Welcome Sixth Follower . . . Who is Apparently Invisible

I was having internet trouble today and wasn't surprised when Blogger wouldn't load. Nothing else, has so why would it? Anyway, when I arrived at the Dashboard, I noticed I had a new follower. This is always a moment of joy for me because, you know, I have so few. Anyway, I click on the followers link to see who it is . . . and get some Chrome yadda yadda page about things screwing up.

I would love to say I did something smart at this point, but I didn't. I hit reload and then I hit reload again. Then, because clearly this was the path to success, I hit reload again. It's shocking how that didn't work the third time.  For some reason, my brain started working again and I flushed my DNS.

Wow, I kept typing "DNA." Can you imagine how cool it would be if we could flush our DNA? Just kind of select the stuff we like and then knock the rest of it out in favor of better coding?  This would be excellent.  But back to the story.

I come back to Blogger and click on my Followers. By now, I'm really invested in this because I've spent, you know, more than two minutes on it, so the excitement is building. Who could it be? Who could it be? And . . .

For some reason, it tells me I only have five followers. I'm a little confused at first. Five? It said six. I look them over, happy for the people I have. Hi, guys! Love you! And I realize that maybe it was a mistake. Someone probably followed me but then realized they didn't mean to and backed out of it just in the midst of the process of my DNS flush.  Oh well.

But when I went back to the Dashboard, there it was again. Six followers. Six . . . but the sixth person is invisible . . .

Huh.

Now I'm completely obsessed with this. I have a sixth follower, but someone I can not see.  Who could it be? Who could it be? I have some theories.

• The sixth follower does not wish for people to know they read my blog. I can understand this. It's kind of like how I don't like people to know I fucking love Justin Timberlake watch Gossip Girl and stuff like this.  If this is the case, then you have no idea how overjoyed I am at the thought of being someone's dirty little secret!

• The sixth follower blocks themselves from view for privacy reasons. If that's the case, I get it. The interwebs can be a scary place.  You don't want people knowing who you are and you don't want them stealing your stuff. Cool.
  
• The sixth follower is from the government. Yeah, this totally wouldn't surprise me. I'm sure the government has been listening in on my conversations for years.  It's fine.  I have no problem keeping them entertained.  They probably cry when they have to leave the Watching Blackhaired Barbie assignment. 

I'm sure there are other reasons as well as to why the sixth follower is invisible. Whatever the case, welcome. I'm glad you're following me. I cuss a lot. I hope that doesn't offend you. I also repeat myself. Often. Probably best just to skim the posts, that way whatever you actually pay attention to seems fresh and new.

Though, if you wish, it would be really fun for you to drop me an email or leave a comment telling me who you are . . . unless of course the government won't let you. I understand if they won't.  As for me, I'm going to go back to listening to "Sexy Back" watching the Borgias.

Topic Control: The Riddle of the Sellsword

Hello, everyone. It's Monday again and my topic was chosen for me. Topic for the day was "You watched the new GoT trailer. What do you think of the riddle of the sellsword?"

The trailer is posted, but if you don't want to watch it, I shall explain. The riddle is asked by Varys and it goes like this. "Three great men . . . a king, a priest, and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who lives, who dies?"

Varys asks the riddle to discuss the idea that power, like most concepts, is just an illusion.  People have power when we allow them to have power, and more importantly, because we believe they should.  In this case, it is the sellsword's perceptions that are important, as he is the one who can act or not act.

Now, because each of the three men is asking for the other two to be killed, it can be assumed they have no weapons of their own or lack other means by which to commit the murders. This means, in actuality, the three "great men" are without power. All true power lies with the sellsword as he is the one who will decide everyone's fate. On one level, this could be seen as a "might makes right" situation.

Society is rarely that simplex. For as long as their has been civilization as we know it, brute force has been a type of power, but not the dominating power.  Most often, it becomes a tool by which those in power keep their positions. In the case of the riddle, this means the three great men. One holds the power of rule by law. One holds power by belief in the divine.  The last holds power because he has means to buy a lot of stuff.

Now, it's kind of fun to really dig into this riddle, as I've been watching the Borgias. Rome in 1492 (and in many other years) was certainly a place centered around power via faith, law, and wealth.  At the end of the day though, quite often you see this same riddle playing out.  Everyone needs soldiers to help them hold what they have.

So . . . who lives and who dies?

This depends on the paradigm of the sellsword. What does his really believe? Some people would say that if the man is a sellsword, a mercenary, then he will save which ever man offers him the best deal.  The great man who promises the most wealth, the most blessing, a title, a home . . . this man will be saved.  Others would argue that most mercs would see even that as pipe dreams and just go with which ever man had the most money on hand at the moment. It's practical, after all.

In both of these scenarios, it's likely the rich man will be the one to live. He has the best chance of having money on hand and the one most likely to be able to make offers the sellsword will see a viable for him. He's also the one who probably has the most experience convincing people to do what he wishes. The king and the priest can do this within their own realms of influence, but won't have the skills on practical matters (probably).

Those are just two possible paradigms though. We tend to believe someone who is a sword for hire has no loyalty, but that doesn't take into account his history or the truths he made not always admit to, but really believes.

If he believes in the divine, he won't kill the priest. The king and the rich man die. It will not matter what the other two offer him.  If he truly accepts the idea of a god (or in this case, gods) that rule over everything, no amount of earthly wealth will matter. This life is temporary.

Now, on the other hand, some people have these really strong emotional bonds with their leaders.  I think in a way, this is something we lack as Americans because we trade our leaders out so often (and should). In places where the leaders rarely change and people see them as the focus of what makes things stable and good, people develop strong ties to them. They become, in the minds of some people, like family.  So, if the sellsword, at the core of his being, is a loyal subject of his king, then the priest and the rich man die.

What happens if the sellsword has no strong paradigm leanings? What if he isn't that practical, has no religion, doesn't like the king, and just kind of doesn't care?  Then it will depend on any number of other factors.  Who is the least annoying?  Who hasn't been rude to him before? Which one looks the most like the man who stole his wife?

Of course, and this is where those of the upper classes get nervous, if the sellsword thought about it, the best course would just be to kill all three of them. More than likely, each of the "great men" has done enough stuff in his life that he would deserve to be put to the sword.  The world would be rid of them and better off in the long run.

However, it takes the common classes a long time to reach this point.  Quite often, society does everything it can to keep them from it. Usually whatever conflicts happen between the rich, the powerful, and religious can be pushed aside when they need to unite to smack the common people back down.

What would I do personally? For me, it comes down to a matter of trust. I don't think I could trust a king who ordered the death of others simply to push his agenda, nor could I trust a priest under those circumstances. In both cases, there is this assumption that they should put the needs of others before themselves. The rich man on the other hand, I can trust him. Will he lie and backstab me? Yes, of course he will if it benefits him. He never said he wouldn't though.  In the end, I'd rather deal with an obvious bastard than a skulking one.

The Year of January

I'm not really sure why it is, but to me it feels like January of 2012 has lasted forever. The weeks seem to drag by.  The hours go on and on. Half the time I think it's far later than it is in the day. I'm not even sure why this is happening. This month is in slow motion.

A lot of people believe you want time to move slowly.  It's running out, as it were, so the slower it moves, the better off you are.  As for me, I somewhat have an interest in winter and spring lasting as long as possible before Hell!Summer gets here again. However, I find that as much as I'd think I'd like time slowing down, in all actuality, it annoys me.

It's not that I want time too move too quickly (other than the aforementioned summer months), it's just that I want it to stay consistent.  I like time when it moves at a regular rhythm. It's comforting.  When things get off of that cadence, I start to feel screwed up.

This also leaves me with a mystery.  Has my screwed up mental state of paranoia and anxiety been because of this upset in my sense of time movement . . . or has the sense of time movement been altered because I've been paranoid and anxious?  The problem is, I just really can't tell. It could be either.

