Is your glass half full?

If your glass is half full, or even half empty, then hurry up and drink it. Cliches piss me off.

I don’t think anybody can be ‘glass half empty’ or ‘glass half full’, or either positive or negative in their outlook all the time. Some days my cup overfloweth with sparkling wine that magically refills when I turn my head to make tinkly musical conversation in the sunshine. (I’d have said French champagne, but come on. Reeality, Puhleeease.) Other days I don’t even have a glass. I have a stupid plastic cup with a split in it. It leaks watered-down orange cordial up my arm. I’m not all of one or another. I’m a grey area.

Nerdy pedants. Possibly even worst than those who live and die by the cliche.

Nerdy pedants. Possibly even worse than those who live and die by the cliche.

With the grey area, though, comes so much exhausting thought, analysis, should I or shouldn’t I, what should I wear, will they mind if I say no, what’s the appropriate thing in this situation, I hope they’re ok, god I have a lot of pimples on my back, where is my goddamn wine, my feet really hurt I wish I could just wear flats, that sometimes I wish I was more like THAT MAN.

That Man is an All-Or-Nothing man. Than man has a full glass. Or he has an empty glass. If the glass is full, he drinks it. Then it’s empty. Then it’s full again. It’s an approach I think I should try. In fact, I think I am sort of trying it, inadvertently. Lately, I’m just living. Not thinking too hard. Working very hard (out 11 hours a day), home to the kids, being a mum hard, then relaxing hard (for half an hour). Then sleeping hard. Weekends are full of the girls, working on the garden, being with my family. Sleeping. Not blogging, as I’m just not sure when to do it. My girls are like saplings, turning into little trees so quickly I don’t feel I can look away for a second at the moment or I’ll miss something.

Yeh, OK. I'll accept this is officially full. But shots of MILK? Get. It. Gone.

Yeh, OK. I’ll accept this is officially full. But shots of MILK? Get. It. Gone.

I like That Man’s approach, in many ways. If my glass veers towards empty, or yours or someone else’s definition of ‘empty’, fill it up, bitch. (Sorry. Breaking Bad. Seeping into my vernacular.) If you’re jumping out of a plane, I see how it’s useful. Suspend all thought, throw your body out of the plane, then toss your brain out after it. Oh yeah. Pull the parachute too. If he’s exercising, he’s doing it 4-5 times per week, eating no carbs, and dropping weight like, well… like a pregnant woman becoming un-pregnant. But when he’s not exercising? He’s not all ‘errr, no. I won’t have chips, I haven’t exercised this week. I’ll skip dessert. I’ve only been to the gym once.’ He’s just not doing it. At all. But he’s eating, and enjoying it, and not thinking about it. Then he’ll get back to it again. And he’s happy. It’s not very healthy, but he’s not torn up about it either.

Better. Much better. This is almost full enough.

Better. Much better. This is almost full enough.

I think All-Or-Nothing types are subconsciously living a bit Matrix-style, inside the program, as Mumabulous was discussing the other day in her awesomely mind-bending post. I love the idea that we’re living inside a place that has no real consequence, though I don’t believe it. The All-Or-Nothing kids seem to have this sort of mentality, that the consequences aren’t there. Flying by the seat of their pants, so to speak. It would be a whole lot easier to say no, living in this world, and do what works for you. Perhaps the opportunity for personal happiness and contentment would even be greater. Woah. I’m getting a bit philosophical now for a (what day is it?) morning.

But now. The drawbacks. It’s not all fun and games in All-Or-Nothing land. Saturday night That Man went to see a show in Asquith, about 6 stops up the train line (to the north). At 2:30 Sunday morning, a text came through: ‘ah duck. Penriff. Sere u when I getting there’. Instead of having a snooze on the way home, between stops, he went to sleep All-Or-Nothing style. Like there was no tomorrow, and he was tucked up in his bed. And caught a train almost to the Blue Mountains (due west), about 1.5 hours away. Poor petal.

I see dragons...

I see dragons…

I will dip my toe into All-Or-Nothing land, but I don’t think it’s for me. Consequences. They suck. And sometimes half a glass is elegant sufficiency.