Daylight Burns Us, Precious, Burns Us

So, as made obvious before, I am a hardcore night owl. I could go to bed at ten am and wake up at 5pm and be perfectly happy. The universe gets pretty pissy about it, though. Today I’m trying to correct it a little bit. I slept from about 7:30 am to 10 am. Having thoughts hurts. My brain is generally a collection of “Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Seriously, my brain action right now is “I’m hungry. Fuck I’m tired. I should eat something. Fuck, I’m tired. I need to try and string words together in a coherent manner. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Jesus Christ, is it 10pm yet so I can go to sleep? Twatwaffle.”

Me, right now, falling asleep at the damn keyboard.

Me, right now, falling asleep at the damn keyboard. EXCEPT I’M NOT SMILING

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Remember

Tuesday I was sick and asleep all day.

Thursday I was crazy busy and cranky as hell.

It happens.

I haven’t written anything since last week, so I’m going to miss my deadline for tomorrow. (I e-mail Tina all the pages I write in a week, aiming for at least ten.) I might get super productive tonight, but I doubt it. I’m cranky and hurting. I’m still struggling with some self loathing problems, and I still feel pretty worthless.

That said…

I no longer feel like I want to disappear. I no longer lay there at night and think about how if I did disappear, no one would notice for awhile, except my parents, but only because I wouldn’t be there to do something for them.

I’m pushing through this depression. Some days I’m me. I’m happy, positive, and hopeful. Some days are bad days. I feel so much pressure all of the time. I feel alone. I feel worthless. I feel like a big whiny asshole who just needs to cowboy up. Some days I want to disappear for a little bit.

That’s how this goes though. You push through the bad days and celebrate the good days. I have to remind myself that I really am under a lot of pressure right now, and I’m not just being weak. I have to remind myself that it is okay to have bad days. I have to tell myself it is not okay to disappear. I would be missed, and more than just because people need things from me. I have to try to remember that I am trying to do something worthwhile. I have to remember that I am worthwhile.

Some times I need to look for a baby corgi smile

Required monthly corgi to brighten your day

I know, I know I will make it through this and things will get better. I just have to remember it is okay to have bad days, but it is not okay to disappear.

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Things Go a Bit Awry

I have been working on this blog in my head about abusive relationships. It was going to be deep and profound.

But

This afternoon I woke up, checked the mail and found SOMETHING FUCKING AWESOME My friends Melissa Donley (whose blog I freaking love) and Joe Donley, who is also cutting his teeth with writing, had sent me a signed copy of Neverwhere. I now own a copy of Neverwhere signed by Neil Gaiman which he wrote my name and “mind the gap.”

My Brain Fucking Exploded.

This is the book. My favorite book.

I have not regained cognitive abilities yet.

I hope to soon so I can get some writing done.

 

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For Serious, Yo

So, I freaked all the way out Tuesday, and now I’m coming back together. It happens.

So it’s the Fourth of July and I should write something profound and historical sounding. Instead, I’m going to show you this:

FEAR MY CUTE! FEAR IT!

FEAR MY CUTE! FEAR IT!

Then I’m going to tell you random stories:

I sneezed earlier and hurt myself. That, my friends, is talent. Sad thing is, it isn’t the first time. This time I was sitting in the perfect position that the sneeze disturbed my already janky muscles. My breastbone pops sometimes and it is freaking weird. Another time was when I was working at Wal-Mart and bent over behind the counter and sneezed while throwing something away. I hit my head. It was awesome. My customer heard the impact. Even more awesome.

I took medicine. I might have taken too much Zyrtec. Things are a bit fuzzy.

Seriously if you accidentally overlap your Zyrtecs you trip balls. TRIP BALLS. Now, I’m drinking coffee. I think I should feel sorry for anyone who talks to me tonight.

I want a personal assistant almost as much as I want a corgi and an otter. I don’t really know what I would make my personal assistant do except sometimes it would be really useful to have someone who is obligated to listen to me talk about what I’m writing, not in a explaining my work sorta way, but more in an airheaded working out out what I need to write next sort of way. I think best when I talk things out. Maybe if I get an otter or a corgi, I can talk to them. I can’t make a corgi or an otter go and get me tacos though. Can you ask personal assistants get you tacos? Is that a valid thing to ask? Or is that like a “The Devil Wears Prada” thing to ask? I don’t know, I probably shouldn’t ever have a personal assistant then because I would be too afraid to ask them to do stuff for me. Also, I don’t ever  use dry cleaning and I’m pretty sure personal assistants do something with dry cleaners. That’s what they always do in the movies. And schedule stuff. ANd walk behind someone important looking and look harried. I’m not sure I would be good at looking important. I’m mostly good at looking harried.

