2019: The Year of Living Messy

If you're one of the...one persons who read this blog, you know that I have a problem with messy pages. A side effect of my perfectionism is that I tend to live by extremes. The moment I make a mistake when I handwrite, I want to tear out the page and start over. Messy pages make me neurotic. I’m forever throwing them away and this leaves me stuck in a cycle of perfection and destruction, without ever creating anything of value.

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So Close to Home

My grandma was a hoarder. She filled every corner of our tiny cottage with dusty yard sale finds, stained stuffed animals, mothball-scented clothing, and an endless sea of tchotchkes. It was musty and cramped and dark. Lots of bugs. Every window had blankets stapled over them, so no one could see inside. There was no room to breathe.

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