Aug. 12th, 2017 06:44 pm
wednes: (Irate typist)
I live in a country with Nazis in it.
They helped elect the POTUS, who does not denounce white supremacy.
Coincidentally, he does not know even the most basic aspects of world (or even US) history. Which I guess means we're all condemned to repeat it.

Or we would, if climate change wasn't going to kill us all first.

One thing's for certain...I'm going to continue to smoke as much pot as I fucking want to, because I am sad and hopeless and unlikely to live to see 60.

For whatever reason, it seemed important to tell everyone about it.

In other news, the last grisly murder in Hellish Calling turned into a gay sex scene. I hate writing sex scenes, because the words we use to talk about sex all seem clinical or absurd. But this totally happened.
wednes: (Inception)
Yeah, it's the same depression and doubt that happens all the time.
I'd been sleeping too much and tired all the time, even waking up often in the middle of the night. That hasn't happened much since I started using a CPAP. Turns out, my sinuses were stuffy and it was impeding my breathing. Since I still have decent health insurance, I got my nasal spray refilled and that's going well.

Speaking of insurance, if the ACA repeal goes through, I'll be fucked. Like a lot of you, it took me years of trial and error (in which I destroyed relationships, jobs, my own credibility, pursuing career goals, etc etc) to find a med combination that worked without debilitating side effects.
If the repeal goes into effect, no insurance company will be required to cover prescription drugs. Also, no mental health care so even if talk therapy was enough without meds (it isn't), I wouldn't even be able to see anyone for less than $200 an hour. My meds are not generic, so those would be at least $350 a month for one, and $750 a month for the other. That's not counting anything I take for blood pressure, which is some. A few of those are generic, which means I probably could afford enough to not die. But since I'll be making the lives of everyone around me miserable--that's not exactly a blessing.

Funny, since every time someone wants to talk about gun violence, the GOP explains that the "real" problem is inadequate mental health care. Their solution is to take away mental health care--not just for the 24 million people who will lose health care, but for the roughly 2/3 of us not rich enough to afford comprehensive plans and the giant deductibles they'll carry.

So yeah, that's gonna suck.
On the plus side, I might be heading toward a manic binge. Yeah, that sucks for my happiness and well being and all. But I'm getting actual fiction writing done. The screenplay is slowly happening, and short fictions are happening even faster.
I was able to put together a new collection bag for my Arizer today. Most of you probably don't know what that is or why it's awesome. But I assure you, it's a wee accomplishment that gives me a slight sense of pride.
wednes: (Eclipse)
Last week, I had a doc appt on Wednesday. I hate going to the doc. Actually, I hate going anywhere. I don't like being around people or in environments I don't have any control over. The older I become, the worse this is. But I needed med refills and an A1C, so I arranged my whole week so I'd be sure to make it to this appointment.

The doc was sick and canceled on me. That sucked. It was almost shopping day, so I needed my refills called in. I made another appt for Friday--the last possible day to get them called in so we could pick them up on grocery day.
The doc was still sick and canceled again. At this point, I was annoyed for myself and kinda worried for my doc. Also, I asked the nurse to call in all my scrips.

Long story short, nothing worked. I still don't have my meds and it's Wednesday afternoon. Right now, my left foot has been tapping for about 2 1/2 days. I'm supposed to be working, but my attention span is shorter than JoJo's. It took me three hours to figure out what to have for dinner because even thinking about it seemed so overwhelming that I almost just went back to bed. My anxiety is through the roof. Then I made the foolish mistake of reading the news--the kind of news that really makes me wish we owned a car. I hate for H to be out and about so late at night. He doesn't even tell me now when cops hassle him and ask his business. I worry so much that he doesn't want to worry me further--which in turn makes me feel like a basket case a'la Myra in Deathtrap.

I've also been doing this new thing, where I train my brain to stop thinking about something awful and start thinking about...absolutely anything else. So when I remember that Nightmare Client thinks he totally got one over on us, I can make my brain think about something else (like say, Doctor Who) instead of getting angrier and angrier until I'm punching pillows. It's been going well. I'm getting pretty good about this--even knowing that many people developed this skill as children. I'm a crazy-pants, and I'm just getting around to it now.
It's a whole lot more difficult without my psyche meds. I even caught myself wondering if my doc wasn't messing with me on purpose because I'm so shitty about attending appointments. But that would be insane, right? That's the rambling of a paranoid mind, right? RIGHT?!?

Watching The Daily Show though, always helps me feel better. No matter how crazy I get, I still have a complete understanding of why Barack Obama wasn't at work in the Oval Office during 9/11. Because seriously, WHAT?!?

So yeah, my mind is going both fast and slow. It's laser focused on stuff that doesn't matter while being completely unable to focus on the stuff I need to do. Should be awesome to see how this all impacts my review of American Horror Story tonight.
wednes: (Wizard or the Skull)
Disclaimer: Medical pot is legal in my state. Even if one doesn't have a medmar card, getting caught with pot in my town is like a traffic ticket. If the laws are different in your town, for fuck's sake, don't smoke any pot. This post is not meant as a substitute for medical or legal advice. Drugs are bad, mmmkay?

As many of you know, I switched to vaping a few years ago. After about 2 months, I lost my perpetual pot cough and my vocal range returned to just about where it was when I was in college. That was awesome. I also tend to go through less herb, and H says smooching me is hardly like licking an ashtray at all. So that's nice too. ;-)

I've been using the Magic Flight Launch Box. I'm a fan. They're pretty inexpensive, and they come with a lifetime replacement warranty. I end up getting a new one about every year since they just kind of wear out. The screens rip after a while, or a flaw in the wood gets bigger, stuff like that. The customer service at MFLB is outstanding, I've literally never had a problem. I also bought the AC adapter, which also has lifetime replacement and am on my 3rd one. Always awesome, they are.
But you know, I work from home now and have a rather robust vaping schedule. If I'm not working or asleep or on my way out, I like to be at least a little high. The MFLB seems to be more for casual partakers. Apparently, I'm partaking at expert or advanced level. An aficionado if you will. I needed something better, but didn't remotely have the scratch to spend on a volcano.

So a year or so ago, I did a bit of research and saw that Snoop Dogg (AKA Snoop Lion, AKA The Guy I'd Love to Toke With) endorses a line of vapes with a company called Grenco. They had these amazingly inexpensive dealies, and offered a discount for my first order. Why the hell not, right?

I got a couple of these, called the G Slim Vape Pen. I got one for daubs, and one for "ground material." I do enjoy that ground material, you know. Apparently the part called a "tank" goes bad after a couple months, so you have to keep replacing them. They cost half as much as the entire pen. Ditto the bottom (the part that isn't the tank) because that's the battery. If I stuck with those vape pens, I'd be basically buying a few each year. Lame, but not bad if they worked well. Their tagline should totally be, "Fuck it, they're cheap."

Whelp, I couldn't get either device to vape properly. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. It combusted no matter how hard the draw, how little heat I applied. Combustion. Every time. I had that problem with the launch box, but with practice I got better. That was not the case with these. Did Snoop Dogg steer me wrong? No...that couldn't be.

I contacted Grenco Science. I explained the problem I was having with the vape pens and how vaping isn't supposed to taste like eating lunch out of a used fireplace. See, if you stop smoking and only vape, smoke tastes super rank to you within a short amount of time. I hate smoking now, even joints. Gross...I imagine the way a non-smokers feels about cigs. Besides, if I wanted to combust, all I'd need is a bic. The Grenco rep I talked to basically said yes, the vape pens always combust.

I said, "Well, then they aren't really vape pens, are they?" No, they aren't. But that doesn't stop Grenco from putting Snoop Dogg's name on them and selling them as such.
The rep explained that I'd need to spend at least $90 to get one that wouldn't combust on me--which is two models more expensive than the ones I bought (which I got a few of, since I thought it was my fault they didn't work right).
They assured me that this other unit would be fine. No parts that need to be replaced (except screens, such is life). No combusting. Snoop Dogg endorsed.
Note: Yeah, I'm a grown-ass woman who shouldn't be motivated to purchase something because a famous person put their name on it. But dammit, this isn't some greedy loon. Snoop Dogg isn't an asshole or a fake, so why would he put his name on a sub-par product? If I ever meet him, I'll ask him. The vape also came with a Snoop Dogg album called "Bush." It's a good listen.

Having used this product for a few months, let me say a few things:
--It doesn't combust. So that's great!
--The setup is such that the screen clogs with each draw. Bad.
--It takes over 3 hours to charge, which gives about an hour of use. Bad.
--You can't use it while it's charging. Bad.
--It takes 1.5-3 minutes to heat up all the way, depending on the battery. Bad.
But all that is just luck of the draw, right? After all, it retails for less than $100.

Then after two months, the goddamn mouthpiece (made of cheap plastic) cracked in two places. I wasn't even touching it. It was just hot. But...they told me this wouldn't need extra parts, I worried. What if they didn't sell the part separately? Well, they DO sell the part separately. Because see, they know it's a cheap plastic part that would need to be replaced often. Yet they told me to my face (well, a chat window) that I wouldn't need to keep replacing parts.

To add insult to injury, the goddamn part--which you can't use the fucking thing without--was out of stock. So again, they know that this is a problem, and advised me to buy it anyway. The whole point of talking to customer service first is to find out things the website doesn't say. This was the opposite of customer service--and I've worked in sales and customer service for over 20 years. I can't imagine lying that boldly to a customer about what they should purchase. Seriously, I hope the commission was worth it.

I explained all of this to *another* rep, who didn't appear to give half a fuck about all the money I'd spent with them to STILL not have a working vape. In fact, I was informed that their BEST vape (which costs roughly twice what the last one did) doesn't have any of those problems. Had anyone bothered to tell me that in the beginning, I wouldn't have spent so damn much money on vapes that don't vape and parts that don't last. I would have just bought the good one--that I now cannot afford.

So yeah, I are sad.
Grenco Science can kiss my ass.
Snoop Dogg, we're still cool.
I gotta say though, maybe put some more thought in where you let people put your name. They're making you look like someone who doesn't take weed seriously.
wednes: (Carrie & Mom)
September 6th is my mom's birthday.

It occurred to be recently that I tend to refer to mater in the past tense, even though she's not dead. I wouldn't even say she's "dead to me," because I don't pretend she's dead. I just talk to her slightly less often than I talk to (or toward, more like) people who actually are dead. There are plenty of dead people I think of as better, smarter, cooler, kinder, and less violent and psychotic as mater. For the record, I last spoke with mater in September of 1995. So I guess that's a sort of anniversary as well.

Funnily, I've also been thinking about gaslighting lately (Even saw the film from which we get the term. Jessica Lansbury is 19 years old in it!!). More than the violence, constant emotional and mental abuse, being ordered around like a servant, rarely being allowed out, the gaslighting did a shitload of damage to me. It's another one of those things I didn't realize was SO pervasive until much later. It's also another one of those things that I reacted hugely and horribly to when it happened (often to a very small degree) with other people later on.
If someone tells a story wrong, I'd be outraged even if it was a stupid thing that didn't matter. "His shirt was BLUE, not green! Tell it RIGHT!" Because I grew up knowing that when someone didn't tell the truth about something, they were doing it to make me look bad. That's not actually paranoia when you grow up with one of those "You see what I've got to put up with!" parents always harping on how tough they have it while they're using their kid as a punching bag.

Everything my mom ever said about me was exaggerated to make me look bad, stupid, selfish, greedy, vain, or otherwise terrible. Didn't matter if she was talking to a teacher, a neighbor, her husband, or our extended family. If they were impressed with a drawing, she'd tell them I traced it. If someone praised my good grades, she'd lie and say she called the school and "made" them change my grades. If I lost something, she said I sold it or gave it away, or "let" someone take it. Always. Constantly. And the bitch of it is, there are still people in my family who believe that shit. I'm told my mom's husband actually thinks I invited a band of drug fiends into their house to steal sports memorabilia. Nevermind that I don't think I have a single friend who would knowingly walk into a house with a basement full of swastikkas. But I digress.

It was my mom's birthday. I didn't sit around crying, drinking, watching movies we watched together when I was a kid. I wasn't angry or short with H, or walking around finishing arguments from 30 years ago while the cats just stared at me, confounded. I had a regular day, doing all the stuff I normally do.

