Good morning, Readers,

Album cover for Ruin by The Amazing Devil

Many of you know how incredibly necessary to my life music is. I'm always keeping out an ear for something new and interesting. I stumbled across this latest obsession quite serendipitously.

A couple of weeks ago, there were a flurry of tweets following the release of the second season of the popular show The Witcher. Of course I've watched it. One of the highlights of the show is Jaskier, the comedic foil to Cavill's straight man, Geralt of Rivia. Perfectly portrayed by Joey Batey, I've long loved his voice as it is revealed on the show. Of the soundtracks to The Witcher, it's Mr. Batey's songs that get the most play on my phone.

Anyway, these flurry of tweets was for a band called The Amazing Devil - fronted by everyone's favourite bard, Joey Batey, and Madeleine Hyland. Intrigued, I looked up their stuff on YouTube, and I immediately fell in love.

As it turns out, they have a brand new album release: Ruin.

I'm no expert, but the best I can guess is that there's a modern folk band. And they're spectacular. Both Joey and Madeleine have remarkable voices that pierce right through the core. The lyrics are stunning. I've cried more than once listening to their music since discovering it last week. It all hits just so.

As for Ruin, there isn't a single song on there that I do not at least like. I really do recommend you listen to the whole album, but there are three that are absolutely standout pieces for me. I've embedded them below.

The first, The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace​, is the longest of the three and shifts through moods perfectly. This is the song for those times you've reached the absolute limit (note, that I was contemplating putting Blossoms in its place. It really was a toss-up between the two).

Next of the three is Inkpot Gods​, which was my favourite for a flash. It's defiant and affirming and sad, and just... Well, I'll let you see for yourself.

And my absolute favourite, The Calling. It's been on repeat for days. This is the song pulls at the primal part of myself. It has stopped me in my tracks more than once, even though I know it extremely well by this point.

A special mention should go to A Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious for sheer relatability.

It has been a long while since I've been so excited about a new musical discovery, and I just had to share. I highly recommend listening to the whole album. It's really is art.

Right, I have work and stuff to do. I shall see you next week, hopefully.

​Ciao!

Good morning, Readers

Image by Engin_Akyurt on Pixabay.

I’m writing this at the end of the fasting attempt, because I cannot and will not deal with folks’ opinion on the matter. I’ve researched and decided, and it’s done now, so save it. I decided to experiment a little with a protracted fast; specifically, a seven day water fast (with some changes). I’ve been eating like crap for the past month and a little bit, and I was feeling it. Covid also did a number on my digestion, and it left me struggling a bit. I felt bloated, sluggish and things weren’t working as they should.

I needed a hard reset.

So, after a lot of reading and thinking, I decided to do a seven day water fast.

Sort of. By sort of, I mean that I didn’t give up my caffeine. If I do this again, I think I’ll wean myself off caffeine for a few weeks before the fast, but as it was, I was not confident that I could deal with removing both food and caffeine at the same time. Thankfully, in my research, it was mentioned that black coffee and tea were permissible. It technically isn’t a true water fast, but near enough that the results would likely be the same. So, coffee and tea it was; but only in the morning. I drank water the rest of the time.

Since I’m experimenting here, I figured I’d keep a running journal of the experience. So here it is in full. My attempt at a seven day water fast(ish).

Last Meal: Burger and fries at 3:30pm (thank you, The Works), Saturday Jan 1.
Break Fast: Bone broth and bread at 4:30pm, Saturday Jan 7.

Sunday, 2 Jan, Day 1: Hunger pangs are quite pronounced, starting around midday. Drank water to try and quell them some. It was largely ineffective, but not entirely. Felt cold the whole day, except in the morning, when I could have my coffee. The hot shower in the evening felt fan-frickin-tastic, though.

Monday, 3 Jan, Day 2: This is supposed to be the worst day. And it was. Holy hell hunger pangs can be quite painful. Mind you, they did die down when I hit the times outside my usual eating hours. Water did not help, though I did try to keep up with drinking a lot of water, since I wasn’t getting any from my food at this point.

