Sunday, December 19, 2010
This morning, though, I woke up with a raging motherfucking arthritis flare. I can barely walk and there isn't a single position that feels comfortable or pain free. It's some bullshit, yo! I'm taking massive doses of NSAIDs and Tramadol and from time to time Vicodin and it's still agony. Makes it hard to think about Christmas and Santa and all that bullshit.
The only thing that's helping at all is singing this song at the top of my lungs, I don't know why...maybe it's the beat, which is truly groovy...or maybe it's yelling "Fuck You" at the top of my lungs.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
My life is so full these days. The midget, school, family, doctor's appointments...it's a whirlwind. I'm supposed to be doing homework right now and instead I'm hopping around the interwebs like a squirrel on crack and listening to music with my younger sis.
I'm posting this song because it popped up on my iPod and I was struck again with the message. It's so totally how I feel about love and relationships. It's unfortunate that being honest and saying I don't use words like "forever" and "only" in reference to love means that I have spent years defending my decisions to never get married, or promise monogamy.
One of the exgirlfriend's many complaints about me was that I refused to get married. I never promised her forever, and that was wrong to her. The irony? She promised forever, and then left. I always took her promises with a grain of salt, because I think everyone wants to believe in forever, and think it's going to happen. I don't think she made the promises knowing that someday we would not be together. The things I've been through have taught me that your entire universe can change with no notice whatsoever. Everything you know and believe is ever evolving and adaptable. It is easy to say that you will love forever, but the reality of loving forever means that you love when the shit hits the fan, and that's so much easier said than done. It takes guts to stick it out when life hands you a crap hand, as it often does. It takes more strength than I have to love someone when you find out your vision of that person is very different from who she really is inside.
So, if you can't promise forever, does that mean that there's no point to loving at all? If you're more cynical than I am, then I suppose the answer is yes, but for me love is always valuable, even love that has an expiration date. I am a better person for loving the people I have loved in my life. And, frankly, just because someone you love stops being who you thought she was, that doesn't mean the love goes away, it just becomes something else. If you throw away everything you've learned and been because the love turns out to be something different than you envisioned, you're robbing yourself of all the glorious beauty life offers.
Anyway, this song always makes me think of people I've loved in my life, makes me wish that my "love you today" philosophy was better understood, and shared by more people.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
This was the post that started it all. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. I spent the rest of that day reading through her archives and have been hooked since. Jenny, The Bloggess, is an amazingly funny, brilliant and irreverent writer. She has a beautiful soul, and a gorgeous smile. I love this woman. If it wouldn't require so much time and energy (since she lives in Texas of all the godforsaken places) I would totally stalk her. Though, since she's not a social butterfly and has a tendency to hide in bathrooms, it probably wouldn't be so difficult, come to think of it.
Anyway, since I'm doing my best to stalk her in the only ways available to me at the moment, I was totally on it when she made a Twitter request for favorite blog posts about Victor,
If you are unfamiliar with her blog, go there now and fall in love, and share her with all of your friends and family. Friends and family who can take a joke, because amongst some of her more memorable jokes are things like dead kitten mittens for the homeless. She also has an advice column and a sex column, both of which are equally hilarious.
Well, what the fuck are you still doing on this rinky dink little blog...go...spend the whole day reading The Bloggess' archives and fall in love.
Ahem...where was I? Oh, ER...that's right.
So, I awoke this morning feeling like roadkill, and not even fresh roadkill, more like two day old roadkill. Upon entering the bathroom and inspecting myself in the mirror (which, I now admit was a really bad idea) I noticed that apparently someone had filled me up like a water balloon while I was sleeping. My entire self was puffy...it was not pretty.
I noticed right off the bat that my hands were in more pain than usual and the knee pain...well, if I tell you that it took me about five minutes to get up the courage to stand up, would that give you an idea of how much pain I was in? Not pretty.
But, I'm a lone wolf these days...single caregiver of a Type 1 child. That means sticking it out as long as I can. I called and made an appointment with my doctor, but the earliest he could get me in was on Thursday and he didn't want to prescribe anything without seeing me. Fair enough, but I was in motherfucking pain.
Now, if you're new here, and you got here by googling "snake poo" you probably don't know (or care) that I have a host of health issues. The bottom line is that my immune system is a
What that means is that an infection...any infection...is going to fuck up my entire body. A normal person gets a cold and their immune system happily sends out little cold specific antibodies and that's that. My immune system goes haywire and while it fights the infection it also fights the healthy tissue. Like..."Hey, her bladder has bacteria and we should do something about that..and while we're at it, let's take out this tissue here, because it is totally time to remodel."
At about five this evening it became apparent that whatever was going on was going to need intervention, preferably intervention that involved a morphine drip and a bottomless margarita.
My regular doc (who is totally pissed at me because I've been very remiss in regards to my own health because of the midget's diabetes) was not going to do anything, so I called my cousin, and she came and drove the midget and I to the hospital where a very nice doctor took one look at me and said the most beautiful words a girl can hear.."would you like a pain shot while we wait for test results?" Um...does a motherfucking bear shit in the motherfucking woods? Hell yeah I want a pain shot...and can I get a couple in a doggie bag?
So, an hour and a bit of demerol later, the results came back that I'm suffering from a particularly nasty UTI (which, by the way, I had no symptoms of) and the resulting inflammation from my very over active immune system.
