God Jul. It's ok to take a break.

It's two days until the winter solstice (well, in the Northern hemisphere, anyway), and five days to Christmas Eve. Various cable channels are all about Christmas movies. Main streets in my city are lit with non-denominational decorations - white and multi-colored lights on various trees, big bright snowflakes hanging from streetlamps, evergreens in the public areas hold stars and winking bits of color.

Parking lots in shopping areas stay crowded until late. The frenzy of holiday grocery and gift shopping creates an anxious energy and a noticeable lack of "seasonal good will". Company, school, and extended family holiday doings take extra time out of schedules, increasing the frenetic pace right along with the feelings evoked (whether they be fun, obligation-stress, amusement, energizing excitement, love, or pure painful enduring).

Some folk utterly adore this time of year for exactly that frenetic pace, for seeing friends and family they haven't seen in a year, for the grand panoply of holiday shopping. Some folk feel the weight of all the social shenanigans, schedulus-interruptus, and the deepening darkness like a bone-crushing slab of obligation. And then, there are all the people along the spectrum between the two. 

Socially, "light" during the Solstice manifests with all the gift shopping, fancy dinners, exchanges of treats, decorating trees, lighting candles, and all the work/family parties that give a framework of community. Companionship. A way to battle the weight of the dark. It's the dark season, after all, and no matter which religion (if any) you claim as yours the theme of this week of the year is consistently a need for light.

It's ok to take a break from all the craziness if you need it. Use that lovely concept of hygge: relax just a little and think or read a book or watch a movie or just REST. Sleep extra to fend off the viruses all those adorable germ-carrying children carry around with them. Drink a little tea on the non-party days to counter all those awesome drinks. Spend some time sweating physically (outside, at the gym, with your romantic partner...whatever works) to burn off the excellent treats. Finding a little balance, saying no when you need to, is all ok. Really. Relaxing a little gives you an opportunity to catch your breath and stay healthy in all the ways.

The weeks around the longest night give us a pause in regularly scheduled days between the end of one year and the beginning of the next. Whether you enjoy or loathe this season for the solitude, for family gatherings, for parties and glitz, for gift giving and receiving, for the spectacle: it's a good time to consider what really matters to you and to your life. And what's been bothering you: those things you've pushed off for the superfun season's sake.

Shadows are so scary, aren't they? Creatures live there, in the dim corners of the room untouched by the Christmas Tree lights. Loneliness lurks there, among the deep quiet after the sun goes down. Seasonal depression reaches out from under the bed or the unlit closet. So much of the activity this time of year is attempting to drive the shadows away, but we learn over and over in our lives that facing those fears is the way to kill them. Eleanor Roosevelt said we should do one thing every day that scares us...and change of any kind is uncomfortable. I use this time of year for evaluating my shadows: which ones could be let go? Which ones should be embraced as a healthy part of me, or needs some help to heal and remove? What clutter can I clear? 

Thinking about what to push out and what to pull into your universe when the light returns after the 21st gives you time to toss out the garbage in your head and move forward, because starting on December 22nd the light will come back. The annual pause in time will give way to all the potential of the next year.

Isn't that what the whole New Year Resolution thing is all about?

Writing about Writing (WARNING! Han Pictures!)

Thank you, all of you who encouraged me to keep going. Honestly, my couple-week-hiatus wasn't a plea for attention or validation, nor was it to wonder whether the person in question was right: I KNOW he's wrong. That's not the point. HE'S not the point. Ultimately, that friendship was killed by an entirely different subject (after all, I may be pretty damn flexible and accepting, but there are a few topics on which I do not bend).

HE doesn't matter in terms of this blog, because ultimately it's my blog. If no one reads it at all, I'd still write it (which is the #1 reason the premise behind the comment was in error: I don't write to publish. I write for me. If I entertain or inspire argument/thought/reflection, well neat. But it's not my reason for writing).

