Music Monday

My cat, Puffin. Yes, you saw him at the weekend, looking all wistful about happiness and ting, but this is him rocking out on Music Monday.

Did I run out of time and inspiration on the picture front today, or am I always going to feature themed pictures of my cat? You decide. A big and well-deserved slap for the first Sid James wannabe who makes a joke about my pussy.

Thanks for all the Tweets about the last post (trumpets not included) to the brethren on Twitter - much obliged and thanks for the kudos.

And while we're on the subject and I'm thoroughly inspired by all things Cheep and Twittersome, Mondays are now officially Music Mondays here at The Daily. Well, I say that, this Monday is. You know how the moods take me.

And speaking of Twitter, one of my current clients (for jokes about being a hooker, see threat to Sid James wannabes, above) wants to kill me every time I mention it. It seems to have this effect on some people. This means I have to go to our early Wednesday morning meeting armed and dangerous, which means I'm going to have completely rethink my outfit. Anyhoo....

Back to the music.

Seeing as the world definitely does not need just another music blog (and if it does, it wouldn't be written by me - Doris Day and Dolly Parton need no introduction, in my opinion), I'm just going to give you the heads up on three great music sites/tools. These seem designed for people like me who love new music, but wouldn't know where to find it even if they took up permanent residence between the covers of the NME.

These sites are also the reason why you no longer find me in the kitchen at parties. I'm now firmly ensconced between the pot plant and the vomiting stranger no one remembers inviting.

Hype Machine - I thought EVERYONE but me had heard of Hype when I found it, until I started mentioning it to people I know, and they hadn't. It takes the best songs that the best music bloggers are raving over or to and puts them all in one place, with some handy little features that allow you to share the musical magic on a truly global scale. It's interactive from many social networking angles and will have new music coming out of every single one of your many orifices. You can quote me on that. Why do I get the feeling I might regret saying that......?

Track in the Box - this is the latest offering from those ALWAYS cool (no matter what they might say) people over at The Greenhouse Group in their continuing mission to make new music grow. It delivers a brand new track into your inbox every single day - hence the title. How we love the tin and doing exactly what it says on it. I have liked every track so far, which is either proof of my growing coolness or a terrible indictment of their musical preferences. I think the former, but why not try it for a week and make up your own mind. Bet you a slap with a haddock you won't unsubscribe.

The Music File - I found these guys entirely by accident through Twitter, bless its chirruping little wordcount and this site has it all. Song of the Day. Downloads. Mixes for the Moment. And Radio - what more could you possibly want? Ok, ok, from music I mean. Visit, follow them on Twitter, hell, you can stalk them if you like, but go there. No. Don't stalk them really. They might never forgive me and I'm trying to impress them.

Oh, and have I mentioned Twitter yet? Because you should really join. Otherwise, by about 11am on Wednesday morning I'll be sporting a black eye for nothing.

Reasons to be happy....1,2,3. Er, and 4.

Cat's are the all -time, rock-out experts at knowing how to Just Be.

Photo courtesy of James Cartwright over at our very fave Southsea Salon, The Peace Cafe

This post is for Paris, who - after last night's Caravan Gallery launch of their unflinchingly fantastic Is Britain Great 2 (I was still waxing lyrical about the first one) bemoaned the loss of The Daily AND complained I never write about him, so here I am, killing two birds with one stone.

[For info: if I was really to kill two birds with one stone, I'd go for Celine Dion, one hell of a knock-out, skull bounce ricochet, and then Jordan.]

Paris was right - it has been ages since I was here and excuses I have none. I've been devoting my attention to getting back into the swing of working for a living again following several months travelling in South East Asia (see Que Sera Sarah).

This has taken more of my time and energy than I had expected because the '9 to silly o'clock' of freelancing is much harder than I remember. This is, in part, because a lot has changed for me since I went/while I was there and in part because as a result of those changes, I'm gradually reassessing what I want from what I what I do. In fact, I'm trying to make what I do the same as what I want, and what I want the same as what makes me happy.

