(Notice the lack of "Sleep"?)
I'm super-psyched for an awesome New Year's Eve/ New Year tonight: I have silky soft hair after an at-home treatment, a shiny new camera to play with and a pretty see-through mug of good quality flowering jasmine tea to sip as I tinker. I even managed to squeeze in one last recipe and post for Tashcakes!, and I have freshly washed bedsheets to snuggle into later.
... What, did you think I'd be out there doing something interesting and quirky and Tash-ish?
New Year's Eve has never been a night of Going Out And Doing Stuff for me. I think anyone who knows me can agree that I do more than enough of that on normal days: so NYE is one of the rare times I just let myself do Bugger All. No FOMO for me- just kicking back and relaxing, and giving myself a moment to process all of the stuff I've done in the year (but don't worry, this isn't going to be a "Wot I Did This Year Lol Aren't I Amazing" post). As for tomorrow, the first day of the new year itself, I will think about all the things to come in 2015 (or rather panic mildly at the mad things I've signed up for and the things I need to get organised for).
The great thing at the moment is that lots of my friends are beginning to take on the same mentality as me- so instead of feeling guilty about turning down their events, I get to switch off at home knowing that they're doing the same thing! There is plenty to do in the city on a night like this- but you know what? This is London, and there is always plenty to do, every single day and night of the year. So just once a year- just for tonight- I'd just prefer to drink my tea, try not to break my new toys and look forward to clean sheets.
A happy new year to you all- as I said in Tashcakes!, "go try new foods, experience new things and most importantly: have fun!"
Showing posts with label being busy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being busy. Show all posts
Wednesday, 31 December 2014
Thursday, 18 December 2014
Sleep is for Sissies
My name is Tash and I am a serial sleep-dodger.
Most of the time it's genuine insomnia. Other times it's because I have so many little things to do and so little clue as to when to call it a day, and I just end up keeping on going. And occasionally, for no reason at all, I just seem to zone out and suddenly it's 3am and I have to get up in three hours for work.
Most of the time though it's because there is just far too much to do. Even as I'm writing this I'm pausing and thinking, "Oh yeah, I need to reply to X about this, and confirm with Y about that, and plan on my travel route for Z". This seemingly short blog post will probably take about an hour to write because I'm constantly doing All The Things in one go.
Even after that sentence I disappeared to a new tab because I remembered I needed to reply to a good friend currently travelling in Nepal, and then straight after that I found out that someone from the Geek Girls London meetup group had messaged me two months ago about spotting me at a K-Pop dance class, but I hadn't picked up on it because the notification system was playing up- so I picked that up too.
It has now officially been a full hour since I started writing this blog, at 11:45pm. Still so much to make sure I get done before bedtime...
Most of the time it's genuine insomnia. Other times it's because I have so many little things to do and so little clue as to when to call it a day, and I just end up keeping on going. And occasionally, for no reason at all, I just seem to zone out and suddenly it's 3am and I have to get up in three hours for work.
Most of the time though it's because there is just far too much to do. Even as I'm writing this I'm pausing and thinking, "Oh yeah, I need to reply to X about this, and confirm with Y about that, and plan on my travel route for Z". This seemingly short blog post will probably take about an hour to write because I'm constantly doing All The Things in one go.
Even after that sentence I disappeared to a new tab because I remembered I needed to reply to a good friend currently travelling in Nepal, and then straight after that I found out that someone from the Geek Girls London meetup group had messaged me two months ago about spotting me at a K-Pop dance class, but I hadn't picked up on it because the notification system was playing up- so I picked that up too.
It has now officially been a full hour since I started writing this blog, at 11:45pm. Still so much to make sure I get done before bedtime...
Friday, 17 October 2014
Enjoy Every Second Your Way
My friend Sarah and I were trying to find the end of an immense queue for char kway teow noodles at the Malaysia Night festival. There were queues everywhere, full of all kinds of people waiting for all kinds of food, an organised chaos of interweaving lines like the London Underground. My British little heart looked at all the queues and found them beautiful.
Most people were happy to give other hungry and friendly strangers tips on where they had found the interesting food they were holding, or which end of which queue belonged to which food stall.
Of course, some were still a little bit too much on the British side.
"Hi! Hello! Um... excuse me, is this the queue for that stall over there?"
I smiled hopefully at the lady in the queue. The lady gave a mildly terrified look, as if I had just asked her to choose between her money or her life. Her eyes then unfocused, and stared right through me, a watery polite but insubstantial smile hovering on her lips. She turned away, having apparently decided I was some sort of ghostly apparition. Sarah giggled as I threw my hands up in exasperation.
