2025
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Me at three years in my red jacket
By the looks of the trees, I think the photograph is in the spring. I remember that yard better than any place I've ever lived except for when I was a stay-at-home mom.
This month I've been thinking along the path of what I want these weeks to be for me. Holiday decorations are minimal. I donated all but one two foot fake tree. Being creative and being outdoors are on my jingle bells' agenda.
A few weeks ago, I began writing about how I feel about being creative, writing in particular. To my surprise, having to put those thoughts into words has been a good learning experience. I've never been keen on writing about graphic violence or sex. A character can be dead without describing how. A person can be a murdered without going into the details of why.
All of that brain activity brings me to my desk. It needs to be clear of stuff. I know where I am comfortable painting. I haven't chosen a writing nest. Sofa, recliner, dining table or desk are the spots where I land to write. This week I will set up a place to write. Where did I chose? The sofa, in a corner surrounded with pillows including one to put my clipboard writing surface. I'll still use my desk, but not for long hours of writing.
December is a month this year that will be not only productive, but it will also be happy by baking cookies in small batches. I will post the recipes as I go along.
Meanwhile, my easel awaits.
How is your December shaping up?
There is no enigmatic smile on our faces or in our hearts.
How we carry our condition along through the year may be similar to some but not to others.
Based on my life's journey with depression, all I write about here is based on that first-hand experience.
Everyone, I believe, goes through stages as they age and participate in different events, birth, jobs, adventures, moving education and such. Our personalities develop and sometimes, there are hiccups in that process.
Depression, for me, is what causes my being me hiccups. At present, the type of depression episode I've been coping with for over a year is not the same as in the past. I think of it as a depression meh episode.
I used to notice symptoms and deal with them as they arise. This time, while able to laugh, enjoy, have clarity, most of what I felt connected to has disconnected. It is there. I know about it. I remember it. It is all a pile of meh to me now. Weird.
The most significant part of my meh episode is that there is no constant wallowing in sadness, melancholy, dreads or paranoia.
At this stage, I feel, reading about depression that others experience is a good idea because it might help me understand better what is going on. Maybe being at the end stage of my life is impacting me stronger than I anticipated. I have been clearing out stuff lately. That release of the past might have freed up space in my mind to explore this part of my life journey.
Do you have books on depression to recommend?
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Looking Up |
Clearing out folders, changing passwords, and sorting photos was a monthly event for me that took hours, sometimes days. Files and photos, I feel, no longer require monthly sorting. Maintaining good password health, however, is always a priority.
In the early days of Ebay when, I believe, a lot of people were getting online, a unique password for each website one registered with was popular with some people. (Moi) A one password for all probably isn't a good security system. Writing down passwords in a tabbed address book is an easy way to keep track of that important information.
Some tips I use for passwords:
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November |
The recent weather in New England has been unseasonably warm. Sitting outdoors has been glorious. Nature knows in America there is a high amount of stress over the presidential election today. I feel that Nature is being kind to us.
Meanwhile, no matter who wins, I will be taking a blog break
Enjoy November!
There are days when what we want is not far away, but waiting for it to become closer feels like a million hours will pass until it arrives.
America is, I believe, in real trouble. In the morning hours of 11 September 2001, the very real threat we were at war permeated everything. I heard jets in the sky with an urgency that I had not felt before. I wasn't scared or angry. I was too busy praying.
Immediately, I wanted to hear from our leaders. I wanted to hear from the powers that be. Leadership was my focus.
America's leadership, I feel, is seriously in jeopardy of being overtaken by a person that is proven to be clearly untrustworthy.
The reasoning for supporting the felon, that I've heard, is that they do not like the man, but they like his policies.
I say, then support the office of the President of the United States no matter who wins.
Please, Support the next President of the United States.
Americans need to unite, not fight each other.
Being raised by a generation with gloomy grim Victorian vibes, it is no wonder to me that I like ghost stories. In addition to that, my father liked to scare us kids with his true accounts of the paranormal world. In high school I became interested in Edgar Allen Poe. I also read HP Lovecraft and other ghost stories.
Alas, Goth isn't a style I followed. The Bohemian morphing into Hippiedom is where my youth melded into tender adulthood. When life became too real, I moved into the mystery genre where I remain.
In writing, I can only get so far with a horror narrative before I feel scared that it could happen in real life. (More about that another time.) Then one day on the way home from my father's, on a rainy, cold and dark night, I had a not normal experience.
There wasn't a blur, a quick noise or something in the corner of my eye. The sound was clearly the result of something intelligent moving objects in the stuff I was taking home. I actually stopped, parked and got out of my vehicle, after going through the toll booth, to let it escape, run away. Nothing ran, flew, jumped or slithered away. If it had, then there was enough open space for it to be seen.
Feeling the interior is free (enough) of whatever it was, I continued driving into the night north through New Hampshire and Vermont. And so did it.
At home, I can still see myself standing in front of my vehicle deciding to wait until the morning to bring things indoors in the daylight.