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Hope in a Hairball

2/19/2016

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"Deep breaths, sweetie." This is what I say to my cat, Beans, as she struggles with an upcoming hairball that obstructs her breathing. I say this, and set an example with my own breath. Good thing, because I've been on a chaotic ride with my emotions today. I hate rides. This kind is particularly scary because I don't get to tell myself that it'll be over in a few minutes. That I won't have to endure it again. To do so--to say that--would be cruel. Being honest is tough, but necessary, and lying is often more exhausting anyway. But, sometimes, the truth is just so distasteful--so unsatisfying.

Funny, lately I've almost exclusively been reading and writing nonfiction.  Maybe that's why I've been so depressed.

Having said that, I'm not sure that picking up my copy of Dune or revisiting my character notes/story ideas would be of much help. Then again, you never know. At least it's something different. Maybe that's what's been missing...change. Movement. Speaking of movement, it's probably time I get off the couch.

As for Beans, as usual, she sets an example by doing what she needs to do for herself at a given moment. Right now, that means curling up in a ball and slowing her breathing, while listening to relaxing music.

​Until next time, here is some music. Some Mascis. Beans approves. 
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Sunday Night Surmising

10/4/2015

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 After spending a quiet evening reading, I decided to dig out one of my old, seldom used, journals and begin writing. 

What started out as the usual grumblings about stress and anxiety, turned out to be an epiphany of sorts. A moment of clarity. 

Scattered thoughts became organized, and I came to the realization that I might be happier and more successful  if I applied the same strategies  I used to write essays in school to my life.  

​I was writing about making a plan--mapping it out--when I begged the question, "Did I ever write an essay without planning?" The answer, an immediate "no!"  

Suddenly, I found myself dissecting the essay-writing process.

​"Beginning with observations  scrawled  on a page, thoughts linked together by arrows heading in all directions, some of which lead to ideas incased in bubbles (almost always in cloud shapes). I start focusing on key points--what interests me and/or confuses me most. Then I work through it. Dig down. Do research. Find evidence. I immerse myself in the chaos without being too concerned with answers, but I almost always find them. Things become clear. I gain confidence. I feel buzzed. Things are exciting. They get figured out and, in the end, I feel accomplished."  

So, if I approach my woes with the gusto of writing an essay, perhaps I might just get to the bottom of things. Or, at least, enjoy the process.    


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Who is KR?

9/19/2015

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Upon scrolling around my website and sorting through my blog drafts, I found myself stuck on this one. Who is KR?

KR is actually a nickname given to me by my dad when I was a little girl, but the question currently seems suspended--hovering without a definite answer. 

Nothing like a good old fashioned mid-thirties identity crisis to cap off your night. I'm such a cliche. 

I think identity crises are much more productive in your twenties. At least then you have the energy and naiveté to believe in change. To actually create change. To improve.  

Okay, I'm not really that much of a downer, but I'm really, really tired. It's not even 10:00 at night and I'm already considering heading to bed. The reality is, though, I'm tired almost all the time. And, because of that, my mind is perpetually unclear. 

That's how I find myself turning question marks into actual questions. 

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I'm currently trying to work on a project, and this is when I tend to distract myself the most, typically with inane bullshit.

Sometimes I just get in my head and rattle things around, hoping to make enough noise to wake myself up. But all that ends up happening is that I get flustered and overwhelmed with too many thoughts and I shut down. 

Either that, or I watch a few episodes of The X-Files or True Blood, gap out on Twitter or Etsy or, if I'm at least partially coherent, I'll sit in bed and read. 

Maybe going to bed early isn't such a bad idea after all. I can sense my negative voice trying get a word in here and there and I'm really not into listening.

Perhaps tomorrow will bring clarity but, if not, that's okay. I know for sure that it will bring coffee. 

 



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    It Hatched...

    I'm finally doing it--pulling my insides out and splattering them around for all to see. Here we go!

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