So I feel pretty good about that.
Guess we'll see how I do next Mother's Day.
wednes: (Heavenly Creatures)
We all have that one friend who doesn't seem to have any idea of their value. That person with a couple of amazing skills and talents, the one who is always there for you when you need them. The person who tolerates unacceptable romantic partners because they're afraid no one else will want them. The person who stays at a shitty job where they're not appreciated--because who knows what might happen at a new place? The person who believes every terrible things asshats say about them because they sound like things they already fear about themselves. That person.

And you, as their friend, think things like "How can they not know how awesome they are? It's so obvious."

Let me ask you something. How often do you tell this person how amazing you think they are? In fact, how often do you tell anyone how amazing they are--for reals?

Personally, I've been known to say things like, "That guy is an asshole, and you can and should do much better," when I should be saying something more like, "Can you help me understand why you think [X, Y and Z behaviors] are okay. You would never do that to someone, and I'd never do that to you. So why is it okay for him?"

I say things like, "Don't you know how amazing you are?" I could be far more specific, like "You've always made time for me when I needed to blather on about nothing, you listen without judgment, you always make me feel listened to and cared for."

Kids, I don't think most of us know our true value. Part of that is from fucked up parenting, a lifetime of being bullied or shamed, mental and emotional issues, or just being surrounded by assholes. But the result of us not knowing our value doesn't just make our lives worse--it whispers in our ear that no one cares what we think anyway.

We don't tell each other the truth about how we feel for a variety of reasons I won't bother to list here. But fear--the fear that we'll be mocked, that no one will care what we have to say, that we'll sound stupid--that's one of the big ones. We're afraid of how we might look to others, so we keep our heads down and our mouths shut about our feelings--even our feelings for good friends. As I've said many times--I'm really good at telling people what I THINK, but what I FEEL is mostly saved for close friends.

So I'm making it a point to tell people not just that I love them, but why. I want the people in my life to know all the ways they impress me. They should know how much they have meant to me over the years, and how much they continue to mean today. I want valuable people to know their value. Or at the very least--to have told them how valuable they are to me. I mean, you can give people information but you can't make them believe it.

Anybody interested in joining me as I embark on what could end up a journey into embarrassment and silliness? This week, pick out a few people and tell them everything about them that you find amazing. It'll make them feel good, and probably you'll end up feeling good too.

Kindness: It's gluten free, low in calories, organic, and readily available.
wednes: (Dancing Hurley)
We haven't heard anything else from Nightmare Client since we got that ridiculous letter from his rented legal firm. While that may seem like good news, it worries me.

Some facts:

--Nightmare Client is sure I'm responsible for all of his bad Amazon reviews, and therefore his lack of sales.

--I am not responsible for any, and Amazon can verify this if they so choose.

--As of the 13th of this month, the 21-day deadline sent by the lawyers will be up. As such, Nightmare Client will realize he's powerless in this situation.

I worry that once he realizes this, he will be driven even more insane. While he hasn't made direct threats of violence, it's obvious that he's fuckin' nuts. The stuff we've been sent via Email is delusional to the point of actual psychosis.

NC also knows things about us, like H's work schedule and how often I'm here alone.

We don't have room for a dog (I've been wanting one for a while now) and H won't even discuss having a gun in the house. I very much see his point, and am mostly in agreement. I have a taser, which is meant to discourage people from bothering me. I imagine it would be useless against someone who broke in here with the express purpose of doing me physical harm. And I'm telling you all--I wouldn't put that past this guy for a second. As I keep saying, he sounds deluded to me.

So the question is: How do I keep myself safe from this deranged maniac?
I seriously need ideas.
wednes: (Shaun/Beatin')
I finally, at long last, have my proper medication in hand after being more than two weeks without it. As of last night though, my psyche was pretty much broken. I was within a breath of telling H to "shut the fuck up and stay away from me," which is simply not how we speak to each other. But my brain was broken.

In weirdness news, I learned that there's a way to report people who steal your Tweets. One wouldn't think stealing Tweets would be a thing, since there's a simple button that lets you retweet. But for a few months now, there's a chick who's been copy/pasting my tweets, putting her initials in front--basically posting Tweets that look like she's telling me something I just said. But on her feed it looks like it's her own content. Why would anyone do this, aside from general fuckery? I do not know.
So today, after this person stole and copy/pasted my tweet about (of all things) reporting stolen tweets, I told her that I reported her. She responded as if she had no idea it was unethical to copy/paste other people's Tweets. She seemed to think that because she tagged me in "her" Tweets, that she was giving me credit.

I had to SMH and laugh, because I have a book client right now who I've literally spent hours with, trying to explain Twitter. But they still don't understand it. I realize that all social media sites have their own idiosyncratic elements that have a learning curve. But really?

Blue Cross Blue Shield can fuck right off, BTW. They decided to stop covering something I need. So instead of it costing $5 a month, the new "uninsured" price is $235 a month. Needless to say, that means I won't be getting it. I can almost understand why they wouldn't cover it. But I cannot understand how concentrated hydrocortisone could possibly cost that much. Fucking pharma-bros, all of them! I'm told that in other parts of the world, it's illegal to make a profit on medical supplies. Seems like common sense, right? Another way the US of A is teh oligarchy. Maybe everyone should shut the fuck up and stay away from me, at least until I feel more like my usual charming self.

Indian Food

Jan. 5th, 2016 12:37 pm
wednes: (MamaCass)
I had Indian food for the first time last night.

Paneer with spinach and a seafood dish in a spicy sauce with yogurt and nuts. Also, garlic paneer. H had paneer as well and a citrusy tomato sauce. It was really spicy. Mine was supposed to be "medium" but I also found it intensely spicy.

Here's the thing.
I need to learn to make--at the very least, paneer and that sauce, which is called "korma" sauce. I'm guessing that this will require a bunch of specialized shopping, since I doubt I have any of the spices I need onhand. Well, garlic. Always garlic.

How did a whole nationality of cuisine this awesome escape me for my whole life up to this point?

In other news, I went to the doc yesterday after not going for almost a year. The new doc is actually pretty awesome. My numbers were slightly worse than last year, which stands to reason since I was out of a few meds and have been taking abysmal care of myself since falling into a crazy depression. I got a referral for a therapist, and they also want me to have an EKG stress test thingy. I don't know why provoking my heart is a good idea, but I'm not a doctor. I'm also behind for a mammogram, so I probably should call back and get a referral for that too.

I need to get one of those lights for seasonal affective disorder. I was hoping my insurance would cover it, but no such luck. They're surprisingly costly. Fie!


Aug. 5th, 2015 11:01 pm
wednes: (Pot meets Kettle)
Think I'll address some of the stupidity I'm seeing on the internets here. It allows me to get it off my ample chest without having to interact with idiots. Here goes:

--If you're opposed to abortion because you're "sick of women abdicating their responsibilities" you've just admitted that you think raising a child for 18 years is a suitable punishment for the terrible crime of having sex. Go fuck yourself.

--If you think that, and don't support harsh crimes (like jail and forfeiture) for men who sire children and then are not involved fathers who support their children financially, you've just admitted that you're punishing women for sex--but not men. Go fuck yourself.

--If you think women should be forced to bring embryos or foetuses to term, but then vote for people who slash education, SNAP, WIC, oppose the ACA, or accuse mothers of being "welfare queens," you are not pro-life. You're pro-foisting-your-hangups on others. Go fuck yourself.

--No one has suggested that gun control will end all gun crimes forever. Nobody is that stupid. If you have reduced the gun-control argument to that, you're purposely twisting the issue. Go fuck yourself.

--Guns are not a magical amulet that prevents harm from befalling you--which I'm sorry to say that people have essentially said to me. "I need guns, because only guns can defend blah blah blah." Statistically, having a gun makes you more likely to be shot...either by yourself or someone in your household. Still want one--be my guest. But let's not pretend that those who prefer not to are asking to have violence done to them.

--Guns can and do go off when dropped. Sorry gun fans, there are many documented cases. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but drop safety standards only apply to handguns anyway. Most rifles, shotguns, and the like are not subject to drop-tests as a matter of law.

--Jade Helm 15 is not a plot by the government to take over the South and institute martial law. But even if it were--aren't a lot of you pro-fire-power types longing for martial law anyway?

--Even if Jade Helm 15 was a plot to take over the south, you and a couple of buddies in camo pants aren't going to stop the US Army Special Forces, the Navy Seals, or any other specialized military group. You're kidding yourselves.

--Hitting your kid out of anger is indeed abusive. It's not "discipline" because it doesn't teach anything except 'watch out or you'll get hit again'. Discipline is teaching someone what acceptable behavior is. Hitting is punishment, which some do think is a valid parenting option, but it doesn't teach anyone a goddamn thing--except maybe "one or more of my parents is violent and unstable." Not sure if what you're doing to a kid is abuse? Ask yourself, "Would I do this to an adult in a public place? If I did, could I be arrested?" If you answered No to the first question and/or Yes to the second--that's abuse.

Wow, I feel so much better now.
wednes: (Handfasting)
I live a life rich in anxiety, which is not a surprise to anyone who knows me. My main way of dealing with anxiety is to stay the hell at home and not go out into the big, scary world unless I have to. So if you've seen me socially outside my home--that means that I probably love the hell out of you. It also means that if I've inexplicably dashed away from a planned gathering, that it has nothing to do with you.

Anxiety. One of the things I'm most anxious about is that something bad will happen to H. He walks a long way to take the bus to work, and has been hassled by cops as to why he is out at night, where he's going, etc. I used to stand outside the video store where I worked waiting for cabs for upwards of an hour without incident--but when H was waiting with me we'd be questioned regularly. We were even pulled over in a cab once.

So, I occasionally call H at work, just to say Hey and to quell my anxiety. I'm aware that this is lame, and could be perceived as needy and controlling. H is cool with it.

Last week, I called H after waking up from a dream that he was shot in a robbery at his work. Not out of the question--especially since he's there alone during the overnight shift. So yeah, I called just to make myself feel better. The phone rang and rang, but he didn't answer. Doing my best to stay calm, I waited three minutes and then called back. Again, no answer.

I wanted to call the cops, explain the situation (leaving out the dream and some of my own ridiculousness) and just ask them to check in and make sure everything was okay. But I didn't.
See, H is a black guy who stands over 6 feet tall. Statistically, this is the scariest type of person in America. I then envisioned multiple circumstances by which H could be "accidentally" shot by "helpful" cops who thought he was robbing the place. This week, we learned that some cops think it's okay to beat the shit out of people for being "arrogant," or not properly kissing the asses of cops as they hassle us. If anything bad happened to H because I asked the cops for help, I couldn't live with myself. Seriously. I'd have to be hospitalized to prevent my own suicide after something like that. No lie.

It occurs to me how incredibly fucked up it is that I should be afraid to call the cops, because it seems that being helped and being killed or beaten are roughly equally likely in some circumstances. People like to pretend that the cops only kill people who are criminals, or who are threatening their lives. But we know better now. The proliferation of cameras on phones, on dashes, or in businesses have clearly proven that you can be standing around near a slice of pizza, making a minor traffic error, or just walking down the street and be murdered for the crime of looking scary, making someone uncomfortable, or standing up for your own dignity.

Nutzo police are not the norm in Ann Arbor. But they did murder a mentally ill woman last summer when a relative called the cops to help calm her down. Apparently 2 (or 3, I forget now) grown men couldn't take down a mentally ill woman with a kitchen knife in any other way except shooting her in the head. So yeah, why take chances?

No point to this story, I guess.
H was actually vacuuming the floor and didn't hear the phone ring.
He was fine...probably because I didn't call the cops for help after all.


May. 18th, 2015 12:11 pm
wednes: (Doctor Trust Me)
Behind on work, which is not really a surprise. Computer issues, health stuff going on, depression still not lifting.

Woke up today to find the elevator scene from The my pants.
And if that's TMI, you obviously haven't been through middle-school sex ed yet and probably shouldn't be reading this blog. It's full of fucking swears.

Cut for Game of Thrones and Mad Men spoilers )
wednes: (Go Crazy?)
For anyone keeping track on whether or not I'll be taking Latuda--the new med my doc prescribed for me--I'm not. I was a little nervous about the side-effects, like causing crazy mania. H thought I should take it, because the doctor said so. I explained that psyche meds don't really work like that. It's not like a blood pressure med--where you can die if you don't take it. Anyway, I eventually agreed to give it a try.

