Feels

I am sorry, I owe you guys a real post.  I’ve been kinda down lately (well, ‘kinda’ is relative, i suppose) and with that comes all the usual guilt.  “Everybody’s got their own shit, Kate; stop burdening others with your crap.  You don’t even have a reason to be depressed.  Nothing that has happened to you is as bad as what’s happened to somebody else, so quit whining.”  You know, the usual vicious downcycle.  Fed into by the fact that a couple people I know In real life have asked me not to write about it, actually.  They like my style, but not my actual content. 

And while I admit I haven’t been wandering much lately, originally I started this with the surefire knowledge that the only one I could actually count on to read this was me.  And I want to write about what i want to write about.  I want to write about robots and WOW and random things like that, but I also want to put some thoughts into words and start coming to terms with Who I Am and Why I am Here.

So, with that in mind, I’m staging a hostile takeover of my own blog.   I am going to write, and sometimes it’ll be weird and disjointed like the other day.  Sometimes, it’s going to be about depression.  Spoiler warning: I’ve had to deal with depression most of my life, so it’s going to be a pretty big part of this blog.  If you don’t want to read about it, I totally understand.  Come back when I write about robots. 

With that in mind, I want to tell you a story.  It is not about robots.  It is from my childhood.

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Stuck.

I wanted to do the ABC award as a series of rhyming couplets, similar to a children’s book poem, but i am stuck on some of the letters.  So i am letting it sit a bit longer.  Apologies for that.  

I haven’t really been able to write much lately, though i have had some ideas.  I spent my weekend working on the crochet blanket instead of writing, and watching Warehouse 13, or as i call it, “The Adventures Of Frowny Face Girl and Kinda Dumb Nice Guy.”

Admittedly, she has Reasons to be frowning all the time.  It’s just hella noticeable. 

Why can’t I write the post inside my head?

Edit:  I woke up at two am and found this on my phone’s wordpress app, after about four separate dreams where i was trying to catch up on the Zero to Hero Challenge:

There is a wall between my inner self and you.  It is very irregular,mirror-smooth seeming from one direction, jagged sharp peaks up close.  Thick as a blanket, safe as a cocoon.  You may never even notice it: part of the wall’s glamour is to hide itself with itself, to cover up weaknesses by revealing them.  I “wear my heart on my sleeve” so that you don’t look past it.

It is this wall that gets between me and the words i seek.

Sometimes the wall is just cold medicine, though, and i need to lie down before this post gets any weirder.  Perhaps tomorrow the world will make enough sense to write about.

I hate being sick, but sometimes it leads to half-remembered insights.

A day late for Day three, hopefully not a dollar short.

Day three, the challenge continues,
By Kate Mileur

Inspiration self-imposed
Zero to hero once again:
“What did you intend to write
when Blogging you began?
show us now your first idea
even if it’s lame;
you must have cared enough
to claim a web domain.”

Hoping not to disappoint,
searching topics to anoint,
thoughts kinetic self-disjoint,
I know not what I mean.

Why did I start this blog, you ask?
and ask again, another task
how many times I must repeat:

I do not know? maybe to meet
new people, know I’m not alone?
my life paints me the villain known
only to myself it seems.
And so I bring you bits of dreams
and paint a picture of my mind
hoping to find myself in kind.

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