Computerless

I am without computer for the next week (at home at least) and I am thinking of discovering myself in the process.

What would we do without a computer to turn to? Who am I without a computer? Why do I feel so drawn to the computer for "stuff"?

Last night I was the clothing folder, dish washer, soda drinker, Chelsea Handler watcher who went and trained an NFL player's daughter how to play volleyball at 8pm 45 minutes from my house and came home to do housework instead of checking email at 10p. Who does housework happily at 10p at night? I do.

When there is no computer around.

I think I am going to find that I will be more productive in other, completely fulfilling areas of my life after this experiment. I was definitely happier and less stressed last night on my way to bed.
My back felt better since I wasn't in crouching tiger hidden dragon position while typing madly at the keyboard all night.

With my "To Do" list tucked in my bag, it was too difficult to care what was on it when none of it could be completed without a hard drive and motherboard. I was calm.

Tonight will be a test as to whether I will choose to do housework and veg in front of the TV or whether I will turn to my book to close my eyes for me. I think either way, I will feel better.

Image

With things like this left hanging in my house:

And chores like this:

I make the carpet look like this:

I light this:

And even though it may not be, suddenly everything seems to feel like it is in its place.

Own It

I used to want to punch celebrities in the face every time I heard one whine about lack of privacy or the pressures of Hollywood. Duh, isn't that what they signed up for in exchange for fame and fortune? Did they really expect me, a single girl living in a crappy apartment above the walking dead, to feel sorry for them? Puh-leese.

Then I moved to Hoboken.

Although I was thrilled to be living with my main squeeze, the life I had assumed we'd be living (you know, the bright eyes, big city, country mouse-turn-city mouse one) was reduced to 11 hours on the New Jersey Turnpike and suddenly, New York City was nothing more than hazy lights viewed from the arch of the General Pulaski Bridge.

Sometimes, it's impossible to realize the reality of a situation until you are living it. When I made the choice to move to Hoboken, it was the decision that was best for me and my future. I had no way of knowing just how much stress and anxiety the commute would bring.

I would gamble to say that the majority of commuters here in New Jersey are conditioned to barreling down the turnpike five days a week at mach speed; to them, it's just another means to an end and not worth dwelling on.

Unfortunately, I'm not one of them and have resorted to the celebrity approach to my unforeseen circumstance: meet Wendy Whiner, otherwise known as Ali Lapointe.

For the past three years on any given morning, you could find me pulling into my work parking lot, fists clenched, nerves shot, mouth wide open and ready to complain to the first person I met.

That stops today.

I chose to move to Hoboken and I love it there. Since I am not leaving my job anytime soon and as we are not moving anytime soon, I need to start owning that choice.

(Do the math, Wendy - it's time to wake up, smell the diesel fuel, and start dealing with the real issue: it's not the commute, it's your inability to deal well with stress and anxiety that is the problem.)

So, on this second day of my Year of Choosing Carefully, I am taking ownership over my angst. Instead of whining, I'm going to follow the lead of one of my dearest friends (who has successfully been managing her stress in a more constructive, pro-active way) and tonight, I'm going to combat my stress and anxiety by taking my first Bikram Yoga class. Hopefully, taking some time to mellow out in a calm, tranquil environment will result in a more calm, tranquil me.

Wish me luck !

From the trenches of Camp Ali, this is my life as I blog it.