-oaked version of both, but I’ve completely lost the Easter – and Christmas – spirit.

The only thing that keeps me hanging in there is a penchant for warm Christmas pudding with lashings of custard, and smooth Swiss chocolate Easter eggs.

My children think I’m terribly jaded and unromantic. I don’t see their point. Okay, the Christmas tree is rather bedraggled. It’s a relic of their fading childhood and those bygone days when Christmas trees were genuine fake green.

They want to know when I’m getting married to their step-dad, although every time we mention a date now they just laugh. Which is understandable, I guess.

We’ve made a date every year for thirteen years. But just one look at those wedding buffet prices and the decision is difficult – skiing in the Dolomites, walking the Annapurna Trail… or a wedding. Gee, let me think.

Clearly, I don’t have an issue with romantic sunrises or snow-bound mountain lodges. It’s more a rejection of traditional events designed to bolster the flagging retail sector. From birthdays, weddings and christenings to Christmas, Mother’s Day and every other present-buying celebration, we are sucked into a never-ending purchasing cycle.

The only reason no-one has come up with ‘Kid’s Day’ is because there isn’t a parent out there who’d be fooled (or is there?). It’s Kids Day every day of the year. Even on Mother’s Day they ask me what I want, help me choose it, then steer me to the counter to hand over my own credit card.

Cynical? Who, me? Brand me what you like. I’m still going to pass on the whole faux celebration gig. Don’t buy me anything. What I really want is great company, conversation and laughter – oh, and to watch the sunrise over Machi Picchu sometime soon.

That’s it in a (chocolate) eggshell really.

elle x

OMG…GFC…WTF? When acronyms drive you nuts…

I’ve never been a fan of acronyms, although I know they have their uses.

Like saying ICB instead of Inner City Bypass. Or not having to write out the full name of a company every time you refer to them in an article. Or using PMP instead of ‘project management plan’, and HR instead of Human Resources, and compressing six word government department names…and… well, the list goes on.

Which brings me to the GFC. Now there’s an acronymn that’s sure to raise your anxiety levels. It’s also a sign that this financial crisis is very serious.

I’m old enough to have lived through some nasty financial dips, but you know they’re really bad when people start using acronyms – and delivering them in hushed tones, with pale, anxious faces.

And you try not to let it get to you… think positive, stay focused. Tell yourself we’ve become a bit soft, coddled by our affluence. That all over the world, people are displaced and made destitute by natural disasters, war, and human greed.

And for a moment, you count your blessings and you know that whatever life throws at you, you’ll handle it.

Then you turn on the radio to listen to some upbeat music… and some commentator starts prattling on about the GFC.

I just wish it was as easy to turn off the GFC as it is to turn off the radio.

 

elle x

5 things I hate about goals

Hands up who set themselves fabulous New Year’s Resolutions - and promptly broke most of them within a month. And hands up who cringes when the self-help gurus go on (and on and on) about goal setting. Here are five things I hate about goals…

#1. Are you dreaming?

It’s too easy to get mixed up between dreams and goals. My dream is to be a prolific and published author. My goal is to finish my first novel. A goal is something solid. Something you can work towards.

Remember that stuff about it being great to build castles in the air… now you’ve got to put legs under it? The dream is the castle, the goals are the legs. Okay, I’m sure I’ve done something hideous with the metaphor, but you get my point.

#2. For goals, read guilt…

It’s sooo easy to set up lovely long-term goals and all the short-term goals that lead up to them. But those ‘little’ goals usually involve things like meditating, writing 1000 words, then going for a run. Every morning. All before breakfast. Meanwhile, our families will become magically self-managing, and we will sail into the rest of our day feeling calm and unflappable.

Like hell. We’re immediately setting ourselves up for a guilt trip. Because there’s nothing like failing to reach a ridiculous goal (or several) for turning ourselves into self-flagellating wrecks.

The only way to avoid the guilt is to be realistic in our goal setting. “Given my busy lifestyle, what can I realistically achieve?” For me, it’s writing for a couple of hours once a week. If I can achieve that, I can usually slip in one or two more quick sessions.

#3. Life is a rollercoaster

So we’ve had a reality check, and we’ve got some goals that fit into our lifestyle. All good. Then the ‘life is a rollercoaster’ thing kicks in, and we lose our way. And then it becomes almost impossible to get back into it.  

