Is There A Connection? Other Than A Birthday, Of Course.

Two days ago I had little trouble remembering small items. Like clocking in and out on the timekeeping software at work.

BOOM! Have a birthday and consistency went flying - straight out the window. Now I'm wondering if it will ever be seen again. The posse is out looking for it but, I don't know.

I forgot to clock in yesterday. Which I do from time-to-time. It's not regular. Usually not even once a week. Until this morning. When I forgot, again.

It's not like I'm new to this. I've been using timekeeping software here and other places for the past ten years, or so, and the only thing that changed was a mark in time. Are they related? God, I hope not. If they are, if the change in my odometer is the cause, or I'm in real trouble.

Little things like this bother me. Can you tell? There was the coffee incident a few weeks ago when I opened the canister of coffee and put the lid down where I regularly put it down, then couldn't find it again to save my life. The weird thing about that was when I got home and hubby said he had found it - exactly where I thought it should be, only it hadn't been. I blamed a poltergeist, but still wondered if I was losing my mind.

Now there's the timekeeping issue. It's a small thing, really, but is it a portent of bigger, uglier things to come? I hope not. I don't need this. After all, I'm only thirty-two. I am. My picture looks older than that, but I've decided to distill age down to birthdays via algebra.

A(C-B/R)

A = Attitude and I have decided I'm thirty-two. Young enough to have fun and be silly and so on, but old enough to avoid most of the pain and embarrassing stupidity I created for myself in my twenties.

C-B = Birth Year subtracted from Current Calendar Year (that gives your chronological state).

Divide that by R - your Real Chronological state. Since the result of C-B and R should be the same, that's like dividing 2 and 2 or 90 and 90 or... You get the picture. The result will be 1.

So, in my case, it's 32x1 = 32. So, I'm thirty-two and will be until I decide otherwise.

What's causing me head scratching now, though, is that I wasn't particularly forgetful or prone to losing things in my thirties. I wasn't particularly forgetful or prone to lose things up until two days ago.

Sure, I had the occasional miss, but it wasn't consistent. Like coffee lids and timekeeping misses and so on.

Hmm. Nope. Not going to adjust the attitude. I'll just pay closer attention. Not quite to the stage of leaving notes around for myself. After all, I haven't misplaced the coffee lid since that one time, and nothing Earth shattering resulted from that. I did put the remote for the ceiling fan down in a strange place and we hunted for it, but I found it without too much difficulty. I'd just left it on the mantel while I closed the window one evening.

I guess it's just the occasional one-off experience of life and living. And I'm busier than I've been, so I have more on my mind. Yeah... There's a good excuse. I'll borrow that.

Good thing that's solved. I'll just pretend all is well and not pay attention to missing my timekeeping issues which, to give myself credit, are only in the morning when I first arrive.

Oh, wait. Maybe there is something wrong, after all. Maybe I like my job too well and am too excited to get started... Hmm. Is there a solution for that? I'll have to think about it.

In the meantime, I hope you don't suffer from memory lapses or head scratching. I hope your day is perfectly wonderful, otherwise, just attribute it to Wabi-Sabi, which I think I will do!

Best~
Philippa

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Wabi-sabi = It's Okay To Be Not Quite Right

I’m a perfectionist. I admit it. I don’t like it when I do things, write things that have mistakes in them. Spelling errors make me crazy. Grammar, too, because it just isn’t supposed to be like that. It bothers me so I fret. I fret until I fix it and it still bothers me.

I know, I know. Get over it because life is too short and I have a long way to go before I get to where I want to be. The Nirvana of Perfection.

Yesterday I was admiring my handicraft. One of my blog posts. It’s egotistical, perhaps, but I enjoy writing and I’m always looking to improve so I went back and looked. What did I talk about? Did I say it well or is it… Gah!!! Typos – several, as in more than one – CRAP!!

I hate that.

I fixed them, and the labels. One was wrong, entirely, because I started writing and then changed my mind about what I wanted to say, so it needed fixing. I fixed it. It’s what I do. It seems to be what I live for – finding mistakes and fixing them.

And that brings to mind the different views in everything.

When I write my posts I do go back and check them before I post them. Did I say what I wanted to say? Are there *gasp* typos? Etc. I find things, usually after it’s been posted.

