Another Trip Through My Brain

Again, I must ask that you please leave your feet and hands inside the brain at all times. No, you can not have a drink of water and please don't mix the memories, I think they're finally in the right order.



Random thoughts... I have them and I have them often. I believe I suffer from adult onset ADD (which I may have mentione) NOT ADHD...cuz the only thing hyper about me is my thoughts. I also suffer from OCD...Oh...huge...about stupid stuff and I know it's stupid but I do it anyway.



1) I have this blanket with a big old grizzly bear (or, maybe it's a brown bear or a kodiak...not sure...it's just REALLY big...) on it and when I sleep with it, the bear's head has to be by my head or I can't sleep. This is completely nuts but if the bear's feet are near my head, it makes me a little crazy.



B) My socks have to match. This may not seem odd to you...however, if you stop to consider that all my socks are white and most of them are half-calf...then you understand that it's just a little obsessive to "match" them...but there are some that are thicker than others, some that have gray heels and toes, some that have red stitching across the toe with "Hanes" on them. I cannot handle mix-n-match. Last night, I was late for work because the pair I grabbed wasn't matched properly...I had one Hanes and one "not hanes". I tried...believe me, I tried so hard to just go with it...and couldn't. I had to find another pair.



Red) Don't touch my computer screen. Don't leave fingerprints on it. Wrap the cords properly.



4) If I start watching a movie...even if it's one I've seen 100 times or one I hate...I have to watch it to the end. Seriously, I cannot turn a movie off in the middle. Now, I KNOW the movie isn't going to change from the last time I saw it...but it might...and I need to make sure it doesn't.



These are just off the top of my head. There is a certain world order I adhere to and it's a little crazy, I admit it. That covers my OCD. Well, some of it. Oh...and I hate internet speak. Except for LOL and the like. But...is it soooo hard to spell YOU that you have to shorten it to "u"? or ARE "r". Pls. Srsly. GtRl. L8R Dood. ARGHHHH. I don't want to have to decode what I'm reading. I like to READ it, get what I need from it and move on with my day.



As to my ADD...see, I didn't start this blog with this in mind, it just evolved here... the original point of my post was this.



I think President Obama is going about this stimulus package all wrong. Instead of shelling out 825BILLION dollars for "infrastructure" and what*ever... I think every tax payer (notice...TAX PAYER) should get 500k.



Now...that sounds a little crazy, I know...but it would be cheaper and it would definitely stimulate the economy. It could stabilize the housing and car markets and allow people to actually...I dunno... go OUT to dinner and a movie so that the restaurant and cinemas could stay in business. They would also have some disposable income for those big ticket items... tvs, ipods, computers, laptops... Spore...gods I covet that game but with an almost 70$ price tag I won't buy it until I can get it used at gamestop for 20 or 30. Especially since there are expansion pack thingies.



Also...I have an issue with taxes...well, several.



1) I shouldn't have to pay them. I mean, I'm not afforded the same rights as everyone else, so why should I pay for them? Oh, yeah...exactly. I'm a little annoyed about the whole marriage bill thing since my gf needs to be put on my insurance and I can't afford her. Grr. Argh.



B) There's something on the radio about how Donald Trump and his chauffeur both share the same... something about the top tax whatever. It boils down to this...everyone pays X% ... So... for the sake of easy math - let's say everyone pays 10% of their income. Donald Trump Makes 100,000$ per year and the chauffeur makes 1000$ a year (again, simple math). 10% of 100,000$ is 10,000, 10% or 1000$ is 100. Donald is definitely paying more in taxes but the chauffeur is feeling it more. Some people think Donald should pay more because he makes more...but that hardly seems fair. I mean, in some ways it makes sense but it doesn't seem fair to tax people for working hard and making lots of money. So Donald pays his taxes, plus his chauffeur's salary (and hundreds of other salaries) and now we think he should pay for the chauffeur's son's public education, the roads that lead to the buildings he's putting up and the water facility to clean the water that will be pumped into his buildings. Ummm...Yeah...something isn't right there. Why should someone else foot the bill for something we all need and use?



