Lucca is a little bit jealous of my loom.
I can’t even start to explain why I love weaving so much without first explaining, as best I can, what it feels like to have an ADD brain. While I think I would still love weaving even if I didn’t have attention deficit disorder, its therapeutic and meditative qualities have been a life changer.
I don’t really know what other people’s brains are like, but mine has about 7-10 actual trains of thought going through it at once, and those trains of thought are speed bumping over other smaller thought distractions which appear and then vanish just as quickly as they arrive. Of those 7-10 actual thought strands, only a few of them are actually clear and followable; it’s like my brain is thinking about more than I could possibly keep up with, so the goal is to try really, really hard to focus on just one or two of those things running through my brain, letting the others reduce to a murmur in the background. The popcorn thoughts appear out of nowhere and can throw me off — “MY IM IS GOING OFF,” “OOH CUTE SHOES,” “SQUIRREL!” — and suddenly I’m like, “Ack, what was I thinking about? The layout of my new apartment and where to put all of my furniture? No, no, no, wrong one, Amelia, don’t follow that train of thought now, that’s for later. You were thinking about how to write this essay about your ADD — oh Christ another blinking IM, better click it!” Keep reading »
If you and your significant other finally decided to take that giant leap of financial and emotional faith and move in together, know that this is a decision that should not be taken lightly. Before you eagerly sign the dotted line on your lease, take a look at some things you should sit down and discuss BEFORE you find yourself arguing over who should be taking out the trash or paying the electric bill. Keep reading »
Yesterday, at the farmer’s market, I encountered a man starring at me all googly-eyed and weird, who then sidled up next to me and said, all breathily, “Excuse me, what’s your name?” My instinct was to say “My name is Fuck Off And Die You Fucking Prick,” but I was so caught off-guard by a guy looking at me all googly-eyed and weird and asking me for my name in a breathy voice when I didn’t know him at the god damned farmer’s market that I just stammered, “Uh, Rebecca?”
“Rebecca,” he said breathily, again, his eyes boring into mine. “Nice to meet you.” I walked off and he sort of half-whispered, “Have a nice day.”
Why did that guy need my name? Keep reading »
Everybody needs a little KFC, am I right? A lovesick 26-year-old woman sought comfort in fried food at KFC after breaking up with her boyfriend (we’ve all been there, girl!). The next step of the grieving process usually involves ice cream, sad movies, and sometimes a bottle or two of wine, but Tan Shen, from China’s southwest Sichuan Province, couldn’t seem to pry herself away from the fast-food joint when the time came to call it a night. Read more on Tres Sugar…