The Literate Kitty

If there’s one thing I know a little something about, it’s finding myself.   Or—and this is definitely a more accurate way to put it—“being on an endless journey of continually trying to find myself”. No one goes through life unscathed. There are bumps in the road, myriad traumas (both major and minor), and O h, So. Much. baggage that each of us totes along, wherever we go.  But, how do we attack that journey… that is the question. From flat-out denying there even is any learning to be done [in other words, flying the bird at the idea of any and all navel-gazing], to moderate [and essentially solitary] forms of self-exploration—books, online seminars, etc., to time [and boatloads of $] spent on professional therapists, to [once again, time, and boatloads of $] spent on/in/with in-person retreats, courses, programs [and really, whatever else they elect to brand themselves as]… the options are seemingly endless.  Basically, though, it all boils down to something pretty basic: w

Where were you on the eve of the new millennium? Taking Prince’s words to heart, out partying like it was 1999 (for one final, crazy night)? Perched nervously in front of your computer, which was—if a host of doomsayers were actually onto something with their wild theories—about to trigger a meltdown of epic proportions, due to some numerical programming snafu that would kick in as the internal clock and calendar ticked over to 2000? Or, maybe you feared [hoped?] the biblical apocalypse was nigh, and you were doing… well, whatever one does to prepare for all of that? No matter where you were or what you were doing on Y2K, though, it was infinitely better than what happens in Alex Finlay’s chilling thriller The Night Shift , wherein that fateful night sees four teenage girls brutally attacked at the Blockbuster where they all work… three of whom are killed, and a fourth, injured. [See? Things could always be worse.] The police quickly come up with and subsequently arrest a suspec