The Devil in the Detail

I have punished myself for over 20 years...how and why you ask?

Well, the how is simple. I keep my house in an ungodly state of ....disarray? mess? chaos? shittiness?  which keeps me not only mentally unable to do the things I REALLY want to do, but physically keeps me from doing them, too.

Why?

Good fucking question, y'all.

I had this table nearly cleared off...and it is again, and in my defense, I was shifting things around trying to clear the BIGGER mess on my cutting table. *sighs* But this photo captures my world, my mind, the clutter that has become my life. I am not truly a horder...really... No...really! lol   But...I am a clutterbug. I can use all kinds of excuses, my ADHD, depression (erm...we know the clutter actually contributes to the depression, kind of a catch 22 sort of....fing...), because I work and have no patience/energy to deal with it when I get home...or maybe I'm just lazy...

But the root of it is my child mind doesn't think I'm worthy...yeah, it's the ol' lack of self worth rearing its ugly, pathetic, moronic head again.  I wish to kill it...yes...kill it.

I actually have cleared about 18" off the cutting table...woot.  Back for more...

New Adventure

This is the exploration of Gecko Hall (so named because of all the geckos around our house --and in it from time to time).

I'm hoping by putting this up here that I will be inclined to not only post about the progress I make (if any), but actually MAKE progress.

I apologise for the out-of-focus video. This camera is really old and I think it's about to get donated, maybe. I'd do better taking vids on either my Nikon or iPhone.

So without further ado...

Link to the video if this one won't play.

I cracked myself up watching the part about turning the light on in the studio...  what can I say? I'm easily amused.

xxn

http://www.unfuckyourhabitat.com/

www.flylady.net

While my obsession gently weeps...

Obsessions*, I believe, stem from some deep, dark place of need: failures, desires, dissatisfactions, or possibly just from pure boredom. I won't go into my latest one, but suffice to say it stems from a physical ache I get in my chest when I think about not having pursued my intended career in film.

I know life is full of woulda-shoulda-couldas, and we should, in the inimitable words of Jim Wright, just "suck it up buttercup" and move on. I also fully realize that some of the good things in my life, like my precious son, would never have happened if I'd done what I was supposed to have done.

Why didn't I? Hmm, well, like so many other things, deep-seated fear of failure is strong with this one. I did actually have some valid reasons, though. My daughter was still in high school and I wasn't about to yank her roots up and go off into uncertainty (even more uncertainty than moving across country to go to UT in the first place). I got moved around so much as a kid (17 places in 17 years..yow) that I had vowed to never do that to her. I had no real set of skills other than my wits and really 30 years ago, UT's RTF department really just prepared you to be a production assistant, albeit a highly educated one.

1985-almost done with film school

For years I shoved it all in the back of the closet and didn't think about it. Myriad films have been made since then, even just counting well-known US/Brit flicks; I'd get a bit of "wow" that would have been fun to work on and I'd get a bit nostalgic, or whatever you'd call it when you really wish you'd spent your life doing something other than what you are/did. But in the wake of the three Hobbit movies I've been watching a lot of the production vlogs and perhaps I shouldn't torture myself like that, but at the same time they're fascinating as all hell to my movie-making-inclined mind. They painfully remind me of what I really wanted want to be doing, instead of being a university paper schlepper for the past 23 years. This was only supposed to be a job, someplace to be until I found something else. But lazy-ass me, I never looked. So in the end it's only my laziness and complacency to blame.

If, in some alternate version of this universe, someone were to offer me a position (costume-room sweeper? tea-making-assistant?) on a production, I'd snap it up so fast the door would come off its hinges. The caveat is I'd have to be able to take my cat with me. Other than that *POOF* I'd be outta here.  Realistic me knows nothing like that would ever happen. Fantasy me indulges.

*One only has to look at my Pinterest lately to figure out fairly quickly what that obsession is.

On again, off again..

I was doing quite well last week, with the blogging. And then it all went pear-shaped, as they say.

I did actually make some progress with "things" over the weekend, but you know...two steps forward, 19 back...and here I am again. Still with mounds of clean clothes to be folded and put away; I'd done all the dishes and spiffed up the counters, and there it is all to do again. Damned dishes...what is it with having to be washed every day?  I mean, really?  And then I tried to do myself in this morning.

I go now?

This cat, Valentino, who is very prone to urinary issues, has decided that even the soft wheat cat litter is not to his liking, so he's been peeing on the garage floor next to the box, instead of in the box. *headdesk*  So, this morning, he'd done it again, so I grabbed what I thought was the hydrogen-peroxide kitty destinkum gallon jug. The stuff foamed up like it was supposed to and it usually has an odor, so I wasn't too horribly concerned over the odd smell and the burning, tingling eye-thing.

Do you know what the major ingredient in urine is?  That's right, Baby Bop, it's ammonia!

Do you know what was in the white gallon jug?  That's RIGHT, chlorine bleach!

Now...who knows what happens when you mix chlorine and ammonia?

Are we going to read the label first from now on?  You betcha, Red Rider!