It was my birthday earlier this week. I'm older, and none the wiser, and still asking strangers in the city questions while trying not to freak them out with my forthrightness. I also haven't been posting for the last couple of weeks- in fact, for two more weeks than I realised: this gives you some sort of idea of how badly I'm keeping track of passing time at the moment. My weekday evenings are packed with Mandarin, ukulele, Dungeons and Dragons and dance, my weekends are packed with cool friends, my kitchen is full of the cakes I've baked, my absolutely free time is non-existent. And I'm having a shedload of fun learning new things, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones.
Let's do another year!
Most people were happy to give other hungry and friendly strangers tips on where they had found the interesting food they were holding, or which end of which queue belonged to which food stall.
Of course, some were still a little bit too much on the British side.
"Hi! Hello! Um... excuse me, is this the queue for that stall over there?"
I smiled hopefully at the lady in the queue. The lady gave a mildly terrified look, as if I had just asked her to choose between her money or her life. Her eyes then unfocused, and stared right through me, a watery polite but insubstantial smile hovering on her lips. She turned away, having apparently decided I was some sort of ghostly apparition. Sarah giggled as I threw my hands up in exasperation.
It was my birthday earlier this week. I'm older, and none the wiser, and still asking strangers in the city questions while trying not to freak them out with my forthrightness. I also haven't been posting for the last couple of weeks- in fact, for two more weeks than I realised: this gives you some sort of idea of how badly I'm keeping track of passing time at the moment. My weekday evenings are packed with Mandarin, ukulele, Dungeons and Dragons and dance, my weekends are packed with cool friends, my kitchen is full of the cakes I've baked, my absolutely free time is non-existent. And I'm having a shedload of fun learning new things, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones.
Let's do another year!
Sunday, 13 July 2014
Just Dance
In a fit of whimsical madness, I decided to try K-pop dancing this week.
I stumbled across the dance group searching for a C-pop band I usually listen to, who also happen to have a K-pop incarnation. The dance group have been learning one of this band's routines this month, and since you can just drop in on any session to learn a section of the routine at a time, I thought, 'why not?'
I'm not a natural dancer. You'd think being a musician would make me good at dancing by default since I'm at home with beat, rhythm, coordination and the like, but you'd be mistaken. Sure, like almost anything else, if I set my mind to it I could be reasonable at it, but it's definitely not one of my natural talents like making music or cake or crafts. I know I'm never going to be a dancer. Hell, I even know I'll never have the time to go to regular classes to teach my arms and legs to work together in harmony. So why bother at all?
Well, what a sad world would it be, if we didn't try things just because we weren't instantly good at them?
I've often been been called for doing things that are a 'waste of my time'. After some debate with people with this view (usually well-meaning family members), I've realised that that the concept of something being a 'waste of time' to these people translates roughly as 'doing something that doesn't better yourself in a way that will allow you to further your career, earn more money and be more successful in life.'
What an even sadder world it would be without personal enrichment.
Really, this calls into question what 'success' really means, as a life value. In today's society, I suppose it means to have lots of money, own your own two-bedroom property and car and to go on lots of holidays abroad. If this is all that's important in life, than surely you must spend every waking moment assuring you are doing everything in your power to achieve these things?
There's a problem with this mentality, though. The most obvious one is all work and no play makes Jack a crazy axe-wielding psychopath (or maybe that's only when you work in a haunted hotel). The big one- the big, scary one that everyone tries their best to ignore- is the fact that you can't take it all with you when you die. At least, it doesn't seem that way. For all I know when you die little ghost versions of all of your life's belongings follows you to the afterlife, but for now I'm guessing now.
In your final moments of earthly awareness, as you contemplate the series of events that became your life, are you going to regret not spending more hours at the computer on that Excel spreadsheet? Or will you regret never getting round to doing that thing you always wanted to do because you were always at your computer on that Excel spreadsheet?
Money can help to buy happiness, but if you don't take the time to find out reflect inwardly on what makes you happy, then you're pretty much screwed. Other people can't make you happy either, really (although they certainly help a huge amount!) The only thing that can truly make you happy is yourself- and that, in itself, can take quiet a bit of work. Without working on yourself as a person rather than yourself as a commodity, you could have all the money in the world and feel empty, and be surrounded by as many people as possible and still feel lonely.
I am a writer by day, but in between working hours I sing and play musical instruments, bake and decorate cakes, learn languages, meet with friends all over the place, run, create cute cuddly things out of felt and wool, knit, and now apparently I try to dance. Why? Because all of these things make me happy, as well as finding new challenges and experiences in itself. Maybe K-pop dancing won't be one that sticks quite like all of the others, but for now, I'm happy with it being one of the things I remember on my death bed and think, 'Haha! That was pretty crazy but fun, huh?'
I stumbled across the dance group searching for a C-pop band I usually listen to, who also happen to have a K-pop incarnation. The dance group have been learning one of this band's routines this month, and since you can just drop in on any session to learn a section of the routine at a time, I thought, 'why not?'