Then I found out that it's $90 a month.
So I'm not gonna take it after all.
Funny thing is, $90 a month is actually very cheap for a non-generic psyche med. Personally, I know very few people who live with bi-polar disorder, clinical depression, or schizophrenia (all ailments Latuda is supposed to help with) who are financially solvent enough that a sudden $90 a month expense wouldn't cripple them. Of course, if I didn't have insurance it would be over $300 a month. Are there really people, even sane people, who can afford a sudden expense like that? That's almost half our rent.

In other news, I'm watching the crap out of House of Cards on Netflix. When we got the free Apple TV, I decided it would be neat to treat us to Netflix, since it's only $8 a month. It's already paid for itself over On Demand rentals. Plus I saw "It's Such a Beautiful Day" which is a cartoon that will totally make you cry.
House of Cards is insane, and much more murderous than I was expecting.

Still looking for a new gig. If you know anyone who needs a content creator, editor, English or writing tutor, or childcare giver for a kid older than 7--do let me know.
wednes: (Count Thumps Edward)
On the advice of the internets and H, I finally went to the goddamn doctor to talk about the goddamn depression that's been plaguing me all goddamn winter. It goddamn helped, a little. They suggested all sorts of pills, including many that I've tried before: Wellbutrin (makes me manic), Abilify (gives me crazy high blood sugar), Zyprexa (causes weight gain), and Latuda. That one is new, and is an anti-psychotic used for both schizophrenia and bi-polar. If I can afford it, I'm gonna give it a whirl. Because it's new, it won't be available as a generic. So I have no idea how much my insurance will cover and what the copay will be. Guess I'll find out soon enough.
It's always scary to take a new med though, I really super don't want to get manic.

Work is still tenuous. Still writing SEO and sex articles, and a bunch of new seasons are starting up for Geekbinge reviews. I was *holds up finger and thumb* THIS close to giving up 1-2 midseason shows so I'd have time to write more articles for the goddamn place that just fired all their goddamn freelancers. So very glad I dragged my feet on that one. I'd have been seriously kicking myself.

I did learn a valuable lesson about putting up with crap. Never again will I tolerate someone editing my author pic without my permission. Nor will I, for fuck's sake, tolerate an editor changing my byline without my say so. Can you even imagine changing someone's name without even telling them. "Wednesday Lee"?!? What the ever loving fuck?!?

Still looking for another writing gig. It's been almost 2 weeks, which I know is not a long time in the grand scheme of job searching. But damn, I'm ready to get back into it. I do have a few irons in a few fires, so we'll see what ends up bursting into flames, I guess.


Jan. 8th, 2015 06:25 am
wednes: (Go Crazy?)
You know how sometimes things start going so well that you become utterly assured that your entire world is about to go up in flames? Things have been going pretty well lately. Nothing major, but enough has been going right that I feel like I've actually got a handle on this writing-for-a-living business. Translating that, it means that taking a chance on myself and the idea that I might actually have some talent and marketable skill at this basically goes against everything I was raised to believe.

Even more recently, things have been going so well in one particular area that I'm wondering if I'm not falling into some kind of John Grisham situation. I feel valued, appreciated, and fairly (if not overly) compensated for what I'm doing. So naturally, I feel like Gene Hackman is going to suddenly show up to let me know that they're all onto me, the jig is up, and that I'm not fooling anyone.

Hopefully everything will be ready for the Kickstarter to go live on Saturday. I'm still waiting to get bio stuff from our artist.'s your week going?

In case you're interested, here are some articles of mine that are doing well. Weirdly, the share counts appear much lower than they are.

60 Modern Reads You Should Get to Before Age 30. Um, because the target audience is millenials.

Tom Mison of FOX's Sleepy Hollow: The TV hero we never saw coming.

A Friend Request from My High School Bully? WTF Do I do Now?

Why Gotham's Penguin is our fave new TV villain

10 Reasons Porn is Good for You.

How Society Benefits from Access to Pornography.
wednes: (Sad)
I was avoiding the internets this evening because I didn't want to be in a bad mood. Monday & Tuesday are the nights I hang out with H. But then Ryan called to tell me the tragic news that Robin Williams had not just died--he'd committed suicide. I knew that he'd taken some questionable movie roles lately, and I heard that he had relapsed. To me, drug addiction is almost synonymous with mental illness--mainly because I don't know any alcoholics or addicts who aren't also obviously diagnosable.
This is tremendously sad news.

We like to think of comedians as being happy people. But as I've said many times in this blog, good acting and clever humor come from insight. Insight can be terribly exhausting emotionally. Understanding humans can lead to all sorts of unpleasantness, from fear to sadness to frustration and anguish. Even if you just want to help all of humanity, the scope of it all can be crushing.

Depression, when left untreated (or ineffectively treated, which is way common), has a mortality rate of about 15% between suicide and fatal substance abuse. Bi-polar disorder has a lower suicide rate, mainly because it's offset by a homicide rate of almost 10%. Again, this is for people who are not treated.

The top two reasons people don't get help when they clearly need it?
1. Access. ie: I can't afford it / don't know where to go.
2. I'm "not crazy."

This idea that you don't need mental health care unless you're in a murderous rage, are constantly hallucinating, or have a dual personality? I don't know where the hell it came from, but it needs to go far, far away. The actual signs that you might need mental help may include:
1. Feeling like everything is too difficult, for days on end.
2. Not seeing the point of anything, for weeks at a time.
3. Feeling angry enough to insult or judge every person you meet--more often than not.
4. Unshakable sadness, anger, hopelessness, or fear regardless of the actual shape your life is in. Even if things aren't going well, outright hopelessness is a sign that something is wrong.
5. Unable to sleep properly, eat regularly, or focus on something for more than half an hour--for days at a time.
6. Feeling like people only pretend to like you out of obligation.
7. Feeling like you never do anything right, or are a burden to everyone.
8. Buying things you can't afford, followed by crushing guilt over it.
9. An inability to complete things that you start, often.

Notice that a lot of these have to do with feelings. When people feel some way that's inconvenient to other people, they're often told shitty things like "suck it up" or "everyone has problems" leaving the depressed person to feel even shittier. Feelings are serious. They're why we do most of the things we aren't absolutely obligated to do. Kids, you've GOT to pay attention to how you feel, and if you feel sad, angry, helpless or hopeless for longer than a few days--for fuck's sake, talk it out with someone. There are hotlines, there are friends. Honestly, if you stopped 3 strangers on the street and said you were so depressed you wanted to die--I bet one of them would do something to help you. That's how people are. When we can, we love to help others. Really.

As some of you know, I found out a few months ago that an old boyfriend of mine killed himself. He was a messed up guy, which you can tell because I dated him and that was my pattern back then.
Even when this happens to someone you don't talk to anymore, there's a tremendous sense of guilt, of helplessness, of wishing you could have said or done something to help. When it comes to depression and suicide, sometimes a few kind words really do make a life or death difference. Sometimes, getting someone through one bad day can keep them from considering suicide ever again. It's infuriating to hear about a suicide, because it's so goddamn preventable--if only you'd known, right?

I thought about suicide a lot as a kid and a teenager, a college student, and a few times after that. My attempts were half-hearted, mostly to demonstrate to myself that I did have some small modicum of control over my life--in that I was choosing to stay alive. Not everyone is able to do that. Not everyone has that support structure. Even when they do, sometimes that isn't enough. Even a few hours alone can be enough time for a severely depressed person to spiral into darkness they can't escape from.

When I feel particularly helpless, like I do today, I try to remember what I actually do to help people with mental illness. I think that writing honestly about depression and mania, about the impact that abuse has on people, and about how we all influence the behavior and feelings of others is tremendously important. A Stabbing for Sadie, while not an autobiography, certainly discusses things that I've dealt with myself. Kiss Me Like You Love Me shows us how vulnerable people can be corrupted by a life that's devoid of compassion--with horrific results. I really hope that when people read what I have to say, that they'll learn something about mental illness, and what it's like for people who live with it. If my words lead even one person to be more compassionate, I'd feel damn proud of that.

Jim Carrey once said that he wished everyone could be rich and famous, so they could see that wasn't the answer. When I hear about people like Owen Wilson attempting suicide, or Philip Seymour Hoffmann overdosing, or today's awful tragedy, I have to believe Jim Carrey is right.
wednes: (Work)
Feeling pretty awesome right now.
Not so much because I'm doing great things, but because I'm trying my very best to do great things.

I feel better physically when I exercise. Instead of just knowing that and making excuses for why I'm not doing it--I'm doing it and feeling it and it's all good.

Ditto money making, being awake when the sun is out, cooking proper food daily, and a few other things that are making me feel utterly amazing.

Also spending much less time on the internet, stopped with the click-bait and "news" articles meant mainly to enrage rather than inform.

In the back of my mind, I'm wondering what emotional tragedy or anxiety ridden thing will happen to throw a spanner in the works.
For now though, it's all pretty good.


Jul. 6th, 2014 05:05 am
wednes: (Sow the Seed)
I need to do something else.
But I don't know what.

I need to change...something.
Not exactly sure what that might be.

More often than not, I feel mentally and physically like crap. Sore, stiff, tired, stressed...I don't know. The docs don't know, but have suggested a diet pill which makes me think I need to look for a new doctor.
Prescribing stimulants to someone with bi-polar disorder is what a moron would do.
wednes: (Vyv ;-()
Most of you who know me are aware that my initial reaction to sad things is to feel angry. Much more familiar and comfortable. So when I found out that an old ex-boyfriend of mine killed himself, I was pretty pissed. First of all, he had kids who needed him and an ex who, as far as I could tell, was allergic to managing her own life. Secondly, he wasn't dying or in constant pain--which makes killing yourself a cowardly move. Third, he had plenty of judgemental and shitty things to say about me when we were together and I was horribly depressed and suicidal.

One might think I should have more compassion for him, especially given my own suicide attempts. But I don't. I can't. All I can think is Fuck you, you were surrounded by people who wanted to help you and you didn't even try.

I was living with this dude when I began the draft for what eventually became The Finster Effect. He's actually the character Blue LeRoy in that book, as well as Count Drunkula in A Stabbing for Sadie. He never knew it though, that's actually what I was trying to catch up with him to tell him. Procrastination never pays, kids!

Maybe I'm still angry because this guy was drunk, mean, and afraid to leave the apartment without a gun. He carried a .357 in his lunch pail. Seriously. Once, he hit me in the face because I told him if he offered his 10-year-old son drugs again that I was calling the cops. I went inpatient psyche when I lived with him--because I'm not exactly the picture of mental health myself. After we broke up, I had another fucked up relationship that ended pretty badly. Three years after that, I met H and it all came together.

I'm not surprised that he is dead--though I did think it would be from drinking or drunken shenanigans than anything pro-active. His son gave me the news, so I didn't want to ask for details. I'd be surprised to learn that it wasn't a gun-death. His son has depression as well, and I really, really hope he's able to find his way through it. That's the kind of history that should never repeat itself.

I don't even want to consider what it says about me that my overriding emotion here is that I'm glad I got the hell away. How gross is it that outliving someone should be seen as some sort of triumph? My life is far from perfect, and my choices far from flawless--but I am grateful to have a nice life that's full of love. I need to remember that more when I'm having bitchy little fits over shit that doesn't fucking matter.
wednes: (Wednes Poison)
I don't leave the house much since I quit Ye Olde Day-Jobbe. When I say "not much" I mean pretty much never. Before today, when I went to the doctor, I hadn't left the house in roughly one month. That's crazy. Crazy. Even thought I know it sounds bizarre and unhealthy, I don't feel particularly inspired to make any changes on that front. Then I want to wonder why that is. People suck, going out costs money, and everyone can shut up. Yeah, that's why.

Even though I'm well aware that part of good health is luck, access, and a few other things people can't control--I feel pretty good being told that I'm healthy enough to omit some medication. They told me that last time too, so I'm slowly stopping drugs for everything that isn't bi-polar disorder. I've pretty much resigned myself to those--unless H dies. Then it'll be some kind of crazy-pants free-for-all. So yeah, HAES wins again.
And for the first time ever, when I said HAES to the nurse, she nodded like she actually knew what I was talking about. I wasn't sure she did though, so I started to ask her. She motioned to her full hips and round belly and said "Yes, I'm familiar with that philosophy." Good deal, since I almost had to go to the clinic that has the terrible nurses.

