Mother Katherine provided me with probably one of the most useful of tools yesterday in our Tuesday @ 10:00 a.m. utterances.
I had lost this feller so long ago, not knowing which way was north, nor which was south. More familiar with the neutralities of easts and wests, I struggled with what went where.
It was lost in a lonely living room, this moral compass o' mine, behind open doors that should have been closed, with my hands metaphorically tied behind my back and my eyes made to be wide shut. "Star 80" comes to mind, sweaty bodies fucking, willing oiled flesh against the flesh of the martryed, angry dark mustaches mingled with blonde innocence & ignorance being bliss as all get out. PTSD comes in the form of disgruntled 30 something males who have a willingness to please but are even more cunning in their acts of deception. & shotguns.
My moral compass was given back to me yesterday. I've forgotten how to use it, how to read it. There are many times I want to put it away & pretend I never happened upon it, even since yesterday afternoon.
I have to wonder at what God has given me....I mean, why was it ever taken away in the first place? Why was I allowed to lose such an important relic if it was only going to be returned to me at a point in my life when I thought I could get along just fine without one?
I was fine with seeing north for it's south-like tendencies, & okay with seeing a little north down in the delta too. My true north lay in the enigmatic comforts of the horizons of east and west.
Was I given this to be told I am wrong in my thinking, in my conclusive efforts to relate with this world? Or was it a reward for coming to a stance of neutrality in a universe that demands such a forced dichotomy of black & white? I may never fully come to understand this. I hope to, but if I don't, there is a belief deep down inside me that even if I don't, everything will still be okay.
Not everyone has that though. That ability to stand on a middle grounds, & still be even a shred of who you think you might be in this realm.
My oldest son and I were working on some math problems last night. Math is a sore subject for my son, particularly arithmetic that involves multiple steps & processes. His world has to be broken down into smaller parts, showing connection step by step to what the bigger picture is.
My world has to be presented to me in a very similar way in order to get a grasp.
I sensed his anxiety level, his stress factor soaring higher & higher with each problem we approached in his math book.
By problem #11 he was in tears.
My son is not a crier.
I was heartbroken to see so much pent up angst pour out over in waves of tears and sobs I haven't heard from him since he was 6.
It's his second week of being in Jr. High. He has shown no sign of feeling inadequate when compared to his other peers until now. This moment.
He tells me he needs to stay on track. He tells me he needs to try harder. He tells me he used to know his multiplication facts but now he can't remember any of them. He tells me he studies so so hard (his exact words) but no matter what he still gets only 50% on his tests, adding that 50% means an 'F'.
In his own 13 year old way, he was telling me he felt like a failure.
Someone who, no matter how tired he is, will strive to get his homework done, even if it means staying up until 11 o'clock at night (which I refuse to let him do anymore) to complete it so that he can say he did it.
Someone who, secretly pinches the insides of his palms to make sure he is staying focused enough to understand the many rules and regulations of this new and foreign land that is Jr. High.
Someone who later comes crying to those who care to listen, because it hurts so bad that he fails to measure up to what other's standards are of success.
My moral compass is spinning out of fucking control here, and all I want to do is cry right alongside Jr.
But I gotta be brave for my boy. I've gotta be strong so that he can sometimes feel safe about being weak in a world where weakness is deemed unacceptable.
I let him cry. I let him speak. I don't try to console him or tell him to dry his eyes. This is 13 years of insecurity spilling out over my 33 year old lap.
When he was done, I looked him in those beautiful chocolate brown eyes that resemble his father's in every way, shape and form, and tell him.
I tell him that because of his Autism that there will be things he is going to struggle with. Math is one of them. Not everyone with Autism will struggle with math, but for whatever reason, he does. I tell him that because of Autism, there will be so many other things he will continue to struggle with, even til the day he dies, because that is just how life is.
I also tell him that because of his Autism, he will never have to struggle to beat the pants off of his opponents in chess. And that because of his Autism he will own eternally on playing video games that most people only dream of owning on. And that because of his Autism he is by far possibly the cleanest teenager in all of the Indianapolis area.
& that because of his Autism, he has shown me one of the most beautiful facets of life that I would've never had the chance to embrace if he never had it.
He got me through this world without a moral compass.
Fuck this world & it's standards & measures for success.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Black No 1!
I've got that song stuck in my head! The season calls for it though.
Oh boy oh boy. Was s'posed to help out at the Scholastic Book Fair today but second oldest spawn is home sick today with a cold. I was kinda lookin forward to going to the book fair too. The sexy librarian always hooks me up with a free book, even though I owe her from last year.
Well the weekend was spent well, on Friday Snookms, spawn & I ventured out to the Dennys by the airport for dinner. It's usually a darling of a place to go, but that night felt like a fail. There was a grumpy assed old couple we were seated next to which made us more self conciously aware of how noisy our spawn can get, so we weren't half as silly as we usually like to be in public places. I felt bad for our waitress because she was asked by the mean old lady if they had run out of coffee in the most rudest of manners. I could see the offense taken in the waitress' eyes so I kept baby-ing her all night long with 'pleases' n 'thank yous'. Plus the chicken fried steak n mashed potatoes I ordered was just way too much food for me! But the nacho appetizers were pretty grand.
Saturday I woke up & realized we needed milk & cereal so I headed up to SuperTarget & went ahead & got groceries for the week. Spent some time in the college/dorm supply-like area & fell in love with some posters. They had long rectangular strips of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon posters for cheap so I bought that & some romantical hogwash with a sexy couple posing in front of sexy places with the William Shakespeare quotation, "Journeys end in lovers meeting". Snookms wasn't crazy about it, but I mostly like it for the black & white scheme of things. Plus the quote! Also talked myself into purchasing a Jimi Hendrix regular-large poster. It's pretty! It's purple! It says 'craziness is like heaven', because, y'know, it IS?!?!
When I got home Snookms was ready to pay a visit to his mum out in the northo-nether region, but I was kinda tuckered out, so youngest she-spawn & I elected to stay home. But not really! Wound up over at the Renegade Wizard's pad. My mom has been sick, so we wanted to check up on her & make sure she wasn't on her death bed. & she wasn't! Spent a good 3 hours upstairs in her room laying in bed with her *yes! I still do that! Shamelessly mind you!* & smelling her lovely mother flesh. I'm so glad she's feeling better. We had fun talking about the potential for telekinesis, what Hitler's henchman could have possibly discovered (or tried to discover!) in their horrible experiments on humanity & the different classifications of psychic abilities. Renegade Wizard & she-spawn were chopping it up downstairs listening to Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' & making pot roast, which was a hit and a half, by the by! & then we sat around the 52 inch & halfheartedly elected to watch Slumdog Millionaire. By the end of the movie we were silent and teary eyed and mad at ourselves for not seeing it sooner. I now know why that movie took home the cake. Excellent film. By the time it was all over it was Powerball time & the only one that came out a winner was the fucking 9 (soon to be ten!) year old she-spawn. She guessed 3 of the 6 numbers right out of the 5 of us *I called Snookms & he gave me fucking prime numbers; for a LOTTERY!* plus had the multiplier of 5, so she won 35 dollars. Strange how such events lead to such things. & such!
Didn't get home til close to 1 in the am, Snookms was passed out on the couch & the spawn were already at their vices. Tha Jr. was enveloped in Windwaker, as usual, & David (Fezziwig) was very very close to defeating Majora on Majora's mask, had 19 of the 20 masks you have to trade to get to where you need to go. I have to say that I love this game. It is pretty much the most amazing of the Zelda series. The sidequests & lore are a must, you HAVE to get all the masks if you want to beat the game and even though the masks are a bitch to obtain in most cases, they are well worth the amusement. I spent/wasted 3 months of my petty life defeating the first 2 temples on that game, but when the game froze up & erased all my shit from the girly pirate fortress AFTER I had obtained all those fucking eggs....I just, well, I just LOST it. I went numb & frigid for at least a week & vowed I would never play that game again. When the spawn picked it back over the summer, they used my prior knowledge & experience from the game & now they are far more 'experted' than I in the way of this game. But seriously. This game is beautiful & needs to be made more beautiful with better graphics. Like maybe cell-shade animation, perhaps Windwaker style? Keep everything else though Dear God! The music, the lovely evil moon descending upon you, the many forms you become, all the quirky lovely people you have to talk to. You get a Giant's Mask for Christ's sake, & you can only use it to defeat a boss, where you really become a giant! The final reward for all your efforts? The Fierce Deity Mask, which makes you ascend to Godhood, Link style. Pretty amazing if you ask me.
Sunday was a lazy day for me. Woke up feeling PMS to the max, so I just pattered around & enjoyed the Fall-like Foreshadowings. You know there's lovely orange-leafed trouble right around the corner whenever Mysty starts busting out THIS pretty kitty:
I was in the mood for hunting for new graphic novels, but sick of old B&N so I slipped away for a few & went to Half Price. Saw an old pal & her kiddo & whaddoya know? Her feller is working there too! Ha! I did find 2 jewels I am now coveting hardcore in the graphic novel section, for Lucifer the Morning Star has his own fucking series out that I did not know of. I pine for this; even in my sleep. How I fell in deep love with him in the Sandman Series. But alas, the two series that were available were more dollars than I had planned to spend, so I poo-pooed all over the place and pouted like a little brat in the Dragonlance section. I decided to comfort myself by going to the Dollar Tree & was consoled by Bjork cds for a dollar & the book ' The Kings of New York ' (for a fucking dollar, if you can believe it!). I was so happy for my findings that I celebrated by buying Tha Jr. a new sword, shield, & axe to add to his collection of cosplay like treasures.
After that, I paid a visit to Michaels, where I could live if you let me. I had my heart set on buying another tree pendant, (this one is silver with greenish-blue jewels encrusted into the branches, vs. my gold one with red jewels) & this lovely key pendant too, but they were far more expensive than I had anticipated so I just stuck with the owl pendant. He's purdy too. Large silver body, luminious black eyes.
I look forward to sporting that baby. & my new Heavy Boots. I wore them once when I met up with Mysty last week, but haven't sported them since, cause while they are awesome boots, they are painful boots too. But I luff them!
Well, Fall is nearly upon us, and I look forward to it's coming. I need to start really contemplating what pumpkins I am going to carve for Mysty's weddding reception. I really love the white ones, but they are so hard on my carpel tunnel infected hands & wrists. But the outcome is so much more defined & beautiful.
The other downside to these kinds of pumpkins is that the rind is so thick, they don't illuminate very well when a candle is placed inside them. & the rinds start to really stink after a while!
But then, here is another I did on a regular ol' orange feller, 2 or so years ago, & the outcome was so flimsy!
(I totally cut myself on that bastard too!)
So yeah. I'm gonna be busy. Meg-busy! But FUN-busy too.
Must go. Last night's taco salad calls to me.
Oh boy oh boy. Was s'posed to help out at the Scholastic Book Fair today but second oldest spawn is home sick today with a cold. I was kinda lookin forward to going to the book fair too. The sexy librarian always hooks me up with a free book, even though I owe her from last year.
Well the weekend was spent well, on Friday Snookms, spawn & I ventured out to the Dennys by the airport for dinner. It's usually a darling of a place to go, but that night felt like a fail. There was a grumpy assed old couple we were seated next to which made us more self conciously aware of how noisy our spawn can get, so we weren't half as silly as we usually like to be in public places. I felt bad for our waitress because she was asked by the mean old lady if they had run out of coffee in the most rudest of manners. I could see the offense taken in the waitress' eyes so I kept baby-ing her all night long with 'pleases' n 'thank yous'. Plus the chicken fried steak n mashed potatoes I ordered was just way too much food for me! But the nacho appetizers were pretty grand.
