Been busy.
I want to say something here that I really can't say anywhere else (or to anyone else.) Since I figure no one's reading this blog anyway, I can say what I like and I hopefully won't hear about it from well-meaning people who think I'm nuts.
I have my first lesson in learning to drive today, BUT it's not for the reasons you might think. Of course, I want the convenience when it's minus 12 out like today, I have no money in my wallet, and I need to get to the bank...and my only option is to HIKE IT. This sucks. It's cold. Yesterday when I walked to work, I had ICE on my EYEBROWS.
No, I have a completely different reason in mind. And his name is James. Or will be James, since I'm planning on going for a newborn.
I am looking into single-parent adoption.
Seriously. Really. Yes.
Hopefully, in two years, I will legally be someone's mother.
Seriously. Really. Yes.
I've shut down the whole idea of ever having someone to marry, and I also shut down the idea that I could carry my own child to term and not have serious damage done to my own body that would take weeks to heal. Since I'm considering becoming a single parent, taking weeks to heal isn't going to cut it. I can't, with good conscience, drop a newborn into my mother's lap for 6 to 8 weeks while I heal up from having said newborn.
I've thought about him a lot this week-in fact, it's been almost the only thing on my mind. James has somehow gone from a thought in my head to being a real person, a real child, banging pots and learning to walk. I'm already planning his room (elephants. I like elephants) and where his crib is going to go.
His face isn't clear yet, but the feeling in my chest when I think of what he could be like is. I don't particularly care what color he is-in fact, I saw an African-American baby on the Internet last night and thought that maybe James will look like that. Maybe he'll look more like me. Don't know.
Of course, I'm unsure of how it's going to work, but isn't that always the way? At least I get two years plus to prepare for mine-most people don't even get ONE.
Once I get my license (hopefully by summer, which can't come fast enough, thank you), I'll start the paperwork with whichever agency I choose (I have a couple in mind.) I already read the adoption manual and contacted the government and I'm going over to the Health Department this morning and getting whatever they've got on this, just so I'm fully prepared to do whatever is necessary (and legal!) to bring James home.
So, that's my big secret. I have to tell someone outside of my mother (who's all for it, by the way, so it seems I'm making a good decision here.) I'm actually already writing letters to my son (helps me deal with the emotional overload right now-two years and possibly more is a long time to wait for someone and I know the happy balloon feeling won't last.)
I might have to wait longer than most mothers for my son to arrive, but the wait will be worth it.
Ta,
Bec
31.12.14
5.12.14
Campaigning!
I started trouble this morning. Again.
There is no awareness day for LS. None. There's a Vulvar Health Month-March-but no LS Day. No support for those who itch, burn, and scratch miserably all day, every day (like me this week.)
But I want to change all that. Fibro and Lyme's have their day (or month in the case of Lyme's), so why can't my other, infinitely more annoying condition?
I chose March, obviously, and in picking a day, I chose March 7 because apparently that's "Be Heard" day. I already wrote my Congressman and started a fight on the LS page (my ribbon apparently is superseded by someone else's...and hers suck.) Mine is nice and simple and is open to improvements. Never mind that I have no artistic ability at all.
Hers is...green and purple? Apparently it's for gyn awareness (teal) and chronic pain (purple). And she did pinkish for rare diseases on one of the curves and zebra stripes for scarring.
No one seems to be listening to my ideas and it's ticking me off. I think I should get off Facebook and get some actual work done before I start Hulk-smashing the computer screen.
Why does no one ever listen to me?
On top of that, my neck and shoulder on the right side seized up this morning. No reason why. Just because. I could barely turn my head before I had painkillers in my system.
I should get back to work. Let you know if Duffy the Doofus gets back to me or shuts me down.
Ta,
Bec
There is no awareness day for LS. None. There's a Vulvar Health Month-March-but no LS Day. No support for those who itch, burn, and scratch miserably all day, every day (like me this week.)
But I want to change all that. Fibro and Lyme's have their day (or month in the case of Lyme's), so why can't my other, infinitely more annoying condition?
I chose March, obviously, and in picking a day, I chose March 7 because apparently that's "Be Heard" day. I already wrote my Congressman and started a fight on the LS page (my ribbon apparently is superseded by someone else's...and hers suck.) Mine is nice and simple and is open to improvements. Never mind that I have no artistic ability at all.
Hers is...green and purple? Apparently it's for gyn awareness (teal) and chronic pain (purple). And she did pinkish for rare diseases on one of the curves and zebra stripes for scarring.
No one seems to be listening to my ideas and it's ticking me off. I think I should get off Facebook and get some actual work done before I start Hulk-smashing the computer screen.
Why does no one ever listen to me?
On top of that, my neck and shoulder on the right side seized up this morning. No reason why. Just because. I could barely turn my head before I had painkillers in my system.
I should get back to work. Let you know if Duffy the Doofus gets back to me or shuts me down.
Ta,
Bec
7.11.14
November Update
Blog Entry
I haven't really had much going on as of late, but I figured an update was in order.
Lady Bits Warning...
