Wurds… I rite them gud

I’ve had a migraine all day. Right now, I just have a medium-sized left over headache, but my brain still feels like apple sauce.  What I mean to say is: don’t expect coherency. Do y’all ever expect the coherency?

Anyway, so very early Saturday morning I finished my rough draft. I decided to take many days off to play video games, watch Dr. Who and crotchet, and do other less productive things while I let the writing brain take a break. Last night I got so bored playing video games. Tonight, I will try to get some television time for the Doctor and blanket making, but I still think I will be restless.  I want to write. I think I pushed through that little broken spot, and now I want to work again. So, starting tomorrow night, I’m going back through the first part of the story I start over a year ago and working on it some more. It makes happy to have that drive again.

Yet another example of what my boyfriend puts up with.

Yet another example of what my boyfriend puts up with.

The Viking will log on to an IM with me some nights while he is doing homework, and we talk when he takes brain breaks, and I say the weirdest shit to him while he is busy. Not long after this I did a long bit of emoticon boobs of different sizes and shapes. I don’t know if this is the sort of thing he loves me for or in spite of.

Okay, so, sometimes something  happens that makes me realize I’m a bigger dork than even I realize. There is this banging  (I’ve decided to start using slang, because I am so bad at it that it amuses me) writing/ grammar software called Grammarly. I’ve been wanting it forever now, and today I found out they have an add-in for Mozzila Fire Fox that does many of the function but only all over the interwebz. I flipped ALL THE WAY OUT. Seriously, I posted about it on Facebook on both my personal page and the blog’s page. I linked it. I was that excited. I’m still excited. It makes me sad about me, because it is further proof I am a bigger dork than I ever imagined. It is a grammar and spell checker. I need a comma checker now.

I’m reading this Andre Norton book right now, and the elves are a race of fussy, foppish, gigantic douchebags. Even if everything else about the book sucked, I would keep reading it because I hate elves. They are fussy, pretty, pretentious, douchebags. And, I have the strangest prejudices ever.

I’m going to go do other things with my apple sauce brain.

 
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A Whole Lot of Wonderful (and Me doing the Ugly Cry.)

Thursday night was one of the most incredible nights of my life, and definitely the best thing that has ever happened to me as a writer.

I still really don’t know how to express what it was like to have an out pouring like I received Thursday night. I’m finalizing a few things with Paypal, but after that is done, I will be paying for a full year of web hosting. I have one more year guaranteed to do something that means the world to me.

What really, really made me ugly cry, though, is how much love I felt from you guys. I don’t feel like it was charity, I felt like you guys were telling me you believed in me. That means everything in the world to me. When I waiver and get scared that I’m wasting my time and should give up and get a real job, I will remember this. Kindness matters and changes lives. Thank you. And now, when faced with the voices of doubt in my head, I can say I AM a real writer.This is a real job. Thank you.

I stayed up all night last night, well until 5 am, finishing the rough draft on the last part of my book. I’ve now written two books through rough draft stage. The first one was a learning experience best used as salvage for other things, but it gave me experience, and it gave me pride. I still have a lot of work on this second book, but I can do it.

Thank you again. If I could you would all get one of these:

I'm not sure it is feasible to send all of my readers a box full of corgi wonderful, though

I’m not sure it is feasible to send all of my readers a box full of corgi wonderful, though

I had to throw in a corgi somewhere.

 
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Passing The Hat

So, here is the the thing, I have no problem telling people about great charities or places to help. I believe with every part of my soul people want to be a part of something good, and that two dollars can change the world. I believe many people can get an intense feeling of good and joy from doing good. Some people say giving because it makes you feel good means it is less altruistic, but I believe it is a manifestation of feeling like we did something good, and that happiness spreads and make more good. I know, totally dirty hippie of me.

That being said: I would rather rip out my own fingernails than ask for money for what I felt like selfish reasons. It stretches and frays every bit of pride I have to take all of my help from my parents. I have to remind myself how much I do for them in order not to hate myself. It bothers me that my friends know they are going to have to pay to do something with me more exotic than a cheap dinner. And, let’s just leave it at that the Viking is a saint, and I can’t wait for the day I can take him out to dinner. It kills me and my pride.

But, Amanda Palmer told me people want to pay for things they believe in.

So, here it goes. May 16th the 54 dollars for six months of my web hosting comes due. If I want to keep this site going, I have to find a way to pay for it. On the sidebar there is a Paypal donate button.

