Halloween 2011

I live in a small town that is about half an hour away from a small city. Okay, it's half an hour if traffic is good. Otherwise, it's closer to 45 minutes. Today though, I think it was only the 30 minutes.  I think this because today was a great day.

This weekend, my roommate's glasses broke so this morning we trekked to the city to get them repaired. We ate our favorite cheaptastic burgers on the way up there and they were cooked quite well. Once in town, we managed to get in and out of the mall three times without any major hell.  The repair job on the glasses took less than an hour and cost nothing. Awesome.

We got mall Chinese food and came home with no car trouble.  After catching up on some missed TV shows, we ate our mall food and some cookies. I busied myself with cute pictures of people's Halloween costumes and played Glitch.  Later that night, I even attended a Glitch Halloween party.  And . . . it was a lot of fun.  There were drugs!

The best part is that we managed to find Alice and get her indoors before the trickortreaters started roaming the streets.  Alice has a lot of issues, chief among them that she doesn't look like most cats.  We couldn't risk people hurting her.

I talked to my dad and my uncle today.  Both conversations went well, which was nice. My roommate and I laughed about stuff all day and were deeply clever.

Over all, while it wasn't a conventional Halloween, it was a very enjoyable one.  It was one on my terms and with my little quirks filtered in. I loved it.

Hope your holiday went well.

Goodbye, Favorite Month.

October is ending and I'm not that happy about it. October is always kind of my safety net month. It's no longer hot, but it isn't freezing. It's festive, but not in a way that requires me to spend a lot of time with people. It's dark and mysterious, without being so close to the start of the new year that I have to start thinking about how Hellish Summer will eventually return.

I always bask during October. I always breath a little easier. I can slide through the month with no emotional pressures. Oh, but look! I still spent half of it depressed or otherwise emotionally freaked out!

Still, for my money, it's the best month of the year.

Now it's soon to be over and the pressures begin again. Thanksgiving and then Christmas, then the hell of Winter followed by the jacked up storm season people call Spring.  Then Summer. Ugghh.

Dammit, I miss October already.

The Value of that Critical Bitch

I think anytime anyone is creating a plot for anything, they need at least two kind of practical and slightly belligerent people around them.  I don't mean the kind of people who would keep them from creating at all. That would be useless.  I mean the kind of people who can help them see the plotholes they're creating for themselves.

The writers of the show Secret Circle really needed this.  The show is about a town full of witch families.   It's an interesting basic concept, but it creates a lot of practical issues along the way.

For instance, they have introduced witch hunters as villains.  Witch hunters are a kind of obvious antagonist and could have been handled well. Except, they're not being handled well. Not at all.  This is where the practical and belligerent friend (called PBF from now on) really could have come in handy.

Creator: I think I'm going to give our little teenaged witches some new problems.
PBF: Why? Having trouble finding your way out of the quagmire you've already created?
Creator:  . . . anyway, Nick's older brother is going to come onto the show to replace Nick. He's with the witch hunter group.
PBF: But . . . won't Nickbrother be a witch too?
Creator: Yes, but he wants Teh Revengence on the town for killing his parents.
PBF: But . . . won't he realize the witch hunters will just use him to do this and then kill him too?
Creator: Well, doesn't that make him seem desperate and tragic?
PBF: No, it makes him fundamentally stupid. Fundamentally stupid people don't make for good antagonists.
Creator:  . . . yeah, anyway, so he and his witch hunter group will be staying in town.
PBF: Wait . . . WHAT? How the fuck can they do that?
Creator: Stay in town? You know, kind of in an abandon building or something.
PBF: Are witch hunters like a new phenom?
Creator: Well, of course not. They've been around at least since the Middle Ages.
PBF: So . . . you're telling me that a TOWN FULL OF WITCHES who know that witch hunters exist having warded and hexed this town six ways to Sunday to keep the witch hunters out?
Creator: They gave up their magic after The Accident . . .
PBF: Wards should have been in place no matter what. Either to alarm or to destroy the hunters.  It would be suicide not to have wards.  They would never give those up.
Creator: Also, there are some witch hunters who are living in the town. They're old families, like the witch families.
PBF: Wait, wait, wait. What? A family of witch hunters lives in the town with the witches?
Creator: Yes . . .
PBF: And they never noticed this? All of these witches never once questioned the family who don't come to the weekly broom dance and frown every time someone cackles?
Creator: Maybe I should rethink this whole thing . . .

You see? See? It would serve the show so well to have someone who does this!  It would cut out the stupid and trim the insanity!  It would stomp away the What-the-Fuck!

Unfortunately, the show doesn't have that.  And it will suffer in its bad writing and craptastic plottage.

However, if you are a writer or plan to be one, perhaps you can take this advice to heart!  Find some PBF to come in and listen to what you're working on. Let them rip it to pieces and question you on every little detail. You will be so annoyed and pissed off!

And in the end, your work will be better for it.

The Tribe has Spoken . . . And It looks like Jesus Did Too?

I probably watch an unhealthy amount of reality tv. I've mentioned this before and added that I do so because it becomes fodder for my thoughts and philosophies. I could probably write a million posts about it and eventually will.  Tonight though, I wanted to address something that happens on reality shows (and sports games and other competitive things) that really gets on my last nerve.

One of the reality show stereotypes is the Christian No One Likes. Now, many Christians will believe this person isn't liked because they are a Christian. They fall into this self-induced, self-congratulatory martyrdom that "people dislike me because I make them uncomfortable because I follow JEEEEEEEEEEEEZUS and that's the truth and the Devil makes them angry about it."  Actually, no. The reason no one likes the Christian No One Likes is because this person is an asshole.

There are many traits that usually make these people assholes.

• Constant talk about how much better they are than everyone else because Jesus even though they play just as dirty and evil as everyone else.
•  Judgmental comments and actions towards others they view as "the bad people" even though they do the same things.
• Overly dramatic displays of zealotry just for the sake of getting camera time.
• Speeches about how they are more deserving than others becauseJesus.
• A kind of fake and insincere questioning of their own motivations and evil deeds towards winning, but no actual moment where they stop in these behaviors.

However, there is one thing that these people do that gets on my nerves more than anything else. They will pray that they win the competitions over the other team.  Yes, that's right.

They pray for Jesus to take sides on a reality show.

Of course, they always make a show of it being Jesus's choice. "Lord, if it's your will, please let us beat the snot out of the Blue Team."  You know, that kind of thing. Total lip service.  There is a huge amount of arrogance in this. For one thing, they're assuming that Jesus watches Survivor or whatever enough to know what is going on.

The worst part though, is that they're praying, they are actually praying that Jesus takes sides.  So . . . just because this person is praying that they win the Hit the Rat with a Stick competition, they should get to win it over the woman on the other side who needs the money to help pay for her daughter's heart surgery or something?  If their side wins, should the other side take it as a sign that Jesus doesn't love them?

It's all so disgusting.

Now, do I have a problem with people praying on reality shows? No, of course not. I think there are very appropriate things people could pray about.

• You can pray for things that affect you as a person, but don't go against others.  For instance, you could pray that you have patience with your team. You could pray that you don't get discouraged. You could pray that you don't get injured.
• You can pray for the welfare of everyone involved.  Pray that everyone stays healthy and hydrated. Pray that people stay in good spirits. Pray that no one drowns or starves to death.
• You can pray about all the stuff you usually pray about, unless it involves stuff like God killing your enemies and stuff. I seem to recall there are verses against that.

The thing is, when you go on a reality show and open the door to the fact that you've been cast as The Christian, keep in mind that if you are playing the God card on the game, you need to represent what you're talking about.  Truly study what the Bible says about how you should behave when speaking as someone who is a follower of Christ. Talk to people you hold are representatives of how followers of the faith should conduct themselves.

However, don't be surprised if a lot of people advice you to not, as a Christian, go on a reality show or other such competitions. Jesus said he would provide for you. I don't think he meant he would be doing so after you made six people cry on Top Model.

But if you insist, remember that others will be watching you.  Always keep in mind that you may end up being what people see in their heads when they hear the word "Christian." How will that play out? Are you going to be remembered as someone who was kind and loving, helpful and peaceful?