The nice doctor man, who at that was kind of fuzzy around the edges and who totally deserves some kick ass theme music...I'm thinking "Chariots of Fire"...gave me antibiotics and prednisone and percocet. I left the ER actually smiling and not in pain. I then went to Taco Bell and had the best motherfucking quesadilla ever.
It was decided by all present (meaning me, my cousin, the midget and my four year old niece) that it was probably not a great idea to send me home alone with the midget while I was hopped up on demerol, so I'm staying the night at my cousin's house and Charlie is totally fucking bent out of shape and keeps trying to get me to go home.
Of course, it doesn't mean that someone else is doing middle of the night checks for high blood sugars, no that's all me...but at least if she is high or low, there's another adult around who can supervise me and make sure I administer insulin, instead of say...vodka...which is also a clear liquid, but would be considerably harder to draw up into an insulin syringe...
Ah...it's 2am at last which means it's time to test the midget and then, hopefully, get some sleep. I sincerely hope this post makes sense...if not just disregard it, and I apologize for the five minutes of your life you wasted reading this. Five minutes that probably could have been better used watching internet porn or trolling Craigslist for meth or goats or hookers or some combination of the three...
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I am better. Happier. Just plain happy. I am strong again, for myself and for the midget. I am planning for a future that includes my family and my friends and the people I love so much who got me through those dark days.
Last night the midget had another of her breakdowns about missing the exgirlfriend. This after coming back from her dad's house and having had a similar breakdown in front of her dad. And I wish there was some way I could promise the midget that it won't hurt some day.
But, I can't. I lost a girlfriend, a lover, a friend...but she lost a parent, and I know how that feels, when you have a parent walk out on you. I know that for the rest of your life you wonder what you have done to make them stop loving you and what you could have done differently to make them love you.
I've spent years in therapy going over how it was never my fault, that my biodad bailing had nothing to do with me. I've discussed it with my friends, my new family...and I've even discussed it with my biodad. I know intellectually that it wasn't my fault...but, emotionally? Well, that's a whole other ball of wax. I know that so much of my self hatred comes from that feeling...that "how can anyone ever want me, when my own parents didn't?"
And I know it's different for the midget. She is surrounded by love daily. There has never been a moment in her life that she has been alone, or that she has doubted that she had people who loved her. But there is a part of me that asks...is this going to screw her up? Is this going to be the thing that breaks her so that she's constantly seeking approval from outside sources, like I am?
The hardest part for the midget is that the exgirlfriend is there peripherally. So, she sees the exgirlfriend for five minutes here and ten minutes there, but never alone and never in the parenting role. This is a woman she knew as her mother all of her fucking life, and now she gets to watch her be a parent to someone else's kid while she is pining for her mom. I could forgive the exgirlfriend for everything she did, the lies she's told the drama she caused...all of it. But, this? Watching my daughter go through her diagnosis and all of the hell she's gone through without her other mom? I can never forgive this.
I can only hope that my love, my family's love, her father's love will be enough for the midget. That she will be able to see and understand that the exgirlfriend's choices have absolutely nothing to do with her, but that instead the exgirlfriend is irretrievably broken in some deep way she cannot understand and I cannot explain. I can only hope that as the midget faces down the next few years of her life, arguably the most difficult years for any girl, that she doesn't internalize the exgirlfriend's choice to walk away as some sort of proof that she is not good enough, or that she is in some way undeserving of love.
I just wish there was a way that I could heal this for her and make it better, but I can't. I've tried. I've begged the exgirlfriend a million times to make time for the midget. I've offered to set up diabetes education so that she can have one on one time with the midget, and I've gotten no response. This is the one thing that never gets better.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
It's 1:30 in the morning, and we're having the worst diabetes week we've had since diagnosis. Insane blood glucose numbers, ever increasing insulin needs, ketone testing...and the endless blood sugar testing. My daughter is a pin cushion, and I hate myself each time I jam another needle into her skin, when she winces, but doesn't say anything, when it hurts badly enough that she says "Ow, that one hurt," it feels like razors cutting my heart to ribbons.
170 days since diagnosis. 170 days since I leaned against the wall in the hallway outside the emergency room and allowed myself the luxury of five minutes of tears. 170 days since I called the exgirlfriend and the midget's father in the middle of the night and told them to get to the hospital NOW! 170 days since I watched them strap my daughter to a gurney and load her into an ambulance. 170 days since I heard the term "PICU" and realized that's where my daughter was going. 170 days of trying to readjust to normal, and realize that nothing was ever going to be normal again.
170 means at least 700 finger pricks and 700 injections. And that's assuming that every day we only test four times and give four injections. Which never, ever happens. When she runs high, I give corrections, then check again to see if she's come down. When she runs low, I give sugar, then recheck to make sure she's gone back up. Not even six months in and she's had 1500 holes poked into her body.
I'm sitting here at 1:30 in the morning waiting for it to be 2am so that I can test her again, and then lay down and try to sleep, but I know that I will instead spend the rest of the night waking up every thirty minutes to make sure she hasn't gone low in her sleep, because she doesn't wake up when she goes low while sleeping, which could mean...I can't even bring myself to type the word, can't bring myself to use it in conjunction with my beautiful, precious daughter...but it would be bad, very bad.