Saturday I woke up & realized we needed milk & cereal so I headed up to SuperTarget & went ahead & got groceries for the week. Spent some time in the college/dorm supply-like area & fell in love with some posters. They had long rectangular strips of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon posters for cheap so I bought that & some romantical hogwash with a sexy couple posing in front of sexy places with the William Shakespeare quotation, "Journeys end in lovers meeting". Snookms wasn't crazy about it, but I mostly like it for the black & white scheme of things. Plus the quote! Also talked myself into purchasing a Jimi Hendrix regular-large poster. It's pretty! It's purple! It says 'craziness is like heaven', because, y'know, it IS?!?!
When I got home Snookms was ready to pay a visit to his mum out in the northo-nether region, but I was kinda tuckered out, so youngest she-spawn & I elected to stay home. But not really! Wound up over at the Renegade Wizard's pad. My mom has been sick, so we wanted to check up on her & make sure she wasn't on her death bed. & she wasn't! Spent a good 3 hours upstairs in her room laying in bed with her *yes! I still do that! Shamelessly mind you!* & smelling her lovely mother flesh. I'm so glad she's feeling better. We had fun talking about the potential for telekinesis, what Hitler's henchman could have possibly discovered (or tried to discover!) in their horrible experiments on humanity & the different classifications of psychic abilities. Renegade Wizard & she-spawn were chopping it up downstairs listening to Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' & making pot roast, which was a hit and a half, by the by! & then we sat around the 52 inch & halfheartedly elected to watch Slumdog Millionaire. By the end of the movie we were silent and teary eyed and mad at ourselves for not seeing it sooner. I now know why that movie took home the cake. Excellent film. By the time it was all over it was Powerball time & the only one that came out a winner was the fucking 9 (soon to be ten!) year old she-spawn. She guessed 3 of the 6 numbers right out of the 5 of us *I called Snookms & he gave me fucking prime numbers; for a LOTTERY!* plus had the multiplier of 5, so she won 35 dollars. Strange how such events lead to such things. & such!
Didn't get home til close to 1 in the am, Snookms was passed out on the couch & the spawn were already at their vices. Tha Jr. was enveloped in Windwaker, as usual, & David (Fezziwig) was very very close to defeating Majora on Majora's mask, had 19 of the 20 masks you have to trade to get to where you need to go. I have to say that I love this game. It is pretty much the most amazing of the Zelda series. The sidequests & lore are a must, you HAVE to get all the masks if you want to beat the game and even though the masks are a bitch to obtain in most cases, they are well worth the amusement. I spent/wasted 3 months of my petty life defeating the first 2 temples on that game, but when the game froze up & erased all my shit from the girly pirate fortress AFTER I had obtained all those fucking eggs....I just, well, I just LOST it. I went numb & frigid for at least a week & vowed I would never play that game again. When the spawn picked it back over the summer, they used my prior knowledge & experience from the game & now they are far more 'experted' than I in the way of this game. But seriously. This game is beautiful & needs to be made more beautiful with better graphics. Like maybe cell-shade animation, perhaps Windwaker style? Keep everything else though Dear God! The music, the lovely evil moon descending upon you, the many forms you become, all the quirky lovely people you have to talk to. You get a Giant's Mask for Christ's sake, & you can only use it to defeat a boss, where you really become a giant! The final reward for all your efforts? The Fierce Deity Mask, which makes you ascend to Godhood, Link style. Pretty amazing if you ask me.
Sunday was a lazy day for me. Woke up feeling PMS to the max, so I just pattered around & enjoyed the Fall-like Foreshadowings. You know there's lovely orange-leafed trouble right around the corner whenever Mysty starts busting out THIS pretty kitty:
I was in the mood for hunting for new graphic novels, but sick of old B&N so I slipped away for a few & went to Half Price. Saw an old pal & her kiddo & whaddoya know? Her feller is working there too! Ha! I did find 2 jewels I am now coveting hardcore in the graphic novel section, for Lucifer the Morning Star has his own fucking series out that I did not know of. I pine for this; even in my sleep. How I fell in deep love with him in the Sandman Series. But alas, the two series that were available were more dollars than I had planned to spend, so I poo-pooed all over the place and pouted like a little brat in the Dragonlance section. I decided to comfort myself by going to the Dollar Tree & was consoled by Bjork cds for a dollar & the book ' The Kings of New York ' (for a fucking dollar, if you can believe it!). I was so happy for my findings that I celebrated by buying Tha Jr. a new sword, shield, & axe to add to his collection of cosplay like treasures.
After that, I paid a visit to Michaels, where I could live if you let me. I had my heart set on buying another tree pendant, (this one is silver with greenish-blue jewels encrusted into the branches, vs. my gold one with red jewels) & this lovely key pendant too, but they were far more expensive than I had anticipated so I just stuck with the owl pendant. He's purdy too. Large silver body, luminious black eyes.
I look forward to sporting that baby. & my new Heavy Boots. I wore them once when I met up with Mysty last week, but haven't sported them since, cause while they are awesome boots, they are painful boots too. But I luff them!
Well, Fall is nearly upon us, and I look forward to it's coming. I need to start really contemplating what pumpkins I am going to carve for Mysty's weddding reception. I really love the white ones, but they are so hard on my carpel tunnel infected hands & wrists. But the outcome is so much more defined & beautiful.
The other downside to these kinds of pumpkins is that the rind is so thick, they don't illuminate very well when a candle is placed inside them. & the rinds start to really stink after a while!
But then, here is another I did on a regular ol' orange feller, 2 or so years ago, & the outcome was so flimsy!
(I totally cut myself on that bastard too!)
So yeah. I'm gonna be busy. Meg-busy! But FUN-busy too.
Must go. Last night's taco salad calls to me.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
What's my motivation?
Oh man. Man oh man! I haven't written here for a long time.
Things have been pretty busy here ever since the kids started school back up. You'd think I'd have more time to do shit like this, but really...The first week of school for the kids was anarchy man, plain and simple. I was so nervous for Tha Jr. starting up Jr. High. Lockers! Many different teachers! Many different classrooms! It was making me crave muscle relaxers, the anxiety level was so high.
The anarchy week transitioned into this week of complete calm and silence, but it's taking my body a long time to adjust to the newness of it all. Every year I have a breakdown after the kids go back to school and it takes me about a week to recover. It feels something like 'empty nest syndrome'. Or at least what I imagine it to be. I usually cry for the first few days because I miss the kids so much. It'll be over something simple, like seeing the motor scooter charging in our dining room, unoccupied by sweaty smelly spawn. Or hearing The Weather Channel on every t.v. in the house, with no Mike Jr. there to recite what the weather is going to be in 42 different counties. He watches that shit the way I used to watch He-Man back in the day. It's beautiful how different minds enjoy different things, y'know? But yes, all these little things and more make me cry. I just let myself these days, instead of bottling it up. It feels so much better that way. The silence of their bedroom, versus the usual Ocarina of Time & Majora's Mask theme music blaring from their televisions is a lonesome feeling too. But it's all for the good. Their in school, learning how to insult their classmates and pass notes behind the teacher's back, just like every other student in this universe.
Yesterday was pretty exciting for Tha Jr. & I cause it was his first day of Chess Club. It was last minute as fuck, didn't even realize there was going to be a chess meet until I was already driving far, far away from the school, but we turned around, found the room it was being held in, introduced ourselves & my reasoning for feeling the need to be the only parent in the building to escort their child to chess club *autism sometimes = nervousness which sometimes = lack of ability to communicate optimally which sometimes = child/mother meltdown combo.*
The teacher in charge of the chess club was really cool & he kept staring at my City of Saints & Madmen book that I brought along to read while the Jr. played chess like he knew it of olde or some shit. I wonder if he does? These are the narratives that keep me up at night. But yes, every Tuesday, after school there is a chess meeting in which Tha Jr. has the opportunity to forge his blade in the fire that is checkmate. It was REALLY quite lovely, because one of Mike's classmates that new him from his previous school said very loudly, "Mike was the best chess player in all of 6th grade!" & this boy, he surprised me, cause he's not the type to brag about others' winnings & such. He's the type that gets in trouble for insulting others in school & has to have his parents come pick him up on a regular basis. So for me, it was beam-like amazing to hear someone say that about my spawn.
Another funny I should share is that everyone at Tha Jr.'s school keeps thinking I'm a student there. Twice I was stopped and questioned of my intentionable whereabouts. I said, "Home?" & then they said, "HomeROOM?" & then I said "Huh?" and was like "Oh! I'm a parent." The second time it happened there was another teacher, and she laughed all the way down the hall at me and said, "You look like an 8th grader!" So now everytime I pass them in the hall after walking the Jr. halfway (not all the way, cause, y'know, don't wanna cramp his style) to his class she yells out and laughs & says, "It's our 8th grade mom!" It's funny and makes my day until I realize how I must look to everybody when walking around Metropolis holding Snookms 32 year old hand. Even one of the students mistook me for a fellow classmate in chess club. I heard him telling the girl he was getting ready to engage in a game of chess in, "Well, why don't we play this girl over here first. She doesn't look like she's had a chance to do a match with anybody yet". When I said, "Oh, it's okay, I'm just a parent" the kid said, "Oh my gosh! I thought you were an 8th grader. You LOOK like one!" I giggled & then went back to my reading of Dradin shanking Dvorak's punk ass. Is it wrong that I've fallen in love with Dradin's character so fast? He's naked! & in love with a mannequinns' head! I can't tell you how many times I wish someone would've sympathized with that plight when it was mine own!
I'm kinda bummed cause Snookms deleted his myspace account. And I don't know why I'm really all that bummed cause he doesn't ever utilize it anyway. I just like seeing his purdy profile picture that I hand made on my own profile & then clicking it to see that I could say, "Yep. That's MY bitch right thar." I know. I'm just ONE OF THOSE kinds of pathetic myspacers. I stalk! I steele! & then I wish you back from whence you came! But Snookms HAD to delete it if he's going to become a police officer. I'm s'very excited to see this happen for him. My Snookms just MIGHT be a po-po!!!! I wonder if he'll hafta bust any caps in any asses. I hope not.
Got a new B.C. Rich Warlock Guitar Hero controller for the ps2. David bought it with the remainder of his birthday money from Disc Replay, which I guess that technically means it is not 'new'. But you know what I mean right? The Warlock is very hard to use though. The buttons are closer together than what we're used to, the neck is fatter, and we STILL haven't got the whole calibration lag thingy in control on our new HD. It pisses me off royally too, cause I can no longer beat The Wind Cries Mary on Expert anymore. I know it has at least 1/8 of a fraction to do with me being rusty as a tentspike too though. FAIL!
Also, in other cool news, *turns to face different angle of camera shot* I have an actual artist for my latest work! (Teenage Wasteland)
It's my brother's old best friend from when we lived in South San Francisco.
He was one of those artists that you coveted and planned their murder cause they won their place in school popularity for their drawing skills alone, & whether they had the social skills of a leper was an aside?
(Some of his work)
So yeah. I'm pretty fucking excited.
I guess he's been trying to find our whole family (the Bedfords, which of course I was formerly one of) on the net for quite some time now (he even made this page! I just GIGGLE at the part where he says, "I have lots of HP. Jen is the weak one that you have to protect, but has lots of MP".) & just recently found me on myspace in hopes of getting in touch with my brother. In the process we have been exchanging emails back & forth playing 'catch up' & I put my balls on for a day and asked him if he was interested in doing the art for my projects. He's really excited about it & so am I & even if it IS not going to be done til the year 2060. Our first collaberation is going to be him doing a black & white inked (his artistic spiel splattered all over it of course) version of this:
So like. Needless to say, I'm totally jazzed about it!