Still with me? Good, because happiness is a lot harder than I thought.

You see, it's easy to be happy when you're travelling (notwithstanding plane delays, incomprehensible systems of public transport and compulsory testing for swine flu). Travelling life is as The Parker once said, a medley of extemporanea. Rise in the morning, go and see new, beautiful, awe-inspiring things, eat great food, meet people and sleep with the peacefulness of the truly enlightened (Repeat for duration of trip). For three months, my daily life was intense and at the extremes, running from terror to euphoria with the speed of an Olympian athlete and I have never been so consistently happy in my life.

And from consistent happiness came an amazing sense of freedom. Not just freedom of movement in the travelling sense, but freedom to be myself - after all, who cares about making a fool of yourself, making mistakes or making a mess when you're on the other side of the world?

For one thing, you're really unlikely to see most of these people again, so you can wear the egg on your face like L'oreal. But for another, the investment I had made in the whole trip - not just financially, but professionally, in the risk of losing my clients while I was gone, and personally, in the potential for failure - made it imperative that I not miss opportunities to DO everything, SEE everything, BE THERE for every moment.

So suffice to say, I learnt a lot. And, while travelling, (this one's for you, Paris) I couldn't help but wonder why I couldn't be this person - this fearless, confident, outrageously happy, creative and peaceful-even-in-sadness, stress or terror-Me - back home.

And although I loved travelling, gradually the desire to test the theory, and the growing belief that I could BE this ME at home, was what brought me home.

So here I am, living the dream with a set of simpler rules for life:

• 
  
  Be here now,


• 
  
  Be Me,


• 
  
  Love


• 
  
  Be Loved.
  

If it ain't one of these Big 4, I'm not doing it.

It's not always easy and it's not always fun.

Very often it brings me face to face with the self-constraining habits that have led to so much unhappiness in the past, namely: living in the future or the past, pretending to be someone else, hating myself and judging - or worse, blaming - others, and not allowing others close to me).

But it is rewarding, it is flying by the seat of my lacy pants, and it is working.

I'm going out more, meeting new people. I'm spending more time with the people I love. I achieve more. And FINALLY I'm working on a novel, with the help of those amazing folks over at NaNoWriMo.

Because being responsible for your own happiness is the key to success, even when you fail. And asking that first question, What makes me happy? is the best starting point I've found yet.

But you can't do it alone. I haven't.

As well as friends and family, there are people living their dreams right now, all over the world. They'll tell you it's not easy, either, but if asked the question - Is it worth it? - all would give you a resounding Yes, if not a resounding, Well, Duh. Obviously.

If you need some inspiration, I'd recommend a trip to Cambodia, but if that's out of the question, try some WorldwideWonderWeb inspiration instead:

Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project is not only inspiring, but a vital source of practical tips and hints for all things Pursuit of Happiness.

The freshly discovered Ally Jade's 52 week project tells its own amazing story about the role of creativity in helping us to Just Be Ourselves.

Some of my current fave great indie mags and fresh new entrepreneurs show us the value of pursuing - at all costs, with great patience and endless dedication - That Big Idea. Check out: Noir et Blanc, Yeah, and Knock Back.

If your big idea needs some practical assistance, subscribe to Lateral Action for a weekly dose of kick-up-the-arse inspiration that never fails to inspire - both practically and creatively.....

....and don't forget to check out founder Mark McGuiness' site, the beautifully named, Wishful Thinking while you're at it. ESPECIALLY if 'finding the time' is one of your number one excuses for putting off the things that make you happy, or could. His free (yes, my brethren, I said FREE) e-book Time Management for Creative People will change your life, if you let it.

But if you like your inspiration a bit sharper around the edges, you have to, Have To, HAVE TO find any excuse to lose some unregrettable hours in the Gaping Void of Hugh MacLeod - where healthy, honest to Betsy, hard truths come in cubes.

