The Blogospere is Telling Me Something

Just let the fuzzy dog do his job.

I’ve tried to write a post three times today. The first two where just ‘meh,’ and the third attempt was semi-decent until I blew it up. BLEW IT UP. It was about happiness and how I am blessed and shit. I think something is telling me you people aren’t wanting to read about that, and I am not going to attempt to write about it again out of fear of losing a digit to my laptop imploding from not listening the first three times.

I think my attempts to be genuine and show even the rough, oddly shaped bits of myself in an experiment of vulnerability and self acceptance is noble and worthy, but I like my eyeballs. I don’t want to risk damaging them in a random spontaneous combustion incident. I know, I know, I’m a pansy.

I can live with it since I still have ten fingers and both of my mostly functioning eyeballs.

So, today look at this BAMF white fuzzy dog going to save the day. Go, white fuzzy dog, go!

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In the Midst of it All

In the middle of everything going on in the world, I am gloriously, delightfully happy. My mom says I am starry-eyed in love, and I don’t deny it. It’s more than the Viking, though he is a HUGE part of it, I am having one of those amazing periods of my life when I see just how very lucky I am. I always know how lucky I am, but at times like these I feel it so much, I feel like it should be pouring from my seams. I’m probably pretty disgusting to normal people, but, honestly, I don’t give a shit. I am going to soak this time in like the sun.

So, today I am going to link awesome things for the List of Happy.

First a flipping awesome music video with Fraggles and a message about doing things even if it scares you:

Then a video about life’s small miracles we should celebrate:

Now links to incredible stories:

This dad is a spectacular man. I want to give him a prize.

I normally hate celebrity “news,” but this is something wonderful.

This is an Asura from the game Guild Wars 2. IT’S NOT A BUNNY. (Okay, that is an inside joke, and only one person will find it funny, but I don’t care.)

cute and dangerous

Deadly genius engineers in tiny cute bodies.

Speaking of a lot of awesome in tiny bodies:

It's science bitches

I love me some science

So, my gentle readers, I hope you guys have some joy. Please forgive my obnoxious happiness, but I won’t apologize for it.

 

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Coffee Good

Okay, this just happened:

Tina: Caius, who loves you most?

Caius (her two year old son): Corndog

Tina: No

Caius: Corndog

Tina: You say “Mommy.”

Caius: Grandma

A few minutes later

Tina: Can I just love you and squeeze you forever?

Caius: Chicken Butt

 

I fell asleep at 10:30pm last night. I haven’t fallen asleep that early in ages. I woke up at 7:30am. By 1pm, I was angry zombie Selina. Normally, I’m okay with being angry zombie Selina, except I was around people I love including two small children. I am pretty sure I didn’t roar at anyone, but I do send out eye bullets full of hate without knowing it.

I have to make it as a writer since it is the only thing I can think of that would allow me not to hate the early life.

To be completely honest, I have nothing other than cute things kids say and not being able to function like a normal people. I am about to break through the wall and be better suited to their schedule. Tuesday I will write more interesting things… possibly.

 

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On A Much Less Rage-y Note

corgi baby

Required Monthly Corgi is brought to you by Renee who left this on my Facebook page yesterday, because she is sweet and epic.

So, uh, yeah sorry about the two previous posts. I have no excuse other than being a hormonal hulk. I’m better now.

Tuesday I traveled an hour north to spend some time with the Tina family. We were busy, so no post. I’m still at the Tina house, but we aren’t busy so I am posting. In fact, we are so not busy I am still in the most awesome white trash tank top and shorts in existence, because that’s how I roll.

I have no idea how long I will be here, and I am okay with it.

My page count on my writing always sucks when I am here, but it does wonders for my writing anyway. Sometimes in order to step out of your world and write a new world you have to change the world around you. It doesn’t hurt that Tina has read my current project, loves it, and is willing to talk to me about it for hours. She also understands the glazed over look I get when I am figuring out stuff in my head.

Plus, listening to children attempt to kill each other in the bathtub does something good for my soul.