He (my awesome artist) is about to be deployed, he's a jet fighter avionics specialist. I'm am meg-tarded in awe of that position. I've always had a thing for jet fighters & the ways of such things. Ever since like, D.A.R.Y.L..... Anyone ever love that boy/movie/boy as much as I did? My boy Tha Jr. really reminds me of him in the way of looks. I wonder what Barret Oliver looks like now. I had it BAD for him. And all because of that damn fighter pilot helm.
Well now, time has flown by me once again and I must go. Don't know when I'll be back, but I hope it's sooner than later. I miss everybody. Like, the whole 2 people that ever comment here. If you love 'em like I do, it's more than you'll ever need.
G'day!
Things have been pretty busy here ever since the kids started school back up. You'd think I'd have more time to do shit like this, but really...The first week of school for the kids was anarchy man, plain and simple. I was so nervous for Tha Jr. starting up Jr. High. Lockers! Many different teachers! Many different classrooms! It was making me crave muscle relaxers, the anxiety level was so high.
The anarchy week transitioned into this week of complete calm and silence, but it's taking my body a long time to adjust to the newness of it all. Every year I have a breakdown after the kids go back to school and it takes me about a week to recover. It feels something like 'empty nest syndrome'. Or at least what I imagine it to be. I usually cry for the first few days because I miss the kids so much. It'll be over something simple, like seeing the motor scooter charging in our dining room, unoccupied by sweaty smelly spawn. Or hearing The Weather Channel on every t.v. in the house, with no Mike Jr. there to recite what the weather is going to be in 42 different counties. He watches that shit the way I used to watch He-Man back in the day. It's beautiful how different minds enjoy different things, y'know? But yes, all these little things and more make me cry. I just let myself these days, instead of bottling it up. It feels so much better that way. The silence of their bedroom, versus the usual Ocarina of Time & Majora's Mask theme music blaring from their televisions is a lonesome feeling too. But it's all for the good. Their in school, learning how to insult their classmates and pass notes behind the teacher's back, just like every other student in this universe.
Yesterday was pretty exciting for Tha Jr. & I cause it was his first day of Chess Club. It was last minute as fuck, didn't even realize there was going to be a chess meet until I was already driving far, far away from the school, but we turned around, found the room it was being held in, introduced ourselves & my reasoning for feeling the need to be the only parent in the building to escort their child to chess club *autism sometimes = nervousness which sometimes = lack of ability to communicate optimally which sometimes = child/mother meltdown combo.*
The teacher in charge of the chess club was really cool & he kept staring at my City of Saints & Madmen book that I brought along to read while the Jr. played chess like he knew it of olde or some shit. I wonder if he does? These are the narratives that keep me up at night. But yes, every Tuesday, after school there is a chess meeting in which Tha Jr. has the opportunity to forge his blade in the fire that is checkmate. It was REALLY quite lovely, because one of Mike's classmates that new him from his previous school said very loudly, "Mike was the best chess player in all of 6th grade!" & this boy, he surprised me, cause he's not the type to brag about others' winnings & such. He's the type that gets in trouble for insulting others in school & has to have his parents come pick him up on a regular basis. So for me, it was beam-like amazing to hear someone say that about my spawn.
Another funny I should share is that everyone at Tha Jr.'s school keeps thinking I'm a student there. Twice I was stopped and questioned of my intentionable whereabouts. I said, "Home?" & then they said, "HomeROOM?" & then I said "Huh?" and was like "Oh! I'm a parent." The second time it happened there was another teacher, and she laughed all the way down the hall at me and said, "You look like an 8th grader!" So now everytime I pass them in the hall after walking the Jr. halfway (not all the way, cause, y'know, don't wanna cramp his style) to his class she yells out and laughs & says, "It's our 8th grade mom!" It's funny and makes my day until I realize how I must look to everybody when walking around Metropolis holding Snookms 32 year old hand. Even one of the students mistook me for a fellow classmate in chess club. I heard him telling the girl he was getting ready to engage in a game of chess in, "Well, why don't we play this girl over here first. She doesn't look like she's had a chance to do a match with anybody yet". When I said, "Oh, it's okay, I'm just a parent" the kid said, "Oh my gosh! I thought you were an 8th grader. You LOOK like one!" I giggled & then went back to my reading of Dradin shanking Dvorak's punk ass. Is it wrong that I've fallen in love with Dradin's character so fast? He's naked! & in love with a mannequinns' head! I can't tell you how many times I wish someone would've sympathized with that plight when it was mine own!
I'm kinda bummed cause Snookms deleted his myspace account. And I don't know why I'm really all that bummed cause he doesn't ever utilize it anyway. I just like seeing his purdy profile picture that I hand made on my own profile & then clicking it to see that I could say, "Yep. That's MY bitch right thar." I know. I'm just ONE OF THOSE kinds of pathetic myspacers. I stalk! I steele! & then I wish you back from whence you came! But Snookms HAD to delete it if he's going to become a police officer. I'm s'very excited to see this happen for him. My Snookms just MIGHT be a po-po!!!! I wonder if he'll hafta bust any caps in any asses. I hope not.
Got a new B.C. Rich Warlock Guitar Hero controller for the ps2. David bought it with the remainder of his birthday money from Disc Replay, which I guess that technically means it is not 'new'. But you know what I mean right? The Warlock is very hard to use though. The buttons are closer together than what we're used to, the neck is fatter, and we STILL haven't got the whole calibration lag thingy in control on our new HD. It pisses me off royally too, cause I can no longer beat The Wind Cries Mary on Expert anymore. I know it has at least 1/8 of a fraction to do with me being rusty as a tentspike too though. FAIL!
Also, in other cool news, *turns to face different angle of camera shot* I have an actual artist for my latest work! (Teenage Wasteland)
It's my brother's old best friend from when we lived in South San Francisco.
He was one of those artists that you coveted and planned their murder cause they won their place in school popularity for their drawing skills alone, & whether they had the social skills of a leper was an aside?
(Some of his work)
So yeah. I'm pretty fucking excited.
I guess he's been trying to find our whole family (the Bedfords, which of course I was formerly one of) on the net for quite some time now (he even made this page! I just GIGGLE at the part where he says, "I have lots of HP. Jen is the weak one that you have to protect, but has lots of MP".) & just recently found me on myspace in hopes of getting in touch with my brother. In the process we have been exchanging emails back & forth playing 'catch up' & I put my balls on for a day and asked him if he was interested in doing the art for my projects. He's really excited about it & so am I & even if it IS not going to be done til the year 2060. Our first collaberation is going to be him doing a black & white inked (his artistic spiel splattered all over it of course) version of this:
So like. Needless to say, I'm totally jazzed about it!
He (my awesome artist) is about to be deployed, he's a jet fighter avionics specialist. I'm am meg-tarded in awe of that position. I've always had a thing for jet fighters & the ways of such things. Ever since like, D.A.R.Y.L..... Anyone ever love that boy/movie/boy as much as I did? My boy Tha Jr. really reminds me of him in the way of looks. I wonder what Barret Oliver looks like now. I had it BAD for him. And all because of that damn fighter pilot helm.
Well now, time has flown by me once again and I must go. Don't know when I'll be back, but I hope it's sooner than later. I miss everybody. Like, the whole 2 people that ever comment here. If you love 'em like I do, it's more than you'll ever need.
G'day!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Encouragement from a cousin I once wanted to make 3 eyed babies with....
I got this awesome message from my cousin Jesse the other day:
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: J
(Jesse's the one on the left. Standing next to her is my other awesome cousin Sebastian which is her brother)
To: The Other Half of the Morning Star
Date: Jul 20, 2009 10:51 PM
Subject:
Rachel,I read your recent blog. I love Snookms for his support. Tell him, that okay? :)
I want to share my own reaction to your autobiography.This is a quote from a journal entry I wrote the night after I finished your book:
“Today I read a book written by my cousin. It was a very raw, heartfelt and often gut-wrenching account of what it is like to be a bi-polar mother of three children - the oldest of which is autistic - and the wife of a true OCD sufferer. The autobiography is filled with imagery that made it difficult for me to continue reading it for any length of time. Instead, I had to digest it in short bursts, putting the book down between chapters, leaving it on the coffee table while I distanced myself from it. Not because it was too graphic or terrible to deal with, but because it was written in such a way that as a reader, you are pulled into the very fabric of her mind; the scattered chaos and disjointed nature of the telling transcended the very real leap between “tell me” or “show me.”
Rachel showed me.
Whether the writing style was intended or not, I will never know. What is important is that I love this cousin who I haven’t seen in over fifteen years, and who I barely knew as a child. I love her, and I love her all the more because through bearing the secret parts of who she is, and how she came to be, she made me feel that I know her.
I admire her, for her strengths and her weaknesses. I admire her struggles, her successes, and her failures. Mostly, I admire her for her honestly.”
My lovely cousin,Writers practice their art for a myriad of reasons. If you are lucky, you get a glimpse of the true reasons they put the morsels in their head down on paper for the rest of the world to consume. Most often, writers aren’t completely honest about that. They think they are, but in truth, they feel that the bleeding of their life-blood onto parchment is more than enough…why must everyone demand more?
So they lie.
Or they only tell a partial truth.
Everyone is a critic. :)
Rachel, it is true that any person can call themselves a writer. What you need to hold close is that there are reasons why you wrote the things that you did, in the style that you wrote it. You may not have started out knowing why it was important to give this snapshot into your very personal experiences. Indeed, you may not have known even after you hit the last key. That doesn’t matter here. What does matter is that you did many brave things at once, and if there is a critic out there, we both know that they can never be as harsh on you as you would be on yourself.
Fuck them. You did an amazing thing. And you did it with love. You did it with forgiveness. You did it with strength.
You shared a part of yourself. You went through the process of self-publishing. You dared to let people see these extremely personal facets of Rachel The Child/Rachel the Adult/Rachel the Parent/Rachel the Wife/Rachel the Daughter. You encouraged people to read it, all the while knowing that the potential for judgment and criticism was hovering like a fly at your picnic table, just waiting to land on your food and ruin your meal. Do NOT let it ruin your picnic.
It was Brave.
It was fabulous.
“It isn’t brave if you aren’t scared.”
I love you, Cousin! Keep writing!
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: J
(Jesse's the one on the left. Standing next to her is my other awesome cousin Sebastian which is her brother)
To: The Other Half of the Morning Star
Date: Jul 20, 2009 10:51 PM
Subject:
Rachel,I read your recent blog. I love Snookms for his support. Tell him, that okay? :)
I want to share my own reaction to your autobiography.This is a quote from a journal entry I wrote the night after I finished your book:
“Today I read a book written by my cousin. It was a very raw, heartfelt and often gut-wrenching account of what it is like to be a bi-polar mother of three children - the oldest of which is autistic - and the wife of a true OCD sufferer. The autobiography is filled with imagery that made it difficult for me to continue reading it for any length of time. Instead, I had to digest it in short bursts, putting the book down between chapters, leaving it on the coffee table while I distanced myself from it. Not because it was too graphic or terrible to deal with, but because it was written in such a way that as a reader, you are pulled into the very fabric of her mind; the scattered chaos and disjointed nature of the telling transcended the very real leap between “tell me” or “show me.”
Rachel showed me.
Whether the writing style was intended or not, I will never know. What is important is that I love this cousin who I haven’t seen in over fifteen years, and who I barely knew as a child. I love her, and I love her all the more because through bearing the secret parts of who she is, and how she came to be, she made me feel that I know her.
I admire her, for her strengths and her weaknesses. I admire her struggles, her successes, and her failures. Mostly, I admire her for her honestly.”