I was sick a lot this month. And, again, I can't tell if the illness made time feel slower of if the time pacing made me sick.  Though, between my mental breakdowns and the days of feeling under the weather, I can safely say that more of the slow January was in pain than it was out of it. Again, perhaps that is why it felt so slow.

So what happened in this year of January?

• The stupid government tried to take over the internet and we told them no. They backed off but it seems that some shadow world government is trying to do it again. Fuckers. 
• I finished watching Gossip Girl and loved every minute of it.  I also wrote a post about it, but you already know that. 
• Past GG, I started watching Borgia: Faith and Fear. I thought it was awful at first, but the guy playing Rodrigo Borgia does so with such charming decadence that I can't help but love it. Besides, no matter what throne people are playing for, I'm always going to love watching them.
• I had a lot of fun with my roommate watching stuff on the Roku and playing games. It's really been a wonderful addition to our lives.
• Our kitchen faucet decided to die slowly and then die really fucking fast. This caused stress, agitation, and cost a lot of money.  Now we have a new sink that looks less scary and works far better. Yay!
• We killed mice.
• My blog turned a year old and I felt a total rush of accomplishment.  This sensation is so rare for me that it probably did shock damage. 
• I enjoyed my cats and my happy little household I've been blessed enough to have. I slept in a very comfortable bed.

So, January has a couple of more official days left to it.  That's what my calendar is saying anyway. In reality, I'm betting it will feel like weeks before Feb. 1 gets here. I'll do my stuff, haunted as the hours drag, and try to remember how and why this month is taking forever.  I hope February has a normal pace to it and everyone is less sick and crazy. I hope things don't break or, at the very least, break during regular business hours. I hope life is happy and good, that it's a memorable month in nice ways.

I really hope it doesn't last another year. 

The Worlds In My Eyes

My imagination is my favorite place to be.  Yeah, I know that line is hackneyed and often said, but in my case, it's actually true. I love the weird crazy place inside my head.

All of my life, I've had a pretty vivid and active imagination. My brother and I had our own make believe world. I've roleplayed with almost everyone I know, creating not just characters but lands, empires, universes, mythologies, and histories. Of all the things that happen in my life that are half-assed, the stuff that goes on inside my brain never is. I spin stories and I entertain people.  It's what I do, why I'm here.

Everyone has their tools for surviving life. Imagination is how I've managed to cope and stay at least passably sane. Back when I was a kid, I'd pull myself through the rough patches by pretending about a better future.  A time when I was in charge of my own destiny, with no mother or craziness to chaotically ruin things for me.  Not sure that ever happened, but I could usually release enough happy brain chemicals to sooth me through the process.

It's also how I keep from getting really bored. I can always entertain myself with my brain. I tell myself stories and create strange little people to amuse me. I rewrite endings to books, I explore relationships between characters I think have great chemistry, I think way too much about Arthurian legend.

Now, I'm sure there is a lot of unhealthiness to this . . . or so some people would say. They probably believe that being inside one's head so much isn't a good thing. It keeps one from being in the real world and dealing with what is going on around them. There might even be some validity to this.

I don't care though. I like my brain. It IS my favorite place to be.  It always will be until my brain goes way.  Assuming it does go away. I have plans to have my head frozen in a jar.

Das Zaa

Le abstract and poorly drawn pizza.

When I was a little kid, I hated pizza.  I'm not sure what my reasons were for that. I have two basic theories. One is that my mother ordered pizza that was either spiced to hell or she spiced it when she got it to the house.

The other theory is that  it was just too complicated for me to handle . . . too many flavors all competing together. Whatever the case, as a small kid, I was content to eat spaghetti when everyone else was eating their pizza. Well, spaghetti and the garlic bread. I always loved the hot gooey goodness of great garlic bread.  My mom's was amazing, actually.  She made it taste like heaven.

Over time, I got past the aversion to pizza and embraced the concept.  I'm guessing this had to do with the fact that my mom started working at Pizza Hut and I was around it all the time. Actually, my family has quite a legacy with working in pizza places. My mother did for years, as did one step-father, my brother, and my sister-in-law.  In fact, the last time my SIL worked in a pizza place, she was my brother's boss.

I have to admit probably my favorite pizza memories are tied in with my grandmother and frozen pizzas.  It's not that the pizza from the store was good. In fact, it really kind of sucked. The crust tasted like cardboard and all of the meat on it was questionable. The peppers were cut in little square cubes that added so much water to the pizza as they melted that they made it soggy and weird.

Gran had her own little GRAN tricks about it too. Round pizza always ended up on a rectangular baking sheet, so there were lines of burnt down the back.  This is assuming the whole thing wasn't burned. It often was.  If it wasn't burned, it was either slightly underdone or very very VERY crisp. The kind of crisp that cut your tongue and made you worry for your teeth.

Despite all of that, frozen pizza with Gran is still a great memory because it made her so happy. Gran, as I have mentioned before, hated cooking.  Any meal that was easy and basically effortless delighted her.  I think she felt like she was cheating the system somehow.  So every time we had frozen pizza, she was in a great mood.  After all, the most work put into it was hacking through the stiff crust after we pulled it out of the oven.  It really doesn't surprise me that I like my food on the burnt side.

In college, whenever my best friend and I would host parties, our party food consisted of frozen pizzas we would chop into small, bit sized pieces. Yes, that was our finger food. I think we even thought the bit-sized portion made it all fancy.  No one ever complained though. Then again, poor drunken college students will eat anything. I'm shocked we didn't serve bite-sized ramen noodles.

Speaking of college, lux food for us in those days was Domino's.  We'd always get the pepperoni in shroom. After we got some non-meat eating friends, we started getting cheese with jalapenos (even our non-meat eating friends could never commit to leaving off cheese). We'd take the jalapenos off and enjoy the hot cheese with the happy essence of jalapeno juices still in it. This is still a type of pizza I enjoy quite a lot.

Over all though, my favorite pizza is and always will be pepperoni with mushrooms. I don't get it that often these days. The local places don't do it well and if it's not up to standards, it's really not worth eating. Most of the time, I opt for the safer bet of thin crust sausage. Oh, and not sausage with fennel in it. I hate fennel. I miss the pepperoni and shroom, but as I said, if I can't get it good, there really isn't a point.

Hmm. Maybe that's what happened when I was little. Maybe my first tastes of pizza had something objectionable like fennel or bad crust or crappy cheese.  The fennel thing really wouldn't surprise me. I think my mom liked it a lot. She was always kind of twisted like that.

And They Will Find her Dead Body Half- Eaten by Cats

As much as I would love to claim to be this unique snowflake who did everything as unconventionally as she could . . . I know that in some ways, I'm just as stereotypical as I can be.  I'm sure you've noticed quite a few of these . . . don't bother pointing them out, in my moments of self-awareness, I notice them all.

The biggest place where I fit the stereotype is being the single woman with mental problems who has cats.  Yes, cats. Okay, not like fifty or something. I only have three. Well, we used to have four, but then one of them died. Of course, once we moved into our current house, we adopted three more. Two of them are exclusively outside cats. One of them is indoors only half the time.

Okay, dammit. I have six cats.

And yes, I am one of THOSE cat people. I talk to my cats. I sing to them. I make up songs about them. They have nicknames. Not just ONE nickname, levels of many nicknames.  In fact, our cat Salem has been called Fluffy for so long, he doesn't even answer to Salem anymore unless he thinks he's in trouble. I don't make clothes for them, but only because my cats are mean and would rip off my fingers if I tried.  I have to admit though, the concept of Alice being in a dress is kind of awesome.

I'm not one of these people who loves cats and hates dogs though. I love dogs too. In fact, most of my life, the really significant pet in my life was a dog of some sort. They shaped a lot of my childhood.  Dogs really aren't suited for my current life though. They demand a lot of emotional attention. They have to be walked and need to go outside to do their business. Oh, and the barking. Kinda gets on my nerves.

This isn't to say I believe cats are perfect.  Cats play a lot of emotional games with each other and with humans. They puke. They scratch on things. They meow often and loudly.  And there is the litter box.

