Memories are a mixed bag emotionally. Often memories are enjoyable – a walk through a time passed.  Sometimes bittersweet, as I am finding as I navigate loss in my life. Sometimes outright painful and jarring.

My Dad is still alive but his memory is gone. He has no idea who I am.  We live 1000+ miles apart and haven’t seen each other in person for about 20 years (super long story).  We were never very close (he left my Mom shortly after they started the process of adopting me… again, long story) and I’d go visit him in the summer. Inevitably, what was supposed to be a week or 2 visit with him typically ended in 3-4 days when he’d drive me to my grandparent’s house (his parents) and drop me off. (I was always scheduled to visit the grandparents on those visits, I was just always supposed to spend time with my Dad first).  So, I’ve always sortve felt that I was nothing but an inconvenience to my Dad.  There are a few nice memories, but honestly, most memories I have of my Dad aren’t that great.

I try not to dwell on the less-than-stellar memories. I’ve forgotten (mostly on purpose) big chunks of my childhood. I’m pretty sure I spent a lot of my teen years dissociating and frankly things were awful enough that I don’t WANT to remember most of my teen years.  I was not a popular kid. High School was pretty much a nightmare. I was hardcore bullied for most of it. My Mom used to accuse me of being “weird on purpose”.  I wasn’t TRYING to be an outcast.  I had undiagnosed (at the time) Social Anxiety.  When, later in life, I got some of my mental health issues acknowledged, my teen years made a LOT more sense to me.

And there are some people that I just want to remember the best bits about. I want to remember the times that I felt loved and cared about.  I look at the bits and pieces of things I saved to remind me of those times and find myself hoping that, at the time those things were said that they were true – even if, after the fact, I’ve found that the other person never really cared the way I had thought that they did. (I apparently have no ability to discern whether someone is  a true friend. This has been proven time and time again).

I’ll end with a fond memory. I dated a guy when I was in High School who carved something for me. It took him HOURS. It was rough and imperfect, but the time and effort put into it made it one of the most precious gifts I have ever received.  I still have it.  I know that MOST people would have discarded it after the breakup. I know that MOST people certainly would have gotten rid of it at some point as the years wore on.  But it is one of my most prized possessions. It reminds me that at least once in my life, someone cared enough to spend hours of their life creating something for me. It sparks good memories and for that, I am grateful.

One of my favourite sayings is “Patience is a virtue… it just doesn’t happen to be one of MY virtues”.  Which isn’t ENTIRELY true. There are a great many things that I am patient about. Arguably, I am way too patient with people I care about who do not always show me the grace and compassion that I show them.  I learned a long time ago that expecting people to treat me the way that I treat them isn’t terribly realistic. Intellectually I know that setting oneself on fire to keep other people warm isn’t a good thing and honestly, isn’t even a particularly admirable thing, but that doesn’t stop me from doing so on the regular.

I am impatient with things like applications of any sort. Waiting days, sometimes weeks, to learn whether you’ve been approved or rejected has to be one my absolute biggest areas of impatience. Waiting in line? Not a fan.  Waiting for approval to move a project forward? Maddening.

When I lived in The Frozen Tundra it was typical for it to take up to 9 weeks for an apartment application to be approved.  This is problematic when you need to give 60 days notice but might have to wait longer than that for the approval to come through. What happens if you give notice where you live and then find out at the last minute that the place you had applied decided that they aren’t going to accept you?  You then have to begin the entire approval process over again which is potentially another 6+ weeks. Meanwhile, the place you have given notice to has likely filled your spot, so where do you go?

So, if I think about it, I am actually impatient primarily in situations where inefficiency is a key factor. I want people to have processes in place that actually work and work quickly.  Having worked in a couple of different jobs where pulling background checks and credit reports was part of the job, those things typically take 3 business days at most. There is no good reason to make someone wait 6 weeks for your decision.

And don’t et me started on applying for jobs and having it become a three month, five interview process. It’s ridiculous and shows that you have an inefficient process.

What makes you impatient?

Recently, I’ve been playing a game called “Let’s Build a Zoo”.  It’s a pretty simple concept…you build a zoo. You have to manage not only animals, but all of the infrastructure, as well.  You build habitats to best house the animals that you have. You can add enrichment to the habitats and you can trade with other zoos to get animals.

I had seen a meme the other day where someone mentioned that they started calling ordering things from Amazon  as “procuring enrichment for their habitat”.  Which made me laugh.

I’m probably an overachiever in the “habitat enrichment” game.  But my home office is definitely my happy place. While it is where I work, it is also the place where I have many items that I love dearly. If I had to pick one room in my apartment that is my favourite, it would DEFINITELY be my office.  My office is definitely what I consider to be my primary habitat.