Getting ready to start the new audiobooks. We're using Audible/ACX for The Finster Effect, and then my audio guy and I are doing new complete audiobooks of S4S and KMLYLM--also through Audible. I'm stoked.

I wanted to try that Wen shampoo that's supposed to be awesome. However, $30 a month for shampoo is Right Out. So I'm trying a Walgreens knock-off Wen, now that it has finally arrived. Report to follow. I'm hoping I can continue to treat my hair like complete crap, while still letting it grow out. If I want to fulfill my dream of having long, grey hair, I should probably start conditioning now. I do notice than Wen says to use 4 giant handfuls of their product on my hair, whereas the knock-off stuff says just one handful.

Oh, and in case you missed the news, I broke down and got a Twitter. @WednesFri is me. I still don't know if Twitter is case-sensitive. I dig the concept of just blathering online to celebs like I would to my friends. A responsible person might only do that kind of thing while sober--but I think we all know better than to think *I* will do that. Brian Keene retweeted me yesterday. There seem to be a lot of tweeters who make it their mission to get retweeted by famous people. If I were famous, I would never EVER retweet anyone who asked. But the mere fact that I have an opinion on this already makes me look like kind of a tool.
wednes: (Wut?  JoJo)
Like many cats, JoJo hates closed doors. Doesn't matter what's behind said door--he wants in. He's especially fond of running into the bedroom when we open the door. He flings himself on the bed and rolls around like he owns the place. It's pretty cute.
JoJo (whose full name is Joey JoJo Junior Shabadoo) also does a thing where he climbs up on my lap, and flops over so I have to hold him like he's a baby. Because I'm a childless woman in my 40's, I joke with him (and any humans in the room) that he shouldn't do that--because it makes me look crazy. I might as well be wearing a wedding dress and rocking my cat-baby to sleep, right?

The more I think about it though, it's not that crazy.
In fact, of all the people I know who post excessively about their cats at least 2/3 of them are men. Men who complain about not being in relationships--posting pics of their cats, funny stories about their cats, boringly ordinary stories about their cats, LOLcat-style memes, and lengthy descriptions of how they choose their cat food and select cat toys. I can't tell if it's boring or hilarious. I suppose it can be two things.

People whine about how technology keeps us from truly interacting with each other. It doesn't. It's probably cats. And it's not out of necessity. It's because humans tend to suck, and cats tend toward awesomeness.
wednes: (Vyv ;-()
Some of you may remember that I had a pretty big freak out during H's open enrollment last November. H has been at his current gig for over 15 years and is not eligible for any more raises as he is "topped out." We didn't mind so much, because our biggest expenses were rent and my medical stuff. BCBS is supposed to be like winning the lottery of insurances.

BCBS used to offer us a decent plan. As long as a doc confirmed that I "really needed" something, I got it. That's how I finally got the mental, emotional, and medical help I needed. It's how I learned about my ulcers, my kidney-stones, and my random internal bleeding. It's also how I finally got the sleep study and CPAP I'd clearly needed since childhood.

I have memories of being 5 or 6 years old and not even being able to run for the school bus. I was tired my whole life. Because I was in the midst of such a warm wonderful family (sarcasm, dammit) I was constantly told I was "just lazy." I grew up thinking everyone felt like me, shitty and tired, but they pulled themselves out of it--and I didn't because I was SO lazy. When our appalling eating habits also made me fat, and that fat was then exacerbated by nearly a decade in the fast food industry--my body, and my credit were both pretty much ruined by the time I was 25. Yeah, there's more to that...but I digress.

It wasn't until I met H, and introduced a steady stream of love and support (and okay, income--not a lot of money, but I wasn't at risk of homelessness anymore) into life that it got any better. Having health insurance was a fucking godsend. Finally finding a doctor who didn't dismiss my rampant night terrors and hallucinations as "probably from smoking marijuana" (or saying it's brain damage and then not doing anything about it) and got me a damn sleep study. Turns out, I was damn near insane from lack of sleep, as I stopped breathing at least 80 times an hour.

I have the kind of apena that is hereditary. I've always had it, as has much of my family. Losing 200 pounds wouldn't make it go away. Even if it did, I'll probably need a good night's sleep before that happens. I've lost a bunch of weight since I got the CPAP, just because I'm awake and have energy.

Anyway, H's work used to offer 3 tiers of insurance: basic, medium, and fancy-pants. We couldn't afford the fancy-pants, but needed more than the basic.
They used to offer 3 plans: employee, employee plus spouse, and family.
We have no kids, so our choice was obvious.
FF to last year. They cancelled the medium plan, and canceled employee plus spouse. I worried that we'd have to cancel cable/internet/and one of our phones, which I didn't like, just to keep the insurance. I need the internet and cable to work. Turns out, that still wouldn't have been enough scrimping. We'd have needed to find a cheaper apartment, which would have meant an even worse neighborhood and MUCH farther for H to commute. Remember, we don't drive.

We have basic insurance and are paying for a whole family even though there are only two of us. I learned today that since the insurance changed in January, they've been charging me over $100 a month to rent the CPAP. So now I have a bill for almost $700 that I can't remotely pay. AND since I won't be able to pay any further bills, I have to give the fucking thing back.

And to be perfectly honest, it's making me cry like a little kid.
Pretty sure my mom was in the room the last time I felt this helpless...
wednes: (Stabby Rage)
I am feeling better.

Had a work meeting with my boss (at my own behest). It was open, honest, and I left feeling much better than I did when I went in.

Meds seem to be evening out.

Got a nibble on a gig making those silly lists that people pass around on Facebook. The site looks like it's more pictures than words--and I frankly find those to be a pain in the ass. Still I'm gonna look it over and see if it's something I'll want to do. If the pay is okay, I could certainly create some funny lists. I'm the Egg McMuffin of pop culture and tend to be witty as fuck.
And I've always wanted to be professionally opinionated.

The sushi delivery place will be the end of me. If I had it, I could spend hundreds of dollars a week there. So much eel...

Mark was here for lunch today. Hamburger Pie.

Well into the Matt Smith Doctor Whos (Ha! I almost wrote "Doctor Whose" which would be laughably ungrammatical.) They're pretty good. I asked H if the next two-parter was going to be emotionally draining--you know how they can kick your ass sometimes? He said I don't think so, no. Right. Because at the end of the two-parter Spoiler here, obiviously )

And lastly, I got a haircut. I had all the bleached hair cut off. My hair was normal brown for about 4 days. Now, not so much.

The blue is a lot of fun. And with just the one color, it's not really that weird. Besides, as a writer, I get to be eccentric even though I'm not rich. With that in mind:

There's a wee bit of pink as well.
wednes: (Go Crazy?)
"I find it to be my biggest struggle--to figure out how to be medicated enough to function but still have some semblance of my personality, and access to my insanity for when I need to write something. Insanity is a door, and I can't have it completely closed and locked for fear of being trapped in normalcy. THAT would be FAR scarier than anything my illness could dish out."

--Me, on how I'm actually getting some shit done today for the first time in about 2 weeks.

For those of you dying to see a pic of my undead protege,
I'm just gonna leave this here.
wednes: (Elephant on Trampoline)
Picked up an extra shift at the day-job this week to cover for someone attending a funeral. What am I gonna say? No, I don't feel like it even though my plan was to stay home, relax and dick around on the computer? Possibly, but I didn't. I could use the scratch. I need to order new magnet bracelets since my good one broke (after over a decade) and my pretty ones aren't really strong enough. I got another pretty one that is stronger, and a super-dooper-uber-strong one that will top out at around 4000 gauss. Mmmmm...gauss. I realize that I am a great believer in a few medical things, like magnets and EMDR, that a lot of people assume are bunk.
Magnets, for example, are sold as being miracle cures. They aren't. They don't lower your blood pressure, stress level, or give you an enhanced state of being. But they have helped me through some awful pains. I first used them to take down the swelling in an abcessed molar. If you've never had the displeasure, it's like a throbbing kidney stone in your mouth. Magnets did the trick--I didn't even care how absurd they looked taped to my face. These days, they curb the carpal/cubital tunnel pain.

The "ENTER" key on my keyboard at work sticks terribly.
I find it irksome.

This weekend I'm hanging out with my new buddy, a little kid I'll refer to as G-man. G-man is the child of a chick I went to college with. His family is Mormon. He is a certified genius and a huge fan of all things horror. He came out to Ann Arbor a while back to record a short story for me--and was great. I think he's 9, though he might be 10. Anyway, he's coming over on Saturday and sleeping over in H's office. We're gonna talk horror, maybe record some more fiction, and watch whatever horror I have that is swear-free and hopefully won't scar the kid for life. I'm thinking of showing him Night of the Living Bread, maybe a few original Twilight Zone eps, and either the original Dracula or Frankenstein.

I'm also taking suggestions on stuff that is quality horror but can still be shown to a kid with religious parents. The original JAWS should be fine if he hasn't already seen it. Apparently, he loves megalodons.

Still chipping away at this med situation. Doubling my dosage tonight of the Celexa. Here's hoping it won't make me more tired than I already am. My appointment with my regular doc and psyche doc together is supposed to be next Thursday, but I just found out I have to work. I'm hoping I can get that figured out, since I can't get another refill until I see both docs together. I do feel a lot less tense, angry, and worried about stuff. But I'm tired and not getting very much work done. It's so hard finding a balance...

And finally, this Friday the 13th is the giant, enormo, FREE Kindle giveaway for A Stabbing for Sadie. ONE DAY ONLY, BITCHES! I don't have H's fly graphic with me at work, but please do tell everyone you've ever known. Graphic will be up by tomorrow. Honest.
wednes: (Go Crazy?)
New Meds are New, in picture form )


Mar. 22nd, 2012 07:26 pm
wednes: (Go Crazy?)
I'm going to try a low dose of a mild anti-depressant.

I feel a bunch of different ways about it.
wednes: (Zombie B&W)
Got an appointment with the psyche doctor tomorrow.
Let's hope we can get somewhere.

Be sure to check out my ZZN article about how The Walking Dead has jumped the shark. And please, post some sort of angry comment that will incite discussion. I was hoping there'd be an epic flame war by now. No dice...

This vid is hilarious if you've not yet had the pleasure.
All the other Mitt Romneys are just masturbating.

I keep trying to take a step back from politics, but dammit. The shit is hitting the fan out there. Democrat offices being fire bombed? Tennessee wanting to publish the names and vital stats of women seeking abortions? That's obscene. How can anyone deny that there is a war on women? Oh sorry--not ALL women, just those dirty sluts who want to have sex more often than they want to go through childbirth.

We finished season three of Doctor Who last night, then did the Christmas special. Now all that Saxxon stuff I've been seeing at etsy makes sense. Gonna drop a metric fuckton of money at Thinkgeek pretty soon, methinks.
wednes: (Lecter/rude)
There were no cartoons last Sunday night, and we don't give a rat's ass about football. There have been a lot of ads On Demand for Lenny, starring the great Dustin Hoffman, and the chick who played Miss Tessmacher. I had never seen it, and I know very little about Lenny, except that he was a vulgar comedian who got arrested a lot. I presumed it was due to anti-establishment talk--the sort of thing that might get you pepper-sprayed today if you said it outside. There was some of that. But it's embarrassing to remember that there was a time in America when you could be arrested simply for saying a word. He was arrested a bunch of times, just for dirty talking in adult establishments. His opening act was a hooker for chrissake! It's not as if there were children there. Plus, he was kind of angry and nuts. So I relate.

The movie paints Bruce as troubled but desperately trying to do right. Hoffman plays him as kinda nuts, at least bi-polar if not schizophrenic. I am of the opinion that Dustin Hoffman is fucking amazing and one of the greatest actors of our time. As a kid, Little Big Man was deeply moving. Marathon Man is a horror/thriller classic. Kramer versus Kramer made me cry and cry. This movie is another masterpiece. An incredibly engrossing watch, and I'm still thinking about it days later.