I don’t have anything to offer, except the thing I always offer on this site, me. I believe in what I do. I believe that being someone who stands up and says “look at how imperfect I am, just like you” can make other people feel less alone and less strange. I believe in making connections. I believe in the power of being vulnerable and showing people who you really are without worrying about image or product. Most people have reasons they can’t be open about their gore and bits and what they believe. I can be, so I should be.

I have spent so much of my life feeling like the only one who didn’t get the playbook. I felt alien walking around all these folks who got it. I felt alone. Then I noticed when I started being honest and opening up, everyone else felt the same way, too. We all feel alone, not good enough, or like we to be a certain way in order to deserve love and acceptance. We feel this way because we spend so much time bumping around the world with our guards up, never showing people our fluffy bits. We feel alone because we isolate ourselves out of fear.

My life changed when I took down the armor. I believe that people benefit from seeing others without their armor, because it is how we create true connection, and that is what we all really want, true connection. So, I’m taking down one of my last bits of armor. I’m asking you guys for help in keeping this strange experiment going.

There is a Paypal donate button on the sidebar. If you have some extra dollars, throw it in the hat. I have a little over two weeks to raise the $54. If I can’t, the world won’t end. I’ll find some way to keep this site going. No matter what, I will keep writing and being a red hot mess. I will keep over sharing and pissing people off. I will keep trying to be myself.

To sweeten the deal, if I raise the $54 I promise to make an ass out of my self on video. Tina promised to help. I’ll take input in blog comments and on my FB page as to how I am to make myself look like an idiot. It will be your time to exact your revenge for all my damn PMS posts.

I will leave you with the quote from Doctor Who that made me realize that it was far more than a fun little show:

I cried. This is when I really understood the Doctor

I cried. This is when I really understood the Doctor

 
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Bending Space and Time WITH MY MIND

So, yeah, caffeine

Lots and lots of caffeine

It isn’t all my fault. The world isn’t always friendly to day sleepers.

More importantly, the thing with my writing I’ve been trying to force finally happened. I’ve obviously been struggling with my writing for a few months now. Some of it was life, and I can’t help that. The creative stuff, though, kills me when it isn’t there. I’ve been pushing on this current project. I missed my characters. I missed my story. I wanted to write it, but every night I would sit down and try to reach for the story. It was like spinning gears. Something was just slightly off and, while everything spun, nothing worked together and moved. I kept forcing it, though, and Sunday night I figured out a tiny plot point that slid everything else into place.  My story makes sense. I know where I am going next. I’m so happy.

I’ve never hidden the fact I’m not happy when I’m not writing. I get frustrated because I feel like I should just be able to do it. My self worth is tied into what I do. I don’t like feeling like I’m not doing anything. I’ve been pushing and pushing and pushing trying to make it work, and finally, almost as an accident, I finally got it.

Between the sleep deprivation, the caffeine, and the hyper, I’m pretty sure I’m going to learn spontaneous human teleportation tonight.

Otter theif

An otter with an ice cream sandwich. How is this anything other than awesome?

I also decided to start working out again. I haven’t been happy with how my body feels for a long time. For me, it isn’t so much about weight, but more about how I feel. I’ve always been overweight, but for most of my life, I’ve felt strong. Several months ago I noticed that I am feeling weaker and weaker. I’m starting to feel my body is a trap. I can’t have that. It scared and depressed the shit out of me. I’ve found excuse after excuse to avoid making changes. I’ve dealt with little failure after little  failure, but yesterday I did my Pilates DVD. I’ve decided to go slow and make life changes bit by bit. I might write about it a lot. I’m sorry. I know it will get boring, but I have to feel accountable to someone. So, I’m being accountable to my blog friends. This week and next I’m going to do Pilates Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. After these two weeks, I will see how my body feels, and I will add either walking at the park with my dog or riding the recombinant bike. I miss the joy of movement I feel when I work out. I might fail, but I hope I keep trying.

I’ve noticed that about my life. I have cycles of progress and stagnation. I fail a lot. I live a life full of good intentions and belief, but a lot of time I fail. I keep trying, though. I don’t know what else to do. Does everyone else feel like they are making up this shit as they go along, too?

