Numbers 8 and 14 - Stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive

Numbers 8 and 14 are both about staying alive in their own ways, Number 8 in a literal sense, where I aimed to buy house plants and not kill them. This, I must say, has gone better than expected. I bought three house plants in early January. Two have survived. Things did go well for a while, but then our central heating died. This is a story in and of itself that I cannot go into without experiencing now-phantom frostbite, but it did effect one of my plants.

For two months, Georgiana (that was my plant’s name) did well. Georgiana was a beautiful plant. One of those many-stemmed, flowery, girly ones. She was beautiful. Unfortunately, when the central heating stopped, whenever any renegade drops of the water I gave her got stuck in her stems, they no longer gently tickled down or evaporated. No no. They became... mould. Actual mould. There was nothing I could do about it. Georgiana passed away in late February. I unceremoniously threw her in the bin. (Side note: guys, don’t name stuff. When you throw it away, you will feel guilty. Fact.) The others are alive and well. That’s an achievement, even if one of them didn’t make it. But hey, as the mighty Meat Loaf so wisely says, ‘Two outta three ain’t bad’.

Number 14 is about staying alive in a different way. It is about staying alive in the mind and the heart. I believe that there are ways that we can encourage our dreams and ways we can stifle them. One of the big goals of my day zero project was to stay inspired and to encourage myself, a habit which I find I have been woefully lacking in cultivating. This will be the first of my ‘inspiration’ posts, of which, if I manage to complete my tasks, there will be many.

Number 14 is to watch one TED talk every week. TED is a series of conferences that spread innovative ideas through high quality talks, and it uploads these talks on to a website (get on it, www.ted.com). TED has been a source of massive inspiration for me for about a year now, and I thought that it would be good to keep myself inspired by watching talks. I have been pretty good at keeping up with it every week, but last night I had the privilege of attending TEDx Belfast.

Most of the talks last night were great, but there was one in particular that stood out. It was by a guy called Colin Williams, and the talk was about how fear is the enemy of creativity. Fear holds us back from dreaming, and he spoke about this with both stories from his own life and with direct relation to Belfast. It kind of hit the nail on the head for me in so many ways. Firstly, for anyone out there who has been reading my posts, you’ll know that trying to rid myself of some of my fears is something I’ve been battling with recently. Secondly, this talk also made me realise how far I still have to go. There are still dreams that I have stifled because I’ve been too afraid to admit that I want them. Lastly, talking about a Belfast and the history that has shaped both the city and the mentality of its people was both brave and, I believe, necessary. He said that he believed the only thing holding Belfast back from greatness was fear that has been built into the society through a troubled history. His encouragement was to just rise up and essentially to join with him in his passion and his belief that the creative arts will be what makes this city great. To say this publicly in front of so many key leaders in the city and potentially to the world via the internet was such a strong and brave thing to do, and I certainly hope his words impacted them just as much as they impacted me.

The personal issues raised by this specific talk are things I will continue working on in the next little while. I will continue to fight my fears and try to move into actualising some of my dreams. Perhaps I’ll even confess to myself that I have certain long-buried dreams. While in the process, I will keep trying to stay inspired and actively choosing to invest time and energy into inspiration. I'm also hoping to look more at what this city has to offer and perhaps how I can be a part of what is happening here. TED showed me that there really are new and exciting things happening here. I am excited both for myself and for the future of Belfast for, as Colin Williams quoted during his talk, 'greater things are yet to come and greater things are still to be done in this city'.

Number 2 - Telling fear where to get off, Part Two

So, part one was stepping out and leading worship, playing guitar and singing, and choosing to be a leader. The thing about worship is that people kind of have to be nice to you about it, otherwise you get classed as a total arse. Also, leading worship isn't about you which, for me, makes it a less intimidating prospect than playing at an open mic night in front of a bunch of strangers who are obliged to do nothing. They don't have to be encouraging. They can give you looks like you are the spawn of satan if they so choose, which is why, last night, I spent a substantial amount of time feeling like I was going to vomit, and secretly planning to tell my friends that I was too unwell/busy/tired to attend just so I could chicken out.

My fear of performing with a guitar is irrational. There is no way to rationalise how utterly terrified I become when I play in front of people. I have wanted to have the courage to face my fears and play for years, but I always allowed myself to be shackled. That is, until last night.

