Just a Thought

For instance, what if someone were peering at me right now, through their curtains, the inside of their house dark and still – maybe they’re manic depressive. And they look outside and see me, the personification of a defeated sigh wrapped in an overcoat, trudging along the uneven sidewalk.

I’d call the police if it were me.
—Patton Oswalt/Zombie Spaceship Wasteland

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deadpool, a venn diagram, and a stab in the face to depression

I know depression is a theme for me, but I’m doing what I can right now to fight that depression. For me, writing letters and postcards and little notes always gives me such a sense of joy. A giant sense of joy. But the last couple of years every time I’ve sat down at my writing desk and attempted to send something out to a friend, a pen-pal, or a total stranger, it has been a ridiculous struggle. Supremely painful to my brain and my heart.

I’m not really even sure why a cloud has settled over me when it comes to this amazing hobby, but since I started this bullet journal experiment, I am attempting to create realistic goals so that I can feel like I am accomplishing something and not feel like I’m overextending my time and my energy.

Having this great gift of Katie Abey Design stuff arrive around the exact same time that I felt ready to start reaching out again was also a great little bump to my heart. I am certain I owe a million jillion people letters and responses, and I’m crossing my fingers that this great feeling continues and I can keep sending out little smiles.

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Just a Thought

As we age, we become our parents; live long enough and we see faces repeat in time.
—Neil Gaiman/The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

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Find Your Worth

This month I started a bullet journal.
This month I will make an effort.
This month I’m joining weight watchers.
This month my son turns 27.
This month I’m going to keep fighting my depression.

 

You want an awesome card or other art like this? Check out Katie Abey Designs!

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Just a Thought

I thought of years of deportment lessons, and geography. I thought of endless meetings of the cabinet ministry, while the sun shone outside. I thought of treaties, and of shipwrecks. If only I had known. One adverse reaction to a small legume could have spared me years of care and work.
—Kara Coryell/Rose and Silver, Straw and Gold: Fairy Tales Retold/The Princess and The Pea

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all by myself

I’m alone.
I’m in New York.
I’m here to write papers and stories and watch movies and make a short film with a group of students.

I’m sort of at a loss right now as all of this is stuff that I like, but it is weird for me because I’m doing something I really enjoy instead of doing something I am required to do to take care of family or pay my bills.

I mean, I will still be working, I do a lot of work from home right now anyway, but instead of being five minutes away, I am now several hours away from my office. But in essence, everything I am doing is just for me.

Which is scary. Scary, and exciting, and scary again.

Last week I was having a conversation with a co-worker about my trip and the fact that I realized when my flight was confirmed that this is going to be the longest I’ve ever been alone in my entire life. I’m not totally alone obviously, I am house-sitting/cat-sitting for friends, so I have a cat with me, but I’m person alone.

I’m in my mid 40s and I’ve never been person alone for more than 2 days in a row before now. I mean it is only day 1 right now, so I feel pretty solid, I will have to evaluate and check back in with myself after day 5 of being person alone to see if this is something that will work.

It is just funny (odd) to think that I’m doing activities just for me in a place where I’m staying all alone. It is strange to me to think that I get to decide everything all by myself every step of the way.

I’m pretty sure I can do it, but in the end, the only person that I’m responsible to, that I could possibly disappoint, or that I can really make happy for the next two weeks, is me.

Hopefully I will not judge me too harshly.

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Just a Thought

War must always be done out of sight, or it shocks people and they stop immediately.
—Catherynne M. Valente/The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making

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those are blue


I’m starting to feel like I’m turning into a Vogon.
Not even a cool Vogon that writes poetry.
Nope, one of the boring Vogons that only knows the color of each of the forms.

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Just a Thought

However, one of the students who suffered eight months of insomnia wrote an opera shortly after being released from a sleep disorder clinic. Titled I Have Spent Eight Years Learning from the Lives of People Who Truly Broke Free from the Strictures of Higher Education and Actually Made Their Lives What They Wanted While I Have Failed to Follow Their Example, Will Continue to Fail, and Will Die Unmourned, Confused, and Fat, it was never performed.
—Patton Oswalt/Zombie Spaceship Wasteland

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county carnival

Him: I don’t get this song.

Me: He is singing about how sexy she is and how he loves licking and kissing her.

Him: Never say licking again. I get what it means mom, I just don’t get why it had to be a song and not just a bunch of things you whisper to someone at night in bed.

Me: Because women want to feel beautiful. Well everyone wants to feel sexy at least. So write it down and make money on a song.

Him: Even you? Even you want to feel beautiful?

Me: Even me. But I would not believe anyone that said my body is a wonderland. I would just laugh.

Him: Too sappy?

Me: Too unrealistic. My body is more like a country carnival than any kind of wonderland body.

Him: Carnival?

Me: Yeah my body seems like a great idea at night when you’re drunk, but you would never go near any of these rides in the cold light of dawn.

Him: Okay. Ew.

Me: Just saying.

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