So it’s February!  And, as is usually the case at this time of year, it would seem that approximately half of the blogging world is involved in some kind of project, whether it’s outfit posting, writing about the little things in life, or simply taking a photo every day and sharing it.

In line with my abstention from making New Year’s resolutions, I have decided not to hop onto any monthly challenge bandwagons in 2012 (I am, however, reading everyone’s updates!).  Instead, I will attempt to proceed just as normal: read more books, have more adventures, live as fully as I can (the latter is meant both in a big picture – travel, career, love, philosophy – and small picture – “OMG just bloody well IRON your favourite pencil skirt so you might actually be able to wear it!” – kind of way).  I will make pancakes on the 21st though, that much I can guarantee you…

I’m also attempting this year (and every year since I came across Eckhart Tolle for that matter) to focus on what’s happening now and what I can do about it, rather than on what might happen in the future and what I might or might not be able to do about it then.  And on that note, while I will wholeheartedly embrace Spring when it arrives, I’m not going to wish my February away, or hide from the fact that it’s still Winter, still cold outside and still dark far more than it really needs to be.  Imperfect as it may be, the reality is that life is happening now.  In February.  In the cold, in the wind, and in the dark.  This month I’m going to put an extra base layer on, get out there and do stuff.

Image above from here.

It somewhat surprises me that, for all I like to think of myself as a culturally astute young lady, until yesterday I’d never once been to see a ballet.  I used to go to ballet classes when I was young but, as my ever-encouraging teacher was so fond of telling us, we were “about as graceful as a herd of elephants” (in case anyone ever needs to know, this is exactly the right way to make a bunch of five year-olds despise ballet dancing, if not develop group eating disorders).

But childhood scarring aside, I think the main reason I’ve never been to the ballet is that I have a bit of a thing about story lines.  I like to follow them near-obsessively, somewhat like a devoted sniffer dog at a baggage carousel.  If I become even temporarily lost or confused by a book or a film I’m liable to crossing my arms and huffing.  I’m definitely not the best at sitting back and letting something wash over me.

But ever since I saw The Artist a couple of weeks ago I’ve become slightly more open to the idea that you really don’t need to have dialogue, or a narrator, to follow something.  That actions really can speak louder than words, if you’ll mind the cliché.  The Artist was incredibly easy to follow as it turned out – the music, the facial expressions and the movement all played their part in ensuring the audience wasn’t left in the dark.

And the same, by and large, goes for the ballet.  Although there were a couple of moments yesterday where I found myself thinking, “but wasn’t she…?” or “but why is he…?”, on the whole, I got it.  And small pockets of minor incomprehension were not even remotely capable of spoiling the fun I was having overall.  Because therein lies the other thing about ballet: it’s just so pretty to look at that it doesn’t really matter if you’re just a wee bit lost, some of the time.  In fact, the storyline almost becomes irrelevant, so profoundly enjoyable is it to sit in front of a live orchestra and to watch colourful tutus, lithe limbs and pointed toes as they leap and float around a stage.

I was amazed by how much I loved it.  Ballet?  A. Good. Thing.

What new stuff have you tried recently?

Image above from here.

I was pondering updating my What I’m Reading page earlier, and in doing so got to reminiscing about all the many books that have come into and gone out of my life over the past year or so.  I love to keep a note of the books I’ve read, mainly because I seem to use them as a means of mapping out my life.  Last year, for example, I remember finishing New Europe by Michael Palin on one of the windiest days we had, when going outside wasn’t even an option.  I also vividly remember reading Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert on the grass in front of the leaning tower of Pisa in May, when the sun was so hot I couldn’t possibly have walked anywhere other than the nearest gelato kiosk.  Books are to me what I guess diaries are to people who use them properly: a record of one’s life, and a reminder of the little things that have happened that we might otherwise simply forget in our haste to keep moving forward.

With all the free time I had last Summer and all the many bus journeys I seem to have taken since starting my new job, I seem to have managed to read an impressive pile of books over the course of the past 12 months.  So in case you find yourself looking for a little literary inspiration this January, here are some recommendations based on what I’ve read and enjoyed recently.

