irrelevant (and sometimes questionable) ramblings

*Ed note: Kris’ mental health is currently in a distressing state. Read on with caution. You have been warned.

There is something seriously wrong with me. I just don’t know what it is. My motivation levels are at an all-time low, and I have zero desire to do ANYTHING.

Case in point: I have the house to myself, in fact, I’ve had the house to myself since 8am. It is now almost 11:30am. During that time I have done nothing but drink coffee and surf Facebook. (Well, okay, strictly speaking I threw a load of towels in the washing machine, but still.) All in my pyjamas.

I have work piling up. I have lines to memorize for an upcoming play. I have choreography and harmony parts to practice for an upcoming musical. Dishes are piled up in the kitchen. Every surface in this house is littered with CRAP. I can’t remember when I washed my floors last. I am overwhelmed with stuff, and it just seems to keep accumulating.

And yet, all I can do is look at it as I meander through the obstacle course that is my living room and kitchen. I look at the mess, and the words, “I just…can’t.” echo through my brain.

I would post photos, but all I can think is that the appropriate government agencies would be on my ass in a heartbeat if they saw them.

I had a break a little while back — a client postponed her project with me, and instead of booking someone else in that time slot, I thought I’d take advantage of the free time and do some things around the house. Well, I was successful for a couple of days. I gutted my side of the master bedroom, and I worked on my crafting room. I also put a dent into the chaos that is my rec room. My intentions were good, but life shit got in the way, and I spent too many of those days feeling upset and helpless and frustrated…and once again, frozen into inaction.

I am so stuck. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. I can’t move forward. I can’t accomplish anything. And if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up babbling in a corner somewhere, drooling all over myself.

I feel like every time I open up WordPress to write a blog post… my mind goes blank. I have no idea what to say that doesn’t sound self-pitying and whiny.

Life is testing me right now. I don’t know why, but it is. I suppose there’s some sort of lesson I’m supposed to learn. I wish there was a way to get an explicit sign of some sort. A big neon arrow that says, “Yup. This is it. This. Make *this* different in your life, and everything will get better.”

Nothing is that easy. If it was, everyone would do it, and the world would be a happy place, full of unicorns and rainbows.

Yeah. Something like that.

Was life once really that carefree? That easy? That untainted by fear and anger and illness and stress?

It doesn’t seem possible.

Maybe all those things were there after all, and it was just easier to ignore them; pretend the cries and howls were nothing more than the wind, the shrieks and barks nothing more than the branches knocking against the window.

I have no idea what to do with myself. I think I have forgotten how to create.

I measure myself by my failures, not by my successes.

I suppose it should be the other way around, wot?

There is too, too much anger happening in the world right now.

So much.

I am currently feeling very strongly about wanting to stop this damn planet and get the hell off of it. Social media is rife with all things BAD. And I just can’t deal at the moment.

You know, I can only wonder what would happen if, instead of spewing anger and hatred at every turn, those fearful, hateful individuals used that energy for good, peaceful things, instead. Wouldn’t the world be a wonderful place, if that were to happen?

I am torn between wanting to create, and wanting to just go curl up into a ball in my bed and hide under the blankets for the rest of, well, forever.

So bloody, freakin’ tired. God. Damn. It.

Despite rumours to the contrary.

Wow. Have I really not blogged since, like, September?

Man, I suck.

I have to admit, Gentle Readers, that ol’ Kris’ creative life has been frozen in a soul-sucking vortex that is not allowing for any new and wonderful words to flow from her fingertips.

Not only has my real life been ridiculously busy with work, there have been numerous health issues — of both the physical and mental — affecting clan Starr. To tell you the truth, folks, there are days when it’s all I can do to just hold on with my very fingertips.

It’s frustrating as fuck to see your offspring suffering and not be able to do a damn thing about it. I think I’ve cried more tears in the last few weeks than I have in the last few years put together.

So. I want to get back on that yarn-spinning bicycle, but pain, frustration, anger, and exhaustion hold me back. And, to put it coldly and bluntly, more royalty cheques would be awfully nice, too. But you don’t get paid if you don’t write anything. Damn that conundrum.

I sincerely and truly hope that one of these days I will have the energy and enthusiasm for putting something down on-screen. As hard and as stressful as writing can be, I miss the joy of creating, of telling tales, and playing God a little bit. I promise you I’ll get something out there sooner, rather than later.

Maybe simply for my own sanity’s sake.

Don’t let your brain take charge of you.

No, seriously. If your brain is anything like mine, it will have the tendency to obsess, dwell on, focus on, and fixate on the most ridiculous and unhelpful things *ever*, to the detriment of everything else important in life.

Obsessing will not keep your house clean.

Dwelling will not let you memorize your lines for your upcoming play.

Focusing will not let you enjoy times with your family that would otherwise be pleasant.

Fixating will not let you move ahead in life. How can you, when you’re stuck on a hamster wheel?

I fucking hate my brain sometimes. Maybe tomorrow I just need to shut off the Internet and force myself to do other things. Accompanied by loud music. And calorie-burning activities.

I hate it when you’re having a good day, and then you happen to drive by a place that is meaningful in some way, shape, or form, and your day is flipped, turned upside-down (thank you, Will Smith). It’s too much to say that the day is “ruined”, because it isn’t, but you are left with a flood of memories both beautiful and bittersweet, and melancholy thoughts that linger for many kilometers afterward…

So every year, Mr. Starr and I usually get to a couple of Blue Jays baseball games at the Rogers Center in Toronto. In fact, we were just at one game a few days ago. And I started thinking that I should get a Jays T-shirt to wear just to show my support. Yanno? I’m not really into baseball, but the Mister is, and I like seeing a couple of games because I enjoy the atmosphere and the crowd. Okay, I can’t lie — also the overpriced booze.

Anyway. I was thinking that I should get myself a T-shirt, but then I ran into the problem of not knowing whose name and number should be on the back of the shirt. I finally decided on a very simple criterion: I will figure out who the hottest, sexiest player is and wear his name and number on my bod. Heh. (Not shallow at all, right??)

I did some Googling of images last night, but I was having a hard time finding player profiles. I’d like to see a group picture of all the current team members, so I could pick from there, but I wasn’t having much luck. So I shall have to continue my search and see who I can come up with. We probably won’t get to another game this summer, so I have time.

The definition of summer fun:

Enjoying a delicious bowl of sweet, fresh cherries.

And then practicing tying the stems into knots with one’s tongue.

Heh.