Yeah, I don't have an answer for this. At all. Some people can only make 1000$ a year...for whatever reason their circumstances are. But I hardly think the Donald Trumps of this world should pay for the 14 children that crazy woman in California had. No one forced that woman to have the children, she CHOSE to. I don't think taxpayers...any taxpayers...should be forced to foot the bill for someone else's stupidity and irresponsibility. No accountability for her actions...she's expecting to be paid for her interviews, is expecting free stuff from baby places. Huh...and here I was thinking you were responsible for your own children (crazy of me, I know, given the field I work in and the neglected kids I see every day).



I'm also having neighbor issues. I truly hate apartment living.



Think That'll Do It,




Laurie

*grins* I love that Caught has taken to this blog so quickly – I think it was a good idea, don’t you?

Life in the forest has been a “grand adventure.”

Thursday, Spirit, my big boy greyhound, was put in an E-collar because of obsessive licking his leg into raw meat. Stelle, the whining shadow little gal greyhound, was diagnosed with Canine Separation Anxiety after getting used to having us home during the snowstorm. School called to say that the blonde didn't feel well - then called again to say she was vomiting - she came home and slept all day.

Friday, my MIL had open heart surgery. I didn't go to the hospital until late afternoon, when the word "complications" was used because of the blonde's tummy - though she did feel measurably better by Friday afternoon.

MIL was out of surgery after about 6 hours. Her aortic valve was replaced with a pig valve. The dr decided not to repair the small hole that caused her heart murmur or the prolapsed mitral valve because the time it would take to do the repairs would kill her. The major complication was because of the calcification, the dr was unable to completely seal the new valve to the heart and it started leaking. He is very young and apparently a rock star in the field and so did something that only 400 doctors know how to do. He basically saran wrapped the heart with cow intestine that will catch the leaking blood and return it to the heart for reprocessing.

He said many times that she has a very, very sick heart and he was surprised that she was even walking around. Her heart was so covered and blocked by coral-like stuff that it had blocked her valves to have openings of the size of a pencil eraser. The ensuing pressure over so long has made her heart muscle grow because it has worked so hard (like biceps when they work hard become larger). Her heart had grown to four times the size it should be (about the size of your fist). When the valve was removed, it shattered into 8 pieces - normally, it comes out in 1 or 2. Over time her heart will reduce in size, though will never be normal again.

He's kept her in a chemical coma to ease her body into evening back out. Her heart is beating on its own but she had a pacemaker now to keep it steady and strong for now. She has 1:1 nursing care and family is camped almost 24/7. BIL#2 is staying with wheelchair-bound BIL#1. MIL's sister, yelled (literally) at all of the kids except Dane about having regular checkups and not letting this happen to them. She is, understandably, stressed and did apologize to the kids later.

Friday night, Dane took me out to a wonderful dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse for my birthday. It was, of course, delightful - until dessert where I spilled at least a tablespoon of molten chocolate cake down my white cashmere sweater. Twice. Yes, I have a photo - it's stunning. *eyeroll*

Late Friday night, the blonde started vomiting again. Saturday morning, I did. It is now, officially called "Pukeapallooza". I had a head/nose/throat cold - and stomach flu. The blonde has recovered completely. We have not been back to the hospital and we will not be going. When MIL is awake, we'll call.

Sunday, the doctor added a feeding tube so her body would start processing food and said that she looks wonderful for everything that her body has been through. He is starting to wean her off the coma chemicals so she can wake up. His prognosis is "guardedly optimistic".

She’s had a lot of problems when they try to lower the morphine or take the respirator out. On Monday, it was discovered that her left lung collapsed, full of mucus – it was vacuumed out and re-inflated. They will try to pull the tube out today, I hear.

I’ve been home sick since Saturday. This cold is kicking my butt but I’m very lucky to have an employer who offered the time off. Of course, I couldn’t even answer a phone in this condition, but still, it was very kind.

