Hello, Rabbit Hole

Digression is hardly new; sometimes it needs a shot of creativity

The theme of this post, as you may have guessed, is Being Easily Sidetracked, a concept familiar to anyone who, say, uses air to breathe.

When I freelanced full-time, it wasn’t too hard to concentrate; more like I needed to constantly look for work in addition to the projects I already had. So half my brain focused on the current WIP while the other half brainstormed how to market myself. Most writers hate the latter, but it’s become part of the job. Unless you’re raking in enough to hire someone to research for you, you’ll always feel slightly split down the middle.

Now I do a survival job and the words I write aren’t to feed my family. They’re more for personal satisfaction, and to hone my craft. Distractions remain; they’re just of a different flavor.

To wit: During the time I opened up the blank document to start this, I also looked at Netflix job opportunities (yes, I have a job; who isn’t always looking for a better one?), dug into a Google docs file where I keep a list of essay topics, went looking for a place to submit one of those potential essays, tried to ignore a Facebook notification and failed, and looked at Craigslist for new apartments.

I’m sure there were a couple more side trips in there as well, but I already look hopeless enough. Since my actual paid work for the day is over, I’m screwing around on my own time. Still.

[Takes break for roughly a week and re-opens draft.]

See? Even my own thoughts get me out of myself at times and I forget what I’m doing. Oh! The cats want dinner. BRB.

To be fair, it’s been a shit year. Family going through stuff. Friends going through stuff. The world going through some horrifying stuff. While I do my best to stay in a bubble I built around my workplace, there are days when the bubble gets leaky and the stuff crowds inside.

All the stuff, I suck it up like a sponge. If I’m lucky, the bubble breaks and I can breathe again, even though — annoyingly — my focus suffers as a consequence. Even worse is when the bubble stays intact and gets smothery, which means: stuff + not breathing + zero focus = nap is the only way to recover. (Okay, here’s a metaphor which has overstayed its welcome.)

During one such week, I posted the sweet picture below on Instagram and Twitter, hoping to cheer people up.

Since I’m not much of an influencer, the healing properties were negligible. It still made me smile a bit then, though, so giving it another go here. It’s a loose tea infuser that sat in my cupboard for years and it was time to test drive him. (I finally settled on “him” as a gender because, in looking at the box, it’s made by a company called “Fred,” so why not? Please don’t hate me for pigeonholing him because of his name. Be more upset the box says “NOT A TOY” when I clearly have no other use for it; its tea-making abilities are somewhat awful.)

In true rabbit hole fashion, the only reason I remembered Fred’s existence was because I went looking for something in my refrigerator (can’t even remember what it was) and was overcome by a plethora of expired food and condiments, which sent me on a purge of the entire kitchen.

Pictured: the end result. There are still other things to clean out, mostly a bunch of salsas and jams and whatnot, courtesy of well-meaning parents who bought stuff on vacation and decided we NEEDED DESPERATELY TO HAVE IT.

One of the most upsetting throw-outs? Three containers of almost-empty frosting. I don’t bake enough to use the first container on another baking project, and by the time I do another cake, the first container has gotten rock-hard and I need new frosting. And the cycle repeats.

You would think condiments would last a good, long time and most of them do. Which tells you how long it’s been since I cleaned out the fridge.

The point is: diversionary behavior isn’t always bad, right? It can serve a purpose! Once you free up your mind, magical things happen. For instance, my home is safe from poisonous foodstuffs, I found a new not-toy, and I’ve shared my shameful secret, one everyone on the planet can sympathize with. Maybe a support group would help: Rabbit Holers Anonymous. Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it.

P.S. During the few minutes I was uploading photos, Zelda the Cat — who has an MA in Diversionary Tactics — said she super needed for me to lean back in my chair so she could lie on me and purr her face off. If that doesn’t inspire some creative (or at least Zen) thought, I better start doubling up on those RH Anonymous meetings.