I'm not a natural dancer. You'd think being a musician would make me good at dancing by default since I'm at home with beat, rhythm, coordination and the like, but you'd be mistaken. Sure, like almost anything else, if I set my mind to it I could be reasonable at it, but it's definitely not one of my natural talents like making music or cake or crafts. I know I'm never going to be a dancer. Hell, I even know I'll never have the time to go to regular classes to teach my arms and legs to work together in harmony. So why bother at all?
Well, what a sad world would it be, if we didn't try things just because we weren't instantly good at them?
I've often been been called for doing things that are a 'waste of my time'. After some debate with people with this view (usually well-meaning family members), I've realised that that the concept of something being a 'waste of time' to these people translates roughly as 'doing something that doesn't better yourself in a way that will allow you to further your career, earn more money and be more successful in life.'
What an even sadder world it would be without personal enrichment.
Really, this calls into question what 'success' really means, as a life value. In today's society, I suppose it means to have lots of money, own your own two-bedroom property and car and to go on lots of holidays abroad. If this is all that's important in life, than surely you must spend every waking moment assuring you are doing everything in your power to achieve these things?
There's a problem with this mentality, though. The most obvious one is all work and no play makes Jack a crazy axe-wielding psychopath (or maybe that's only when you work in a haunted hotel). The big one- the big, scary one that everyone tries their best to ignore- is the fact that you can't take it all with you when you die. At least, it doesn't seem that way. For all I know when you die little ghost versions of all of your life's belongings follows you to the afterlife, but for now I'm guessing now.
In your final moments of earthly awareness, as you contemplate the series of events that became your life, are you going to regret not spending more hours at the computer on that Excel spreadsheet? Or will you regret never getting round to doing that thing you always wanted to do because you were always at your computer on that Excel spreadsheet?
Money can help to buy happiness, but if you don't take the time to find out reflect inwardly on what makes you happy, then you're pretty much screwed. Other people can't make you happy either, really (although they certainly help a huge amount!) The only thing that can truly make you happy is yourself- and that, in itself, can take quiet a bit of work. Without working on yourself as a person rather than yourself as a commodity, you could have all the money in the world and feel empty, and be surrounded by as many people as possible and still feel lonely.
I am a writer by day, but in between working hours I sing and play musical instruments, bake and decorate cakes, learn languages, meet with friends all over the place, run, create cute cuddly things out of felt and wool, knit, and now apparently I try to dance. Why? Because all of these things make me happy, as well as finding new challenges and experiences in itself. Maybe K-pop dancing won't be one that sticks quite like all of the others, but for now, I'm happy with it being one of the things I remember on my death bed and think, 'Haha! That was pretty crazy but fun, huh?'
Sunday, 22 June 2014
And the Ukelele Makes Ten
I made my peace with music, recently.
We've always had quite an intense, turbulent relationship. I started playing the piano at the age of four, going on to complete a professional diploma in performance before I'd started university as well as Grade 8 in flute within four years of taking it up, and then earning Grade 8 singing within two years of taking proper lessons. I even ended up learning and taking a performance exam for the mbira at university. By the end of my musical education, I could play:
-Piano
-Flute
-Voice
-Guitar
-Lever harp
-Mbira
-Djembe
-Marimba
-Recorder/ tin whistle (beyond primary school level, that is)
I'd performed on each of these either as a solo or as part of a group at various and endless concerts and shows, and although the relationship was time-consuming and stressful (as many long-term relationships with anything can be), I thought the love would last forever.
Until the end of university, when I burned out.
The first sign was when my new piano tutor at university began to put pressure on me to work towards a second diploma. The way the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music works is this: you have Grades 1-8 (which everyone knows about), but afterwards there are three further levels of professional qualification: Diploma, Licentiate and Fellowship. It's not particularly for someone as young as I was to reach the diploma stage. So of course when I began my music course at university, my new tutor was eager to push me even further.
The problem was, though, that I was just so very tired of relentless examination. Playing the piano had always been a source of joy and escape for me at school, even at times of high pressure. At university, despite being used to pressure, it just stopped being fun. It started to just be all about Impressing People. Even worse, my new tutor was slightly dismissive rather than encouraging, telling me 'You won't be able to play that', or 'Oh, but everyone knows how to play that' (the latter after I learned a certainly-not-easy piece completely by heart in a week). I stopped feeling like the piano was my instrument, and started feeling like a delusional child.
I made the decision, much to my tutor's disgruntlement, not to continue to Licentiate level, and to focus on other areas of music.
The course I enrolled on was very 21st century music-orientated, which at first I thought would be interesting, but I very rapidly learned just wasn't my cup of tea. Having to write experimental abstract music felt like Monet might feel if someone dragged him to the Tate Modern and told him to be more like the artists there.
