I’m feeling better on the depression front. Depression ends much of life’s momentum when it’s in the ascendancy so it’s good that it ebbs and flows. And since, to paraphrase the immortal Timmy, it’s currently flocking the other way, I’m writing again. When I can get a word in edgewise. Depression’s wane gives my eating disordered thinking the opening it was looking for. It’s not … Continue reading Recovery, lying, and intergalactic attacks.
This piece talks about suicide which may trigger some. Be mindful. I have a pink leather Kate Spade purse I rarely use. Never use. I’m going to keep it anyway. For one thing, it sparks joy. It’s too small for my wallet, too casual for an evening bag, and too lush to toss into a backpack as a backup hold-all. It’s essentially useless. But it’s … Continue reading I’m keeping the purse.
It’s not that I’ve not been writing. It’s that I hate every word and send my attempts to the electronic paper shredder in the sky. All of it was meandering crap I couldn’t bear to look at. Pointlessly pointless. Unfortunately, regular deleting has a deleterious effect on productivity. New plan. No deleting. Post the less than perfect. This may backfire and result in zero writing. … Continue reading Free-form posting.
I like to look out the window at the neighbour’s lilac tree and watch the life therein. I positioned my desk well even if the “back to the door” of my chair occasionally gives me heebie-jeebies. Sometimes, life watches back: the squirrels and chickadees are infinitely curious about what’s going on behind the monitor and I swear the hummingbird wants to start something. … Continue reading Lilacs, birds, and pink-slips.