On the 7th (though really, it was still "my birthday" on the 6th because I hadn't been to bed yet) I updated my story Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire through chapter 50. The chapter had been in my head for so very long that actually geting it out on paper then .doc was amazing to me. I had such a terrible time trying to write it, too. I had images and many lines that had been bumping around in my head that trying to work them into complete thoughts and coherant sentances was brutal. I expect that it won't get too much better form here on out since I'm leading to the climax of the story now. It's really cool to see everything I've been writing for so long come into being in real, honest to God words! Chapter 50 is entitled "Bought and Paid For" and includes the hours before and the Ministry 'Arabian Nights slave auction' that formalizes the relationship between Severus and Kiaya.

I’ve been able to catch up on some reading at The Masque in my time off. I’m so excited that dweaver999 has started a sequel of his Galactic Slave story, called Galactic Slut. This man’s writing thrills me. It’s elegant, evocative and ever so titillating. It’s also some darned good sci-fi with different species of aliens, an ominous villain Big Brother, far off worlds and Crystal, Susan’s implanted… well... I wouldn’t say symbiot, but Crystal certainly has a personality. Take a read – it’s wonderful stuff.

The Reason I Couldn't Sleep Tonight

The mist covered the ground in the pre-dawn light, swirling around Calleigh's legs as she made her way through the trees to the clearing. The jacger had been spotted in Wayside stealing cattle - too close to town to leave the beast be. Calleigh slowed her pace as she neared the clearing, padding silently to the edge of the wood. The sight of the jacger caused her to pause - the beast was magnificent and it saddened her to have to destroy it.


Doglike with tiger stripes and paws and roughly the size of a Clydesdale, Jacgers were normally solitary creatures, seeking out a companion only to mate. Litters were small, ranging from one to three pups and young jacgers were abandoned by their mothers approximately a month after they were born. They usually shunned the villages, choosing to hunt deep in the forest and avoiding people. This one had either lost its way and found itself too far from its hunting grounds - or was older and had been forced from its hunting grounds by a younger jacger.


As if sensing her presence, the beast raised its massive head from its kill and looked in her direction. It was then Calleigh saw why the jacger had hunted so close to town - there was a long, fresh gash across its face, slicing through one eye. Cattle were easy prey. The beast growled, baring fangs still dripping with the gore of its kill.


Calleigh took a deep breath and centered herself as she drew her sword, Qitax. A majick blade, forged in a time long forgotten and named in a forgotten language, Qitax shimmered with an ethereal purple glow. The sword had chosen her when she was still a child, calling to her as she walked past the rack where it had stood for centuries, apparently waiting for its new master - or mistress in this case. Calleigh had sworn to her grandfather, when he caught her wielding Qitax, that the sword had called her name as she passed by. When he questioned her about why she named it Qitax, she had calmly explained that she hadn't named it. She couldn't express how she knew its name, just that when she picked the sword up, she knew it. He had nodded sagely and had gotten a master swordsman to train her in the use of the sword. Now, Qitax was as much a part of her as the arm that wielded it.


She stepped into the clearing, the blade shimmering and glinting as the first rays of the sun hit it. She waited, watching the jacger's good eye and preparing for the charge she knew would come. The jacger paced for a moment before springing forward, bloodied claws bared as it charged Calleigh. She waited until it was almost upon her before spinning and brought Qitax to bear. The blade sang as it cut the air, cleaving through skin, sinew and bone, severing the beast's claw from its body. Calleigh cursed herself as the beast roared in pain and anger. Her timing was off, she had meant to kill the beast outright, not maim it. She wheeled just in time to see the animal bearing down on her but wasn't quite quick enough as the beast's good paw slashed her shoulder, flaying the skin open. She growled in pain and rolled on her good shoulder, coming up with Qitax at the ready. The beast lunged and Calleigh swung her blade again, this time striking true to the beast's chest and slicing cleanly down its body as it sailed over her, dead before it hit the ground.


Calleigh sank to her knees, breathing hard and wincing as the slashes in her shoulder bled freely, the skin opening with each deep breath. A sound made her turn to look at the beast and she was horrified to see a pup struggling to free itself from the wound Calleigh's blade had opened in the beast's womb. It had been a pregnant female - what on earth had attacked her? With no time to think, Calleigh quickly moved to the beast's side and opened the womb wider, thankful to see it was just the one pup. The surprise didn't end there - the pup was female...and purple. Jacs were brown or beige, sometimes black and rarely red but a purple jac? She'd never heard of one, much less seen one. Purple...her signature color...this couldn't be coincidence. Sheathing Qitax, she picked up the pup and cradled it, smiling softly as it nestled into her. The mother had been close to birthing, this was a full term pup and had been ready to be born. She would need to be fed soon and often. Calleigh stood up and, wincing as her shirt pulled at the drying blood of her shoulder, headed for home. Apparently, her familiar had found her in much the same manner as her sword had.