I clung to every unexamined performance, savouring every gig with my medieval band, taking in every moment with my African drumming group, revelling in every rebellious piece of music I played on the piano that wasn't what I was due to play in the next exam. Slowly, though, people in the groups I was in drifted away either graduating before me and moving elsewhere in the country or losing interest in playing themselves. The day the music proverbially died for me, though, was the day I handed in my last ethnomusicology assignment in my final year.
I loved ethnomusicology. I swear I was a stone's throw away from dreading my hair, wearing tie-dye and travelling the world in the name of music because of ethnomusicology (only I've always been too disgustingly middle class for that to ever happen. Although isn't travelling the world to spiritually find yourself a middle class thing?) Anyway, when it ended, so did my enthusiasm for music. All music thereafter was purely academic, and since music had always formerly been connected to my emotions, I became detached from it. After graduation the piano lid closed, the flute remained in pieces and my voice went back into hiding. My loving eighteen-year relationship with music had died.
Mourning was difficult. Everyone who had known me as an accomplished musician kept reminding me of that amazing concerto I performed in, or that time I sang a solo part for BBC youth choir of the year, or that gig where I only had a few days to learn twenty popular songs on the piano by heart, etc. etc. etc.
It felt a bit like the heartbreak of splitting up with your partner, but with everyone reminding you how great you were together. I tried to salvage the relationship, I really did. I tried going back to why I loved music, playing only music I enjoyed listening to. It didn't work: I put my fingers to the piano keys, and I dutifully played the notes, but that spark just wasn't there any more. Even worse, it felt too much like I was trying to reclaim my 'glory days'. I told myself that I knew from the very beginning that I'd never be a professional musician, and I admitted to myself that I'd never be the admired musician that I once was: those days were behind me. I moved on.
My creative nature, however, was still very much alive. Eventually I discovered my knack with words, and writing became my career. I started baking and decorating cakes as a hobby, discovered felting, started going to the gym and took up Mandarin evening lessons after work. Five years on, I've made good way in finding out who I am without music, having previously believed that music was all that there was to me.
I thought that the story had ended happily enough, until relatively recently.
I began to stumble across musicians and artists who reminded me that music can be fun- for example Pentatonix, who have successfully proved to the world that a capella can be awesome, and Steam Powered Giraffe, who perform as steampunk-style robots. I rediscovered old idols, from Imogen Heap to The Beatles. I started properly listening to music again. I started to sing along.
A few weeks ago, a friend posted on Facebook about a taster ukelele workshop, and something went 'ding' in my mind. I signed myself up, roped another friend in and went to the workshop last week. By the end of it I was smiling so much my face hurt. Yesterday I went to a ukelele shop, tried out a few, and bought one. I also signed myself up to regular group lessons, so I can play music with other people again.
Since since adopting my ukelele yesterday, the only times I've put it down are to bake and update my blogs (and you know, to sleep etc).
After all this time, I think my romance with music may have been rekindled.
We've always had quite an intense, turbulent relationship. I started playing the piano at the age of four, going on to complete a professional diploma in performance before I'd started university as well as Grade 8 in flute within four years of taking it up, and then earning Grade 8 singing within two years of taking proper lessons. I even ended up learning and taking a performance exam for the mbira at university. By the end of my musical education, I could play:
-Piano
-Flute
-Voice
-Guitar
-Lever harp
-Mbira
-Djembe
-Marimba
-Recorder/ tin whistle (beyond primary school level, that is)
I'd performed on each of these either as a solo or as part of a group at various and endless concerts and shows, and although the relationship was time-consuming and stressful (as many long-term relationships with anything can be), I thought the love would last forever.
Until the end of university, when I burned out.
The first sign was when my new piano tutor at university began to put pressure on me to work towards a second diploma. The way the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music works is this: you have Grades 1-8 (which everyone knows about), but afterwards there are three further levels of professional qualification: Diploma, Licentiate and Fellowship. It's not particularly for someone as young as I was to reach the diploma stage. So of course when I began my music course at university, my new tutor was eager to push me even further.
The problem was, though, that I was just so very tired of relentless examination. Playing the piano had always been a source of joy and escape for me at school, even at times of high pressure. At university, despite being used to pressure, it just stopped being fun. It started to just be all about Impressing People. Even worse, my new tutor was slightly dismissive rather than encouraging, telling me 'You won't be able to play that', or 'Oh, but everyone knows how to play that' (the latter after I learned a certainly-not-easy piece completely by heart in a week). I stopped feeling like the piano was my instrument, and started feeling like a delusional child.
I made the decision, much to my tutor's disgruntlement, not to continue to Licentiate level, and to focus on other areas of music.
The course I enrolled on was very 21st century music-orientated, which at first I thought would be interesting, but I very rapidly learned just wasn't my cup of tea. Having to write experimental abstract music felt like Monet might feel if someone dragged him to the Tate Modern and told him to be more like the artists there.