My LS is under control. That's the only good news. The rest of it is that my skin has been under siege for so long that now I am dealing with muscles not doing as they ought, and my entrance has become so tight that trying to get anything in there tears the skin in front and leaves me hurting for days.
Things have become so drastic that my doctor is asking if I have difficulty going to the loo yet, because that's next if I don't get this fixed.
My options at the current moment are two: I can either fight this thing and tear myself open every couple of days for the next few months, hoping that the skin doesn't permanently scar and that I can eventually get it loose enough that it doesn't tear anymore (wishful thinking), or I can have surgery where they do that for me (I was told it's extremely painful.)
I chose the first option for the moment. If I need surgery, I'd rather it be as a last resort. I'm not my grandmother, my uncle, or my father. I'm going to do all I can do to fix this problem at home before I let someone near me with a scalpel. Besides, surgery would prevent me from going to work for at least a week...and YOU try explaining to your director exactly what you just had done and where in a delicate fashion without actually telling him. Yeah, not wanting to go there unless I have to.
She recommended that I see a specialist in Ann Arbor, and I am working on getting that set up. It's going to be summer before I go, but you know me-plan a thousand years in advance.
I've done one treatment since I've seen her, and I'm probably going to do another on Sunday night or Monday. I hate doing this to myself (anyone would) but I have run out of options.
Meanwhile.
Arrow is doing it again. They love taking the last two minutes of an episode and throwing a curveball at you...and then they LEAVE YOU TO ROT FOR A WEEK. They did that all last year, and they pulled it again this week. It was mean and underhanded, and I will watch again next week because I can't STAND not knowing (and I really love it when they do it; don't listen to me.)
Writing has been really hard lately. Don't know why-my attention span is all over the map. I think I actually have to bloody get some focus or something.
Work is actually really good. I just got my first evaluation and I am doing well. One plus in a sea of negatives.
Very tired and going to sign off, seeing as no writing is getting done tonight.
Ta, y'all.
Bec
I haven't really had much going on as of late, but I figured an update was in order.
Lady Bits Warning...
My LS is under control. That's the only good news. The rest of it is that my skin has been under siege for so long that now I am dealing with muscles not doing as they ought, and my entrance has become so tight that trying to get anything in there tears the skin in front and leaves me hurting for days.
Things have become so drastic that my doctor is asking if I have difficulty going to the loo yet, because that's next if I don't get this fixed.
My options at the current moment are two: I can either fight this thing and tear myself open every couple of days for the next few months, hoping that the skin doesn't permanently scar and that I can eventually get it loose enough that it doesn't tear anymore (wishful thinking), or I can have surgery where they do that for me (I was told it's extremely painful.)
I chose the first option for the moment. If I need surgery, I'd rather it be as a last resort. I'm not my grandmother, my uncle, or my father. I'm going to do all I can do to fix this problem at home before I let someone near me with a scalpel. Besides, surgery would prevent me from going to work for at least a week...and YOU try explaining to your director exactly what you just had done and where in a delicate fashion without actually telling him. Yeah, not wanting to go there unless I have to.
She recommended that I see a specialist in Ann Arbor, and I am working on getting that set up. It's going to be summer before I go, but you know me-plan a thousand years in advance.
I've done one treatment since I've seen her, and I'm probably going to do another on Sunday night or Monday. I hate doing this to myself (anyone would) but I have run out of options.
Meanwhile.
Arrow is doing it again. They love taking the last two minutes of an episode and throwing a curveball at you...and then they LEAVE YOU TO ROT FOR A WEEK. They did that all last year, and they pulled it again this week. It was mean and underhanded, and I will watch again next week because I can't STAND not knowing (and I really love it when they do it; don't listen to me.)
Writing has been really hard lately. Don't know why-my attention span is all over the map. I think I actually have to bloody get some focus or something.
Work is actually really good. I just got my first evaluation and I am doing well. One plus in a sea of negatives.
Very tired and going to sign off, seeing as no writing is getting done tonight.
Ta, y'all.
Bec
18.9.14
Moving On Again
I moved again yesterday. Will post video of the new place when the living room doesn't look like a high wind took out most of it.
I am now 2 miles from work rather than 4 or 4 1/2 (however much it was.) I've cleared out the old apartment...the only stuff left is in the garage now.
I love my new job and I am glad to be doing it.
Still getting a handle on the new Doctor.
Still sore from moving.
Gotta go put these books back on the shelf.
Ta,
Bec
I am now 2 miles from work rather than 4 or 4 1/2 (however much it was.) I've cleared out the old apartment...the only stuff left is in the garage now.
I love my new job and I am glad to be doing it.
Still getting a handle on the new Doctor.
Still sore from moving.
Gotta go put these books back on the shelf.
Ta,
Bec
12.8.14
After 999 Days, I Will Shelve Again
Got the job at Nicolet.
I am so stupidly happy I think I'm going to drive everyone spare with my happy.
It's only been a little under 24 hours since I got the offer, so I'm still registering dollops of shock and disbelief that someone actually decided I was capable enough to work in a library again.