I never realize how wrapped up into my own little world I get until I step out of it. I get so involved in my own dramas and emotions and thoughts I lose other bits of me. Sometimes I don’t wonder if that isn’t one of the major ongoing struggles with life, remembering all of who we are.

Okay, so I just learned a lesson, never try to blog with a hyper bored four year-old running around. It is pretty funny to watch her follow her mom while her mom paces around talking on the phone.

I am going to go participate in life. BBL

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I Hate My Damned TV

Or: I have PMS Rage Issues Right Now

I am not one of those pretentious sods who says they hate television and then launch into a diatribe about how worthless modern television is.  I really enjoy some television, and some of it is really bad television. I can watch me some What Not to Wear or Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss or as I call it, fat girls in love.  I love Big Bang Theory or the new show Perception.  I don’t watch TV for a completely different reason.

I almost never have control over it. I am lucky enough to have parents who will support me while I write in exchange for me being a big grown up helper. It works out well for us, most of the time, except when I am the mood PMS queen bitch from hell.

Pathetic Frech Bulldog

This is the perfect visual representation

Between the hours of 8 am and 1am the next morning, someone else has control of the TV. It is almost always on something violent, gross, and uninteresting, a news channel (I’m on politics detox remember), or a fucking British mystery, and it is always loud enough to be heard three houses down.When everyone does finally sleep, though, I get to either turn the television off (one of my favorite things in the world), or I get to watch what I want at a normal volume with the captions on. I have the attention span of a gnat and captions help me pay attention. Most nights, though, I get to have my quiet, alone time.

This beautiful time of peace and tranquility is my time to work. Look, I don’t pretend to understand why the presence of conscious human being in the other room makes it hard for me to write. It shouldn’t. I don’t know why it is different for me to have someone awake at 3 am watching TV in the other room at ear-bleedingly loud levels throws me off my game, but it does.

Now, I know I have some awesome PMS ultra-super-mega emotions right now. I will give you my level of anger and annoyance at the intrusion on my time last night was greatly enhanced by my hulk-like emotions, but I still hate my damned TV even when my hormones aren’t trying to get the world to hate me. I always feel like it is like the little kid who screams, breaks shit, and hits people all the time but never gets reprimanded by its parents.It is a constant annoyance that, if you try to handle, pisses everyone off.

Most of the time, though, I can handle it. Last night, well this morning at 3 am, I sat in my room trying to write, and when that failed, I sat in here and plotted how to murder my television. It started out with simple plans like walking in there and just punching it in its loud face. Slowly the fantasies got more and more extreme and involved more and more heavy construction equipment.

Some how I feel none of this is normal.

 

Disclaimer: I know this is all first world problems, and my annoyance at the television is a bit childish, but fuck you, that’s why. Like I said I am eternally grateful for this opportunity to write, and I understand my parents are amazing to allow me the chance, but I’m allowed to be annoyed, especially when it is funny.

 

Edit: I can’t tell anymore… It is clear that this is a joke, and I am making fun of myself? I tried making that clear in the disclaimer.

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Riding the Wave of Crazy

It is a glorious day outside in Oklahoma. I spent the earlier part of the day doing chores and running errands I had intended to spend the afternoon sitting outside writing. My laptop was taking a very long time to charge and update, and I had been up late the night before, so I slipped into a mini-coma instead. I’m out here now, and that’s what matters, right? I might only have 40 minutes of charge on my battery and six mosquito bites, but I am NOT giving up on the idea of sitting outside on this fine fine day. Stubbornness has its perk, but normally it just ends leaving you itchy and mildly annoyed.

Last Saturday, I did have a rare moment of common sense over my stubbornness. I had planned my afternoon in steps; shower, dressed, store, food, and then get ready for my date, but when I was in the shower I was so hungry my hands were shaking. I think common sense kicked in when I was trying switch the disposable heads on my razor but my hands were shaking too bad. I realized I was about to attempt to shave with hands shaking so bad it rendered me incapable of simple tasks. It didn’t seem like a good idea. Mom was amused at me eating a sandwich while I was in my robe with conditioner in my hair. It wasn’t her body in danger of looking like Wolverine attempted to remove her body hair.