I clung to every unexamined performance, savouring every gig with my medieval band, taking in every moment with my African drumming group, revelling in every rebellious piece of music I played on the piano that wasn't what I was due to play in the next exam. Slowly, though, people in the groups I was in drifted away either graduating before me and moving elsewhere in the country or losing interest in playing themselves. The day the music proverbially died for me, though, was the day I handed in my last ethnomusicology assignment in my final year.
I loved ethnomusicology. I swear I was a stone's throw away from dreading my hair, wearing tie-dye and travelling the world in the name of music because of ethnomusicology (only I've always been too disgustingly middle class for that to ever happen. Although isn't travelling the world to spiritually find yourself a middle class thing?) Anyway, when it ended, so did my enthusiasm for music. All music thereafter was purely academic, and since music had always formerly been connected to my emotions, I became detached from it. After graduation the piano lid closed, the flute remained in pieces and my voice went back into hiding. My loving eighteen-year relationship with music had died.
Mourning was difficult. Everyone who had known me as an accomplished musician kept reminding me of that amazing concerto I performed in, or that time I sang a solo part for BBC youth choir of the year, or that gig where I only had a few days to learn twenty popular songs on the piano by heart, etc. etc. etc.
It felt a bit like the heartbreak of splitting up with your partner, but with everyone reminding you how great you were together. I tried to salvage the relationship, I really did. I tried going back to why I loved music, playing only music I enjoyed listening to. It didn't work: I put my fingers to the piano keys, and I dutifully played the notes, but that spark just wasn't there any more. Even worse, it felt too much like I was trying to reclaim my 'glory days'. I told myself that I knew from the very beginning that I'd never be a professional musician, and I admitted to myself that I'd never be the admired musician that I once was: those days were behind me. I moved on.
My creative nature, however, was still very much alive. Eventually I discovered my knack with words, and writing became my career. I started baking and decorating cakes as a hobby, discovered felting, started going to the gym and took up Mandarin evening lessons after work. Five years on, I've made good way in finding out who I am without music, having previously believed that music was all that there was to me.
I thought that the story had ended happily enough, until relatively recently.
I began to stumble across musicians and artists who reminded me that music can be fun- for example Pentatonix, who have successfully proved to the world that a capella can be awesome, and Steam Powered Giraffe, who perform as steampunk-style robots. I rediscovered old idols, from Imogen Heap to The Beatles. I started properly listening to music again. I started to sing along.
A few weeks ago, a friend posted on Facebook about a taster ukelele workshop, and something went 'ding' in my mind. I signed myself up, roped another friend in and went to the workshop last week. By the end of it I was smiling so much my face hurt. Yesterday I went to a ukelele shop, tried out a few, and bought one. I also signed myself up to regular group lessons, so I can play music with other people again.
Since since adopting my ukelele yesterday, the only times I've put it down are to bake and update my blogs (and you know, to sleep etc).
After all this time, I think my romance with music may have been rekindled.
Monday, 3 March 2014
More Portioned Up than a Children's Birthday Cake
"Wow that's... really unusual for you. A whole weekend free! It'll be nice for you to actually relax for once."
"Yeah... you and I both know it won't last."
"Probably not, no."
This was a conversation I had with my friend Siu Yen a couple of nights ago, when she asked me what I'd be doing next weekend: we were also planning when out next meeting would be.
My diary is often more or less totally booked out for two months into the future. Every weekend I'm doing at least one thing: meeting up with these friends, seeing a movie with those friends, baking a cake for these guys, having lunch with those guys, and so on. Sometimes I'll have more than one thing going on in the same day, and have to limit my time with one group of people before meeting up with the second group of people (I call this 'speed friending': this doesn't happen often though as it doesn't make for quality get-together times). Now it's started to bleed into my evenings after work, not to mention I have my evening Mandarin classes on Wednesday nights. This pretty much makes me constantly exhausted.
It also makes me very happy.
Back in my school days, I was quite the loner. I was always awkward, quiet, nerdy- just not really able to fit in. When I did have friends, it was only one or two close ones at a time, which were sometimes intense and destructive (as is common when insecure people become too focused and reliant on each other). However, as time went on I got better at the whole making friends thing, and gradually discovered more and more amazing people that I cared about and wanted to keep in my life. The only things that changed were my attitude to myself and life in general.
This fast-paced lifestyle I've gained from hyper-socialising also seems to mean I've gained a weird, restless energy. This weekend one of the things I did was to visit my friend Vicky in Brighton (a fellow efficiently busy person), and at one point she tried to make me sit back into my chair instead of perching on the end of it. I physically managed it, but my efforts only made my friend laugh because apparently I still looked really stiff and awkward. In fact I felt really relaxed in Brighton, away from the shoving elbows and selfishness of London- but apparently my muscles were still tensed for immediate action.
Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. I remember what it's like to feel isolated, and now that I'm lucky enough to know so many amazing people, I'm more than happy to make the effort to give as many people as much of my time as I can. For some people it's not as much as I'd like, but then again there are only so many hours in the day!