On the other hand...when she runs high all night like she has all this week, I think about all that sugar in her blood, and the damage it's doing to her body, knowing that it's coating the blood vessels in her heart and her eyes and her kidneys, another layer of damage, bringing her that much closer irreparable harm. It sickens me, makes me physically ill, makes me want to scream and cry.
170 days of wishing that I could take her place for each finger stick and injection. 170 of wishing I could take away her diabetes. 170 of wishing there was a cure...
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Recent Events (in no special order, because that would require brain function I just don't have):
My Mom has been diagnosed with a Thymoma (tumor of the Thymus) and is now awaiting her appointment with the surgeon so they can cut open her chest and remove it.
The midget has been ill and has accordingly had the worst blood sugar readings she's had since diagnosis, including a meter reading which said HI...and yeah it said it all cheerful, like with big letters like it was an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Glucose meters are kind of assholey.
My younger sister had a birthday party at her house which I did not get to attend, due to the midget's illness and the havoc it's wreaking on it's illness.
I have been dealing with difficult blood sugar readings and am trying to complete three Excel spread sheets in four hours but due to my sleep deprivation, I keep surfing the web like a squirrel on crack.
Charlie erased about half of one the spreadsheets I was working on. Charlie's kind of an asshole sometimes...
I have become addicted to the show Veronica Mars three years after it was canceled thanks to the beauty that is Netflix.
I've discovered, through the aforementioned Veronica Mars addiction, a fantastic band called The Dandy Warhols and am currently obsessed with their music.
The midget's father has decided (finally) to go to AA and stop drinking. Said decision came the day after I spent an hour on Facebook chat trying to talk him down while I waited for the midget's blood sugar to drop under 400.
I didn't take my antidepressant for a day and I missed a dose of my thyroid med, too...and I was a total asshole for the subsequent two days, much to the dismay of everyone around me.
So, yeah...I'm kinda flailing here at the moment. I'm hoping this bug, whatever it is, that has the midget's numbers all wonky will resolve itself quickly.
Anyway, here's the song that got me hooked on The Dandy Warhols. You must love it, as I have loved it, and there will be joy.
See...I'm paraphrasing The Princess Bride. Clearly a sign of sleep deprivation.
We Used to be Friends-The Dandy Warhols
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I don't have the time and energy for a real post, so here's some music to while away a few moments.
I'm currently obsessed with this song and it's driving the midget crazy. But it's awesome!!
Brand New Key by Melanie
And this, too. Though the midget likes this one, so it doesn't bother her that it's on constant replay.
Secret by the Pierces
And last but by no means least...this one.
Love the Way You Lie by Eminem feat. Rhianna
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Anyway, she was not falling asleep, so I put a documentary on (Love that Netflix streaming on the Wii) and she was out in five minutes flat. I left it on for background noise while I trolled the message boards for parents of children with diabetes. Not trolled in the Craigslist sense of the word. I WAS NOT looking for hookers or meth or goats...I just wanted to talk to someone else who was also not sleeping because of diabetes (Damn you, Diabetes!!). But, I got sucked into the documentary.
It was the stuff of nightmares. "Jesus Camp" is a look at the complete and utter mindwashing that goes on amongst children in Evangelical churches. These kids are crying about their sins, having convulsions as "the spirit moves them" and speaking in tongues. It made me physically ill. Small children, who should be worrying about how much money the tooth fairy is going to leave them, are crying because they "sinned." They used a bad word or had a mean thought.
Now, I'm all for religious freedom. I'm not religious myself, but if someone else wants to have faith, and chooses to live his or her life according to that faith...Hey, knock yourself out. Your faith says you need to pick up the poisonous snakes to prove that you have faith?...Umm...okay, but I'll be over here out of reach of the fangs, 'kay?
However, this goes beyond having faith and teaching children about that faith and crosses the line into child abuse. Pulling kids out of schools so you can teach them that evolution is a "belief" while creationism is "fact" is simply wrong, but you have the freedom to do it. But when you start telling kids they are bad for having mean thoughts, that they are bad for thinking about sex, that they are bad for doing doing any number of things that are natural and normal parts of child development you are warping their fragile minds. You are teaching them to hate themselves at a fundamental level. A developing boy can no sooner stop thinking about his female friend's developing body than he can stop breathing. Human beings have natural, inherent behaviors and instincts and labeling them as wrong does nothing but set a child up for the worst kind of self-loathing imaginable.
And this movement, the movement aimed at these children, was designed with a purpose. The ministers themselves admit to designing this movement with the sole intention of "reclaiming our Christian nation." These are the children who are supposed to grow up, become our nation's leaders and lead the country into the path of light. Furthermore, these ministers make it clear they want these children trained, as the children of Islamic extremists and terrorists are trained, to fight and die for their faith. Even when there is no threat to their faith besides the fact that there are people in this world that don't have the same faith. They want all Americans to be Christian and to be Christian in their way, and frankly, they don't care about the children themselves, about what the price is for these children who will be raised being told that the world is this "one way" and then venture out into that world to find out that there is no "one way."
These people are making these children into fanatic Christian zombies. When the zombie apocalypse comes it's not going to be decaying corpses shambling after you craving your brain...it's going to be neatly dressed white kids in khakis and button down shirts...but they'll still be after your brain.