A mosquito just bit me in that weird dimple on your ankle where your bones meet. Son of a BITCH… I’m sitting out here until my battery runs out damnit. I might have to turn on some extra programs to help it along.

Okay, so this is where the crazy comes in.  (Because everything up to this point has been sane.)

It starts with PMS. I know. Let me give you guys a second to find your shocked faces. I was on the phone with Tina yesterday, aware that I was probably suffering from PMS but unaware the strength of which it was in effect. We were talking, and I said something INSANELY bitchy and crazy. It wasn’t pointed at Tina, which is a blessing, but probably insulted the shit out of her all the same. Since it is Tina, she pointed out to me that I was being hormonal and therefore not rational, and I agreed after a few seconds of thought. She got me talking about my novella which she just read, and we got to discussing the next story, and I was so excited that I forgot all about being nuts.

I hung up with her and immediately started pulling together things for my next story. I was like a Honey Boo Boo all hyped up on the Mountain Dew. This lasted for about three hours, until another wave hit. I suddenly realized what I had said to Tina. I felt like a total douche nougat. I texted her an apology, and started to shift through the rest of  my interactions through the day. I never have a problem apologizing to Tina for being an emotional nutbag, but it pisses me off to have to apologize to other people some times. I realized she was my first and only victim and moved on.

Then 45 minutes later, I started crying, about everything. I wanted to call Tina and apologize again. I almost did. I remembered the last big PMS episode with Tina, and how I made her more miserable with apologizing than I did with my original bad behavior.  I learned! I adapted! I did not text her again or call her to apologize.  Instead, I spent the night crying and talking to the Viking, who I know wanted to be using the cool weather to work on his car but stayed to talk to me because I was a wreck instead, because that is totally more sane. I’m keeping him for as long as I can.

I think I am going to put Tina and the Viking up for sainthood. I can make buttons or something.

(I blame any typos in this post of the effing mosquitoes. They all had a Selina snack. The assholes.)

 

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What is Up with That?

Snow bot serve and protect

Effing hippies, Snowbot will take care of this

My awesome and wise friend Kathleen told me something her also awesome and wise mother told her: You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat strangers.

I was a teenager or in my early twenties when she relayed that wisdom to me, and I was not old enough to get it. Now, I do. I think it can be expanded to encompass a lot more than behavior to a cashier; I think it can be applied to our entire society.

You can tell a lot by a society by how it treats it most vulnerable citizens.

This isn’t a new concept. As a matter of fact, I am pretty sure I probably stole those words verbatim from someone.  Hell, I’m pretty sure major religions were based on folks saying something very similar.

This is more than just about feminism, gay rights, child welfare, or racism; it’s about all of us.

Ready for another shocker?? People in power want to keep their power. They will do whatever it takes to keep that power. Power is a pretty cool thing apparently. Some use force and intimidation, while others use trickier more effective means to keep power. They tell us they have the right to the power they have taken, and if we were stronger (richer, better looking, better connected, harder working) then we could have power, too. They want us to believe they earned this power, and we are somehow evil for wanting them to use the power for the benefit of all. Somehow they have no responsibility to us.

*cough*BULLSHIT*cough*

People in power, and who have power over us, only have that power because we gave it to them.

No one can have power over you unless you let them have it.

People can beat you, rob you, rape you, and hurt you in innumerable ways. Tyrants can rule countries and commit genocide. Politicians can steal the rights our country believes are ours by nature. We can’t stop some of it as individuals. I wish I could say there was some magic shield that kept children from being beaten. I refuse to make a woman feel like there was more she could do to prevent the sexual violence committed against her. It breaks my heart, but these things will happen. We cannot stop them. We can change them though.

We can take the power back.

We feel small and helpless most of the time. We feel like we are bumping in a world of trouble and pain and all we can do is struggle to keep our heads about water. We aren’t really wrong, but we forget a simple basic truth.

There is more of us than them.

If, as a society, we decided that poor treatment of the disenfranchised was wrong, we could fix it. We’ve done it before. It wasn’t easy, but we did it. (Of course, we stopped watching and lost some of our power. The people who wanted our power got trickier and convinced us it was bad to be things like a feminist. That is a different blog though.)

