When my father told me that there was no such thing as “the one” I was heart broken. Being of the Disney princess generation it was akin to telling a 3 year old the truth about Santa…by a bully. Yeah there’s a whole other story there, but that’s not this one. The point of this post is that, while he wasn’t exactly wrong, he’s also not right.
Every day we make connections, unless of course you lock yourself in your house and completely ignore social media. (I am only guilty of one of those things.) Sometimes we make hundreds of connections in one day. Over a year we make thousands whether we know it or not. Most of those connections will be dropped calls. Some will become friends and acquaintances. A few will set your soul on fire, and they will become forever lit beacons in your life.
And then there will be one.
It won’t be the one because it’s the only one. I’m sure there’s more than a few (maybe hundred or thousand) that will be capable. They will set all the appropriate pieces of your being on fire (soul, loins, something I haven’t thought of). They will be available to do it again and again. All the parts will fit. (Forgive the innuendo, though entirely meant). The one definitely exists.
Suck it bullies.
I turn forty in June. Science has yet to develop a way I might miss this deadline. Well…I could die. Let’s hope not. This is also not the deadline you were looking for (cue Jedi hands).
Forty got me thinking about all those things left I might regret on my death bed: A trip across the pond (the big one…either one…I’m leaning towards Atlantic) and publishing a book.
That’s kind of a short list. Does this mean something?
Anyway, with that in mind I set about making yet another deadline for myself: Finish editing by April 30th. If I do that I can hand it over to an editor and be prepared to publish in June. This time I didn’t tell anyone. Why torture myself more? I’m not as masochistic as I used to be…or maybe I am. It could have been a strange twisted need….psychological introspection.
The point of this post is its April 20th and I’m done. So…no more setting deadlines in public. I contacted an editor. I submitted my manuscript to a publishing company that requested it a while back. This is all pretty much a done deal.
I keep vacillating between “meh, whatever” and “OHMYFUCKINGGODDESSWHATAMIDOING?!” (because anxiety).
If Entangled refuses it (pretty certain they will) I will self publish in July. Why waste however much time on rejection from publishers when I can get it from the whole world all at once. ::grin:: So brace yourselves:
How do I know I love you? You scare me. I could tell you it’s because I would die for you, which I would, but dying‘s easy. If I were dead I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore, and, quite frankly, that doesn’t seem so bad. The reason you scare me is because you make me want to deal with the shit so, maybe, I’ll actually live here, not just exist here. I don’t know if you’ve got demons like mine, but they can be a bitch. So you scare me because you make me want to face my demons so maybe I won’t lose you in their masochistic self destructive frivolity…and that’s real.
Starset is awesome and I want to marry Dustin Bates.
Maybe a little. I do think he’s pretty cool, but this is just about me really.
It was 2 AM on a Saturday morning when my Facebook notified me that Starset had an event in Houston that fucking night. Fuck it (this is how much of my life goes), I got up at 10 AM and bought tickets for my daughter and I. I love this band (Starset Society, ties to tech, all the work that goes into their website) and have since I discovered them back in 2015, but I haven’t listened to them as much recently. Life has been about work, and hurdles, and cancer (someone else’s), and heart break, and…you know…life. I’ve left my writing behind. (Fuck I completed my first book in 2012 and did NOTHING with it…ugh). I’ve left a lot of me behind thinking I was doing better.
Hearing “Carnivore” reminded me I was letting this shit I really don’t like get the best of me. Putting “Transmissions” on and hearing “Dark on Me” reminded me of curling up next to the computer with my earbuds in and the music to loud just trying to drown it all out. I’m an emotional person. I may be good at deferring to logic, but that is not who I am.
I let myself believe that, while my Facebook friends are super supportive of my occasional desire to get published, the fact that they don’t read my stories and ask for more means I’m really not that good. (NOTHING against them…I want honesty above all else.) There are also little to no “likes” on the Starset stuff I post, and I know they are awesome, so maybe this is just the wrong crowd.
He makes a living doing something he loves…I think. I don’t know him. It’s inspiring, regardless, because it’s what I continue to try and fail to do.
But I am trying. Eventually I’m going to run out of excuses.
I got the kind of news on thanksgiving day that you keep thinking you’re going to wake up to find it was just a bad dream. Mostly. I knew the possibility of it all. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but when it happens to someone you love very dearly, someone who affects so much of your life, it’s hard to get out of that denial.
Now it colors every aspect of my thoughts and I’m not sure what to write about.
If this was just a diary I would write any drivel that seeps across my addled brain. I’m kind of glad I have an audience…however small. It discourages me from wallowing in my own self pity. It still makes interesting topics difficult however.
So the answer is…write. That’s always the answer. No matter what. Write.
Growing up I remember my father telling me that a woman who has gotten naked with a man cannot be raped. If she’s gone that far with him than she’s obligated to go “all the way”. on the surface I’d say he was a madman, but I think there is an undercurrent of adherence to this belief in this world. I don’t think its openly there, but some part of most people kind of thinks this. I could be just twisted though.