My lovely cousin,Writers practice their art for a myriad of reasons. If you are lucky, you get a glimpse of the true reasons they put the morsels in their head down on paper for the rest of the world to consume. Most often, writers aren’t completely honest about that. They think they are, but in truth, they feel that the bleeding of their life-blood onto parchment is more than enough…why must everyone demand more?
So they lie.
Or they only tell a partial truth.
Everyone is a critic. :)
Rachel, it is true that any person can call themselves a writer. What you need to hold close is that there are reasons why you wrote the things that you did, in the style that you wrote it. You may not have started out knowing why it was important to give this snapshot into your very personal experiences. Indeed, you may not have known even after you hit the last key. That doesn’t matter here. What does matter is that you did many brave things at once, and if there is a critic out there, we both know that they can never be as harsh on you as you would be on yourself.
Fuck them. You did an amazing thing. And you did it with love. You did it with forgiveness. You did it with strength.
You shared a part of yourself. You went through the process of self-publishing. You dared to let people see these extremely personal facets of Rachel The Child/Rachel the Adult/Rachel the Parent/Rachel the Wife/Rachel the Daughter. You encouraged people to read it, all the while knowing that the potential for judgment and criticism was hovering like a fly at your picnic table, just waiting to land on your food and ruin your meal. Do NOT let it ruin your picnic.
It was Brave.
It was fabulous.
“It isn’t brave if you aren’t scared.”
I love you, Cousin! Keep writing!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Fucking AUTISTIC!
Kristi is my sister-in-law. In many ways, she is like the sister I never had. I never had a sister, and while I quite enjoyed sharing my childhood with 3 other younger brothers, there was always this secret longing for a fellow vagina to share my female secrets, hopes and dreams with.
Kristi is not really that kind of a gal. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with that, at least I don't feel that way, but she's more of the "Protector" archetype.
While I don't get much time to chat by the seaside with her and sip on tea, there are so many things this person does that leaves me in awe of her.
Growing up, I had no balls. I never stood up for myself. The 'protector' in me was stuffed far away in the recesses of my personality, and usually when she DID come out, it was with a bloody axe and everyone in the room was left on their knees and crying. So I did my best to hide her away and instead let the core of me become this blissfully unaware flesh shield, ready to take all the blows that this universe had to throw at me.
I imagine somewhere in time, space, and beauty, that Kristi might have led this sort of lifestyle too growing up. Here is where we are alike.
Somewhere in time though, she found a way to let her "Protector" come out without feeling the need to kill every living thing in the room before she kicked the dust off her boots and said farewell.
Here is where we differ.
Yesterday, my oldest son, Tha Jr., spent the night at Kristi's house. She had promised that she would let him stay over when she had more time (the woman's pretty fucking busy with 6 kids to take care of and her own cleaning business to attend to) because she wasn't able to make it to his birthday in June. I didn't feel this was neccessary just because I already know she would do anything for my son. That's just how she rolls for those she loves.
She took him to Walmart before returning him to me, but not before the motherfucking migraines could take a chunk out of my kiddo again like they always do, leaving him an inanimate pile of flesh, with only enough strength to run to the bathroom in order to puke his guts out every five minutes.
But once that 'dance' was finished and he felt better, she took him to Walmart and let him pick out some Lego set-ups (his newest intense interest/obsession). He was happy as a kid could ever be, feeling newly refreshed after an afternoon of being sick, and having new Spongebob Legos to look forward to building Bikini Bottom Empires with.
Kristi says her and Mike were in the medicine section of Walmart when she noticed an older woman, a Walmart employee, stop him and say something. She also noticed that Mike's head was suddenly hung down low as she walked away.
"What happened?" Kristi asked.
"Nothing. Just don't worry about it Aunt Kristi."
"What'd that lady say to you?" She presses.
"She told me I can't skate with my Heelies in here, but I wasn't skating."
"Huh." Kristi follows the older woman down the aisle.
"Excuse me. Miss? Do you have a problem with this kid?" Kristi gestures toward my son.
"Oh. I was just telling him that he doesn't need to be skating in this store", employee is dismissive.
"Well, next time, if you have a problem with something my kids are doing, can you tell me instead, and then I can tell them myself? He wasn't even skating. And besides even if he was, I don't see a sign here that says, "No Skating", Kristi tries to reply calmly.
"He's a grown boy. He can handle it. And besides, I saw him skating." The old croon replies.
"I've been watching him the whole time. No he wasn't. And besides, you don't know what could be going on with any of these kids, so you should always notify the parent first. I was right here with him. You could've told me."
"Well, I don't see what the big problem is!" Says the old croon.
Kristi leans in real close to the old croon's face. "He's fucking AUTISTIC!" she whispers vehemently.
"He's got ears", the old croon comes back with smoothly.
"You know what? You're RUDE. I want to speak with your manager. I'm going to report you."
And so she did.
There's been so many times I wanted to do that, stand up for my kid the way she has this amazing ability to do for herself. But I'm always trying to see the 'reasonable' side of the situation, and I argue all the possibilities of why I shouldn't be "in your face" about my son's whole autism thing. The old croon's right. The kid's a grown boy. And yeah. He does have ears. But where was her heart in all of this? She's a grown woman. She's got ears too. And a mouth. And a nose. Does it mean that we as a humanity have the right to abuse our employee powers just because there is some traditional, age old adage about how kids shouldn't be having more fun than the adults?
Fuck that. No.
And thank you Kristi. I heart you. You earn my "Hero of the Year" award.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Kristi is not really that kind of a gal. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with that, at least I don't feel that way, but she's more of the "Protector" archetype.
While I don't get much time to chat by the seaside with her and sip on tea, there are so many things this person does that leaves me in awe of her.
Growing up, I had no balls. I never stood up for myself. The 'protector' in me was stuffed far away in the recesses of my personality, and usually when she DID come out, it was with a bloody axe and everyone in the room was left on their knees and crying. So I did my best to hide her away and instead let the core of me become this blissfully unaware flesh shield, ready to take all the blows that this universe had to throw at me.
I imagine somewhere in time, space, and beauty, that Kristi might have led this sort of lifestyle too growing up. Here is where we are alike.
Somewhere in time though, she found a way to let her "Protector" come out without feeling the need to kill every living thing in the room before she kicked the dust off her boots and said farewell.
Here is where we differ.
Yesterday, my oldest son, Tha Jr., spent the night at Kristi's house. She had promised that she would let him stay over when she had more time (the woman's pretty fucking busy with 6 kids to take care of and her own cleaning business to attend to) because she wasn't able to make it to his birthday in June. I didn't feel this was neccessary just because I already know she would do anything for my son. That's just how she rolls for those she loves.
She took him to Walmart before returning him to me, but not before the motherfucking migraines could take a chunk out of my kiddo again like they always do, leaving him an inanimate pile of flesh, with only enough strength to run to the bathroom in order to puke his guts out every five minutes.
But once that 'dance' was finished and he felt better, she took him to Walmart and let him pick out some Lego set-ups (his newest intense interest/obsession). He was happy as a kid could ever be, feeling newly refreshed after an afternoon of being sick, and having new Spongebob Legos to look forward to building Bikini Bottom Empires with.
Kristi says her and Mike were in the medicine section of Walmart when she noticed an older woman, a Walmart employee, stop him and say something. She also noticed that Mike's head was suddenly hung down low as she walked away.
"What happened?" Kristi asked.
"Nothing. Just don't worry about it Aunt Kristi."
"What'd that lady say to you?" She presses.
"She told me I can't skate with my Heelies in here, but I wasn't skating."
"Huh." Kristi follows the older woman down the aisle.
"Excuse me. Miss? Do you have a problem with this kid?" Kristi gestures toward my son.
"Oh. I was just telling him that he doesn't need to be skating in this store", employee is dismissive.
"Well, next time, if you have a problem with something my kids are doing, can you tell me instead, and then I can tell them myself? He wasn't even skating. And besides even if he was, I don't see a sign here that says, "No Skating", Kristi tries to reply calmly.
"He's a grown boy. He can handle it. And besides, I saw him skating." The old croon replies.
"I've been watching him the whole time. No he wasn't. And besides, you don't know what could be going on with any of these kids, so you should always notify the parent first. I was right here with him. You could've told me."
"Well, I don't see what the big problem is!" Says the old croon.
Kristi leans in real close to the old croon's face. "He's fucking AUTISTIC!" she whispers vehemently.
"He's got ears", the old croon comes back with smoothly.
"You know what? You're RUDE. I want to speak with your manager. I'm going to report you."
And so she did.
There's been so many times I wanted to do that, stand up for my kid the way she has this amazing ability to do for herself. But I'm always trying to see the 'reasonable' side of the situation, and I argue all the possibilities of why I shouldn't be "in your face" about my son's whole autism thing. The old croon's right. The kid's a grown boy. And yeah. He does have ears. But where was her heart in all of this? She's a grown woman. She's got ears too. And a mouth. And a nose. Does it mean that we as a humanity have the right to abuse our employee powers just because there is some traditional, age old adage about how kids shouldn't be having more fun than the adults?
Fuck that. No.
And thank you Kristi. I heart you. You earn my "Hero of the Year" award.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hero of the Year
Monday, July 20, 2009
Perspective
Okay so I have exactly 21 minutes before I need to get my spawn up for government provided free lunches @ my kiddo's school. Today cheeseburgers are on the menu and the Jr. has been bitching for cheeseburgers for the past 3 days so I s'pose I better take advantage of this ample opportune.
Much has taken place in my life in these few short days of existence here @ the humble Turner abode. For reasons I am not aware of, images of my therapist come to mind. This week in therapy was my first chance to use a couch instead of a chair while yapping my brains out to my therapist. Motherine (the nickname I've secretly given my therapist) thought it would help me to feel more relaxed if I was on a couch, and even invited me to lay down if I felt so inclined. It's kinda funny though, cause when I first arrived to my appointment I had forgotten all about the whole 'couch' deal, so when she reminded me that she checked out a room with a couch all I could do is crack up for like 5 minutes straight when we first got in the room. I felt hella dumb, what with all the 'couch' humor I've seen in the Sunday morning comic strips I used to read when I was a wee baby. Luckily Motherine understood my plight and took no offense to it.
That's another thing. My therapist is a nun. A badass, scary looking nun. Like the kind you see in Exorcist 3 whomping around corners with giant hedgeclippers ready to chop "Holy" in half like butter? Well that's what images come to mind whenever I hear the word 'nun', I don't know about you folks. But yep, m'lady is a nun, dressed all in black (she's greek orthodox) and she's like 6 fucking feet tall and the epitome of human kindness. The best thing about her is that I can tell this woman anything. I mean, I know you SHOULD be able to tell your therapist anything, right? But this is ME were talking about here. And the fact that she's a nun doesn't make it any easier to relay detailed imagery of the dreams I have about her. She encourages me to tell her about these dreams (in a strictly platonic, "no, I don't want you to bend over and pray with your rosary beads" kind of way) which is not easy for me. Most of these dreams involved me pulling off her habit with my teeth and fondling her cinnamon flesh orbs with my lips. Another dream involved her finding me in the adult section of a video store, and me being commanded to get on my knees in the middle of the store doing more than just praying. So fucking surreal. But yet she listens to me, with a straight face and an open mind. She's just amazing like that.
Let's see. What else?
Oh. I've been doing a lot of crying and self doubt kind of thing. Erica Orloff wrote a post just recently about how when you write you give a piece of yourself away with the writing and was pondering the possibility of whether or not this same kind of giving takes place in instances other than art.
