And Now, For Something Completely Different:

glitter-graphics.com

An awesome place I've visited:

Stockholm, Sweden

My perfect Sunday:

A good lunch and a walk

The movie I've watched the most times:

West Side Story, perhaps? (I had a crush on Tony.) 

My life history in 5 sentences or fewer:

There's been: some craziness, a lot of joy, and a lot of food! A diagnosis of celiac disease didn't destroy my tastebuds or love of trying something new. (Hey, I tried.)

My first concert / My dream concert:

Korn, 1999. I still want to see Jars of Clay.

Obscure knowledge I possess:

I've gotten to be absolutely spectacular at memorizing and spouting off obscure food additives. It's not really funny...except when I suddenly ask in utter seriousness "So, does that contain hydrolyzed maltodextrin?" (Name made up to save time.)

I have a weakness for people who:
don't think they have to be superior to everyone else, and can "just be". I also like a deep, deep voice (generally, in a man, but I've met a few lovely female baritones. But it's nice to feel a voice and have it be instantly understandable!)

For me, a huge no-no is:
1)Not being able to communicate because we're in a place where everything has to be shouted 2)Really ridiculous and obvious lying 3)Seeming shifty. 

What I would bring to show and tell:

The best cookies in the world. Or my special, "Brownie Surprise". No... it's not that kind of surprise, but they do have a little kick! (A bare amount of cayenne pepper, think slightly less than a pinch of food for a goldfish.)

I secretly want to be:

a fairy godmother, so I can finally help those good people in my life who've had it tough. "Bam! Money!"... But, I know, I'd probably manage to fly into and get stuck in a tree top! With the frilly undies that I'd suspect are par for the gig on full display.

Something tells me I'd end up like this.

An infatuation of mine:

Being able to go a-wandering, whenever I like.

If I won the lottery and quit my job, I would:

be boring and invest at least half of the money after taxes. With the rest, I'd travel and buy a house in a random, and out of the way part of Nantucket.

Game of Thrones

Even sweet Nellie, when not manipulating others, got her hands dirty at times. But...it's uncanny!

I once again gave into a pop-culture phenom... namely, Game of Thrones...which isn't too bad (I'm sort of in love with the clockwork model-buildings in the title sequence. I tend to notice and get stuck on small details.) I was wondering about all the "trigger" warnings I'd seen... while the boy-king having a prostitute beat another was tough, I was triggered more watching the Tudors and watching a guy get his teeth ripped out as part of his torture (I had to stop the DVR at that point.) I'm wondering if, because I'm catching the episodes for free off the net, if I'm getting censored versions. Or, if it's just because when I look at Joffrey, I tend to imagine him in a prairie bonnet, and BAM! it's Nellie Olsen! (No, really... it's weird.)
I'll be playing catch-up again.
Please, no spoilers, I've watched both seasons up until the upcoming episode...which I think I still partially-watched and may have missed things (I do rewind a lot when I watch anything...I'll have a wait...what?! moment.) If I could find a free version with closed captioning (No HBO at my house.) I may find things I missed.
Being able to see without, essentially, squinting and putting my nose too close to the subject matter is pretty cool though.
And now you have it. I went on a foray into the land of copious sex and fantasy imagery. And all I can think about is: 1)Who breastfeeds a child who is old enough to demand in sentences consisting of more than 1-syllable words, and
2)I see a child there, who has a learning disability and a fair bit of childish sadism (not unlike Nellie, who occasionally showed some heart.). Whereas Joffrey's sadism is the more adult version that he's not even ready for. Um... mama... I think your baby is stunted. Do you want him to be 40 years old and still coming home to untie your--- oh, lord. Ok, that's disturbing.
3) Weirdest sentence uttered in a bedroom: "Want me to go get my brother?" *shudder*
I'm disturbed and triggered all right. The public beatings, and the beatings done under duress certainly weren't anything I like seeing. But they didn't trigger me. I know I'm not immune to such things, but I was brought into it, hearing about how gory it was... (And that part of my brain that says "I have to see it myself" went nuts.) and it was simply, way too glossy, choreographed and cut to save time and segue into the next sequence.
I guess maybe the take-away lesson is: Imagine your monsters in pigtails and poofy bonnets.