I went to an open mic night at the YWAM Ireland base in Rostrevor  (www.facebook.com/ywamireland), which is situated in what can only be described as a magical fairy land. I mean, seriously, this place is beautiful. There are hills and trees and the sea and gorse and fields... basically all things lovely. It's stunning. You should go. I digress.

The base holds a monthly open mic night where both people from the local community and those who live on the base can perform music, poetry, dance, or pretty much anything you want. Some of it was worship, some of it was secular (including one of the most awesome renditions of 'You Can Call Me Al' I have ever had the privilege of experiencing), and all of it included a bunch of people just having fun. That is, aside from one young woman sitting in the corner, sweating like a pig and shaking like a crack addict. Lil' old me. And then my name was called.

Now, I'm ALL about the bravura. I am not one of these sensible people who shuts up when they are nervous. No no, I talk until I cannot stop, with the internal dialogue of 'Shut up, shut u... why? Why are you still talking? Stop. Stop now...' etc. Last night was no exception. I got up there and told them this was the first time I'd done anything like this, and that I would play on the condition that, no matter how I did, they would tell me I was fabulous. An agreement was struck, closely followed by the strings of my guitar. I was playing David Gray's 'Be Mine' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fva1QtJnshE), and I was playing it in front of about 70 people! I got into my stride. I was doing pretty bloody well. Nothing could go wrong. Until, of course, I forgot the words four lines before the end of the song.

This was the worst that could have happened. I was about 3 seconds away from panicking. Instead, I did what I do best under pressure; cracked a joke, grinned like the village idiot and played on, to vast cheers. They were on my side, and I finished.

All that to say, I did it. I faced my fear. My fear of playing publicly will probably never be worse than it was last night, because all that needed to happen was for me to say no to what was holding me back. The next challenge will be playing again. And again. And again and again and again. And then maybe I'll actually start feeling good about playing. In the end, facing your fears is about embracing freedom. I took the first step last night. I encourage you to do the same.

Number 87 - Telling fear where to get off, Part One

So, I am a human being. As a human, I struggle with things constantly in my day-to-day life. Some of it is with things like motivation, self-control or trying not to be a catty old hag when I first wake up in the morning, but there is one thing that I believe we all struggle with, every last one of us. That thing is fear.

As mentioned in one of my earlier blog posts, I am a Christian and, at the risk of sounding crazy, I believe God spoke to me many years ago about leading worship and about stepping out and doing music things regularly. For many years, I quite deliberately ran from this. Why? Because I was scared. Because I allowed fear to control me, and I chose to compare myself to others all the time. Constantly. I sat and compared myself with people who had been playing for years, people who were professionals, even, when an old acquaintance gained considerable fame, people who were performing in front of thousands regularly. Was this a realistic thing to do? No. But does fear make you behave irrationally? Yes, I believe it does. However, I also believe that we have control over how much we allow fear to infiltrate into our lives. Sadly, I handed over the reigns to music in my life for years. I was driven by fear.

Just over a year ago, I joined a wonderful home group in my church, which is filled to the brim with people I admire, respect and love. They are so utterly non-judgmental and so supportive that I started to feel like I could maybe, possibly, consider thinking about potentially... leading. I've been singing for years. When it comes to my voice, I can sing in front of a few hundred people and go on stage without a trembling hand or a knocking knee in sight. It's when you put my guitar in my hand that I panic. The small of my back starts to produce so much sweat that it is akin to the Victoria Falls, and my hands are not far behind, making sure I slip my way up the fret board as I tremble and agonisingly wish I was elsewhere. But I'm not. I am here. I am now.

The mistake we so often make with fear is that we say 'when I'm not scared anymore, I'll do it'. I'm judging no one here, because that was my logic for close to a decade. I'll do it when the terror ceases. What I (very) slowly came to realise is that my fear wasn't going anywhere any time soon. For the fear to leave, I had to take the reigns back. For the fear to leave, I needed to show it that I wouldn't let it make me its home anymore. I needed to, as Nike say, just do it.

The first few times, I was so scared I thought I was going to cry. Quite literally. I sat there playing in front of people who have never shown me anything but love and support, terrified. And then it wasn't so terrifying. And then I was only a little scared. And then I wasn't.