I quit at F&S on the 29th. Glory be. Thought I was never going to get out of there.
I'll talk more later-I still have to go to work at my old job before I can start my new one. Trivialities.
Sigh.
This week was just destined to be nuts. Got dinner out with my mother and sisters tomorrow, Thursday I have two shifts (regular and then I go back for two more hours for overtime.) Friday is the big party, Saturday I work all day and then go to my class reunion...which might turn out awkward because I know for a fact I just beat one of my classmates to this library job (saw her at the bottom of the stairs at the end of the interview.)
Gotta go.
Ta,
Bec
I am so stupidly happy I think I'm going to drive everyone spare with my happy.
It's only been a little under 24 hours since I got the offer, so I'm still registering dollops of shock and disbelief that someone actually decided I was capable enough to work in a library again.
I quit at F&S on the 29th. Glory be. Thought I was never going to get out of there.
I'll talk more later-I still have to go to work at my old job before I can start my new one. Trivialities.
Sigh.
This week was just destined to be nuts. Got dinner out with my mother and sisters tomorrow, Thursday I have two shifts (regular and then I go back for two more hours for overtime.) Friday is the big party, Saturday I work all day and then go to my class reunion...which might turn out awkward because I know for a fact I just beat one of my classmates to this library job (saw her at the bottom of the stairs at the end of the interview.)
Gotta go.
Ta,
Bec
26.7.14
I'm BACK!
Hi, hi. Been away for almost two months this time (eesh.) I've been depressed and in the doldrums most of that time. It's been a rough summer. There may be light at the end of the tunnel (we'll see about that in about two, two and a half weeks.)
I have an interview with a library here in town two weeks from this past Friday (there's the light at the end of the tunnel I was talking about. Let's hope no one hits the lightbulb with a broom, eh?) I have another interview the next week with the other one in town (I have no hope with that one.)
I also have a Pampered Chef party that same day. Getting there on the setting up part. It takes time to do these things. I'm very organized (no, really. It is Scary (I meant the capital S) how bloody organized I am. I've already tested the recipes I'm using, already asked the apartment manager about parking and signs, and I have a separate cupboard set aside for party stuff. And I have just under three weeks to go till the shindig.
Novel is not moving at all. Doldrums struck again, plus the fact that I am working overtime every single stupid week. No free time.
(Rant on LS progress coming up. Lady bits rebelling again. You have been warned.)
My LS is not very under control anymore, thanks to me not putting my medication on for a long while because I thought I was OK. I let it run rampant and wild and free and now I need treatment to get the skin stretchable and the way it was supposed to be before my body decided to start attacking itself. I have an appt. next week. Fun, fun, funny fun fun. The amusement I feel is just killing me. Backless gowns, my poor wretched parts on display and the gyn admonishing me for taking methylcellulose instead of psyllium this month. Sigh.
I got rid of my disposable pads for good (gave the rest to my sisters.) I've moved onto organic cotton ones (with little shamrocks on them.) If you think that's stupid, this is why I did: LS makes the skin thinner and more prone to damage. Now take a paper pad (tampons are out with me-can't get them in at all) and really rub it on that skin for about 4 days straight (about how long I have to wear the thick ones.) It becomes like sandpaper, and you can't stop because who wants blood all over their clothes?
It gets worse and worse with every day that passes and then there are tears and your skin hurts and look who's all open for the infection business. It takes my skin days to heal, every time. Who wants to go through all of THAT, every month, for the next twenty years or so?
Not me. I'd rather wash my cloth things over and over again. Really. It's just another change I've had to make-first it was jeans, now it's the disposable pads. They actually came too late for me to use them last month, but I have them for this month, so the real test is going to come when I actually have to use them and them alone for the first time...because I haven't got a disposable pad in the house. I will just have to adjust. It's either this or go back to being in terrible pain for over a week out of every month.
I have to go take my medication (Vitamin B, which tastes like skunk spray and is horrid; Vitamin D, which doesn't have a taste at all, and birth control (don't come after me with your pitchforks. Keep your tines over there.) I can't get pregnant-I haven't had a man within ten feet of this mess in ages because I'm not dating in Rhinelander (I'm related to them all/I know them/they're all stupid,) and even if he wanted me, he can't have me because the LS tightened up the doors of the S.S. Lady Bits. Then the vaginismus did in my muscles so there's no actual 'hallway' there. THEN there's a big old muscle knot sitting like a rock in the middle of said hallway because of Pollnow the male gyn idiot, who stuck a speculum up there and messed up my poor befuddled body in that particular region. As was once said on the doors leading to the Dead Men of Dunharrow (Tolkien, thank you) "The Way is Shut." Except I don't have dead people in there, I just have too many problems to list when it comes to all of THAT (waves hands in the direction of crotch area.)