I took a couple weeks to really think about where this blog started (with NO readers other than very occasionally my husband, who already knew all the stories) to where it is now, and what I want to do with it. I DO have a quick temper and at least enough bare minimum skills with words to cause harm if I'm not careful. I also have a responsibility to myself to balance editing (for the protection of subjects as well as for clear writing) and self-censorship.

Here's the deal, I originally intended this blog to be about my random silly life, and that's how it's going to remain.

That means some days, I'm feeling like this:

I am SO GODDAMN HAPPY!
 (That's right, my nephew Han is FUCKING ADORABLE. SUCK IT, Prince George!)

And some days, maybe not so much.


DUDE! I'm not sure WTF just happened, but I am SORELY unimpressed. STOP LAUGHING!
(In case you're wondering, his mom gave him the squeeze tube of baby food. OF COURSE he squeezed it...and was slightly horrified at the result. Or, at all of us laughing at him...)

I suppose the best way to put my final decisions on manipulation is: I see a clear difference between attempting to manipulate someone versus entertaining and/or openly influencing someone. I won't lie to get someone to do what I want them to do. I won't arrange situations and people to try to change the outcome.

But I WILL report when situations are funny as hell (or, as is often the case with me, utterly fucked up). And I won't hide when depression hits, or when I'm particularly emotional about something.

So yeah, I'm back.

Now, I'm off to put the Cone of Shame on Chewy. Sigh. One more week of this hell and my house goes back to normal. Just in time for Renaissance Festival to start.

I could do a whole series on THOSE dramas...after the Townhome Twits are finished. Next one tomorrow! 

I Am Not Resolute, Bitches!

I'm wholly unfunny this week, partially due to the chest cold from hell which forced me to not-sleep on the couch one night (as opposed to not-sleeping in bed) so Husband could get SOME shut-eye. He's back to work full time, and I'm currently unemployed, therefore in all fairness he needed sleep more than me.

I attempted to create a cohesive, real post out of the random bits of snark I'd collected, but Blogger ate my post. Asshole. So I'm starting over and screw any literary idealism.

• All the cold drugs I took did NOTHING for the goddamn cough, but they did make me dream of polar bears ripping my house apart while chasing me. I woke up just before they ate my head.
• I'm greatly unimpressed by my fucked up subconscious, which should've been dreaming about Gerard Butler naked instead of killer goddamned polar bears digging through my floor to eat my head. WTF??
• Chewy is now on notice that if he turns all Jess-a-cidal he'll quickly find himself turned into a rug. He responded with an adoring stare and snuggling, which I suspect is his sneaky ploy. 
• "Omnomnomnom" and all variations thereof should be banned. WHAT THE FUCK. This is the linguistic equivalent of chewing with your fucking mouth open in public. Ish. That is all.
• Lifetime-television-for-vaginas has a new show about BRA FITTINGS. Really Lifetime? Sigh. I'll admit there are certain times of the month when I need a little ridiculous drama, but BRA FITTINGS? Because being in fitting room with the hellish sallow light and magnifying glass mirrors isn't horrid enough.
• New Year's Resolutions. I am neither resolute NOR do I consider 1/1 the beginning of my year. Resolutions are often silly, shallow attempts to feel better after a month of alcohol and chocolate. I CELEBRATE my alcohol and chocolate overindulgence, and have no guilt.

HOWEVER. I do wish to grow and learn in general, because I'm not dead nor am I a zombie (SURPRISE, the apocalypse didn't happen) as of 12/22. Now I have maxed out credit cards, a trip to Timbuktu to plan, and that $200k loan from a dude called "Shorty" from that bar...shit...

It's possible cold meds are distracting and cause odd tangents.

Anyway...shit I've considered/worked on since November.