I'm investing in a sturdy helmet and reruns of The Family Guy. Hey, when the Christian zombies attack...at least I'll be safe on my mountain with dirty cartoons to fight the mind melting attacks of the Christian Right.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Which, reminds me...the other day, my sister-in-law was putting my niece to bed and said niece was being a complete pain in the ass, and my sister-in-law wanted to put her in time out, but the kid was already in bed, so she wasn't sure if she should get her out of bed just for a time out, so my precious angel niece looked her mother in the face and asked "Are you going to tape me to the wall like Auntie Laura always says?" It brought a tear to my eye when I heard that story, and also, since it involved no outside humiliation, I didn't have to apologize. Unlike last week when one of my nieces told my cousin B's friend that she was going to "Punch her in the face." I apologized for teaching my niece that particular phrase, but since the midget threatened to kick me in the taco last week, I don't know why B was so bent out of shape about the punch in the face thing.
Anyway...I was saying something, wasn't I? Oh, that's right...procrastination. So, yeah, big brunch birthday bash tomorrow and then an anniversary party for my aunt and uncle in the evening, so even though the assignment technically isn't due until 11PM tomorrow, there is clearly no way I'm going to be able to do it tomorrow, and sleep needs to happen because if sleep doesn't happen, I cannot be my usual sparkling self (as in I will not be threatening to punch people or kick them in the taco) and I might fall asleep in the middle of the pinata portion of tomorrow's agenda.
And if there's one thing I know when it comes to these kids and candy, it's that you need to be on your guard. And holy crap...whose idea was it to give these children candy in a game that involves a baseball bat...it's all going to end in tears...
Thursday, September 09, 2010
And secretly, deep inside me, there's a grouchy, shriveled shrew who is pissed off at this automatic agreement to do whatever anyone asks me. It makes me whiny and not at all attractive even to myself. I'm all "Boohoo...Why does everyone always want something from me." And I'm surly and as anyone who knows me can attest, if I don't want to do something, it either doesn't get done, or it gets done in the most half-assed fashion you can imagine. And I bitch about it the whole time.
This is not to say that there aren't times when I joyfully do things for people I love because I love them and I want the best for them. Because that happens. Sometimes. When the planets are alligned just so...
I was talking to my cousin (and friend) B the other day, and she asked me to do something, and though I didn't want to, didn't really have time to, and probably would have bailed at the last moment, anyway, I said yes. But I said it half-heartedly and she knew I didn't really mean it...so she yelled at me for saying yes. She was all, "Why didn't you just say no? Didn't you just spend hours bitching about how you're going to be assertive and say no? Grow a spine, woman." So, I said no. And the sky didn't fall. And she called me later to make sure I was okay, so obviously I didn't hurt our relationship any.
This week, the midget was visiting her father. And I had plans...plans which included staying in bed, resting and relaxing and not do anything for anyone, besides feeding my dogs and being their doorman. Which I did. And I am struggling with the guilt of it, because my other cousin called me about 50 times asking me for help with this or that or the other thing. And she's not a girl who can manage for herself. So not doing things for her feels like kicking a puppy. Except that doing things for her becomes drudgery and I build up boatloads of resentment. It gets so that I don't want to answer the phone when she calls, I just want to curl up in my bed with the blankets over my head and pretend like I'm not here.
It's a bad combination...a girl who can't do anything for herself and a girl who can't say no.
Which brings me to this...I love this song, it's on my iPod and I'm only half-joking when I say it's my theme song.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
He felt bad about it right away, and hung his head and everything...But...Charlie bit me. It was shocking. And slightly funny. Because I'm weird, and I maybe think a bit too much about our relationship, I couldn't get over the whole "Charlie bit me" thing...and it made me think of this video on Youtube that I saw a while back.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
School starts for me on Monday...I'm excited and nervous and hoping that nothing derails the semester. I won't bore you with the details, but I'm sure to be bringing you humorous anecdotes about the morons who inhabit online courses and their complete disregard for the rules of grammar...or, you know...you'll hear about it on your nightly news when I lose my shit and start shooting from the tallest building in town...which is, like, three whole stories tall...
Monday, August 02, 2010
I watched an episode of Whale Wars and then half an episode of Pit Boss, and when I started sobbing and cuddling my dogs and trying to figure out how to justify adopting a pit bull, I said...Um...Fuck this...and turned off the television and turned on my iPod and did dishes and some more unpacking and cleaning. I've since taken a sleeping pill and am now trying to shut my brain down with mindless facebook games.
However, while listening to my iPod and singing (screaming) really badly, I decided I really, really wanted to share this song with you, gentle reader. I think if I could just play this on an internal loop 24/7 I'd be so much easier to withstand...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
About a week ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Dee of Curvaceous Dee Twittered that a troll was lurking on her site. The comment the idiot left was ridiculously lame. So lame in fact, that I won't even bother to repeat it here. However, as I have more than a slight internet crush on Dee and I think she's fucking kickass, I was totally offended. And what happens when I get pissed? Other people shout, swear, ignore or laugh at idiots. I, however, pull out a dictionary and cut them to pieces with my favorite weapon...words.
Another thing you won't know about me unless you know me in real life is that I'm fiercely protective of people I love or admire. I once jumped into a lake to save the Archaeogoddess' sandal (true story)...even though of all the people on the boat I was the worst swimmer (still am) but the Archaeogoddess had stuck her finger in a cheese shredder and couldn't get her hand wet. Oh, and the sandal was totally floating so it wasn't even an emergency...but it was the Archaeogoddess' sandal for fuck sake! So, yes, even though I know that it's better to ignore the trolls, that feeding the trolls only encourages them, I let him (well, probably not him, since I doubt he returned to view the venom spewed in his direction) know in no uncertain terms what I thought of his comment, and idiots like him in general.