I believe it does. When you give it your all, no matter what it is, from wiping asses to doing dishes, to writing the perfect storyline to creating the Sistine Chapel. It's there. If you gave it your all, fuck yes. It's there.
I felt that way when I starting 'whoring' my book out. It was painstaking misery for me to open myself up in that way, and then to basically tell everyone, "Hey all, come and buy me too!" It fucking suck, suck, SUCKED.
Luckily I've had Snookms supporting me all the way. He's been a "go against the grain" kind of a guy from the get-go, so he had no problems lifting me back up when I had fallen down from so many things. Little things, like posts from writers I highly respect saying that "Any schmoe with an online connection can self-pub and call themselves a writer." This writer explained their stance on how they take their writing very seriously, and that if it sounded like they were elitist in this area, well then, yeah, they were elitist. It made my heart fold in two and did a ridiculous stupid dumb thing on my emotions, because in a nutshell, that's basically what I am. A fucking Schmoe. With an online connection. Who self pubbed. The only thing missing from this equation is that I wasn't technically calling myself a writer. But c'mon now....if you write a book and ask people to buy it, then that pretty much goes without saying.
So I had to come full circle with that, that......observation? Statement? Opinion? Fact? Whatever the fuck it was, I dealt with it. I let it hit me like a tidal wave and take me down to where the baptized drown. It felt fucking shameful. But there was clarity at the end of the tunnel. A spiritually filled kind of clarity that felt so fucking real and true that I lasted on that high all day.
And then came crashing down the next. I had been out of my herbal supplements for a few days now, and because of my fluctuating depression had not gone out and did my duty of restocking my Omega 3's and St. Johns Wort. But I felt as though maybe they weren't working because of all the mood swings I was dealing with. According to my therapist, I'm SUPPOSED to be on some sort of prescription meds, like Zoloft or Prozac along with other stuffs that will re-uptake my inhibitors and all that jazz, whatever that means. But I refuse to do that dance, hence the herbal supplements. Therapist said I should try SOMETHING what with all the trouble I was getting myself into. But yeah, so I went without meds for sometime and as much as I argued against it, the void of such mind/mood altering chemicals did a massive number on me. And Snookms footed the bill this time. Cleaned up the mess. He wasn't resentful, and he still loves me. I hate myself for that shit, and if I had go back in time powers, trust me, that would be one of those things I would've gone backed to and changed. But I don't so here yet is another thing to add on my list of shit to come full circle with and deal head on.
Through my breakdown of broken glass and temporary fallen empires Snookms talked to me. Helped me to see the truth instead of hide from it. To embrace it proudly and not let others standards of what they did to feel their own measure of success taint my own feeling of a job well done. And the beautiful thing about this all is that Snookms doesn't talk shit about what one considers 'opposing forces'. He gets you to look at it from their perspective, and make you think about why they might possibly be feeling the way they do, and instead have compassion and understanding for a new way of looking at things. He doesn't verbally attack them or assault them. He just looks at it from their perpective.
Although we don't agree on everything, it's issues like this that keep us together through the disagreements of why I think the kids SHOULD go with me to the premieres of new Harry Potter flicks and all the arguable hogwash that he presents telling me why they SHOULDN'T go see it. It's hard to respect and sensibly stand on someone else's ground when you know half that fucking ground belongs to you and all you wanna do is punch a motherfucker in the face for not seeing things your way. But again, when shining moments of clarity come forth like North Stars in the night to lead your way, all you can do is agree to disagree on the petty shit and hold hands through the long haul.
Well I've gone far past my 21 minute mark, so I must go forth and receive the grace that is a free cheeseburger.
Much has taken place in my life in these few short days of existence here @ the humble Turner abode. For reasons I am not aware of, images of my therapist come to mind. This week in therapy was my first chance to use a couch instead of a chair while yapping my brains out to my therapist. Motherine (the nickname I've secretly given my therapist) thought it would help me to feel more relaxed if I was on a couch, and even invited me to lay down if I felt so inclined. It's kinda funny though, cause when I first arrived to my appointment I had forgotten all about the whole 'couch' deal, so when she reminded me that she checked out a room with a couch all I could do is crack up for like 5 minutes straight when we first got in the room. I felt hella dumb, what with all the 'couch' humor I've seen in the Sunday morning comic strips I used to read when I was a wee baby. Luckily Motherine understood my plight and took no offense to it.
That's another thing. My therapist is a nun. A badass, scary looking nun. Like the kind you see in Exorcist 3 whomping around corners with giant hedgeclippers ready to chop "Holy" in half like butter? Well that's what images come to mind whenever I hear the word 'nun', I don't know about you folks. But yep, m'lady is a nun, dressed all in black (she's greek orthodox) and she's like 6 fucking feet tall and the epitome of human kindness. The best thing about her is that I can tell this woman anything. I mean, I know you SHOULD be able to tell your therapist anything, right? But this is ME were talking about here. And the fact that she's a nun doesn't make it any easier to relay detailed imagery of the dreams I have about her. She encourages me to tell her about these dreams (in a strictly platonic, "no, I don't want you to bend over and pray with your rosary beads" kind of way) which is not easy for me. Most of these dreams involved me pulling off her habit with my teeth and fondling her cinnamon flesh orbs with my lips. Another dream involved her finding me in the adult section of a video store, and me being commanded to get on my knees in the middle of the store doing more than just praying. So fucking surreal. But yet she listens to me, with a straight face and an open mind. She's just amazing like that.
Let's see. What else?
Oh. I've been doing a lot of crying and self doubt kind of thing. Erica Orloff wrote a post just recently about how when you write you give a piece of yourself away with the writing and was pondering the possibility of whether or not this same kind of giving takes place in instances other than art.
I believe it does. When you give it your all, no matter what it is, from wiping asses to doing dishes, to writing the perfect storyline to creating the Sistine Chapel. It's there. If you gave it your all, fuck yes. It's there.
I felt that way when I starting 'whoring' my book out. It was painstaking misery for me to open myself up in that way, and then to basically tell everyone, "Hey all, come and buy me too!" It fucking suck, suck, SUCKED.
Luckily I've had Snookms supporting me all the way. He's been a "go against the grain" kind of a guy from the get-go, so he had no problems lifting me back up when I had fallen down from so many things. Little things, like posts from writers I highly respect saying that "Any schmoe with an online connection can self-pub and call themselves a writer." This writer explained their stance on how they take their writing very seriously, and that if it sounded like they were elitist in this area, well then, yeah, they were elitist. It made my heart fold in two and did a ridiculous stupid dumb thing on my emotions, because in a nutshell, that's basically what I am. A fucking Schmoe. With an online connection. Who self pubbed. The only thing missing from this equation is that I wasn't technically calling myself a writer. But c'mon now....if you write a book and ask people to buy it, then that pretty much goes without saying.
So I had to come full circle with that, that......observation? Statement? Opinion? Fact? Whatever the fuck it was, I dealt with it. I let it hit me like a tidal wave and take me down to where the baptized drown. It felt fucking shameful. But there was clarity at the end of the tunnel. A spiritually filled kind of clarity that felt so fucking real and true that I lasted on that high all day.
And then came crashing down the next. I had been out of my herbal supplements for a few days now, and because of my fluctuating depression had not gone out and did my duty of restocking my Omega 3's and St. Johns Wort. But I felt as though maybe they weren't working because of all the mood swings I was dealing with. According to my therapist, I'm SUPPOSED to be on some sort of prescription meds, like Zoloft or Prozac along with other stuffs that will re-uptake my inhibitors and all that jazz, whatever that means. But I refuse to do that dance, hence the herbal supplements. Therapist said I should try SOMETHING what with all the trouble I was getting myself into. But yeah, so I went without meds for sometime and as much as I argued against it, the void of such mind/mood altering chemicals did a massive number on me. And Snookms footed the bill this time. Cleaned up the mess. He wasn't resentful, and he still loves me. I hate myself for that shit, and if I had go back in time powers, trust me, that would be one of those things I would've gone backed to and changed. But I don't so here yet is another thing to add on my list of shit to come full circle with and deal head on.
Through my breakdown of broken glass and temporary fallen empires Snookms talked to me. Helped me to see the truth instead of hide from it. To embrace it proudly and not let others standards of what they did to feel their own measure of success taint my own feeling of a job well done. And the beautiful thing about this all is that Snookms doesn't talk shit about what one considers 'opposing forces'. He gets you to look at it from their perspective, and make you think about why they might possibly be feeling the way they do, and instead have compassion and understanding for a new way of looking at things. He doesn't verbally attack them or assault them. He just looks at it from their perpective.
Although we don't agree on everything, it's issues like this that keep us together through the disagreements of why I think the kids SHOULD go with me to the premieres of new Harry Potter flicks and all the arguable hogwash that he presents telling me why they SHOULDN'T go see it. It's hard to respect and sensibly stand on someone else's ground when you know half that fucking ground belongs to you and all you wanna do is punch a motherfucker in the face for not seeing things your way. But again, when shining moments of clarity come forth like North Stars in the night to lead your way, all you can do is agree to disagree on the petty shit and hold hands through the long haul.
Well I've gone far past my 21 minute mark, so I must go forth and receive the grace that is a free cheeseburger.
Monday, July 13, 2009
On Being Snookms
Sitting here watching Snookms fall into a hapless slumber, and I have to know if he has any idea how beautiful he is when he sleeps. That flawless look of infantile peace, that grabs at you, pulls your fuckin heart strings, and makes you think for a second of things not of this earth. Images of angels come to mind, like the kind you saw in that King James version of the bible when you were four. You thought you knew you saw one, it was no big shock, and always wondered what the hell the big deal was when everyone else saw one.
"What the fuck? I see em all the time?"
But when you're four years of age, you're not allowed to say the word fuck. You don't even know what the word means.
But you know what beauty is.
And when it's lying peacefully next to you, wearing your wedding ring, you have to sometimes get on your knees and remember those angels and tell them thank you for not getting angry that you knew what the word 'fuck' meant at the age of 4.
"What the fuck? I see em all the time?"
But when you're four years of age, you're not allowed to say the word fuck. You don't even know what the word means.
But you know what beauty is.
And when it's lying peacefully next to you, wearing your wedding ring, you have to sometimes get on your knees and remember those angels and tell them thank you for not getting angry that you knew what the word 'fuck' meant at the age of 4.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wanna buy my book???
It's out!!! It's FINALLY out!!
Go here if you would like to order yourself a copy. Or your dog, or grandma, or long lost cousin that you secretly want to make 3 eyed babies with. I have lots of those, so BEWARE!!!!
Be forewarned, you won't find this book on the shelves of Barnes & Noble or Borders or any other shelf for that matter. It's through Lulu.com, which is self pub, but hell, you know what? I don't have to follow any rules that way. And everybody knows how I feel about rules.....right? Hello? Anybody there?? Mom?
Also be forewarned that it is not for the 'light of heart'. I swear like a truck driver in many instances, so if that is not your bag, then you may want to stick to Meet Dick and Jane. But that within itself has questionable intentions. Dick has Muff?
But yes, again, if any of you who come here would like to buy a copy of my book, be so inclined to stop by. Every time you buy one you save a Warlock's life
Currently playing:
(NES) Ghosts "N Goblins
Go here if you would like to order yourself a copy. Or your dog, or grandma, or long lost cousin that you secretly want to make 3 eyed babies with. I have lots of those, so BEWARE!!!!
Be forewarned, you won't find this book on the shelves of Barnes & Noble or Borders or any other shelf for that matter. It's through Lulu.com, which is self pub, but hell, you know what? I don't have to follow any rules that way. And everybody knows how I feel about rules.....right? Hello? Anybody there?? Mom?