Paging Dr. Freud...

I've freaking HAD IT. I have to either vent it out, pass the torch to my older sibling who can "honey badger it" a bit better than I can...I tend to care exceedingly... but I can feel my face getting hot and the urge to sit in a corner playing with my lower lip rising.
I don't know if this is my fault... I don't hear 9/10 of the conversations (hell, until recently, I read with my nose pressed to the page until I got exhausted by having to read as close as I was)...and not only am I undergoing sensory overload (O hai, I'm the child of yours who reacted so badly to her MMR shot that I now have health issues. He's the healthy one.)
1)Is it appropriate to charge $200/hr to be family psychiatrist?
2)Do you understand that when my face goes red, this is generally my body's way of saying "Ok, no more... blood pressure rising... discuss something else!"
3)Why was I tossed around among a series of octogenarian babysitters? (Great job, I'm a 29 year old elderly person!) and was I home during the 80's and 90's?
4)I was in speech therapy after I had rubella, scarlet fever and the reactions to my MMR...sometime around the time when I could be trusted with one of those Tupperware sippy cup thing a ma bobbers. It freaking hurts. Because it's um, a natural behavior I had to learn in an inorganic manner. So why, knowing I get either frustrated, or give up and go mute, do you insist on speaking for me? If I say, for example "I can't eat this right now," it's generally not "I don't like it." it's that surprise, surprise, my appetite changes. Why did you deal with Early Intervention, the Montessori Program, and the school district, for OT, PT and ST, pay for gymnastics, to help me achieve muscle tone, and decide, "I'm going to speak FOR her." Let me, for God's sake, learn to freaking communicate! My Pavlovian reaction is of course, to go silent. Then you ask me what's wrong (I hate when people do this, I have no clue why, except that I can never come up with an answer... "Oh, I'm worried about politics in the My Little Pony universe...you?") and tell me I was staring into space.

Courtesy of http://www.all-about-psychology.com/psychology-jokes.html

What part of I have migraines and black out occasionally, have issues left over from massive problems, and generally, hate drama (as, quite frankly, life is full of it, and why does more need to manufactured?) does it mean that it's a good thing to stress me out by telling me someone I care for died, or to bring up my ex husband? Um... I need a damn break. How about, "Oh, it's a pretty day! It's warming up! Have you seen any pretty butterflies or seen any interesting seashells/ etc"? "How about coffee?" "Did I tell you what Dixie did?" You ring my bell all right. And every time it bing-bongs, I have a need to recuperate that I never get. You know what? How about I focus on being a shoulder for the friends who are having it tough, focus on the good things that have come about, the process, the progress. Negativity? Why should I focus on that?!

I See Leaves Of Green...

Meet my pets... in lieu of a goldfish, or a dog (until I get my own place, I've become nursemaid to a trio of plants.

First is Bobbsey, a hardy little oxalis whose full name is Sir Bobbsey Longleaf. He hangs out soaking up light, and trailing himself all over the windowsill. Bobbsey just got some new friends!
Bobbsey opens up in the day and closes his leaves at night. He's pretty easy going. I get his soil a little damp, and he thrives and throws off new leaves and shoots.(He eats, shoots, and leaves.)

Next is Jack, named for the male half of the White Stripes, and their song, Blue Orchid. See, an orchid gets its' name from its' roots, which look like testes. Let's not have a discussion on why poor Jack is pink with a blue pot. He's pretty simple. 3 ice cubes in his pot a week.

And then, we have this lovely lady, the Baroness Rosalind Von Pepperpot. She rounds them out.
I wanted an extremely ridiculously aristocratic name, something like the names we gave a happy pair of ducks that used to hang out by Grandma's. To that end, they were Monsieur and Madame Puddleduck and their Quacklets.

Baroness Pepperpot is not a huge diva, but she definitely could use a clean up!

Edit: The Baroness was almost named Antoine, for  Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, but somehow, she just didn't strike me as an Antoine and while I do like the Little Prince, it's a bit sad. And that's not what I'm going for.