Kids...and other annoyances

I love kids. No, seriously, I absolutely love them. I have five nieces and nephews that are blood related and five that aren't blood related but I love just as much. I love seeing kids in restaurants and feel badly for the parents when they act up but I have to stop myself from laughing - because as the "not-the-parent" I'm amused. I love babies and toddlers and pre-teens and even teens. I love the way their minds work at all stages of development. I'm constantly fascinated by the intelligence and creativity of the children in my life.




I started babysitting when I was 11 and babysat until I graduated college. Between 11 & 18 it was pocket money and "special stuff that mom and dad aren't going to buy me" money. The summer of my sophomore year of college, it was "I want to go to NYC for a week in August" money. I worked at a playground for two college summers, teaching kids about sportsmanship, chess, arts & crafts and whatever life lessons they chose to ask me about.




It is constantly amazing to me that I was 36 before I actually settled into a job I was pretty much born to do. I work with kids who are emotionally and behaviorally challenged. Now, writing is my passion - the reason I get out of bed and sit at my computer for any number of hours a day. Kids...kids are a calling, I guess. I'm compelled to write, want to write, need to write. I love working with these kids in the hopes of making a difference...even if it's only to one kid.




Which brings me to today. I work 11:30pm until 8am (EST)...I LOVE the overnight shift. As a general rule, it's quiet and I can get some writing done, talk to friends who live on the other coast (and in the central and mountain time zones), catch up on my webcomics (questionable content, something*positive, punch an' pie, penny and aggie, least I could do, looking for group) and my games (Kingdom of Loathing, Tanoth, Sryth). At 6:15am, I start waking kids up. Usually...this is a fairly straightforward and well-oiled routine thing. Wake 1 kid at 6:15, 2 at 6:30, 1 at 7, 1 at 7:30 - this varies depending on the number of kids we have (we're only at 5 kids, capacity is 8), their ages (7-14) and what time they have to be at school (right now, 2 leave at 7:15, 3 leave at 7:55). Kids do their hygeine (brush teeth and comb hair, wash face, put deodorant on), get dressed, go down and get breakfast then come back up and wait to leave for school.




Child #5 decided today that he wasn't going to school. Why? Because he didn't get up at 7:25 when he was woken up and asked to. He didn't get up until 7:45. This means he doesn't have time to eat breakfast here, he has to take it "to go". He is not being refused breakfast, he's simply being told that he needs to get his hygeine done and get dressed, then he'll be given his bagel in a baggie to take to school and eat. Now, mind you, most of the kids at the school eat breakfast AT SCHOOL...I'm pretty sure our kids are the only ones who don't. So this isn't a big deal, he's not going to get in any kind of trouble or get made fun of. He became angry, threw his hygeine bin and went back to bed. It's 8:55am and he's still in bed, refusing to get up.




Now, I'm pretty sure there's more going on here than just a late start. These kids are, after all, behaviorally and emotionally challenged. They have problems most of us can't even imagine...and have seen and done things that most of us never will (if we're lucky). The kids in this home are supposed to be getting ready to go home...unfortunately, someone messed up and the kids we have right now - have no homes to go to, they're also not ready to go even if they had them. Their lives are pretty unstable and when "staff" is the most constant thing in their life, it's got to be unsettling and scary. It's all so impermanent. So I try to be patient and nurturing and caring. There is a wall in front of my labeled "STRENGTHS" with a myriad of posters in bright colors with staff and children's names on them. My name is there and my strength (chosen by one of the kids that was here when I started) is PATIENCE. Ms. Kraus is PATIENT. And so I am, usually. Today? Not so much. I keep repeating to myself that he has problems, stuff going on that he's trying to deal with blah blah blah.