If we decided hate was not okay, and those in power should use the power we gave them to our benefit, not just theirs, we could fix it. It won’t be easy, but we could do it.

It boils down to being what you want our world to be. Be who you want others to be. Be brave, kind, generous, and caring and slowly the world will become these things.

If we make it clear treating a woman who is raped like a slut who asked for it, and rape and sexual violence is unacceptable, rape won’t stop, but women who are raped will have a lot more powerful. Rape reports would go up. Women will feel less victimized by a society that says things like “legitimate rape” or “her skirt was so short she was asking for it.”

If we decide as a society that people who abuse those weaker than them are angry immature children and those who protect the people around them are strong, bad things won’t stop happening. People will still beat up people who are weaker than them to feel stronger and more powerful, but it will reduce the incidence.

If, as a people, we redefine power as people who help and protect instead of those who take and hurt, our world will change.

I know it sounds simplistic. I know it sounds ‘Selina has her damn rose colored glasses on’ and I am not being realistic. It doesn’t sound realistic and can never be done. It HAS been done before, many times. We will have to keep doing it, too. Freedom and happiness are not something you win once and keep without care and vigilance. It is a process. Our nation’s founders knew this. They were pretty smart guys.

Oh, a parting thought on ‘realism,’ maybe making a people think change is impossible is a good way to keep them from trying. Don’t you think?

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Detox

I have officially put myself on a politics detox. I haven’t read anything more than headlines. I don’t know what Clint Eastwood said to the chair. I read a quick blurb about Chuck Norris’s YouTube video, but only because it is freaking Chuck Norris. I refuse to watch it. I’m not discussing politics with anyone. I’ve never asked anyone who they are voting for, but for the first time, I am actively discouraging people from telling me and refusing to engage in conversation. I’m too rabid to have a conversation. I’ve become what I frown upon, foamy mouthed and convinced I’m right and anyone else is wrong. It is time to step back. I know who I am voting for, the rest of you guys can duke it out.

I have more time and energy to devote to important thing. For example, this:

interspecies cuddle

I am not a big fan of cats or squirrels, but when they cuddle, their cute combines into awesomeness.

I’m also regaining my interest in science. NASA is win, and so is whomever runs this FaceBook Page. I’m back to being all Science! with the required “!”.

Most importantly, though, is I am learning to be happy without fear. I think my nature is to be a positive, optimistic person, but society has kind of tainted it. I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon. Whenever I am positive or upbeat about something, someone comes in and pisses in my Cheerios.  Sometimes it is a random cereal pisser, but other times it is someone I care about. When I call them on their unsanitary breakfast food behaviors, they point out it is because they care about me and don’t want to see me get hurt. I realized last week people equate optimism with stupidity, and people seem to think emotional pain is the worst thing that could ever happen.

Here is the deal; in order to do anything big and scary in life you have to have faith things will work out well. If you don’t have that fundamental faith then you are crippling your abilities to succeed. I think this works for everything except childbearing. I’m pretty sure you are supposed to be sure you are screwing up your kids at all times. Everything else you have to do with your whole heart, pushing through the fear and blindly believing in the best. This is how I live and how I love.

I will probably get hurt or disappointed. Statistics don’t look good for me. So the fuck what?

I have two big risks in my life right now, writing and the Viking. I refuse to turn down this opportunity because of fear of failure. I fear regret a lot more than failure. Hell, I’ve failed a lot in my life, and it sucks, but so the fuck what? Even if I never publish or support myself writing and have to find something else, I won’t wonder.  I believe deep in me, though, I have a chance. And what happens if things don’t work with the Viking? I hurt real bad. So the fuck what. I’ve been through emotional pain and heart break before, and I lived. Hell, I’m pretty sure my last heartbreak made me better. Should I trade this happiness that I don’t have words for with a magnificent man because I am afraid? That seems a whole lot stupider than allowing myself to love wholeheartedly.

