Mar 02

The Pat Down

Three major things before I move on: I want some sweet iced tea, I’m excited to be writing, and I need a nap.

I cheated a little bit and had some Cadbury mini-eggs. I want sweet tea, even if it is Splenda sweetened sweet tea. I think I might steal some from a child if I saw one with a big glass of it. This too will pass. ARRRGGGGHH

Okay, so we all know I wrote a short story that turned into a novella and is now turning into a book. Like most things in my life, I start with a plan and stuff takes a life of its own. I think it is important to keep trying to move forward in life and not to let life get out of your control, but sometimes you just have to let things unfold how they unfold. I’m less like a car driver on the highway and more like steering a sailboat down a river. This is how a lot of really good things in my life have happened.

I haven’t written a lot of words in the past few days, but I’ve done a lot of thinking and figuring out. Sometimes stories are like slider puzzles, you gotta shift around the pieces until they click. I got them clicked now time for the work. I was looking forward to going to Tina’s foe a few days this week, but I feel like I need to stay here.

As soon as I get done writing this I am going to curl up in my bed and take a pre-work nap. I still work best between 10pm and 6am, but I find it necessary to wake up before 11am. My family still needs a lot of help. I’m tired, want sweet tea, and I’m cranky, but I’m getting things done.

I know I’m not the only woman who does this:

Most of the time I don’t wear clothes with pockets, so my cell phone lives in my bra. Sometimes my lip balm joins it. It’s just convenient. I just always feel funny when I try to find my phone and I pat my boobs down trying to find it. At least I’m seeing some action that day. It is also very strange when you get the phantom text message vibrations. I poke my boob way more than normal people. The best is when I forget that I’ve squirreled it safely in my bra, go out into public, and get a phone call. I get the best strange looks.

 

 

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Feb 28

Prepare Yourselves!

I made a big decision about two weeks ago. As of tomorrow, I’m not adding sugar or artificial sweeteners to anything I consume. I’m not going to drink any more sugar-y or artificially sweetened drinks. I’ll still use my Wal-mart brand light vanilla soy milk in my coffee, but I’m going to drink unsweetened tea or water aside from that. I’m also cutting out all sweets.

There are a few reasons for this decision, but it boils down to I have too much sweet foods and drinks in my diet. I find myself adding progressively more Splenda things to make them sweet enough, and I’m craving candy/sweets more than I have ever before. I feel like if I can go one month with my sugar intake being a bare minimum, I can basically reset myself to healthier levels.

I’m not going on a diet. I’m not cutting out carbohydrates all together. I’m trying one change at a time. I want to eat more healthfully without turning diet and exercise into the focus of my life. I’m going to try a lot of things, one at a time, and I might fail, but I’m going to try.

I’m also going to fight my family for control over the television for 30 minutes a day so I can restart Pilates. After about a month of regular Pilates, I’m going to add in other forms of exercise, probably walking or recumbent biking. I’m not going to track everything obsessively like I did for that 6 weeks last year, but I am going to make changes.

It’s funny I decide to make these changes when I feel sexier, more beautiful, and more powerful than I have in my life. I’m just not happy with the way my body feels right now. For the first time in years, my body feels weak. My back hurts a lot. I just want to feel better.

For the first time in my life, I’m making changes for myself, not so I can  feel more worthy of love or to fix something that is wrong with me.

No matter how much I never admitted it to myself, I’ve never felt worthy of love. I’ve never felt like anyone would find me attractive or want to sleep with me. Every time I’ve tried to lose weight it was to fix myself so I would finally be worthy.

Not this time. This time it is for me.

I have a loving, kind, wonderful boyfriend who makes me feel cherished and sexy as hell. I feel beautiful. I don’t feel like I need to be fixed. Maybe, this time, my changes will stick. Maybe I will be able to be healthier.

I might fail.

So what?

I’ve learned failure isn’t the worst thing in life; atrophy is. I just need to keep trying.

So, prepare yourselves. I might be crankier than normal in March. I might write a lot about food and exercise. I might bitch. I might fail. I have to try.