Or will you be one of the many Christians No One Likes? Someone who spends their whole season on the show braying about how pious they are, all the while condemning others and asking God to dash their hopes and dreams.  Do you want to be someone people enjoy watching or do you want to be the person that people mute when they start talking, all the while wishing "that asshole would just get voted off?"

Crow Woes

After the speed of the first three books, I'm kind of shocked at how bogged down I am in book four of GRRM's A Song of Ice and Fire series.  This is certainly shocking considering how much I loved A Storm of Swords (which truthfully should have been called A Mayhem of Marriages). 

I'm serious about that too. The book had four weddings, two of which ended in the assassination of a king, all of which were arranged and disturbing, two off stage marriages (one for love, one for political gain), one kind of technical common law marriage. Hmm, possibly two on that count. Maybe three. It's hard to tell with wildlings.   Beyond that, we had one very strange but deeply compelling love story.

Anyway, now I'm stuck in a book that has Brawn Hilda tromping around through the countryside being clueless and awkward and the Wicked Queen trying to get someone to eat on her apples.  Brienne and Cerise are so on my nerves.  Neither should have been a POV character.  Some people just shouldn't be.

But it's not just the ladies who are suffering from POVisms in this book. There is Mr. Samwell Tarly. "I'm scared of water. I'm scare of travel. I'm seasick. I'm scared of Gilly. I love Gilly. I'm scared of tears. I'm scared of my father. I'm hungry. I'm sick. I'm puking."

Grrrrr!

At least Arya, Sansa, and Jaime are interesting, though woefully not in the book often enough. I have to admit I'm enjoying the Ironborn part. I'm a little bit meh about Dorne. As much as I loved the Red Viper, the Dorne plot is just kind of annoying me.

Anyway, so yeah, a whole post about book complaining.

The Bad: A Next Day Consideration

Sometimes when you have mental issues, it's difficult to see progress. This is especially true when you're in the middle of an episode. Last night, as I was writing my blog and crying so hard I almost lost my ability to see the screen, things were horrible. I'm not going to try and sugarcoat how bad an anxiety attack can be.  It's a dark place.

However, the beautiful thing about therapy and building defenses and patterns to combat the attacks is that you come to realize that, while the attack is bad, it isn't forever.

Of course, even without therapy and the other stuff, you know this. You know you have your "good day" and your "bad days." However, you tend to view the world as either/or.  You start to believe that your bad days are real and your good days are some mass illusion you created just to keep from killing yourself.

That isn't true though.  When you have an anxiety disorder, you don't have "good" and "bad" days. You just have days where sometimes your symptoms are really active and days when you're stable.  When your symptoms are active, you have to work harder. You have to keep your thoughts in order.  And, sometimes, you have to accept that the attack is going to come and just brace yourself for it.

Of course, the bad part is that its an internal war. All of this hell that you're feeling is happening inside you.  As painful as that is though, it's also the best part.  It means it's a matter of perception, temporary perception. Anxiety doesn't warp reality. It just warps your perceptions of it.

And, okay, here's the thing. Even though I was in The Bad, I was still able to write about it. I was still able to make sentences that functioned together. I wasn't curled up in fetal position on my bed, unable to do anything but cry and shake. That's what anxiety used to do to me.  At least I've been able to move past that . . . most of the time.

So right now, I'm good. Actually, I was good by this morning, which is pretty remarkable recovery time for me.  And yes, I know some people would feel I was being indulgent by writing about this. In our society, often we believe people who document their pain are just doing so to get attention.  Sometimes this is true, though quite often I believe if people are trying to get attention, they probably really need some.

People who are ill need to document what's going on with them. They need to talk about the progression or the regression of their situ.  They need to write about the pain, about the fear, about the actions or people or stimuli that trigger them. I think too often we live in the midst of our conditions with no context to what is happening with them.  This isn't a way to get healthy.

Writing helps a lot.  Even if it's just to dredge up one moment of sanity at a time.

Trigger Trigger Bang Bad!

I sometimes wonder how conflicty this blog sounds. Sometimes I'm superhappy and other times, I'm way down.  I would think I'm bipolar, but it's a bit too late in life to be developing that.  I assume the depths of The Bad have to do with my anxiety disorder.

Today started out as okay, but has somehow ended up in The Bad.  It was a slow build, but I knew it was happening. I kept trying to rationalize myself out of it, trying to keep every little trigger from shooting off paranoia in my head.  The shitty, shitty thing about anxiety is that it isn't rational. Logic fails you and you're left just drifting in The Bad.  

The Bad is a vast sea of possibilities . . . but none of them are good. It's all the things that can go wrong. It's all the ways the world can fuck up. It's every statement anyone has said to you all represented to you in the worst light and the worst context. It's an examination of your actions or your inaction, and how everything can go from worse to worse to worse.

The Bad is where you feel unloved.  You don't feel special. You don't feel talented. You don't feel worth anything.  And as you're drowning in The Bad, you keep trying to summon up the skills you've worked so hard to have, the ones where you can pull yourself out of this.  Mental swimming skills that keep you from choking to death on your own thoughts.

You also have to hope that when you manage to grab onto logic again, it isn't the Dark Logic.

Dark Logic is that place where all your defense mechanisms kick in, as does your emotional exhaustion, and you find yourself wondering why you keep living.  Dark Logic isn't emotional. It is, as I have mentioned before, a very cold and rational place.  It's when you don't have the strength to keep up your shields and all the hard truths come crashing in at you.  You feel very calm when you reach this place.  But if you want to keep living, it isn't the kind of calm you want to achieve.

If you're lucky, when you grab logic again, it's the kind that will work for you. It's the kind that will gently remind you that you aren't going to end up in a place where all your friends have gotten too conservative to talk to you, to where everyone walks away from you, to where you're left in a house full of cockroaches and fucked up floor tiles, with no money and tons of bills you can't pay, and a fire alarm that never goes the fuck off.

Stupid Bad. I really hate it.

The Dancing Shadows

You know, lately I've been blessed to see a lot of beautiful things. And strangely enough, I saw some of these things while at Walmart!  The Big Suckbox is usually the last place you would see something beautiful. Hell, we all know they even have songs and websites about all the ugly you find there.  Beauty is everywhere though. You just have to really take the time to look.

The Walmart I find myself most frequently in front of has a large retaining wall to one side of it. The wall is ugly. The Walmart is ugly.  You know, basically just a wasteland of modern generic. A few weeks back though, that retaining wall became the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time.

There were several flocks of birds flying overhead.  Their progress was slow and graceful. They flew in V patterns, but quite often they would interlace the V's, almost like the groups of birds were dancing.  I watched the birds at first, but then I happened to glance at the retaining wall.

The wall was catching all the shadows of the birds.  And as pretty as the birds were themselves, the shadows were stunning.  The way the light slowed and distorted the shadows made them slow down as compared to the birds, making the patterns appear to be these complex weaving spaces that locked and let go and interlocked again.  I've never seen anything quite like it.

And for me, it really did feel like time slowed down. In fact, I can still pull myself back into that moment. I can still hear the birds above me and feel the sun against my skin as the shadows danced. In is one of the coolest moments of my life.  And . .  at Walmart!

I think we all need a good stash of memories like that.  The ones where everything seems to stop and we just hover in the moment, fully aware that this is a good thing and life is good and beautiful.  You know, because the rest of the time, it kinda sucks.

Seriously though, I'm glad I have those moments.  I think I cherish them more than anything else.  Many they can't keep my Zen when there is some crisis going on, but they can keep me pretty damned happy on the daily.

As just a little defense against the hell out there, maybe it's a good idea to keep a list of your best memories somewhere near.  When things start to suck, pull out the list. Relive those memories. Be INSIDE them. It might make all the difference for you.

Ripping Down the Red Tent

Back during the day, menstrual blood was difficult to contain. When women ran around in pelts and had no panties or tampons or pads, things could get messy. In some cultures, the women found ways to contain the flow.  They used moss or other natural things.  It was still messy though. And for people who didn't have much in the way of cleaning product of replaceable items, it made sense for the women to seclude themselves during their bleeding. It was a matter of hygiene and practicality.