• Use a different curse word each week. I've had lazy in my linguistic abilities lately, and it's unacceptable to me to allow my vocabulary suffer from lack of imagination. Since I firmly believe cursing has its place, I need to work on expanding my usage from George Carlin's seven. (PS: Titts IS my husband's nickname, so I'm always amused.)
• This week: "fucktwat."
• Eleanor Roosevelt said "Do something that scares you every day." I'd love to say this is one of my goals, but let's be honest here: I'm FAR too lazy to attempt to do something EVERY DAY. 365 scary new things might make my brainpan implode.
•  I am, however, trying to say "yes" to opportunities more, particularly if they make me nervous. We'll see how those work out as they appear, and I recognize this is a way to encompass all possible goals into one bullet point. I'm a cunning linguist.
• So I got a gun for the holidays and am going to try to improve my target skills (my best shot so far was the crotch of the dude on the '80's bad guy paper target).
• I suppose I should include finding a job, since I'm currently unemployed (contract ended 12/31) and though my boss said an offer was coming I've yet to see it. But I'm fairly unconcerned at this point, and am having ROME and Lord of the Rings marathons.

 Since I've lost this post twice now, I'm quitting while I'm ahead and have fully-formed saved sentences.

Fucktwat. I may have to keep that one going an extra week, just because it makes me giggle every time.

My 250th Post Should Have Substance, right? (or, shit I'd do if Death was comin' to GET me)

But instead, I'm pirating from myself. So I have this really good friend who is mostly bored to death with what most people do for fun (strip clubs, TV, movies, the bar...) and likes to discuss deep shit. I mean Deep Shit: he persistently asks me hard questions. Not rocket-science or calculus or how to bake a Duff cake successfully...oh no. Not one query has been a random bit of trivia or fact I can just go look up...that'd be far too easy.

I mean hard like "what exactly does it mean to LOVE someone (for example, does Love include NEEDING someone, or do we get those mixed up)" and other sorts of philosophical and ethical issues that occasionally exhaust me. However, they've been fabulous distractions while Husband's been in the hospital, because honestly TV can only get a girl so far when she's lonely and bored at home late at night. Plus, late night TV fucking sucks donkey parts. Bo-Ring.

So...recently he posed the following: if I knew I was going to die "soon" what would I do and why? It's SORT of a bucket-list question, and sort of not...I mean, soon could be tomorrow or a month from now or a year from now, right? I suspect he was looking for how I prioritized them, but that's a different post.

• I would write, because it's a need I can't ignore (without harm to my brainpan).
• I'd read, because there's still so much I want to learn.
• I'd go back to Ireland. It's the only place I've ever been that truly felt like home the MOMENT I stepped off the ferry. I would take the people I love there so I could (selfishly) have everyone I love in the place I feel most whole.
• I would spend as much time touching the people I love as possible, because I'm not great at verbalizing but I AM good at cuddling and I want to be in their presence. While that could include sex it doesn't need to: sex is significantly better if there's love because of the intimacy that comes from love. So I wouldn't waste time fucking everything that moves, but sex as a physical expression of the love I feel for my beloved would be neat.
• I would swim in the ocean. Any ocean. I can spend entire vacations just sitting on the beach, listening: it both stirs and calms me. (Also, thank you Spellcheck for catching that I wrote "clams" instead of "calms" because seriously...that could've been awkward.) 
• I would cuddle with my dogs and ride horses more. I don't give the boys nearly enough of my time, love or attention, and they deserve it. 
• I would dance. I'm not a superstar bellydancer, and I loathe performing...I bellydance because it makes me feel powerfully female. That's rare and precious.  

Of course, thinking about all of this makes me wonder: if I knew when Death will knock on my door, would I tell anyone how much time I had left?

Would you?

 

If it's NOT "The Count of Monte Cristo" I have no freaking idea.

"We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it... Anyone can love 'because.' That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something 'despite.' To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect." -Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear


You should probably ignore this post. To be honest, I'm not certain I'm going to publish this post.

I don't recall which classic story ended in the perpetrator getting walled into a room forever. I thought it was The Count of Monte Cristo, but I'm likely incorrect. I just have a vivid mental image of him screaming through the tiny remaining open space as the final brick slides into place.  