 

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Feb 26

Rum Ice Cream and Other Happy Things

Holy shiv, I just mixed a little rum with some no sugar added vanilla ice cream. It was like the hand of some deity coming down and blessing me with rum goodness. And, no, it wasn’t a lot of rum. I’m just a goofball.

So, yeah, I realized I slammed some bitch down on Thursday and then didn’t write anything at all on Saturday. My bad. Things were getting to me on Thursday. I didn’t handle them like a grown up. I sent Tina some text message that were like a foul-mouthed three year-old throwing a fit. Saturday I was just blargh.

If you guys haven’t noticed my life has been a little upheaval-y lately. Between my sicknesses, other’s sickness, surgery, near death experiences, hospital stays, and recuperation, I’ve been out of whack since the beginning of December. It is just how life is, and sometimes my ability to roll with it breaks. Most of the time I’m a pretty happy person then I just have times I’m not.

I’m going to admit something I’m afraid to even say to myself: I fear that I might be bi-polar.

Logically, I know being bi-polar is not the end of the world. I’ve seen people I love struggle with it, but I know a lot more people who live well with it. I also know logically that my ups and downs are not as bad as most true bi-polar people. My nature is to be happy but I have jacked up brain chemistry that makes me depressed sometimes. I think I worry that my moods are more dramatic than other people because I am so introspective and I made the decision two years ago to be true to my emotions. I also think my emotions aren’t stronger than other people’s, I just feel like they are because I’m not in everyone else’s brain. It’s kinda like how we all feel like a weirdo.

I still worry a little about my writing fits when I work without proper sleep for days until I’m either done or just exhausted. I worry it’s little mania fits. I want to brush it off as being a creative person. I don’t know. I probably think about all of this too much. I feel like I write about being nuts waaaay too much.

Anyway…

Back on track:

I’ve been off kilter because life does that. Circumstances changed so I could stay up until 4 a.m writing last night. It was wonderful. I felt my characters again. I felt the story. The stage fright went away quicker. It felt good. I’ve been excited all day to get to writing tonight. (I fully expect a bit of procrastination.)

I think my happiness is just dependent on being a night person and writing. Too bad so many people need me to be a day walker at times.

 

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Feb 21

I Drank My Glass of Bitch

Hold on to your hats, Cats and Kittens, I drank my glass of bitch this morning and I’ve decided to go off on a few things.

I am really growing to hate the CNN. The CNN itself is okay. I don’t trust most media sources, and the CNN does that obnoxious thing of taking something and freaking the fuck out about it until I want to stab my own ear drums out. All news sources do this, so it only bugs me a little. Why I really hate the CNN is because my dad watches it for hours every morning and bitches about what is on it. I swear to gawd if I hear more stuff about gun control on either side I will flip the fuck out. ALL THE WAY OUT. I get my news off the interwebz from several sources, but I don’t think “news” saturation for hours is healthy. Oh, and most of the “news” on all of the news channels is just a bunch of talking heads blathering. If I wanted that, I would read my blog.

So, I know a lot of people deny there is a need for feminism in the world. Women are equal, un-objectified, and treated with fairness. This is what I have to say to that: fuck you rape culture. What is rape culture, you might ask? Our culture is rape culture. We go apeshit when a woman in India is gang raped and dies, as we should, but when a teenage girl in Steubenville, Ohio is dragged unconscious from party to party to be assaulted while asshole video tape, Facebook, and Tweet the damn crime, our rage is pretty subdued. There is evidence this girl was assaulted at COACHES homes. They were football players so no one seems in that big of a hurry to prosecute. News articles here.

Another girl was gang raped by some high school boys who posted stories of her attack on the internet. The judge put a gag order on the case, so when the girl said something about her attackers, she was arrested. Mind you, she never mentioned anything in court, just the boys names. Their names weren’t a secret BECAUSE THEY POSTED ABOUT HER RAPE ALREADY.