Sadly, like many other things that started out as practical measures, women's periods became the subject of ritual and often taboo.   Some religions went so far as to take the "I'm not the picture of tidiness right now" to "women who bleed are unclean."

Unclean.

Let's keep in mind, by the time this becomes normalized in religions, we're not just talking about physically unclean (though we are talking about that as well). We're are speaking of spiritually unclean. Spiritually tainted just because you're bleeding from your twat.

The thing is, while period blood is messy and can be frightful to look upon, it's not really an unclean thing.  After all, what the body is doing is shedding nourishment that gathered in the uterus for any potential baby that might show up there.  If it was food for the baby, it certainly wasn't unclean.

In fact, when the body purges this stuff, it's actually doing you a favor. As someone who suffers from PCOS, believe me, not having your period to flush you out is far scarier of a situation than having one.

When it gets right down to it, a woman's period is the most natural and healthy thing in the world. It shows her body is in balance, her temperature is staying even. It reconnects her with the motion of the planet. It is a basic and needful cycle of human existence.

And yet, to this day, there are people who believe that menstrual blood is unclean. And if you are on the time of the month when you're bleeding, YOU are unclean.  Unclean, in a physical and spiritual sense. The people who believe this will want you away from them.  In some cultures, you won't be allowed to prepare food or sit with others. In some religions, you can not participate while on your period.

And while this may have started out just as "well, we don't want you bleeding all over the benches," in many cases, it became "we don't want you in here because your soul is immure during this time. Not because you did anything, but just because you're a woman of childbearing age who had the audacity to not be pregnant and instead decided to brazenly expel the nourishment that was meant for your baby . . . that we happen to believe is somehow evil."

If you are part of a religion that teaches this, leave it. This religion doesn't value you as a person. It sees you as some childbearing bleed monster.  You will always be the second class spiritual participator and trust me there are better ways to experience the divine.

If you are around someone who is treating your period like it and you are unclean, leave them. They don't see you as an equal. They see you as a tainted creature that somehow they have to corral, command, and redeem. They see you as less than they are.  Again, not just physically, but spiritually.  Just because you are a woman, they do not believe you are as worthy as they are, as clean as they are, or as human as they are.

If you personally happen to believe that your period makes you spiritually unclean, STOP IT.  And I don't care if I'm disrespecting your beliefs here. In this case, your beliefs are not only wrong, they're potentially damaging to you.  They can lead to you having a warped outlook on your own body and its functions. They can also lead to you finding yourself justifying the abusive behavior of others.

The menstrual cycle, and all of its various moments, are just a part of life.  They are a messy part of life, but a lot of parts of life are messy.  Periods are a sign of health, not a sign of disease or sin.  The fact that people still believe otherwise is disgusting and stupid. Oh, and if I offended you on a religious level, I'm not sorry. If you believe period blood is unholy or spiritually unclean, your religion is stupid.

Thursday Randoms

This isn't going to be a very long post. My day was long and full and my mind is somewhat overly stimulated and flippy. Once that happens, my thoughts are so scattered whatever good intentions I had for a post are basically gone. So instead, you'll get some random facts.

• When I was a kid, I hated roasted marshmallows.  I found the whole thing messy and, as I would always set mine on fire, it was also a dangerous and covered in black crust kind of experience. 
• As an adult, I have this total love for things with burnt edges.  Marshmallows are still a sticky mess, but I love the black crust around them and the soft gooshy inside. 
• However, also as an adult, I find that I can't nor do I want the level of sugar that comes from said marshmallows. Well, okay, I WANT the sugar, but my body doesn't react well to it.
• Strawberries and cantaloupe do not go well together.
• I could just slap everyone who likes the fact that Fall Back is later than it used to be. I want my extra hour, dammit!
• One of my favorite things about Fall is listening to the high school band play in the mornings.
• When I was in high school band, one of my least favorite things was playing during those chilly, wet Autumn mornings.
• My evil plan to keep the house colder thereby getting fluffier cats is working! Bwahahahahahaha!
• The semi-outdoor cat has a special noise she makes when she can't find my roommate.

Okay, enough of the random and enough of this post. Sleep well, everyone.

The Fickle and Passive History of Blackhaired Barbie's Online Games

I'm playing a new game online called Glitch.  It's fun and I'm enjoying it a lot. I shouldn't get too attached though. I have a history of online games that I start, obsess over, and then, for various reasons, abandon.

While I play online games, I would by no means call myself a "gamer." That isn't because I think I'm better than gamers. Just the opposite really. Gamers have a level of dedication and commitment I am just incapable of producing . . . with, anything, really.

I think one of the first games I started playing was Neopets. This must have been like ten years ago or something.  Maybe even longer. Around 2000 or so.  Yes, it's been that long. I started playing Neopets shortly after I got my first PC capable of doing so.  When it died, I was so into the game I would literally go to the library every day just to make sure my damned pets were being fed.

Neopets, as the game implies, was about owning various magical pets.  You could feed them, build their stats, change their colors, get pets for them (yeah, I know. Petception!), and play with them.  You could also explore various areas of the world (Neopetia) and complete tasks for the betterment of your pets. Most of these consisted of minor quests or minigames.

After a while, they added more areas of the world, houses, things for the houses, and clothing for your pets. They would add or subtract the games (which is how you got coins) depending on how popular they were.

I adored my pets. I also loved the games you could play and found the world to be very well done. It was a bit clunky, but that problem could have been solved with a faster computer.

However, after a while, I became disenchanted with the whole thing. Less and less items were being offered for ingame coin purchase and more stuff was being developed for the premium customers. I was not going to pay for this game. It was fun, but it wasn't that good.

Eventually, I got to where I would just stick my pets in the hotel for the month so they wouldn't starve.  This went on for about a year until I finally just put them up for adoption. I walked away from Neopets and had no real desire to return.  In fact, even when I went there to get the link, I felt more annoyance than nostalgia.

One of the reasons I left Neopets was because of Dragonfable.  As a straight out fantasy game, this was more to my liking. You could choose between a thief, a warrior, or a mage. Your character had a name, gender, somewhat personalized hair style and color, as well as a color style for their outfit.

The game was fun.  The areas were well thought out. There was an overquest chaptered by smaller quests. They have special events depending on season, holiday, and whatever suits their fancy. Over all, it's a very great game.

And yet, again, I walked away.

I left for very similar reasons as Neopets.  Without paying for the premium content, there was really only so far you could go. A lot of the quests were fun, but sometimes they tended to repeat themselves too much. Plus, in order to level up, you found yourself cycling through the same areas over and over again. It got boring.

I more or less abandoned online games until I started on Facebook. A friend sent an invite to Mafia Wars.  Ehhh, Facebook games are like crack. You start one, you keep adding and adding and adding.  You find yourself obsessing over items, knowing exactly when you can go back to game because your energy has returned.

And eventually . . . you get bored. Many of the games are the same thing over and over again, with only higher levels of annoyance as variety. I've mentioned before about how annoying it is to always be asking your Facebook friends for crap for the game. In fact . . .

I've seen this before + You're annoying/How much crap do I have to ask people for? = Minutes before I get really damned sick of this game and abandon it.

So far as I can tell, Glitch doesn't seem to have the issue with premium content. It's also not a Facebook direct game so there is none of the "ask your friends for" crap.  You can talk to people and some sweetheart gave me a chicken and a butterfly, but I didn't have to post it on my FB status, which was damned nice.

How long will I play? Who knows?  I honestly wasn't even sure if I was going to enjoy it.  It takes a while for it to really begin to make sense in terms of what the fuck and why the fuck. Once that happens though, the game becomes a lot of fun.

At least for now it is. It's probably only a matter of time before I put my house up for sale and see if someone will adopt my little avatar.

Falling Patterns

I have this sinus thing happening. It has settled in my ears and therefore throws off my balance. Actually, I should say it FURTHER throws off my balance. My balance is never that great anyway.  And yes, this is because I'm fat. I get that. It doesn't change the fact that it's a deal. In fact, one of my biggest fears is falling.

The fear of falling brings out certain patterns in my behavior.  I'll walk through a room facing the direction that will do the least damage if I fall.  I've had to relearn this skill since moving into the current house. A while back, I had a fallish situation and knocked into a door that knocked into the water heater.  I wrote about that drama, as you will recall.