Despite their flaws, I find the evil little bastards charming.  I love the sound of purring.  I love the feel of their soft fur.  Most often, I have at least one of them sitting on or near me. They do kind of pretend to comfort me when I'm upset.  Cats are great house accessories. They can make even the most trashy of couches look classy.

I also love drawing the cats. Cats are great for quick art projects, because you have to really work fast to capture their pose before they change it.  And believe me, cats DO pose.  Some of them go to great length to look perfect at every moment.  In a lot of my art, you don't see the cat's face. In fact, sometimes, I don't even draw them facing me.  This is because I often draw them as they sleep and they tend to bury their heads or face away from me. I won't read too much into why they do that.

You know, it takes all of my meager self-discipline to keep from turning this into a crazy catlady blog.  Well, self-discipline and a desire not to be mocked. I could though. I have enough stories every day of stuff the cats do and pictures I could take and everything else in the world that could feel blog entry after blog entry.

To be honest. I really don't even have a problem with people doing that. I think if you want to blog about your pets, go for it. Who knows, maybe one day I'll start another blog where that's all I do. I'll join catlady forums and finally start knitting for them and the rest of the world be damned.  Will I be diving head first into the stereotype? Of course.

Of course, as with any stereotype, there will always be more to it as well.

The Me

Hello there and welcome to the Me.  The Me is a strange place, but an entertaining one.  It's snarky, sarcastic, prone to getting by with the help of its friends, and believing Luck is an important concept.

The Me's favorite number is 4.  If given a choice to pick, four (or a multiple of four) will always be the choice.  The Me loves 8 almost as much as 4, as in the mind of The Me, 8 is the daughter of 4. For some reason, however, The Me disapproves of 16.  It may be 4x4, but 16 is, as we all know, very much a rebellious and vexing child who seeks only to cause problems for the four. Oh. Also in the mind of The Me, four is male.

The Me's favorite color is red.  Given a choice of all the candies in box, The Me will always select the red one. If there is a choice of reds, The Me will always choose the most intense red and the swear it has the best and most unique flavor . . . even if all the candies taste the same.

The Me has always resented the concept that blue is for boys and pink is for girls. Fuck that. RED is for girls. Red is rich and deep and wicked and scandalous. Red can't be blackmailed because she quite joyously and brazenly lets everyone know all of her misdeeds. Hmm. Perhaps it does make sense they try to promote pink for girls. Pink is demure to red.  People fear the women who embrace the red.

The Me's favorite letter is L.  Even if The Me's name did not start with L, there is reason to believe L would still be the favored letter.  L has such a contrast in presentation. Sometimes it is a perfectly rigid right angle. When L is cursive though, it loops and makes lovely ovals. It is an elegant and feminine letter.  Well, elegant but dangerous. Lust. Love. Loki. Lore. Combine L with three letters and your whole world can change. Oh.....it goes without saying, perhaps, that a red L is the most scandalous of all.

The Me loves hot cookies.  Hot and almost still uncooked on the inside and burnt on the edges.  The Me loves chocolate cake, bitter pickles, and the scent of lavender. The Me piles her bed high with pillows and sleeps on all of them.  The Me loves the feel of warm blankets and cold pillows . . . all at the same time.

The Me gets panicked and depressed. The Me has mental issues and sometimes despairs.  And yet . . . The Me always knows she is loved, always feels grateful, always gives thanks.  The Me sings songs in her head, made up lyrics to other songs, sometimes strange little tunes of her own. The Me loves minor keys.

Sometimes, The Me dreads the morning, dreads the day, dreads the life. Sometimes, The Me tires of being The Me and wishes to be someone else.  Only for a while though. In the end, The Me truly loves being The Me.

The Me hopes you enjoy being YOUR The Me as well.

Topic Control: DIYWTF?

I need more challenge in my life, so I've decided that Monday posts will now be out of my hands. Monday posts will now be called Topic Control and they will be selected by someone else. It gives me something new to tackle and gives my readers a chance to have at least one day when I don't babble about the usual shit.  If you have a topic you want me to write about, post it in the comments or email me.

My first controlled topic has to do with DIY projects and how they can suck the life out of you.  DIY, of course, stands for Do It Yourself.  Now, for many years, this term didn't exist, because most people, unless they were super rich, more or less HAD to do everything themselves. DIY was just life. However, as times changed and people got more money, better access to products, and things got more complex, we lost touch with doing most things on our own.

I think DIY became a bigger thing because of Home Depot and cable television. No, no . . . I am serious about this. Think about it. Yeah, some people worked on their own projects before HGTV and Trading Spaces, but not in such vast numbers. For many years, the worst you had was some people trying to repaint their house. By the early 2000s, you had have the nation hitting poor innocent pieces of furniture with chains (to "antique" them) and people sponging six crass colors of paint on their walls and calling it a "treatment."

It's one of those things I bet people shudder over when they think about. Yes, the fugly pink and berries wallpaper you had in the living room sucked, but was it really worse than the layers of puce, gold, mauve, ivory, and birch you replaced it with? Don't get me wrong. Some paint treatments probably looked amazing.  Most of them, however, should be put in a box with acid washed jeans, jeggings, and jelly shoes and shot into the sun.

Anyway, even though Paige Davis is no longer our leader, the DIY bug still infects many Americans, and because of it, millions will suffer. Of course, not all DIY projects are bad. Some people finish them and their lives are blissful because of it. However, for many of us, that just isn't the case. Let's look at some of the problems.

• Spending a Mountain to get a Mole Hill.
  
  Sometimes we see something we want. Say, a nice book shelf or a vintage bathtub. We skitter over to it and look at the price, make little squeaking sounds, and decide we can never afford it.  Some people give into the despair of this. Others, because Home Depot and HGTV, decide they will make their own.
  
  Now.....on the Flow Chart of Life.....if you are asking SHOULD I MAKE THIS?......the first question should be DO I HAVE THE SKILLSETS TO DO THIS? If the answer is yes, then proceed. If the answer is no, then stop.
  
  Of course, most of us don't stop. We go buy all the supplies we need. Probably more. If we lack the tools, we'll buy those. We buy other stuff because Home Depot sucks you in like that. We set up a place to do it. We buy gloves and paint  . . .
  
  And suddenly, you realize you may be spending more on building the object of desire than you would have spent on just buying it in the first place. This isn't always the case, but it certainly happens quite often.
  

• The Land of Unfinished Projects.
  
  Once we have our supplies for our DIY thing, we either work on it or we put the supplies some place. Most often, we put the supplies next to all the other supplies for all the other projects we plan to do. The more organizes among us probably label what supplies go to what project.  Then again, these people probably complete the projects anyway.
  
  For the rest of us, the piles of wood and paint and fabric and canvas and lamp pieces and whatever else find a nice life as dust collectors. They get boxed up and shifted around. They move with us. They find new homes in our new homes . . . often at the cost of even having relevance in the new home. They get outdated. They rot. We forget why we bought them in the first place.
  
  Of course, we don't toss them out. We spent good money on them. They're practical things to have around because one day we'll DIY them and they'll become . . . something.
  
  Except, for many of us, they won't. While some people make good on finishing all those projects, the vast majority of them just become stationary reminders of our good intentions but eventual failures.
  
• All Our Ugly Children
  
  The flipside of never finishing your projects is, of course, that you do. This seems well and good and it can be . . . so long as you don't suck.  If you don't suck, then hey, great project!
  
  If you do suck, then you find yourself stuck with some ugly, bent, screwed up piece of DIY hellery.  And yes, you keep it, because you a. spent all that money on the supplies b. spent all that time making it. It's your blood, sweat, and tears . . . and so like any other ugly child, you feel obligated to keep it.
  
  I know this one to be a fact because a lot of the stuff I knit turns out malformed or ugly. I love knitting, but I'm not that great or skilled or talented. I'm also kind of lazy and hate to count and tend to buy the wrong kind of yarn for whatever it is. So my projects end up being misshapen and comical. I have quite a few hats that look like nipples at the top.  Do I still wear them? Hell yes! It's my baby, after all.

