Whaddaya MEAN You've Never Heard of Me?!?

Just like to make a general announcement that the person who sends me a copy of Appropriate Adult, BBC's made-for-TV movie about Fred and Rosemary West will receive a bounty of gifts superior to anything they could possibly imagine. You guys like candy and signed books, right?
;-]

That story is freaky as shit, and a nice reminder for ME that I didn't have the craziest, most secretly fucked up family in the world. The BBC does not tend to fuck around.
This movie is gonna be amazing--far superior to any overhyped sensationalized American shit WE would have come up with on the off chance that we'd even touch a story like that. Apparently, the BBC cast just the right guy to play Fred.

And I want it. Want. Want. Want.

Fabulous prizes await the first person to send me a clean copy that I can play on an American DVD player.

My brother, Mark came over for dinner today. I made a big stir-fry that turned out really delicious. The cheesecake brownies were delicious too and I sent him home with a couple of sizable ones. I'm starting to sound like one of those grandmotherly-types that keeps telling people to eat, and wants to send them home with big Tupperwares full of food. Not that I have any actual Tupperware. Anyway, there was food, (Bro-ham called my cooking "gourmet") trivia, great conversation. He's such a good guy. H took this awesome picture of us:

I like it very much, although I'm pretty sure having a shine on your face is one of those things chicks are supposed to feel mortified about. And just for fun, here's one of JoJo. He's once again making sure that he's the center of attention.

Not pictured: Pentelope, H.

I've been debating making a conscious choice to stop saying "Mentally ill." I don't care for the phrase, connotatively. More importantly though, I don't think it's accurate. There is no cure for a mental health diagnosis. Even a supposed cure-all like ECT (I've never had ECT, but it's one of my greatest fears in re: The Crazy) doesn't actually make you not mentally ill. Like the common cold, treatments are designed to relieve symptoms so the patient is able to function out in the world. Saying a person is "ill" all the time...forever is goddamn depressing. If I take my meds and do what I'm supposed to, I feel reasonably well most of the time. So calling me "ill" is not accurate. It's not like I'm contagious.
But what to say instead? I'm okay with the word Mental even though the connotation of that is not great in many circles. After trying and rejecting several options I'm almost ready to settle on Mentally Odd. That sounds closest to the truth to me.

My brain chemistry works differently than a lot of other people's. If I want to have a job and maintain relationships the way other people expect and deserve, I have to take pills to alter my brain chemistry. That sounds pretty simple, but socially/politcally/emotionally it opens up a whole can of worms. I know people who literally flinch at hearing the word "crazy." They view it as accusatory and derogatory. They take great offense. It *is* kind of a low-brow way to refer to someone, and when people use it seriously or "half-jokingly"--you can bet it's coming from a combination of ignorance and judgement. The word "crazy" calls to mind images of ranting lunatics in straight jackets, being led away by men in white coats. We now know that not everybody with a mental health diagnosis (verbose phrase, isn't it?) reaches anything close to that point. But some of us do, and we're not entirely comfortable with people not taking it seriously. At the same time, it *can* be pretty fucking funny.

The word "insanity," like "crazy" gets tossed around all too often. Insipid people describe themselves as crazy if they lose their car keys or space out in traffic. That is a far cry from what actual mentally-odd people go through. (Okay, I tried it out there. How'd it sound?) I almost resent people using it casually and untruthfully. I do accept that it's in the vernacular now. More importantly, when people say it, I grok that they are talking about themselves and not me. Still, it's not accurate, just hyperbole. I don't want to be one of those douches who can't take a little hyperbole without getting all Gloria Allred on everyone. ;-]

My final point on insanity today is this: Having a brain chemistry that is different from the average person is a good thing, IMO. Not that I have a choice, but now that I understand what the hell's going on with me I am able to manage it in a way that still allows for feeling the highs and lows of life. I can get to my crazy for writing, and deal with my crazy for say, going to work. And my books really are getting better and better. Like regular people, sometimes it gets to be too much. But I can deal with it, sometimes with a bit of help. I'm not ashamed to ask for help if I need it. In fact, I'm proud that I can now recognize that I need it BEFORE I've done something horrible to fuck up my life. That thing recently was a pretty close call though, I admit. Anyway--I'm not trying to jump on a "we crazy people are sooooo much deeper than you" high horse. Just saying that there are benefits to having a brain that doesn't want you to do the things you think you want to do.
Mentally odd (!) people see the world differently that so-called sane people. We often do feel things with greater intensity than the average person (I almost want to use the word severely. We feel things severely.) and with my diagnosis, dizzying highs and crippling lows. Of course, there are also crippling highs and dizzying lows--which are not as good. The ability to see things in a different way from many is why so many of us become artists of one kind of another. Once we recognize that we have this ability (people usually have to tell us, because we don't tend to realize how different we are on our own) we typically aspire to hone it. People wonder why so many great musicians, actors, etc turn to drugs, or die young, or can't make a marriage last. It's because we're fucking crazy. ;-] Mentally odd people crave the outlet, the expression, the approval--even the applause when all those noisy people aren't scaring the shit out of us. But we also have issues. Scary, scary issues. Seeing things "differently" is natural for us. It's only different when compared to the "sane." But even a differently-mentally-odd partner (damn, it's getting verbose in here again) needs someone with some level of predictability. If we want to live and be around other people, we're better off etching our message of benevolent oddness into the glorious wall of human creativity--shut up, it's a metaphor--than we are etching it into our own collective forearms.