Canon In D Major For Piano and Violin

Among my major favorites, is a lot of Beethoven, Bach, particularly Cello Suite 1, and Pachebel's Canon In D Major.
Many think of weddings with the Canon in D. I think of a hot day and a cool ocean, or watching the stars go by.
I especially love the mix of violin and piano, and the deeper tones at base... it brings a new layer to the higher sounds and they're not so "wimpy". (I'm better with bass notes.)

With no further ado:

Dancing in the Shadows

Lately, it's been a game of finding puzzle pieces, and not, as of yet, finding solutions. A never ending NY Times crossword that goes from dream to nightmare when I realize someone's lost the clues. But, with a massive block of back-to-back appointments coming, and high anxiety being common place. People constantly demanding that I ask for help... ah, but I know what happens if people think you have! Besides, I LIKE doing things on my own, struggles are for learning from, life gets better. The sun always comes out if not tomorrow, than soon! People tearing down work with "I'd do it this way"... "I think that should go..." "Oh, look, who helped you?" (Nobody, if you please, I put in the freaking effort.) I need to go past that.
If, lately, I have asked something, in a burst of "let's see what happens", please, ignore it.

May seems to be booked already... medical board, furniture delivery, hearing aid evail and balance/ dizziness tests. I am swamped. I am sick and a bit bruised... I do need someone to talk to, but I'll do that when I quit being pigheaded and stubborn. I need a change of scenery... I am thinking first, get good sneakers and go head down to do some rock-climbing. And go from there.

She Puts the Bomp In The Bop-She-Bop

My friend Kristi is a spectacularly hilarious woman, who, in a burst of  "Life is nuts" added knee replacement surgery to her list.. she is not a complainer, and loves to read, write, create, sew, and has been a gigantic help to me. Send her love, and encouragement... see "Not the Bee's Knees" . This is also a woman who is spectacular at photography, and always has a wild and hilarious idea. Her Katy Perry look was awesome! :)

She is also the spectacular creator behind Topaz Crafts... here's the wreath I got as a Christmas gift in 2010. She also makes decorative brooms, and more.

Just Thinkin' ...

When it comes to faith, you need not push it on anyone, or preach... but attempt to live... and live it. If it means that you look weird, so be it. If it is simply a coping mechanism, so be it.
A little quiet, a little time to think, can be awful... or can be used to heal. Right  now... I have medical procedures to recover from, calls I've avoided making because I am a bit sad and it would feel awkward. Because like faith, you don't push sadness onto others.

In some ways, I feel better--- I still have had a few too many shocks and weirdnesses to sleep easily (and so, at nearly 2AM, I am up watching Alfred Hitchcock Presents? Sheesh, perfect for nightmares, isn't it?)

All I know is, I needed "down time"...since I downloaded "Family Tree: The Roots" by Radical Face a few months ago, and finally uploaded it to my iPod, I've been curled up, listening to that and to Beethoven. And reading bits of a book that uses Beethoven's journal entries. I think it's interesting that increasing deafness pulled Beethoven further from society of others, and into himself. His own hell. And yet, he took Goethe's opus, of a man named for fortune, who, when misfortune struck,  sought to get whatever he liked via a diabolical deal, hurt those who loved him...  and yet, Beethoven turned it into something quite heavenly.

And thinking. Anyone who knows me knows that thinking is probably not a good thing for me to indulge in, but I think I needed it.

Yes, I did take time, between Good Friday and Easter, to be quiet, to pray, yes, for Lent, I refused meat on Fridays. Not to preach, and not so I could "get" something... it simply felt natural and right to me.

My "thinkin' " gave me:
I: Don't hurt yourself, or others, to achieve what you want. A short-term happiness will be paid for with a long-term sadness.
II: Listen to your gut, not a bunch of "You shoulds" and "This is how it is," "This is how everyone does its"... if something feels wrong, it is because it is wrong for you, despite the shoulds, hows and everyone-does-it-s.
III: If it is right, do it. If it is wrong, do not do it.
IV:Sometimes, we disappoint others. We'll foul up here and there. If people turn their backs, they were not right for you in the first place. Someone who truly loves will not do so.
V: Lies, even if everyone-does-it- will serve only to hurt in the end.
Who cares, in the end, if someone practices old-fashioned, or odd ways of dealing... or whose faith is perhaps a bit strict (which they impose on themselves)--- the important thing is: Walk the walk. Talking the talk may not be needed. Show it with your actions.