Interesting (?) side note. I have mild OCD.  This shows up for me as being absolutely unable to work when things are cluttered. If I can see the clutter from where I am working, it’s virtually impossible for me to work on anything until the clutter is taken care of.  Sometimes I can get away with just moving things out of my line of sight but most of the time, I have to completely take care of the issue and then I can get things done.  I hate that that is the way that my brain works, but it’s the way things are and I just have to deal with it.

It throws me off completely when I go and visit my Mom and work in her “den”.  I love a lot of things about that space (built in desk and bookshelf) but I usually end up tidying up her space. I’m sure she is a little annoyed but she has never complained.

I’ve never really understood earlybirds (aka “morning people”).

I’ve been a nightowl my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are being awake in bed, staring at the ceiling or the walls. I’ve never really been able to sleep before midnight. Even when I was working corporate jobs and had to be at work at 7AM (which generally meant that I needed to be up around 5AM),  I wasn’t able to sleep before midnight.

I’ve tried so many “tricks” and “tips” trying to be an earlybird.  Trying to be one of those people who could just greet the day cheerfully and effortlessly get up early in the morning. But, nothing ever worked and I struggled for my entire corporate career. I spent years being chronically exhausted.  Most days by the time the end of the workday came around, I was ready to go to bed, but I always had things I needed to take care of when I got home.  Meals to prepare, cleaning to do, bills to pay, things to take care of… It seemed that the list of things to be done was never ending.

Since I’ve been self-employed, I set my own schedule for the most part. Every now and then I will have an early meeting or some obligation early in the morning but for the most part, I’m in charge of my schedule, so I don’t have to get up early.  This has been somewhat complicated recently by a change in the schedule of someone I do support for, but at least I don’t have to be up at 5AM anymore (to be fair… most days I AM up at 5AM, but that’s because I am STILL up, not that I have gotten up at that time).

But, I am much happier being able to live my life as the nightowl I am meant to be.  I refuse to buy into the societal “norm” that there is some moral “goodness” to being a morning person. I can guarantee that I am not “lazy” because I have a different sleep schedule.

I have a lot of projects that I am working on. Some personal projects, many professional projects.  And the queue of things that I would like to do is pretty overwhelming. And many times those things turn into lists of things that I feel that I SHOULD do.  And I’ll just note that “should” can be a horrible feeling.

Focus is definitely an issue for me. I tend to get distracted quite easily. Even if I am in the middle of something that I want or need to do, my mind will suddenly snap to an unrelated thing and then I am off down various rabbitholes and it can be minutes to days before I get back to the original thing that I was working on.

I have, over the years, tried many things to try and improve my focus. It seems to have very little to do with how interested I am in whatever I am working on. Setting timers doesn’t work. Music or other ambient noise designed to stimulate focus don’t work. And even in the course of the few sentences I’ve got here so far… I’ve done about 6 other side things.  I’m not proud of that, but it’s just the way things work out.

This “easily distracted” thing is a primary reason I don’t like to work hourly. Because I end up having to turn timers on and off and I forget to do that so then I end up having to estimate and it’s a nightmare and I would rather just work flat rate.  That way I don’t need to worry about switching timers on and off, can get distracted and come back to things and continue working and as long as I get the work completed (which I do), everyone is happy.  Is it the most efficient way? Certainly not. But the end result is that I do actually complete things.

I managed to get this post written.. so, you see, I DO actually get things done. But sometimes getting things done is a bit of a journey.

I honestly don’t remember if this is the second or third time that I have had to start a blog over again. I know it is AT LEAST the second time.

I lost one because it had been privately hosted until one day it wasn’t.  You see, for about 4 years there was someone I knew through the blogging community who had hosted my website. Which was lovely because hosting is expensive and cash flow is somewhat of an ongoing issue.  So, to score free hosting was huge. I didn’t know a lot about the person who was doing the hosting, but I considered them a friend.

Then, one morning I tried to get to my blog and got an error. I couldn’t log into my CPanel, either.  I reached out to the friend who had been providing my hosting.  Never heard back from them. So, even though I eventually procured hosting (which at this point wasn’t JUST for my blog, my professional website had been hosted through them, as well) I had no way to access ANY of the content from either site. Years of blog posts – GONE.  To this day I have no idea WHY the sudden end to the hosting and to the friendship.  Maybe it was just another one of those times when I felt someone was a friend and found out (very painfully) otherwise.

So, I started over again. And had several years of blog posts. And then there was an issue. I contacted the hosting company and told it wasn’t an issue on their end and that I’d need to completely reinstall WordPress. Which I did.  Went to restore from my backup and found that the file hadn’t saved correctly. Couldn’t even reinstall WordPress. After 3 days hosting company said “Oops, there had been a database problem on our end. You sites should be fine.  My professional website was able to be restored. My blog, though, was lost… again.  Years worth of entries, including multiple years of A-to-Z blogging challenge posts – gone forever.

And so, here I am, beginning again.