Would you just take it easy man?

Between the ages of about twelve and twenty, whenever I spoke with my mother over the phone, she would inevitably tell me at some point in our conversation to slow down.

Seriously, all I need to do is just sit here and close my eyes, and I can actually hear her voice, pleading for respite from the verbal onslaught – my machine gun volley of words.

“HOLD IT!” She would exclaim. “Hold it! I can’t understand a single thing that you are saying!”

This is the kind of place I imagine my mother went to as I motor-mouthed through our conversation.

I would, of course, laugh to myself, or perhaps let out one of those larger than life exasperation-heavy sighs, so well-cultivated and practiced by the teenage set, before jabbering on a like a monkey in a tree.

Maybe I’d slow my speech a tad (though it is unlikely) because the news of my latest exploits, or how cute the boy I danced with was, or could she please come pick me up like right now because I am freeeeeezing – well, these were pieces of news of such importance, that if I didn’t push my words out of my mouth as fast as I possibly could, their significance might be forever lost, and my life would end, and I would have to cede the title of “most fascinating teenager EVER” to the next fastest-talking teen (aka my little sister.)

Or something in that regard.

Why, you might ask yourself, am I telling you all this?

The answer, my friends, is because there are a few areas in my life in which I am going to try to slow the heck down.

I'm going to smell the flowers.

I am going to breathe. And then breathe again.

Seriously, from this day out, my goal is to make a conscious effort to take five, (or smell the roses, or drive the scenic route, or whatever) in the following three areas of my life, because my need for speed is mucking things up and it’s starting to grind my gears.

Let’s dive right in:

1.)    Proof reading my blog posts.

So. I love this blog. Like, SO MUCH.

And I love writing. But I’ve never loved reading my writing with a critical line-edit eye. In fact, I really can’t stand the slow once over, nor do I enjoy reading my work out loud (in a proof reading sense.)

This always came back to bite me in the butt during my uni days. I would always need to option out the final edit of my essays to lovely, selfless friends (or, you know, Mr. M, who – to his credit – was responsible for overviewing approximately 97.4% of my typo-free academic work).

If I didn’t put my stuff through this last minute check, then I was doomed to the “[insert positive feedback here – but would have benefited from one last final proofread]” professorial comment.

Urg. How I hated that comment.

A huge better-late-than-never apology to all of my professors!

It’s just that after immersing myself full-tilt in the subject matter, and then spending a crap-load of time crafting a sweet, sweet argument, and then writing a sweet, sweet paper, the thought of reading over my words one more time after all of that effort, actually made me feel as though my brain was bleeding out of my ears.

Who wants to sit in front of a compy for longer than they need to?

There is really only so much critical analysis a young gal can handle.

Anywho, what I’m trying to say is that this academic habit of mine has now translated into the horrible trend of not checking over these posts before hitting the fatal “publish” button. This leaves me scrambling for quite a while afterwards (depending of course of the post), cleaning up all my nit-picky errors – most of which are a result of typing too fast.

See folks! Again, what do I find myself doing? Pushing out ideas that I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT as quickly as I possibly can, without fully acknowledging that the people who will actually be reading these posts need to actually, you know, understand what it is I am trying to communicate.

Sheesh.

Mom! You were right all along!

But I’m working on it.

2. Eating too fast when I am hungry

Especially if the food is mega-tasty.

Now, to be fair, I’m of the mind that when you’re hungry enough, anything will taste good.

(My earliest memory pertaining to this theory is from the age of six, when my mom picked me up from my piano lesson and was driving me to my next activity – highland dancing practice. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch that day at school and she offered me a banana flavoured granola bar.)

At that time in my life I pretty much equated “banana” with horse manure, so you can imagine my reticence at scarfing that bad boy down.

But the rumble in my tummy persisted, and my resolve broke, and as I gobbled up that bar, I so clearly remember thinking “wow, this tastes AMAZING!”

Today at lunch I ate these scrumptious fish tacos:

Epic noms.

However, because the majority of my morning was comprised of working with my hair on fire, followed by a lunch hour – which actually wasn’t made up of lunch, but a brisk walk across downtown Vancouver and back with J (which was beautiful and hilarious and fab.)

Beautiful downtown Vancity.

By the time I bought my food and sat down at my desk I was so ravenous I practically inhaled my meal.

And although the tacos were insanely tasty, it really reminded me that I need to make an effort to chew, chew, chew, when I am hungry.

Because when I hoover everything like the food vacuum I can so easily become, I not only give myself stomach aches, but I practically induce myself into a taco coma.

A “TACOMA” if you will.

3. Developing crushes on famous people (mainly a British problem)

I will watch some dude in one tv show for thirty seconds and immediately I’ll get all shirty over him. This doesn’t happen very often (which is probably why I feel so funny when it does).

It’s a bit ridiculous really.

But luckily, these infatuations are all incredibly short-lived, and often fizzle out before the week is out.

Hmmm.

Actually.

I am going to renege on this point.

Because I am okay with it.

I like my silly little crushes. (And I’m pretty sure they like me too.)

So there you have it! Two areas where I am making a conscious effort to cool my jets.

And in the mean time, I am going to wear my new skirt until it is runs thread-less and bare (and I am incarcerated for indecent exposure.)

What I wore to work today.

And what about you folks? Is there anything in your lives where speed is killing you? Let me know, and we can swap tips on how to best employ the brakes.

P.S. If there are any typos in this (or any future) post, don’t tell me about them. I’ll find them eventually.