Dreaming Paris

Let me first say I'm not a morning person. This isn't to say that I don't love mornings. I do. I love the feel of them, and I especially love having the whole morning to get things done. I'm at my best then and accomplish many things around the house on the days when I'm not teaching. If I get up early. Which is rare. Because I'm not a morning person.

Somehow my biological time mechanism that humans are supposed to have, that one that, were we to not have clocks and the ability to go against nature with our artificial lights, kicks in and tells us, it's dark-go to sleep, it's light-wake up, has never worked properly. No matter how early I go to bed, my body's preferred wake up time is 10 or 11 am. In order for me to feel well, I must sleep at least 8 hours, preferably 9, but I'll sleep 12 or 13 if I don't use an alarm. I read in a few places that people who sleep as long as I like to sleep don't live as long, but I often wondered if it counts when you've lived a life that requires you only sleep 6-8 hours because you must get up for work. Is it what your body craves or what you actually make it do that determines these things, because if it's what I've made it do, I'm safe, I should live a good long life, at least based on my length of sleep because even though I'd love to sleep 12 to 13 hours every night, I actually don't. I like to sleep. But I don't like going to bed.

I will stay up well beyond time to go to sleep, even if I'm tired. I used to read late into the night, now I'm on the internet. Part of the reason for that is that at night it's usually quiet. It's the one time in my life where I can feel like I'm alone. I need that. Living with other people distresses me. I would be perfectly content living alone. When I say that to friends who are alone they tell me, no, you wouldn't. Be glad of what you have. Well, I am glad, but the fact remains that living with people distresses me. I KNOW that I would be perfectly content living by myself. Not as a hermit of course. I need people. But I need that alone time, too. And I can tell you that I know I'd like it because I've done it, and it was wonderful.

Well, as I said, I'm not a morning person, so waking up is never a good thing for me. I'm used to the icky feelings I have when I open my eyes and realize that I have to get up. But this morning was different. I could tell that my internal pharmacist had mixed my brain and body chemicals in the wrong proportions. This was not the normal ickies. This was my day of regret, the day when the consequences of my actions would come to roost.

Ever since I cut out sugar as much as possible from my diet I've had fewer days of depression. I've felt more myself. Adding whole grains, nuts, fruits and vegetables in greater quantities brings my mind to its usual upbeat, positive state. Adding exercise gives me an almost high. You'd think I'd make a habit, then, of all those things that I know will make me feel good, but I'm sorry, vegetables and exercise simply aren't as pleasurable as a slice of cheesecake with blackberry topping. IT JUST ISN'T! So sometimes I fall off the wagon. I crave the sugary goodness and just can't say no, even though I know I'll regret it. As I'm regretting it today.

Tears, anger, impatience, frustration, they have made their home in me today. Ugh.

Those who have been following my blogging history will recall the name from my title. I was born on a Tuesday, and according to the poem, "Tuesday's child is full of grace." I learned that poem when I was very young, and it was a source of amusement to me that I was never a very graceful person. I trip, I spill, I run into things. When I delved deeper into Christian things, I understood grace differently and that line became more meaningful to me. It's silly to allow things that have nothing to do with one at all to become part of one's framework for developing one's character but that's how it is with me. I held grace closely, it was mine, part of who I was because I identified with the Tuesday's child of the poem.

My name means a pledge, so loyalty, too, defined me. Whatever else I am, or am not, I remain loyal to the people I love. That's different in my way of thinking than being faithful. A faithful person is the kind who can maintain all the details and niceties of a relationship. They call you up, they remember your birthday, they develop the relationship, they're mindful of hurting your feelings. I'm afraid that I'm not that person. I can do those things, but they'll come out of the blue after a long time of nothing because I'll be thinking of you and want to do something nice because I DO love you. I'm not good at the faithfulness of relationships. But I am loyal in the sense that I will always love you. If you call on me, I'll be right there. If someone disses you, I'll defend you. If you get down on yourself I'll do what I can to lift you up. All because I discovered when I was young that my name means a pledge, so I feel that if I've given my friendship or my love, you should be able to count on that as you would someone's word of honor.

Silly, isn't it, these notions that we take into our heads? I know that I've let people down along the way, even the ones most dear to me. So maybe they don't see me as I see me. As I get older, though, I'm finding it (somewhat) easier to see myself as I really am, though I still want to hold on to those romantic notions of myself. And as I see myself as I really am, I'm learning to accept me as well, to live according to what I am, not as what I want to be. I don't always succeed. And sometimes I get confused. But I have to say that I like being in my 50s much better than I thought I would. I feel a freedom I didn't used to feel. The age isn't a problem to me. My body is, though.

