Something better change

I missed Musical Monday yesterday, I realise -- I had planned a post about Afghan Whigs and their Black Love album, but I couldn't think of a suitable simile for Greg Dulli's voice. But mostly I just wasn't motivated enough, and went to the gym instead.
This morning I woke from confused dreams regarding travel. The details are neither very interesting, nor very clear, but in my dream I couldn't remember where I was meant to be going. I knew I was going somewhere, just not where. That's probably symbolic of something in my life.

I was blogging at work today -- writing in notepad when I should have been taking FSA tests about money laundering and anti-trust laws. The post, although hardly written, was going to focus on how I felt unhappy today and wasn't sure why. But I've had a sort of shift of focus, following the comment from Chosha on an earlier post. Although I wasn't sure about the tone, it occurred to me that was the whole point of what she was trying to tell me. It's something I forget; that we have a degree of choice in how we feel. Now, I could choose to be offended -- just as I chose to believe San only called me because her boyfriend or whoever weren't available. I could just as easily choose to think she called me because she cares about me, values our friendship and that she missed me.

Almost exactly a year, I was having what I was calling a "quarter-century crisis" -- that I was turning 25, single, still living at home and working as a bar tender for minimum wage. I was frustrated and unhappy. What changed was that I found a mind-programming technique and realised how great I truly am. Fair enough, the feeling didn't last -- but that is because I stopped using it. Nobody gave me a lobotomy, or waved a magic wand and changed my brain chemistry -- I just chose to feel good about myself.

I often tell the same story, but there was a time I was depressed and on some quite strong medication for it. The medication didn't make me feel any happier -- and so the dosage would be increased -- but I ended up sort of dependent on it, in order to avoid the side-effects that came with not taking it. But in the end, I did stop -- with my doctor's permission, I realised I was no better for the medication and could do better with diet, exercise, sleep and some actual effort on my part. It was an interesting idea, and one that is far too easy to abandon when it's too much like hard work.

It's January, and naturally I'm out of shape. But following my "...Ordinary" post, I did realise that it's up to me to change what I don't like. I won't wake up one day to find I'm suddenly different (short of being bitten by a radioactive spider), so in the words of the Stranglers -- something better change. I'm working on getting back into shape again, and it can be demoralising to see where I previously got to and where I have sunk to. But dwelling on it won't help me, won't inspire me to work harder -- and the same does go for my emotional well being.

I need to take some responsibility again, which I think is what Chosha was trying to tell me. I can choose to think all kinds of things about San, and me, and whatever -- just as I can choose to think of any number of reasons why Fi doesn't want to see me any more, since I last met her. It's up to me; I can wallow and convince myself I am infectious human waste, or I can do something about it. This isn't yet a "mark your calendars, today I changed" post, but I recognise what needs to change.