 
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Bits, Bobs, and Ferengis (NSFW)

First, Required Monthly Corgi (again) brought to you by my friend Renee:

Oh, the cute is making my head feel a little explodey

Oh, the cute is making my head feel a little explodey

This is another one of those posts without a single unifying purpose, just a bunch of random crap cobbled together because they exist in my head.

I started watching the Doctor Who. The first couple of episodes were cool, but I couldn’t see what everyone was FREAKING THE FRELL out about. About episode five I got it. I watched episode ten last night, and I totally get it. Holy freaking shiv, the show is incredible. The story telling and acting is stellar. I’ll admit this too: it appeals to my feminist sensibilities.

I’ve come to accept that my life will always have a feminist lens from here on out. I don’t know how I feel about it, but I know it’s there now. Doctor Who kicks ass. Most things with the male ‘lead’ and female ‘companion’ have an element of the big strong man protecting the screaming female. Rose screams, but she also kicks everyone’s ass. The series, so far, has been full of smart, resourceful characters who solve problems as much with their brains and bravery than force. Gender doesn’t matter. It is wonderful, and I’m seriously entranced. If I ever breed, I’m making my kids watch the show to help ensure their awesome.

Okay, insanely silly side note: I got a second set of holes in my ears so I can wear the earring the Viking bought me all the time. (I’m pretty sure I dangled a modifier there, but I like to live on the edge.) I promised him I wouldn’t put so many holes in my ears I ended up looking like a female Ferengi.

So Tina doesn’t have to use the Google:

This is a sexy, sexy Ferengi woman

This is a sexy, sexy Ferengi woman (Updated: I just realized that some of you might not get the funny. It’s one of the male Ferengi characters in drag. Yep, an alien. You are welcome my friends.)

For everyone else: this is what happens when you go to the weird parts of the interwebz:

Rule 34 OR Ferengi Ta-tas

Rule 34 OR Ferengi Ta-tas

Also, when did I become all crafty and shit? I was pretty sure I got over my crafty tendencies when I stopped working with the Girl Scouts, but over about the past year, I’ve started making things and googling strange shit like  how to preserve flowers. I got excited about picking out yarn today because I’m crocheting a damn blanket. Yep. That’s right. I’m crocheting now. I just finished knitting the dopest, freshest headband in EXISTENCE. Well, okay, a six year old in the 1890′s would be embarrassed by how badly made it is, but I’m proud. I mostly stayed with uniform amounts of stitches. Remember when I was too busy gaming to do thing like knit? I don’t know if I’ve digressed or not.

Yeah… I think that covers it.

Oh, to help you recover from the Star Trek porn:

TO THE DEATH

TO THE DEATH

 

 

 
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Upset

Yesterday, someone placed bombs at the finish line of a major American event. These bombs were filled with ball bearings meant to rip through flesh and bone causing maximum damage. They waited to set off the bombs until the largest pack of runners was crossing the finish line, hours after the winners had crossed. Everything was coordinated to cause the most damage and terror possible. It worked.

I’m upset, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with my upset.

I’m an emotional and empathetic person. It is part of what makes me a good friend/daughter/girlfriend/writer/caretaker/human being.  I told my dad what happened yesterday when he got off work and then went to the store. I was so upset in the store, I forgot the main reason I went, and I cried on the way home. It doesn’t make me weak or stupid. It makes me human.

I still don’t know what to do with the upset. I want to call the Viking and make him listen to me cry, because he is my safe place. Tonight, perhaps, I will do that. Chances are I will write through my thoughts on my blue legal pads were my scratch thoughts go. I won’t stop trying to feel.

I can say I learned/realized somethings about people and social media.

My very first instinct after reading the new reports was to go to Facebook. It is the easiest connection to those I care about, and I needed connection right then.

I have spent a lot of my social media life rolling my eyes at things people do on Facebook. ‘If we get one million likes’ or ‘good Americans/Christians/Atheists/moose lovers will repost this, but 98% of your friends won’t be brave enough to’ posts are still obnoxious. There are still people being fake on Facebook and attention whore. It is just like real life.

What I learned to stop rolling my eyes at are genuine posts from people with things like “Pray for Boston” or “Thoughts for Boston.” I used to think these posts were as useless as tits on a boar hog. I felt they were grandstanding, trying to show how good the person is. Some of these posts still are. Other people, though, post these things because they don’t know how else to say “I’m hurting, and I need connection.” Being confused, hurt, or scared isn’t weakness. It is being human.