I can't tell you that I never struggle with fear and leading worship anymore. I do. What's changed is my attitude, and my ability to turn around and tell fear leave. I know that I'm the one who controls how much fear I allow myself to be ruled by, and I've had enough, which is why I have now said that I will play at an open mic night next week. Am I bricking it? Absolutely. Will that stop me? Well, you'll know when part 2 of 'telling fear where to get off' comes, but I'm certainly hoping it won't.

I don't want to be one of those 'moral of the story' types, but if you, reader, are struggling with fear, I encourage you to step into the fear that you feel, because freedom is worth it. I promise.

Numbers 9, 12 and 35 - Reading, fasting and sunrises

Having done so appallingly so far at attempting to complete my day zero list, it is satisfying to know that I will be ticking three items off once this is posted!

As said in a previous post, I will tick off any ongoing goals as completed once I feel like they have become habit. Well, here is one of the big ones I really wanted to achieve; I am reading again.

To give you a little background, I applied to read English at university aged 17. I was good at it and found it pretty easy, so I thought 'why not'? The reason not to became apparent when I had an epiphany in class one day. It was simple, to the point, almost abrupt. The point was that I hated English. I hated it. I hated what felt to me like tearing literature apart limb from limb until so many limbs had been torn off that the soul of the story was no longer intact. I pulled out of university and, sadly, stopped reading. I had been so overcooked academically that I no longer had any wish to read.

Being 24 now, I wanted to make a concerted effort to reconcile myself to reading, an activity I had once savoured. Oh boy, have I ever! My appetite for books recently has been voracious. I have been gobbling up adventures, biographies, and more than a little Jane Austen (side note: if you are reading this and thinking that her books are 'just for girls', you are an idiot. Fact). I now read every night before bed without fail. It is distressing to me when I am almost anywhere after 10:30, because it means that I am not in bed. With my book. 'Why am I here?' I think to myself. 'Where is my camomile tea and my duvet? This is unacceptable.' FYI, I know I am an old lady, and I am TOTALLY OK with that.

We now come to the second item on the agenda, being fasting. This was a biggie. I love food. Food is central to my life. Rarely a night goes by without me spending at least 40 minutes cooking myself a meal. I eat well. I also eat a lot of meat. And sweeties. Ooooooooh sweeties.

I came to the realisation that food controls too much of my life. I eat when I am hungry, yes, but I also eat when I am sad. Or lonely. Or tired. Or even just bored. I wanted to discipline myself, and I felt that it was something God was saying, so I decided to do the Daniel fast for lent. This is essentially veganism with no sweets, bread or pasta. And I was grumpy. I mean, for a little while, I was just an unpleasant human being. However, I began to see the benefits, and I am now honestly able to say that vegans, vegetarians and all abstainers of food of some kind, I get it. No, really. I have never felt so clean and energetic in my life. It was bloody hard work, but so worth doing. It ain't ever gonna be permanent, but I might actually cut out all the crap in my diet every once in a while because I felt so good.

My last one was that I wanted to watch the sun rise over St Andrews. There is a lovely tradition here of a sunrise service on Easter. I went to it with my parents and, as with any small town, saw many familiar faces.

Now, I must be honest and tell you that I did not witness the entire sunrise. We came towards the tail end of it, but singing hymns in the ruins of a medieval cathedral overlooking the sea on a gorgeous, clear, crisp day is a pretty special thing. It was made all the more special when three dolphins started to jump out of the water in the bay. At this time, I should have been serene, taken it all in calmly and just meditated on the moment. But then, I am me. 'MUM!! MUUUUUUUM! LOOK! DOOOOOLPHIIIIIIIIIIINS!!!!!'. In my defence though, the whole thing was pretty magical. You gotta give me the moment of being a five-year-old!

Number 50 - Magic birthdays, high tea and family

Everyone has a magic birthday. Mine was on the 24th of December, 2011. Yes, I turned 24, and I decided it was a Big Deal. I decided my magic birthday was going to be a Big Deal long ago, but my expectations were surpassed by three wonderful people: my parents and my younger sister.
As a Christmas Eve baby, the location of my birthday has always been dictated to me. I was not in my beloved Scotland this year, which saddened me simply because it is my home. The whole family (minus my older sister and brother-in-law, who were the only things lacking on my birthday) were down in London. Even in the big smoke, it is difficult to find things to do on Christmas Eve. In most places, things are not open because, hey, it's Christmas Eve. In London, however, the things that are open are usually packed for family outings.