Near the end, Bruce is trying to appeal to the judge in his anti-obscenity case. He could have literally gone to prison for telling dirty jokes. Lenny doesn't believe the judge is a bad guy. He also believes in his work, that is has value, that it isn't just profanity for the sake of it. He's right, for the most part. When he's yelling Can't we just talk about it--like people?!? and Please, don't take my words! it kind of fucked me up. I'm super emotional and precarious about the new book right now, so it was well-timed for that sort of thing. Drug deaths are always frustratingly sad, and his seemed totally avoidable. In the movie at least, Lenny Bruce is portrayed as just the type of guy who could be helped with mental health intervention. He just wouldn't have known or believed that in his time. Being an outsider meant not trusting anybody, and given how he was treated just for breaking a few social mores, I can't say that I blame him. Being that angry all the time really takes it out of you. I've been feeling it lately, so again, well-timed.

So yeah, I'm downloading some of his stuff to check out. And some Carlin too while I'm at it.

I'm planning to get a bunch more writing and marketing stuff today. Then I'll look for some new jobs to apply for when I get home. I have to haul my CPAP machine over to the supply place so they can read the SD Card to prove I'm using it. I don't know why I can't just bring the card, but they are lame about it. Plus I'll find out what, if anything, my new insurance will cover on the CPAP since it's nowhere near paid for. That should be fun. I'm also gonna check out a movie called Deliver Us From Evil, which I'm going in to basically cold.
wednes: (Stephen King)
I figured that since Stephe--excuse me, Richard Bachman's book/novella, Rage is no longer in print, that it wouldn't chafe any balls for me to download it as a pdf, and reformat it for my shiny new Kindle. So I did. Like most sad freaks with brains, I read Mr King voraciously as a kid ("kid" in this case, meaning age 10 thru getting the hell out of that house at 17, and then through my 20's). I loved the short stories in particular, and indeed went through multiple copies of both Night Shift and Skeleton Crew (that had the same terrifying monkey on the front that my Grandpa had in his basement). King is the guy who first taught me about the effectiveness of different POV's. Personally, I find that 1st person is the only POV I can write convincingly, the only truthy option for me. King taught me tons about how to craft a story, how to scare people, how to keep things hidden from the reader while looking like you're baring it all. And this was years before he wrote Danse Macabre and On Writing. He took horror seriously, in a way that few others did. He was, and is, a fucking genius. I want to nut-punch these asshats who bitch that King is no good anymore the same way drunk dickheads in their 20's complain that The Simpsons just aren't as funny as it was when it started--you know, before they were even in the womb. If you deny the genius of, or the effect that Stephen King has had on horror, and all literature, then you're either functionally illiterate, or a total asshat.

I finished re-re reading RAGE about an hour ago. I intended to sit right down and write this, but having a houseguest makes every non-bathroom task take thrice as long as it should. I honestly believe that RAGE is King's best and most truthful book. My short story, Whitman, I ain't is loosely based on it. And while I didn't realize it until recently, my first novel, A Stabbing for Sadie is really just a novel-length attempt to capture the feel and style of Charlie Decker and his Fantastical Adventure in Getting it on.

It pains and saddens me that King wanted RAGE out of print. I'm aware that at least 2 kids who shot up 2 different schools had copies of this book when their rooms were searched. Searching a kid's room and taking guesses as to why he did what he did is something Decker would have taken profound exception to. I understand fully how potent the power of a book can be. I know that some of the books I've read have changed my life and the way I live it. And I'm pretty sure there are books that have affected me so subtly, that I'm not even aware of their influence. I admit that. Non-sarcastically. Really, I do.

But...people need books. They need to hear and feel and think in a different way. They need to at least consider my oft-asserted premise that there is no such thing as evil people. That's important, so I'm going to say it again:

There is no such thing as evil people.

Yes, people do evil things. They kill, hurt or hunt for pleasure, they steal and lie and do all manner of ghastly shit. But I'm telling you, these people are BROKEN. They are not inherently evil. You don't repeatedly throw your iPhone on the pavement and then blame the web browser when it stops working. You don't hit a kid for years and then wonder why he's angry. You don't lie to someone over and over and then wonder why they no longer trust you. You don't treat someone like ass, again and again for their whole damn lives and then act all shocked and surprised when they do something back. Oh wait...lots of people do that. Tons. Maybe even the majority.
And that's why we like to slap the label "Evil" on behavior that we don't like. It totally takes the burden off the shitty things we do that make other people what they are. Sure, we all have choices, and we all have to take responsibility for what we do. All of us. That includes not blaming a book for a kid that everyone around him had a hand in breaking, and the kid who may or may not cite the book as his inspiration. I think that's something adults foist on kids more than something kids actually do. If Ozzy or the guys from Judas Priest were here, I imagine they'd agree.

I wanted to get out there and tear shit up as a kid. I wanted to make good ol' mater feel as bad as she made me feel. I didn't exactly know how, but I had a few ideas. In high school, I once had a therapy session where we role played me putting poison in her bottle of Mountain Dew. I had said to the doc I was sure I'd feel terrible. But when we role played it, I laughed. A giggle at first, then more--and by the end I was like a cackling supervillian. I didn't want to hurt people. Not really. But to be powerful, for just a few minutes? Yes. Just...yes.

That's how I always felt about Charlie Decker. Charlie cozying up to his Id warmed my sad, adolescent heart. It's why I didn't ever start a fire in MY locker--why I didn't carry a gun to class (although I did spend a few years in college carrying a big knife for some reason. I felt nearly naked without it), or actually physically hurt anybody. Eventually, I was able to get out of a terrible situation, then another, then another, and get the help I needed. I used to kind of wish Stephen King would tell us what ever happened to Charlie Decker like he's about to with Danny Torrance. He hasn't, but I like to think Charlie was able to figure shit out, and that he turned out a lot like me.
wednes: (Heavenly Creatures)
I've talked about this a few times in passing, but decided recently that it's an important enough concept that it deserves a post of its own. I'm framing it in terms of women. But if you're a dude and the advice makes sense to you, by all mean avail yourself of it.

I know plenty of women who struggle with interpersonal relationship issues whether at home, with extended families, at work, the neighborhood--whatever. Often times, we struggle with whether or not it's "worth it to say something" or more specifically--we worry about what will happen and/or what people will say about us if we do or say something in our own defense. I know women who remain in inappropriate relationships because "Who am I to say I deserve better?" I have friends who have accepted various types of harassment with quiet grace, not considering that their silence leaves other people vulnerable to abusers and harassers of all kinds because "It's not that big a deal; I can handle it." We all have lots of excuses why it's not a good idea to stand up for ourselves. So we hope that he'll stop drinking less and realize what a good thing they have in us. We tolerate an unacceptable work situation and halfheartedly scroll through job listings when we are especially angry. We roll our eyes and wish things could be different. We tolerate. We accept.

In a general sense, tolerance and acceptance are wonderful things. But when we're being treated in ways that harm us, we need to stand up. That's the advice I'd give my best friend.

*lightbulb appears over head*

I propose that instead of letting all those excuses (okay, and reasons) keep us from working toward the life and relationships we want--that We follow the advice we would give to our own best friends. Or at the very least, that we apply that advice to ourselves, even if we ultimately make another choice.

Do we tell our best friends to tolerate abuse and/or stay with an abuser?
Do we suggest that maybe if they act nicer, their mean boss will stop making personal insults?
Have we ever told a friend that maybe the reason their mother is so critical is that they haven't really done much with their life?
Have we told a friend that maybe once they lose weight they'll be able to find someone who isn't always looking at other women--but for now we should just stay put?
Or that maybe they should act less *insert thing here* so people won't pick on us.

No, we don't.

Most of us would stay up all night talking down a friend in trouble. We'd do our very best to help them see how wonderful and valuable they are--that they deserve good things, and that there's nothing wrong with asking for them--even demanding them in some cases. We tell our friends that they deserve to be treated in a respectful and dignified manner--and if they aren't getting that treatment, to surround themselves by people who aren't mean spirited asshats.

So again, I propose that we all try to treat ourselves as well as we treat our best friend.
If it's good advice for them, it's almost certainly good advice for us.

The only thing worse than being treated horribly by other people, is thinking they're treating you that way because you deserve it.

Love this concept? Do share it with your BFFs!
wednes: (Peanut Butter/Jelly)
Been thinking in the shift in how I spend my time online. As it happens, I'm on Facebook more than anywhere else. That's not necessarily how I want it; it's just where everyone is. I still pop by DW/LJ, and I hit up Google+ mainly to wait for people to show up. I haven't figured out how to get a decent feed that shows posts in chronological order. That might help. I don't like that I can't go back and find Facebook conversations I had a month ago. I don't like how much information I'm entering but have absolutely no control over. I can't put my finger on my fear--since I'm not really hiding anything from anyone. I just have a feeling that all this sharing is going to come back to bite me later, and I'll wonder how the hell I ever could have been so stupid and naive. After all, humanity is always coming up with new and terrifying ways to exploit the vulnerable for profit.

Watched both parts of Appropriate Adult, the BBC movie about Fred and Rosemary West. As far as I know, I've read or watched all available material on this case. Godawful parents are a speciality of mine. This movie didn't come close to the true horror of the case, the family, the crimes, the victims. Emily Watson, the chick from Red Dragon, was the main character, as some sort of civilian helper for criminals--some kind of barely trained social worker I guess. She was great in it, but the movie itself was just a big dud. It implied that all sorts of facts about the case weren't known--stuff I'd already read about years ago. I don't get it, and I didn't like it.
The most striking thing to me was the treatment of the main characters partner (live-in bloke but not married). He was bi-polar and went off his meds. So the MC calls an ambulance and says "My partner's bi polar and has gone off his meds. He's having a manic episode." So the ambulance picks him up, takes him to a nice hospital where he has a private room. He stays there until he's better. And when he gets out, his job is waiting for him with no reprimand or judgement whatsoever. He starts taking his meds again, and everyone moves on. As an American, that knocks me on my ass. How much healthier would our country be on the whole if we had such a reasonable attitude about helping the mentally ill? How many less people would be in prison? How many less drug addicts who deteriorate slowly over years of dysfunction and unhappiness? What am I saying? If Facebook is any indication, people can't even agree that gay people should be allowed to be gay--let alone that people are still worthy of dignity even though they're mentally odd.

Scaling back on everything but The Finster Effect, as I am in the home stretch. No more freelancing for a bit. May even skip a podcast, we shall see. TFE is shaping up nicely, just like I keep saying.

New TV season starts soon. Yay! This season, I'll be watching
(or at least saving to the DVR or catching On Demand):
Criminal Minds
Boardwalk Empire
The Walking Dead (I know...I can't resist)
Person of Interest
Sunday night FOX
and we'll probably keep going with Falling Skies whenever that comes back, midseason I'd guess. H also wants to start downloading Fringe.

Sleep Study on Wednesday. They were supposed to send me some paperwork that still hasn't arrived. I called, and they sent me a link to download it, saying that it often doesn't arrive until the day before. Front page, it says you have to give 48 hours notice to cancel (everywhere else on earth it's 24 hours). If you don't, they charge you $200 out of pocket. Fine, fair enough. But if that's the case, shouldn't they be telling you that within 48 hours of your appointment? *sigh* As my great-grandpa used to say That's how they gitcha!

New Zombie Zone News interview is up. This week: James L Grant. Some of you local types may know him as [personal profile] flemco. He's what my mom would call "mouthy," which made for a great interview.
wednes: (TV!!!)
Did not to a goddamn thing yesterday.
Really...not a single productive or lucrative thing.

Got up, had lunch because it was 2pm.
Watched Bette Davis in The Nanny. I love Bette, and I love that movie. Somehow though, I forgot that there was a back alley abortion in it. How could I possibly have forgotten THAT?

Mostly listened to tunes and dicked around on the internets.
Feel very sad about work stuff, and being trapped in a thing I don't like.
I really thought I'd be over that by this point in my life.
Not having kids is supposed to free up a lot of time and money.
Ah well...

True Blood premiere was okay, nothing special. They basically spent the whole first episode clearing up cliffhangers and letting us know where everyone is. I daresay Maxine Fortenberry has rocketed to the front of the list as being the most dysfunctional person in Bon Temps. Really, Maxine? Really?
The second ep was much better, even though it took 40 freaking minutes for the stupid thing to start--not counting the 10 minutes I spent proving to a website that I actually have HBO.