Also be forewarned that it is not for the 'light of heart'. I swear like a truck driver in many instances, so if that is not your bag, then you may want to stick to Meet Dick and Jane. But that within itself has questionable intentions. Dick has Muff?
But yes, again, if any of you who come here would like to buy a copy of my book, be so inclined to stop by. Every time you buy one you save a Warlock's life
Currently playing:
(NES) Ghosts "N Goblins
Ammonites for K!
Kind & awesome pal Karina (a fellow FoAN, 'Friend of Ask Nicola') has notified me that she received the necklaces I made for her and her sweetie. So I thought I'd be a show off and well, y'know, show them off. :)
The idea of 'Soestre' in Nicola's book 'Ammonite' is such a beautiful thing!
Made them out of cheap Crayola no-bake clay and used some rip off looking hemp for the chains. Wish I knew how to braid more elaborate stuff.
Making them was such a pleasure, getting the feel of what an Ammonite may or may not actually feel like, getting to know the possible 'mechanics' of it and what not. It made me want to read Ammonite again. I just wish I had letter stamps, cause the word 'Soestre' didn't come out as lovely as I wished it would have. Oh well, I can always chock it up to experience I s'pose. :)
The idea of 'Soestre' in Nicola's book 'Ammonite' is such a beautiful thing!
Made them out of cheap Crayola no-bake clay and used some rip off looking hemp for the chains. Wish I knew how to braid more elaborate stuff.
Making them was such a pleasure, getting the feel of what an Ammonite may or may not actually feel like, getting to know the possible 'mechanics' of it and what not. It made me want to read Ammonite again. I just wish I had letter stamps, cause the word 'Soestre' didn't come out as lovely as I wished it would have. Oh well, I can always chock it up to experience I s'pose. :)
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Man oh man!
I'm still kinda recovering from my anger last night!! I spent a good hour writing this long ass descriptive blog about all the awesome things that are happening in my life right now, and when I hit submit, the fucking internets had signed me out (I guess cause I had been taking so long?) and then it erased all my shit!! Just like that, really. Gone with the fucking wind!
But I'll get over it. I guess all I really wanted to say is THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY. For all your support and love and encouragement. If it wasn't for every last one of you all's kind words I would have done gave up by now.
Weeeeell. Saturday? No, wait. Sunday. Yeah, Sunday. I call my mom and dad to see what they wanted from the night before, they had called and I was asleep, so I was just returning their call.
Me: Hello? Mom? Did I wake you?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Oh. I'm sorry. I'll call you back later. I was returning your call from last night.
Mom: Hang on. *lots of shuffling, and a back and forth whispered conversation* You give it to her. NO I want YOU to. No, YOU!*
Me: Um hello?
Renegade Wizard: He-llo.
Me: Hey dad. What's going on?
Renegade Wizard: Not much. Just sitting around watching t.v.
Me: Oh. Well I was just calling you guys back from last night. David says you called.
Renegade Wizard: Yeah. Your mom and I are giving you her laptop as an early birthday present. She got a new one as an early birthday present, so this one is all ready to go for you.
Me: silence.....Are you serious?
Renegade Wizard: Yep. Come pick it up whenever you're ready.
So that's what I did. I was in a daze, cause I just couldn't fucking believe it was as simple as that. I've been waiting my whole life for a laptop, pretty much giving up on the idea that it was ever going to happen, and then one falls in my fucking lap.
I get to my mom and dad's house, and sure enough, my mom's got her new laptop, and mine is all set up and ready to go.
My dad gives me a walkthrough of how to set it up to a router once I get it home, and turns it on to show me all the bells and whistles he and my mom have taken the time to add. Like my own Skype account, a new email account on AOL, and my personalized picture and name when you sign on. For the screensaver there is 3-D multicolour bubbles floating all around. It's like heaven in plasma HD.
All this time, my heart feels like it's going to explode with terror. I am in this kind of a boat where there is doom waiting around every corner. Things are going beautifully in this moment and it's just too good to be true. I'm getting a laptop. It's free. It's customized. No one hates my guts. And there is a program on Spike t.v. playing in the backround of a guy fucking a cow's heart. All is right with the world.
And still though. The doom. It looms. It festers. It peeks it's crooked little nose around the corner, forboding as it is, telling me, "Just you wait you little cuntflap. This will all come crashing around you."
I stick my tongue out at it and eat my Fazolis. The Renegade Wizard has taken it upon himself to get me and the Warlock's Wife something to eat. He asks me, "You like lasagne? I'll bring you back some lasagne."
The Warlock's Wife, in a voice that only she can get away with using on said Renegade Wizard, insists, "And bring back some dessert!"
Oh boy. Now I'm REALLY gonna pay, the one that possesses the doom warns. Something terrible is going to happen for having so much delightful fun. And all in one day.
As the day progresses into night I am plagued by notions of Snookms insisting on a surprise divorce, or Neil Gaiman dying, or even my mom and dad saying they need the laptop back so they can give it to their long lost daughter that they just discovered was living under their stairs.
But nothing of the sort happens.
And then the next day.....
Mike's mom says she needs to talk to us. After Snookms gets off work. She NEVER asks us to come out there that late. And on a WORKNIGHT at that.
Fuck.
I ask Snookms if it's bad news. He says she said no. I have my doubts though.
On the way out there, I come to the conclusion that Mike's mom has cancer and is dying. She is having us come out there so she can tell us in person. That is all I come up with. I say prayers, ward away worries that are impossible to ward and next thing you know we're pulling up in Mike's mom's driveway.
There is a shiny red minivan in the driveway and the kids ask, "Who's van is that?"
"Oh. That's must be Michelle's". (Mike's mom and Ed's houseguest.)
We get in the house and Mike's mom says, "Well hello there!"
"Hi" I reply weakly.
"Well, do you have something to tell her?", she looks at Snookms.
"Huh. Oh. Yeah." Snookms gets this knowing look in his eyes and then smirks his sexy juicy Snookms smirk.
"Go outside and look at your new car!" Mike's mom yelps.
And so now, I just know I'm TOTALLY fucked. Right? Can you imagine the downfall of all this greatness?
Worst case scenario? No clue here. WhatsoEVER. But I'm going to ride it for all it's worth!
Til then...
Thank you everybody.
And.....
But I'll get over it. I guess all I really wanted to say is THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY. For all your support and love and encouragement. If it wasn't for every last one of you all's kind words I would have done gave up by now.
Weeeeell. Saturday? No, wait. Sunday. Yeah, Sunday. I call my mom and dad to see what they wanted from the night before, they had called and I was asleep, so I was just returning their call.
Me: Hello? Mom? Did I wake you?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Oh. I'm sorry. I'll call you back later. I was returning your call from last night.
Mom: Hang on. *lots of shuffling, and a back and forth whispered conversation* You give it to her. NO I want YOU to. No, YOU!*
Me: Um hello?
Renegade Wizard: He-llo.
Me: Hey dad. What's going on?
Renegade Wizard: Not much. Just sitting around watching t.v.
Me: Oh. Well I was just calling you guys back from last night. David says you called.
Renegade Wizard: Yeah. Your mom and I are giving you her laptop as an early birthday present. She got a new one as an early birthday present, so this one is all ready to go for you.
Me: silence.....Are you serious?
Renegade Wizard: Yep. Come pick it up whenever you're ready.
So that's what I did. I was in a daze, cause I just couldn't fucking believe it was as simple as that. I've been waiting my whole life for a laptop, pretty much giving up on the idea that it was ever going to happen, and then one falls in my fucking lap.
I get to my mom and dad's house, and sure enough, my mom's got her new laptop, and mine is all set up and ready to go.
My dad gives me a walkthrough of how to set it up to a router once I get it home, and turns it on to show me all the bells and whistles he and my mom have taken the time to add. Like my own Skype account, a new email account on AOL, and my personalized picture and name when you sign on. For the screensaver there is 3-D multicolour bubbles floating all around. It's like heaven in plasma HD.
All this time, my heart feels like it's going to explode with terror. I am in this kind of a boat where there is doom waiting around every corner. Things are going beautifully in this moment and it's just too good to be true. I'm getting a laptop. It's free. It's customized. No one hates my guts. And there is a program on Spike t.v. playing in the backround of a guy fucking a cow's heart. All is right with the world.
And still though. The doom. It looms. It festers. It peeks it's crooked little nose around the corner, forboding as it is, telling me, "Just you wait you little cuntflap. This will all come crashing around you."
I stick my tongue out at it and eat my Fazolis. The Renegade Wizard has taken it upon himself to get me and the Warlock's Wife something to eat. He asks me, "You like lasagne? I'll bring you back some lasagne."
The Warlock's Wife, in a voice that only she can get away with using on said Renegade Wizard, insists, "And bring back some dessert!"
Oh boy. Now I'm REALLY gonna pay, the one that possesses the doom warns. Something terrible is going to happen for having so much delightful fun. And all in one day.
As the day progresses into night I am plagued by notions of Snookms insisting on a surprise divorce, or Neil Gaiman dying, or even my mom and dad saying they need the laptop back so they can give it to their long lost daughter that they just discovered was living under their stairs.
But nothing of the sort happens.
And then the next day.....
Mike's mom says she needs to talk to us. After Snookms gets off work. She NEVER asks us to come out there that late. And on a WORKNIGHT at that.
Fuck.
I ask Snookms if it's bad news. He says she said no. I have my doubts though.
On the way out there, I come to the conclusion that Mike's mom has cancer and is dying. She is having us come out there so she can tell us in person. That is all I come up with. I say prayers, ward away worries that are impossible to ward and next thing you know we're pulling up in Mike's mom's driveway.
There is a shiny red minivan in the driveway and the kids ask, "Who's van is that?"
"Oh. That's must be Michelle's". (Mike's mom and Ed's houseguest.)
We get in the house and Mike's mom says, "Well hello there!"
"Hi" I reply weakly.
"Well, do you have something to tell her?", she looks at Snookms.
"Huh. Oh. Yeah." Snookms gets this knowing look in his eyes and then smirks his sexy juicy Snookms smirk.
"Go outside and look at your new car!" Mike's mom yelps.
And so now, I just know I'm TOTALLY fucked. Right? Can you imagine the downfall of all this greatness?
Worst case scenario? No clue here. WhatsoEVER. But I'm going to ride it for all it's worth!
Til then...
Thank you everybody.
And.....
Friday, June 26, 2009
Fer Serious
He was the fucking Man with the Plan.
He embraced his whole self with no shame. I can remember my mom busting out the record of him snuggling with some lions, and me and my brothers would break dance all our Smurf like little worries away for the day.
I hope he's in a place where he can boogie to his heart's content.
Fav Michael Jackson song of ALL TIME:
And THEN, of course:
(Lego style!)
He embraced his whole self with no shame. I can remember my mom busting out the record of him snuggling with some lions, and me and my brothers would break dance all our Smurf like little worries away for the day.
I hope he's in a place where he can boogie to his heart's content.
Fav Michael Jackson song of ALL TIME:
And THEN, of course:
(Lego style!)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
T'uh!
I don't know what it is, but lately the idea of journaling, blogging, whatever you shall call it, it has far less appeal to me than it ever has in my life.
I mean? I've been doing some kind of journaling since the first time I discovered masturbation? The two kind of go hand in hand for me?
But what is it about this summer that has stolen my heart away from my former passions? I don't play videogames nearly as much as I used to either. I really miss that shit. I'm not on the net....what the fuck am I doing then?
Spending time with the spawn. Watching Twin Peaks (which was OH SO FUCKING EPIC!) "Do you know who I am? I am the arm!" Fuck yes you are. Snookms impersonates that so well. I heart him for that for sure.