That's where I am right now. Only I'm bricking myself into my own prison.  

Amidst all the horrific stress and terror of the past month, I've been desperately pushing down/aside/away other things that have cracked my foundations and left me on precarious footing. I locked it all away for a time, ignoring everything for weeks under the wave of fear and worry associated with the accident. Now that Husband is doing significantly better and I no longer wonder if he'll live, I'm getting to the point that if I DON'T let something out that last brick will slide into place. And I'll be trapped in self-imposed isolation.

Ultimately, the main drama will be resolved somehow or another, and it doesn't really matter what it was (because it will eventually be dealt with). What matters for this post is this: I'm a person with many acquaintances and very few real friends (by friends I don't mean people who consider me their friend: I mean people I'm willing to trust and lean on when I need them).

I don't trust easily or well, and I don't let many past those outer periphery "I know you and generally like you some" edges. When I discover someone isn't actually trustworthy in my moral code, fair or not, I purposefully withdraw from everyone. I bury everything deep under a pasted-on a positive attitude and keep going on the outside.

On the inside I'm slapped by shock, followed by incendiary overwhelming anger, followed by humiliation and despair...who hold red-hot pokers in their evil little hands and beat me as long as I let them. Those devious bastards insert and foster dark thoughts and invite anger back to the party, particularly when I'm alone at 3am.

And now I'm sorely tempted not to trust anyone again. I'm caught between "you never should've anyway" and "if you don't open up now and again you'll be alone."

I'm aware of the over-dramatic nature of my anxiety, pain and depression. I'm even aware that my moral code is harsher than most and likely an unfair standard, particularly in certain situations. I find this to be somewhat of a failing in my character, that opening up isn't often worth the risk to my heart. It's a part of me that's been under construction for quite some time as I try to keep myself from alienating people in general and be more...positive...about humans.

Husband keeps telling me how proud he is of me for dealing with everything that's going on and keeping it together, but all of that is an utter sham. I'm not and don't deserve any sort of praise here. I'm a brick or two away from being completely walled-in and emotionally frozen. I'm not suicidal. I'm just broken. I don't know what to do about it.

I put the quote about love at the top of this post to remind myself what I want to work toward: loving despite and including flaws. Even when I'm talking about my own.

They're not Resolutions. They're goals with loose morals.

Sometimes the ability for one person to do anything that will make a difference to someone 10,000 miles away is so overwhelmingly insurmountable that said person has to just hope. I know my last few posts were pretty irritated: I'm easily fired up by a few topics, and violence against women is one of my top three. Unfortunately, there truly isn't a damn thing I can do for the women in Afghanistan other than read the news, share, and support the troops. Since I find this frustrating, demoralizing, and depressing I'm working on getting better at creating some sort of boundary between my need to fix everything and the reality that I simply can't in many cases. I can, however, volunteer locally, and I plan to do so in 2012.

I didn't do "resolutions" per se this year, mostly because I'm out of practice. I used to set goals on 1/1 every year in a variety of areas: budget-wise, spiritually, physically, and creatively. I still sort of feel like I'm coming out of a two year fog after my time at my last job: it was so utterly soul-suckingly-exhausting, the idea that I can PLAN instead of living my life airport to airport still seems unreal.

But I DO have some pretty serious goals for 2012, just in case it IS the end. Haha. First, while I'm unemployed (and diligently looking, MN Unemployment), I'm finishing my book. The great and horrible thing about writing every day is that my sleepy creative mind is now WIDE AWAKE. Which means I have a list of other ideas swirling around in there that sometimes get in the way of finishing the novel I'm working on. Dammit!! It's awesome that I have another character forming AND a series of 2 or 4 in the works in my head, but this is ridiculous. I wish I had a professional writer to talk to so I could find out if this is something everyone deals with and how on earth they can focus on one when another insistent entity is knocking on the brainpan.

In the meantime I have to just work on getting it all out.