There had been suggestions of opera (not on), ballet (booked out), galleries (all closed), and then I remembered that I had high tea on my 101 list. (Side note: I have just realised that the birthday suggestions listed make me sound super and cultured. I wish I was as sophisticated as those activities suggest. I would wear elbow length black gloves and smoke, probably.) My lovely mum booked us a table for tea at Brown's hotel in Mayfair (!), and we decided that we'd have a wander around London before we went.

My sister and I took some truly ridiculous pictures on our way to the hotel, and I realised while trying to clamber onto one of the Trafalgar Square lions that I am less flexible than your average foot-thick steel girder. Still, I had so much fun!

When we got to Brown's, there was ACTUALLY a man in a top hat and tails who opened the door. No lie. It was amazing. As he opened the door, I decided to pretend that I was exceedingly rich and that I do this kind of thing all the time. I gave him the sort of smile the sophisticated, black-gloved smoker version of me would have given, and we were welcomed into the tea rooms.

All of the staff sounded French. All of them. Was this deliberate? Did they want to give it a further air of sophistication? Was the pianist playing a baby grand not enough of a giveaway? Apparently not. However, it did feel more special having all the French accents around. This probably makes me a tad ridiculous. I am OK with that.

Guys, if you are feeling wealthy one day and you happen to be in London, go to tea at Brown's. It was utterly wonderful. They kept bringing food. It did not stop! The mini-scones melted in your mouth, the wee sandwiches were what I imagine sandwiches would taste like in heaven, and the cakes... well, words are not sufficient to describe the cakes. The selection of teas was astounding, and they were the most delicious things ever.

As if all this weren't enough, right in the middle of tea, the pianist stopped. He started playing 'Happy Birthday' as the waiting staff brought out a candle and cake on an iced plate that also wished me a happy birthday. Everyone in the tea rooms sang along, and my mum cried. True story. I don't know if I have ever felt so special in my entire life, and I was able to share the moment with some of my all time favourite people.

I didn't want to leave, but leaving was made worth it when my mum put her coat on over her enormous bag and started to look like Quasimodo in the middle of one of London's smartest hotels. We then went to the big Odeon in Leicester Square where all the premieres are held (a big thrill for a movie lover like me. 'Meryl Streep could have peed in this very toilet', etc.), and as we were all going home, laughing like drains at slightly inappropriate jokes as is standard for my family, I realised something: my family are my friends. I am so blessed to be able to say that. My family are wonderful people whose company I enjoy, and I laugh with them probably more than I laugh with anyone else.

My family are also my friends. This is a rare and beautiful thing, and I am so lucky to be able to call both those who were present and my absent, beloved sister and brother-in-law, my friends.

My magic birthday was filled with small, special and unforgettable events that I honestly think I will cherish forever, but it was those fabulous people who I spent with it who made it the treasure it truly was. Thanks for giving me one of the best days of my life.

Number 81 - On the road to becoming a classy lassie

Ladies, we all know the following to be true: if we are make up wearers, an item that we should all possess is a good red lipstick. You know, the one that makes you look like you've stepped out of the 1940's and makes you feel super glamorous, like one of those perfume advert women who have one hundred stubbly, attractive men in suits gazing at you in wonder and awe, as you sweep through the room in your silk gown and glare slightly, as perfume advert women seem to be prone to doing. Yeah, that lipstick.

I haven't got one of those cool, edgy faces. I look like a porcelain doll, but I figure you gotta work with what you've got, so I decided that yesterday was the day to make my lipstick purchase. I was going into town for a hair appointment. Now, my confession today is that, before yesterday, I had never been to a 'big girl' hair salon. I'm lucky with my hair. It's generally pretty good quality, falls straight and doesn't need any real maintenance (which is just as well, as hair is one of those things I seem incapable of understanding. Number 29 should sort that, see http://dayzeroproject.com/user/hannahelizabeth), so I've gone for a cheap and cheerful cut every time. However, the fabulous Groupon provided me with an oppourtunity to do this for the first time on the cheap, so off I went.