Now whenever I walk into the bathroom, I face the opposite direction of the water heater. If I call, it will be into shelves, not into expensive things with hookups to gaslines and hot water.

I've also noticed I'm back to setting things down as quickly as possible. If you're going to fall, you certainly don't want stuff in your hands, especially things with the potential to spill, stain, burn, or cut.  I'll set bowls or cups down on the table walk by, and then pick them up again, just so they spend less time in my clumsy hands. If I pick up a knife, it stays in my hand long enough to be used, gets slid to the other side of the prep counter, and then placed in the sink after I walk around to the other side of the counter.

There is a lot of wet going on outside. Rain, condensation, and soon to be frost can be treacherous for my goal of not landing on my ass.  Because of this, I find myself taking little caution steps. I take the smallest steps possible, plant my feet firmly, reassure myself, and THEN take another little step. This process takes forever and I know it annoys the fuck out of those around me. It still takes up less time than me falling and then waiting to recover.

Am I going overboard? Maybe. Probably. There are a lot of areas where I know my paranoia gets the best of me. It can hold me hostage and put me in these mods where I'm almost crazy-functioning.  And I hate that. I really do. I'd love to just walk across the room without ever giving the concept of falling a second thought. Then again, if I don't do these things and fall, I'll be really annoyed. Well, you know, annoyed and in pain.

A Prepared Little Camper is a Happy Little Camper

My roommate and I have this theory that things only break on the weekends.  You would be amazed at how often this holds true.

This weekend, one of the screws in his glasses broke. It didn't come out, mind you. It just broke, but it still in there. I guess this is kind of like broken-limbo.  He was concerned, naturally, because he needs the glasses to see and glasses are hellishly expensive.

His glasses are more expensive than usual because they have the transition thing.  It's an expense that is well worth it, one of the best upgrades he ever made to his glasses situation.  It does add to the price though, so the concept of having to replace glasses became even more dire.

Ever practical (and ever poor), my roommate bought a glasses-repair kit. It's a nifty little thing that hooks onto your key ring. I love things that hook to the key ring, because this mostly insures you that you won't lose them . . . unless you lose your keys.

Anyway, so once he had the repair kit as a last resort, he called the place that did his glasses and asked if they could be repaired for free.

Okay, this is an example of something I read one time on a frugal blog that I do believe to be true.  If it is a matter of expense, always give yourself permission to ask for a discount. Always ask, if this is a company you deal with often and a product they sold you that needs repairing,  if you can get it for free. Always ask if the price can be lowered.  Thay may say no, but at least you asked.  In some cases, you may actually get a great discount.

In this case, it was a no.  They said they didn't have the equipment to repair the glasses as they were. Once the screw was completely out, that might be different, but as it was, they would have to bore the screw out and work glasses voodoo or something and they didn't have a glasses witch doctor so he would have to go to Lens Crafters where they would charge him a lot of money and three goats because he didn't get his glasses there to begin with . . . or, you know, something like that. They said no.

So my roommate, who still has the spects of what is needed for his lenses, went to an online place and ordered a backup pair of glasses . . . with shipping and handling, they were less than twenty dollars.  Of course, they don't have transition stuff or anything else cool. The frames are simple and probably not that sexy.

But who cares? They are replacement glasses for less than $20. They are just there IN CASE something happens.  Glasses for him to wear while he's repairing the good ones after that screw finally falls the rest of the way out.

I loved that he did this!  Quite often, it's a very good idea to have a backup.  The backup doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to be new or pretty or have all the bells and whistles of the one you use most of the time. It only has to work. It only needs to function when you need something TO function.

I used to drive a Mazda 323.  I bought it when I was like 23 or something and used it to commute to grad school. The car came with one of those little donut tires. Cute as hell but functionally useless for me if I had a flat while going to college.  I traded in the donut for a fullsized wheel. I bought all of the new wheel used.  I didn't care if it was used or looked fugly. The point was, when I had a flat, it did what it needed to do.

I'm not advocating hoarding here.  Too many people keep their lives full of useless clutter that needs to be kicked to the curb.  The key word there, however, is useless.  There are some things we need to keep around us because they are good to have when shit, as it is wont to do, fucks up.  Have the repair kits. Have the spare tires. Have the spare glasses.  If you know you have times when you can't walk (due to gout or other conditions), and a cane or a walker. If you know you have an unpredictable period, keep pads or tampons in your purse.

I've noticed most of us tend to function better when we have plans. We tend to sleep better when we have safety nets. A little time and effort before The Big Bad happens could keep make sure it only ends up being The Little Moment of Annoying.

The Horrors of Socialhood: Makeup

While I didn't wear a costume to the Halloween party, I did wear makeup.  This is a rare thing for me, because I've yet, in all of 38 years, to find makeup that suits me.

I guess I'm one of those people who really did need professional training where make up was concerned. Even after all this time, there are aspects of it that baffle me.  Not the theories of it. I understand about shadowing and highlighting. I get that you should either play up your lips OR your eyes, but not both. I grasp the need for balance.

It's the mechanics that screw me up.

For instance, does there actually exist eyeshadow and eyeliner that doesn't make my eyes water?  I think my eyes water as soon as I spot the stuff in the makeup box.  The watering is constant and hellish and happens no matter how careful I am.  I've tried different kinds, but the watering continues.  Well, I've never tried the really expensive stuff, but I can't afford to spend tons of money on makeup.

It's the foundation part that has proven beyond my comprehension. It never looks good. I've switched product like a million times and my skin either looks too oily, too dry, too caked, too thick, too non-covering, or something else.  Anyway, always bad.

I have a theory about the foundation hell though. I think part of the problem is that my skin is always in some kind of weird state of change.  After all, there are times when my skin is too dry or too oily . . . or too both. Age is changing it as well.  Age can do things to your skin in such strange ways. sometimes it feels really thin, sometimes it feels thick and almost rubbery. Stupid aging.

So I go to put on my makeup last night and it looks like it's covering badly.  I cuss it, a lot, and then add some more. . . . because, you know, adding more is the SENSIBLE thing.  After this looks like shit as well, I could have washed it off and started over.....instead I found some older stuff I had and gooped that on my face as well.  And . . .  it looked even worse.

So I added powder  . . . one of those powders made from minerals or midi-chlorians or something that is supposed to make your skin look Teh Superawesums. . . . and it looks like shit.  So I start highlighting and trying frantically to fix the problem, all the while my eyes are starting to water, leaving streams down my face.

By this point, I was running out of time, so I sigh and decide to make the best of it. It was a Halloween party. Maybe people would think it was Baby Jane makeup or something. I leave the house, eyes still watering, my skin looking like it was painted by the worst mortician's assistant ever.

The crazy thing is, today when I was talking to someone who was at the party, they commented, "You looked beautiful, by the way."

 . . .

What the fuck?

Okay, so maybe the makeup somehow magically worked on the way there?  Maybe it was the lighting or the smoke or the fact that the person was dressed Steampunk and possibly only looked at me through goggles?

I dunno.  I really don't. The makeup continues to confuse me, bastard that it is.

Communication and the Lesson of Online Surveys

 Our economy is bad right now and every day, we see more and more companies failing.  We see protests on the left and on  the right where people voice their discontent with the situation.  We see businesses end, corporations end, banks fail, and any other number of signs of a system in break down.

People are scrambling for answers.  Some people see easy solutions that tend to be kind of jackassed in results.  Other people turn to religion or blame (or both).  Some people throw their hands in the air and claim there is no way to fix this mess.  It's finished, broken, and it's only a matter of time before we're all suffering in some rather unpleasant ways.

I'm not going to presume there are easy answers or quick fixes. I will, however, maintain there are rather obvious starting points and guidelines.  One of the most important stating points is communication.

Now, I'm not talking about just holding up signs and chanting. I'm not talking about ranting on Facebook or Youtube.  I'm not talking about bumper stickers or angry vlogs. In all of these cases, you will find one side speaking, but rarely two.  No, what I mean is communication, true, open and honest dialogue about the problems we're facing and ways to get out of them.