Yeah, I think I overlapped my Zyrtecs.

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Why We Come in Pairs

Well, not necessarily pairs, but in groups…

Last week, I kind of stopped writing… everything. Last week was one of those weeks that it took everything I had to keep breathing.

This has been a stressful year. It just has been.

I know everything will be okay. I know I can handle it. Sometimes it seems too much.

Life is like that, though, sometimes. It builds and builds until  you are sure you are going to break. Sometimes it takes everything you have just to hold your molecules together. You feel like if you let go for just one second you will fly apart.

This is why people come in groups. This is why we have families, whether they are families we are born into or ones we make. Sometimes, you can only hold things together for so long. Sometimes you can only be strong for so long.

Today, I’m flying apart. It has been awhile coming, and it is time, and it is okay. Life is full of patterns and cycles. I know this one. This is the point where I break and cry. I dissolve for just a little bit. Then I pull back together.

And it’s okay, and everyone does it. It is why we come in groups, so when we fly apart into our tiniest bits there is someone there. Sometimes it is your parents or friends or mate, and sometimes it is a random person on the internet who knows what you’ve been through. Sometimes it is your dog. This is why we love and are built to connect. This is why, if we are brave and lucky, we show our most vulnerable selves to another living being and receive love for who we are at that core.

Make no mistake: you are worthy of love for who you are at your most vulnerable core. The bitch of the thing is being willing to show that core and to give and receive love.

So we dissolve for a bit then we pull our atoms back together. It is hard not to feel weak or broken, but we aren’t, and we aren’t alone.

I don’t know. I know I’m not making a whole lot of sense. It’s okay, because you guys know what I’m talking about. That is the beautiful thing.

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It Matters

First watch this:

Every single woman I know, myself included, has had something like this happen to them. We are told it is no big deal. We are just being prudes. If we wear a low cut shirt, it is our fault. We get made to feel that it doesn’t matter, but anytime anyone touches you without permission, especially after you tell them to stop, it is a big deal. Anytime someone gives you attention you don’t want, especially after you tell them to stop, it is a big deal. It isn’t our fault.

I’ve had to pull men’s hands out of my shirt innumerable times. I don’t care if I was topless. If I don’t want a man touching my breasts, then they should not. Period. End of story.

Several times I’ve had to remove men’s hands out from under my skirt. I don’t care if I am at a bar, if I don’t want your hand under my skirt, then it doesn’t belong there. Most of the time it took me moving the hand more than once for them to get it..

I have a big jiggly ass. It is not okay to pat it unless I know you and you have permission to touch my body.

I’ve been followed down the street and around the mall by men/boys. One group followed me and my friends around cat calling me and throwing stuff at me. One of my dumbass friends gave the guy my phone number and I got to deal with him calling me and calling me names because I wasn’t  wanting to talk to him.

Being followed by a pack of males, being cat called by a group of males, makes you feel like prey.

It fucks with you.

I’ve always been comfortable around men as friends. I’ve always had a group of male friends, but for most of my adult life, male sexual attention made me extremely uncomfortable.I could feel what they wanted from me. I felt pressured and uncomfortable. I spent a lot of time bolting from it.

I spent a lot of my youth anxious about male sexual attention. I wasn’t abused. I wasn’t raped. I just was very sensitive and had these everyday acts of male sexual aggression forced on me. I never felt like I had control. I felt like I was just too prudish and fucked up. It’s just sex. Relax and give them what they want. It’s no big deal.

I never did give in (not because I was a super strong woman or anything, but because of another set of messed up issued). I know a lot of women who did. They felt the intense pressure and did things they weren’t comfortable with. Let’s get something straight right now. There is no such thing as just groping/sex/blowjob/handjob if either participants feel uncomfortable. If either party feels pressured or like the attention is unwanted then IT IS A BIG DEAL.

Let’s repeat that. If you participate in any sex act you are uncomfortable with it is a big deal. It leaks into your psyche and affects your sexual understanding.

Unfortunately, it starts young. Young teenage girls get sexual attention before they have the maturity to deal with it. As a society, we treat it like it’s no big deal. We need to tell our daughters that it IS A BIG DEAL. You can tell the person you don’t want them touching you. You should talk about attention that makes you uncomfortable. If someone is doing something that makes you uncomfortable, they are in the wrong, not you.

We need to have these conversations with our boys, too.

Luckily for me, I have a mate who makes me feel completely and utterly comfortable. When I am with him, I feel loved and empowered. I feel like a rocking sex kitten from outerspace. I never thought I would have that. It’s out there for everyone though.