Tuesday, 4 Jan, Day 3: The hunger pangs disappeared into background noise by day 3. It was no more pressing than the period between breakfast and lunch. Water helped a lot in controlling them. I started to feel a little off and remembered that I needed electrolytes, and so ate a pinch of salt. That fixed it, but gave me a cramp in my left calf that lasted the whole day. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable to note.

Wednesday, 5 Jan, Day 4: This is usually the day that the brain fog and fatigue start to lift. That was not my experience. Mind you, I didn’t really feel any increased brain fog and fatigue. It generally stayed at the level it usually is. Fasting doesn’t cure depression and its symptoms, evidentially. Interestingly, there wasn’t any change in my general mood. The things that usually annoyed me still annoyed me, and not by any greater measure.

Thursday, 6 Jan, Day 5: Nothing really changed. Everything is more or less the same as before. I did find that I was more tired in the evening, and absolutely had to get to bed by 10:30. Also, I began to feel funny again, so went with another pinch of salt. That fixed it within the hour. I got a little bitter that I was denied the clearer mind and increased energy that so many of the case studies promised.

Friday, 7 Jan, Day 6: No alcohol with my Friday night live stream, as I usually do. Man, that was sad. Had green tea instead. It’s less fun. The hunger pangs started to get intense again around the middle of the afternoon, but died down with increased water intake. Very tired after my stream, so I went right to bed.

Saturday, 8 Jan, Day 7: I fucking made it. Broke the fast in the evening at 4:30pm with bone broth with onion and garlic and a piece of bread. My stomach took the reintroduction of food very well, so I followed that up half an hour later with smoked salmon and cream cheese on rice cakes. I gave my stomach another hour to see how it would do, and there were no weird things happening, so I went ahead and had a full dinner - rib steak with parsnips and buttered peas, and a small glass of red wine. It was lovely.

Sunday, 9 Jan: Returned to my regular eating pattern, which this week includes a lot of salmon, apparently. Breakfast was smoked salmon and cream cheese on rice cakes, a nectarine and yogurt, and coffee and milk. Lunch was pan-seared salmon with buttered peas (and holy hell did I do a good job with the salmon) and a small glass of wine. Dinner was salmon and cream cheese again. The smoked salmon was open and I really needed to finish it. That’s alright, I rather like salmon, smoked or otherwise.

The results: I didn’t bother to weigh myself or measure myself. This was not a weight loss thing, so if you came hoping for reporting on that front, I’m sorry. I just wanted a reset on my troubled tummy. So far, so good. The aches and weirdness that prompted me to do this seemed to have been resolved. This morning, after the posting of the blog, I’m introducing tougher to digest foods (oats, nuts etc), so we’ll see how it goes, but I reckon it’ll all be good.

I’m a still a little bitter that the clear mind and increased energy didn’t really happen for me, but the nonsense going on with an abused digestive system seems to have been fixed, so all up, I think it was a success. Would I do it again?

Well, it wasn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be, so perhaps I shall make it a yearly thing, depending on what’s going on with my tummy. Perhaps next time I’ll get that clarity and energy (psht).

Good morning, Readers!

Image courtesy of qimono on pixabay.com

I’m not going to recount my New Years resolutions; mostly because I have no idea if I even made any for 2021, and I certainly did not hit them in any case. I made it out of last year alive (as of the writing of this, which is right at the end of 2021. Presumably I didn’t encounter some disaster before this post is scheduled to publish… but I’m not counting it out entirely, to be honest).

That said, while I have the strength to dream about the future as of this minute, I am going to try and set myself some goals for this year that I’m keen to hit. I’ll also add a dream or two that currently look impossible from where I am at present, but I hope to achieve relatively soon (not this year, likely, but soon).

So, here are some actionable goals, according to aspect of my life and insterests.