May I find patience, and may I learn to forgive... myself.

In The Still, Still, Still of the Evening

The past few days of recovering from massive side effects of anti-seizure drugs (I have now gone through the entire spectrum), I've been sleeping long hours at weird times (Sleep, at all, is a blessing). I'm enjoying giving myself some quiet... yes, I do have worries on my mind, and 99 problems, yada yada... but can't quite point out exactly what's bugging me... pain? Anxiety? Worries about further tests, more falls, more black outs? So the quiet time, without analyzing, (any more than I already do) is nice.
But, when I wake up suddenly and find myself asking, "Ok, what the hell was that"? I know that something's seriously odd in dream land.

In the most freakish dream, I was experiencing what I'd call a nice day--- I'm by the sea, I'm happy. But then I fall and get a big gash on my arm. A few days later, I realize it's turning black and looks like things are moving under my skin. After a while, I can't stand it any longer, and I tear open the skin with my fingers, exposing the long muscle and bone...and a massive group of scorpions come out. We take care of them, call Orkin? or so I think, and my arm miraculously heals back. I go to bed, and in the middle of the night, realize crisp cotton sheets suddenly don't feel cool and comforting, but like I'm on fire! (If you know the pins and needles, limbs on fire feeling...that, times a million!) I quickly strip off the blankets and scurry, over a floor that's writhing, and there is a mass of scorpions, all chattering "Kill! Kill!" all over the place. One comes close, while I'm unprepared, even with a can of Raid, while I'm standing in a big t-shirt in the light of two 75 watt bulbs... and chants "kill, kill!" before pulling back its' spiny tail and digging it firmly into my thigh. And... then I woke up, clutching my leg and coated in sweat.

What the hell was that?!

Poodle Skirts, Saddle Shoes and Beehives...Oh My!

The Rookie has some gorgeous satire (the blog background strikes me, as it reminds me of something from my mom's mid-to-late 60's high school yearbook.)

How to Be A Lady "rocked my socks" as it were. It does help to know what sarcasm is, otherwise, heaven help you.

How To Be A Lady, Rookie Mag

Tip 1:
The only non-sarcastic truths from this tip on grooming would be
A)Wash yourself and your hair. You, everyday, your hair, every day to every other day, depending on texture.
B)If you like perfumes, find a signature scent. I like light florals, the clean stuff. But I'm working on a display for Grandma's perfumes (If this is wrong and I've accidentally given the title of a porn flick, then let it go, it happens ALL the time.) From her "Evening in Paris" perfume, to her "Opium" and the unopened bottle and box of Miss Dior. Which I'll put next to my own, Pure Grace. Try to make your own signature scent. Which means, get to know yourself.

Tip 2:
Everybody pees. Among other things. If you know there is no hiding that you are a piddler, then have some fun. Stock your water closet with good cooking magazines, books, whatever. I find Twilight comes in handy when I run out of toilet paper. Since I'm in there so much, with kidney issues, I'm seriously considering putting a disco ball in there. Gives "Do the Hustle" a whole new meaning, does it not?

Tip  3:
Clean, neat clothing. If you happen to have hips that cannot hold up pants: BUY A GOOD BELT. Also, go get measured. TRUST ME.

Tip 4:
Study. Try to learn as much about the world as you can, including the gory stuff. But...don't forget to LIVE. A bookworm can find themselves to be rather terrified by the world if they're not careful. But remember that your experiences will not be others'. Just because one person had the shot at being rebellious, etc doesn't mean that the person who is scared of their own shadow and of acting up is wrong. Don't think that if you've experienced it, everyone has to.

Tip 5:
Sometimes, "Get bent!" can come in handy on dates.
Eat the way you must for your health. Trying not to eat in front of people, or worrying about what it looks like you're doing (I happen to like whole, salted cucumbers. At one point, we were at such a clean part of the Baltic that it was possible to snip off cucumber tips and dunk them in the water...cold and salty-- yes, it looks like I'm doing untoward things to Shrek. I don't care!) is really silly. Food is there to nourish and be enjoyed. Screw "What must it look like?" and just freaking dig in.