The birth control is merely to make my periods less (more like 4-5 days instead of just over a week, a thought I heartily applaud) and it should balance out my hirsutism (I have hair growing on my shoulderblades (just a couple off the top of my back-no one but me has seen them, but I KNOW THEY'RE THERE and it BUGS me), the sides of my face, down my chest, down my stomach-lots of places where it shouldn't be.) This should help with that. Thank God. I'm starting to think I'm a werewolf or something here. Might have to call in a Winchester (Dean's not well at present in the storyline, so it's going to be Sam) if I start sprouting fangs and claws, disappearing from my bed at night and not remembering where I was in the morning, and people turning up with their hearts missing.)
The long and drawn out explanation you have just slogged through is to explain to all of you five people that actually read this that while I normally wouldn't speak of these issues, I feel that if I don't explain them, you're going to wonder what's going on with me. I want you to understand. I'm not complaining. I'm EXplaining. Most of the time, the lady bits talk would be off-limits, but this is going to affect the rest of my life, from whether I can ever have a sexual partner to whether I can have children without ripping all that mess down below to shreds, to what will happen when I do hit menopause. The LS is going to make it all four times as difficult as it was going to be anyway, and then there's the muscle knot and the vaginismus tossed in on top of it. These are things I'm probably going to have to deal with a lot in the next ten, twenty years, and if I have to SAY all this to someone, it might be easier to just have them read it here.
And now I realize that since I have now taken all the medications I needed to take and my glass is sitting here with that nasty sugary Citrucel residue on it I'm going to need to wipe off before going to bed, that it is indeed bedtime and I must go because I have to work tomorrow (boo.)
Ta, you lot. I will try to talk more often and less graphically in the next entry.
Bec
I have an interview with a library here in town two weeks from this past Friday (there's the light at the end of the tunnel I was talking about. Let's hope no one hits the lightbulb with a broom, eh?) I have another interview the next week with the other one in town (I have no hope with that one.)
I also have a Pampered Chef party that same day. Getting there on the setting up part. It takes time to do these things. I'm very organized (no, really. It is Scary (I meant the capital S) how bloody organized I am. I've already tested the recipes I'm using, already asked the apartment manager about parking and signs, and I have a separate cupboard set aside for party stuff. And I have just under three weeks to go till the shindig.
Novel is not moving at all. Doldrums struck again, plus the fact that I am working overtime every single stupid week. No free time.
(Rant on LS progress coming up. Lady bits rebelling again. You have been warned.)
My LS is not very under control anymore, thanks to me not putting my medication on for a long while because I thought I was OK. I let it run rampant and wild and free and now I need treatment to get the skin stretchable and the way it was supposed to be before my body decided to start attacking itself. I have an appt. next week. Fun, fun, funny fun fun. The amusement I feel is just killing me. Backless gowns, my poor wretched parts on display and the gyn admonishing me for taking methylcellulose instead of psyllium this month. Sigh.
I got rid of my disposable pads for good (gave the rest to my sisters.) I've moved onto organic cotton ones (with little shamrocks on them.) If you think that's stupid, this is why I did: LS makes the skin thinner and more prone to damage. Now take a paper pad (tampons are out with me-can't get them in at all) and really rub it on that skin for about 4 days straight (about how long I have to wear the thick ones.) It becomes like sandpaper, and you can't stop because who wants blood all over their clothes?
It gets worse and worse with every day that passes and then there are tears and your skin hurts and look who's all open for the infection business. It takes my skin days to heal, every time. Who wants to go through all of THAT, every month, for the next twenty years or so?
Not me. I'd rather wash my cloth things over and over again. Really. It's just another change I've had to make-first it was jeans, now it's the disposable pads. They actually came too late for me to use them last month, but I have them for this month, so the real test is going to come when I actually have to use them and them alone for the first time...because I haven't got a disposable pad in the house. I will just have to adjust. It's either this or go back to being in terrible pain for over a week out of every month.
I have to go take my medication (Vitamin B, which tastes like skunk spray and is horrid; Vitamin D, which doesn't have a taste at all, and birth control (don't come after me with your pitchforks. Keep your tines over there.) I can't get pregnant-I haven't had a man within ten feet of this mess in ages because I'm not dating in Rhinelander (I'm related to them all/I know them/they're all stupid,) and even if he wanted me, he can't have me because the LS tightened up the doors of the S.S. Lady Bits. Then the vaginismus did in my muscles so there's no actual 'hallway' there. THEN there's a big old muscle knot sitting like a rock in the middle of said hallway because of Pollnow the male gyn idiot, who stuck a speculum up there and messed up my poor befuddled body in that particular region. As was once said on the doors leading to the Dead Men of Dunharrow (Tolkien, thank you) "The Way is Shut." Except I don't have dead people in there, I just have too many problems to list when it comes to all of THAT (waves hands in the direction of crotch area.)
The birth control is merely to make my periods less (more like 4-5 days instead of just over a week, a thought I heartily applaud) and it should balance out my hirsutism (I have hair growing on my shoulderblades (just a couple off the top of my back-no one but me has seen them, but I KNOW THEY'RE THERE and it BUGS me), the sides of my face, down my chest, down my stomach-lots of places where it shouldn't be.) This should help with that. Thank God. I'm starting to think I'm a werewolf or something here. Might have to call in a Winchester (Dean's not well at present in the storyline, so it's going to be Sam) if I start sprouting fangs and claws, disappearing from my bed at night and not remembering where I was in the morning, and people turning up with their hearts missing.)