But seriously. That movie got me thinking about father fucking. I mean, does anybody here really know what it's like to be in love with your dad in that way and feel the doom of civilization thinking you are wrong? Ugh. I've got a motherfucker recovering in my bedroom right now. He's like, The One that Doom Possesses & shit!
I know my posts have been pretty fucking off and erratic. But it's what's in this noggin o' mine 24-7.
I finished (like REALLY finished this time) editing my book. It's about set to be print ready on Lulu. I'm stalling for a bunch of time I don't have. I'm on borrowed time right now, and that too is running out. I need to just do things already!
Well we are supposed to go see the new Transformers tonight. I forgot all about that and had made plans to run away and go get married to Mysty, but now I can't. Kind of bummed about that, but watching movies with Snookms & Co. is pretty fun too, no?
Just finished re-reading Craig Thompson's Blankets last night. Sat outside amidst the the electric air while Snookms cleaned his truck out & seriously wept over some parts of the book. Craig Thompson draws little boy dicks with EXQUISITE detail. Anybody should read Blankets.
So like I was in the shower last night, washing the many layers of dirt out of all the crevices of my strange body & started speculating.
Neil Gaiman.
Amanda Palmer.
They are an item. That is a pretty much a Dream Team of Spectucular right there. I like to fantasize about what they do & how they do it & what they are wearing, how they smell & what they're eating and such. I just thought it would be cool to attempt a fabricated novel of their relationship, except like change the names to Neil Palmer and Amanda Gaiman? I dunno. They could make Fey babies and Druids and Warlocks and call them all Neil and Amanda. Or something.
I just feel like blessed Maxon Crumb here lately. In the movie Crumb? Y'know, like when he was drawing all those comix as a boy & then they showed his slow but deliberate ascent into madness where nothing he did made any sense to anyONE, but perhaps himself? I felt such longing and adoration in that reveal. I want those fucking drawings.
There's just so much longing here folks. For things not of this realm. There's a small handful of you that get that in this universe. But frankly it's just not enough to feel Safe anymore.
What is Safe though? I've never ever really been That.
I mean? I've been doing some kind of journaling since the first time I discovered masturbation? The two kind of go hand in hand for me?
But what is it about this summer that has stolen my heart away from my former passions? I don't play videogames nearly as much as I used to either. I really miss that shit. I'm not on the net....what the fuck am I doing then?
Spending time with the spawn. Watching Twin Peaks (which was OH SO FUCKING EPIC!) "Do you know who I am? I am the arm!" Fuck yes you are. Snookms impersonates that so well. I heart him for that for sure.
But seriously. That movie got me thinking about father fucking. I mean, does anybody here really know what it's like to be in love with your dad in that way and feel the doom of civilization thinking you are wrong? Ugh. I've got a motherfucker recovering in my bedroom right now. He's like, The One that Doom Possesses & shit!
I know my posts have been pretty fucking off and erratic. But it's what's in this noggin o' mine 24-7.
I finished (like REALLY finished this time) editing my book. It's about set to be print ready on Lulu. I'm stalling for a bunch of time I don't have. I'm on borrowed time right now, and that too is running out. I need to just do things already!
Well we are supposed to go see the new Transformers tonight. I forgot all about that and had made plans to run away and go get married to Mysty, but now I can't. Kind of bummed about that, but watching movies with Snookms & Co. is pretty fun too, no?
Just finished re-reading Craig Thompson's Blankets last night. Sat outside amidst the the electric air while Snookms cleaned his truck out & seriously wept over some parts of the book. Craig Thompson draws little boy dicks with EXQUISITE detail. Anybody should read Blankets.
So like I was in the shower last night, washing the many layers of dirt out of all the crevices of my strange body & started speculating.
Neil Gaiman.
Amanda Palmer.
They are an item. That is a pretty much a Dream Team of Spectucular right there. I like to fantasize about what they do & how they do it & what they are wearing, how they smell & what they're eating and such. I just thought it would be cool to attempt a fabricated novel of their relationship, except like change the names to Neil Palmer and Amanda Gaiman? I dunno. They could make Fey babies and Druids and Warlocks and call them all Neil and Amanda. Or something.
I just feel like blessed Maxon Crumb here lately. In the movie Crumb? Y'know, like when he was drawing all those comix as a boy & then they showed his slow but deliberate ascent into madness where nothing he did made any sense to anyONE, but perhaps himself? I felt such longing and adoration in that reveal. I want those fucking drawings.
There's just so much longing here folks. For things not of this realm. There's a small handful of you that get that in this universe. But frankly it's just not enough to feel Safe anymore.
What is Safe though? I've never ever really been That.
Friday, June 12, 2009
MakeDamnSure
I LOVE Adam Lazzara in this video. I never cared about Taking Back Sunday until I saw this.
I love how he makes love to the camera! S'very sexy!!!
Today is a kind of grumpy day for me. I am very lion like and IMPATIENT with any who dare request things of me. Not good for a homemaker at all!
My spawn remind me of the Golden Girls right now. HELLA SNARKY and arguing about everything and anything.
Well Drag Me to Hell was abyssmally wonderous. I am telling you Sam Raimi/Evil Dead fans, go see it! It's RAD. Loved the Slapstick Gore and Demon Lore. P'shaw!
Was watching special features for The Fountain and thanking my lucky stars that Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett DID NOT stay the roles that Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weiss replaced. That would've been INFERNAL. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was enough!
Hoping to charm the Snookms into going to the Drive-In tonight. My fluttery wings and striped pajama pantalones just might do the trick. I miss Clermont Drive-In severely. Alien Glow Pops straight from Roswell, New Mexico & infinite tubs of buttery popcorn made all ambrosia-like and what not. Okay so now I wanna play Battle of Olympus. Minotaurs! Labyrinths! Here I come.
Oh. And I just thought this was pretty amazing. Something Gyn would be wielding, yah? Wakkawakkawakka.
I love how he makes love to the camera! S'very sexy!!!
Today is a kind of grumpy day for me. I am very lion like and IMPATIENT with any who dare request things of me. Not good for a homemaker at all!
My spawn remind me of the Golden Girls right now. HELLA SNARKY and arguing about everything and anything.
Well Drag Me to Hell was abyssmally wonderous. I am telling you Sam Raimi/Evil Dead fans, go see it! It's RAD. Loved the Slapstick Gore and Demon Lore. P'shaw!
Was watching special features for The Fountain and thanking my lucky stars that Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett DID NOT stay the roles that Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weiss replaced. That would've been INFERNAL. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was enough!
Hoping to charm the Snookms into going to the Drive-In tonight. My fluttery wings and striped pajama pantalones just might do the trick. I miss Clermont Drive-In severely. Alien Glow Pops straight from Roswell, New Mexico & infinite tubs of buttery popcorn made all ambrosia-like and what not. Okay so now I wanna play Battle of Olympus. Minotaurs! Labyrinths! Here I come.
Oh. And I just thought this was pretty amazing. Something Gyn would be wielding, yah? Wakkawakkawakka.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Death is the Road to Awe
Ahhhh....here it is.
Freetime. And I don't know what to do with it!
Kathulhu is going to see Wicked with her momma and I am HELLA jealous. Mysty is now on Twitter which gives me joy abounding. SexScenes has a BADASS piece up in Thuglit. And I finished reading Mordicai's book.
First I will address the Katie matters.....
Snookms, spawn & Co. made it out to her abode some Saturdays ago for her Berfday. I finally got to meet the illustrious Robbie (one of Katie's best friends) in person. He was just as charming and gorgeous as I had fabricated him to be in my own midnight imaginings. My daughter also has a HUGE 9 year old hard on for Kathulhu's hubby, which is just fucking funny as all get out. And then Katie wore her pretty dress in which I got to peep at her awesome rack. Yo diggity. She had a My Little Pony ice cream cake which was adorable and I guess one of her pals got her a My Little Pony action figure. Woot dolla!
And Mysty on Twitter. I dunno why this makes me all starry inside. Probably because she asked if I wanted to sneak off with her and go get secretly married. I can't wait to go see Drag Me To Hell with her tomarrow.
Ummm, let's see. Oh! Yeah. Betsy. Sexy Betsy. Was able to read her short in ThugLit titled "Living on the Blood of Others". Some of the most powerful character reading I've had the pleasure of my eyes gracing in a long time. By the time I was done reading I was pissed that it wasn't a full length novel. Fell in love with the MC right away. Loved the narrative. Every inch of it. So revealing. Unapologetic like too. I fucking LOVE no apologies. & she needs to hurry up & tell me what she thought of Donnie Darko already!
And then of course ol' Mordicai. Ordered his book on Lulu last week and received it Friday? I think? Maybe Thursday? I dunno. But yeah. This book is a real gem. He keeps saying that he needs to go back and edit some shit, but I say it's all good. Hansel is coming to get you! AND his adorable Wil o' Wisp. Having the heart of Nosferatu makes you one bad motherfucker. I love the way Mordicai used his creativity for the Wil o' Wisp's communication. I've not ever seen anything done like that before and I absolutely ADORED it. Very fucking innovative. A must read for anybody who loves RPG, DnD, Automata, or the Fey. Those all kinda get tossed in the same category somehow though, so perhaps that doesn't help? Someone like Kathulhu would love this book. Yeah. Someone like her. And me. I want to pass this book around like a great girlfriend that gives awesome face and then turns into a pumpkin @ midnight. For real. That good!
Let's see....what else?
Oh. Lots more internal dialogue going on in therapy these days. All my appts. have been set as phone appts. due to the spawn and their lack of schooling. But they have been just as effective for me as if I were to show up face 2 face. Again, I find it AMAZING that Motherine is the one walking me through, holding my hand in this land of Mysoginistic behaviours; where little 9 year olds indulge in shooting their private parts off so that they don't have to feel anymore. There's this part in Mordicai's book, Wil o' Wisps & Other Illuminated Manuscripts? & It is unintentional, I'm sure, but again there is this part, where Hansel's being torn to the core by ol' Nosferatu, and because he is automata, has been programmed to go inside a more primal core within himself, for survival & shit, y'know? It's like, all this crazy shit is going on in the out & about, but within is a nesting sort of mechanism, that keeps safe until you are no longer put in harm's way. I felt complete sympathy for Hansel in that moment, whether sympathy should have been intended or naught.
I've been getting the manic spurts lately, going off and mowing the lawn @ 10:00 @ night & stuff. It's so fun though when the air is electric @ midnight even. You feel as though you are defying some law of physical nature and that there should be toxic mushrooms glowing in the dark next to you, illumating your path to a Netherworld you shant soon come back from. Renegade Wizards @ your every, & Warlock's Wives that aren't afraid of Foxglove.
Okay, okay, so perhaps these are all things that should be saved for my own personal account. I dunno. Sometimes it just feels so good to spiritually bleed here & there. Sorry 'bout that folks!
Looking forward to the new Transformers flick as well as G.I. Joe. I wonder if I'll be all 'WTF' afterward? Thinking about popping in The Fountain (only thee best. movie. EVAR. C'mon now? DEATH IS THE ROAD TO AWE...) late night tonight and working on my new character Surreal that I've fabricated. I actuallly dreamt of him early in the morning and had enough Luck Points left on my talisman to have R.E.M. so's I could still remember him when I awoke. He's got flaming red hair. Short, cropped & curly. Loves to listen to Scissor Sisters and owns a 500 Magnum. (Yes. They do exist. I was witness to a real live one just a few months ago. Holy SHIT is all I had to say!) Surreal treats it like a shotgun though. Surreal is also a fucking asshole pervert too. No love for this one. Most of my perverted fabrications have some sort of sympathetic perspective. But not this one. Oh no. This one Mysogyny gets all postal on. With NO remorse. Drags him through the streets of SSF with an umbilical chord birthed in steele chain & retribution; with a capital R, this one.