Look, I'm all for the independent person. I think it would be great if we could all make our own clothes and build our own chairs. In an ideal world, we'd all have the skills, time, gumption, and money to do this.

It's not an ideal world though.  It's a world full of half-assed Ikea shelves and decorative pillows only a mother could love. If you want to do a project yourself, more power to you.  Assess your skills first. Assess your knowledge base. Figure out how much effort you're willing to put into it.  And . . . see if maybe you can find   an already made one on Craigslist. 

Junk Store Genius

I think in every person, one can find some odd and sometimes almost useless talents.  You know, like you're really good at predicting the number of rocks in a bag of beans or you always know the exact right moment to flick your windshield wipers on so that you clean the window without that nasty horrible sound happening. 

My mom had a talent for picking up really great junk in junk stores. I don't mean she could find great USEFUL things in junk stores. She couldn't find the expensive antiques or the great door fixtures or stunning cabinet fixtures.  Okay, some of the time, she could find this stuff.  But that was rare.  More often, she just found really cool stuff that served nothing beyond a decorative purpose.

She would walk into a junk store and come out with broken brass horns that looked really cool when she hung them.  She'd find odd bits of carnival glass that she'd set in windows to catch light.  She'd pick up baskets with holes in them or rusted bits of pipe and hang them on the wall. None of it served a purpose beyond just being in the room and looking interesting. But it always looked very interesting.

You know how in places like Chili's and Friday's....chain kind of date night places where you can eat and there is a pretense of it being all "hip?"  All that crap they have laying around that looks contrived and cheesy and so artificial it squeaks? My mom could decorate like that, and when she did, it truly looked eclectic and charming.

I totally can't do this. I used to think I could, but over time I realized that my early 20's decorating of cheap candle holders and fake ass Walmart bookshelves just really looked . . . well, white trash as hell.  My tastes in decor have become rather practical and minimalist, probably do to the fact that anything I look at, I judge on how cats will shred it, puke on it, or get hair all over it.  If any of those scores a yes, I don't really want it in the house.

Despite that, I still wish I had my mother's talent for finding great junk. Not so much because I want to fill my house with stuff, but because I remember how thrilled she always was when she found a great piece.  My mother wasn't really all that happy of a person, but on the occasion of excellent junk finds, she was truly delighted. I still remember that smile she would get.

You know, the thing about genuine happiness is that is causes its own unique smiles. We smile a certain way when we think of someone we love.  We smile a certain way at memories, our eyes light up at the moment of certain victories or unexpected surprises. I'm sure the smile I have right now, thinking about how happy finding this stuff made her, looks like no other type of smile I get.

When I think about Mom, sometimes I get really upset because it's difficult to put positive spins on her life. There were so many bad moments, so much pain and hurt.  Junk stores though, and the finds therein, those are positive memories.  I'll always love junk stores for that reason.

My Obsession with Candy Warp

As I have mentioned before, I have this kind of guilty pleasure thing with watching Gossip Girl.  Actually, it's not a "kind of." I fucking love the show. Even though I disdained it for years, once it started streaming on Netflix, I became obsessed. I'm not going to say it's the best show ever . . . it's not. Serena, Nate, Dan, and Vanessa bore me to no end. I do, however, completely adore Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass.  Their love/hate/love war is entertaining as hell.

I have to admit though, this isn't the only Candy Warp show I like. What is Candy Warp? Well, in my head, that's what "CW" actually stands for. I know that isn't the reality, but....well, it's not the official statement. It technically is the reality. Every show on there is made of candy that's been warped to all hell.  Welcome to Candy Warp. Prepare to be equally obsessed, annoyed, delighted and ashamed.

The thing about CW shows is that even though they start off sketchy and eventually get really bad, I still watch them. I watched all 16 thousand seasons of Smallville, to the very last, bitter end of what the fuck it became.  Did I watch it for that whinging, wibbling Clark Kent? No. He annoyed me. I watched it for Lex and Chloe. After Lex died, I watched it for Chloe and started to love Tess. Eventually, I just kept watching despite all reason and logic.  Because that's what happens when you're candywarped.

Supernatural is the same way. Supnat has had seasons of greatness.  Lately? It's had seasons where I'm quite sure they're letting a monkey just womp its ass against a keyboard and whatever that produces becomes the plot. And yes . . . despite the fact that I will leave other shows, I will still keep watching Supernatural because . . . god, I have no idea. I just will.

You'd think I'd learn from this, but I won't.  Secret Circle(Jerk) is a pretty clunky show with plot holes so big you could fly space cruisers through them. I know the show is bad. And yet, today I found myself amusingly making up couples names for the characters.  Faye and Lee nicely and properly becomes Lay. Cassie and Jake become Cake. Adam and Diana become Diam. Oh, and it has Brian Kenny Only Straight on it.  That god I get to look at him again.

Oh, OHHH. And if that wasn't bad enough, when I finish Gossip Girl, you know what I plan to stream next? Vampire Diaries. My mind will receive more candywarping and I will never recover. Never ever.

Cake is a damned great name though.

Pigs in Space

Tonight on Project:Runway All Stars, the guest judge and client of the sewtestants was Miss Piggy.  Some of the dresses were lovely, some sucked. Miss Piggy was funny and the person I wanted to win, didn't. The person I wanted to be sent home, wasn't. All of this was common though, other than the Piggy angle. And it was the Piggy angle that struck me the most.

You see, people talked about this muppet like she was a real person.  They weren't faking it either. They seemed really, honestly thrilled to be making dresses for Miss Piggy.....who has been a major influence on their lives.....and happens to be one of their idols.

I want you to understand, I'm not judging them here.  I feel the same way. I've always adored Miss Piggy.  She was vain and full of herself and driven and funny as hell. Traits than in other people would be annoying somehow work for her, mostly because, of course, she is a character created from many people who probably acted a lot like her, but with less charm. I guess it goes without saying that in my head, I see her as a real person too. Rationally, I know she's a muppet. I guess I really don't care if she is.

This is a fact of our culture. Try as we might, rational as we want to be, many of us, perhaps all of us, have a blending of the real and fictional that comprises our perceptions.  They marry inside of us to create reality as we see it.  We may not like to admit it, but for many of us, it's very much there.

For instance, there are a lot of people who live their lives by the Jedi code. And I'm not talking about cosplayers of even people who others would consider "geeky." I'm talking about otherwise ordinary people who probably don't even think about how much these ideas influence their choices.  Some people would list only fictional characters as their heroes, people who dedicate more waking moments to theories about these characters. It shapes a large part of what makes their lives happy places.

Is this a problem?

I know a lot of people would say it is. However, I think, if those people are being honest, most of their objections stem from their desire to replace other people's perceptions of reality with their own. Hence the WBC's anger at people who go to comic book conventions.

Do I personally think it is a problem.

Well, no. However, and this is a big however, I think it CAN become a problem when we stop facing the fact that as fun as our own created realities are, there is an actual reality going on. Bills still have to be paid. Babies still have to be fed, that kind of thing. Otherwise, go for it. Make reality whatever you want.

Malfunction Junction, WTF?

Do earbuds give you callouses? I have strange little bumps on the inside of my ears now. They don't hurt, but they weren't there before. I keep my earbuds in a lot, hence, the wondering about callouses.

Anyway, this week is not being so great. My body is going through various malfunctions and I can't get Facebook to work for shit.  I keep trying to make it happen, but it won't. So if you're trying poke me or send me messages, sorry. Nothing will load.  I'll get back to you when I can.

What else? Oh yeah, so I've been trying to see if I could get Sims 3 to function better. I stripped all the custom content off of it and tried a new family. Nope. It still fucked up.  *sigh* I'm really tired of it not working. With the level of computer that I have, there is no reason for it not to be working . . . other than the fact that something in it just fundamentally sucks.