The long and drawn out explanation you have just slogged through is to explain to all of you five people that actually read this that while I normally wouldn't speak of these issues, I feel that if I don't explain them, you're going to wonder what's going on with me. I want you to understand. I'm not complaining. I'm EXplaining. Most of the time, the lady bits talk would be off-limits, but this is going to affect the rest of my life, from whether I can ever have a sexual partner to whether I can have children without ripping all that mess down below to shreds, to what will happen when I do hit menopause. The LS is going to make it all four times as difficult as it was going to be anyway, and then there's the muscle knot and the vaginismus tossed in on top of it. These are things I'm probably going to have to deal with a lot in the next ten, twenty years, and if I have to SAY all this to someone, it might be easier to just have them read it here.
And now I realize that since I have now taken all the medications I needed to take and my glass is sitting here with that nasty sugary Citrucel residue on it I'm going to need to wipe off before going to bed, that it is indeed bedtime and I must go because I have to work tomorrow (boo.)
Ta, you lot. I will try to talk more often and less graphically in the next entry.
Bec
9.5.14
Recipe Book 2014 Is Ready For Your Perusal!
Remember that recipe book I posted for you a while back?
It's nearly Mother's Day, and your genius blogger friend decided the WEEK BEFORE to reedit this monstrosity.
All
191
pages.
In the realm of stupid decisions I have made this year (one which resulted in me covered in marshy water from thigh to shoes...you don't wanna know) this move ranks pretty high. Why I have to wait till crunch time to futz around with this is beyond me.
So, I decided Friday was the day I have to have it done. I started Monday night.
I sat for 11 hours the last four days (on top of the 32 other hours I've sat this week working my real job.) I got up at 5:30, went to bed late, dreamed of page numbers and footers and God knows what else.
I made a lot of mistakes last time, mostly because I rushed this project to completion and didn't look where things were going. This time I was rushing, but I was fixing mistakes.
So far, I have installed one program and 50 fonts trying to get this done.
But as of now, it is done. I found this thing that did the page numbers for me automatically (SO keeping that program.)
I have gone over it half a dozen times checking and rechecking this one, but if I did miss something, please don't hesitate to contact me and let me know so I can fix it.
I will post a link here. Happy cooking. Let me know how it turns out!
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4NSjOV9R_4seWw4dGx1MlpJQTQ/edit?usp=sharing
Ta,
Bec
It's nearly Mother's Day, and your genius blogger friend decided the WEEK BEFORE to reedit this monstrosity.
All
191
pages.
In the realm of stupid decisions I have made this year (one which resulted in me covered in marshy water from thigh to shoes...you don't wanna know) this move ranks pretty high. Why I have to wait till crunch time to futz around with this is beyond me.
So, I decided Friday was the day I have to have it done. I started Monday night.
I sat for 11 hours the last four days (on top of the 32 other hours I've sat this week working my real job.) I got up at 5:30, went to bed late, dreamed of page numbers and footers and God knows what else.
I made a lot of mistakes last time, mostly because I rushed this project to completion and didn't look where things were going. This time I was rushing, but I was fixing mistakes.
So far, I have installed one program and 50 fonts trying to get this done.
But as of now, it is done. I found this thing that did the page numbers for me automatically (SO keeping that program.)
I have gone over it half a dozen times checking and rechecking this one, but if I did miss something, please don't hesitate to contact me and let me know so I can fix it.
I will post a link here. Happy cooking. Let me know how it turns out!
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4NSjOV9R_4seWw4dGx1MlpJQTQ/edit?usp=sharing
Ta,
Bec
11.4.14
Been Not Writing Because Nothing's Happening
Sorry I haven't written for over a month. Nothing has really changed. I'm waiting for it to, and trying to affect change. We'll see if my efforts pay off. I won't know for awhile.
I've been working (too much), writing (not enough), and being miserable (trying not to sink into the pit is hard when it looks so darn inviting.)
I guess you could say I'm in a near-permanent state of depression (yay for a spike in my fibro to go with it, like a side of potatoes with ham. Joyous.)
Something's gotta give, here, before I start going gray, mad, or both.
I'm writing some poems-nothing good, nothing groundbreaking, nothing astounding. It's all "woe is me" stuff and I wish I could write something happy, but I guess I am just not capable of it right now.
I bite my lip and say I'm slogging, but really I'm plodding through every minute hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel, only to find the person with the light has moved down the tunnel another mile and a half.
Oh, metaphor. You are a reliable and descriptive friend.
I need a breakthrough, and I need it soon. I can't just keep going like this without some glimmer of hope that things are going to change, or I'll do something stupid and drastic (base jumping, eating puffer fish, learn to drive...)
Sigh.
So that's that. Thank you for reading my whining (again.)
Ta,
Bec
I've been working (too much), writing (not enough), and being miserable (trying not to sink into the pit is hard when it looks so darn inviting.)