However, I am annoyed. They tell you to leave your personal life outside the "office" and I'm pretty good at doing that. But this has been a trying week outside of work, it's Thursday, it's now 9am and I'm exhausted because I haven't slept all week and want to go home and put my jammies on (yes, this is me whining). And this child won't get out of his bed and GO TO SCHOOL. My patience is fast wearing thin and I'm hoping someone gets in soon. Oh, wait, the person coming in has to go pick up the kid that's running a fever at school. The kid who told me she wasn't feeling well this morning but who I had to send to school because I am not allowed to keep kids home. That's right...42 years old and my judgment about when not to send a kid to school isn't deemed sound. All kids, no matter what, have to go to school because of the staffing situation. If they get sick at school, they can go to the nurse and someone will have to go pick them up. Crazy, right? Kid #1 actually woke up crying this morning, I could see she wasn't feeling well (and she's not one to try and wiggle out of school)...but I had to send her to school. So my annoyance was already notched up because I felt so badly (I am really no good at seeing a kid cry) about sending this kid to school. Meanwhile...perfectly healthy kid #5 is laying in bed. Yes...grr. argh.




So, I am annoyed. Annoyed about kid #1, annoyed at kid #5 and annoyed with the folks that are supposed to be here AT 8AM JUST IN CASE shit like this happens. Remember? Kids are EMOTIONALLY AND BEHAVIORALLY CHALLENGED...there are days like this...there are going to be days like this and at 8am I am tired...it is the end of my shift and I want to get out of here because I have been up all night and I am tired and my eyes hurt and I'm getting cranky and the odds of me keeping my patience is rapidly deteriorating and all I want to do is yank Kid #5 out of bed and kick his ass all the way to school. Of course, this is not something I have ever done or will ever do. I know (intellectually) that this will not solve the problem.



But it just might amuse me.




Think That'll Do It,




Laurie

Blue Tooth & Phone... a love story

For Christmas this past year, mom bought me a blue tooth for my phone. I had been considering getting one, especially since I didn't have a headset for the car and I won't talk on the phone without one because 1) it's dangerous and b) it's illegal here in NY and, while I've done some pretty stupid things, the thought of a run-in with the police over a cell phone hardly seems worth the trouble.



Now, what stopped me from getting a blue tooth was a) cost and 2) I didn't want to come off as more of a pretentious jerk than I already am (there are those that would disagree but I am often a jerk and not-as-often pretentious). But mom got me one and I have to say I love it.



My phone, apparently, also loves it and it loves my phone. It was so cute...they hit it off immediately, each recognizing the other in a moment of kindred spiritness...beeping and blinking and flashing pretty colors at each other. It was majickal. Now Blue Tooth and Phone are practically inseparable - they charge on the same power strip at the same time, sit on the desk together when they're not in use.



I was unaware of this love affair until recently. The one problem I have with Blue Tooth is that I often forget Phone in the car now. For so long, I had Phone in my pocket when I went to the car because I knew I wouldn't need it while driving. Now, I put Phone on the charger in the car, while Blue Tooth is nestled in my ear and then I exit the car, leaving Phone behind. This was the situation when I realized that Blue Tooth and Phone were in love. I had to run into the pharmacy and had forgotten Phone, but Blue Tooth was snug in my ear...as I got further from the car, Blue Tooth made a very sad "beeeep" sound in my ear and I wondered what it was, but didn't think too deeply about it. I left the pharmacy and, as I approached the car, I heard the same "beeep" but this time it sounded happier. Odd, I thought. But that was as far as the thought went until this evening. This evening, I was on my way into yet another pharmacy (long story involving scripts, idiots and insurance companies - which really amounts to the same thing)...and again, the forlorn "beeep" as I got further away from the car. I realized that I had left the range of Blue Tooth to Phone and Blue Tooth was letting me know... or...was Blue Tooth simply lamenting the loss of connection with Phone? They're inseparable and here I was, separating them like they were Romeo and Juliet. As I re-approached the car, the same little "beeep" only it sounded joyful...like the lovers had been reunited as I walked within range. Joy!! Oh JOY!!! Blue Tooth seemed to exclaim... My Love...I'm BACK...I'm sorry I left.