But that wasn't the best part...the best part is that Dee did a round up of the incident (because I wasn't her only reader to tell the troll to fuck off) and the ensuing reader comments in which she thanked each one of us for defending her loveliness. When mentioning my comment she said "Laura got all dictionary on his ass" which may be the most kickass description of my English fascism to date. I love it. It is totally going to be my new threat when someone pisses me off.
I highly recommend checking out Dee's site, though you should be warned that it's totally NSFW.
Also, I should totally get out more...
Sunday, July 25, 2010
It brought a tear to my eye...
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Anyway...the epiphany is this...No one can make me unhappy, unless I choose to let them. And that's the only power I have. That's it. I can either take your shit and let you treat me like crap and feel bad about myself, or I can love myself enough to say, you know what...Fuck you if you don't like me, if you think I'm too fat or too messy or too flighty. Whatever. That's your issue. It isn't mine, and I'm not going to take your issue on...Got it?
See, last night at about midnight I get an instant message from my cousin, who, from the magic that is Facebook, found her ex-fiance...the one that walked out and left her flat with no explanation, no goodbye....nothing. Just boom...gone. Well, turns out he's married, and she's cute and they look happy. My cousin, who I love dearly, is not a "glass half empty" person so much as she's a..."why is MY glass always empty" kind of person. As though everything in her life sucks and she's the only who has bad things happen.
Now, I love this girl, don't get me wrong. She's funny, and kind and generous and good...but she wallows a lot. I mean a lot...if something happens that's not what she wanted, she ignores all the good things in her life and says "Why does my life always suck? Why can't I have anything good?" Now, in fairness...she's a single mom, has some health issues and very little money (gosh, where have I heard that story before?), but on the other hand...she has an amazing family, a place to live, all of the necessities and quite a few luxuries...But she doesn't want to see that, she wants to focus on what's wrong. And I've been there...I've so been there. It's hard to drag yourself out of that place. It just sucks to be miserable all the time, and yes...it is a choice. Find a way to laugh, to inhabit your life so that when you look at what other people have, you don't ignore all that you have to wish for what you think they have.
Because that's the key isn't it? It's our perception. I told my cousin, yes, I'm sure they look happy in the pictures. Most people don't share the not so good times with the rest of the world. They want you to see the happy, everything's great moments, not the "my kid was up all night, and the dog peed on my only clean blanket and I got a flat tire" moments. Because we all have them, we just aren't interested in taking pictures. It's not a moment we want to keep.
Then tonight I was talking to another friend (that accommodating, picture taking friend, who we've decided to call Sam) and he was sort of having a wallowing kind of a moment, and I was totally on my soapbox with the same blunt realizations I'm giving myself and my cousin. And while I was chatting with him online, I was also watching a silly romantic comedy of the same theme...the "it's all in how you choose to see it" theme. It felt like the universe was just saying..."Yes, you idiot woman, you've finally got it."
Now, in fairness...there's a good chance I'm headed into a manic phase,and that in a week, I'll be all "boohoo, my life sucks" but I'm going to try and keep this centered in my mind, that it's all in the way you choose to live your life. If you've decided to be happy, and that nothing, not that flat tire or pissing dog or empty wallet, is going to ruin that happiness. And then maybe, just maybe...that'll be enough...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Happy HNT, everyone!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
There are big changes coming to my universe...the midget and I are striking out on our own..well, kinda. For a number of reasons I'd rather not explain, it just isn't working out living with my sister. So, we're headed back "up the hill" to the family's property (well, you know, assuming it's okay with my parents). I've been batting the idea around for awhile, and the midget's been begging for the move, so better to do it now, before school starts...you know, when it's eight million degrees outside.
So, given that the next few weeks will be all about moving and getting shit done, I doubt I'll be a good blogger, but I'm going to try like hell to at least continue with the HNT posts and a tidbit here and there...Onward...right?
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
First..this gem from Ace of Base...
And this fantastic anthem from Meredith Brooks...a long time favorite and theme song of mine...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I've tried to write this post three times in the last 17 hours, and I'm still having a hard time finding the words to convey how I'm feeling. I can't even find a song that says what I can't...
So, instead, I'm going to post this youtube video of the current audiobook that is amusing me and the midget, because it's made of awesome. It's also in keeping with the vampire theme I've got going on today, since the younger sister is taking the midget and me to see the new Twilight movie...Yay for sparkly vampires...
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I also used to get the weirdest looks when I told people that the exgirlfriend was not my best friend, that I have an amazing best friend who gets me and to whom I can tell anything and know that she will not judge me. She's like another piece of my soul. Not that I didn't love the exgirlfriend. I did. People would always say that I was being unfair to my girlfriend by having a best friend. Or people would assume that because I'm bisexual, the love I have for my best friend must be somehow romantic in nature. Which is just ridiculous.
Anyway..I never knew other women that had the same feeling. Until tonight when I read a fantastic post on Fuck Yeah, Motherhood and went "Holy Fuck! I'm not the only one."
This is the best part...Each word is something that resonates, that I could have written. I fucking love it!!