Still Waters Run Deep

Sometimes, it can get so hectic that the chance to quietly contemplate, to pray for patience and peace, and to simply just be quiet is necessary.
Later, I'll watch a few disparate movies and sit back.

What odd ball things do I like to do by myself?
1)Make cookies... and then lick the spoon. Have the actual cookies with a glass of milk and not care if I end up greeting someone with a milky Fu-Manchu.
2)Allow myself the messiness of S'mores... I don't know about you, but I can't eat them without a ring of chocolate around my mouth and some marshmallow going everywhere.
3)Sit criss-cross applesauce and sway to Bob Dylan. Occasionally, I put my lighter in the air too.
4)Test out different things---"Well, this'll make a good hat..." (Most of the time, it would, provided I were Princess Beatrice.)
5)Learn about the craziest, most deliciously horrifying and disgusting things history can teach.
6)Take a shower while playing Handel's Water Music in the background, as loudly as it will go.
7)My version of dancing.
8)Laying on the rug "feeling" Beethoven.

For Good Friday, through Easter, I am starting a tortilla soup in the crock pot, and taking time to search for patience. I had no idea that taking this sort of quiet time was a weird thing, I just knew I needed it.
Also, while I did meatless Fridays during Lent, they weren't all fish...some fries, some soups, some spaghetti nights and some gf pizza from Davinci's.... because I can't stand 6 weeks straight of fish. And soon, I can go and get myself a good, sturdy, meaty meal. Once again, I had no clue this was a weird thing, and here, I informed friends about it, like "ain't no thang". I guess what you learn from the Pre Vatican II Catholics can stick with you. I only know I can use the quiet, the patience, the peace... and will work on that.

Happy Easter!

The warm/ windy/chilly/rainy weather is bloody annoying... it's a blessing I'm always cold and haven't put the Black Poppy toggle jacket away!

I was worried when I had tests done... and, besides pointing out that I have a polyp on my sinuses (I was born with it, I'll take it with me.) everything else is... INCONCLUSIVE. So, more tests, and a threat of a 3-day EEG with print out. How embarrassing to have a doctor read that smut! ;) ~ and blood tests galore. We know I'm vitamin deficient, have managed to have an issue with every anti-convulsive drug out there~~~ I got into a dark mood and joked that (A) I was going to hold a rave for epilepsy awareness, and (B) that's not any worse than a pie-eating contest for bulimia awareness. In my "Gallows Humor" moods, I can insult just about anyone.

Right now? All I can really say, kind of out of it is: "Tell Ronnie you got knocked the fuck out." So, tests, threats (somewhat vague, but issued anyway) of surgeries~ I am not good with surgery, recovery/ wake up time is a bit of a bugger, so that's something I'm pushing to the back.

I will also be having tests done because with the amount of vitamins---1,000 IU Vitamin D weekly, a daily multi-vitamin, feverfew and magnesium 3 times a day, and a B-12 shot once a month, I'm showing signs that I'm pissing them away. As of yet, nothing on the fair hearing asked for regarding my insurance company's spectacularly stupid reason for denying a root canal in a broken molar--- which could be fixed, and is actually more cost effective--- I tried to very politely say: "You are willing to choke on the cost for Imitrex injectors which cost $300 each, and numerous pills that get stopped due to allergies/ sensitivities. A healthy tooth could help with headaches. More stress, more pain, more tooth grinding, more jaw clenching... see the cycle? I might not need 3 packages of 2 injectors a month anymore. And you denied me because I'm over 21?! A healthy mouth helps a healthy body."
Maybe I'll hear back by August.

Next week...I correct more problems, and take a trip to... Planned Parenthood, as my gyno doesn't do birth control (but recommended I go there as she works for Catholic Health.) I love having to do extra for medical care.

Well, anyway... Happy Easter!