Okay, back to ‘Fuck You, rape culture,’ I know we have it built into our system because I had it programmed into me, too. Think about some of the things we think when we hear a girl was raped, if we hear at all. We wonder what she was wearing, where she was at, or if she was inebriated. Guess what? None of that matters. A woman can pass out while naked in the middle of a bar and not be at fault for her rape. Human males are not mindless fuck machines that see female skin and lose all control of themselves. The attackers are to blame no matter how short her skirt was or how drunk she was.

Think about how many bros get drunk at bars and take off their shirts. Does their drunken, undressed states make it okay for us to pull down their pants and sodomize them?

Exactly.

Next time you hear about a woman being assaulted and you think these things, stop yourself and instead think about how strong she is for reporting the assault. Train your sons to understand that rape culture demeans them, too. Get pissed off. Talk about what happened to you. I know far too many women who have been sexually abused and assaulted, and I feel that they should tell their stories. It is time for women to stand up against it. It is far too common and not at all okay.

The bitch juice has bled from my body.

 

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Feb 20

Stage Fright

Neil Gaimon

This is Neil Gaiman. He is a demi-god among men. React appropriately.

The other day on Facebook, Neil Gaiman wrote a status about getting over his stage fright and getting back into his characters.

It stuck with me. He is absolutely correct. The fear, self-doubt, and anxiety I feel every time I open whatever story I’m working on is exactly that, stage fright. If I’m really into what I’m writing, on one of my ‘writing kicks’, I don’t have it, or it is so minimal I don’t even notice it. Most days, though, I have to fight through all kinds of mess in my head to write.

I think it is why so many of us drink or do drugs. We have to fight to get into our head properly then fight to get out. It is quite a trick. If things are good we are not in the same real world as everyone else. When things are bad, we struggle to find our other realities. We are always trying to be somewhere else while most of us still have to try to function in everyone else’s world. Writers are never quite happy with where they are. Weird, I know.

Most days I would love to be able to slip in and out of a state of wandering around mumbling to my characters and looking at those around me and asking them random questions about the plot points in my head. One day, maybe when I’m a real writer, I will be able to accomplish it at will. I certainly can’t now.

Now I open something I’m writing and immediately freeze up. Even if I know what I’m writing, or like what I’m writing, I still get paralyzed by the stage lights. Even if I know my characters and where they want to go, I hyperventilate a little.

I know the feeling, I’ve acted before and given speeches. I’m kinda terrible at both. I’m terrified of reading out loud and presenting my paper for Historical Research and Writing in college was a slice of hell. I know I can reach people when I speak. I’ve had people react to speeches I’ve given, but the act of speaking is pure terror. I’m pretty sure I closed my eyes and just started talking during one.

Oddly enough, I rarely feel stage fright when I write here. I think this page is the equivalent of closing my eyes and bumbling through my heart.

My logic brain kicks in and asks me why I try to write. I ask myself why I want to be a writer even though it means fear almost every time I do it. Because I have no choice. Writers write. It’s what we do. Life has made it difficult for me to write lately. I’ve been taking care of someone or been sick since the beginning of December. I was too emotionally messed up after Dad’s hospital stay to think much less write. Tonight I started itching though.

When I start to miss writing, it is like my skin itches on the inside. My brain chews and works. I get bored with everything. Something inside of me feels like it is pacing like an impatient tiger.  Sometimes I need to write like this, bumbling with my eyes closed, and sometimes I need to tell a story. I miss my stories. I miss my novella. I feel their world hovering right there. It might be time to try and visit them.

Everyone who performs knows one simple thing: stage fright sucks, but it is totally worth it when you get over it.

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Feb 19

As Promised

So, since most people who read this are also my Facebook friends, you know that I made the Viking a cake for Valentine’s Day. I was trying to figure out something to buy him but nothing seemed like a good gift (that I could actually afford), and then I remembered Tina telling me people who like to bake and have a talent for it should.

I started out with this recipe, but I couldn’t leave it there. I added some stuff including bacon.

ManCake

It says “I Love You… Kinda” but my attempts at cake decorating always end up looking like death threats.