But it’s not enough. People want things that baffle me. Like girlfriends. And wives. And forever. I am now. I am “I love you”, not “I will always love you”. I am “I like being with you”, not “I’ll never leave you”. I am “Let’s go to the park today”, not “Let’s go to the Caribbean in March”. I am not a picket fence. I’m not even a key to your apartment. I am just me. I have seen always, forever, and never go south and I believe in only making promises I can keep. I don’t know if anyone will ever be able to accept my tiny bit of today without asking for a whole lot of tomorrow. That’s okay, though. I’m still sensational.
Friday, June 11, 2010
at least once or twice on this here blog thingie. We love each other. I'm not embarrassed to tell you that. Sure, other people have fulfilling relationships with human beings, but that rarely works out for me, so I'm sticking with this guy. He's cute, cuddly and jealously posessive. Not in a creepy "If I can't have you, no one can" kind of way, but in a really cute "I'm going chase away all the other dogs...and WTF, you got another dog?!?" kind of way. And only rarely does he change the channel when I'm watching the Discovery channel.
Now, just because I love him, that doesn't mean there isn't room for other dogs in my life. It's not like my obsession with Coke (no, not coke as in the white powder, but the brown carbonated stuff that comes in the red can, and No, I will not allow you to substitute Pepsi, what kind of girl do you think I am?), I love lots of dogs...I mean there's this guy:
And now, the newest member of my family...
This is Chewy. Chewy is a seven month old Chihuahua mix. He's actually not my dog, he's the midget's dog. Of course, that hasn't stopped me from stealing him and cuddling him and holding him and giving him kisses, much to the dismay of Charlie and Ellwood. They don't dislike him, not at all...they play with him and Ellwood lets him cuddle and everything. But, Ellwood and especially Charlie, are not thrilled about my affection for this little guy. They are of the opinion that two dogs ought to be quite enough for me, and they appear to feel that I should pretty much ignore the new puppy.
We're going to have a group therapy session next week...you know, so I can reassure them of the love I have for them, and we can talk about any other issues that may be lurking just beneath the surface of our happy home...like Ellwood's need to vomit on my bed at one in the morning...
Sunday, June 06, 2010
I spent the evening at the picnic with the family. Barely organized chaos it was, what with the youngest girl wanting to do everything the midget (who is 7 years older) did, while our middle girls tried to be brave enough to ride the carousel by themselves. The midget was amazingly patient with her youngest girl cousin, as she always is. She went on the "baby rides" with her and took her down the big slide about a dozen times and only whined a little about not being able to go on the big, scary rides because she didn't want to go by herself.
It really made me think about last year, and how far I've come since then. I was tying myself in knots over someone who wasn't worth the time and the effort and trying to be strong enough to parent by myself, giving the exgirlfriend far more credit than she deserved in terms of what she brought to the table. A year ago, I thought the worst had happened, but I've since learned better. What had happened was the best thing that could happen, it was just tied up with so much ugliness that I couldn't see how much better off the midget and I were without a woman who not only wasn't happy, but didn't want to be happy, and didn't want the life we lived. I keep thinking how hard it would have been to make it through the last two months with all that's happened with the midget and having the added burden of trying to tiptoe around the exgirlfriend.
I hate to use a cliche, but things happen for a reason. Every horrible, shitty thing that has happened in my life has made room for something better, made me strong enough to be the midget's mom and to parent on my own. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I'm holding our lives together and the midget's world is full of lots of love and laughter and family, and that's the only indicator of success I need...
Saturday, May 29, 2010
I keep coming back to the same question with this here blog thingy. Now, in my opinion, having a blog is a bit like having a memoir you publish whilst you are living it. You know, so you don't forget the good bits. (Unless, of course, you are like me and have and forget what you're doing in the time it takes to walk from one end of the house to the other, then you forget the good bits as you go, anyway.) There are problems with that theory, of course. Now, if you're like me and you have your very own anti-fan club, then anything you say will definitely be mangled and twisted into a weapon to use against you and those you love. Or there's the fact that while you may not have a problem with airing all your dirty laundry for the world to see, the people who are part of your daily life maybe don't want their lives exposed for all and sundry to see. And, of course, there are the readers who know you in the real world who maybe don't want to hear about your sexual exploits (hi, Mom) or see your naked pictures. But, dammit...You all (all two of my readers)have been warned many, many times...if you're still coming here, I refuse to be held responsible.
Why is this coming up again? Because for the first time in eight very long months, I've had sex. Glorious, uncomplicated, no strings sex. And it was awesome. It was exactly what I needed, without all the gory relationship crap that I really, really don't need. It reaffirms my belief that monogamous, committed relationships aren't for me. It was not awkward or weird and there are no expectations on either end. And you know what? I feel no guilt, no shame, no embarrassment. We both got exactly what we wanted out of the experience and said good night and went our separate ways.
I hesitated to say anything about it for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I don't want to answer a lot of questions about this person, because while I genuinely care for this person, it's not the kind of caring that's going to lead to any kind of a relationship type thing. Even if I was in a place emotionally or logistically to have a relationship, this just wouldn't be going there. And hell, I really don't even know if it's going to happen again, well with this person, I mean...because sex will be happening again. Eight months was too long, I can't see hanging up my...erm...bits and pieces...at the very, very young age of 33.