Any company who doesn't listen to its consumers is on its way to failure.  This doesn't mean you always have to do everything your consumers demand. Honestly, that would probably drive you insane.  However, giving them a forum for expressing their ideas and concerns is very important.  Not only does it give you feedback concerning ways to improve your product, it also makes the consumer feel valued.  When we feel value, we will place value.  When we feel a company is loyal to us, we will be loyal to that company.

Sometimes, it just takes a little work on your part.

I've gotten into this habit of doing customer service surveys for products I use, such as online games and the like. I used to avoid such things like plague, as they took up time and tended to repeat themselves.  However, a while back I did one for a Facebook game and actually noticed changes, specifically ones I had mentioned.

I'm not going to pretend my lone voice was the catalyst to the change. I'm cocky, but not that much. Rather, in a logical way, I'm going to assume that the concerns and frustrations I found with the game were the same ones others were finding as well. People actually read the survey, saw the same things mentioned over and over again, and made the changes.

However, after the changes happened, I found myself being far more positive about the game.  The frustration I'd felt about glitches and stalls, while not leaving me completely, did subside, as I had faith they would be worked on and the game would improve. In fact, knowing the company had an interest in making the game better gave me more patience where the game was concerned.

While the practical point of the survey (finding ways to improve the game) was important, the emotional impact of the survey has a greater value. Giving the consumer a voice gives them an awareness of their own power. It makes them feel like the product is something they  and the producer are in partnership to improve.  This creates an emotional investment in the consumer.  One is far less likely to walk away from something when one has an emotional investment in it.

I think one of the biggest flaws a lot of companies (and people) have is this almost obsessive need to deny any and all mistakes. We see businesses try to deny any wrong doing all the time. This pattern of behavior needs to stop.  We need to move past the "deny at all costs" and be willing to admit that things aren't always perfect. And instead of saying to the customer "Oh yes well we did that correctly and you're insane and irrational for believing otherwise," we should be willing and open enough to say, "Yes,  that was a mistake. I can tell you are dissatisfied. What would you like for us to do differently?"

Many people cringe at that idea.  I get that.  If in the situation, I think I would cringe as well. However, denial of the truth isn't going to make things get better.  All it will do is allow you to waste a lot of energy trying to cover up what went wrong.

I realize this is easier to say than to do.  Changing the way we communicate is always work.  It also has risks. It opens us up to others and exposes our flaws.  The thing is, our flaws are pretty obvious anyway.  Best to get them out in the open.   For one thing, that is a very liberating experience.

For another thing? It may just be the catalyst to changes that can be the difference between us pulling out of this economic slump and us ending up, as a nation, in  the poor house.

Updations and plans.

Well, it's Thursday night/Friday morning and I've managed to not get a costume together. I gave it a lot of serious thought. I even looked through the possible solutions, but nothing really seemed to fly.

In the end, I'm opting for a headband with bats on it. Kitschy and silly, maybe even a cop out, but, to quote Hedwig, it's what I have to work with. At least it's in the spirit. Oh, and I'll be in all black of course, but that's every day for me. Mbopmbopbop.

Now watch me forget even the stupid headband.  Oh well, let's face it; I am a very fat woman with an oxygen tank. People go as people like me for Halloween and win contests.

This isn't going to be a big post. There is a bigger post coming, but I felt like it needed more thought and attention that what I could devote tonight. My brain is jumpy and my anxiety is high. I'm at that point in the Anxiety Cycle where I just want to curl into a ball, rock back and forth, and not talk to people.  It feels like each word I say or even type is being pulled from my body by force of will.  It's a truly shitty place to be.

Anyway, I'm making the best of it. The anxiety state of mind led me to the topic that will be the bigger blog that I post tomorrow or the next day.  As for now, bat headband.  That's about as good as it will get.

Nation of Protest and Counter-protest-agogo

So the Occupy Wall Street (which has expanded to Occupy Everywhere) protest is still going on. I think people believed it would stop after the first few days. They were wrong. You'd think that politicians would realize this was a grand chance to talk to people and gain some voters. Yeah, that doesn't seem to be happening either. Instead, the movement, as movements are wont to do, is picking up haters.

People criticizing and making fun of any group of other people protesting is part of the process. When the Tea Party began their movement, people made fun of them.  Okay, mostly they made fun of their signs.  I honestly think no sign will ever be as classically misinformed and ill-advised than "Teabagging for Jesus."  A bit of advice, before you ever make your protest sign, please consult spellcheck and Urban Dictionary.

There are two things happening as commentary towards the Occupy Wall Street movement that are on my nerves. One of them is this little ditty going around Facebook where it shows some protester holding a sign saying they hate evil corporations, but are dressed all in labels, holding a cellphone, and eating McDonalds. The point, of course, is supposed to be that "clearly you don't hate the evil corps because everything you own is from one."

Everyone who is against the protesters sees this and laughs and feels all superior, but really, the picture proves nothing.  I don't think most people are against corporations in general, just the ones that do horrible things (like gut the environment and chain children to sewing machines, etc). No one is mad because you make money and are successful. People are just pissed off if you did that via the powers of evil.

As for all the clothes with labels and stuff, what were people supposed to do? Make their own clothing? Stop by Ye Local Amish Shoppe and haggle with Joseph over his homemade cap?  You know, either way, people were going to be screwed on the clothing issue. Either they would be criticized for wearing things with labels, or be called hipsters for wearing things without labels.

The other counter protest that is on my nerves is the 53% website.  They are these people who are poor but trying their best to pay their bills and be successful. You get people writing things like, "I grew up poor. I have college loans. I live with my parents so I can save money. I work two jobs. I will get out of debt. My decisions are my own."

Okay, so you're paying off your debt. You're making sacrifices. You're working several jobs. You're doing all kinds of shit to stay above water.  That is just awesome for you.

I'm glad you're a responsible person. I'm glad you're healthy enough to work several jobs. I'm glad you're lucky enough to have them. I'm glad you're lucky enough to have family you can stay with. I'm glad you're lucky enough to have the chance to get out of debt. That's great.

But, despite all your hard work? A lot of the rest of it IS luck. I know people who have worked hard all of their lives who currently have no income. Is this because of decisions they made? Yes, in an existential kind of way, because they did things like trust employers and trust in the system.  Believe me, they know better now.

Listen, I'm glad you could pull yourself up by your boot straps. More over, I'm glad you had boot straps.  But dammit, show a little understanding for the people who don't.

I think one of the the basic mistakes the haters are making is that they believe the protesters are looking for handouts.  From what I understand, in having talked to them,  that isn't the case.  More than anything, I believe they want people to actually take more responsibility.  They want individuals, and groups, and corporations, to realize their actions have very real consequences.

If the corporations what to survive, they should listen.  Otherwise, people may begin to believe that maybe it isn't a good idea to have all the labeled stuff. They may go back to making their own clothing, growing their own food, fixing their own meals.  They may walk away from the phones and the computers and the stupidly expensive coffees.

Though, if they do that . . . I don't think the corporations will survive for much longer.

Put It Back in your Robe, Zeus

I think, as far as I can remember, that I've stayed out of the Deep Fuckery that seems to be DC comics these days. I kind of felt like it was best to just wait and see where the bodies fell and then watch which ones rise back up. I even stayed quite as Starfire giggled her way back onto the scene, because I think a lot of people made strong points about that.

However, now that it has been announced that Wonder Woman will have a new origin story, I just can't stay quiet.  Because this fundamentally sucks.

They are making it to where her father is Zeus. Zeus! One of the biggest rapist in the history of rapists!  This man has no morals, no respect for women, no respect for those who are of lesser station than him, no respect for anything. He doesn't deserve to be tied into the Wonder Woman mythos. It sucks that he's tied into the stories of the children he already has.

It's not that this makes her powers stem from a man. Okay, that is part of it. Wonder  Woman has always been powered by females (either through Aphrodite blessing her or by being gifted from Athena on her creation). To stem her power back to a man is insulting and shitty and undeserving of this character and what she stands for.

The bigger issue, however, has to do with the how and why of this. Having Zeus for a father means that her mother had sex with this total bastard. Which means, unless they make her mother a non-Amazon, either an Amazon was raped by Zeus or for some insane reason that defies the logic of everything this culture stands for, willingly consented to having sex with this rapist fuckwit.  Either is bad.