Perhaps that’s the problem, I don’t let it settle. I re-read it while it’s still fresh and I remember ‘yes, that’s what I said and, yes, that’s how I want to say it’. So my brain doesn’t really engage with my eyes. Until I let it rest, and then I see what I should have seen and then I have to fix it.

Live and learn, it’s the way of things.

For the past few weeks I’ve been trying to get a running start at my posts so I’m not up against the clock when I want to post it. That, in theory, should allow time for the words to settle and for my brain to refresh so my eyes see what’s wrong before I put it up.

Unfortunately, you know that road? Yeah – that one, the one paved with Good Intentions.  I’m on it. I’m on it so much I’m wearing a rut down the middle as I slip and slide and scramble in my efforts to climb back to the top.

No matter how much I intend to get it done beforehand, it’s almost always a struggle first thing in the morning, before I head to work. Then I wait impatiently for my lunch hour so I can post it. If I’m lucky, if the words flow readily and without too many hang-ups with spelling errors caught while I go, I might get it posted before leaving for the day, but not as often as I would like. So I rush, and I leave bobbles behind.

I do have spell check on, but Word has an annoying habit of fixing things – often wrong. If I type one thing that’s similar to another, Word tries to be helpful. It replaces the wrong word that meant ‘this’ with the correctly spelled word which means ‘that’. Since it’s not underlined in red or green (spelling or grammar), I miss it. Then I discover it after the fact, after it’s been set loose on my readers.

It’s annoying. Not seriously so, but enough because I do try to get it right the first time.

Well, it’s room for improvement, right? Besides, I like the Japanese take on it.

I remember reading something a long time ago. It mighthave been in one of James Clavell’s books, but it might have been somewhere else, too. Anyway, it was about a Japanese gardener who would get the entire garden absolutely perfect, except for one tiny deliberate flaw. Perhaps it was a stray leaf left behind, or a not quite straight line in the raked sand.

It was his way of not angering the gods. After all, he’s human and not perfect. Gathering that stray leaf or having the perfectly straight lines in the sand would make it ‘perfect’. It would be presumptuous and the gods might not like it.

The Japanese even have a philosophy based on this idea. It’s wabi-sabi and if you Google
“imperfection in Japanese” you’ll get a whole list on the wabi-sabi philosophy. It’s the art of finding beauty in imperfection, embracing what’s natural, flaws and all.

I like that because Heaven knows I’m imperfect. It’s something I’m trying to overcome, but I still have a long way to go before I leave that rut in that road that’s paved with good intentions.

Thinking more about it, I like it a lot. Wabi-sabi. It even sounds good, it's pleasant. Wabi-sabi. Hmm. Add to the lexicon, seeking future use.

After all, how often does one meet or see or generate perfection? By accepting the imperfect, it takes the pressure off. It makes it easier to live without worrying over the itty bitty tiny stuff that we get hung up on, like garbled phrases and typos.

In the overall scheme of life and living, worrying about minutiae is a waste of time and energy. I guess that means I need to give myself permission to not worry about the gargled frazes and tiepohs quite to much. If they escape and rampage through my writing, I'll try to shrug an accept. I'll have reason to knowingly say 'wabi-sabi'. Heck, that, in and of itself, makes the imperfection worthwhile.

Done, permission granted, decision made. I will not worry about gnat specks in my life. Wabi-sabi.

On the other hand, I will be careful. I will pay closer attention as I go, but if I find a mistake that’s not too egregious after it’s been made, I’ll try to let it go and simply remind myself to do better next time. We’ll see how long that lasts, but all I can do is try.

Of course there is one realm where I cannot let that go, and that is in my books. Nothing drives me crazy faster than picking up a book and spotting a typo. Then, for however many pages are left, I don’t see the story. I’m looking for mistakes. It’s like bone in a fish. Find one and it ruins the entire thing.

I really do have to get this under control, but not with my books. Which, I guess, sends me right back into the middle of the road… Rats.

Oh well, you have a lovely and not-quite-perfect day (nothing too bad, though)! I’m going to go pick at my mistkaes. Ohh, wabi-sabi!

Best~

Philippa

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