I came back from Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium at around half past midnight last night, having visited for the first time as a guest rather than a volunteer since it's official opening on Saturday (it is, by the way, amazing). Once I'd finished posting a few pictures on Facebook, I was just about to go to bed when a message popped up from a friend I haven't seen in a while.
"Are you still in London? It'd be great to meet up again."
And some of my friends still wonder why I try to arrange things so far in advance.
"Yeah... you and I both know it won't last."
"Probably not, no."
This was a conversation I had with my friend Siu Yen a couple of nights ago, when she asked me what I'd be doing next weekend: we were also planning when out next meeting would be.
My diary is often more or less totally booked out for two months into the future. Every weekend I'm doing at least one thing: meeting up with these friends, seeing a movie with those friends, baking a cake for these guys, having lunch with those guys, and so on. Sometimes I'll have more than one thing going on in the same day, and have to limit my time with one group of people before meeting up with the second group of people (I call this 'speed friending': this doesn't happen often though as it doesn't make for quality get-together times). Now it's started to bleed into my evenings after work, not to mention I have my evening Mandarin classes on Wednesday nights. This pretty much makes me constantly exhausted.
It also makes me very happy.
Back in my school days, I was quite the loner. I was always awkward, quiet, nerdy- just not really able to fit in. When I did have friends, it was only one or two close ones at a time, which were sometimes intense and destructive (as is common when insecure people become too focused and reliant on each other). However, as time went on I got better at the whole making friends thing, and gradually discovered more and more amazing people that I cared about and wanted to keep in my life. The only things that changed were my attitude to myself and life in general.
This fast-paced lifestyle I've gained from hyper-socialising also seems to mean I've gained a weird, restless energy. This weekend one of the things I did was to visit my friend Vicky in Brighton (a fellow efficiently busy person), and at one point she tried to make me sit back into my chair instead of perching on the end of it. I physically managed it, but my efforts only made my friend laugh because apparently I still looked really stiff and awkward. In fact I felt really relaxed in Brighton, away from the shoving elbows and selfishness of London- but apparently my muscles were still tensed for immediate action.
Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. I remember what it's like to feel isolated, and now that I'm lucky enough to know so many amazing people, I'm more than happy to make the effort to give as many people as much of my time as I can. For some people it's not as much as I'd like, but then again there are only so many hours in the day!
 |
| A bit of wisdom from Brighton |
"Are you still in London? It'd be great to meet up again."
And some of my friends still wonder why I try to arrange things so far in advance.
Monday, 7 October 2013
I Did It! The Nodojiman Karaoke Contest at Japan Matsuri London
On Saturday I got up there in front of thousands of people and danced and sung Tsukema Tsukeru ('putting on false eyelashes').
It was EPIC.
Even though nerves made my voice go horribly strained and wobbly from trying to escape my throat, I danced by butt off and felt pretty epic. I had an amazing bunch of friends cheering me on, my mum and dad looking on in pride and amusement, and the other amazing contestants lined up behind me cheering and clapping along too. Sadly my voice let me down too much to be in the running for a prize, but I didn't mind at all. The winners were incredible (the winner of the first prize had a truly jaw-dropping voice), and I felt like I had leveled up in life. I got a lot of attention outside the competitions regarding how I'd done my makeup too, which was funny (falsies- of course, rhinestones around my eyes and lots of pink and glitter).
When I posted the video on my Facebook, my friend Ruthie- who I've known since I was at school- commented:
'Wow. had strange moments of remembering how shy you were when we met...and watching this... amazing xxx'
I replied:
'This caterpillar sure turned into one crazy-ass butterfly, huh? xxx'
Honestly, if you'd have known me those thirteen years ago- hell, even as little as three years ago- I'd have never dreamed of getting up on stage in the middle of London and potentially making an utter arse of myself in front of thousands of strangers. Sure I performed all the time on the piano at school concerts all the time and one or two other things, but I always felt secure behind a piano- but even after years of singing, I never liked singing in front of people. But you know what? Saturday felt fantastic. I'm definitely going to practise so I can do a better job next year, if I'm lucky enough to be accepted a second time.
In the meantime, I feel like I'm ready to venture back into music again- I do have a dipABRSM in performance and two additional Grade 8's after all and it would be a shame to let them go to waste... if only I could find a way to squeeze it in between baking, writing and the Mandarin course and Google Analytics course I've recently taken up.
In any case, I turn 26 next weekend. Bring it on, bitches. I'm ready.
It was EPIC.
Even though nerves made my voice go horribly strained and wobbly from trying to escape my throat, I danced by butt off and felt pretty epic. I had an amazing bunch of friends cheering me on, my mum and dad looking on in pride and amusement, and the other amazing contestants lined up behind me cheering and clapping along too. Sadly my voice let me down too much to be in the running for a prize, but I didn't mind at all. The winners were incredible (the winner of the first prize had a truly jaw-dropping voice), and I felt like I had leveled up in life. I got a lot of attention outside the competitions regarding how I'd done my makeup too, which was funny (falsies- of course, rhinestones around my eyes and lots of pink and glitter).