Getting into BDSM one of the first things I was taught is if someone says “red” or calls out an obvious safe word the scene stops. There doesn’t have to be a reason, it doesn’t matter whats going on, and it doesn’t matter who says it everything stops and the person who stopped the scene is cared for. It was this precept that was constantly reiterated that made me comfortable enough to start exploring myself. I was finally ok with the idea that if something made me uncomfortable, no matter what I was doing, I could stop and I wouldn’t be a bad person. Some people are even into that. It’s called ‘tease and denial’ and if I’m a top in anything it would be that. Ha ha! I love being a tease. I don’t like hurting people though so I would only do it to someone who enjoyed that.
Having someone I trust unconditionally has also helped me come out of my shell. I’m a lucky girl.
Have a happy Thanksgiving and I hope you have a lot to be thankful for.
Tonight is…moonshine and Diablo 3.
I have this idea. A girl, about 13, sits down on a park bench to start drawing. She looks to her right and finds a tiny notebook. Being a kid more curious than wary she picks it up. Inside is a strange series of scratches in a multitude of colors of dipped ink. To almost anyone in the world it would only be random doodles, but to this special little girl it’s a map to an extraordinary place.
In another world, closer to this one than you think, a little gray kitty with orange eyes named Elet ransacks her room glimmering in candlelight searching for something she lost. It is something of unbelievable importance. She reassures herself that it’s fine. It’s here and if it’s not then it’s somewhere no one can read it. Little does she know her mistake is about to make two worlds collide.
I’m basing the characters off my daughter and my cats. My daughter will love it. Not sure if it will go anywhere. The ideas are still very much in their infant stage. I can only say this about this new idea:
And now for something completely different!
But hey, maybe that’s what I need…something different. Life keeps feeling like dead ends lately. I changed my dating pool – ten plus years younger to almost 30 years older – and it worked. Maybe getting away from more adult lean in my writing will finally help me find my muse? Who knows? I’ll just have to wait and see.
A few years ago I was pretty sure I was dying. How sure? When 911 came to my office no one blinked an eye. It wasn’t for me, but everyone else was as sure as I was apparently. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Part of that was my fault. I’m not the regular check up kind. A friend of my mine was a recently diagnosed celiac and urged me to take gluten out of my diet. What the hell? I did it and I got better. Decided to stop paying the docs to torture me and cut gluten out of my diet. Should I go back and really find out what happened? Eh…I feel better.
So whats the silver lining? I’ve gained a few pounds over the last few weeks for various reasons. The main reason is I eat more when I’m happy. I don’t want to go back to what I was, I’ve found that if I don’t eat after 6 I lose weight pretty fast. So I fixed an all gluten meal for my kid. Can’t eat it. I was forced to eat the salad which was pretty good. So…silver linings.
My marriage disintegrated after I ended up in a hot tub with two men, neither of which were my husband. Makes me look pretty bad huh? Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember shit from that night. I will tell you my husband was there the whole time and even brought me the alcohol. So…fill in your own blanks.
Truth is my marriage ended ages before I just didn’t want to make my child a statistic. I fail at faking emotions though and….it just didn’t work. So now all sorts of things I never thought would happen are happening. It’s not all roses, but its definitely the fire and brimstone I thought would follow me by breaking my oath to stay with him forever.
So tomorrow I’m introducing my soon to be teenager to my 68 year old boyfriend. Oh dear goddess what am I doing? Am I weird? The answer is a resounding YES. I can also honestly say I am happy. I think it’s going to be OK, but it is definitely something I never in a million years thought would happen. My parents are still married…as far as I know. I have no clue what it’s like introducing your kid to a new guy. Especially in our situation. Good things about the age difference? He’s not going to want be a father figure. I don’t have to worry about that. She needs to be respectful, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.
A part of me has been dreading this, but I’m kind of looking forward to it now. I get to put my two favorite people in the same place. And the weird? Well that’s just par for the course.
“To trudge: the slow, weary depressing yet determine walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.”
That’s me…tonight….with this stupid writing project.
“There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” -Hemmingway
That’s all wrong. First…Hemingway did not say it (that I can actually find….someone named Red Smith might have) and second…no…no…it’s not fucking easy at all. Some days I look at the white space with its flashing cursor and the damn story or poem is actually written for me. Other (most) days I look at that same space and the little blinking line just sits there mocking me like the smug little shit it is. I could decide to write 365 days a year on how I love to write but I can’t, and then suddenly I would be able to write about that either.
The problem with the opening a vein routine, for me at least, is that I don’t want to fucking hear about it. It’s all daddy issues and fuck my childhood bullshit. And if I don’t want to hear about it than you certainly don’t want to hear about it. Well…you might want to hear about my daddy issues. Not the ones that happened when I was kid…no fuck that. I mean the aftermath. I’m dating a guy 30 years my senior who fucking rocks my world. Not sure if this is daddy issues or just a girl…standing in front of guy….waiting for him to beat her in the fun way because he’s fucking amazing at it. Heh heh.
Ok…I wrote. Fuck all this shit. Diablo 3. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have a little more to write about.