Anyway, tomorrow is the big SOPA protest. Lots of websites will be blacking out to show people what it will be like if we let the government and corporations run the internet. I won't be posting because I feel that my posts are the kind of thing they would stop. I criticize the government. I talk about shows when they suck. You know, that whole thing about giving opinions and whatnot.  They don't like that.

So, I guess I'll see you Thursday. If you read this and want something to do instead, write your congress people and tell them not to vote for PIPA and SOPA.  Trust me, we won't like the world if it passes.

Monday TV Watching Blah Blahs

My brain has been so random today. I'm having massive trouble focusing. I started watching a new show and it was all I could do to pay attention to it. My meds do this to me and it can get really rough and intense.  Everything gets loud and jittery or maybe just I get jittery. I'm never really sure.

I hate it when I get this way. I write lousy posts. I have trouble talking to people. I have trouble being me.  I know it never lasts, but during the moments when it's going on, it's hellish.

Today it was like in the 70s or something, which is just insane for this time of the year. I think I mentioned that yesterday. I'm so starting to repeat myself in posts.  But hey, can't be helped. 300+ posts in, what do you expect? Yes, I know I've repeated that before as well.  I keep turning the fan off and on to see if can cool me down. Mostly, it's just annoying me. If things are this warm tomorrow, I'm switching to shorts.

Anyway, Alcatraz started tonight.  It's the latest J.J. Abrams show.  In fact, it's enough like Fringe that it even has the same music. It's like Lost in that . . . well, it involves an island, mystery, and has Jorge Garcia.  On the positive side, it has a solid premise. Some prisoners and guards disappeared from Alcatraz back in 1963  instead of being moved . . . and now they're returning and no time has passed for them. A task force has been set up to track them down and bring them back to prison.

My roommate expressed concerns that it might turn into Freak of the Week.  He has a very valid point. In fact, the show basically sets itself up for that. The problem with FotW is that unless you are making your freaks really interesting, people stop caring.  You have to continue to build other things along with that. On the other hand, it seems like certain people who have the initials JJA have a problem with starting out strong and then kind of losing ideas about what to do next and just turn everything into some big ass quagmire of a conspiracy. A certain JJA should try and avoid that this time.

We've been having some talks about the shows we watch lately and are considering culling some of them from our list of viewing. In some cases, they are shows that started out as awesome but have been on for too long, or at least, have been on so long people forgot how to write them with good plots. I'm looking at you, House and Supernatural.  In other cases, the shows have no reason to suck, but due to poor casting choices, have started to be boring. Yes, Amazing Race, I mean you.

There are also some newer shows that I think we'll stop sooner than later. I'm kind of more into Secret Circle than my roommate, even though I do realize that the show is pretty awful.  Unforgettable needs to pick itself up, because there are plenty of other shows that can be watched at that time.

We've actually dropped some shows already this year.  Even though we both loved CSI since the first season, we recently gave up on it. They keep adding used-to-be-famous people to it instead of concentrating on the characters they had left.  There was no reason for that. It's like having a piece of pie and covering it in a cheap chocolate sauce instead of enjoying the pie you have.

And you know what? I don't miss it.  Every time I see ads for it, I just get annoyed. That tells me a lot, really. I mean, I still miss Firefly. I do not miss CSI. Hmm. Rhymes!

A Poem: The TV Junkie's Remorse

Oh, how I miss the Firefly!

It's life so quickly passed us by.

When I hear the theme song

I kind of cry.

With a shiny tear in each my eye.

But I do not miss the CSI.

This pains me some,I cannot lie.

It showed me how people in Los Vegas

Happened to die.

And all the science that showed them why.

Maybe I should do another bad poetry contest . . .

Sunday Discussions

It's supposed to get unseasonably warm this week. Usually January gives us frigid temps. Tomorrow, we may be in the 70s. Oh, and it's also windy and stormy, so there is a possibility for tornadoes. I'd really rather that didn't happen.

You know, the day after I did this post last week, I knocked the tip off my toe when I stubbed it against the door. It was only the opposite side of the finger I snapped the mouse trap on, meaning I had a nice diagonal line of malfunction going on. Nice.

I'm really hoping this week goes well for everyone. I think we, collectively, as like a living group, need a good week. It would be really really great. I also hope I try to get back to my goals of not reading the comments on things I know will piss me off and avoiding any type of news media.  It makes life more simple.

I guess it's safe to say my brain is still agitation mode. I'm not sure how long this will last. Hopefully, not a lot longer. Anyway, that's all for now. Here's wishing for a good week.

You're So Predictable, It's Bingo.

As the war on how annoyed women are with our portrayal in comics/other media continues, the people girl-wonder.org came up with a nifty little bingo card so you can play along as you hear all the usual bullshit reactions to our objections to objectification. It's fun. Here's the card.

I know I've said this before, but I will say it again. If you as a creator/artist/writer/publisher/producer of entertainment type things don't want to make your product appealing to women for what you consider to be "them there boring feminist reasons," allow me to present to you another argument.

Women make up a large portion of the people with money. Less and less of us are getting married and having kids, which means more of us have fun, disposable money on which to buy things that entertain us. If you want your industry, you know, maybe even your ZOMG dying industry to survive, it might be a good idea to appeal to us.

This doesn't mean make things pink and purple and cover them in glitter.  This doesn't mean simplify story lines or dumb stuff down. We--the ones with the money and disposable income and stuff--are perfectly capable of handling sophisticated plot lines. It's cool.

However, it would be nice if you didn't make all of your female characters look like strippers with no rib cages, give them boobs bigger than their heads, and make them exist basically just as support for the male character story lines. You know, all the stuff you tend to do.  Give them some clothes, make them look like they can really function with that anatomy, write good stuff for them, and you'll get lots of happy female readers.

And you know what?  I really don't think that you'll lose male readers over this. I think, if you write everything well and keep the story interesting, the males will be perfectly content. They probably won't even notice.   After all, given that our culture is extremely saturated with overly sexualized female characters, DO the males really notice it anymore? Does it turn them on at all? It's not special at all. It's just common and mainstream for them.

So . . . to recap, if you are less sexist with your product, more women will buy it. If your product is awesome even without sexism, the men will still buy it.  You do this and boom, the industry isn't dying anymore. And the villagers rejoice.

Ten Questions and Answers

I decided to be lazy and just answer questions tonight instead of thinking up my own topics. Deal.

1. What do you have on your bedside table? My bedside "table" is actually a desk.  On it is my makeup case, a lamp, my CPAP, and usually a water bottle. The desk itself has two drawers, one holds medical supplies for the CPAP, one holds near and dear things to me, like old birthday cards and stuff, and one holds my various knitted gloves and hats.

In the place where the chair would go for a normal person, I have a utility cart on wheels. The top shelf is kind of a catch-all for whatever. It usually has my glasses, hair brush, chap sticks, and other things. The next two shelves store things I want near me but don't need all the time like other medical supplies, nail polishes, and of course, the collection of hair accessories.

2. Do you have an tattoo? I have a flower on the back of my hand on the area between my index finger and my thumb. I adore it.

3. If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I wouldn't change my name so much as add to it. I would expand the basic "Lilly" out to "Lillith" because I think the concept of all that is Lillith suits me better. However, overall, I'm quite pleased with my name.

4. Do you believe in abstinence prior to marriage? I don't believe in marriage.  I mean, I realize it exists, but I think it's an outmoded concept that just sucks the life out of people and makes them miserable. And if you are starting to protest in your head that YOUR marriage isn't that way, whatever. Talk to me in ten years and see if you look at that differently, otherwise, consider yourself the very minor exception to the rule.

For me personally, as I would never marry and have had sex, clearly I don't believe in waiting for marriage for it.  And, actually, when I lost my virginity, I made sure it was with someone I didn't know and I would never see again. I didn't tell him I was a virgin and I didn't let him know afterwards.  That way, the experience was completely about me and not about any bullshit male gain he could have gotten from it.