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

In stressful times, it's helpful to pull a Julie Andrews/ Pollyanna gambit. This does NOT mean dressing up as the Swiss Miss girl, or in an old curtain (I saw it in the window, and I couldn't resist!) - although, come to think of it, that COULD be fun... and serenading the Alps... (The hills are alive with the sound of mucus... with loogies they have hocked for a thousand years... 3rd grade flashback!) but focusing on the stress is not going to help you. If it's stress from illness, you're chasing your tail and not helping the original problem.

Don't do what I do... I have a tendency to avoid, to make myself so busy I get sicker...and when I finally have a chance to sit down... BAM!

Maybe, just maybe...
Take the time to do a Manic Movie Monday Night... grab a disparate collection of your favorites... ensuring nothing matches genre wise, and simply swaddle yourself, and curl up for a night of quiet enjoyment.

It's the little things that can mean a lot.

1)The stars. Sometimes, I can be lulled to sleep watching the NASA channel. We get light pollution, so watching the stars is a toughie. But I'll find it where I can.

2)Planning a simple sea/ocean inspired remodel... simply because I cleaned to the blank walls...and the sea is... HOME.

3) David Bowie. I can't help it. He makes me smile.




4)Doing the unstuck. Nothing more to say. I can't resist a smile, no matter what.


5)Loving, and being loved by my special and adorable lil' motley crew of a family.

~Someday, I'll fly away...

The Button

I'm currently attempting to help myself... my biggest issue is that I am more than capable of figuring out what's wrong, and analyzing it to death while attempting to actually do something about it... I have to... if people complain endlessly about something sucking and just let it lie forever, it will drive me insane. If I'm that person, then I eventually have to smack myself in the head, say something like, "Hello, McFly!" and get to work.

I procrastinated for weeks before I finally clicked on one particular button and, trying not to analyze, actually talked to RAINN... although I'm sickened by their stance on helping the transgendered with sexual assault... I knew, I was crumbling. Badly. While I'm aware that anger, triggering episodes, irresponsible behaviors, etc are normal, I also had tried to avoid the issue... and I am generally very prone to using a bit of dry gallows humor, at least at first, to deal... to wit: "A fire on Ash Wednesday? Brilliant!" I'll eventually have to break and meet it head on. When I realized I was an anxious mess (and thanking God that for the most part, those I've chosen to keep are patient with me when I head into spectacularly neurotic episodes.)

I tried a website where people can talk... about healing, about assault, etc... detested, right away "Victims" being the first word that I caught, and have yet to avoid clicking the red X to my right when the "This website may cause triggers" warning pops up. Nope. Can't handle. I've had more than enough. I have to cope, I have to work, I have to find comfort when I can.

Certain "innocent" or "normal" things people say will cause me to shut down, to become angry. If I show in some way that it did, it will anger me more. "Daddy like" causes me to flash back to an incident where The Idiot Known As Ricky Fucktardo decided to A) entrust me with the knowledge that incest turned him on... (Strike 1---and OUT!.) and B) tried to invite a couple who could satisfy that whim. Having no interest in swinging was something I already got shouted at, beaten up, and occasionally, invited to whether I wanted it or not. (I'm so glad I live somewhere where no neighbors can attest to me literally running for my life to a friends' in my underwear.) They were creepy, they were forceful, I was stuck for the night, unfortunately, and my skin was crawling. I hid in the closet.
Then there was the guy that he invited over---a big, creepy guy who had told RF* that he'd give him $ to have sex with me. And left me alone with him... When he tried to get me onto his lap, I ran. Later on, I received the fight of my life... and  physical scars that still heal to this day. Because I'd cost him money and he'd made a promise to this guy. I was supposed to be good, I was supposed to be obedient. I'd made him look like an asshole. Now I deal with itching, peeling, etc... and thank God that it's gone.

Anyone who says "Do something sexually to prove you care", even in jest, is more or less going to freak me out. I will never be able to look at that person the same way.
I always figure a true friend can get you a gallon of milk on the way over without needing to have their schlongs or other parts polished just for the favor. I also figure that if I feel like thanking a person, then I'd make sure that they got gas money if needed, a hand written thank you note,  or a home cooked meal, or gee, maybe a heart-felt thank you. If a sexual favor is expected in return for a favor, it's not happening.