When I posted the video on my Facebook, my friend Ruthie- who I've known since I was at school- commented:
'Wow. had strange moments of remembering how shy you were when we met...and watching this... amazing xxx'
I replied:
'This caterpillar sure turned into one crazy-ass butterfly, huh? xxx'
Honestly, if you'd have known me those thirteen years ago- hell, even as little as three years ago- I'd have never dreamed of getting up on stage in the middle of London and potentially making an utter arse of myself in front of thousands of strangers. Sure I performed all the time on the piano at school concerts all the time and one or two other things, but I always felt secure behind a piano- but even after years of singing, I never liked singing in front of people. But you know what? Saturday felt fantastic. I'm definitely going to practise so I can do a better job next year, if I'm lucky enough to be accepted a second time.
In the meantime, I feel like I'm ready to venture back into music again- I do have a dipABRSM in performance and two additional Grade 8's after all and it would be a shame to let them go to waste... if only I could find a way to squeeze it in between baking, writing and the Mandarin course and Google Analytics course I've recently taken up.
In any case, I turn 26 next weekend. Bring it on, bitches. I'm ready.
Friday, 12 July 2013
In Which Tash Takes a Day Off
Well alright, most of the day off- but it's as close to a full day off as I've had in quite a while.
I've been very, very busy. I work full-time, manage five blogs altogether which involves a lot of baking, photoing and editing, writing and Going Out and Doing Stuff, I have a regular exercise routine, still occasionally try to keep up with music, and I have a very active social life from making sure I give my time to as many friends as possible. One of the downsides of being so busy all the time is that friends have gotten used to having to book me up to two months in advance, but at least my friends are also very understanding.
Recently I've been doing some voluntary online work for the up-and-coming Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium (London's very first cat café), which is super-exciting! Of course it's been a challenge to juggle the mad amount of stuff I already do, but I'm so happy to be able to be part of it in some way, although it does mean that time management has become a fine art.
Which is why maybe it's a bit sad that having a relaxing day is novel enough for me to write about it in The Wacky World of a Weird Girl. In fact, I'm writing this right now as a break before I get back to work.
I booked a day off work today, originally because a friend was coming down from Birmingham to visit, but then she had to go to a medic's function (she's a doctor). I decided to keep the day off instead of cancelling it, because I suddenly realised that actually, I really do need a day to myself.
So this morning after a mini lie-in (but not too much because I prefer being productive), I got up, and started the day by visiting a café I'd always wanted to try out for breakfast (reviewed in one of my other blogs).
I LOVE going into London just after the morning rush hour on a weekday. It's so quiet! I sat outside the café with my coffee and breakfast, and for the first time in months I felt truly relaxed. Note that I don't mean happy- I've been very happy indeed- but it was the first time in a long time I actually sat back in peace and quiet, did nothing and didn't feel guilty about doing nothing. I sat slowly sipping my coffee and nibbling my cake until it was all gone, and sat watching the world go by just for a little longer before I reluctantly got up and continued with my day.
Even though I was reluctant to shift myself from my relaxed spot, I knew I'd enjoy myself at my next destination: Camden Town, one of my favourite places in London. Also another great place to be during those few hours between breakfast and lunch on a weekday.
Camden Town on the weekend- and even during lunchtime on a weekday- is always absolutely rammed. It's a trendy place to be for all ages, is a popular tourist destination, and is just an overall cool place to be. This morning I got the chance to walk around at my leisure, discover new nooks and crannies without being squeezed out of the way by more people, and actually be able to look around without my vision being blocked by bodies.
Whilst I was there, I bought a cup of tea from Yumchaa, and sat on the balcony outside which overlooks the canal and the Camden Lock West Yard world food market. There was still an hour to go before people would start trickling in for lunch, and it was bliss. There was one funny moment when a couple of French tourists walked past me, sitting with my cup of tea, and one said something to her friend like 'Ah, le typique anglaise!', gesturing towards me in a way which she obviously thought was subtle. Yes, yes, we do love our tea here. And I do understand a bit of French, lady.
Sitting there after Relaxation Time Stage 1 earlier in the morning, in view of the canal and the smells of food from all around the world wafting from the market below, colourful bunting for the coming evening's music festival billowing in the gentle wind, with tea in my teacup and a little more left in the teapot- it was zen. There was even a resident friendly kitty cat to play with: perfect.
I was quite sad to leave when lunchtime hit and the zen was broken by the oncoming crowds of people- but I was able to leave my quiet spot outside the tea shop knowing that there was more fun stuff to do, even if relaxation time was over. I had lunch, and headed off home to do continue with work before making dinner for the family.