I guess you could say I'm in a near-permanent state of depression (yay for a spike in my fibro to go with it, like a side of potatoes with ham. Joyous.)
Something's gotta give, here, before I start going gray, mad, or both.
I'm writing some poems-nothing good, nothing groundbreaking, nothing astounding. It's all "woe is me" stuff and I wish I could write something happy, but I guess I am just not capable of it right now.
I bite my lip and say I'm slogging, but really I'm plodding through every minute hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel, only to find the person with the light has moved down the tunnel another mile and a half.
Oh, metaphor. You are a reliable and descriptive friend.
I need a breakthrough, and I need it soon. I can't just keep going like this without some glimmer of hope that things are going to change, or I'll do something stupid and drastic (base jumping, eating puffer fish, learn to drive...)
Sigh.
So that's that. Thank you for reading my whining (again.)
Ta,
Bec
19.2.14
I Am Still Just A Rat In A Cage
Listening to "Supremacy" over and over again because I bloody well can. I'm feeling punchy. I want to hit something. That song makes me feel better.
I'm feeling trapped and cornered, and I don't handle that very well.
Watched a movie today with Tom Hiddleston and Rachel Weisz called "Deep Blue Sea." I don't know which one of the characters was more of a mess-Setting the scene in post-war London...he was childish, unable to handle a mature relationship. She was emotionally repressed and was married to this guy who didn't, well, stimulate her very much.
She hooked up with Tom Hiddleston's character Freddie probably because he excited her and warmed her blood. I don't think he ever had the ability to care for her the way she cared for him, and it backfired spectacularly in her face. Here she is, stuck between a husband she doesn't really want to go back to and a man who doesn't love her and is walking out the door. She's never lived for herself. She doesn't think she can, so she tries to off herself. THAT throws the sparklers on the fire...Freddie basically tells her he's going, that's it, relationship over. Her husband comes over to convince her to come back to him (not happening.)
But it seemed to me that her attempt to kill herself set her to thinking that maybe she'd just have to manage on her own, without the husband or the lover. So it seems she's going to, at the end of the movie.
Anyhow, didn't realize I didn't finish this last night. I have to be off to work in ten minutes, so see you all later.
Ta,
Bec
14.2.14
Been Busy Lately
Finished watching "Coriolanus" last night, the one at the Donmar with Tom Hiddleston in the title role. It also had Mark Gatiss (Mycroft Holmes in "Sherlock"), two guys who were with David Tennant in two other Shakespeare plays (one was Horatio in Hamlet, the other was the bad guy in "Much Ado") and the kid who played Dean Thomas in the HP films and turned up in Sherlock as the guard who got stabbed and didn't know it for several hours.
All together they were a fine cast, and it was a good production. I liked it. Lots of fake blood, most of it on Coriolanus' handsome head. Then there was a terribly uncomfortable scene at the end where they hung him upside down, cut his throat, and Aufidius bathed in his blood. Very nice.
Haven't been writing much-I'm screaming my way through 7 seasons of Burn Notice (I'll finish completely tomorrow with the three remaining episodes.) There were days when I was watching 6 episodes in a row-if I hadn't, I'd still be in season 3 somewhere.
I'm going full-time this weekend-might be switching departments one of these days, but we'll see. I am pickier on the job hunt these days because now I have to get full time work, or I can't justify moving somewhere else. I have one outstanding application-I'm hoping to hear back soon.
I also took up a "Bucket List" item at the beginning of the year-that of reading all of Shakespeare's plays. Contrary to popular belief, at the beginning of 2014, I had only read or seen about 20 of the 38 that exist. Now I'm up to 27.
I've done all the histories-some of them were complicated family matters that required the use of a family tree to get who exactly certain people were-Richard Plantagenet was in the first part of Henry VI, and he claimed to have a better claim to the throne thanks to his grandfather being the second son of Edward III. The king who was on the throne was descended from the fourth son of Edward III.
It takes three plays and several deaths (including Richard, the king, his son, his wife, and a bunch of innocent people who probably didn't deserve to be killed,) but eventually Richard Plantagenet's eldest son Edward gets the throne away from the guy who's apparently not supposed to have it.
The most interesting thing about all three of these plays is the seance someone decides to whip up in the middle of the fracas. Even for my bard-loving blood, three plays about "Who's Ruling First?" and "It's Mine Because Birth Order of My Grandfather Says It Is," is almost too much to take. And the fact that Henry VI sits back and lets his wife do all the warring for him.
And then there's Henry VIII, the obscure play that no one really likes because it's a clear posthumous kiss-ass to Elizabeth I. Observe, if you will, that Henry rejoices over the birth of his daughter (anyone who knows even half of what I do about Henry should know THAT right there is a load of bull) and Elizabeth's christening is stretched out into a lavish, crazy affair which seems to indicate she will rule one day, even though A) she's a girl, and girls in the 16th century didn't get to rule, even over their younger brothers and B) she has an older half-sister (Mary) who would (and did) get first crack at it anyway, if girls were allowed to rule.