When I was younger I had this notion that I would be someone who would grow old gracefully. I liked the idea of that. Ha! As I felt age overtaking me I started fighting it tooth and nail, but it can't be beat, only camouflaged somewhat with dyes and creams.

I got here too fast. And I barely get a chance to get used to one change before another takes place, and unlike in our teen years, these aren't pleasant changes at all. I still wish I could be someone who could age gracefully, with calm and wisdom, that I could move into this new phase of life with confidence and a chuckle at how seriously I took it all.

Even so, I like where I am. I may whine about the physical things taking place in my body, but this is a good time of my life, quite like no other. It has its ups and downs, its confusions and disappointments, but I'm living it like I've never lived before, more fully, more openly, more as myself rather than as someone I thought I was supposed to be. It would be nice, though, if I could have brought my 20 year old body with me to do the living in.

Note: This was originally started as a comment to a blog post by Father Luke, but as it got longer I decided to develop it further and turn it into a blog post of my own.

Haven't even been very active on FB. But I thought I'd post a health update. I've now lost a total of ten pounds since I changed how I eat. I've also been incorporating more activity, though still not a regular routine. But I feel better overall. Still have those downer days, but they're manageable. I think I'll do even better now that the holidays, along with getting back into the swing of things after the holidays, are over. I did binge a bit during and after, but not so much that I gained anything, which surprised me! I managed to maintain, and then finally begin losing again. So. I'm teaching 4 classes this semester and keeping busy with house stuff, painting (yes, I'm painting pictures again!), going to French meetups and art events, and the general everyday things that keep one busy. But not so busy that I can't relax, which is what I'm soaking up.

6 pounds in the last month. It's not as good as I'd hoped, but I guess the older I get, the more difficult it is for the pounds to come off. Anyway, I'm doing good. No falling off the wagon or even the desire to.

So I got tagged by Paula in a discussion over on Facebook about whether or not online friends are "real" friends. Or whether or not you treat people online like you do the ones in "real" life. I loved it when the term "meatspace" came into being to differentiate between the two groups. You had your online friends and meatspace friends. Who came up with that anyway? Both Nancy and Paula come to mind when I hear that term, as though it was one of them who coined it, but I really don't know. Maybe they were the first ones I saw use it. They're both clever enough to have been the originators. Way, way in the beginning of my online life, when I first dipped my toes in the waters of chat rooms and newsgroups, I was myself, but more so. Meaning, I was very direct and blunt. Until I saw the reactions. When I finally found the newsgroup misc.writing (which is a sad, sad place these days-I just checked 2 days ago), I was a bit more diplomatic. I could mull over my words and delete them before hitting send, something you can't do when looking someone in the eye. So I'm now actually the reverse of what peeps say you become when you get online. When you're with me, though I don't mean to because I like being nice to people, I'm more likely to blurt out something very tactless, or thoughtless, than when you talk to me in text. But in both places I tend to not have much to say for long periods of time, and then suddenly I become motor mouth/fingers. As for which of my friends are the real ones, the online or the meatspace, well, there is no differentiation. They're all real if I call them friend. Some of the people I've actually met are dear to my heart, while others are just close acquaintances. Same with the people I know online. And actually, some of the people online may not be dear friends in that there is no close, ongoing relationship happening, but many of them are still dear to my heart, probably because I've interacted with them for more years than I've actually interacted with the people I've met. They're more a part of my life than the ones I get together with from time to time...or year to year...or decade to decade. Because I live a large percentage of my life online, through words, reading them and writing them. It suits me. I think that right there is why there is even an argument about what's real and what isn't. I know that there are many people for whom this online life just wouldn't suit, and they're not going to understand how one can feel just as close, and care just as much, for people they've never even met than for ones that they have. I'm a shy person until I begin to feel comfortable in my surroundings or in my role. I'm not outgoing. I'm an introvert. But that doesn't mean I don't like being social, or that I don't want to be with people. But people can tire me out quite easily. So this online world works for me. When I need companionship, I can find it. When I need to feel a part of other people, you're all right there for me at the touch of my on button. And when I'm tired and want to be alone, I can be. I don't have to make my excuses and say goodbye. So, if you all aren't real, those of you I haven't met yet, don't tell me. I don't wanna know.