5. What is your worst habit? I would say all of my bad habits are probably equally bad. However, in terms of general destruction and discomfort, I think the one that causes me the most pain is the fact that I will nervously peel the skin off my lower lip. I don't just bite it, I'll worry the skin until it come loose and then I'll rip it off.....and make my lip bleed.  I'm trying to stop this, but I've been trying for years.

6. What is your biggest pet peeve?  Sometimes when cats run, they have this thing where they will extend their claws out. I guess it's for traction or something? Anyway, it makes the most annoying sound and as much as I love cats, that sound drives me bonkers. I hates it forever.

7. What is your biggest guilty pleasure? I would have to say my biggest guilty pleasure is Gossip Girl. I started watching it a few months ago and totally love it. It's kind of like the flagship of CW shows . . . you know, kind of soap opera-y and vapid . . . but it doesn't pretend to be anything BUT that. In another life, I want to be Blair Waldorf.

8. Are you worried about anything right now? I can only choose one thing?  I'm worried about tons of things right now.  However, if I take this out of the realm of stuff about me, I'm mostly concerned for my aunt who will be having knee replacement surgery in the next few months. I really hope it goes well and that she sees improvement in her life because of it.

9. What is an important political issue at the moment? I think the most important issue on my mind at the moment is SOPA and PIPA not passing.  Not only will these two bills fundamentally change the way the internet works and how we interact with it, it will also change a lot of things about my life. I feel so strongly about this issue that I plan to boycott any organization that supported it, which means I won't be going to movies any more and, unless EA games backs off of its support, I'll never play Sims again.

10. What was the funnest thing about your day? Laughing with my friends, cuddling with the cats, taking a really long nap, and watching fuzzy birds be cute an d fuzzy.

A Question of Sacrifices

Tonight, I got into a fight with someone I know. Maybe "fight" is a bad word. Argument. Disagreement. Difference of opinion. The thing is, it was about her lack of self-esteem. She made the comment that she would give up 25% of her intelligence if she could be 25% better looking.  I thought this was insane but she countered that most women feel this way.  She told me I knew she was right.

The thing is, it certainly is not true for me.

Yes, me. The person who weighs over 500 lbs. The person who has all of these issues. The person who is going gray, not only in her hair, but also in her eyebrows.  Me. That person. I would NEVER do this.

And you may think I'm lying, but I'm not.

Maybe it's because I'm almost forty now and I have a better perspective on it.  I know that beautiful people are no happier than anyone else.  They may not have the same issues as the less-attractive, but they gain other problems, like being objectified and defined just by their looks.  They acquire stalkers and people who just pretend to be their friends. People expect them to act a certain way, to have a certain personality. When they don't live up to these expectations, the people become angry.

I also know that it wouldn't have made someone love me. It may have made people pay more attention to me, but not love. I've got people who love the hell out of me even without being perfect looking. Does it mean I didn't get some of the boys I could have if I'd been prettier? Yeah. But I know these boys now that they're adults and I've seen how they treated their prettier lovers. It wasn't nice. Not at all.

I think the main issue though is that I'd be totally loathe to give up my intelligence.  My wit is actually the main thing I have going for me. Losing some of it to gain some marginal beauty wouldn't be worth it all. I like being the smart ass who says the funny thing. I like being the able to entertain myself and others with stories and general bullshit. It's certainly more fun than just being prettier.

Look, I'm not saying there is anything wrong with being beautiful.  I just don't think it makes life easier on you. But trading away your smarts? That's bound to make life more difficult.

Now.....would I give up 25% of the attractiveness to be 25% more intelligent than I am now? Oh fuck yes. And it's not just because I'd be smarter.  While that is an awesome side benefit, I'm also snide enough to relish the idea of being less attractive and seeing how people reacted to me THEN.

Is there anything I would give up 25% of my intelligence for? Hmmm......not 25% more money....because 25% more money than what I have now still wouldn't be shit. Maybe 25% more successful.....wait, no, the baseline is still way too low.  I guess not.  It would have to be way higher. Like "I'd give up 10% of my intelligence to be 50% more wealthy."

I actually considered maybe giving up intelligence to be more manipulative and persuasive, but I have such a moral objection to stupid people swaying others to do their bidding that I just never could accept that one.   If I was just a little more evil, I might be able to. So I guess I'd have to make it "manipulative and evil."

Hmm. Wait, I got it. I give up 25% of my attractiveness to gain 25% more intelligence.  THEN I trade 25% of my intelligence to be 25% more manipulative and evil. I'm less attractive than ever, but just as smart, and more persuasive.

All I would have to do is find a nice country to conquer . . .

A Simple Prop to Occupy your Childhood

I think most of my life, there has been conflict about toys for children.  Some people hate gendered toys. Some people hate toys that promote violence or ones that promote traditional roles or ones that don't or all of the above depending on your stance in life.  The point is, it's always adults (or groups of adults) getting all hot and bothered about the toys.

I get it. It's a triggered topic. It's really really easy to get emotional about it. Sometimes I even find myself falling into that trap.  However, I stop as soon as I realize it because it's fundamentally pointless. And that really has to do with the nature of play.

Kids are going to play how they want to.  You may give a little girl a billion baby dolls and she may play mommy with them.....or she may play CEO with them. It just depends on what she's interested in doing. My baby dolls always went on adventures.

By the same token, you may give another little girl a pile of rocks and if she's really into the nurturing stuff, she'll make them all babies. If she's really into fashion, she'll make focus on the designs or colors of the rocks. If she's into drama, they'll be the Real Rock Wives of the Yardville or something.

Toys are props.  They're just the trappings children (and adults) use to fuel their imagination. The toy isn't as important as the pretending. As for what the kid is pretending, that's all very dependent on the child.

Toys serve another purpose as well. For kids who have rather frightening or chaotic childhoods, toys can be a very nice form of cheap and effective therapy. Anything soft and cuddly can serve as a protector, something to hug and hold onto in the night. Other kids will create their own order by organizing toys and placing them in rows and columns. They'll build structures that are secure and safe. They'll make forts.

My best therapy came from Barbies. When I was really stressed out, I would braid Barbie's hair. I would make the smallest and tightest braids I could. I would do as many as I could, always making sure they could divide by three because once I was finished with the braids, I would braid those together, and then braid those together, until finally I had one massive braid composed of many layers of braiding.

I wouldn't think about my life while I was doing this. No matter what horrible step-father shit was happening or crazy mama shit was happening . . . all of this was far from my mind as I braided and braided and braided. My mind shut down beyond just moving my fingers, feeling the sensation of moving the strange artificial hair back and forth, making sure each segment of the braid was even and perfect. Nothing else mattered. The world narrowed to just that action.

By the time I was finished, I was calm again. Maybe not for a long time, but at least until the craziness started up again. I was calm and Barbie's hair looked great. Life, in a small, minute way, had gained some level of order.

So next time you're watching one of these things where people are complaining about toys, before you get emotional or worried or up in arms, remember the nature of children.  Remember the various needs of children.  Stop trying to push your agendas on them and think about what their agenda is. Toys are important to children.

Sometimes, toys get children through childhood.

Change in Routine Annoyances

As part of my process in becoming somewhat of a responsible adult, I've made this habit if paying my bills at the beginning of the month. It can sometimes be a hassle depending on how the days run and when the mail gets there, however, in the end, I love the feeling of knowing that my bills paid and I don't have to worry about them for a while.

Of course, then the gas bill had to go and fuck it all up.

The gas bill used to be due somewhere around the 11th.  Over time, however, it's edged its way down the calendar, sometimes being due as early as the 6th.  They also have this rule that you have to pay the bill two days before it's due or it will be late. That makes absolutely no sense. If it's considered late if it's not paid by the 4th, just fucking say it's DUE ON THE 4TH!  Don't say it's due on the 6th. Clearly, they're just trying to get people to screw up. Bastards.