It’s like going on a chocolate cake binge when we’ve promised ourselves we’re going to eat healthy – and lose weight. Or attacking the vino with a little too much enthusiasm on our designated alcohol-free day.

…the next time we even think about that goal, we’re going to go ‘nup, look what happened last time. There’s no point in trying’. Even though there actually is. Because every time you get back into it after you’ve failed, you get stronger – and the gaps between the slips get bigger. Which brings me to…

#4. I hear voices…

The minute you set yourself goals, you start hearing voices. Natalie Goldberg calls those voices ‘the Resistance’. Because the minute you set up your goals – whether it’s writing 4000 words a week or dropping a dress size – ‘the Resistance’ kicks in to sneer at you, oppose every move, ‘encourage you’ to give up.

‘You can’t do it. You’ll just sit at the computer and blog.’ (oh!). ‘You’ll never be able to stick to that exercise plan.’ (hmmm). ‘Yeh, right. You. Not eat fatty stuff. Are you kidding?’ (yeh…where’s the triple chocolate icecream?).

So, as Natalie G says, you’ve got to fool the Resistance. Be a bit sneaky. She recommends daily writing practice (which works a bit like a brain dump). For me, it works to tell myself I’m not going to write my novel at all. I’m just going to write a description of (for example) my character.

I usually find myself slipping into writing a scene that shows my character interacting with another character, and what happens. Which often leads to the first draft of a scene for my novel. But the Resistance didn’t notice me doing it.

#5. Sticking (it) to goals

The thing I hate most about goals is that… aaagh… you have to have them. If you don’t, it’s like setting out on a road trip with no destination in mind. Which might be okay if you travel in a hash-cloud. But for most of us, going nowhere fast feels like we’re letting ourselves down.

That’s not to say there won’t be diversions along the way. And that the destination won’t change. Or that we won’t be open to opportunities. What it does mean is that we’ll be putting legs under those castles in the air. Or whatever.

elle

Managing procrastination

When people hear you are a writer, one of the first things they ask is ‘where do you get your ideas from?’. This has always seemed a completely ridiculous question to me. I even embrace my hatred of it during writing workshops when somebody inevitably asks the question of a visiting author. I smugly think of the asker – Why are you here? If you need to ask the question you are obviously not a writer.  Perhaps I should be more sympathetic.

So who would I extend my sympathy to? The procrastinators of course.

And why? Well that’s pretty obvious. Because procrastination, I get. I mean right now, I’m writing this piece while reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird (as suggested by Elle), and all the while knowing I should be finishing my rewrite because it’s due by the end of next week.

But there it is – a-ha! You might think this is just another post, but really it’s procrastination management in action. Don’t worry, I’ll lay it all out for you because the mind of the procrastinator is infinitely tricky and convoluted, and often requires explanation.

You see the day started with me knowing what had to be done. So of course I didn’t do that. I dropped the kids at school (that had to be done too). Then I came home and realised I hadn’t actually eaten breakfast. I am not one to skip breakfast (so naturally that had to be done as well). But then sitting in an empty house eating breakfast in silence is a waste of time, so I thought I’d eat in my office, get the computer booted up and, hey, I could even watch some of that latest episode of Battlestar Galactica I downloaded from I-Tunes. Multitasking, I told myself.

Breakfast done, I turned off the visual stimulus. I’m no time waster.

So then I began tidying my desk, in readiness for what had to be done. But that involved moving the book, ‘Bird by Bird’, which I then thought I might begin reading… just to get me in the mood. I read a few pages. Then I flicked through to see exactly how many pages there were in the introduction. Let me tell you, it’s a very long introduction. I continued reading, my finger jammed between the pages at the beginning of chapter one. You see, I had a goal now. I knew when the useful procrastination would stop and my rewriting begin. But it was a really long introduction. My reader brain kept on reading, but my observer brain developed guilt and kept harping on about the reality of this not being useful to the day’s task of rewriting.  

I grabbed a pencil and stuck it between the pages of the book. The introduction could wait. Hey, I thought, I just stopped reading. And before that I stopped watching my favourite tv show. This was good. I was managing my procrastination.

I quickly began to type. On the blank page. About nothing to do with my rewrite.

But let’s not focus on the negative. Because the great thing is that it’s now 10.30am and I still have the whole day ahead of me. I’ve indulged all the little interests around me and I’m actually eager to get into the rewrite.

For some of us, procrastination is just part of the process. And perhaps it too can only be managed, bird by bird.