If you want to read a classic but you dislike ‘the classics’, read Jane Eyre.  The writing is digestible, the characters aren’t annoying and although it’s a love story at heart it’s not sickly sweet and schmaltzy.  I read this during the first couple of weeks at my new job last September.  It was welcome respite at the end of busy days full of new faces and things.

If you want to laugh really hard until you think you might pee a little, read either Bossypants by Tina Fey, or Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby.  Either one will produce the desired effect.

If you want to be gripped, read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  I blame this book (and its two sequels) for many a groggy-headed morning in October and November.  I literally couldn’t put it down.  Not even for sleep, or to finish making a cup of tea.

If you want to learn things you’ll remember and that will make you sound knowledgeable, read A Little History of the World by E.H. Gombrich.  This is definitely in my top 3 reads from last year.  It’s full of interesting stuff, but it’s also written in such a way that reading it doesn’t feel like learning.  In fact, reading it feels like drinking hot chocolate in front of a roaring log fire while it snows outside.  It’s perfect.

If you want to escape, read His Dark Materials trilogy.  There are enough ideas in these three books to keep you thinking for months, and enough magic to rival the whole Harry Potter back-catalogue.

If you want to cry (sometimes I genuinely do want this from a book), read Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer.  This quickly became one of my favourite books of all time, and I read the whole thing in one evening.  It’s brilliant, and heart-breaking, and all kinds of life-affirming all at once.  I can’t recommend it highly enough.

If you just want to be entertained, read Boiling a Frog by Christopher Brookmyre.  This didn’t change the way I see the world, and it didn’t cause me profound, deep thoughts or the loss of any sleep.  But it was funny, it was intriguing and it really did entertain me.  And sometimes, when it comes to a book, that’s really all you need, isn’t it?

What have you read recently that’s worth recommending?

Image above from here.

This week has been all about getting back in the saddle, in the literal, as well as the figurative sense.  I’ve made six out of ten journeys to and from work on my bike (I’m building my way up to at least eight), I’ve eaten lots of salad and I’ve been trying to go to bed a little bit earlier each night.  I’ve also been giving my bank account a bit of a New Year’s detox.  Nothing too strenuous (it’s still January and dark at 4.30pm after all), but a little less takeaway coffee and a complete ban on entering all branches of Waterstones are helping me to stay the financial course until the end of the month.  Come February I will be firing on four cylinders of debt busting, travel planning awesomeness (such is the plan anyway).

That said, I have been allowing myself the odd pleasure-inducing purchase here and there this month: some reduced price flowers which I can never seem to walk past (it’s something about their being so shrivelled and pathetic-looking – it tugs right at my heartstrings in the same way a sick puppy might), a candle that makes my bathroom smell like roses to the extent that I actually find myself making up excuses to visit it and, lastly, a new (to me!  For £4!) stripey duvet cover and matching pillow cases that have given my bedroom an instant burst of January…something.

I’ve also been back at the cinema this week, after a little festive hiatus when I opted for “seen five hundred times but what the hell” as opposed to “oh, that looks new and interesting”.  On Wednesday I watched The Iron Lady, which above all else I thought was a fantastically acted, immensely moving portrait of dementia, and last night I went to see The Artist which, despite some initial trepidation (I was fully braced for another “Uh, WHAT?” session of Tree of Life proportions) I absolutely loved.  It’s gorgeous, funny, stylish and completely unlike anything I’ve seen before.  One hundred per cent worth a watch if you have time on your hands this weekend and even the smallest of affections for 1920s glamour.  In case you remain to be convinced, there’s a brief but really great review of it here.

This weekend I plan to finish this book which I’ve been reading for what feels like forever, make some progress with crocheting my first patchwork quilt and perhaps have a go at making focaccia bread to sweeten up my Sunday.

What’s been turning your world this week?  Do tell!

Image above from here.

The battle may not be visible.  But you can be assured it is happening.

Happy Friday, friends.

Image above from here.