Anyway, my roommate and I have ran close to the bill being late several times. And, as I said, we're trying in our own little way to be responsible adults now, and don't want that to happen. So we've shifted the paying of the gas bill to the day after it shows up in the mail.

You know, this was the practical thing to do. It saves us a lot of hassle and worry.   I get that.  I also know it's really not that big of a change. It's really not that big of a deal.

But it really pisses me off.

Rationally, I know it shouldn't. Like I said, practical blah blah, not such a thing blah blah . . . but then again, I also know that the reason this happened is because the company keeps squeezing the dates of when things are due. They keep giving less leeway, less breathing room, less moments to really screw anything up. For people like us, who now make it a habit to get things done on time and stay on top of dates and stuff, it's just a minor annoyance.

Most of all though, it's because this breaks the emotional reaction to my routine.  My almost full month of not having to deal with or think about bills now has a gas bill disruption. The happy little reward I had for taking care of the business at the first of the month is gone.

It's not really a true, deeply felt hatred over the change.....just a eyes-narrowing, grumbling, and cussing kind of thing. I'll get over it, but only until the bill shows up. Thank you gas company. Fucker.

The BHB Blog is a Year Old: Let Us Have Shock and Awe

So in the midst of all the bullshit and malfunction of the last several days, I missed something that is actually kind of a landmark for me. My blog turned a year old.

That's right, folks. I have actually been doing this for a solid year now. I didn't just quit after two months or two weeks or when I found some excuse to do not do it for a couple of days. I really kept going. Really. I'm fucking shocked as hell. I'm also happy and overjoyed. Honestly, there are like a million emotions going on right now. My lip is trembling. I think I'm even crying a little.

The thing is, I'm not GOOD at commitments. I'm really random and only obsessive in a fickle kind of way. For me to do something, consistently, for a year is almost unheard of. And I didn't do this in a half-assed kind of only post every once in a while kind of way. Out of 365 days, I have like 328 posts. So yes, I missed some days, but the vast majority of them, there is a blog entry.

So how did I do it?  See, this isn't only a big question for me (being fickle and lazy), it's a good question for a lot of people who start blogs but don't continue them. I'm totally not trying to be smug here.  Like I said, I'm in shock it's still going. Let's look at why.

I GIVE MYSELF THE FREEDOM TO BLOG ABOUT ANYTHING

I know that a lot of people have really strict guidelines about what their blog will be. I tried that at first, but soon discovered it wasn't going to work for me. I know some people who do niche blogs, and honestly, I think it helps if you have several people working on them with you. That way you never get really overwhelmed by the restrictive nature of it.

If you feel the need to do a niche blog, give yourself an Anything blog as well. That way you can make sure you write quite often without having to struggle for ways to fit what you really want to blog about into your niche.

I WRITE THE BLOG WHEN I DON'T HAVE OTHER DISTRACTIONS.

My blog usually gets written somewhere between midnight and two in the morning. The TV is off, everyone is in bed, most of my friends are offline, and I'm winding down from the day.  During this time, I can focus the majority of my attention on my writing. I don't have to worry about crisis situations or my attention wavering to something else.

The thing is, I know for a lot of people, this is probably the most difficult thing to try and find. Our lives are full of interruptions and chaos and all manner of loudness. How people with children blog is beyond me.  They must roofie the kids while they write.

I DON'T STRESS OVER MAKING THE BLOG PERFECT

Obviously. No, really, I don't. If there is one thing I learned from doing NaNoWriMo, it's that we limit our creativity by stressing perfection while we write. Will I correct spelling errors and typos? Yeah, the ones I catch.  Will I go over things to make sure I'm not repeating myself over and over again? Okay, sometimes, but only after I've written the post.

I don't edit as I go because I know I'd get frustrated and stop. I'm far more interested in developing my writing voice again.  Grammar and spelling Nazis have their place, but they can also suck the soul out of people's potential work.


I DON'T STRESS OVER MAKING EVERY POST BRILLIANT

Look, I'm not going to be falsely modest here. I know I've written some killer posts. I also know I've written some rambling indulgently mind numbing posts as well. I'm okay with that. I know that writing 300 of anything won't be epic every single time.  Not for me, at least.

As I said before, the point isn't that it's perfect. The point is that it happens.  I write. I keep writing. I express what's going on in my head or in my heart or around me. Whatever that happens to amount to, awesome.

And this isn't one of those "you get a gold star just for trying" things.  Actually, maybe it is. But you know what? I hate it when people bitch about that teaching method. There is something to be said for people who work on something continuously until they master it.

When I finally start blocking this thing out into various books, yeah, I'll discard the boring stuff where I just whine and keep the great bits.  And you know what? There WILL BE a lot of great bits.

If I'd tried to focus on just making it wonderful all the time, I'd probably freak out and stop writing. Then there would be no bits, great or otherwise.

Anyway, there are some tips on how I made it this far.  Again, wow.  A year of blogging. This is wonderful. I'm really proud of myself and so grateful to the two or three of you who read this. Thank you so much.  Love you all.

Sunday Discussions and Malfunctions

My weekend has been a study in malfunction. My computer did some malfunctioning. My body did some malfunctioning. My brain tends to kind of stay in malfunctioning. Yeah, anyway, so that's why there was no post last night.

I think I sat here in front of the blog for about two hours writing things and deleting them.  Some things should be discussed. Sometimes, it's best just to stay silent.  It's not so much a matter of repressing yourself as being so overwhelmed that you don't even know how to begin.  That's about where I was.  It's not a nice place, trust me.

I'm better today, but not 100%.  Hell, come to think of it, it's probably been a long time (if ever) since I was 100%. If ever, on a stability plane, I've been at best maybe like a 75%.  The rest of the time, I'm fairly detached and just letting my mind wonder some place else.

Anyway, my wish is that this weekend and its various malfunctions are over and I can get back to having a semi-typical existence, you know, for ME.  It would certainly be nice, as I'm rather tired of days like the ones I've had of late.  I don't think that is asking too much. It's not like I'm asking for Jason Momoa to show up and be in love with me. I just want some days where I'm not in too much pain or too stressed out to function.

With any luck, maybe I can go back to real blog posts and not just babbling paragraphs about my malfunctioning life.

The First Friday

Today was really difficult on me physically. Most of the day was rough as hell and I'm just now feeling human again.  Damned body's need to purge. It was really horrible and it basically dictated how my day would be. I hate that.

Oh a positive note, one of my friends is doing a really cool thing with his blog right now.  He's been blogging for a year and decided to start a new project with it when the year changed.  I think it's a good change. Check it out!

Now I'm trying to research some stuff and everything is being difficult.  Stupid computer isn't telling me what I want to know! Wow, so much bitchery tonight.  But like I said, I'm not really feeling all that human.

This is the first Friday in 2012.  I'm still panicking about the year. I think a lot of people are.  I think it's overwhelming everyone and people are just bracing themselves for whatever hell is coming our way.  Honestly, that's not a good way to live.

I guess you can tell this hasn't been the best week of my life. It certainly hasn't been the worst either.  Maybe it's just been exhausting. All of the anticipation and fear over the unknown has just left me tired.

I probably need sleep.

Thursday Randoms

For anyone who is interested, the tip of my thumb is healing. Yay. Hopefully the blackish purple will soon fade. It's Jan. 6 and I have the fan on.  This does not bode well for the rest of the year. Of course my feet are still buried under a blanket.

I'm casually playing Sims again.  I'm doing the Neglected Child challenge. Basically, you give the kid a toy oven and a bed.  You see to the adult's needs but let the kid fend for itself.  If it survives to adulthood, you give it a great life. Not sure that will happen. I named the girl Lina Squatch.

Still having the paranoia, but I'm trying to regulate my meds, so maybe I can stop that. It takes a while though. Usually about a month. Honestly, it will be nice to be back in "I don't give a fuck" meds bliss. I miss that.

There's been a lot of violence around the area. People my SIL and her friends know have been involved in spousal murders. Another person I'm close to lost her grandfather.   She's my age so she had him for a very long time.  It's very hard to lose someone when they've been such a large part in defining your life.