So, there you have it...the story of Blue Tooth and Phone...a love story for the ages.



Or the next twenty minutes, yanno... whichever comes first.



Think That'll Do It,


Laurie

Journey through a Rhinestone Reality: Review of Thalassa "the Old Ways

Journey through a Rhinestone Reality: Review of Thalassa "the Old Ways

Review of Thalassa "the Old Ways

I approach this review coming from a rather specific background in BDSM. Unlike many folks, I come from a rather formal tradition and protocol-laden sect of that lifestyle which I find great comfort in. That said, this story does NOT have to be read from that background or even having it in mind at all. They story can also very easily be read from the perspective of someone from a more traditional, formal culture which venerates it’s elders and adults and thus teaches it’s children respect for those older from a very young age. As the author is Greek, this is likely the mindset before BDSM. The theme is not carried through the whole story – there is a point of “equality”.

Thalassa’s The Old Ways resonated so deeply with me. Hermione’s curiosity and desire to be non-offensive and pleasing was, for me, a very realistic emotion. She didn’t dismiss a grumpy Snape because of his foul temper but sought ways in which to be pleasing – though her only reason was because he’d earned respect. In her journey, Hermione finds a mentor to explain and tutor her through a complex series of behavior rituals which very much parallel formal Old Guard submissive training in D/s. Once familiar with the ritual behaviors and well versed and comfortable in the mindset required, Hermione’s adventures continue in her interactions as an ambassador to other species who also function through these Old Ways of behavior and through a growing adult relationship with Snape.

While I found Snape’s behavior in the first chapter to be far too exaggerated for reality (though a rather canonically correct out-of-control), the marked difference in his manner through Hermione’s training into a civilized, mannered young woman is a delightful parallel to a Beauty and the Beast story. The Snape of this story grows as a character and a man from a one-sided caricature into a complete being with a fascinating past, intriguing family and proud culture. Hermione, while submissive and very much a student of Snape’s is not a doormat and remains spirited and intelligent, true to Rowling’s character.

The story spends comparatively little time at Hogwarts, instead taking the reader on a journey to far off castles and peoples. I love when a story can move me out of the classroom and into the universe that surely must exist in Rowling’s world, but that she never had time to show us. Thalassa did just that. I felt like her world was simply an extension of Harry’s familiar one and, had Rowling had time, Harry could have been there, too. There are several original characters as well as a new take a several familiar ones – and a delightful, logical justification for a book-burning, not-always pleasant Dumbledore. I would have loved to delve deeper into some of these original characters and was really put out when I couldn’t learn as much as I wanted to about these very interesting people.

Be prepared for a cliché or two, some formatting issues and for some choppy language use closer to the beginning and a slightly more stilted language use that what most readers are used to later on. English is not the author’s first language and it shows through word choice and lack of contractions, though she has a really excellent handle on English and is very good at manipulating words into a fine tale. She offers quite a few very funny lines. A few chapters in, thalassa added an accomplished editor/beta who helped to smooth many things out – but you’ll still notice it.

The website summary of this story is entirely inadequate to describe the ensuing adventures. The plot was imaginative and original, even with so many HG/SS stories floating around. Visually, the descriptions in the story could have had more depth but I never had to wonder what room the characters were in. What description was there was enough to give me a nice sense of atmosphere without verging on even lilac prose. The characters were generally believable though I thought Hermione could use a tad more cunning and Rowling’s impatience. Severus’s cruelty certainly eased off, but that could easily be explained by being enamored. I would have loved to see the D/s aspect of the story remain a constant, even in an older/younger dynamic. Not having it last through the whole story felt a little strange for me – though I didn’t pine for that dynamic when it went away when Hermione became an “adult”. Nothing could change how much I really enjoyed the story – even after three reads to get my thoughts in order.

To put it simply, I read this story from end to end in one fell swoop, even crying off of spending personal time in favor of reading this story that completely caught my attention and kept it for a long time. It’s absolutely on my “favorites” list.

BG

Richard Cory, Life, Death and the strange place known as my head.