It was healing, and refreshing and goddammit, life-affirming. I am still here, still someone besides a mom, besides a sister or a cousin or a friend. I'm a woman in my own right, and proud of it. And walking around with a bit of a cat who ate the canary smirk this week....
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I hate this shit, I should mention. I hate looking my craziness full in the face and trying to make sense of it. I hate taking apart my mistakes to see the motivations behind them, and (big surprise) I hate admitting my mistakes. If I knew how to say...Hmmm..fucked up, okay, learn from it and move on, admitting my mistakes wouldn't be a problem. Because I don't mind admitting I'm a fuck up and a flake and a high strung nut case. I am all of those things, and I can say that easily and honestly without batting an eye. But the individual things that I have done, words I have said that hurt people, that sucks. Because I basically have two settings...Ignore and Obsess. So, either I put it out of my mind and act like it never happened, or I play it over and over in my mind, analyzing each and every second, thinking of all the things I could have, should have said or done instead. I torture myself and berate myself, and my worst enemy could not tear me down the way I do when I Obsess.
And, I hate having to be honest. Because in real life I'm rarely very honest about how I feel. I'm flippant and dismissive and sarcastic. Admitting that I'm sad or scared or lonely...I don't like to do that, but therapy doesn't work if you aren't honest.
In that vein...the honesty vein..I'm posting this video. It's one of my all time favorite songs, something that's been in constant rotation for years, off and on, and back on right now in a big way. The song is beautiful and amazing, but the video, with Robert Downey Jr. doing his hot, soulful broody thing, really just makes it. I wish I had written this song, it says everything...
Monday, May 17, 2010
Latest adventure in liberalism? Homeschooling. No, not denim prairie dress wearing, putting GOD back in the curriculum homeschooling, but instead, I'm going to fill my midget's brain with all my nutcase liberal ideas and then turn her loose on the conservatives..Mwuhahaha...
Actually, I'm just really tired of sending this kid to school all day and having her come home having learned very little. I'm tired of the fact that they spent an entire month on "Black History," but she can't name a single important leader in the Civil Rights movement. I'm frustrated with public education, that they don't read fantastic books like "Where the Red Fern Grows" or "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry" anymore. I'm literally nauseated at the idea of my 10 year old, type 1 diabetic midget with ADD in a classroom with 40 other kids and 1 (nope, not a typo...that's 1) teacher.
Now, since I'm a broke-ass bitch, I had to go with an online charter school for my curriculum. I've heard a lot of good and a lot of bad about online charter schools, but I've looked over the curriculum, and it's so much MORE than what she's been getting in her "normal" school, that even though it's exactly what I'd have chosen myself, it's close enough, and I'll have enough freedom that I can add some things that I need her to know. I won't have to "unteach" her the sanitized version of history they are teaching kids these days. Because that shit pisses me off.
It's a lot of work, I know. If I was that mom, the one that could just let it go, the burden of time and energy and the fact that the midget and I will be together all day long every damn day would send me running for the hills. But, I'm not that mom. I'm not interested in being that mom, 'cause I'm that liberal freak...
Monday, May 10, 2010
You know, I've spent years now listening to people tell me their stories about so-and-so, a friend of their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher who drank some magical fruit juice and cured whatever condition their mother-brother-father-aunt-cousin-firstgradeteacher had that I also have...And I thought I was frustrated with it before, but I've reached new depths of frustrations with the ignorance with which some people go through life, the way they repeat every insipid little snippet they ever hear. I've heard all the misinformation about my health issues and learned to smile and nod, but the mama bear in me has a hard time letting it go when someone insists they know what caused the midget's diabetes or that they heard of a "cure." And the one that gets me angriest is that she simply needs to cut out sugar and become more active and the diabetes will go away.
Now, admittedly, a month ago I didn't know a third or even a hundredth of what I know now, but I also knew that I didn't know it and would never presume to tell a parent of a child with a life threatening illness how to care for the disease, but some people think that a thirty second segment they half-assedly remember from a news program a month ago gives them the right to tell me that my daughter will be "fine." And that shit makes me want to stab them.
Let's get something clear here. Yes, I am aware that compared to even just 10 years ago, the treatment options for type 1 diabetes have improved exponentially. I know that the midget's prognosis is good, especially because we do understand the severity of the disease and all that it takes to treat it. But just because there are effective treatments, just because diabetes treatments have improved so much doesn't mean that it isn't scary as fuck to know that your child has a disease that can kill them. When you hold that tiny vial of insulin in your hand and realize that the smallest of mistakes can be fatal...that's scary, and no amount of patting me on my head changes that.
Still...I am grateful that she is doing as well as she is, that we caught things before it got so bad that her kidneys were damaged. I am grateful for my family who listens to me rant and rave about how unfair this all is. I am grateful for the doctors and nurses that have taught me so much in such a short time. And I'm grateful that my midget is strong and resilient and brave.
Gratitude aside...the fact is diabetes sucks...
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Thankfully, I tend to overreact rather than underreact, so I caught that something was wrong before she got seriously ill. Her numbers are high, and not at all under control and won't be for a few more weeks at least, but she's nowhere near as sick as she could be or as sick most kids are at diagnosis. She's the toughest, bravest, most amazing kid, and I'm so damn proud of her.
