The Contest is Ending and Kate Does Depression

Only 13 entries? That is pah-thet-ick. But quality not quantity counts.
HEY go on. You have til midnight to enter.

* * * *

The Thanksgiving crowd is gone. I got a long email--half apologetic, half amused--from my niece who'd brought along the PIL. Next time the niece visits, she's going to bring along a friend who's never petted a dog or a cat. Can you imagine?

I'm not so sure Sooz the 70 lbs neuroto-pup is a good place to start pet patting, but that's between the niece and her friend.

Our dishwasher is relieved that the extra people are gone. The kids are in mourning. I did love having extended family here. They're such good extended family, too. My siblings have done a wonderful job with their kids.

* * * *

I'm grey, grey, grey. Glomming onto anything that is hopeless or sad and being very November about life. I'd like to give a miss to being a depressive, thank you. I'll take a cheery attitude for ten, please, Alex.

I wish I could use all this brain chemistry gone south to concentrate on helping two friends, C and M.

1.Today C is going under the knife for breast cancer for the third time.

2. My pseudo-mother M's most important and helpful friend died on Thanksgiving. "I thought I'd be able to finish up my time without any more of these losses," she said. An interesting way to put it.

So maybe exuding useless sorrow can somehow draw off their pain? Huh. Then again, maybe not. Cards and flowers are probably a better bet for them. I'll put together a box of romance for C and send up a silent thanks for the glorious escape of books. I wish M would read some trash, but she's an intellectual full time and requires brains with her books, poor thing. She did read my first book but that's because I dedicated it to her.

I have to get my travel legs back so I can do something actually useful for her. Right now I'm trapped in my maze again.


Time to see if I can switch to Romance Writer Mode now that I've finished blogging. A run around the block with the dog. Another cup of good coffee. Reading some SBD entries.

Here's one thing I won't do: watch the video of our tax dollars at work again. Heck, I dreamed about this last night. Not sure why the video of a dog's demise had more of an impact on my subconscious than all the human suffering out there (I dreamed the video was showing in an ice cream parlor. Feel free to tell me what the heck that means). God knows I had to look at those human suffering videos too. That's the news link. The link to the actual video, in case you wish to be dragged into that particular mire, is here. I know the worst of human nature shows up in war but I have to hope it all turns out to be false or exaggerated. The dog one doesn't spell Michael right. That could be a sign of errrr ummm. A sign.

I'm off to don black.
YOU enter the damned contest.


  1. Ewwwwww.

    I couldn't even watch the whole video--just reading the opening was making me start to shiver. Got as far as one shot and had to stop.

    Not the sort of thing to be watching when you're down. And this stuff will invade your dreams if you're mourning someone. Be careful with yourself until you're feeling more spritely.

    I've battled chronic depression for years, and I'm really aware of beginning to slip off that edge. Writing is a good place to get yourself going. Pick a job and do it. Take a walk--exercise clears your head. Then pick another small job, do it and take a rest.

    Take good care of yourself.....

  2. Thanks Suisan! All good advice and thanks.

    This is old hat for me. I come by it honestly--good old genetics.

    Thank goodness it's not a permanent state. I understand (even if I can't emotionally feel the truth of this) that it's just pure dag-nasty chemicals at work--what an advantage that is over my ancestors, who probably thought the world really was a permanent Ingmar Bergman Movie. (Well, except Bergman hadn't been born yet. . . .)

    Most of all, I'm grateful that I've learned enough not to inflict the cloud onto my family or make any major decisions in this state.

    After two days of "flat stale unprofitable", I think I'm already functioning better.

  3. and this is a mourning time of year for me so it makes sense. But...why an ice cream store?

  4. Ehhhh, because, um, behind the sweetness that is the gathering of friends and family at the holidays lies the lurking horrors of stress, fear, and anxiety from being around the same people who know how to push your buttons because they installed them?

    Ehhhh, because, um, you're worried that if you feel happy during the holidays then you are in some way ignoring the real suffering that your friends and family are going through, so your subconscious put a warning video in your dream of happiness?

    Ehhh, because, um, it's your repressed sexual drive trying to claw its way to the surface past the sugar sweet facade you present to the public? (Paging Dr. Freud?)

    Ehhhh, because, um, your subconscious is just that screwy?

    How much time do you have? I can come up with a few dozen more.....


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

what I'm talking about above--the letter in RWR

My Writing Day with an Unproductive Brain