I'll let you know how my own yellow brick road to happiness - both personal and professional - goes. And in the meantime, why not let me know what makes you happy, and what your rules for happiness might be?

You never know where it might lead. Or maybe you do...

Heard over and overheard

Ridiculous lyrics in the Top 40 - Heard over and over this week (I listen to the radio when I work)

Lady Gaga - Love Game

Let'shave some fun, this beat is sick.

I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.

Shakira - She Wolf

Special mention to Shakira for getting the word 'lycanthropy' into a song.

I'm starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in the office.

This almost, but not quite, tops the lyrics of her first hit: Whenever, Wherever -

Lucky that my breasts are small and humble,

So you don't confuse them with mountains.

Sugababes - Hey Sexy

I hate this song. Not because it's worse than usual dribble the Sugababes have degenerated into lately, but because there's just no excuse for badly constructed English. It sets a bad example to our youth.

When I'm drivin' in my car

Or I'm standing at the bar

It's no matter where I are

They say, 'Hey Sexy.'

It hurts.

Conversational snippets overheard, not necessarily recently.

Two women talking while bored man looks on:

Woman: We thought my son was gay for a long time, you know. He's only really had two girlfriends.

Man: And one of those was a man.

Howard: Friends are like gifts, with baggage.

A couple:

She: Does anything bother you about our relationship?

He: (Long pause) The only thing that really bothers me is the towels.

She: (Bemused silence)

He: That you just fold them up and leave them when they're obviously damp or wet. I mean, they won't dry that way. They just smell of mould. There's no logic in it. It just doesn't make any sense. Don't you think about it? When you do that? When you leave them out and they're damp?

She: No. I don't think about the towels at all.

The table behind mine in a cafe:

Man: You can't be adventurous and have a threshold!

Que Sera Sarah

Quit hanging out here! I've left! This place is so retro!

Come find me on my travels instead on my new blog, Que Sera Sarah:

http://kserasarah.blogspot.com/

See you there.........x

You say goodbye and I say hello

Crikey, it's been a while, hasn't it? I can only assure you that things have been very busy here in sunny Sarsea, and that I have been frantically planning the experience of a lifetime (or the first of many such experiences) - my travels to South East Asia for three months - Huzzah!!

Of course, the downside to my trip is that my blog here will stop for a while (plus ca change, I hear you cry!). But never fear my ardent little readers - and my ardent big ones. No, that sounds wrong - I am starting a special NEW blog, just for my travels. Don't say I never do anything for you.

I'm still working on the template for the new blog. Well, I say template, but I mean name. All my other names came really easy, but if you have any ideas, let me know. I would say don't take the piss, but I know my readers well enough to know that's a complete waste of time.......

Peace out, ma bloggers.

an army of me

I am in the process of losing weight. It's official.

It started with a conversation about self-esteem with a friend of mine, the wonderful Steve Hender, who is also one of the best motivational coaches I know. Ok, to be fair, he's one of the only motivational coaches I know, but I am minded that this does not detract from his inspirationability. Yes, I just made that up.

Steve himself lost about 5 stone over a period of some months (I'm a little sketchy on detail), and hanging out with him has led me to completely rethink my self-perceptions and capabilities - which has proved to be a good thing, both personally and professionally over the last few months. As a result, at our last meeting we got talking about losing weight.

"I'm struggling with the mirror thing," I told him as we sipped coffee - Steve's personal obsession after real ale - in my favourite writing haunt, the Greenhouse Kitchen.

"Hmmmm," he murmured, "Interesting."

He sent me an appraising look.

'The Mirror Thing' is an exercise in self-esteem where, every day, you have to stand in front of your mirror - completely naked - look at your body, and say, "Not bad." And you have to mean it. I've been doing the Mirror Thing every day since February and I really struggle to mean that Not Bad. Most often it comes out in an icy tone that positively drips sarcasm onto my bedroom carpet (where it sizzles nastily through my medium shag-pile - it's melted a small hole through to the floorboards).