Catherine of Aragon is the first wife, and she comes out looking quite rosy even when she gets banished from court. Anne Boleyn (Wife #2), who is the mother of Elizabeth, gets her beheading neatly avoided. The other 4 wives don't even show up. The whole thing is nonsense. The amount of lies in that play could pave a highway.
So, all in all, not one of my favorite plays. I'll stick to the tragedies-I like them better. Not sure what that says about me when I like death and misery better than I like clothes-swapping and mistaken identities or rulers slashing down their uncles/nephews/everyone in sight (hm-hm-Richard III)
And I get a bit of a laugh over Shakespeare's dramatic license. Henry V and King John both died of dysentery. He never mentions in Henry VI what killed Henry V, and King John gets to die of poisoning (and gets to say a whole lot beforehand.) I guess dying of the endless runs isn't nearly as fierce and imposing as poisoning or just plain dying.
Anyhow, going to bed now to hopefully finish "As You Like It," which for some reason has taken me nearly a month to get through.
All together they were a fine cast, and it was a good production. I liked it. Lots of fake blood, most of it on Coriolanus' handsome head. Then there was a terribly uncomfortable scene at the end where they hung him upside down, cut his throat, and Aufidius bathed in his blood. Very nice.
Haven't been writing much-I'm screaming my way through 7 seasons of Burn Notice (I'll finish completely tomorrow with the three remaining episodes.) There were days when I was watching 6 episodes in a row-if I hadn't, I'd still be in season 3 somewhere.
I'm going full-time this weekend-might be switching departments one of these days, but we'll see. I am pickier on the job hunt these days because now I have to get full time work, or I can't justify moving somewhere else. I have one outstanding application-I'm hoping to hear back soon.
I also took up a "Bucket List" item at the beginning of the year-that of reading all of Shakespeare's plays. Contrary to popular belief, at the beginning of 2014, I had only read or seen about 20 of the 38 that exist. Now I'm up to 27.
I've done all the histories-some of them were complicated family matters that required the use of a family tree to get who exactly certain people were-Richard Plantagenet was in the first part of Henry VI, and he claimed to have a better claim to the throne thanks to his grandfather being the second son of Edward III. The king who was on the throne was descended from the fourth son of Edward III.
It takes three plays and several deaths (including Richard, the king, his son, his wife, and a bunch of innocent people who probably didn't deserve to be killed,) but eventually Richard Plantagenet's eldest son Edward gets the throne away from the guy who's apparently not supposed to have it.
The most interesting thing about all three of these plays is the seance someone decides to whip up in the middle of the fracas. Even for my bard-loving blood, three plays about "Who's Ruling First?" and "It's Mine Because Birth Order of My Grandfather Says It Is," is almost too much to take. And the fact that Henry VI sits back and lets his wife do all the warring for him.
And then there's Henry VIII, the obscure play that no one really likes because it's a clear posthumous kiss-ass to Elizabeth I. Observe, if you will, that Henry rejoices over the birth of his daughter (anyone who knows even half of what I do about Henry should know THAT right there is a load of bull) and Elizabeth's christening is stretched out into a lavish, crazy affair which seems to indicate she will rule one day, even though A) she's a girl, and girls in the 16th century didn't get to rule, even over their younger brothers and B) she has an older half-sister (Mary) who would (and did) get first crack at it anyway, if girls were allowed to rule.
Catherine of Aragon is the first wife, and she comes out looking quite rosy even when she gets banished from court. Anne Boleyn (Wife #2), who is the mother of Elizabeth, gets her beheading neatly avoided. The other 4 wives don't even show up. The whole thing is nonsense. The amount of lies in that play could pave a highway.
So, all in all, not one of my favorite plays. I'll stick to the tragedies-I like them better. Not sure what that says about me when I like death and misery better than I like clothes-swapping and mistaken identities or rulers slashing down their uncles/nephews/everyone in sight (hm-hm-Richard III)
And I get a bit of a laugh over Shakespeare's dramatic license. Henry V and King John both died of dysentery. He never mentions in Henry VI what killed Henry V, and King John gets to die of poisoning (and gets to say a whole lot beforehand.) I guess dying of the endless runs isn't nearly as fierce and imposing as poisoning or just plain dying.
Anyhow, going to bed now to hopefully finish "As You Like It," which for some reason has taken me nearly a month to get through.
28.1.14
Echo is 1!
As I was making this slideshow this morning, I realized how fast this last year had gone. Echo has gone from being a small, tempest-in-a-teacup, bitey puppy creature to a dog who loves her family and apologizes when she bites. She's still small, and she still has a temper. We've got some work to do :)
We love you, Echo, and even though you've ruined the sleeves of my shirts and made me play countless rounds of fetch and made me take you on three walks a day just to get you to sleep, this slideshow thing is all for you, even though all you care about is the next treat.
Happy Birthday, Echo. Attagirl.
http://youtu.be/3zVTYW_ri5M
We love you, Echo, and even though you've ruined the sleeves of my shirts and made me play countless rounds of fetch and made me take you on three walks a day just to get you to sleep, this slideshow thing is all for you, even though all you care about is the next treat.