This is truly one of those times when I'm at a loss as to what the writers were thinking.  How could they possibly see this as a good idea. Oh wait. They claim it was because "everyone needs a father" and "this will make it easier for people to relate to her."

No, not everyone needs a father. Not if there is a perfectly reasonable and, by the mythology of the culture, plausible explanation of why she doesn't have one.  And no, one does not need a father to be someone others can relate to.  What? Do you feel like that unless a man is involved, the character is missing something?  Really? Because she's not.

And what will she get in exchange for this donation of rapist sperm? Daddy issues? Pissed off crazy Hera trying to kill her? Crazy siblings trying to bother her? The same bullshit rehashed stories that we find with every child of Zeus and their storylines?

Yup. I bet that is exactly what we will get.

Post-Apocalyptic Purple Haze

You know, sometimes illusions are nice.  I've been listening to songs from my childhood and reading the posted lyrics. Yeah, a lot of these people were stoned when they wrote this shit, because there is tons of "what the fuck is that?" going on.  And I'm not just talking about the lyrics to "Stairway to Heaven," though they certainly fit into this as well.

Not that I mind. I think a lot of bands suffer greatly whenever everyone sobers up and stops performing under the influence.  Then they just kind of become generic and crappy. Please, for the sake of your art, stay on your drugs.

Or stay chunky. I loved me some Janet Jackson when she was that 15 pounds or so overweight. Then she lost it, found her bellybutton, and lost the ability to be cool. Ever since then, her songs have been eye roll-worthy, at best.

It's also funny how age changes your perspective on things. I remember being a kid and watching videos and thinking they were so fucking cool. I watch them now and . . . yeah, no. For one thing, the drug-induced haze that made for good lyrics, did not make for good video planning. NOT. AT. ALL.

Second of all, what was with all the post-apocalyptic stuff? Did some video director get a good deal on the Mad Max movie sets and just decide to use them over and over again?  Maybe something about edgy about lots of dirt piles? I love the idea of the broken pieces of a destroyed society as much as the next girl, but how many videos can we really see in this future?

Maybe it's because there was this kind of drug-fueled ennui in the 80s that we were fast approaching destruction.  You know the whole Nuclear War thing. I still remember listening to Sting's "Russians" as an 11 yr old and feeling, OH, so serious about it.  Now, the song just kind of sounds judgie . . . like a lot of his music.

But not "Murder by Numbers." That's still awesome.

The Horrors of Childhood: Mask of the Plastic Death Addition

This isn't exactly the same Wonder Woman mask I had as a kid, but it serves the same purpose for our discussion. Of all the horrors of childhood, cheapassed plastic Halloween masks are one of the worst.

What harm could come from a simple Halloween mask? Oh, let me tell you! A lot. Tons. And the horror comes from many levels.

First of all, just look at the thing.  Black eye holes, the small opening at the nose and mouth, the static expression . . . these things look like beheaded dead people.  Yes, I realize it's kind of hard to be alive and beheaded, but you know what I mean.  It looks like some cheap death mask.  Wearing it doesn't evoke Wonder Woman. It evokes DEAD Wonder Woman.

The creepiness of the mask is truly just warning for the dangers to come. The toy maker who created Halloween masks quite possibly also came up with toys called Sack Full of Scorpions and Knife Hat. Those masks are death traps. I'm shocked parents' haven't protested them in droves!  I guess it's one of those things like banning VC Andrews books.  No one does it because everyone assumes it's already being handled.

If you put on a plastic mask, there are two things you notice from the start. The first is that, despite the creepy holes in eyes, nose, and mouth, somehow the mask is difficult to both breath in and see out of.  The holes hit just wrongly enough to make it ill fitting on . . . well, everyone.  They also get hot very quickly.

The second thing you notice is that this death trap has another death trap around it.  As uncomfortable as the mask is, it's going to be quit painful to remove.  See, when you put one of the damned things on, the supermegaultracheap elastic band around it has wound itself around your hair and is going to pull like a bastard when you try and take off the mask.

The other horrors of the mask take a bit of time to uncover.

• The bottom of the mask will hit your neck at a strange angle. It won't seem so bad at first, but as the night wears on, you'll start to realize that the skin is blistering.
• In fact, all edges of the mask can cause chaffing.  If you move against any part of the edge too quickly, it can also cut you.
• However, the cuts won't be as bad or as painful as the cut you get on your tongue if you make the mistake of sticking it through the mouth breathing hole in the mask.  By the way, you will ALWAYS make this mistake.
• Sometimes your tongue doesn't get cut by the mouth opening. Sometimes, your tongue just gets stuck.
• The elastic band is held in place by two staples.  Yes, staples.  No, they don't feel that great if they open and knock against your face.
• If, and when, the elastic band breaks, it will snap back viciously and hit you in the ear.  Interestinly, even over 30 years later, you will still be able to recall the level of hell that pain causes.

Past Halloween, you're stuck with this plastic face version of a Lament Box.  What do you do with it?  Well, you could hang it on the wall . . . but it casts creepy shadows. You could put it up in your closet . . . but at some point, it's going to fall down in your face and stare blankly at you.

You could toss it in the toybox . . . and yes, this doll coffin is where many a Halloween mask end up. They are lost, discarded, and soon sporting rips that distort the already distorted facial features. Eventually, they get tossed into the trash can so they can scare the bejesus out of birds.

Truly, no good can come from a plastic mask.  It's just one shit show after another, often ending in spilled blood, stinging pain, and disturbing imagery. Bad, bad, bad.   We can put a stop to this though.  We can walk past the plastic mask aisles and commit to better and safer costumes. We have the power. It's in our hands.

Unless you lost your hand to some of those plastic masks being ripped open and left to die in a toybox.  But if that's ever happened, then I'm quite sure you know why the masks should never be seen again.

The Horrors of Childhood: Halloween Candy Addition

All of my life, I've heard the urban legends about Halloween. We all know the stories. People put razor blades in candy. People put severed fingers in candy. You get the idea; people mess with candy.

I keep wanting to capitalize "candy."  Feel free to smirk about that all you like.

I'm not going to presume to debunk or validate the "evil crap in candy" legend. I have no idea if it ever happened or not.  The roots of the legend are understandable. There is a certain risk to walking up to the homes of strangers and asking for candy.  The idea that all of them would be goodhearted and generous seems contrary to humanity.  There is almost a comforting aspect to the idea that some of them are sickos, lacing candy with broken glass and razors and LSD.

Although, now that I write that out, it sounds pretty unrealistic.

Who, honestly, would have the time and inclination to buy bags and bags of candy and fuck with it?  Think about it. You would have to open every damned candy and stick a razor blade in there.  This means you have to buy rather large-ish candy, which is quite expensive these days.

You'd also have to buy candy that is easily repackaged. . . which means you would HAVE TO repackage it . . . which seems like a fuckload of trouble.  I'm sure we can all appreciate the effort put forth in trying to screw up someone's innocent childhood, but it seems like there would be quicker and more intense ways to do that.

Okay, so cut out the pre-packaged stuff. What about homemade candy or fruit? Again, this seems unrealistic. I will concede that fruit and homemade "Bag Full of WhattheFuck" would be easier to fill with razor blades or glass or drugs, but . . . well, no one actually EATS the fruit or the "Bag Full o'Whatthefuck" so the chances of someone finding a razor in there are slim.

Let's face it, if a kid has 200 pieces of good candy and an apple, that apple could have 15 razor blades in it and the kid would never get cut. By the time he's eaten all the candy and twitching away in his sugar coma, the apple is kind of rotting.  The next morning it will get tossed into the trash along with all the wrappers from the candy that was eaten.

So here's my theory. There was this parent out there who had to listen to their kids bitching about Halloween for weeks. They debated about costume ideas, discussing it until the parent wanted to pull out their hair. Costumes were made or bought, either way, through the effort of the parent, not the children. THEN, the parent had to herd the children through town, watching as they took candy from the houses, listening to their exuberant little prattle about what they received. All the while, they're having to smell all this candy, knowing that, despite all their hard work, they get none of it.