I explain this to Steve.

"Why can't you mean it?" He asks.

"I don't know......" My eyes slide towards the window as my voice trails off into middle earth.

"But if you did know," he insists, "Why would it be?"

I laugh. I love it when he says this.

"I guess I've been wanting to lose some weight for ages, so every time I look in the mirror, I remember that I want to lose weight and I guess I feel dissatisfied."

(As I write this, a man walks past the Greenhouse Kitchen window in a tan suit and hat and brown and white spatz - he looks like Bugsy Malone with glasses. No word of a lie.)

"You've been wanting to lose weight for ages?" He repeats.

"Yes."

"So why don't you?" he asks.

I stare at him for a moment, "Erm......"

I start to smile.

"So, you want to?" Steve prompts.

"Yes!" I decide, feeling lighter already.

I haven't weighed myself since I was in my teens and I'm now 32 years old. Scales have not been my friend. But, following a prompt from Steve, the following Saturday, I set my internal GPS on a route to Knight and Lee and buy my first ever set of scales.

The following day I have a long bath in preparation for my first big weigh-in. As I step, shivering onto the scales (with cold, not anticipation - the Loft has no central heating) I'm nervous.

The silver dial sparkles as it informs me that I weigh 12 stone. According to the BMI charts on my kitchen noticeboard, this means I'm officially a porker (that's science speak, you might have to look it up).

So, here it is. The plan. Steve has reliably informed me that goals have to be SMART (I'm not going to jargonise you to death here, if you haven't heard of it look it up - or accept my word that it means you have to set very clear targets for yourself to maximise your chances of succeeding).

By 30th April, I want to weigh 10st 7lbs. There, I've said it. It's out there. It counts.

I want to lose a stone and a half, following which I will set another target, based on how well I did at achieving this one. I started to watch what I was eating following my first weigh-in, which was on the 15th March and am currently weighing in at 11st 7lbs.

My next step is serious exercise. It would be handy if I was dating as I always tend to exercise then, but as that kind of ride is out of the question, I'm looking for a cheap, second-hand bike. It's got be cheap because I'm still saving for Malaysia. First stop Freecycling - ptp.

So, wish me luck. Watch this space. Hopefully over the next few weeks, I'll be occupying less of it.

The hours are stretching like the sheets on the bed

William Blake, The Ancient of Days. 'Nuff said.

"We'll hunt for a third tiger now, but like the others this one too will be a form of what I dream, a structure of words, and not the flesh and bone tiger that beyond all myths paces the earth. I know these things quite well, yet nonetheless some force keeps driving me in this vague, unreasonable, and ancient quest, and I go on pursuing through the hours another tiger, the beast not found in verse." J.L. Borges, The Other Tiger, 1960.

There's something about this quote that captures my late night, wistful-at-the-edges state of mind.

I've taken Jimmy B's advice - just another on the list of things to thank him for, including for the oh-so-welcomed comments here - and invested in a bottle of Bells whisky (the sassenach takes note of her recent spelling lessons). If you've never dabbled in this sip of scottish heaven, do it now. It's the late night writer's best friend for a reason and my early hours cigarettes have been waiting on a glass of Bell's as company, I realise, since I first took nicotine to my lungs.

While on the subject of Jimmy - I've recommended him before and I'll do it again. Follow the link on the right and you'll understand why. His recent posts on his wife and father showcase perfectly what the blogosphere is for. Keep up the good work Jimmy. I'm sorry I don't have the chance to comment in your pages more often, but I continue to lurk silently in the shadows of your site, and besides, you have more than enough company on your comments page. In fact, if I wasn't so sweetly inebriated, I'd probably be jealous.

Now, back to my personal quest for the perfect punchbag, and I'm not talking about my ex's.