So, no, I’m not stupid for being positive. I’m not optimistic because there is information I failed to weigh in. I know the risks. I’m not a dumb woman. I’m just a woman who learned to look at fear and say “so the fuck what.”

Now, about those folks who like to ruin breakfast food…

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DEFCON 3

I went EIGHT HOURS without the interwebz today.

EIGHT HOURS

Simpson capslock

Flawless logic

Okay, honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

I think I went like 24 hours once. That was rough.  There was also that time we got a blizzard, we were without electricity for 7 days. I would go into the work at the library and silently breath in the electricity, recharging my soul.

I don’t have a smartphone. If I did I would never internet detox. I don’t think always being connected to the internet would be good for me. I’m a little too – intense – for that.

I love to hear people, especially women, talk about going back in history to “simpler times” without technology. Maybe its because I have some education in History under my belt, but people who say that have no fracking clue what they are talking about. Yes, technology leads to some very messed up things and douchebag behaviors, but times weren’t better before it. I would rather internet trolls and insta-access to the fucktardary of the world than dying because of strep throat, bad teeth, and child birth. But, really, I wouldn’t mind not being able to own property or vote just not to have to deal with texting.

Yes, dating and marriage was simpler. Your parents picked your husband, or at least had a heavy hand in the courtship, and you married him, and any property that was yours before the marriage became his. If you were lucky he was decent guy. If he wasn’t, too frelling bad. He could beat you or cheat on you with little repercussion, but if you cheated on him, or even acted improperly, he could divorce you, take your kids and any premarital property, and leave you broke and homeless. Yes, times were simpler, but they fucking sucked.

I don’t even know where the hell all that came from. Sometimes I worry for my gentle readers, because I will go off on a thought stream, and you guys don’t have a boat. I spend a significant amount of mental energy interpreting the world for my brain and my brain for the world. I spend so much time in my own head thinking strange thoughts. They aren’t useful thoughts; they are just stuff like weird ‘what-if’ situations. If I could science and I spent as much time thinking of curing cancer as I do thinking about being on the Ellen DeGeneres show, we wouldn’t have cancer. I do think a lot about science which means Tina and the Viking get a lot of strange texts from me.

Okay, I know that it takes a lot of energy to heat up water one degree compared to a lot of common things.. I also know the cooling process is the spreading of energy (heat) to the world around. (I still say when my big white girl ass gets super cold in winter it actually sucks the heat from the surrounding area like a jiggly heat black hole.) I have yet to figure out if it take the release of more energy to cool water one degree than other things, or is that even a thing? Am I thinking crazy talk?

This is the shit that happens when I am separated from news, politics, and Facebook for 8 hours.

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I Know How Alice Feels

I am the strangest combination of deliriously happy with my life and angry as hell at society. I’ve done what any rational person would do while dealing with emotional confusion… I get on the internet and drown my emotions in  pictures of kittens.

I found some strange and wonderful things. Most things were just strange.

Party hard

You Aren’t Hardcore Unless You Rock Hardcore

I’m going to admit this: I read the phrase “mathcore”  for about the fourth time in my life and finally had to look it up. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe something one of my music friends would write if they bred with one of my more mathy friends. Yeah not at all.

Mathcore should be actually “soundtrack for a budding serial killer.” I’m not saying it would make someone a serial killer, there seem to be a lot of variables there, but I do believe it could possible this music could give the kid the last nudge he needed to start mutilating the neighbors cats. Okay, all of them weren’t so bad. I kinda liked the band Dillinger Escape Plan, which means they have to be uncool already. I miss my youth when we listened to clean, sweet music like Rob Zombie and Tool.

 

This search lead naturally to me looking up “nintendocore“. Yep, a blending of hardcore/metal with Nintendo inspired synth music. I can’t believe such a thing actually exists. What is even more unbelievable, I kind of like it. It is oddly fascinating. I didn’t play video games as a young’un so I can’t say it is the sweet nostalgia of a misspent youth. I think it speaks to my inner nerd. Unlike mathcore, I think I don’t have enough of an inner psychopath for that.

I’m not even in the weird part of Youtube yet. Maybe I should stop while I am ahead.

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