If you don’t feel comfortable it is okay to say no. Wait until you are comfortable. Wait until it is completely your choice.

For the rest of it, make noise. Tell people when they make you uncomfortable. Get pissed when you get groped. Tell your friends when you get unwanted street harassment. It empowers us to hear the truth from each other. Tell yourself that it matters and it is a big deal.

 

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Soooo, anyway…

Seriously, I got nothing.

Life is the same crazy ball of stress, worry, and awesome it has been for a month now. Things are looking better. My writing is kicking ass. My family is still stressing me out. I’ve decided to treat my stress and anxiety with beer. Mmm beer.

I flipped and and cried on the phone with Tina last night because I’m stressed and hormonal then I turned around and wrote more in one night than I did in four last week. I’ve begun part two of three on it. I still have a long way to go but it feels good.

I caught shit yesterday for being so “Pollyanna.” Here is the deal: I have to be. I have to try and look at the good things. I can’t tune out and shut down. I don’t have that option. I wish I did sometimes, but I don’t. Except for when I am at my very darkest moments, I love my life, or at least the potential of life itself. Life is a fight. Every freaking second of it sometimes is a battle. You have to make your decisions what you are battling for.

I decided to battle to take advantage of my chance to live my dream. I floated a lot in my life. I shut down a lot. I don’t regret it. I did a lot of growing up and learning how to cope.

I don’t know where I was going with that. I worked until 7 am this morning, and I’m still a bit discombobulated.

Required monthly corgi

Why is this sweet baby NOT MINE?

I miss my Viking. Life is busy for both of us.

So something only I would find funny:

Today I found a large box of condoms discarded amongst the tampon boxes. Someone’s night obviously was not going how they planned.

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Taut

It’s 7:32 on Sunday morning. I know this means this can’t be my Saturday blog, but I haven’t slept yet, so it still could be my Saturday blog.

I had forgotten that I even needed to blog until 11:48 pm last night. By then I decided to just to work on my book.

I can’t sleep. My sinuses are bothering me and my body and brain feel taut like a wire pulled tight. I don’t think I’m snapping tight, just tight enough that I feel like if something hit me at the right angle I would vibrate and make a tone. It’s not exactly pleasant. I feel like if I stretched a certain way my body would relax enough to rest.

Then there would still be my brain. I have had so much on my mind lately I’ve been bumbling about. I feel dotty. I have a million different things in a million different directions going on in my head. I feel a little bit like I’m going mad. I also suspect I’m being a bit melodramatic. I feel like I’ve been going, going, going, and now I’m just taut.

I feel like I worry a lot or I’m scared a lot. The truth is most of the worry and fear is passing but the ghosts are still there. Its like the void from those worries and fears haven’t filled back up yet with different emotions so I put random things in there and worry and stress about them. It’s stupid but normal. I’m pretty sure if I don’t keep my mind tightly regulated, I have mini-panic attacks. I don’t like this so much.

I’ve had issues settling down to write, but when I do, the writing goes well.

Now, I don’t believe I’m one of those crazy ass brilliant writers that writes world changing stuff but believes spiders are secretly plotting to take over the world. My writing is not nearly good enough for me to be crazy or eccentric or however you want to put it. The best I could get away with is moody. I need to either write better stuff or be not crazy. Those are my choices.

I don’t know. I don’t know if any of this makes any sense, or if I should just got to bed.

Damnit, now I’m hungry.

So, I ate something and realized I’ve had way too much caffeine. Oi. Maybe someday instead of making me seem like a raving looney, my caffeine od’s will open up all time and space to me and reveal the secrets of the universe. Right now, they just make me seem nuts.

 

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The Photoshop Controversy

I start to make a Facebook post about this but it was massive and just decided to write a blog.

This is the story that I was going to link.

I know a lot of you didn’t TL;DR that so, basically a department store, Debenhams, in the UK has decided to stop doing a lot of Photoshop manipulations on their adverts. They won’t change the body shape (slim, lengthen, or whatever) or whiten teeth of their models anymore. They will use it to fix stray hair, photo problems, and such.

I think this is wonderful. Last time I posted something about Photoshopping in advertising Tina called and yelled at me. I’m only exaggerating a little. She was yelling, but not at me per say, and I understand why.

I love me some XKCD

Random interrupting cartoon interrupts.

Okay, so there is this HUGE anti-Photoshop movement in separate parts of society. The first are the snobby photographers who act like Photoshop is cheating. While I believe it does allow for a photographer with less technical camera skills have better quality photos, it doesn’t mean these photographers have less skills, their skill happen to be with Photoshop. Lack of talent and lack of artistic sensibility will show no matter how much digital manipulation that is thrown at a photo. To me, a photographer denying Photoshop is like me refusing a computer and only using a typewriter or pen and paper. This is new technology of my art. I’m not going to go scratching out words on papyrus because spell check is cheating. Frel that. Frell that with a big fracking stick.