My roommate and I attempted to make fudge. The taste is nice.....the consistency is about the same as thick cake frosting. We have plans to fix it for next time. I'm proud of us for at least trying though. Sweet things have gotten so expensive that if we can make more homemade things, we'll save a lot of money. At least, that's the theory.

Iowa did their primaries and things went about as expected.  I'm so disenchanted with politics that I'm planning on just mocking it from now on. What other choices do we have?  You know, until they take our right to mock away.

In Bloom

Remember that shitastic summer I had? The one with like a gazillion days over 100 degrees?  If you don't remember it, I certainly do. That fucker is still screwing with my life.

For one thing, the heat screwed up my glasses. Both sets have the lenses semipopping out of frames. I'm just hoping they stay in long enough for it to get stupid hot again so I can snap them back into place.

Summer also jacked up the electric average.  Mind you, not as high as I was afraid it would, but still more than I wanted by a long shot. The problem is, we tried as hard as we could to keep the AC usage down to a minimum. On days like the ones we experienced this summer, that just wasn't possible.  This wasn't "let's chill down the house and sit under blankets" summer. This was "Yeah, turn on the AC so the cats don't die" summer.

The worst part though, the absolute worst part of all, is that summer probably killed my Juanita Rose.

Juanita Rose isn't like the technical name of the flower. My grandmother's best friend was Juanita and she gave Gran a cutting of the rose bush from her yard when Gran admired it one day. So Gran always called it "the Juanita Rose" and it stuck.  I love this rose bush so much.

For one thing, and you can't tell from the picture, the color is the only shade of orange that I actually like. It looks pink in the shadows, but it's more this kind of pinkish orangeish yellowish color. Somehow, that ended up being beautiful.

The beauty was nothing compared to the scent of them. I love rose scent anyway, but Juanita blooms were the best.  Gran would always bring in the first couple of roses and the scent would fill the house. It was the best part of Spring.  I also loved the way the petals felt against my fingers.  Insanely soft, so delicate.  These roses were a delight.

No matter how hot it got this summer, we made sure the plants were watered.  That rose was given as much as we thought it could handle without drowning.  We tried. We really did. It's not looking good though. I know I have a while before we know for sure, but it's killing me. I mean, I'm literally crying as I type this.

The Juanita Rose was one of the best connections I had with my grandmother.  Even after I moved out, she would always call me as soon as she spotted the first blooms. It's such a simple thing, but knowing that rose was in bloom always made me happy.

When Gran died and we moved into the house, it was Spring. It rained for almost a solid month after she was gone, in fact, it started at her funeral and didn't stop until well after we'd moved in. A few days after we'd been here, I walked out onto the porch and saw a couple of roses from the Juanita waiting for me, like Gran's ghost cut them and brought them to where I would notice. Practically, rationally, I can pass it off as the wind.

In this case though, deep down I know I don't accept the rational.

So yeah, I hope my rose comes back.  I'll be really sad if it doesn't. It's like losing another part of my grandmother . . . and another part of my childhood.

Back In the Scareds.....Dammit

I've been suffering from an almost crippling paranoia for a few days now. I'll be damned but I've somehow managed to become AFRAID of the 2012.

Paranoia is always strange.  I mean, when you're aware that it's happening, you can process it (somewhat) and kind of accept that things aren't the reality you're perceiving them to be. However, your mind still wanders into the Bad Places and you have to deal with them. It's kind of like sitting on a 16 hour bus ride with a prophet of doom right next to you.  Oh, and they're in the aisle seat so you can't just get up and leave.

What is making me paranoid? Why, every little thing.  I'm scared of things in the house breaking. I'm scared of the HOUSE breaking. I'm scared of the car messing up. I'm scared of running out of money, of losing chances to get money, I'm scared my friends are mad at me, that my life will get no better (not that it's bad, to be honest), than hoards of evil men will be mean to me, that everyone will stop loving me. . . you get the idea.

You might tell me that everyone feels this way about things sometimes. I know this.  You might then think I'm blowing this out of proportion.  I'm not though because where sane people's thoughts will end in a kind of vague "gee, that would be bad and I hope it doesn't happen," when my paranoia is acting up, it's never that simple.

I know you want an example. Here it is.

The other day, the cat found a mouse.  My roommate suspected more were around and we set a trap (hence the trap snapping on my finger situ). That was Sunday, which means I had a whole night to let the paranoia build.  See, my mind fixated on one certain thing we'd discussed about where all the mice were coming from. My roommate said something like, "Well, they're probably field mice who had to come into the towns to get water. It got so dry this summer, they really had no choice."

A simple statement.  This is what my mind did with it.

When we came back from grocery shopping on Monday morning, I literally had to force myself to get out of the van and walk into the house. Force myself.  I had to think "WALK DAMN YOU" to every step, EVERY SINGLE STEP . . . because I was convinced the house would be full of mice.

You know, like those horrible mice plagues they have in Australia? The ones where the mice are like this sea of ick that eats and destroys everything in sight?

Yes, oh yes, that is what my mind was telling me was in store for me when I walked inside. And even though I KNEW it couldn't be the case (probably), that paranoia just kept eating away at me.  By the time I went inside, I was almost in tears. My heart was racing, and not for the usual reasons.  It was hell.

And of course, there were no damned mice to be found. Stupid paranoia fucking bullshit.

Well, no mice until today when my roommate caught one in his trap.  I wonder what my crazy brain will come up with from that.

Jack and Cock

The other night, I was talking to someone about drinks.  He mentioned that he loved Jack Daniels but still always wanted it with his soda. And I replied, "Oh, so you like jack and cock."  You don't even want to know where the conversation went past that.

I'm a bad speller.  It's because I don't see words spelled out in my head. Words look like colors or faces or gerbils or whatever I associate with them. Spelling is completely a combination of memory, luck, and built in spelling programs for me.  And of the three, luck is probably the thing that gets me by the best.

But there are some words that I know how to spell but my fingers just refuse to type properly. If I'm paying attention, I can correct myself.  If not .  . . jack and cock.

So, I'm going to type a paragraph now and just let my fingers do what they will. You'll see how horrible this can get, how some words just get twisted up beyond all hope.

The thing is, I never really learned to yype the formal way. I took a class, but it was just during the summer and I had other distarations. I also didn't have a compuer or even a tupewriter at home, so it wasn't like I could praotic. The typing isn't that godo. I get ti. In fact, the very level of it not beking as bad as I thought it would be is konof of asoutnding. 

Actually, that's quite a bit worse than I thought it would be.  I could have never been one of those women who sat in her prim dress at the office typing away as some jackass swilled jack and cock while I did all his work.

I realize I put jack and cock again. In this case, both might be true.

2012 WTF

Today was full of suck and fury.  I walked into the kitchen to be told our trashcan is missing.  I sat there baffled over how that was even possible, but agreed to ride along    to the nearby larger town to pick another one up. We'd also check out the open box sale at Best Buy and get Chinese food.

As we were on our way out the door, my roommate spots the trashcan. We still decide to do the other stuff, which proves to be a bust because Best Buy's "great deal" wasn't and Chinese was closed for the day.

I also managed to snap a mouse trap on the tip of my thumb. I have a cut and really nasty bruise now. Yay! Fucking mice! I hate those things so much. Now you're injuring me in my attempts to kill you!

On the bright side, I managed to eat my black eyed peas. I talked to my friends, snuzzled my cats, worked on art, listened to music, and blogged.  I think I covered the important stuff so I should be good for the year.  Hopefully without a string of weird mice-related injuries.

A lot of people believe the world will end this year.  I'm not really one of them, but if it does, I'm cool with that.  I kind of view the End of the World as something so beyond my control that I have no reason to get emotional about it.

Last night was fun though. I ended up going to Glitch parties and having a lot of fun. YES, I'm that level of geek. What of it?

Hello, 2012! Try not to be a bastard to me, k?