Bitch on the Blog

May 9, 2018

Opposites and their attractions

What do you do if you want to go wean yourself off something – can be anything, not just hard core addiction? Say, for instance, and I know why my father pops into my mind this minute, you were addicted to being obsessively tidy – would you be able to leave alone for a week, not to say a WEAK, and see where it leads? Would you? Or would you just procrastinate?

I am a going-cold-turkey type of person: Just do it. And a procrastinator.

Cold Turkey and Procrastinator: The combo from hell. My Procrastinator (Motto: Tomorrow) being top dog, Cold Turkey (Motto: NOW, and determined) being strung along for the ride. Myself? I am in the fascinating grip of conflicting interests wrestling it out.

Around New Year 2017/18 I decided, for mostly rational and many valid ones too, to give blogging a miss. And what a fine mess my Procrastinator made of it, Cold Turkey (amply supported by the Angel who thinks blogging a waste of time) being on the loosing wicket. A fly caught in a sticky spider’s web has nothing on me.

So, what do you do when you feel you need to break a habit that brings you nothing but joy?





  1. Break it.

    Comment by rummuser — May 9, 2018 @ 13:52 | Reply

    • Considering the salesman you once were I can see your USP’s attraction.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2018 @ 15:43 | Reply

  2. “So, what do you do when you feel you need to break a habit that brings you nothing but joy?”

    I belong to a lot of groups for pregnant women and generally speaking I love to read their stories and contribute answers to their questions but just sometimes I get totally frustrated by their lack of research/ learned helplessness/ unwillingness to think.
    First I vow to stop answering their questions, then I take a deep breath, walk away and remind myself that they are the product of a system and a society. And tomorrow I start doing the same all over again

    Comment by kylie — May 9, 2018 @ 13:58 | Reply

    • I don’t know much about pregnant women. I was a deliriously happy one, joined an ante natal group, followed – some months later – by the (same) post natal. Made lots of friends. Was totally useless as one them, one of the best and totally out of, Irish, was gripped by post natal hysteria NOT noticed by me. I am ashamed to this day – and we are talking twenty five years later – that I never picked up on her misery. What with the Irish gene – talk about generalizing – taking her straight down to the bottom of the bottle.

      Back to you. In your position you are a teacher. And, by definition, teachers do have to be patient. Rome wasn’t built in a day, before your pupil knows what two and two amounts to they have get to grips with the numeral one.

      I think it a great shame, judging by what I read and what you touch on (“system and society”), that a lot of common sense and instinct has left the pregnant and new mum’s room. When I was little my mother, my aunts, everyone, had kids. A tradition upheld by both my sisters (the two of them have nine between them). There was no angst. There was a lot of breast feeding. Though I do hold the record among my siblings (leaving my brother aside) that the Angel wasn’t bottle fed. Not once. I know this makes me lots of enemies who think I am smug. I am not. It’s just a fact. He didn’t have a bottle till, many years later, he had his first beer.

      Good luck, Kylie, with your lot and mission. Leave irritation where it belongs (a hole) and reassure those out of their depths, build their confidence in their own ability. Which reminds me: Where are THEIR mothers to do just that?


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2018 @ 15:43 | Reply

      • half the time, it is their mothers who are the problem!

        Comment by kylie — May 9, 2018 @ 23:57 | Reply

  3. I replace the habit for a new habit, i.e, I replaced smoking with vaping, and I’ve recently replaced Instagram with concentrating on my blog and actually doing calligraphy rather than looking at other people’s.

    Comment by Scarlet — May 9, 2018 @ 14:32 | Reply

    • I enjoyed smoking too. The four years I had of it. Enter FOS (father of son). It was him or the elegance of Lauren Bacall. I chose him. And a fine choice too. Otherwise the Angel wouldn’t have seen the light of day and be my joy.

      You mention Instagram. I am fascinated by it in as much as I visit galleries and museums. Unless I am missing something it appears that I am allowed to look at Instagram in detail ONLY when signing up. What would I sign up with? Sarcasm and bite hardly makes for a visual, does it?

      As to the distinction you make between “doing” and “looking at other people’s”. There is conflict. No doubt. I’d say looking at others’ gives us inspiration, impetus, different angles of how to look at one and the same. Art, any art, is not competition. Ideally, that is. And where do ideals leave us. Jackson Pollock and Albert Camus kissing a tree is not the answer.

      Good luck, Scarlet. One of these days I’ll ask you what the ideal, visually pleasing in absence of my own handwriting, font would be to transcribe all my cooking, kitchen and other wisdom, for the Angel to pursue once I am not around any longer to answer his questions,


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2018 @ 15:42 | Reply

  4. If it is that important than break it. Bite the bullet – and add plenty of mayo to that cold turkey. But frankly if it brings you that much joy I see no reason to quit. I think you enjoy the battles –

    Comment by Chuck McConvey — May 9, 2018 @ 15:09 | Reply

    • Thanks for entering yet another dimension, Chuck: What constitutes “important”? I dimly remember, once upon a time, being taught the difference between “urgent” and “important”. Currently the two overlap – blogging being my water cooler moment. Chilling. Time out. Frivolity. Playtime.

      You are right, heartfelt sigh, I do enjoy “the battles”. As character references go please do not mention it should I ask you for one [character reference that is].


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 9, 2018 @ 15:57 | Reply

  5. Life’s too short to give up that which brings you real joy………….. which leaves me where exactly? Smelling the flowers perhaps.

    Comment by magpie11 — May 9, 2018 @ 17:41 | Reply

    • And don’t forget the joy of “growing cabbages”, Magpie, not to mention horseradish – the flowers of which, in the light of a recent exchange, will possibly amuse me to the end of my days. I might ask the Angel to plant horseradish on my grave. To keep me alive.

      There is such simple pleasure in your “smelling the flowers” I sigh with happiness being transported back to the meadows of my childhood.

      In fact, not that one should give away the little mysteries of our lives, “meadow” is my mantra when I can’t sleep because some pesky thought on a loop keeps me awake in the middle of the night. All I need to do in such dire circumstance is to evoke the memory of walking through the summer meadows of my earliest childhood and, magically, I will drift off into dreamland. Content, safe.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 10, 2018 @ 02:20 | Reply

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