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich — yes, richer than a king —
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Edwin Arlington Robinson, 1867

I love this poem and have since I first read it in...1980something. I know back then I had NO clue what this poem was about so I don't know why I liked it back then. What I do know is: I remembered it and I know what it means to me today. It was brought to mind by a new song by Tim McGraw "Nothin' To Die For". Good tune. Nothing like the poem...it's NOT about suicide but about life. But it made me think about suicide...no, not as in committing it. I am selfish but not that selfish. I also have this weird life thing going on. I thought about how selfish people who use a car to kill themselves are. But that got me to thinking about how desperate/lonely/hopeless/lost someone has to be to take their own life. I'm not having a good time of things lately, but I keep on keeping on because that's what you do. Some people can't. It gives me pause to wonder...what do I have that they didn't? It's gotta be internal but damned if I know what it is.

I suffer from depression. Actually, I revel in it. I'm usually more creative and funnier when I'm depressed. So I've been told anyway - yes, I actually had a friend in college tell me "Laurie, I know you're depressed but you're too damn funny when you're down." It's true...the more depressed I get, the funnier I get...because that's how I deal. Laugh at myself, the situation and soon it's not as bad as it seems. My depression is chemical, not emotional and when I take my happy pills, I'm on a relatively laid back and on even keel. I take them because I don't like crying. I am still relatively creative and my sharp wit is dulled only a little by the chemicals that are supposed to balance my natural chemicals, but I am definitely more amusing when I've got an emotional depression. Again, this is how I deal with depression/anger/most negative emotions...I laugh, I joke, I make fun of it. I reach a bottom point and think "okay, now I'm just being ridiculous" and I start climbing back up.

Yes, I have a point to all of this rambling. I try (keyword there) to treat everyone the way I want to be treated because EVERYONE is fighting a battle. You can't know everything about anyone - ultimately you can only know what they allow you to know. You have no way of knowing what someone else is dealing with. Most people only know my sense of humor, laid back attitude and quick smile. That's all they need to know. My friends know a good deal more (hence the "friend" label) but there are things I keep only for me. Things no one needs to know.

I know my friends are worried. Jen's been sick for a full six months now. She's been out of work since July 27, 2008. I'm her primary care-giver (thank gods for her mother! Never thought I'd be grateful for a mother-in-law) and the sole source of income at the moment. I'm the responsible one...and really, I'm wondering how the HELL that happened. Me? Responsible? Perish the thought...and yet, there it is.

Am I stressed? Yes. There's quite a lot on my plate...no, my platter...and at the moment and I'm trying hard to keep it all together.

Am I depressed? Yes. Jen's not getting any better. The doctors haven't a clue and they're not helping her.

Am I worried? You betcha. HUGE worried...because I know me. I'm selfish and self-centered and thoughtless at the best of times. I'm worried I won't take good care of her. Because I KNOW ME and know the flake I can be (and, usually am).

But my friends don't have to worry. I'm okay. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense but I am. I know I'm a lot quieter lately than I've ever been. I'm a lot more in my head...mainly because there's a lot going on up there and I'm working through it piece by piece. But I'm okay...because I have faith. I may not believe in the Christian version of God...but I do believe. My life works because I don't try to work my life...I just live it...day to day, minute to minute and let God, the Universe, whatever you want to call it take care of things. Why? Because it always has. I get what I need when I need it and not a minute before. May not be what I want or how I want it...but it's what I need.

So...friends who are reading this...stop worrying. I'm not going to pull a Richard Cory. I am not afraid of death...but I'm not going out looking for it either. Kinda wanna see how this weird life I've got plays out. Besides...I've got 2 more Harry Potter movies and a 4th Inheritance Cycle book to look forward to...can't wait...and by that time, I'll have found something else worth waiting for...like my nieces and nephews getting married.

Think That'll Do It,

Laurie

Buffy and Willow Awards?

Our own CaughtNTheQuiet is nominated in two categories for her story Willow's Promise so if you haven't read the story, read it (because you'll love it) and if you have read it, please support Caught and vote for it here.