Happy Birthday, Echo. Attagirl.
http://youtu.be/3zVTYW_ri5M
15.1.14
Spectacular Ending. Can't Wait For the Next One!
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS
Miss Me?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWmEYq9oZxA
AHHHHHHHHHHHHIT'SMORIARTYRUNRUNRUN
So I finished Sherlock Series 3.
He Lives Again?
Certainly looks like it, although I am dying (pardon the pun) to know HOW you can have the back of your head blown off and still manage to turn up and say, "Miss Me?" and scare the tar off of people.
Sneaky bad guy.
I've come up with three theories on that (and DO not say, oh, here she goes again. I am not going again. No. These are options.)
1. He was never really dead and that really is him.
2. He is dead and someone's impersonating him now (unlikely given that bit at the end of the credits-EEP.)
3. He was never Moriarty and he was impersonating him and is dead, but now the real Moriarty decided it was high time to bring back his false persona.
Honestly, it could be any one of them, but I like 1 because it's simplest of all. Not the only one up on the roof faking our deaths last year, eh, Sherlock?
We might only have to wait a six months/a year for the next one-they're already talking release dates for Series 4 (thank the Mofftiss gods for that. Nothing like being the Fandom Who Waited Not-As-Long-This-Time.)
There's not a lot to be pondered on at the end of this one. Moriarty's sudden return (conveniently after Ick-Boy Magnusson was out of the way (pee on Sherlock's fireplace/steal his olives/stick your fingers in his water glass)) and it gets you a bullet in the head from the man himself. Deserved what he got. No one steals olives unless they want certain death.
SPOILERS
Miss Me?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWmEYq9oZxA
AHHHHHHHHHHHHIT'SMORIARTYRUNRUNRUN
So I finished Sherlock Series 3.
He Lives Again?
Certainly looks like it, although I am dying (pardon the pun) to know HOW you can have the back of your head blown off and still manage to turn up and say, "Miss Me?" and scare the tar off of people.
Sneaky bad guy.
I've come up with three theories on that (and DO not say, oh, here she goes again. I am not going again. No. These are options.)
1. He was never really dead and that really is him.
2. He is dead and someone's impersonating him now (unlikely given that bit at the end of the credits-EEP.)
3. He was never Moriarty and he was impersonating him and is dead, but now the real Moriarty decided it was high time to bring back his false persona.
Honestly, it could be any one of them, but I like 1 because it's simplest of all. Not the only one up on the roof faking our deaths last year, eh, Sherlock?
We might only have to wait a six months/a year for the next one-they're already talking release dates for Series 4 (thank the Mofftiss gods for that. Nothing like being the Fandom Who Waited Not-As-Long-This-Time.)
There's not a lot to be pondered on at the end of this one. Moriarty's sudden return (conveniently after Ick-Boy Magnusson was out of the way (pee on Sherlock's fireplace/steal his olives/stick your fingers in his water glass)) and it gets you a bullet in the head from the man himself. Deserved what he got. No one steals olives unless they want certain death.
3.1.14
Nice One, Guys
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
How He Did It (I think. There were two other theories that were absolute rubbish so this one is the one I'd go with. REALLY? Moriarty and Sherlock getting it on up on the rooftop? Sherlock swinging through a glass window and dramatically laying a Bond-level smacker on Molly? Now they're playing with us.)
Mycroft fed Moriarty information. The Holmes brothers played him like a violin.
So I was right on that one.
Those were Sherlock/Mycroft's people on the ground.
John got hit by a well-placed bike messenger.
Those I had right.
However, Sherlock landed on a mattress. No ponticum. The crew on the ground carted off the mattress just as John made it around the corner and Sherlock was there, lying on the ground in a heap, make-upped to the nines. Sherlock deftly places the squash ball, which I shot down only because I didn't think he would do it lying on the pavement, right where it cuts off the pulse and so John would think he was dead.
So much for nine pages of theory. I had maybe half of one right.
Sigh.
Anyway, if we ever get the actual truth, I'll let you know.
Ta,
Bec
SPOILERS!
SPOILERS!
How He Did It (I think. There were two other theories that were absolute rubbish so this one is the one I'd go with. REALLY? Moriarty and Sherlock getting it on up on the rooftop? Sherlock swinging through a glass window and dramatically laying a Bond-level smacker on Molly? Now they're playing with us.)
Mycroft fed Moriarty information. The Holmes brothers played him like a violin.
So I was right on that one.
Those were Sherlock/Mycroft's people on the ground.
John got hit by a well-placed bike messenger.
Those I had right.
However, Sherlock landed on a mattress. No ponticum. The crew on the ground carted off the mattress just as John made it around the corner and Sherlock was there, lying on the ground in a heap, make-upped to the nines. Sherlock deftly places the squash ball, which I shot down only because I didn't think he would do it lying on the pavement, right where it cuts off the pulse and so John would think he was dead.
So much for nine pages of theory. I had maybe half of one right.
Sigh.
Anyway, if we ever get the actual truth, I'll let you know.
Ta,
Bec
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)