The Viking Bacon ManCake

Supplies:

Cake:

1lb maple bacon

1 cup evaporated milk (Annoying side note: they sell 6oz and 12oz cans so you will have some left over.)

4 ounces of white chocolate baker’s squares chopped

1 cup (2 sticks) softened butter

1 2/3 cup sugar

5 eggs

2 3/4 cups all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon plus a little more salt

1 tablespoon-ish vanilla

Icing:

3 oz of chopped baker’s white chocolate

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter

2 cups powdered sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

1-2 tablespoons milk

1 crushed frozen strawberry

Cake Procedure:

1 Make you some bacon. I cut mine up into half inch strips with a pair of scissors as I was putting into the pan to cook to make sure it was bite sized. Cook it fairly well done, and set it off to drain. In theory, the entire pound goes in the cake but we all know some will be eaten far before the batter is ready.

2. Melt the chocolate with the evaporated milk in a pan on low heat. Milk gets this hazy foam-film as it heats up before it boils. You want it hot enough to do that but not enough to boil.

3. Beat the softened butter with the sugar. The proper cooking term is “cream” the butter and sugar, but that sounds dirty and slightly misleading. After you get them properly beaten, add an egg and incorporate it. Do this for more times. It’s a pain in the ass, but I’m sure it serves a purpose.

4. Mix the flour, salt, and baking soda together. I still sift my flour. I’m pretty sure I’m nuts for doing that but whatever.

5. This is important: mix stuff together in shifts. Pour some of the butter stuff in and a handful of bacon and beat. Next pour in the chocolate and some bacon and mix. Repeat until everything is added. I got lazy on one attempt and didn’t do this and my cake ended up kinda unmixed and funky.

6. Pour it into a greased bundt or tube pan and cook until the toothpick test. (I’m not going to lie, I had to look up what a tube pan was. It’s an angel food cake pan, just FYI.)

Icing:

1. Take a frozen strawberry, wrap it in a paper towel, and beat the shit out of it until it is shattered.

2. Start melting the butter and white chocolate together on low heat. Add the strawberry bits.

3. After everything is melted, pour in the sugar and the vanilla and mix it. Add as much milk as it takes to get a good consistency for the icing. It should be like a glaze.

4. Spoon over the cake

 

Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty sure because of the bacon cake, the Viking thinks I’m the best girlfriend ever.

It is a cake with BACON

How could it not be awesome?

 

 

 

 

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Feb 16

A Little Bit of Something

I have baking and cleaning and self prettifying to do today, so I’m kinda bullshitting today’s post. I’ll make it up to you guys who care about my baking stories when I write about the Viking Man Cake I made up for tonight. I have to wait to write about it until Tuesday AFTER I’ve given it to the Viking for Valentine’s Day.

So, instead I’m posting a few funny videos. I’ve discovered Harlem Shake videos make me happy.

^ Makes me happy because it is a veritable ‘Where’s Waldo’ of dorky people doing dorky things.

This one is awesome and it should be obvious why pretty quickly:

This song is what I’ve been singing like a crazy person…. WARNING NIPPLES AND LADY GARDENS

I gotta go check my cake.

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Feb 14

Attempts at Normalcy

As all of you probably know, Dad got to come home last night after 5 days in the hospital. When the doctor told us he was going home I nearly cheered and cried at the same time, but I’m pretty sure that would have startled the doctor so I stayed quiet, a rare enough occurrence on it’s own.

Things are oddly normal now. He still has the busted wing, and we still are taking care of him. I’m still exhausted. The television is too loud, and the dogs are driving me nuts. I’m went to the super wal-mart, cooked dinner, and did a baking experiment. He’s begging for food he can’t have. Life is pretty normal.

Then I see him look tired or hear him yelp in pain (in the most manly way possible, I assure you), and I remember Friday.

I remember my dad nearly died.