This weekend I'm back to my old tricks, going out to meet friends and baking and blogging and going to events, and soon the memory of being totally 'at ease' will fade- but one thing I will remember to do is take time off for myself more often: sometimes it feels like I'm so busy making time for other people that I forget to make time for myself. Don't get me wrong: I choose to be busy. It's a way of life I enjoy. However, sometimes I need to be reminded that I need switching-off time to recharge (even if it's only once every two months). I can't wait to be able to have another day off where I can sit with a cup or tea with my favourite place almost all to myself, and literally do nothing else but drink tea, sit and watch the world around me.
In the meantime, I'll try to hang on to that memory of the feeling of zen for as long as possible, before the business of tomorrow and the day after sweep it away.
Anyway. Back to work.
I've been very, very busy. I work full-time, manage five blogs altogether which involves a lot of baking, photoing and editing, writing and Going Out and Doing Stuff, I have a regular exercise routine, still occasionally try to keep up with music, and I have a very active social life from making sure I give my time to as many friends as possible. One of the downsides of being so busy all the time is that friends have gotten used to having to book me up to two months in advance, but at least my friends are also very understanding.
Recently I've been doing some voluntary online work for the up-and-coming Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium (London's very first cat café), which is super-exciting! Of course it's been a challenge to juggle the mad amount of stuff I already do, but I'm so happy to be able to be part of it in some way, although it does mean that time management has become a fine art.
Which is why maybe it's a bit sad that having a relaxing day is novel enough for me to write about it in The Wacky World of a Weird Girl. In fact, I'm writing this right now as a break before I get back to work.
I booked a day off work today, originally because a friend was coming down from Birmingham to visit, but then she had to go to a medic's function (she's a doctor). I decided to keep the day off instead of cancelling it, because I suddenly realised that actually, I really do need a day to myself.
So this morning after a mini lie-in (but not too much because I prefer being productive), I got up, and started the day by visiting a café I'd always wanted to try out for breakfast (reviewed in one of my other blogs).
I LOVE going into London just after the morning rush hour on a weekday. It's so quiet! I sat outside the café with my coffee and breakfast, and for the first time in months I felt truly relaxed. Note that I don't mean happy- I've been very happy indeed- but it was the first time in a long time I actually sat back in peace and quiet, did nothing and didn't feel guilty about doing nothing. I sat slowly sipping my coffee and nibbling my cake until it was all gone, and sat watching the world go by just for a little longer before I reluctantly got up and continued with my day.
Even though I was reluctant to shift myself from my relaxed spot, I knew I'd enjoy myself at my next destination: Camden Town, one of my favourite places in London. Also another great place to be during those few hours between breakfast and lunch on a weekday.
Camden Town on the weekend- and even during lunchtime on a weekday- is always absolutely rammed. It's a trendy place to be for all ages, is a popular tourist destination, and is just an overall cool place to be. This morning I got the chance to walk around at my leisure, discover new nooks and crannies without being squeezed out of the way by more people, and actually be able to look around without my vision being blocked by bodies.
Whilst I was there, I bought a cup of tea from Yumchaa, and sat on the balcony outside which overlooks the canal and the Camden Lock West Yard world food market. There was still an hour to go before people would start trickling in for lunch, and it was bliss. There was one funny moment when a couple of French tourists walked past me, sitting with my cup of tea, and one said something to her friend like 'Ah, le typique anglaise!', gesturing towards me in a way which she obviously thought was subtle. Yes, yes, we do love our tea here. And I do understand a bit of French, lady.
Sitting there after Relaxation Time Stage 1 earlier in the morning, in view of the canal and the smells of food from all around the world wafting from the market below, colourful bunting for the coming evening's music festival billowing in the gentle wind, with tea in my teacup and a little more left in the teapot- it was zen. There was even a resident friendly kitty cat to play with: perfect.
I was quite sad to leave when lunchtime hit and the zen was broken by the oncoming crowds of people- but I was able to leave my quiet spot outside the tea shop knowing that there was more fun stuff to do, even if relaxation time was over. I had lunch, and headed off home to do continue with work before making dinner for the family.
This weekend I'm back to my old tricks, going out to meet friends and baking and blogging and going to events, and soon the memory of being totally 'at ease' will fade- but one thing I will remember to do is take time off for myself more often: sometimes it feels like I'm so busy making time for other people that I forget to make time for myself. Don't get me wrong: I choose to be busy. It's a way of life I enjoy. However, sometimes I need to be reminded that I need switching-off time to recharge (even if it's only once every two months). I can't wait to be able to have another day off where I can sit with a cup or tea with my favourite place almost all to myself, and literally do nothing else but drink tea, sit and watch the world around me.
In the meantime, I'll try to hang on to that memory of the feeling of zen for as long as possible, before the business of tomorrow and the day after sweep it away.
Anyway. Back to work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)