Have you ever noticed how uncertainty breeds pesky questions? The kind that buzz around your brain and keep you up at night?
Last year, while weighing big creative and professional pivots, the questions swarmed. I wrote about Introspective Uncertainty—the unease of not knowing, and the constant turning of a question to examine its many facets.
Feeling Introspective Uncertainty
There is a popular conversation icebreaker question that goes something like this:
But what comes after the acceptance of not knowing? Some questions kept coming back, and sometimes were so big and heavy they dragged me down to what I call the Pit Place. This place doesn’t feel good. I feel stuck here, in the dark.
So, I started thinking about world-building.
I’m a narrative thinker—I understand life through story. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good spreadsheet, and I’m the daughter of a Systems Analyst. But when I’m overwhelmed in the Pit Place, it’s not data I reach for—it’s story. In the oddball world of Headexplodie, building a creature to hold my questions made them feel less intimidating. It gave my uncertainty shape, silliness, and just enough magic to make it manageable. And somewhere in that darkness, a weird and helpful idea emerged:
🐸 THE QUESTION FROG 🪰
Questions are like annoying flies—buzzing, lingering, impossible to ignore. So I made a place to put them.
This frog I sculpted works kind of like a piggy bank. It’s hollow, with a slot for feeding it questions and a plug on the underside so I can retrieve them later. When a question starts buzzing in my brain, I write it on a piece of paper, fold it into an origami fly, and feed it to the Frog. 🪰
The Frog digests the question slowly, while I go live my life. Time does the work. Eventually, the Frog poops the question out—and when I unfold it, days, weeks, maybe months later, I’ll either have found the answer through the experience of time, or the question will have become fertilizer for a better one: more specific, more useful. By then, I’ll have learned more about myself or gathered more data from simply being alive.
It’s like a therapy toy or journal prompt generator.
A slow magic 8 ball.
An oracle in amphibian drag.
I put my first question inside the frog last Sunday. I’ll probably ask the frog to poop it out it at the end of summer and then I’ll write a response to that question in my journal.
I made this because, as much as I’m always seeking answers externally—asking consultants, friends, my therapist, my tarot cards, what should I do in this situation, give me an action plan!—ultimately, I know the only person who really knows best…is future me. So I’m trying to practice moving at the speed of trust—a concept I first heard from adrienne maree brown.
As I continue to build my self-trust, I’m learning that some questions just need time to digest. Question Frog makes that process feel funny and light instead of scary. Rather than stressing about not having answers right away, I can look forward to sitting with the questions, watching for quiet shifts—kind of like how I check in with my houseplants each morning to see if a new leaf has unfurled.
Introspective uncertainty helps me notice what really matters. And if I know what matters—what my values are—then I can trust that the answers will eventually surface, in their own time.
Speaking of slow things…
🎵 An Anti-War Playlist for You 🌱
One way I process emotions is through music and singing. Lately, I’ve been feeling a lot of anger and sadness at the state of the world—and especially at the current U.S. administration.
At the No Kings protest recently, my friend and I noticed how some of the signs looked like they’d been dug out of the closet from 8 years ago and reused as is or with slight adjustments (“Hands Off My Uterus Alex Padilla!”)
I’m grateful for protest art, even if it sucks that it’s still so relevant. I may not have understood the sentiment of Black Sabbath’s War Pigs as a teenager, but now, screaming “On their knees the War Pigs crawliiiiing, begging mercies for their sins…ooOoooH LORD YEAH!” feels really cathartic.
Anyway, to express my anger creatively, I made a playlist.
It begins with rage, grief, and resistance—and ends with songs that lean toward hope. I’ve been getting more and more into the solar punk/hope punk genre of fiction, and the latter half of the playlist are songs that remind me of collective action, kinship, and hope in the midst of dark times.
It's called LET IT ROT - since I've been thinking about systems that we need to let die so better ideas can take root. Let it RIOT, let it ROT, let it ROOT. So here are some songs of protest and possibility for you:
🎧 Let it ROT 🌱 - an Anti War playlist on Spotify or Apple Music
📣 Hypewoman Time 🙌
One of my favorite improv games is called "hypeman" because I LOOOOVE hyping other people and cheering them on. So this is the section of my newsletter where I share some things I'm excited about and make me happy:
📺 What is Solarpunk? (2025 Edition) by Extra Andrewism: I’m so over grim dystopian sci-fi (👀 looking at you, Last of Us Season 2!). Lately, I’ve been craving stories that offer hope and community. I first learned about solarpunk from Andrewism’s YouTube channel, and this 4½-minute video is a great intro to the genre and movement.
📖 Dancing with Systems by Donella Meadows: I initially signed up for a Summer Seminar on Systems Thinking because I thought it would help me learn how to predict and control my future…oh how I was instantly humbled when reading this essay from Donella Meadows, one of the most influential environmental thinkers of the 20th century. I quickly learned that systems are inherently unpredictable and can’t be controlled! However, you can dance with them…and I do like dancing :).
🎶 Bobby McFerrin & MOTION: Circlesongs at Freight & Salvage: dancing, singing, circling, improv, tears of joy, transcendence- words cannot describe the experience I’ve had this week seeing and hearing Bobby McFerrin and Motion live…the best I can do is say it was a spiritual experience, like how they say people cry when sitting in front of a Rothko painting. On the walk back to the parking lot, a lady next to me said,d “I’ve seen Bobby McFerrin, I can die now!” And I get it - what this man and his bandmates can do with their voices is otherworldly. If you ever get a chance to see him live - DO IT, your soul will thank you.
That’s all for now, until next time!
🐸,
Annie
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So good. Always here for a playlist too!