I saw a lot of the opposite end of the spectrum, too. I saw a lot of posts basically calling people idiots for writing about being scared, hurt, or confused. I really wanted to lash out on these posts. Yes, bad things happen all over the world every day; many with greater damage than what happened yesterday. Yes, your prayers and thoughts don’t regrow limbs or pay for medical bills. Yes, many of these people posting things right now won’t do anything “useful” to help the victims. They do show others of us that we are hurting, and sometimes, when you are a weird overly empathetic girl in  Oklahoma on the verge of tears because you don’t know what to do with your upset, seeing you are not alone does a lot of good.

Oh, I wanted to lash out, and I did a little. Then I got to thinking.

Cynicism is another way of coping. The world is a scary, dark, dangerous place if you look too hard at  only the wrong things. There is no such thing as truly being safe. You never know what is going to happen, and we have no control over anything but ourselves. Bad things happen on both big and little scales every moment of every day. It is scary as shit. Sometimes, people find the best way to deal with it is to armor themselves against it. They wrap themselves in logic and a mild disdain for the world. I get it now, and I can’t begrudge them that any more than they can begrudge me saying “I’m hurting, is there anyone else out there?”

I also learned something else. A few weeks back, I changed my profile picture and that of the site’s Facebook pace to the pink and red equal signs. It was a profoundly useless gesture. The Supreme Court isn’t going to look at Facebook and change their opinions. No politician or homophobic is going to see my little pink and red picture and see the light. It’s not going to happen. You know what did happen though? I saw my friends list become a field of pink and red equals signs, and I realized how many of my friends are with me on something I believe in. I felt a part of something. It won’t change the world, but it did bolster me. I don’t consider it totally useless.

(Yes, I know that is self-serving and narcissistic, but everyone is, we just like to pretend we aren’t. If it helps me, and it helps someone else, then  it does serve a purpose.)

 

 
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Odd and Ends

I present, for your entertainment, the shit my wonderful boyfriend has to put up with.

This is why you should feel sorry for my boyfriend.  I'm weird AND I post screen shots of my conversation madness.

This is why you should feel sorry for my boyfriend. I’m weird AND I post screen shots of our conversations.

 

So, I don’t have enough coherent thoughts to make a cohesive blog, so I’m going to give you some odds and ends of my life lately.

First, because of a conversation I had with myself on the way home from the Super Wal-Mart, I just Googled “Do people eat giraffes?” I suspected they did, but I just wanted to be sure. Giraffes might be poison meat. Why was I thinking about eating giraffes you might ask. No? You weren’t asking yourself that? I’mma tell you anyway. I was thinking about how the Rothschild giraffe being named after the white dood who “discovered” it. I was laughing about that in my head because I’m pretty sure people were eating them well before Lord Rothschild walked up on them. (Apparently, he was a pretty big deal in the zoological world, but my point still stands.)

Today I had the house to myself so I turned off the television. Turning off the television is about my favorite thing to do with a television. I sat in my quiet living room and had a think. My favorite think to do in a quiet living room is think thoughts. I began wondering if we are losing that ability as a species. Sometimes I love to sit and think. I love electronics. My cellphone and Kindle are extensions of my soul, and I might be willing to give up an extraneous organ or two for my computer, but sometimes I love sitting with out anything to keep my attention busy. I was having a grand ole think about how the modern era is destroying our attention spans and our ability to interact with the world. Then I realized I sounded like a prick to even myself and moved on.

I have another weird internal debate. I know some women who flip out when men open doors for them or pay for dinner. They feel like it is degrading them. I don’t see it. I’ll be the first person to admit, for a staunch feminist (Tina’s descriptor, not mine), I’m oddly traditional. When anyone holds open the door for me, I see it as a kindness, not as a sign they think I’m too weak to do it myself. I hold open the door for all manner of folks out of respect and/or kindness. The Viking and I have a game I love. He unlocks and opens my car door and I get in and rush to unlock his door for him before he gets to it. It melts me that he opens the car door for me sometimes, and I love trying to show him the little bit of consideration of unlocking his door. I think that is part of what helps happiness in relationships, caring enough to do the small things for the other person.

I got to thinking today that I might be missing something in the door thing, though. I really don’t think so, but if I am, please tell me.

Anyway, taters precious…

 

 
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Nothing to See Here

Happiness is a pile of long, short dogs.

Happiness is a pile of long, short dogs.