• Complete all three rounds of editing for The Lioness of Shara Mountain and upload it to the web novel portal.
• Complete the first drafts for all three books of the Avalon series and prepare the first book for submission to the wonderful folks at Renaissance Press. If I manage to get all three books done in their first drafts, then I’ll be able to have each book published every year; meaning readers won’t have to wait too long for the next book, and there’ll be three years when I have at least something published.
• Compete Super Secret Special Project and have it ready to gift to the person I’m writing it for at Christmas.

I think a total of five projects mostly complete by the end of the year is quite ambitious enough. I’ll be happy if I make two of those bullet points, to be honest.

• Monthly Coffee & Creativity live streams.
• Fill a 300 page sketchbook by the end of the year (sketchbook is pre-ordered and shipping sometime this month, so it’s going to have to be roughly a page a day, which will be quite the challenge).
• Create a book cover for The Lioness of Shara Mountain​.

Two of these are very doable. One is going to be tough to maintain. We’ll see how I do.

• Return to martial arts training; and go consistently.
• Strength and flexibility training Monday & Wednesday evenings.
• Return to language learning - French and Welsh to start. Speaking of, anyone want to become language pen pals?
• Return to reading.
• Return to blogging.
• Reestablish Nights at the Round Table​.

My biggest problem with this aspect of my life is consistency. I’m aiming for that this year.

So. There we are. Things that I’m going to attempt to do for 2022. It’s a long list, and quite ambitious, given how little I was capable of in 2021. I’m feeling a little optimistic, though, even if it’s only because I’m currently in slightly less of a depressive funk. I do hope I’ll get at least some of these things marked off my list.

What about you? Are you setting goals this year, or are you just concentrating on making it out of 2022 alive? Because, honestly, I’ll be pretty okay if that’s all I manage. If 2022 is anything like 2021 was, it will be quite the achievement.

Let me know in the comments.

​Ciao!

Good… *checks clock*… evening, Readers.

Image by Tama66 from Pixabay.

So… It’s been a little bit, hasn’t it?

I apologise. Though, I’m not sure that anyone was really reading what I wrote here nearly every weekday for a few years. For those of you who would have followed along, and maybe looked forward to reading my nonsense daily (I flatter myself), I’m sorry.

I tried. I honestly tried.

But I simply could not seem to keep up my old schedule. Life had thrown me too far and too fast, and I could not find my feet again.

I’m still trying to regain my footing, but I’m slowly coming around. Slowly. Very slowly.

Part of the problem, I suspect, was that I didn’t have time - I didn’t give myself time - to process everything; to grieve, to heal.

I lost my job and my flat mate of eleven years - the one flatmate I’ve had that I’ve been able to live with in relative ease - and had to seek a new employment and living situation in a world where everything is hideously expensive and options were horrifically limited… in the middle of a global pandemic.

I didn’t have time, didn’t give myself time, to properly grieve all the things I had lost, or to even take stock. The shock and worry, the fear, uncertainty, it all hit hard all at once, and I didn’t give myself what I needed.

The result was several attempts at a comeback that failed almost immediately and spectatularly.

It was too soon. I needed time to process. I didn’t have time. I needed a job so I could pay my rent and eat food. I needed a place to stay pretty quickly. These were things I needed to survive. There was no time or space for thriving.

The result was an incredibly deep, incredibly long depressive spiral from which I could not get the time and space to grapple with properly.

When I need healing, I tend to withdraw. I’ve done it since I can remember. It’s what I need to do. I need to go somewhere dark and quiet and just sit for a while. I need books, blankets, tea, and solitude. The fact that I did not have the option to get this time I needed protracted and compounded all the terrible things my brain was going through.

In the effort it took to simply wake up and go to work every day, despite my mental health being abysmal, everything else fell apart.

I didn’t write much, even though I tried very hard to. I started, and even kept up a pretty good schedule for a while before it collapsed like a house of cards.

I didn’t exercise nearly as much as I wanted or needed. I started, and even kept up a pretty good schedule for a while before I found I could barely even wake up and get myself to work on time.

I didn’t draw or paint or work on my leather projects at all. I tried, and couldn’t manage to keep it up to finish any project at all.

