And Pivot!

Photo by Utopia By Cho on

So, this is different. Mondays have a certain structure to them, and I’m acting like it’s any given Tuesday. What’s wrong with me? Have I no sense of decorum? Do I have little regard for schedules? Am I oblivious to the comfort found in routine?

I love a schedule, and my daily routine is so rigid, it’s been called obsessive. Too obsessive? Hm. I think, medically speaking, I should get a stick removed from a sensitive place. Oh, I love routine! Don’t mess with my routine. I might panic if things change too drastically, and that’s not hyperbole. 

So, what’s my problem today?

Clearly, I’m feeling reckless, and I’m demonstrating a shameful disregard for the norms that have been well established? Clearly. This hallowed day. A Monday of all days. A day that’s been set aside for motivation because just like any reasonable individual, I enjoy a half-baked alliteration.

Is it a perfect example? Not even close. I wouldn’t even call it a clever use of this sacred art. Someone saw a moment, and they seized it. They joined two words together and ta dee da. Thanks to a highly crafty marketing team, a meeting, and a flip of a coin, we now have a thing to look forward too.

I should see someone about my cynicism.

It’s perfect until someone decides to jump ship. Abandons this organically crafted piece of work. Breaks with tradition. What is wrong with Monday Motivations?

Nothing. It’s lovely. It’s inspiring. It’s…Motivating? Sorry, my thesaurus has a bug, glitch, hiccup. I’m a fan of the practice which is why I’ve been employing it for the last few months. I really need more motivation in my life. I need to challenge myself to look at my life differently. 

I needed it, but now?

On Monday, I dig through the vault of intellectual thoughts and find a quote that tickles the small thinking part of my brain. I put that to paper and follow it down a rabbit hole until a mad hatted rabbit gives me a cuppa tea. I take a sip, sigh contentedly, and plop myself down in a comfy chair. The much larger emotional part of my brain takes over, and I zone out.

But not today?

Obviously, I’ve spotted a rabbit with a large hat and a cup of tea. My thinking brain is following it down a hole. It’s a new hole. The edges are rough, sharp rocks are jabbing my thighs, so it’s a hole less travelled. I’m following it down until my thinking brain reaches peak exhaustion, and my emotional brain takes over.

The key to a Motivational Monday lays in the motivational part of that equation, and that’s my problem. I’m not feeling particularly motivated by the intellectuals. Their inspiring voices, with centuries of wisdom, have become a little grating. My nerves are already frayed. My sanity is tenuous at best. Pushing on through, wrangle the beast if you will, feels a little too aggressive, and I just don’t wanna.

Oh dear, my petulant emotional brain is voicing its opinion. Shush. Not now. No, you’ll have your turn later. Just be quiet. Does anyone else have to scold their brain like it’s a misbehaving child? I’m still trying to find the most efficient way to put myself in a time out while still accomplishing something. Turns out I’m not very good at multitasking.

In the spirit of honesty, and sharing is caring, I will say that I’m just not feeling it. IT. What is IT? I’m not sure, exactly, but when I feel IT there’s magic and energy. I feel a giddiness that makes my eyes feel shiny and a tiny bubble of laughter grows in my throat. I swallow, almost choke on my own saliva, but the bubble won’t go away. Not that I want it to go. I enjoy the sensation very much. Not the choking. The giggle-filled bubble. It tickles. I like being tickled.

Weirdo? To each their own. Leave me be, and yes, I’m weird. It’s a well-established truth in my tiny sphere of societal habitation.

Every word I type brings me joy. Every letter pulls me out of my body and onto the page. Finding a new word, or a new way to express a thought is like finding a leprechaun whose best friend is a unicorn. That unicorn offers me a ride over a rainbow made from candy. Do you know what I find on the other side of that rainbow? Leprechaun. Rainbow. The signs are all there! Do I need to spell it out? Fine!

Cereal. Sweet, childhood, cereal with a glass of ice-cold milk. Is there anything better than a happy memory coming to life thanks to an Irish stereotype, a stylish horse, and a pretty painted road? No, it’s a perfect moment, and that’s how I feel when I sit down to write, and the words flow out of my fingertips.

But lately, it feels like my fingers are plugged up with gunk. I’ve tried a plunger. The drain cleaner didn’t work. The pipes that carry the vocabulary juices have been clogged. Sure, there’s a small opening that’s big enough for a trickle. It will get the job done, but it’s slow, arduous, and not quite as enjoyable.

I don’t hate it! This isn’t anger or resentment. Frustration? Hm, yes, I think that might be a good word for what I’m feeling but it’s not all-encompassing. It’s not the subject matter or the intellectuals whose wisdom no longer tickles my fancy. They’re as wise as ever, and that wisdom needs to be shared, challenged, or explored in greater depths. 

Just, maybe, not by me right now? 

I’m still learning, and in the grand haven of the blogosphere, I’m a toddler taking very tentative steps. My eyes are wide, and I’m a little overwhelmed. There are so many questions, too many, and I don’t know if my thinking brain is big enough to handle the overload.