So, I’m still happy and content like I was last post. Things are still kind of normal, well as normal as they get. I am feeling really really boring. If I reached I could find something to rant about (I went off on George R. R. Martin’s female characters on a friends Facebook page), but I don’t feel like it. I feel like enjoying this bit of calm. It makes me a miserably boring blogger but a happy person.

 
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Taking Stock

Screw Y'all I'm DONE

Screw Y’all I’m DONE

So, I’m drinking apple ale and eating Hershey’s Cookies and Cream Easter egg thingies.  Aside from allergies, life is good. It, unfortunately leaves me with nothing to write about. I’m kinda stoked about that. If I’ve missed blog days in the past three months it as either because something was exploding or I was so depressed I didn’t want to write. Okay, Okay, that is a bit of an exaggeration. There were several days in there when I was busy for good things.

All of that is beside the point. I’m happy. I’ve had a string of happy days. Yes, the past two days I have been to the Super Wal-mart both days, and it was a MAD HOUSE. I haven’t done much writing. I made the mistake of starting one of my favorite trilogies of all times (The Tawny Man by Robin Hobb), and I’m having issues pulling away from that. I’ve decided to stop trying, finish the last book and a half, and then pick a less interesting book to read next time.

If I were really, super honest with myself, I would admit a lot of my happy and distraction is because of the Viking. A year ago tomorrow, I was having an incredible day with my friend Renee, first at the the medieval fair then at our friend Angela’s baby shower. Somewhere in that day of awesome, I told Renee I was giving up on men, shutting down my Plenty of Fish profile because only creeps had messaged me, and focus full force on my writing. That night the most incredible and strangest man in the world favorited me  on the site and I messaged him. My life hasn’t been the same since. I know, I know, sappy as hell.

Next Saturday, I’m spending the day with Renee and my goddaughter at the medieval fair again. My relationship with Renee is another strange and wonderful thing. I love her dearly, and I have for many years. We see each other four times a year, at most. We talk on the phone maybe once or twice a year. Most of our communication is done on Facebook. But, even with our sporadic contact, our friendship stays strong. Our relationship is like a rock we can always return to and find an ease and comfort of someone who knows you and cares deeply for you without recriminations.  I’m just really looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe I won’t get a sunburn this time.

I think right now I’m going to take a deep breath and take inventory of all of the good in my life. I’ve been so focused on what I’ve had to do or what I was doing wrong or what was going wrong, I had a hard time being genuinely grateful. Sometimes, it is impossible to be grateful to your core.  Sometimes it is impossible to even pretend to be grateful at all. I know this, but I also know I’m happier when I can find it in me.

I know, well when I’m calm I know, I have a life filled with strange and wonderful blessing and strange and wonderful people. Things will get stressful, and I will forget. I hope I will always find a way to remember though.

 
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That’s About It

Required monthly corgi: the look of betrayal on her face!

Required monthly corgi: the look of betrayal on her face!

There are only two things on my mind right now: writing and gay rights.

I really, really want to write about gay rights but I feel like I have been too ranty lately. Oh well, I’m going to do it anyway.

Here is the it of it: there is no logical, legal reason to ban gay marriage. Every single argument against gay marriage boils down to ‘I think it’s weird and icky.’

Marriage is not a purely Christian institution. I know several non-Christians who are married. The main stream pro-gay marriage movement has no desire to force churches to perform same sex marriages. Same sex couples simply want the ability to get a legal marriage and be afforded the same rights everyone else has. If there is ever a movement towards the government forcing churches to perform same sex marriage, I will protest just as loudly as I am now.

I’m not going to argue with anybody about the legitimacy of believing homosexuality is wrong. Except for a certain few people in my life, I can care less if you think same sex relationships are wrong. The truth is it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to argue semantics or doctrine or anything else. Believe what you want. Do not take away the rights of others because of your beliefs.

We live in the United States of America. We have the Constitution and a Bill of Rights. The very first amendment of our Constitution promises freedom of religion. Anyone who believes gay marriage is wrong is perfectly free to not get gay married, but they do not have the right to force their religious beliefs on others.

I make this point because every single argument I have ever heard against same sex marriage is religious based.

Denying people basic human rights based on religion is not American. Giving people their basic rights does not take away from yours.

To sum up:

Hate gay people all you want. No one really cares as long as you don’t  infringe on other people’s rights and freedoms.

Just no.

 

 
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