Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Suffering from PCS


Currently listening to Spotify.  Playing Norah Jones' Come Away With Me.

For those of you who aren't aware of this terrible sickness, PCS stands for Perfect Confluence of Suckage.  The original post with definition can be found on the amazingly talented J.B. Lynn's blog.

She first introduced me to the signs and symptoms of PCS, and I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't something everyone faces at some point or another.

Today is my day.  One of those days where you trip, catch yourself, fall anyway, get up bruised only to trip and fall again.  But all of the falling is emotional and metaphorical - luckily I have yet to actually trip and fall today.

The thing about PCS is it's the enemy trying to get you down.  It tries to wheedle into your brain and tell you how awful and incapable you are.  It uses your friends, family, coworkers, and even random strangers to make you feel like you don't count, that your passion is irrelevant, and that you aren't good at what you  do.

But just like J.B., I intend to defeat PCS (twitter hashtag #downwithPCS).

When you're feeling low, beaten, under appreciated  and even unworthy, you have to remember these things aren't true.  You aren't that person.  You have value no matter WHAT a close friend said to make you feel like you were next to nothing.

Hopefully, that friend didn't mean it how it sounded - and even if he did, he probably didn't realize how it would affect you.  You can't beat PCS by waiting for that friend to apologize...



You have to beat PCS by remembering that bad days happen.  Sometimes life sucks.  Buck up and move on!
The enemy can't take you down if you're picking yourself up by your boot straps and taking PCS head on.

Some laugh in the face of danger, but maybe on a day when you're suffering, it's best to laugh in the face of this sickness.  You are stronger than the Perfect Confluence of Suckage.  You are stronger than the negative comments that may or may not be sincere.

And when you are having trouble picking yourself up, call the friend or family member who will understand and help you stand.  You don't have to do everything alone.  I have a group of writer friends who remind me that I am a writer and I do serve a purpose, even if most of my non-writer friends don't care to acknowledge how passionate I am about it.

So put on your armor and face the days filled with PCS.  Mine is over...and it truly was suckage (this genius got herself disqualified from a contest for not paying close enough attention)...but tomorrow is a new day, and it WILL be better.

It can only go up from here.  There's always hope.

Join us.  Write your story.  Down with PCS!

If you're curious, you can find me on twitter @KelseyRaeK.  Let me know if you've been here.  Just tweet me and hashtag #downwithPCS.


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Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Glitter Globe Guest Blog

Today it is my pleasure to have the amazing-insane-awesome-wonderful-bluemonkeymother Stephanie  Pazicni Karfelt guest blogging in the Asylum.

Stephanie is an amazing story teller, and some of her best are from her every day life.  Please enjoy her hilarity (especially when it comes to Juan) and maybe pop on over to take a gander at her blog at the Glitter Globe.  She gives away candy filled slinky dogs.  Everybody likes her.



The first time Juan asked me out he stood me up. He was immediately written off. The Glitter Globe offered no second chances for this type of violation. So later that night when he knocked on the door, I took a moment to prepare myself mentally for the scathing reception he was about to receive. Opening the door, there he stood in the porch light covered in blood, his hand in a cast of some sort and his arm in a sling. Cheater. I totally caved. Completely fell for his excuse. You know, the old “My car caught on fire in an under-ground garage. I thought the gas tank was going to explode and it was parked next to dozens of other cars. I tried to pull the fire alarm, but that thing you break the glass with was missing. I had to use my hand. By the time the fire department came, my car was completely engulfed in flames – the tires even melted. I would have called you then, except they took me to the hospital. I had to have surgery on my right hand, and the left was burned so I couldn’t use the phone even afterwards. Can I borrow your car?” Yeah, I know. I was so na├»ve. But, hey, the next time was a pity date!


Juan enjoyed hiking and wanted to take me. He asked if I liked nature. I absolutely love flowers, and that’s part of nature, right? And I’d hiked around a castle in a nearby park at least twice! We had so much in common! “Sure,” I said, “I’m very outdoorsy.”

In order to reach the bottom of the mountain, we had to cross a railroad trestle. Halfway over I was told to hurry, just in case a train came.

Then we had to crawl over the face of a little cliff under a bit of a waterfall. It totally wrecked my hair.

After that it got hard, climbing up a mountain. Grabbing onto a skinny sapling to haul myself upward, it came out of the ground and I slid downhill a ways. Lost a shoe too, well, it fell off when that happened. Then I lost it throwing it at my date. It started to rain then, and despite the exertion from the climb, it was cold. We took refuge beneath an overhang in the rock. I scooted deeper inside the nook to avoid the blowing rain, but was told not to, due to the rattlesnakes that tended to inhabit that spot. This was so our last date. At that very moment my BFF was enjoying Mackinac Island – or someplace equally as civilized that involved fudge – with her boyfriend. I thought about that a lot as I climbed.

We crested the top of the mountain, me flat on my stomach, scrabbling over the ledge. It occurred to me at that point that we had to now get down. I’d almost decided to push my date off the mountain, to test that exit strategy, when I heard rustling in the bushes. It was getting dark at this point, but I could see men hiding there. They were dressed in military fatigues. Juan nodded sagely. “That’s just the National Guard. They practice up here on weekends.” Dang. Witnesses.

The National Guard hadn’t climbed up the way we had. They took the road. Yep. There was a road, and I started marching down it, arms crossed, in that cold silence that most men of dating age are quite familiar with. A truck pulled up alongside us within minutes, offering a ride back to town. There was heat in it. I huddled over that heater and Juan said, “Have you ever been skiing?” Skiing? I hadn’t, but I’d seen people do it in movies. “Because I was wondering if you’d like to go skiing with me sometime? This winter?” He smiled his terrific smile. “Sure, I’ll go skiing with you,” I promised. I had always wanted to try skiing. People were always smiling when they did it in the movies. I wondered if ski lodges had fudge. Pictures of roaring fires, ski lifts and fun filled my head. How hard could it be?

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My Biography & Picture












Stephanie Pazicni Karfelt loves laughter, writing Urban Fantasy, being a wife and mother, and dabbling in the high-tech industry for story-fodder.  Find her humorous take on writing at:  www.TheGlitterGlobe.com.
Speaking of The Glitter Globe, I’m having an Epic Slinky Dog giveaway.  Just follow my blog and be sure to leave a comment for your chance to win.  They make awesome pets.