The second group are people sick of seeing digitally manipulated images of models used to sell a product.  First, Tina pointed out to me, don’t blame the photographer/graphic designer. Those pictures are the product the company wants to use, so they make them. That is why this one store making this stand is so wonderful. Tina explained to me photographers have two different sets of photos: their art, and the ones they produce for clients.

Photographer/graphic designers have a powerful need to eat like space cowboys and the rest of us. They take pictures that people want to buy. These are the photos with the perfect skin, hair, teeth. I’m lucky because my best friend is a photographer. I realized one day when she was showing me photos of myself, I was looking at these pictures with the filters of my own self loathing, not through her artist’s eyes. I learned to stop seeing pictures of me as me. I look at them as someone else. She shows me what is beautiful about this someone else, and, man, most of the time, she was dead on. There is something beautiful about that woman even with her double chin, arm fat, strange shaped huge ears. Slowly, I begin to realize that beautiful woman is me. It changes my life a little each time we do it. It happens because I turn over all of my trust to her, and I allow her to show me what she sees. I wish every person on Earth could do this, but so few of us are willing to be that vulnerable and trusting. So few of us are willing to try to turn off our self-loathing filters. It is a gift and a blessing.

Anyway, since most people can’t have this extremely personal and world altering thing, they want pictures with all of their “flaws” Photoshopped out. It is what they want. It is how a photographer affords to stay in business.

Where I start having issues is when companies demand things that are unrealistic. Images affect us. We, unfortunately, live in a world that drives us to be this fracked up standard of perfect that is completely unattainable, and probably flipping awful if we got it, without adding truly fake stuff on to it. No 16 year-old girl, who works out 4 hours a day and eats nothing but lettuce, should have her body slimmed on Photoshop. Seriously? If a professional model, who are already completely unattainable by most mere mortals, can’t cut it for an advertising exec, something is seriously flipping wrong.

So, lesson here: be nice to your photographer/graphic designer. They are trying to feed themselves.  Someday, find a photographer you trust, trust them, and let them show you your beauty. Finally, get pissy at the companies that demand the harmful digital manipulation.

Pretty

This is almost a year old, but when I look at this, I remember how beautiful I am. Tina gave that to me.

 

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Don’t Send Strange Women Pictures of Your Dangly Bits!

So, today I watched one of the most fascinating internet interactions I’ve ever seen.

For those of you who are all TL:DR (too long; didn’t read), basically a man sends a woman who he doesn’t know, but found on a dating app, a picture of his dangly bits. She tells him she didn’t think it was cool, and he starts to be verbally abusive. She gets pissed, finds him on Facebook, and threatens to send a picture of the entire conversation to his mother.

Women in the conversation rejoice. Some of the men, on the other hand, can’t figure out what the big deal is.

First of all, this isn’t a “men are stupid” conversation. Men aren’t stupid. Things are tricky, and this particular incident is complex, and I think it is important to discuss.

Most grown ass men know better than to send a strange woman an unsolicited picture of their man bits. It is the exact same thing as walking up to a woman and dropping flashing your junk. It’s not appropriate or effective. It won’t get you sex, but it might get you arrested. It’s illegal for a reason. It’s sexual assault. This part is not complex.

Things are different if you are involved with a woman in some way. Rule of thumb: follow her lead. If she sends you racy pics or requests them then it is okay. If she indicates it is not okay and you over stepped a boundary on accident, apologize and move on.

This guy doesn’t do that, though. The woman clearly indicates his advances are unwelcome, and he acts aggressively and become abusive. At some point in time in everyone’s dating life, they will mess up and overstep a boundary. Hell, we will do it in every single relationship in our lives. Handling it well is what matters. How this guy handles it is more than bad, it is predatory, abusive, and soo not okay. Most grown ass men get this, or maybe I’m spoiled by knowing a lot of great grown ass men.

This is true for all dating interactions. If either gender makes an advance and it is rejected, move on with grace. I’ve been shot down. It sucks. I didn’t call the guys names or keep pushing. Woman and sex are not prey to be hunted. Most grown ass men know this. Sometimes the rejections have nothing to do with the person doing the advancing.

Now, on the other hand, playing hard to get is stupid. We need to stop it. We need to stop it RIGHT NOW. It encourages this hunting behavior. Also, it’s just stupid. If you have to play a game to get someone’s attention then there is something flawed there.

Most importantly… Talk about this stuff. If we are ever going to make things better we need to talk to each other.

 

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