So . . . when they get home, they tell the children they need to "inspect" the candy for dangers. When the kids ask why, the parent says something like, "Oh, well see there was this one kid . . . in California I think . . . during the '70s. They cut their tongue in half because someone put a razor blade in it."

With horror-filled eyes, the children handed over their buckets of candy, thankful their parents loved and protected them from some . . . I dunno, looming figure of Charles Manson dressed as Mother Goose as he handed out razor-bladed candy, hoping none of the kids noticed how his fingernails were discolored from blood stains.

Anyway, so while the kids were freaking out about this, the parents shifted through the candy and pulled out all the Almond Joys.  They also took the Peanut butter Cups and anything else that looked good. Though, they left a couple of the premium ones, just to make it look legit.

The next day at school, the kids told the story about the razor blade candy.  But, as all stories get embellished, it altered from some random kid from California during the '70s to "one of my mom's cousins" or something. More kids told the story and eventually, it became something most of us didn't believe . . . but maybe kinda did.

And I'm sure someone is going to read this and call bullshit on it. They're going to write me and tell me that they, for sure, know someone who DID eat glass or drugs or whatever from Halloween candy.  I won't argue with them either.  I'm not saying it never happened, just that it's high unrealistic.  That doesn't mean it's impossible.

Although, these days, I bet there are a lot of kids who wouldn't be so freaked out about this. They'd probably take out their candy bar and say, "Oh look . . . candy. And joy! It has a free razor blade inside!"

Because if there's anything we all love, it's that free prize inside . . . no matter how shitty it is.

Does That Mask Come in my Size?

One of the things that sucks about being a fat girl is Halloween.  Okay, the candy part doesn't suck. That's always great . . . unless you end up with those crappy taffies in the orange and black packages.  Those things are truly the fruitcake of Halloween.

No, the part that sucks is finding a damned costume. I think you can see why. Most celebs and things of that nature will either humiliate you more or are beyond the scope of your ability to create. I mean, I love Ursula from Disney's Little Mermaid, but it's beyond my crafting abilities and the white hair would be impossible.

So for the most part, even though I wish it could be otherwise, most of the time, my Halloween costumes are lame as fuck. The fatness, the poorness, and my halfassed planning usually serve to make for one crappy costume.

I've been . . .

• a fortune teller.  This one works pretty well. I have all the gear and fortune tellers can be fat and old and still work as a costume.
• a vampire. Even though everything I own is black and I'm pale as they come, somehow this never quite works. 
• a witch.  This works with ease, but I now find it rather offensive, given this is an actual religious practice. 
• on that same note of offensive religious icons, one Halloween I was the pregnant Virgin Mary. I rested my whiskey glass and an ash tray on my belly.  Our guy roommate at the time played Joseph. He stood around bitching because the baby wasn't his.
• various other things that were shitty and made no sense.  In many cases, even I didn't know what they were supposed to be.

This really frustrates me because I truly should be able to come up with a decent Halloween costume for myself.  It's my favorite holiday, for crying out loud!!

But will I manage to do this? *sigh* Probably not.  I have some good ideas, but more than likely they won't pan out. I'll end up either dressing like nothing or just looking like some damned idiot.  I mean, you know . . . more so.

More GRRM Geekery

I'm also lame because I did this earlier today.

Wolfsister's A Song of Ice and Fire Meme [spoilers]

1. Why did you first pick up the books?
Admittedly, I was late to the party. I read some stuff about it on i09 and saw the Ned Stark memes. I was, how you say, intrigued.

2. Who is your favorite character?
Tyrion. His story reads like a Coyote tale and I'm always a sucker for that.

3. What is your favorite canon ship?
Jaime/Brienne. Jaime was the perfect, devoted, and loving twin who would have fought off the world of singletons forever to keep him and Cersei together. But . . . as she wasn't devoted, he deserves someone who is just as loyal as he can be.

4. What is your favorite non cannon ship?
Arya/Gendry. I hope beyond hope that at the end of the series, Arya and Gendry meet back up and make angry little babies.

5. Who is your least favorite character?
Theon Greyjoy. You know, it isn't even that he betrayed Robb and ended up getting Winterfell burned to the ground, it's that he did it in such a self-indulgent, bratty, clumsy way. Idiot.

6. What is your favorite theory?
Rhaegar and Lyanna were totally in love and Jon Snow is actually their child.

7. Who is going to be the Stark in Winterfell in the end?
Sansa. She seems to be the only person headed in that direction. Plus, I think for someone who couldn't wait to get out of there, she's finally realized it's where she was happiest.

8. What is your favorite scene?
The chapter where Dany is in the warlock house. That was so well done.

9. You can sleep with anyone in these books, who is it?
Oberyon Martell. Before he died, clearly. He was beautiful and funny, passionate and very intelligent. I'm guessing I would have walked away from the encounter preggers.

10. You can kill anyone in these books, who is it?
Ramsay. He just really does not need to live.

11. What is your favorite quote?
"Never forget who you are, for surely the world won’t. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." - the line that made me love Tyrion.

12. One last thing?
No one in the universe has ever complained as much as Stannis.

The R Word

Today just oozed with responsibility!  We paid bills, paid rent, made sensible decisions, and felt all good about it.  Kind of scares me when we're this responsible.

Actually, it doesn't.  In fact, there has always been a problem where responsibility and I are concerned. We've never been close. Quite often, I found myself running in the opposite direction.

Though, I have to ask myself why. I have no idea why doing the proper and practical thing has always been so difficult for me. Okay, not just difficult, often damned near emotionally impossible.

The crazy thing is, I feel better when I do the responsible stuff.  If the bills are paid, I don't have to stress about them. If I eat for health and not for pleasure, I feel stronger.  If I make sure to set boundaries and explain myself to others, I'm not having to constantly worry about where things stand. Being responsible actually makes life easier.

So why does it set my teeth on edge?

I really wish I knew. I also wish I'd learned the comfort of paying bills on time when I was in my late teens. I wish I'd  had the sense to make sure each dollar served a purpose towards my goals and didn't just slip through my fingers on stupid crap.

That's in the past though. All I can do now is try to be a responsible little moppet now. I know it will make me happy, so I should do it. Yes, I should. I should, dammit.

GRRM Geekery

I'm almost finished with A Storm of Swords and I have to say I'm rather impressed.  I will admit some people's POV stories aren't as strong as they were in the first two books (Dany's in the first and Arya's in the second), for a book in the middle of a series, it certainly isn't falling into the Middle Book Lag.

Jaime is a POV character for the first time in ASOS, and his story is excellent. Tyrion's chapters, as always, are wonderful. It's interesting that a lot of things that happened in the first book for Tyrion and Ned come back to repeat themselves to just Tyrion in this book. Then again, there is a lot of Trickster theme in the Tyrion story, so the fact that patterns repeat is appropriate.

Plotwise, there is a lot of good writing. Minor plots end, most often not in the way we assumed they would. Things that seem really obvious to happen next somehow never work out. And, of course, several Starks get so close to each other, within yards of each other in one case, but never reunite. All the while, the real dangers are getting bigger and scarier. We have major death from the Others in this book, as well as some glances at what old magic is capable of.

Overall, I think this has been my favorite book.  The first one was good, and the second one, while it did have some issues, was excellent in the Tyrion and Arya chapters. A Storm of Swords is great.  I think the way he added POV characters and settled some of the issues brewing from the first two books have been quite well done.

And yes, I know this has just been a post of my geekery, but I'm just so happy about this right now. And expect more. There are some elements of GRRM's work that I wish to discuss in detail.  I'll do that later though. For now, I want to get back to reading.

Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part Five

Two of the biggest obstacles to happiness come in the form of the words "if" and "when." Honestly, I wish it was illegal to place these two words anywhere near happiness.  "If" and "when" are the great destroyers, the limiters, and the catalysts to the mammoth and often unrealistic conditions we will place on our own happiness.

It usually goes something like this:

I will be happy . . .

WHEN I have a better job.
WHEN I don't live in this house.
WHEN I'm well.
WHEN I'm married.
WHEN I'm a parent.
WHEN I'm rich.
WHEN I'm past this current problem.
WHEN I'm thin.
WHEN I'm beautiful.
WHEN I'm loved.