And, of course, though I tried, I could not reclaim my usual blogging schedule, and despite trying hard to get back into it, I just could not keep it up. I think I blogged a couple of times, but I just… couldn’t continue.

Count your blessings for that, as I likely wouldn’t have had much to say that wouldn’t be complaining or lamenting or outright sobbing in prose. Asking people also struggling because of this ridiculous situation we find ourselves in to read my own pain felt like I was asking far too much. This is not to say that I think we should be positive all the time, no matter what, but being a downer every day for more than a year would suck to be subjected to. So, though I feel guilty for letting my usual schedule to slip, I’m thinking that it’s a good thing you were all spared from my whinging.

Truth be told, I’m still trying to find my feet, but with the help of a return of a long-time love (teaching women’s only kickboxing) and a brand new opportunity (which I will l elaborate on in another blog post… hopefully), I’ve been feeling more myself of late. Despite still feeling like I’m being tossed about in a storm, I’m starting to feel strong enough to pick up an oar and start paddling.

There are things I want for myself, things that will take some planning and work, and I’m going to try for. I’m a little steadier now than I was more than a year ago when my world tumbled down, and it’s time to start cleaning up and sorting through the rubble, salvaging what can be salvaged, and trying to rebuild.

With luck, my efforts will bear fruit and I’ll be able to build the kind of life I’ve been dreaming of for so long.

To that end, I’m not going to try and keep up the blogging schedule I had before everything went to hell for me. It’s still a bit too much. I’m still not ready to re-enter the world properly, and I’m not going to try and force it. I’ve learnt my lesson.

I will try to blog at least once a week - even if it’s only a quickie update, rather than the novel this turned out to be. This will hopefully start in the new year. I many not manage it, but I’ll consider it a win if I manage to blog at all.

I’m still settling. I’m still healing. The depression still has me.

But I’m feeling a little stronger than I have in a long time and I’m feeling ready to start returning to the world.

In baby steps.

I hope you are all safe and well, and that you keep safe and well. See you all in the new year.

Good afternoon, Readers!

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Man, it felt good to type the above sentence. How are you all?

Things are weird here for me, but it’s coming along. I taught my first lesson at the university last week. I think I spoke far too quickly. I get too excitable when I’m talking all things Celt, and I got carried away, I think. I will endeavour to speak more slowly this evening. No guarantees, though, as I just find this all so interesting and tend to vomit words in my excitement to share it.

​I know. I know.

There is more teaching to be done. This weekend sees my return to teaching martial arts.

It has been nearly two years since I last led a class. The the before times, I taught women’s only kickboxing, kung fu and weapons. It loved teaching it almost as much as I love training it myself. I’ve made some incredible friends through martial arts - both training and teaching.

With Covid restrictions put in place, it’s going to be a drastic change to the way I normally teach, which is going to be tough, I think, but not impossible. I’ll be so pleased to get back at it. I only wish I didn’t work three jobs (four, if we include my writing), so I actually had the time to train and write and look after my students for both teaching gigs the way I want to.

Oh well. One day maybe my writing will pay off and I can abandon the job that is eating the entirety of my days and not starve to death on the streets.

Anyway, I’m anxious to return to training. Since I just don’t have the time to until maybe next year, I’ll content myself with teaching kickboxing. I’ll probably get to throw at least a few punches and kicks while I’m teaching.

In anticipation of the return to training, I’ve once again started weight training. I mean, I only have one day a week I can do it, currently - Tuesdays - which I’ve taken off my regular work to attend to university matters. My first session was this morning, and boy have I ever lost literally all my strength. It’s particularly bad on my left side. I struggled at just 20lbs. Despite the hit to my ego, it felt really good to get back at training, and I’m resolved to reacquire that lost strength. It will be slow and painful, particularly since I only have Tuesdays, and only for as long as the good weather holds.

Slowly. Ever so slowly, I’m finding myself again.

And one day, I won’t have to spend time in an office chair; save for my own, writing for a living. For now, I’ll take what scraps of time I have.