It is so scary I nearly start shaking. I think I’ve processed it, dealt with it, and filed it away, but I know I haven’t. I feel weird writing about it here, like if by typing it, I make a thing more real and inviting bad luck. It does make it more real I guess. I don’t quite understand it myself. I feel like I should just be happy everything is okay. I feel like I should focus only what is good that came out of it. Plenty of good did happen. I got to spend more time with both my dad and my sister than I ever have. I feel like I know them better as people.  But part of me hangs up on the fact I probably saved my dad’s life. My brain sticks like a needle on a scratched record that they used the paddles on him in the ambulance.

I don’t know how to deal with it yet. I’ve decided to take an emotional break. I’m going to focus on things like my Valentine’s day with the Viking on Saturday and getting some rest. Whenever that fear comes up and my heart starts to pound, I’ll look at it and nod, knowing what it is. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t there. I don’t know much else to do.

There is always baking.

 

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Feb 11

Because You Never Know

Let me start this by saying that things are fine now.

But there have a couple times over the past few days when it looked like they might not be. I’m not going to go into a whole lot of detail, but Friday my dad developed some complications with his surgery, and I thought we might lose him. Friday was the scariest day of my life. He’s still in the hospital in the city, but just while they get his medicines right, and everything is going to be okay.

I just know that if certain things wouldn’t have went exactly the way they did, my life would be very different than it is now. Its a scary fucking thought, but I also feel very very lucky.

Here is what I’m taking from it: you never know. You never know what happens next. There is no such thing as true safety and life can change at any second. I’ve always felt this way but never as much as I do now. I think deep down we all know this. So much of our lives are built around the way we react to this basic truth. We try to control it by making things safer, sometimes it is actually helpful like seat belts, and sometimes it is just grasping at sand. Part of our drive for religion is to make sense, to give the events of our lives a sense. I’m not saying it is wrong. I’ve prayed in my own way in more ways than I can explain, and even if there is no higher power to hear or care about my pleas, I received some comfort for making those pleas, and it served it purpose.

The simple truth is you never know.

I’ve been feeling a little lost lately, like I should give up on trying to write and make a difference, but I can’t. Life is uncertain. It is scary and wonderful and insane. We have to find our way to deal with it. I realized that I  developed my coping mechanism a few years ago. Anything can happen, so grab onto everything you can. I want to love as much as I can. I want dream as hard as my soul can dream. I want to laugh at every chance I get, and I want to try and recognize all of the wonderful things in my life as much as life will let me.

Things can be fleeting, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Things might change, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t appreciate them as they are here with us. I decided when I first started dating the Viking that I was going to be as passionate and intense and strange and emotional as I truly am instead of trying to mute myself. I wanted to love on my own terms, and even if things went bad with him, at least I had tried. He has always proven me right. I think that is the example of how I try to live my life. You have to grab hold and give it everything you can even if it scares the fuck out of you, because you will miss the wonderful and you won’t be any safer because of it. You will only be poorer because you let fear keep you from potentially incredible things.

Trying to be happy is a choice. It can be a hard choice, and no one can always be happy, but we have to decide to work for happiness. We have to find the things that make us happy. For me,  happiness is grabbing on to the love and wonderful in my life with both fists and feeling them. Happiness is finding the small (or large things) in the crap and polishing them and putting them on a shelf to look at when the crap is too deep.

My dad is going to be okay. I am blessed with a wonderful sister that has worked her ass off to build an incredible family and will do anything to help us. Tina is open and giving with her heart and everything she owns, including her shower and her bed. For the first time in my life, I have a mate I can call when everything is bad and I have spent the entire day in turbo take-care-of-shit mode and he will come and let me cry on him. Those are my blessing. Those are the things I’m going to grab on to. It far out ways being dressed badly and smelling weird.

Do me a favor and grab on to something today and really love and appreciate it without fear or barriers. You never know.

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Feb 07

Oh My

Required Monthly Corgi

Required Monthly Corgi

Tuesday, my dad got shoulder surgery, or as Tina puts it, he got his bionic shoulder and should be developing super power soon. It was a much need surgery, and he has been an excellent patient. I’m freaking exhausted.

I have been required to become a day walker, and it is screwing me up so bad. Things should get better next week, until then please please please bare with me.

On a side note, I’m doing much better mentally since the last blog.

I’mma pass out now.

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