So out of my fingers, these questions flow. They land on this page in hopes, possibly in vain, that an answer will materialize out of nowhere. Who am I? What do I want to say? How do I want to say it? Am I serious? Am I funny? Do I want to be one or the other? Both? A combination of two opposing forces. Is that even possible?

Last night I met a dog that’s a cross between a Chihuahua and Bernese Mountain dog. How? Physiologically. Mechanically. Practically. How? And that’s how I feel right now. I’m the chihuahua, and there’s a big mountain dog who wants to be a daddy. Ew, no, sorry that image is disturbing. I would delete it, but it very accurately captures my state of mind.

If it helps, the dog was adorable and just the sweetest. I got a lot of cuddles, puppy kisses, and tail wags. It’s as close to heaven as I can get these days.

That dog was probably made in a lab by an eccentric scientist with untameable white hair and a curly white mustache. I assume they wear floral shirts and a white lab coat stained with mustard. A bit out there, might not make everyone feel comfortable, but they’re lovable in a goofy sort of way.

A bit out there, but loveable in a goofy sort of way? Huh, that’s me! Expect, my hair isn’t white, I don’t have a mustache, and I’m not a scientist. I’m not opposed to floral shirts. I think they’re stylish, and they make me smile. One day, I hope I get to own one that I bought whilst exploring the majestic Hawaiian Islands.

But, the future can wait.

I’m learning and growing. I’m finding my voice and my style. There are so many choices and so many toys to play with! How do I choose one? It seems rude to ignore all the others. Play favourites? Oh, perish the thought, but I can’t, in all practicality, squirrel away these delights and expect them to sprout fruit or fruit flavoured candy. 

Perhaps my mom was right when she told me to play with one thing and put it away before playing with something else. I played with Motivational Mondays, and it was fun. We laughed. We cried. We asked a lot of questions and put on our thinking faces. Now, it’s time to put it away for a while and try something new.

I don’t know what that is yet, and it won’t have a cute alliteration. I’m not that clever. Well, I have bursts and spurts of witty whimsy. I should give myself more credit. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I’ve been known, on occasion, to alliterate my posterior off, and I’ve been damn proud of myself for doing it.

At least, I giggled, and what more can I ask out of life? All I want is a simple giggle. Multiple giggles. A lifetime of giggles. Call me greedy, but I want to giggle my life away.

Which is why I’m pivoting! I feel a sense of accomplishment, and I do feel proud of my Monday musings. It’s just not making me laugh, and it’s starting to feel like a bit of a chore. That’s something writing has never felt like before. It’s something that brings me joy, relief, and escapism.

The best part of the creative process is trying new styles, new voices, and following a brand new rabbit down a slightly different hole. It won’t be completely different. I’m still me, and my thoughts are still my own. As is my opinion, by the way. It’s all me, for better or worse, and these are my musings on life.

If you, like me, love a half-baked alliteration, then maybe that’s what we’ll call this little ditty. Monday Musings with Me. Because, you know, the words start with the same letter. Except for one but prepositions aren’t real words. 

Oh, now I’ve gone and done it. Is this Controversy with Keri? No? Too much? Not enough? 

Well, I didn’t say it would be any good. I’m just saying that I need a change. Temporary, perhaps, but I need to try something different. I know it’s scary. I’m not a fan of change or the practice of implementing it. Change. Yuck. It tastes salty. Spit it out. Ptui. No, thank you.

Which is why I’m calling it a pivot and not that other word. If I don’t use the ‘C’ word then no one will freak out. Assuming anyone cares enough to freak out. Maybe I’m just trying to prevent my own freakout. Yeah, that’s more like it.

I’m continuing my adventure into the unknown, and not knowing is kind of— Well, you know, it’s freaking me out. I don’t want to freak out. Life is stressful enough. My anxiety level has been sitting at a solid seven out of ten for weeks. I don’t need to add to it by using a word that makes me want to vomit.

But, for my sanity, I have to make this move. I need to…Change…Yuck…It up so that I can write a truthful, full-hearted post. I deserve the fun, the giggle bubble, the unclogged finger tubes. You deserve an authentic, truthful, read because you could read anyone else. Instead, for whatever reason, you’ve gifted me your time, and I’m immensely grateful for that. Seriously, I recently hit one hundred subscribers, and I don’t know a hundred people. How is this possible? How can I tell you how much this means to me? 

I guess the best way to show my gratitude is to be as real and as honest as I can. Create content that brings joy, humour, and shares an experience you may, or may not, relate too. Maybe, if you see me struggling, you won’t feel so alone, and that’s why I started doing this.

Connection. Community. A small voice whispering, “You aren’t alone.” There are a lot of us out here. Struggling in the shadows. We feel alone, but we aren’t, and that’s all I want to share with you. In every post, every thought, ever wise crack — We aren’t alone.

So, my friend, let’s take a deep breath and say this together in our most dramatic voices, “PIVOT!”

If you catch that pop culture reference, then we can be friends. See what I did there? Yeah, okay, I’ll see myself out.


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