Forgot to DVR that alien show we were trying out. I bet it's On Demand though.
Decided recently that I'm not going to be recording cartoons onto discs anymore. I've been recording Simpsons every week for almost 20 years. I just don't care anymore. I don't have time to record them, let alone watch and rewatch them like I used to. Maybe I'll make a disc or two a season covering everything, that would make more sense.
Besides, Simpsons fans can be so irritating. Some 22 year old kid was talking about how the show "just isn't funny like it was in the beginning." Right. Because we all respond to things the same way at 22 as we did in the fucking womb. Idiots.

Depression is still kicking my ass. I really wish I knew how to stop feeling so overwhelmed by everything. Everything just sucks so bad though...

I have this thing now where within an hour of waking up, I'm pissed about a dozen different things. That's mainly how I know it's teh crazy and not just the world sucking ass. I swear if I didn't have insurance, I'd just go back in the hospital. But since I have a job, insurance expects me to spend thrice my monthly take-home pay for less than 3 days inpatient.


Jan. 21st, 2011 01:33 pm
wednes: (Milk & Cheese)
I've got the Seasonal Affective Disorder yet again. For those of you who don't like diagnoses that were invented after 1975, I'm Fucking Depressed. I hate my day job. I never have enough time to do stuff I want. I'm too poor. And everybody I've ever met in my life has just had a baby, bought a house, quit their day-job, or some other great adult accomplishment that I will never get anywhere near. You know I'm depressed when I'm comparing myself to other people, since I know intellectually that doing so is a recipe for spiritual and emotional disaster.

Which is why the rest of this post is (giant, sorry) pics of an amazing recipe for stuffed dates. I made this on Sunday for my cartoon viewing guests. Smashing success, they were. Caution: Bacon Ahoy! )

I assure you that they were magically delicious. Even good cold. Sweet and um...porky.
Too labor intensive and deadly to have often, but def on the menu for my next gathering. And thanks to my buddy Cre for the recipe.
wednes: (TV!!!)
Within say, an hour of this weekend's shooting, the Internet discourse devolved into a hateful screaming match about who is more responsible. I'm here to tell you that there is plenty of blame to go around.

Sure, there's plenty of violent rhetoric coming from the right. To rile up their angry, frightened, gun-and-scapegoat-loving base, conservatives do tend to employ a lot of aggressive language that many are citing as the impetus for this shooting. Now let me ask you this, how many of you have ever murdered someone because someone on TV told you to? Nobody? Okay, good. Now, how many of you have ever murdered someone because a couple people on TV, the internet, and politics suggested that you do so? Again, nobody? Awesome. Have you ever murdered someone (or even tried) because of a book, a song, a movie, a little devil on your shoulder, or a map with a bunch of cross-hairs on it? I thought not. That's because this is something disturbed people do. People who are not well acquainted with reality can sometimes take things more literally than intended, with ugly, horrible consequences. And of course, the Bible has been cited as the cause for many, man murders. So has Catcher in the Rye. But we don't dig up the corpses of Salinger or Jesus so we can hold them accountable, do we?

That said, I honestly do not think that Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, or Bill O'Reilly are actually glad that someone opened fire on a crowd. In fact, I bet they are horrified because they know full well that a lot of people will blame them for the actions of a lone loon. Yes, teabaggers are often also gun nuts. Yes, many are racists, homophobes, misogynists, etc. They are ignorant, misinformed, carry nonsensical misspelled signs, and are terrified of anything they don't understand. I think they are ludicrous, and need to shut up. I do NOT, however, think they are all okay with murdering people they don't agree with. In my opinion, gun nuts come in two basic stripes: Those who are nutty for guns the way that I am nutty for movies: enthusiastic, knowledgeable, passionate, are careful not to leave naughty things in reach of children. Then, there are the frightened, hateful types who keep tons of guns around because they are terrified that the gov't, the ter'rsts, the atheists, or whoever they're hating at the mo' are gonna come take their guns and kill their grandmothers or whatever. They cram the 2nd amendment down our collective throats and swear that they are nothing more than patriots who love their country...which must be the reason Sig Sauer puts out crap like this.

IMHO, the reason shit like this happens is largely due to the stigma surrounding mental illness. When we pretend that the ONLY diagnoses are "crazy" or "sane" and that telling someone they need mental help is a huge insult--we open the door for nuttiness to be confused with reality. This is exacerbated by denying poor people access to doctors and a general tenor in society that people who get help for mental issues are inherently less valuable, trustworthy, truthful, or reasonable than people who fervently pretend that they are fine. If you think spraying a peaceful crowd with automatic gunfire is a good way to get your point across, you're a loon. And you'd be a loon even if no one had ever heard of Sarah Palin or her endless chanting of "don't retreat, reload!"

Myself, I write exactly the sort of books that some loon might read the wrong way and think I'm telling him/her to murder someone or that "evil" is okay. They are crazy books, but like Michael Douglass in "Falling Down," they make an odd kind of sense. I do not advocate murder, nor do I believe in evil. Evil is a cop-out, just like Bill O'Reilly's version of god. I don't know what causes this, so it must be god/the devil/bob/evil/FSM. Like zero-tolerance policies, it is a short cut to thinking or having to decide things.

With all of that in mind, Fred Phleps and his ilk can fuck right off for their plans to picket the funerals of these people. I know I just said I don't advocate violence, but if I was a Christian and this guy kept telling people he was on the same side as me--I might well want to introduce his face to a jumbo roll of duct tape.

Nothing Yet

Oct. 5th, 2010 01:08 pm
wednes: (Cartoon JoJo)
JoJo still has not returned home.
Apologies again for the gigantic pics of him last night. I forgot that DW does pics entirely differently than LJ. My bad.

Our neighbors informed the local PD that a "suspicious looking black man" was "wandering around in the parking lot, looking at stuff with a flashlight." I don't know whether to be glad that our neighbors actually care about preventing crimes, or pissed that black men over 6 feet are still so very scary to some. Both, I guess. If I didn't know H, I might not want him (or anyone, really) flashlighting under my car at 3am...and again at 6am.

I've learned that our neighbors drink a LOT in the woods that surround the complex. Somebody really likes half pints of 5' o'clock vodka. That SCREAMS alcoholic to me.
Yes, there are woods surrounding my complex which means that searching for JoJo is pretty much ridiculously futile. We've spent an awful lot of time on it anyway. Bearing in mind that I am not an outside person, an extraneous walking person, or a trudging through uneven terrain person, I'm holding up reasonably well. I'm sore as fuck though. I figured he'd be someplace close, probably in the bushes. No dice. He hates being chilly so I'm kind of nervous as to where he might have gone to get warm.

Aside from not making it in to work today so I can continue to sit in front of an open door wall (and periodically research the dumpsters since he loves to dig up trash), I'm doing okay. When Clarence died, I was almost hospitalized because I took it so incredibly badly and had so much guilt that I'd failed her. I was awake for four days straight and I think I was also off my meds because "Fuck this shit, I'm done!"
This situation with JoJo is even more overtly my fault, so the fact that I'm no longer hysterical shows just how much progress I've made being mentally odd.

Anyway, here's a smaller snap of JoJo, my little man:

Come the fuck home already, buddy!
wednes: (Dancing Hurley)
Since LOST ended, I've been wondering how it would impact TV on the whole. Would every network try a similarly budgeted and convoluted show that requires intense study and nerdy devotion to fully process? The Event premiered on Monday, and we got our definitive answer: Kinda. It introduced lots of characters, jumped around between "now" and 11-months ago, three weeks ago, yesterday, all over the place. Basically, some chick went missing, leading a guy to crash a plane into a black president. How avant garde. Not. H liked it, and it's on Mondays--which means we can watch it together. So we're gonna give it a whirl. But NOT in a rabid fangirl way. I'm not ready to do that again.
I'd also like to mention the rumor that Terry "The Stepfather" O'Quinn and Michael "The Delightfully Psychotic" Emerson are in talks to do some kind of dramatic buddy comedy series together. Gimme Gimme Gimme it!!! I can only watch those William Hinks episodes of The Practice on my iPod so many times. ;-] That's not true, I could watch them to infinity.

Criminal Minds comes back tonight. This is the first new season since my obsession with this program began. I'm stoked. Blah blah my marriage blah... ) To illustrate this point, H got me my cable back. We even have Showtime (which I have never had before) so I can watch Dexter. The HD/DVR box isn't here yet, but they zapped our box with the new channels and the On Demand. I watched the first two eps of Season Three of Tru Blood last night. Awesome!!! There's also a whole new season of Hung I didn't know about. Right now Showtime is showing a movie starring Judd Nelson and Dale Midkiff, followed by a one-star Jaws ripoff starring Antonio Sabato Jr. Ahh...cable. That's the stuff...

We went to see Devil last night. I thought going in that it was directed by M Night Shymalan. It was not. But the guy who did direct was clearly his minion. It was a not-quite-as-thoughtful portrayal of something M Night would have done. I found it suspenseful, though I gotta admit that keeping information from the audience by making it go dark is totally overdone. And these dark scenes were far too long. I did enjoy the way information was parceled out, but the revelations were forced and again, tired. It had some great moments and good performances, but I found it to be routine and underwhelming. That bumms me out, as I was poised to enjoy it.

Still working on some short stories, one in particular. I don't think I've ever written a ghost story. I find them to be typically boring and trite. Someone died badly, they haunt a person or a place. *Yawn* But I have a cool idea and was asked to contribute to another anthology. Plus, the guy who asked is pretty good and I'm pleased to be involved. Thinking about doing the ol' NaNoWriMo Zokutuo clause thingy this year, if only to get my ass in gear on the new book. It's gonna be so good, it saddens me that it isn't further along. In case you missed it, it's a zombie novel called The Finster Effect after my dear friend Finster who shared a cool idea with me. Plus, I less-than-three zombies.

Speaking of crazy, this recent xkcd sums up one of the most perpetually plaguing aspects of my inner monologue.

Due to this mindset, I have actually convinced myself that when I kiss H before he or I goes to work, that the act of us kissing is magical and will keep us safe. I shudder to think what a competent psychiatrist would make of that--it fails on so many levels. Psyche docs call that "reframing." I call it batshit. But if it lets me sleep at night, fuck it, I don't care.
wednes: (Default)
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I can't speak for anybody else, but for me, I want to know everything I can about artists whose work I really enjoy. I want to know what inspired it, what the influences were, what they were trying to convey. The more I know, the more there is to enjoy, and the better able I will be to understand the creation of art/music/movies/books from every possible angle.

My manic phase from 10 or so weeks ago has swung back around the other way, and I am now in the midst of a crippling depression. Missed work yesterday and today. I was also sick over the weekend and not keeping much down, so I was without my various meds for the whole weekend. Sucks. My doc appointment is not until next week. At the clinic where I go, I have to meet with my regular doc and the psyche doc at the same time. Good idea, to be sure, but difficult to schedule. Not sure if I need to be on some other kind of med or what. I can't really try any radical changes right now since it's the busy season at the day-job and I can't have things getting any worse.

Last night's dinner was steelhead trout and goat cheese mashed potatoes with kale. I'd never made red trout before, and it was tasty. The marinade turned out a touch too sweet, but it was still tasty. H liked it, which is the important thing around here. Going to throw together some alfredo pasta tonight. Comfort food at its finest.

Writing is going well. Seems that the need for short stories from me has gone way up, and 3 different Anthologies are waiting for subs from me. Not sure if I'm gonna be able to please everybody, but I'm gonna do my best. I need to come up with a story about a haunting, something in general horror, something on bullying, and one other thing that is escaping me at the moment. So I guess I'd better close here and get back to work.
wednes: (Default)
One of the finest films ever made, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was on TV yesterday. Apparently, it's the anniversary. I'm gonna discuss it at length, with mild spoilers, and within the context of my having mental illness myself. )

Back to work tomorrow, having accomplished everything I needed to this weekend. Need to spend more time with the zombie manuscript of course, but my new short story is pretty solid right now. (It's up for members of [ profile] wednes_writes if anyone wants to check it out.) Next podcast is ready to go and new Ladies of Villainy post went up yesterday. So that's all good. The busy season at my day-job basically starts tomorrow. We have a bunch of new people coming in, and call volume is about to explode. Sucky thing is, this summer was terrible and stressful, and I've been really busy so I feel like I didn't get much down time. We had a horrible sale and they released a badly handled coupon that didn't work on the website. Then we got the horrible new system that, in addition to being VERY slow and unintuitive, was rolled out terribly and is still buggy as hell. Couple that with nobody getting raises and bonuses being laughably small, I'm not really feeling the day-job these days.

