Bandwagons.

by missmaudy

Now, it appears the Fearless Purple Flylady is giving me the shits again – I am getting between 15 and 20 fly-posts a day (today was 30 I think) and in all seriousness, you’d be forgiven for thinking someone who’s been around as long as she has would have more than about 20 ‘stock’ posts that get regurgitated on a pretty much weekly basis. If I have to see one more post about how awesome those purple rags are or that fucking water bottle…

Yes. I have fallen into the aggressive phase of my passive-aggressive relationship with the Flylady. Maybe its the simplicity and minimalism of KonMari that’s completely turning me against her, and maybe it’s because Easter and she’s on the Jesus-train. Nowt wrong with that, just not down my throat tyvm. However, I will say easier to ignore on the Farcebook than her palaver cluttering up my inbox. I suspect that KM is not the only thing I can’t do ‘properly’ whilst working full time (or with childrens). I do have routines, but they’re pretty damn flexible. I do meal plan – if you consider writing a list of protein sources, proposed cooking methods and suggested days on a scrap of paper and sticking it on the fridge to be meal planning (there were two Thursdays this week. Interesting.) I also have a ‘shiny sink’ (tr: clear, wiped benches in the entire kitchen – who wants one wee oasis of clean in the middle of a schemozzle. The entire bench is clear before I go to bed); and whilst I do dress to shoes as soon as I get up because I walk the dog, that doesn’t count because they come off the millisecond after I walk in the door. However, my ‘dress to shoes’ is drying my hair properly and popping a face on, even if it’s just tinted moisturiser and mascara.

I’m not abandoning the KM train either – still wombling about in the crap carriage – two weeks of annual leave and I have two KM missions – the damn filing cabinet and the fucking laundry (it’s been shitting me for thirteen and a half years, so yeah. Something.) But more on that later. At least it’s getting cool enough for Reg to crank up the pot belly stove to burn all the crap when I deal with the filing cabinet. Definitely a win there.

Now, about 18 months ago, I had a dabble with Bullet Journaling. I stuck at it for about six months, then totally lost the book I was using. When I KM’d the crap out of my cupboard – whadderyouknow, found the wee fucker. I didn’t go find an alternative partly because the book I was using was NQR. It was a medium sized Moleskine square journal, and it was sort of too small but not for any real reason I can put my finger on (aside from my gigantic hand writing and equally gigantic man hands. They’re not that big, but yeah. I like a decent spread.) Bullet journaling is just a fancypants version of what I do on random bits of paper; and is pretty much how I operate at work (except that I use an A4 notebook, write on one side, and use the other side of the spread for notes etc). I started doing proper Bullet Journal stylie last week and fuck it’s good. I’m seriously tempted to do it hardcore when I go back to work – I’m managing two big projects with various deadlines, along with a couple of smaller ones. The two smaller projects I’m not even starting til May, but they’re on the list because oops, forgot. They’ve been off and on the list since oh – February. Anyway, I consulted Mr Google to refresh the whole bullet journal thing again.

Fuck. Me. Swinging.

When I first investigated bullet journaling, it was pretty low key – write a list in a book and index your lists so that you can find stuff you want to know about later, tailored to suit your needs, and no waste paper because just the days you use. Simples. In the last 18 months or so, it appears to have evolved. A lot. People have embraced the #bujo (it’s even got a fucking hashtag. Seriously.) and the Google is full of these beautiful and creative masterpieces that are enough to turn an inveterate list maker such as myself into a bit of a squeamish wussy-girl. (I am allowed to call myself a wussy-girl because yes. Both. Specially when it comes to flowers and stickers and shit. And Washi tape. Although that’s sorta fancy). There’s this whole community of “planner-addicts” who do these elaborate (and slightly insane) decorated planner pages (I double dare you to Google Erin Condren Planners and look at the images.

Now, rest assured I am not totally bagging you if you’re a fan of that sort of thing. What ever pops your cork. But I still think it’s nutty as. There’s also a whole lot of people who do this in their bullet journal. They have lists and list and lists and challenges (and still have get up, go to work, come home and play with journal as their entire to-do lists for the day. Sorry, I suspect I actually *am* bagging the journal/planner enthusiast. I really am sorry. I don’t like to bag people for their passions, no matter how weird. I don’t even bag bronies. Actually, I definitely bag bronies. Google them.)

Ok, now I’ve confused myself and made myself feel all guilty for picking on people for decorating their diaries…  I’m not only doing a bullet journal again, I am using the duck’s guts of journals… the legendary Leuchtterm1917 in red. My dad always told me to use the best tools I could afford – the paper in this shits all over the Moleskine, so I should be able to use a gel ink pen. I do prefer to write with gel ink. And I may or may not have an interesting and extensive collection of colourful gel pens. This is why I should not bag people for doing fancy arse journals. I have colourful pens. MANY colourful pens.  I am slavishly following the set-up instructions then I am going to go fully sick. And I can write down my “to read” lists, and a list of meals the fussy buggers I live with will eat, and pretty much anything I can think of, as well as keeping track of the gigantic to-do list that I have rolling about in my head. But I’m not doing stickers. Probably. They’d have to be super cool. And not pictures of dinner.

 

 

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