Or . . .

I would be happy

IF I had a better job.
IF I didn't have to deal with annoying people.
IF I wasn't poor.
IF I didn't live in this place.
IF there was no war.

I could go on, but you get the idea. We let the "if" and "when" of the matter suck out the happiness from our bones until we're just bitter, brittle creatures who have nothing at all in the way of joy.  We dwell on the hellish nature of our situations, brood over our past, rehash slights and insults, lament our current living situations.

And none of that does us any good at all.

As annoying as the current self help book is, the woman's core idea is true.  The past is gone.  It may have wounded us and left scars, but we're not there any more.  We can either cling to it or just let it go and move on with our lives.

The same can be said, and must be said, for the future.  The future is totally uncertain. Things may get a lot better . . . or they might not.  This may be, to quote the movie, as good as it gets for us.

For my part, I'm going to try and make a commitment to letting go of the "if" and "when." Instead of letting my enjoyment of life be conditional, I'm going to grab it by the balls and demand, defiantly, to experience joy. My "if" and "when" will now be replaced by "even if."

I will be happy . . .

EVEN IF no one ever loves me.
EVEN IF I stay poor all my life.
EVEN IF I never get healthy.
EVEN IF I never get a good job.
EVEN IF the house crumbles around me.
EVEN IF more people die.

I will be happy, even if, even if, even if . . .

I will be happy.  

The circumstances aren't going to keep me from my smile.

Your Own Personal Thesis

I finished watching the first season of Bravo's show about artists. I wasn't happy with how it ended, but I found the show, as a whole,  to be quite thought provoking.  Expect quite a few blogs over it in the next few weeks.

One of the things the artists on the show were criticized for was continuing to use themselves as the subject of their art.  One girl did a lot of nudes. One guy painted his face over and over.  Many of them used their own image, even, at one point, a man who didn't wish to, but in the end allowed himself to be photographed both for his own work and that of another artist.

Like I said, there was a fair amount of criticism over this, both from the judges and fellow artists. Some of them were accused of vanity or narcissism. I find this to be both short-sighted and cliche.

You know, when I started this blog, I intended for it to be about something.  You know, something practical, helpful, and all that blah. There are even moments when it comes back to that. The truth is though, this blog is about me. It's my thoughts and feelings at the moment. It's my documentation of my life and issues. It's my exploration of subject matter.  No matter what I happen to be exploring, the continuing theme is always myself.

I think a lot of artists are doing this same thing. They use themselves as their subject matter because they are the focus of their artistic narrative. HOWEVER, I don't think this is, as often as we want to believe it is, some self-indulgent, work through the issues kind of vanity project.

Our world is becoming more and more isolating.  Many of us live alone and often don't even talk outloud to other people for hours or even days on end. Some of us rarely go outside.  Many of us go weeks or years or even life times without human touch. We grow more and more distant, and in doing so, ourselves and our bodies become our finite contact with the world.

Now for those of you sitting in your homes with family members and roommates and friends and all other kinds of humans, this may seem like an exaggeration.  But for a lot of people, all of this human contact just isn't there. Many people live very isolated lives. Sure they may interact with other humans on a daily basis, but a lot of that interaction has no emotional context.

Plus, either by nature or just some aspects of culture, there is at least a mild level of sociopath in a lot of folks these days. For many, their minds and their bodies become the only true contact with reality.  With this in mind, when they try to create something to express a truth, their own form becomes the closest true representation of that.  It is, at least, something they can touch.

And I guess a lot of people would see this as sad.  I'm not sure I really do.  To be honest, I think this is a comforting idea.  Isolation leads to less chances of being hurt.  Of course, that could be my own inner sociopath talking.

Whatever the case, I think it's wrong to just start lumping all artist-referencing as self-indulgent and vain.  Many times there are deeper issues involved.  Or hell, maybe they just couldn't get anyone else to pose for them.

It's Centipedes All the Way Down

Tom Six is doing a sequel to The Human Centipede. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed or bored.  Maybe it's the boredom that is causing my annoyance. Or maybe I'm annoyed because the whole concept fails to deliver.

If you didn't know, the first movie is about this crazy German surgeon who specialized in separating conjoined twins.  At some point, his brain switched from Normal to Crazy with a Deep Side Dish of Sociopath and he became obsessed with sewing people together. In fact, he decided the best way to do this was via a continual digestive track. I'll let you work out in your head what this would involve. Yes, it's a deeply disturbing concept.

When I first heard about this movie, the idea of it revolted me and truly offended me.  Both of these things happening at the same time is rare, so I knew I had to see it.  The problem is, the idea of the movie was far better than the actual movie. I came away bored, annoyed, and found myself making parody songs about it with my best friend.

The problem is, life is far more shocking that fiction.  It's far more nasty and scary and horrifying.  And no matter how hard we try to provoke, in most cases, our efforts pale in comparison to reality.

I saw this play out on an episode of the reality show about artists.  They were supposed to make "shocking art." Most of them really struggled with this concept. Though, to be honest, many of them struggle enough.  A lot of people defaulted to the usual (sex, religion, gender images) and didn't really live up to the challenge.

It's not that they didn't try, it's just that shock is very subjective and most of us find less and less about unreal situations that troubling.  We know the situation is created; that very fact makes it far more safe.

Reading the book Alive was disturbing.  I can read about fictional cannibalism all day long and not bat an eye.  However, knowing that people were, in real life, stuck in a situation where they were forced to eat human disturbed me deeply.  I had nightmares for weeks.  Even now it's quite unsettling.

As I've mentioned before, watching my grandmother die was shocking and disturbing.  No matter how right it was that I was there and no matter how appropriate the situation, I still touched on something quite taboo. Even to this day, I have trouble with it.

However, to try and capture these levels of disturbance on canvas or in a movie . . . I'm just not sure it would have the same effect. The movie about the situation in Alive wasn't as horrific as the novel.  The movie had just enough separation to sooth the horror.  By the same token, if some crazy person actually started sewing people together for real, yeah, I would be freaked out about it.  But as fiction, it just doesn't mess with me so much.

Is it necessary that we have things that shock and disturb us in art?  Clearly.  The idea of catharsis via art is ancient. Art can tackle subjects many people fear to experience in their real lives.  The problem is, I think for a lot of us, the mundane tasks of living have somehow become so disturbing and stressful as to eclipse the frightening aspect of what lurks in the dark places, even in the dark places of ourselves.

I think given the choice between death by a serial killer and facing looming dept we can't pay off, more and more of us would opt for the killer.

Stabbity

Wow, I was in such a shitastic mood most of the day.  It got better, but this morning things were horrible.  I kept biting my tongue to keep the rage at bay, but it shot out from time to time. I had to resist the urge to run out of the house and scream at the dumbfuck neighbor who insists on revving his crappy looking motorcycle over and over again. Asshat.  I wish ill on that bike.

I know I lack in terms of a generous spirit and tend to want things to be quiet and peaceful. But these days even the most rational and patient person would have trouble staying chill in my neighborhood.  I really liked it better when most of the houses were abandoned.

Now we have biker asshole across the street who not only sits on his bike and revs the insanely loud motor over and over again, he also dries it off with the fucking leaf blower. Yes. Really. He sits on his bike and dries it off with the loudest fucking thing he could find.  Yes, while he's on it. He sits there, with his mouth gaping and probably drooling, while he blows the fringe on his bike around with the damned leaf blower. Yes, his bike has fringe.

The people who recently moved into one of the other houses have six thousand dogs.  Or, you know, it sounds like six thousand. It may only be four. I'm not quite sure. All I know is that barking never stops. Ever. There is always, always barking.  Even in my sleep, I hear the barking. I love animals, I really do.  But I dislike that barking with a passion. Hearing all six thousand of those dogs just rakes my nerves.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out which annoys me more.  The quick and dirty would be the bike noise.  I say that because it's closer and louder and, as it's more under the control of someone who I presume to be an thinking human, it's the more preventable.  Then again, it only happens for maybe an hour or so a day. The barking is constant. So yeah, I guess I'll have to give the major stabbity award to the dogs.

Oh, they must have realized they won. They just got so much louder . . .