In case I haven't mentioned, Inception was incredible. Not quite my fave Christopher Nolan film, but damn close. (I freakin' LOVE Following). I'm not going to discuss it at length, just go see it. I got a copy of The Prestige on DVD this week because I haven't been able to find my burned copy in months. It's well worth paying for anyway. Also picked up the remake of 'Salem's Lot for cheap (both movies delivered for $15) *Happy Dance*

And finally, my iPod wiped itself clean last week. It was horrible. No reason at all. It was plugged in and I restarted my computer. All gone. Called support--no help. I lost a zillion movies, audiobooks, LOST and other TV eps, and a bunch of stuff from iTunes that I actually paid for. They don't let you re download stuff for free anymore. Never been angry at Apple before, don't like how that feels.
wednes: (Default)
It's been like Christmas without the cookie baking at my house. My co-worker, whose thesis I edited, has loaded me up with all manner of gifts. In addition to the carnivorous plant terrarium and the book on how to help it not die, he got me chocolates from Chocolate Garden (tasty, but I think I still prefer Godiva), the Monty Python 3-movie box set, and the Max Brooks graphic novel. He told me there'd be one more thing, which I couldn't imagine it topping what he'd already given me. But wait...he scored me a HARDBACK copy of The Bachman Books which has been out of print for some time. It includes Road Work, The Running Man, and Rage--which is my all-time favorite Stephen King short stories.
I didn't realize until very recently that my first novel is heavily influenced by it. I read a ton of SK's short stories (3 or 4 different anthologies as I recall)when I was a kid. Voraciously, over and over. There were some gems, Strawberry Spring, Graveyard Shift, Word Processor of the Gods, some story about a really fat chick who was in a mafia family. I loved them, but none so much as Rage. These were formative stories for me. Not only was I still figuring out how the world works, but also about the craft of writing, why people do it, and how they get good at it. I studied those stories to figure out

H and I are going to see Inception tonight. We haven't been to a movie since Alice in Wonderland. And we both love Chris Nolan. I recently added Following to my wishlist as I realized that my VHS of it no longer works. It's quite a mindfucker. Anyway, I predict good things.

Working on a scary short story that comes out in October, and still plugging away on the new zombie novel, though that is slow going. *snerk* Doc appointment tomorrow wherein I tell her I can't keep taking that anti-mania pill. It makes me tired and loopy. Plus I'm gaining weight despite eating much better--unacceptable. I've gained almost 12 pounds in the last 3 months. That is total bullshit, and I'm not having it. Getting into a very fed up space with the meds, and the idea that I'm supposed to tolerate awful side effects because my insurance refuses to cover the good stuff--the kind that actually helped me. Of course, the stuff that helped my mania made my blood sugar go up, and they wanted to give me more meds to help that. What a fucking racket.

Still watching Huge on ABC family. It's entertaining, and I like some of the characters very much. And of course, the blue haired chick from the new Hairspray is adorable. My own blue and pink hair streaks should be happening soon. My friend that is helping me should have a car soon (she won't take a yellow cab to my place for some reason). I just hope the Amplified Hair Lightning does not cause my hair to dry up and break off. That would suck.


Jun. 25th, 2010 12:00 am
wednes: (Default)
When I was in elementary school, and again in college, they told us basically the following:

If all the time of the earth from it's inception until today,
was 24-hours,
man would have shown up at 1 minute to midnight.
That is to say, we showed up at the very, very end.

It seems like perhaps the universe puts "intelligent" (in quotes to imply whatever the hell THAT means) life on a planet for a specific reason. I might even suggest that it's for the express purpose of running that planet into the ground. Or blowing it to smithereens--both of which we have already done or are perfectly capable of doing thanks to technology we developed wholly on purpose. Our sole purpose here may be to bring about the planet's demise. In which case--we're doing a bang-up job!

In the premiere episode of The Sopranos, Tony has this great monologue. It's about how it's good to be at the beginning of something. And that these days he felt as if he was coming in at the end. Prophetic, seeing as how he *spoiler alert* ) Ya know? I kinda feel like that may be the case with humanity. Or maybe it's just me. I hope not, yikes!

Here on Earth, there is much ado about how we define that which we do not know. Why are we here? What happens when we die? Who made the planet--and us? How long ago? What else is out there? Humans go to war over that, countless people dying needlessly. But what if whatever it is is larger than the United States, the planet Earth, our Solar System, the milky way even...and beyond? What then? Are we all going to some intergalactic plane of torment because we didn't know we should revere a super space God? Probably not, but who the hell knows?

It certainly stands to reason that if there is a single higher power, that it controls more than this one planet. So if you want to be One with The Universe you might want to set about the task of finding out who that it, and how we may appease them.

In other news, my head has been hurting me and giving me weird kinds of throbbing and tingling, and feeling heavy. Wednes no like. Decided to start cutting those new pills I've been taking in half. They seem to be taking a lot out of me. Think it might also be time to get my hearing checked and maybe get a new head X-ray. It's been a while for me.
wednes: (Default)
Since going on the new meds, I've found that my tolerance for annoyance has decreased considerably. For example, when people call me at work and begin each call with 10-20 seconds of Um...hi, yes. I want to you need my last name or something, wait--is this the right department? Did I call *business*? Okay um...I bought um...I've been buying with your company since 1972, blah blah not getting to the fucking point blah. How difficult is it to succinctly tell me why you're calling and what the fuck you want? Is it really such a chore to be in the same room as your credit card, your list of things you want to order, or your child for whom you aren't sure what size instrument they need? How the hell am I supposed to help you without those things? YOU called ME! How are you not ready to talk about your issue? Some jackass today told me we "had no right" to authorize his credit card for the things he ordered, because donchaknow he changed his order later in the day? He ended up calling back 4 times and jackassery abounded every single time. So that sucks. Still, I have the kind of supervisors who are totally helpful and empathetic. Still, I'd like for these asshats to NOT piss me off as much as they do. I'm documenting this moodiness for posterity so I can tell the doc about it when I go in for my follow up appointment--which I totally need to make next week.

I'm also looking at distancing myself from all but a few people for a time. I'm finding myself getting really upset about things I can't do anything about. Not only is it painful and difficult to tell a friend I think they need mental help, but most of the time, the friend in question will be completely unwilling to consider what I'm saying. Or if they do consider it, they have a list of reasons they "can't" have therapy, that is so thorough and long that I wonder if they didn't prepare it in advance.
I'm also trying to network and collaborate and do things that I think are important and helpful to my career goals. I feel like I should be apologetic for even having career goals--which likely stems from my mom's ever-present mantra "What makes YOU think you're so special?" I let that discourage me from even attempting to be a writer, and it discourages me still when I'm not watching out for it specifically.

Take a Stab at This! is up and running over at the iTunes. I had to rename some stuff and fine tune the metadata, but it seems like things are moving right along. The Growlers seems to be catching a few people's eye(s). If you get a minute, please head over there and rate, leave a review, or tell a friend. I'm spending a ton of time and energy on these podcasts and I really need them to get me some notice. This week: Sadie Chapter 4.

I'm due for new glasses soon. Yay. I'm hoping to go full-on Granny Glasses with the beaded chain and everything. I found a shop in Ann Arbor that says they have vintage frames, and I think they take my insurance. Happily, the optical insurance I have through H's work is pretty good. So I'm looking forward to that.

In cat news, JoJo (Joey JoJo Junior Shabadoo to you) is a breed called a British Bombay. They are characterized by their unique appearance, including black pads on their little paws. They are way far dog-like. The want to fetch and love running after treats. They tend toward overeating and LOVE human scraps. Um...scraps of food leftoever from the food humans have eaten. Not like, scraps of human or anything. Anyway, they say the breed takes well to being taken outside with a harness. I'm very into that idea, but have never done it before. Facebookers were most helpful in lending some tips and regaling me with their own experiences. The word "drag" was used a lot. That's not really what I'm going for. I don't really know what to look for in a harness as far as quality and safety.
Little help?

This guy...THIS is the guy.

And here's one of both of them, because they are cute:
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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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You know how I took that whole week off work to get my shit straight and deal with the mania? Yeah...I went back to work for 2 whole days and then had to call off. When I went to the docs last Thursday, we decided to try a really low dose of Risperdal. I didn't get the pills until Saturday, and by Monday afternoon I felt way far high. But I wasn't. For reals. I was feeling totally loopy at work and by the next morning I was totally confused and foggy. Got a few extra hours of sleep (like, 6) and felt moderately better. I'm okay today, but I hate that evening out period where anything goes. It freaks H out and I don't like that at all. I feel like I'm punishing him for caring so much, because sometimes I'm just not well. Sucks. Anyway, I'm feeling better. Look ma, no mania!

Was watching TV with H yesterday and a bizarre thing happened. A little box came up on the TV during a commercial for some car or something. It said to click "enter" for more information. Aghast, we decided to click, and it said "click again if you'd like..." basically saying that Comcast would send this company my contact info so I could get "more information." WTF?!? No...
So...strike two, Comcast. Your prices are ridiculously high already, and you nose into your employees business with your drug testing policies. Now this? You are on my last nerve, Comcast.

Moving on LOST lays it out, because that's how they roll. )A show about Miles and Sawyer as cops would crack my ass up...

As for me, I'm gonna record, edit, and post Chapter 2 of A Stabbing for Sadie podcast tonight. My poor Mikey is having some time crunch issues, so I'm still waiting on him. Happily, the new Dami/Chandra is wonderful, so I'm excited to get a bunch of those chaps laid next week. I may have found a delightful Fran as well. So it's very exciting and fun. Plus, I love the theme song for Mikey.

Of course, I am having hard core LOST fans over on Sunday for the whole shebang. Do let me know if you'd like to attend.
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I've never really been a fan of summer. When I was a kid, school was awesome because even though there were bullies and gym class and plenty of apathetic teachers (and some good ones, but the bad ones can ruin your whole day), nobody treated me like I was treated at home. Summer is hot. I don't like being hot. I don't wear skimpy clothes, I don't go to the beach, or amusement parks, or community pools. So--summer doesn't really do much for me.

But now...I only work 3 days a week in the summer. It's our slow season. I have time to blog at work. I get free air conditioning all day, free filtered water, and I enjoy my co-workers. So that's all good. As it happens, this summer has been okay thusfar. The kids are gone, so it's easy to get a cab. And some things are coming together fairly well.

My doc appointment has led to the addition of 1mg of Risperdal to my daily pill intake. I don't care for the term anti-psychotic, as you might imagine. I don't fancy thinking of myself as someone who needs a pill to not be a psycho. But that's mainly connotative. In truth, it's supposed to even out my mania. And at this low dose, it kind of reminds me of Zyprexa. It makes me kind of sleepy and makes everything feel soft and nice--sort of like being stoned. It's also giving me the munchies. Seriously.
Happily, this pill comes into my life the same week as the badass recliner I just scored for my living room. It's a Lay-z-boy and is pretty damn comfy. I'm gonna write a short story about as soon as I figure out what horrible thing is hiding inside it. ;-]

My most difficult podcast casting dilemma worked out for me as of yesterday. I found someone who is able and willing to read both Dami and Chandra for the low, low price of $10 an hour. So that is sweet. My new biggest dilemma is that my Mikey is short on free time and is having a tough time getting the chapters to me. I'm okay with waiting a bit, because he's really, REALLY good. But I'm also antsy and nervous because I'm like that.
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My week off has been just delightful thusfar. Lots of time spent with H, with friends, working on the podcast, and watching TV and films. Catching up on Criminal Minds, which has been just delightful. Hotch is my main man...though an erie fascination with Dr Reid cannot be denied. *sigh* Plus I love Garcia--so damn cute! Been editing and getting some recording done. Also caught up with some friends, and more to come. Waiting to hear from userinfolachupacabra about a visit today. Dinner with Sara tomorrow after my psyche appointment. Lunch with userinfokissdbyagnome on Friday. Back to work on Saturday followed by lunch with userinfoklynnfrost. Sunday I'm meeting a potential vocal actor for the podcast, followed by cartoons. Then Monday, back to work at the rate of 3 days a week through July. Woot!

