Sunday, 1 February 2009
Never too old
After a houseful of weekend visitors, I am having a quiet blogging day, assessing my thoughts: because it is the first of February and that seems a good time to think about all those new year resolutions I might have made but didn’t because I would instantly have felt guilty at breaking them on day one. By now, I'm well into the swing of a new year (beyond that limbo time when the clock seems to go crazy for two weeks ‘holiday’ and I actually stop or procrastinate over what I should be doing), and I can see my way forward, or think I can. Little did I expect that I would get drawn into the exciting world of online journaling, nor meet so many kindred spirits, nor come to feel that I am learning, step-by-step to be a part of all this. How to fit it all in? How to keep track of everyone who visits my blogs so as not to hurt feelings when I delay a response?
And so I have my ‘commonplace’ book at my side, in which I list tasks and ideas, a fortnight at a time. Gradually some things are ‘ticked’ which means they have been started, some are crossed out (completed) and others obviously do not reach the top of the list for they get transferred to the next two pages. And so on. If I am continually shunting stuff forward, I ask myself ‘why?’. Is it not important, or do I expect of myself more than I can physically accomplish?
My list for February is as follows (not including usual household chores): move forward with the next area of the garden reclamation – greenhouse and surrounding patch, and create an online garden newsletter (already begun); plan how I would like to alter our kitchen, if my dear Raymond will agree (!); de-clutter my workroom (shared with the laundry); undertake short- and long-term research needed for forthcoming writing commissions; continue my new visual journal begun on 1st January and not touched since Jan 6th; sort and arrange a tray full of ‘blog’ notes; collect into one place all my unfinished journal projects and list them, even do some work on them; prepare promotional literature for forthcoming trade shows to showcase my ‘capabilities’; continue the book I promised myself I would write ‘one day’ – my ‘deferred dream’; start to learn HTML.
HTML is the newest aspect needing attention. I am so infuriated with myself for not being able to manipulate my blog entries as I would like, so I have decided it is time to learn a bit about it. I have therefore just bought a self-help book (‘SAMS Teach Yourself HTML and CSS’ – in 24 hours !!!) and am heartened by the fact that it isn’t complete gobbledegook. It put me in mind of the numerous occasions throughout life when something that at first seemed incomprehensible or completely unachievable is in fact perfectly possible. And one is never too old to learn.
I recalled that magic moment when, aged 5, I sat on the stairs, book in hand, staring at the page; and suddenly all those black shapes MEANT SOMETHING: a-n-d equals 'and' .... I could read! Total bewilderment until everything eventually (hopefully) falls into place – learning to knit and crochet, to stitch a fine seam, to write, to walk on my hands right round the swimming pool (why?); to ride a bicycle, drive a car, fly an aeroplane (oh that euphoric moment when it didn’t fall out of the sky, and whilst not actually accomplishing a pirouette in the air came back to reality with a gentle, kiss-the-earth touchdown). And so we go on through life, sometimes a steep learning curve, often wondering (in my case) how I could possibly be so stupid, so cack-handed.
You will see, dear reader and fellow-blogger, if you continue to follow my blogs and website, as to whether I do actually manage to master HTML; my blog presentation will improve. Pics in this posting show one of my blog entries in HTML code (I did a screen-grab) and the tray of blog-possibility scribblings that have accumulated over the last month; I shall do a cut-and-paste with those; probably the easiest of all my February tasks.
Full circle: I apologise again to anyone whose kindly-left comments appear to be ignored, or whose blog I forget to react to; it is not intentional. If you were visiting here for real, you would be offered a seat by the fire, a cup of tea or coffee (or a glass of wine) and one of my home-made flapjacks. I am sure we would have much to chat about, much to share and enjoy.