On dit que “blanc” ne rime pas avec “enfants”. Bon techniquement… ça rime. Ensuite, je suis de celles qui croit avec ferveur au fait que le blanc se javellise. Maman de trois ou pas, je suis tombée sous le charme de ce salon aux couleurs claires et au lignes intemporelles, qui me rappelle le style Hollywood Regency.
Malgré qu’au premier coup d’oeil la pièce, baignée de lumière, semble toute de blanc vêtue et pourtant. On y remarque rapidement plusieurs teintes de gris et de grège (un mariage entre le gris et le beige), de blush, de turquoise et de rose fuchsia, de vert, et de noir.
It’s been a blistering cold week here in Montréal, and mostly unconsciously, I noticed my eyes kept coming back to anything and everything coming from warmer climates (can you blame me?)
This week also marked the first words types on what shall become a book come the fall. I don’t know what I got myself into, it seems a mountain impossible to climb. Although as in all things my step-father will tell me: “One step in front of the other Vava, one step in from of the other”. So I shall give that mantra a try as I embark on my greatest creative work yet.
As I happened upon this particular & fabulously aspirational loft, I felt that it was just right to end the week. Now, for writer’s inspiration…
Whether she was snipping off the tip of the right index finger on her baby pink gloves or smoking cigarettes on top of the toilet clad in nothing but a flesh-coloured negligée, there was something so lovable and yet unhinged about Margot Tenenbaum. The character and her outfits became instant cult classics and were a turning point in my young adult life & identity (yeah, I know… I had an emo phase too).
I am a lizard, well at least I think I am. I love basking in the sun, lazily sashaying myself from a comfortable spot to another, without any agenda whatsoever.
Over the years, I have come to know myself… all of myself, including my Achilles heel that is discipline. I know I can lift mountains when I set my mind to it, and yet it sometimes seems an impossible feat, even for the simplest of tasks.
What’s worse is that I wasn’t always like this. I remember a time when I could refuse a piece of desert without a pang of envy, or when I could write 10 blogposts in advance in order to have a computer free time off with my family.
I have read the books and listened to the motivational speakers encouraging me, as I listened to their shellacked performances and aspirational pathways on my phone while running. I have written in the progress journals and set myself realistic goals. But it seems that the only goal I can achieve over and over again, is to disappoint myself.
As I now inch, one day at a time, towards my 38th birthday I have come to realize something. Oust shall go the books and all the rest! The only discipline I will now follow will be my own. The one that feels good to me, my reality, and my lazy lizard body.
There, you take that self-esteem! It’s time to get out of your slumber and move your ass, we have a book to write !