Much as I hate to say it, it's worth it. I left feeling amazing. They treated you like royalty. I got my hair dyed darker, and as I left the shop, Tom Jones was singing 'She's a Lady' in my head. It was awesome, and I had my strut on.

I went to the Debenhams make up counters. Now, at this time of year, doing this is a little terrifying. There are hundreds of women grabbing products left, right and centre, and I was overwhelmed. Seriously, the fear that some brush-brandishing beast from Yves Saint Laurent is going to stab your eye out with a mascara wand is an entirely justified one around Christmas. I ducked and dived my way through the crowds to the Mac make up counter, as they've always had a good range.

I was browsing away for about three seconds when a woman came up and asked me if I needed some help. I explained that I wanted a good, red lipstick. She immediately had about a thousand suggestions, all of which she flicked onto the skin of her hand with a brisk stab, and then she took me over to the chairs to try some on. Having explained I knew little about make up, she then gave me a tutorial on how to apply it all properly, and rushed to and fro from me to the lipstick stand until I found exactly what I wanted, coming up with some suggestions that I would never have picked up but actually looked pretty good. If any women out there are reading this who, like me, are very unsure about lipstick and want to give it a shot, I highly recommend the Mac make up counter. They are brilliant!

Of course, once I had my lipstick, I felt the need to just look at the liquid liner. Just look, y'know, not buy... whoops. I ended up buying more than I meant to, but leaving that counter, I did feel like a million dollars. I went on to spend an amount of money on myself that is absolutely unforgivable around Christmas. I don't regret it yet, but probably will in a couple of days. My family may not get presents, but I'll look good this Christmas. That's enough, right?

Numbers 23 and 31 - Wishes and intentional fun

So, today is, obviously, a magical day. 11/11/11. Unfortunately on this most fantasmogorical of days, I am still in bed. Bed is where I have been for close to a month, recovering from what is essentially THE PLAGUE. I am now suffering from post-black death fatigue, but starting to regain my energy bit by bit, and my mental capacities along with it, hence why I finally feel capable of writing an entry today.

'The plan' for today had been to do 11 fun things (stolen shamelessly from another friend who had done the same thing on 10/10/10 last year). However, having missed so much university at this point, the priority has to be getting myself well enough to work again, so instead I embark upon day 23 in bed, most of which consists of watching the West Wing, writing a novel (see no. 94) and enjoying the fact that I am now well enough to stomach eating something other than uncooked noodles.

However, I did manage to have my glimmer of fun today. I got an internet clock up on my computer screen that would show me the time to the very second, and at 11:11:11 on 11/11/11, I made a wish. Now, I know that all of my millions of dear readers are quite desperate to find out what my wish was, but, of course, it will not come true if I tell anyone, let alone post it on the internet, Sorry, folks, you're just gonna have to make something up. Total let down, I know. If anyone is reading this out there, post a comment below and make up what you think my wish was. The wildest and weirdest gets a prize... or somethin'.

Anyway, this post is also about my number 31. My number 31, to do something fun each week, may sound silly. However, the reason I wrote it down was because I realised that I am rarely intentional about doing things that I want to do. There are so many obligations, so many 'shoulds' (that never seem to get done anyway) that sometimes I know I have missed out on enjoying my life. I don't resent my obligations most of the time. They make you a responsible person when you do them, and that is never a bad thing. However, I don't want to look back on my life and realise that there was a period of time where I didn't really enjoy anything.

I took a rather stark look at myself a couple of months ago and became aware that my default setting for going out and doing stuff was 'no'. I then figured out that there was no reason that this was the case, and so I secretly experimented with myself, and vowed that I would say 'yes' to ANYTHING I was invited to as long as it didn't clash with any other invitations, and do you know what? I was markedly happier. I was a little more tired, but I was just enjoying my life more than I have in years.

Having gone from that to being in bed for so long, I am now fully invested in fun. Being isolated for this long certainly makes you appreciate being out and about and healthy more, I can tell you! I am invested in being intentionally active in enjoyment of life, which is the reason I feel I can cross it off the list. There are many others in progress, but they will be ticked off once I know I have created a habit. Fun is now something I recognise as a very basic and simple way to be more joyful day to day, and I have no intention of going back. Embrace the good times people, and I will hopefully be posting some more entries with my adventures soon. I know it's been a long time, but progress is being made, slowly but surely.

Until next time, kids!