Well now, after all is said & done, my she-spawn is requesting that I hook up the PS2 in the living room so we can play Castlevania Symphony of the Night. Hurrah for Duplicators & the Power of Sire. Makes life so much easier!!!
Freetime. And I don't know what to do with it!
Kathulhu is going to see Wicked with her momma and I am HELLA jealous. Mysty is now on Twitter which gives me joy abounding. SexScenes has a BADASS piece up in Thuglit. And I finished reading Mordicai's book.
First I will address the Katie matters.....
Snookms, spawn & Co. made it out to her abode some Saturdays ago for her Berfday. I finally got to meet the illustrious Robbie (one of Katie's best friends) in person. He was just as charming and gorgeous as I had fabricated him to be in my own midnight imaginings. My daughter also has a HUGE 9 year old hard on for Kathulhu's hubby, which is just fucking funny as all get out. And then Katie wore her pretty dress in which I got to peep at her awesome rack. Yo diggity. She had a My Little Pony ice cream cake which was adorable and I guess one of her pals got her a My Little Pony action figure. Woot dolla!
And Mysty on Twitter. I dunno why this makes me all starry inside. Probably because she asked if I wanted to sneak off with her and go get secretly married. I can't wait to go see Drag Me To Hell with her tomarrow.
Ummm, let's see. Oh! Yeah. Betsy. Sexy Betsy. Was able to read her short in ThugLit titled "Living on the Blood of Others". Some of the most powerful character reading I've had the pleasure of my eyes gracing in a long time. By the time I was done reading I was pissed that it wasn't a full length novel. Fell in love with the MC right away. Loved the narrative. Every inch of it. So revealing. Unapologetic like too. I fucking LOVE no apologies. & she needs to hurry up & tell me what she thought of Donnie Darko already!
And then of course ol' Mordicai. Ordered his book on Lulu last week and received it Friday? I think? Maybe Thursday? I dunno. But yeah. This book is a real gem. He keeps saying that he needs to go back and edit some shit, but I say it's all good. Hansel is coming to get you! AND his adorable Wil o' Wisp. Having the heart of Nosferatu makes you one bad motherfucker. I love the way Mordicai used his creativity for the Wil o' Wisp's communication. I've not ever seen anything done like that before and I absolutely ADORED it. Very fucking innovative. A must read for anybody who loves RPG, DnD, Automata, or the Fey. Those all kinda get tossed in the same category somehow though, so perhaps that doesn't help? Someone like Kathulhu would love this book. Yeah. Someone like her. And me. I want to pass this book around like a great girlfriend that gives awesome face and then turns into a pumpkin @ midnight. For real. That good!
Let's see....what else?
Oh. Lots more internal dialogue going on in therapy these days. All my appts. have been set as phone appts. due to the spawn and their lack of schooling. But they have been just as effective for me as if I were to show up face 2 face. Again, I find it AMAZING that Motherine is the one walking me through, holding my hand in this land of Mysoginistic behaviours; where little 9 year olds indulge in shooting their private parts off so that they don't have to feel anymore. There's this part in Mordicai's book, Wil o' Wisps & Other Illuminated Manuscripts? & It is unintentional, I'm sure, but again there is this part, where Hansel's being torn to the core by ol' Nosferatu, and because he is automata, has been programmed to go inside a more primal core within himself, for survival & shit, y'know? It's like, all this crazy shit is going on in the out & about, but within is a nesting sort of mechanism, that keeps safe until you are no longer put in harm's way. I felt complete sympathy for Hansel in that moment, whether sympathy should have been intended or naught.
I've been getting the manic spurts lately, going off and mowing the lawn @ 10:00 @ night & stuff. It's so fun though when the air is electric @ midnight even. You feel as though you are defying some law of physical nature and that there should be toxic mushrooms glowing in the dark next to you, illumating your path to a Netherworld you shant soon come back from. Renegade Wizards @ your every, & Warlock's Wives that aren't afraid of Foxglove.
Okay, okay, so perhaps these are all things that should be saved for my own personal account. I dunno. Sometimes it just feels so good to spiritually bleed here & there. Sorry 'bout that folks!
Looking forward to the new Transformers flick as well as G.I. Joe. I wonder if I'll be all 'WTF' afterward? Thinking about popping in The Fountain (only thee best. movie. EVAR. C'mon now? DEATH IS THE ROAD TO AWE...) late night tonight and working on my new character Surreal that I've fabricated. I actuallly dreamt of him early in the morning and had enough Luck Points left on my talisman to have R.E.M. so's I could still remember him when I awoke. He's got flaming red hair. Short, cropped & curly. Loves to listen to Scissor Sisters and owns a 500 Magnum. (Yes. They do exist. I was witness to a real live one just a few months ago. Holy SHIT is all I had to say!) Surreal treats it like a shotgun though. Surreal is also a fucking asshole pervert too. No love for this one. Most of my perverted fabrications have some sort of sympathetic perspective. But not this one. Oh no. This one Mysogyny gets all postal on. With NO remorse. Drags him through the streets of SSF with an umbilical chord birthed in steele chain & retribution; with a capital R, this one.
Well now, after all is said & done, my she-spawn is requesting that I hook up the PS2 in the living room so we can play Castlevania Symphony of the Night. Hurrah for Duplicators & the Power of Sire. Makes life so much easier!!!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Summertime!
Bah! Summer is such a busy time! And it is not even technically summer yet...
A nephew called yesterday, late afternoon, asking if all 3 of our spawn could spend the night. Judging by the hooting and hollering and jumping I'd say they were all pretty excited about it? So Snookms and I got em all packed up and shipped out. We managed to have a whole night to OURSELVES.
What did we do all night you ask?
What any spawnless couple would do of courseness.
We sat and watched the newest ep. of Burn Notice (which was pretty engaging) and then watched the new show Royal Pain?/s? Ya know....the do-good doctor one? I really liked it.
Then we had late night interface.
I awoke this afternoon to the discomfort of one of the most WILDEST of dreams, which pissed me off because in wake mode I would've NEV3R been upset about it. And it also pisses me off that I'm having dreams about this certain person. It involved him. Perhaps cause I'm reading a book of his right now and really enjoying it? The dream also involved Let-Dawg. And me. And her wearing my Bloody French Maid outfit. & Me again, getting angry about the pictures that were taken of her in said costume. And then me getting mad @ myself when I awoke for getting jealous? Arrrrrrrgh! *scratches head profusely*
Enough nonsense! Snookms is talking of going to the Air Show this weekend. It's been really cool to see jets flying around in the sky to practice for it. I keep awaiting some Black Jet of Death and Destruction to fly by and obliterate humankind in one fell swoop, but to no avail.
I really want to see The Hangover. I am on this kind of boat that sails in the direction of Zach Galifianakis all Windwaker style and what not. Don't even have to play the Ballad of Gales either!
Oh,& I finally have pictures put up of our fun fun fun camping trip too!
Here Snookms waits patiently while our cabin is being put in order:
Here Janna (my step-mother-in-law?) is pimping some of her hoes back home:
Gorgeous Bleeding Hearts!
Snookms and his old man. I keep telling Janna that they could switch sex partners on us and we wouldn't even know the difference.
Here we have Janna again, getting ready to pimpslap me for being a paparazzi:
The look I have grown much accustomed to from my 9 year old wannabe teen:
Tha Jr. stole muh frakkin Windwaker shirk. I kid you not! No skull necklaces for YOU sir.
I do love the spores. I kept thinking "FINCH!" "FINCH!"
A cool ass cabin!
Me trying to look all clever and Alucard like:
The Fezziwig says, "Peace". And "C-L-O-V-E-R-F-I-E-L-D".
This is the playground that is just a stone's throw away from everything, including the 80's like arcade/storefront, which is that building you see in the backround!
This is what my real smile looks like. Only a small handful have the power to brandish from me.
I was being a dope and taking pictures of the cool ass bathroom @ the arcade/storefront. It was a KrustyKrab Paradise!
Here is the 80's like arcade, complete with wood paneling and Ms. Pacman. Made a late night venture here only to have my ass handed to me on the red banana level. RED BANANA! You're IT bitch!
The honey resin lighting only added to that 80's arcade allure:
And alas, the campfire....
All in all it was a lovely trip. We want to go back when it's hotter than HOT! so we can swim in the lake and snorkel for Jellyfish (yeah, that's whaaat I said! But it's true, they're in the lake!) and beat the Red Banana level on Ms. Pacman. What more could a Smurf smurf for?
A nephew called yesterday, late afternoon, asking if all 3 of our spawn could spend the night. Judging by the hooting and hollering and jumping I'd say they were all pretty excited about it? So Snookms and I got em all packed up and shipped out. We managed to have a whole night to OURSELVES.
What did we do all night you ask?
What any spawnless couple would do of courseness.
We sat and watched the newest ep. of Burn Notice (which was pretty engaging) and then watched the new show Royal Pain?/s? Ya know....the do-good doctor one? I really liked it.
Then we had late night interface.
I awoke this afternoon to the discomfort of one of the most WILDEST of dreams, which pissed me off because in wake mode I would've NEV3R been upset about it. And it also pisses me off that I'm having dreams about this certain person. It involved him. Perhaps cause I'm reading a book of his right now and really enjoying it? The dream also involved Let-Dawg. And me. And her wearing my Bloody French Maid outfit. & Me again, getting angry about the pictures that were taken of her in said costume. And then me getting mad @ myself when I awoke for getting jealous? Arrrrrrrgh! *scratches head profusely*
Enough nonsense! Snookms is talking of going to the Air Show this weekend. It's been really cool to see jets flying around in the sky to practice for it. I keep awaiting some Black Jet of Death and Destruction to fly by and obliterate humankind in one fell swoop, but to no avail.
I really want to see The Hangover. I am on this kind of boat that sails in the direction of Zach Galifianakis all Windwaker style and what not. Don't even have to play the Ballad of Gales either!
Oh,& I finally have pictures put up of our fun fun fun camping trip too!
Here Snookms waits patiently while our cabin is being put in order:
Here Janna (my step-mother-in-law?) is pimping some of her hoes back home:
Gorgeous Bleeding Hearts!
Snookms and his old man. I keep telling Janna that they could switch sex partners on us and we wouldn't even know the difference.
Here we have Janna again, getting ready to pimpslap me for being a paparazzi:
The look I have grown much accustomed to from my 9 year old wannabe teen:
Tha Jr. stole muh frakkin Windwaker shirk. I kid you not! No skull necklaces for YOU sir.
I do love the spores. I kept thinking "FINCH!" "FINCH!"
A cool ass cabin!
Me trying to look all clever and Alucard like:
The Fezziwig says, "Peace". And "C-L-O-V-E-R-F-I-E-L-D".
This is the playground that is just a stone's throw away from everything, including the 80's like arcade/storefront, which is that building you see in the backround!
This is what my real smile looks like. Only a small handful have the power to brandish from me.
I was being a dope and taking pictures of the cool ass bathroom @ the arcade/storefront. It was a KrustyKrab Paradise!
Here is the 80's like arcade, complete with wood paneling and Ms. Pacman. Made a late night venture here only to have my ass handed to me on the red banana level. RED BANANA! You're IT bitch!
The honey resin lighting only added to that 80's arcade allure:
And alas, the campfire....
All in all it was a lovely trip. We want to go back when it's hotter than HOT! so we can swim in the lake and snorkel for Jellyfish (yeah, that's whaaat I said! But it's true, they're in the lake!) and beat the Red Banana level on Ms. Pacman. What more could a Smurf smurf for?
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