Right, I have a lecture to finish animating. There’s a class to teach tonight.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

First, I know I haven't been blogging in a long, long while. I would like to apologise, especially if it was something you enjoyed or looked forward to. I couldn't find the time or energy, and I'm still struggling with finding them. Also, most of what I would have blogged about would have been pretty down. I'm still trying to get my feet under me. I'm making progress, but it's a struggle, and you don't need my lamenting about my life all over the place.

But today I have some good news I just really wanted to share with you. A bit late, since it starts today, but whatever.

I was offered, and have accepted, a position at the University of Ottawa to teach a class. I will be teaching the Introduction to the Celtic World class.

I'm incredibly pleased to share this news. Celtic Studies is my academic love. I studied it in university, and if funds were not such an issue, I would still be pursuing it, I think. I'm really happy to be jumping back into it, and sharing something that I am so incredibly passionate about with my students.

Now, this is not a permanent position. I'm basically just doing it while the professor who usually takes the class is on sabbatical. It'll be a one term thing. It's highly unlikely that I'll be switching jobs.

If I could get some sort of long-term security and earn enough, I totally would. In a heartbeat.

Like I said, I'm really over the moon. And also really incredibly stressed. Despite working solidly in my spare time (still working 40hrs a week at my real job), I’m not feeling even remotely prepared for what I’m about to do.

Still, I promised myself to say yes to more opportunities. Even if it’s scary (which this is). So I said yes, and here I am, preparing to teach a class in a university about a thing I absolutely love. It’s been and will continue to be a lot of work. I’m hoping that this might lead to other, better opportunities. Or it might lead to nothing at all. Even if that’s the case, I’ll still have had a pretty rad experience.

Of course, there are a number of issues that this good news has brought up that I'm working through. Imposter syndrome is strong with this one. I don't have a doctorate, and though I continually read up on the subject, and pursue it academically just for my own edification, that fact does plague me some. If I hadn't been priced out of further academic studies, I'd be working on at least my second. I do have to remind myself constantly that I'm a published author, and I deserve this thing, and plenty of published authors sought and seek jobs teaching at a university. I know my stuff, and I think I'll be a good teacher... but boy am I terrified that I'll be found a fraud and laughed out of the classroom.

The other thing I'm currently wrestling with is related to my depression. There's a voice in the back of my head, and its waiting there to gloat when this all falls through my fingers; gold turned to dust. I'm tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be told that I won't get this thing that I'm excited about after all, or that I'll find out that teaching this class is actually a special kind of hell, and it will leave me more broken and depressed.

I'm trying to work through it. This is a really big deal, and a good opportunity, and I should be celebrating (I am... but there's that little darkness in the back of my mind).

Anyway, despite my brain being a giant dick about this, I'm super stoked, and I can't wait to get stuck in and share the world I fell in love with so long ago.

Wish me luck! I'm going to need it.

Good morning, Readers!

I’ve heard it said that the lotus is a symbol of perseverance; that the muddiest water produces the most beautiful blooms. I suppose it’s supposed to be something like the fiercest fire forges the strongest blade, or something with a similar intent.

But here’s the thing about that which immediately struck me:

The lotus blooms because that mud has everything it needs to produce beautiful flowers. That mud contains the life-giving nutrients required to give that blossom the best shot at a beautiful life. Mud might look messy, but it harbours all the plants needs to succeed.

Adversity isn’t that. It isn’t a messy-but-nutrient-rich environment. It is marked by the absence of things. The absence of the basics required for life. The absence of the security required to create. There is no energy for blossoms if it all the plant can do is cling precariously to life. Blossoms require a lot of energy to create. If a plant is under environmental stress, it will forgo blooming, or the flowers will be sub-par, until a season hits with more favourable conditions. A lotus cannot bloom if its seed is planted in the cracks of a concrete road.

A person’s potential is lost when that person must devote all of their time, their energy, and their mental capacity to simply surviving. There is nothing left over. There will be no flowers.

I cannot be the lotus. Not currently.

I cannot even aspire to be the lotus.

But one day, one day, I will bloom with all the fuck you energy of a dandelion.

Ciao.


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