H and I scored a copy of The Box which I mentioned in an earlier post. I found much to like about it, moreso than H I daresay. Decent characters, solid performances, Frank Langella was creepy as hell. I think they spent a bit too much time on filler that didn't really go anywhere, but the commentary on humanity was well played. And it's another in a long line of movies where a certain actor does NOT get the girl in the end.

And of course, last night was the long awaited Jacob-centric episode of LOST. Here there be spoilers! ) Jacob is hot, and I would brave the Smoke Monster for him. Not a prediction, I'm just stating it as a fact.
And of course, me wantee polar bear!

In sad news, Robert Downey Jr is a huge republican now. WTF happened?
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I've been feeling overwhelmed and unwell to the point of actually contemplating a short hospitalization. Of course, I have a job and therefore can't afford that, because I'd actually be expected to pay for it. Also can't afford the med I've been prescribed, so I'm going to see if I can get a ($50) appointment with the mental health doc they now have at my local community clinic. I want to discuss some med options and see if there's anything that might help me without making it so I can't get to my Crazy--which I need for writing.

My boss is giving me most of next week off, per my request. Aside from my own personal Crazy, my day-job has been kicking my ass. The last two weeks have been fucking unbearable, they really hung us out to dry. Like Christmas times a million, plus web support we are in no way trained to provide. I'm working tomorrow and Friday, then not again until the following Saturday. In that time I will sleep, edit and mix audio for podcasts, and outline the new book. Then I will sleep a bit more, play some Xbox and watch a few movies I've been meaning to watch. It will be glorious. I am getting pretty damn excited for the new book to start coming together. Zombies, you know.

Have you guys read Under the Dome yet? I got it for my birthday, but the I started reading Jack Ketchum and haven't stopped yet. But I'm thinking about picking it up during my week off, since it isn't really a good book to carry around in your purse. Will the ending make me mad? (You know how some Stephen King novels end like he couldn't think of anything so he just stopped writing or flipped a coin or something? userinfowednes
no like.) With that in mind, should I read it?

Speaking of Jack Ketchum, I think I got banned from posting at his Facebook fan comm. I posted something about how the movie version of The Girl Next Door sucked, and how whoever made it didn't seem to understand why the book is so goddamn good. Then, I couldn't post over there anymore. That's a drag, but I was being absolutely sincere. I adore Ketchum's work, and it infuriates me that someone would (or could, I suppose) make such a sub-par movie out of such an impressive book.

H and I watching a silly little zombie movie called Insanitarium. I expected that it would be laughably bad. It was almost good. Had some very cool elements, even if they weren't well fleshed out *snerk--zombies? fleshed out? Hahahahahaaa!* or well-acted. Supposedly, nanotechnology made the zombies, but aside from telling us that verbally, there's nothing else on nanotechnology in the whole movie.

And finally, if you're like me, you've been waiting for Google Chrome for mac to finally allow you to organize your bookmarks. It's still in Beta, but they have fixed that and I am now using it to great affect. Yay!
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Why I think I have PMDD. Cut for girliness. ) Cue Internet research and the suspicion that I have developed PMDD. So...what do I do about it? No, I'm asking.

Have been given a small writing project at work. Seems the plan is to let me do a few things to demonstrate that I am able to write in a way that will benefit the company. Writing well about things I'm not necessarily into is challenging. I'm also finding it difficult to strike a balance between casual rapport and professional discourse. I am pleased that our VP of Marketing is taking me seriously, and confident that I will rise to the challenge.

Cut new vocal tracks for chaps 1 and 3 of KMLYLM audiobook podcast. Took just over an hour, and was really outstanding. The guy doing it is an old buddy of mine from the Heathen Ranch. I hadn't hung out with him in years, which is stupid because he's right in town. He used to have super long hair, but now it's regular dude hair length. Anyway, that is going well and I am pleased. Also picked a new theme song for S4S audiobook podcast. Remixing that today, hopefully. I'm feeling mentally shagged so I might just make cookies instead. ;-]
Pretty soon, the podcast (now titled Take a Stab at This!) will be up and running on my website. You can listen to them there, or download them via the iTunes. Once I have a bunch of episodes I'm going to put them up on Podiobooks, where all the cool kids are podcasting their audiobooks.

This week I have four opening shifts. One of which forced me to cancel lunch with my favorite Aunt. *dislike*
I know a lot of people get up early every day. I am not those people. I mean, there's a reason I'm almost 40 and still working shitty customer service jobs. I can't do that 9-5 thing how people do. I hate waking up in the morning--it is physically painful. I hate working a bunch of days in a row without a break. I can do it, if I have to. But resentment and unhappiness start building up pretty quickly, so I'd rather head it off at the pass. I'm gonna talk to my boss about going down to 3 days a week for the rest of the summer--I did that last summer and it kicked ass.
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Note: this turned out longer than I expected. But I'm not cutting it, because it also turned out more fascinating than I expected.

I am an incredibly self-absorbed person. There's no denying it. The advancement of all things Wednes is my number one priority in life. My writing. My well-being. My happiness. There are plenty of people I love and enjoy sharing my life with, and sharing in theirs. But me first. I'm number one. I do not consider this a bad thing, even though the term self-absorbed has a negative connotation. I consider it a healthy, proactive stance on things. Still, it is not without it's down side.

Like my dear friend Sadie, *snerk* everything in my life is processed in relation to me. For all my talk of people being the sum total of their life experience, limited or advanced by their physicality, I can be woefully forgetful of the fact that not everyone knows what I know, or has done what I've done. This leads to scenarios where someone thinks I'm dis'ing them because they don't know something--when actually I'm trying NOT to insult them by implying they didn't know it. Eg:

Me: JD Salinger died. I can't believe some of the stuff people are saying about him online.

They: Who's JD Salinger?

Me: Really? 0^o

They: YES, really! I'm sorry I don't know every actor in the world.

Me: Actually, he's--you know what? Nevermind.

And then I look like a tool. But yeah, if I know something, I tend to assume that everyone knows it, or should know it. I remind myself that my 15-years-younger-than-me-co-workers aren't going to get my reference to "The Ropers" spin-off show. Hell, I had to explain "Jump the Shark" to one of the 3 hippest chicks in my department. (Sasha, if you are still internet stalking me, the other two and Renee and Ariana) The only exceptions would be things I have formally studied, or things that I am rabidly fanatical about. But even then, if you tell me you're a Simpsons fan, I will fully expect you to be able to spell Apu's last name. If you "love" Harry Potter but don't know Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore's brother's name, I will think you lame. Sorry.

But this philosophy of mine often extends to the world at large. I forget that there are people who still watch Smallville because I stopped watching it years ago. When Stephen King stopped focusing on horror, I figured horror novels were over and stopped reading them. I read a few horror classics I'd been meaning to get to, then I moved on to other genres. A lot of true crime, psychology, comparative religions, and Christopher Moore (who really is a genre unto himself). I'm only just now getting back to horror. The fact that I'm just now discovering Jack Ketchum is as absurd as me not discovering Voltaire until 2009. Then again, I'm having a great time reading Ketchum in that way you can enjoy something the very first time. *cue juvenile virginity joke* I mean, think about the first time you read a book that made you look differently at the most important things that you do in life. Ketchum inspires me to be a better writer. In fact, it's kind of fucking with me how much I adore him. This stuff is fucking terrifying. I can't even tell you how much I want to do what he does (and the fact that I can't tell you is indicative of what I'm saying here). I feel like in some ways, Kiss Me Like You Love Me is derivative of him--even though I hadn't read him at all yet when I wrote it. And the fear of being a derivative crapshack of a writer totally keeps me up at night. Really.
Ketchum was always on my long-term list of stuff to read. After Sadie came out people started asking me if I had read him, or if I was "inspired" by him. After Kiss Me got released, people started asking me again. Honest people, I had never read him before. And damn, is he good.

Looking back, I forgot that I even wanted to be a writer just because people stopped assigning me things to write. That's how much focus I lacked. Between mental illness and an *ahem* colorful upbringing, I stayed good and crazy for some time. Can you even imagine what would have happened if this new book came out in 1995 instead of now? Truth is, I don't think I could have written A Stabbing for Sadie at any other time then when I wrote it. My best rough writing is a blitz attack. I used to think being a published writer was a ridiculously unattainable goal. Now I tell everyone who asks that it's easier than ever to get published these days. I base that on no other fact than that I am published; and that there are a lot of shitty-looking books being hyped on FB. Is this viewpoint a low-self-esteem thing? Maybe? I don't know. I'm over analyzing now.

All of this stands to reason, so far as logic goes. But frankly, I worry that my own life experience is blinding me from seeing other people fully. Sometimes I feel remarkably blind to things that are right in front of me, that I feel like I should have noticed if I'd paid any attention at all. When I advertised The Cat's Apprentice, I didn't actually tell advertise that it was about chicks who turn into cats. I forgot that's what it was about, because to me, it was about a bunch of other stuff. Revenge and empowerment and relationships and stuff. But that all makes me feel pretentious and elitists. But that may just be the Oh, so you think you're too good for us now rhetoric I used to deal with. Maybe my expectations for what I should know are just too high.

Conversely, I might just feel this way because if I meet anyone interesting, I want to know how they tick. I want to explore why they like what they like, how they've arrived at their conclusions about the world--especially if those conclusions are radically different than mine. I want to know their parents, their siblings, I want to see where they spend their free time and what there favorite fast food is. I just want to know. Maybe it's intrusive for me to want to know all that stuff. It makes me want to half-assed amateur shrink everyone I know--especially the dysfunctional ones. And deep down, we're all dysfunctional in one way or another. It's just a matter of degree, and specific manifestation.

Or...maybe I'm overanalyzing my thought processes as part of an elaborate self-delusion to escape the knowledge that I'm actually a sociopath. Or...maybe I should watch less Criminal Minds (NEVER!!!!!).

O/T I realized today that I've been giving FOX my Sunday nights for over 20 years. It sounds impressive or a sign of loyalty, but it might just be sad. I haven't decided.
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I must confess that I have hurt people's feelings with my flip wit. It took me a long time to realize that just because something is timely and hilarious, it may or may NOT need to be exclaimed in front of a room full of people. I do think some people need to laugh at themselves more, even as I recognize that it's not my job to facilitate that if they aren't willing.

I have always been possessed of a rather biting sarcasm which I'm told is how angry people go about looking less angry than they are. When I was a very young kid, I tended to find a weaker kid and bully them--thinking I was being both strong and smart. Apparently this is common in kids who are getting smacked around a lot. It hadn't occurred to me that I might be a bully. I remember once hitting this girl on the head with a broom handle--then being surprised when she started crying. I had no real understanding of how my behavior affected others, or that I had the power to hurt people since usually, I felt completely powerless. I just didn't think I was important enough, particularly with my mother's constant message of "you're nothing special so stop pretending that you are."

These days, bulling is one of my hot-button issues, like abuse in general. This is particularly true when abusers (and even bystanders) blame the victim. Few things make me more pissed than when people are mistreated--then blamed because they don't take it well. The "you're being overly sensitive (of my dicketry)" excuse for being a fucking bully makes me choke on my own rage. I saw a T-shirt once that said RELAX, I'm just being a total asshole that I sorely wanted to buy for someone I think is a big, mean, bully. And of course, this person's lack of self esteem is both obvious and crippling. Kids don't always know better, but if you're 30, you have no fucking excuse.

In other news, I had a marketing stroke of genius this weekend. I'm putting together an audiobook sampler of some short stories and opening novel chapters. I'm gonna sell them for cheap and use it to hook people not just to my books, but to the podcast of the new novel I'm putting together. A guy I went to college with has agreed to read Mikey. And I'm still auditioning people for the Narrator. A couple of peeps asked about reading short stories, so I've sent out a bit of that as well. I'm hoping to record a Sadie chapter tonight or tomorrow, depending on how long it takes me. H is designing the cover and the CD's themselves (I got white-top ones so they can be printed on), and I ordered the discs and cases yesterday. So that is well under way. Happily, we'll be including a selection read by [ profile] swayworn, and hopefully one read by [ profile] porcelain72 as well.

Work-wise, I typed up a 3-4 page proposal on Saturday to further my sinister plan to rewrite some catalog copy. It contained many frank opinions and some specific examples of the kind of things I want to focus on. Hopefully it will be well received.

September 2017



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