What are The Willowy Goodness Awards?
The Willowy Goodness Awards are for any and all Willow-centric fanfic. As long as Willow is the primary character (or one of the primary characters) in the story, it is eligible to be nominated. We have many categories for all types of Willow-centric fanfic. Slash, het, all ratings (G-NC-17) are eligible!

BG

Shameless

Yes, yes I am. I'm shameless.

I wrote a novel. Some of you know this, some of you may not. It was...erm...IS a fan-fic novel based on the tv series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The title is Willow's Promise (clicky click :) ) and someone thought it was good enough to nominate it for two awards here ~~~~> Willowy Goodness Awards ... soooo...

Go. Read. It's a good story even if you're not a Buffy fan. Then, go vote for me *grins*. Voting is open from February 1st-February 28th.

Yes, short and to the point blog...not in a rambly frame of mind at the moment.

Think that'll do it,

Laurie

A World Without Men

I was flipping through facebook and found an article posted by one of my FB Friends... Lesbian Communities.



I admire these womyn. I am thankful that they were there to blaze the trail to allow me to be me. I don't identify as lesbian but I'm not comfortable with the "bi-sexual" tag either. So I know I wouldn't be welcome in this community, and I'm okay with that because I don't think I could live in a world without men. Not because I want to be with one but because I happen to have a father and two brothers I love and three nephews I adore.



I understand their desire for separatism. The desire to be around like minded womyn, who share the same struggle and want the same things. The desire to know that you're living in a safe environment. Seriously, who doesn't want that? Gay, straight, male, female - we all want to be safe and loved. So I understand. But I also know that the younger generation (if I can even be considered younger anymore) want to raise families. Families that include boys and non-lesbian girls. This community wouldn't allow that, if I'm reading the article right.



I guess my problem is...I don't want to have to live separate from society to be accepted and feel safe. How do you change the world when you shun it? How do you change the world when you're creating the very thing the world accuses you of? Also, unless you're independently wealthy, living in these communities is cost-prohibitive. They're struggling to remain relevant because the younger generation has to work, they have ties to their families and their diverse communities. When these womyn created their collective, it was because the world at large shunned them. They were treated as something "wrong" and the need to have a safe haven was pressing. The need is no longer as pressing now that people are starting to realize that being a lesbian is no big deal. The bigger a deal we make it, the less the "mainstream" society is going to accept us for who we are.


I'm not a radical feminist...heck, political stuff in general makes me break out in hives...but I am out. To my friends, my family (except my father - we allow him to live in his deep denial although I'm fairly certain, because he's not a stupid man, that he knows that Jen and I aren't just "roommates"), and at work. I don't hide who I am anymore. I'm not in your face about it, I'm matter of fact about it - this is me, take me or leave me but I'm not going to change for you or anyone else.


Of course, I recognize that I work in a field that is conducive to being out. I work with emotionally and behaviorally challenged kids...I work within an organization that preaches diversity. They offer domestic partner benefits and, if something should happen to Jen's father or mother, I'd be granted bereavement leave as though Jen and I are married. I'm very fortunate in that respect and recognize not every woman (or man) who is in a same sex relationship has the same freedom.


But isn't that what we're fighting for? Isn't that what these womyn started by separating from society? We're fighting for equality. We're fighting to be recognized as "normal" people. By separating from society, it seems to send the message that either "we're too good for society" or "we're not good enough to live in society".


Since Barack Obama's election, I've been joking that "Gay is the new black"... but in all honesty, the civil rights struggle for gays and lesbians is still very much a struggle and the only way to break the barriers down isn't by constructing more of them, it's by battering the ones there are and telling people...we're your mother, father, sister, brother, friend... we're the same person you loved ten minutes before you found out we're gay, we haven't changed, you just have new information about us.


I'm not sure I've made any sense here. It's rather early in the morning and the randomness of my thoughts on this subject have quite probably created a convoluted message.

The nuts and bolts: I admire and respect these womyn. Without them blazing the trail, I wouldn't be able to be as open as I am. I simply don't want to be one of them...if I'm to be a trailblazer, I want to blaze it right through the world of men and make everyone take notice. I'm not a trailblazer...but if someday I am considered one, I want to be one of the voices that made it possible for the first lesbian to get elected president.


Think that'll do it,

Laurie