Plus, sometimes, writing a book about murdering people reminds us how wrong it is to actually murder people.

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Chances are, the reason it's my dream home in the first place is because some kind of crazy murder took place there. (Is there a such a thing as a non-brutal murder???) Obviously, I would give the new digs every kind of spiritual sweeping within my power. But a murder would NOT keep me from buying a house or living there, even though I am terrified of my own shadow most of the time. A random killing might make me a little more nervous than a crime of passion, as in the Simpsons house hunting adventure where one of the houses has a chalk outline on the ground, and I'll be back!! written in blood on the wall. Let us not forget that the Manson murders at Roman Polanski's house were a case of mistaken identity.

If indeed there are upset spirits of the formerly alive wandering around trying to get justice for one thing or another--then pretty much every place would be haunted. Every hospital, every old folks home, every asylum--hell, especially every asylum. We'd have our asses haunted every time we found love, or happiness, or had children, or aquired wealth or did anything else happy that some ghost is judgmental and bitter about because they don't think they got their fair share of whatever the thing in question is. They'd never stop fucking with us, and we'd be basically powerless to do anything about it.

In the end, ghosts are probably the spiritual remains of people. Like people, some of them will be really nice, others will be complete dicks, and most will be average and boring as shit. There is the theory that if they are ghosts, than it's because they were too upset over something to travel to whatever comes next. That would suck, but it's no reason to haunt an innocent bystander. So I'll say to ghosts what I say to most people who take their bullshit out on others instead of doing the work. "Get over it. Move on already."

...and which I am learning 8 times over. I've been trying to murder this character since Friday night. After some initial procrastinating, I have literally been at the keyboard for more than 10 hours total, and still have not managed to kill this girl. It's going to be a bad death, one that has some substantial impact on the story, and I just can't do it. I don't know why. The mechanics of the kill aren't falling into place--the girl's character development isn't strong enough to lead me in the right direction (another problem in and of itself). And my MC is grating on my nerves. But I'm going to do it today. I'm not due at work until 3pm tomorrow, so I'm not going to bed until she's dead.

Cartoons were awesome last night. Family Guy does Stephen King is one of the best ideas they've ever had. And the false lead in about The Shinning? Excellent! Next weekend is all the cartoon season finales. I just hope I'm back in town in time to see them. (I'm going to Clare to celebrate absinthofhearts birthday in case you didn't know.)

H decided he doesn't want to see Star Trek anymore. So we're not going. His rampant mind changing about movies that are getting good reviews is one of the few things H does that annoys me. We'd been planning to see it for months, now he doesn't want to. So...I need someone to go with. Truth be told though, I won't die if I have to wait for the DVD.

Season finale of LOST this week. I know I say this a lot, but 1) I hope there is a polar bear, and 2) I heart Michael Emerson.

I shouldn't complain as I only have to work one Saturday a month, but MAN it's such a drag. It's so slow that people mostly just eat and dick around on the computer all day. I'm wearing a T-shirt to work, since we're allowed to do that on Saturday, and I ate a donut for breakfast because there was a Tim Horton's run. Wow, this post is shaping up to be supremely boring.

I've been reading about how Wal*Mart is warning their people that the company might shut down or something unless McCain is elected. Apparently the Dems want to make it easier to form *gasp* unions, which would wipe out a company like Walmart who profits mainly from running out small busineses and treating their employees like indentured servants. I've had some really shitty jobs in my day, but I've never been locked in a store at night, or denied health benefits. Although I have worked jobs where 24 hours a week is considered full-time.

Speaking of the election, this is another one of those situations where I can't imagine anyone in their right mind voting for The Reds (by which I mean the Republicans). The thought of Obama in office gives me hope, as trite as that sounds. I'd like for America to be more than a war mongering, oil guzzling, american idol watching laughing stock. Like the last two elections, I'm really going to be disappointed in people when they vote for McCain. I wish I could figure a way to be more tolerant, but right now I don't think I can...

So...what are you all doing for your "Staycation" this summer.
I don't know what I'll be doing yet, maybe finding out if there's an age limit at the Youth Hostel in Washington DC. I stayed there once in college, but I don't know if 37 is too old to stay there again. I'd like to pop in and visit my cousin Kathi if I can stand to be on a Greyhound for that long.
Speaking of which, did you hear about the guy who got decapitated by another guy with a hunting knife? It was on a Greyhound, in CANADA. I didn't realize things like that happened in Canada.