As a parent, it's damn important to trust that voice in the back of your head that says, "Hey, something's not right." Don't feel like a freak if you're worried about your kid and you want to get something checked out. It is so much better to be the neurotic Mom who worries too much than the Mom who wishes she'd listened to her gut...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Friday, April 09, 2010
"Who's still aching now/Who's tired of her own voice/Who's it weighing down/With no gift from time of said healing"
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
So, I know I missed a Thursday or two, but I have given it up...and here's this week picture. As you can see, I have exactly two skin colors to my name: white and red.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Now, go read what The Bloggess has to say. And say a little prayer to whatever powers you believe in for all the gay kids without Constance's ability to believe in herself and face down the people who are showering her with hatred. You know that there are kids who are gay, who don't know it, or can't admit it yet, attending that school, and likely attending the other prom, and the scars they will bear from this will never leave them.
And then...if you have time or money and are looking for a worthy cause to support...go here. Gay teens are at a higher risk of suicide than any other demographic.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Then, today...I see this tweet from the utterly fabulous Mistress Matisse that Anna Paquin has come out as bisexual. Okay, seriously? Between her and her costar (and fiance) Stephen Moyer, I may not be able to watch without hyperventilating.
I'm sort of amazed at the announcement, especially as she's not been a media whore kind of celebrity, and being engaged to a MAN, she didn't really have to acknowledge her orientation, not that anyone has to, but it wasn't like she had to hide her relationship.
I can't think of anyone other celebrity, with the exception of Sandra Bernhardt, who has made an announcement that they were bisexual, and it makes me very happy indeed. I've discussed before the difficulties inherent in being bisexual, how you belong fully to neither the gay or straight communities, and how you hear a lot of "Make up your mind" or "It's just a phase" or "You're a slut" kind of nonsense when you identify as bisexual.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
See, what I don't talk about a lot is that in addition to my myriad physical issues, I'm also bipolar. And when I'm manic and up and laughing and talking any my brain is working full speed ahead, it's awesome. But, when I'm not manic...well...not awesome doesn't remotely begin to cover it. And hypothyroidism, fibromyalgia, hormonal imbalances and bipolar disorder are like this evil gang of square dancers that have their choreography down to a science. Any one of them can trigger a flare in one or all of the others. But, when the physical stuff sucks, at least my brain still works and I can laugh and talk and still be, essentially, me. The depression, though...that's a whole other animal, and it weighs me down and turns me into a zombie, and suddenly I'll realize that three days have passed and I've been on autopilot.
I did too much this weekend. The weather was beautiful, the midget had a softball game, there was family stuff going on, my little sister who I miss dreadfully, was staying with me...it was good. And then my body said...Whoa, there...hold on...this is too much fun and too much activity and the hour you spent in the sun is going to combine with all of the energy expenditures and every cell in your body is going to scream in agony and breathing is going to become so exhausting that it makes you want to cry, and then when you try to sleep you're going to have a panic attack because you're having tachycardia. And all of that slams me into depression faster than you can imagine.
I don't like to talk about it much. It sucks and it's sad and it just drags people down. And that voice, that voice that I can't shut out, is really good at convincing me that I'm alone, a freak...that everyone else is normal and no one will understand, so why even bother trying to tell them about it. And so I hide in my house, cobbling together what little bit of energy I can muster so the midget gets to and from school and gets dinner and clean clothes and homework help, and I stagnate and cry and then...I start to feel a bit better. Maybe I don't hurt so much, or I get a little sleep. And then I'll read something on one of my favorite blogs...usually The Bloggess (someone who actually gets the depression/anxiety thing and laughs about it) or see a good show, find a good book...something...and I'll the depression lifts a bit. And then bit by bit, it gets brighter. For awhile.
I'm surfacing right now, and starting to recover. Thankfully it's only been a day or two this time. I still hurt and I'm still exhausted, but the depression is lifting, thankfully.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
I had been perusing food blogs, as I tend to do...if it's not food blogs, it's sex blogs...but that's another story, and perhaps another blog. I came across a recipe for breakfast pizza that looked interesting, except that having breakfast pizza would involve me being up early in the morning, which I had no intentions of doing since it is, after all, the midget's spring break and I am going to take every opportunity to sleep in.
So, instead we had pizza for lunch, and the only thing it had in common with the recipe that inspired me was bacon. I ended up with this lovely pizza....
First, I sprinkled some drained diced tomatoes, followed that up with feta cheese and Parmesan cheese. Then I broke out the artichoke hearts (YUM) and broke up the bacon I had just fried up and sprinkled that on, threw some more tomatoes on and added a bit more Parmesan cheese. Oh. My. God. So good. The only thing I think I'd change if I did it again is to add some diced garlic, because garlic makes everything better.
I had some left over bacon and there were these two dogs...well, could you resist this?
It would take a stronger woman than I to resist those faces...and they were so sweet about it...but, then the bacon got the better of Ellwood and he completely forgot his manners...
Charlie, however, behaved like a complete gentleman...
My dogs love that I can cook, too...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Now, normally, when the boys get a cookie, Charlie scarfs his on the spot, and Ellwood does a victory lap around the house, grunting all the way, and then settles down to gnaw on his. Today, for some reason, after his victory lap, Ellwood laid down and basked in the glory that was his cookie. Charlie, having already devoured his, came to investigate whether Ellwood had left any crumbs he could steal. When Charlie spied the while, uneaten cookie, he tried to steal it, which wasn't at all surprising. What was surprising was Ellwood's insistence that he wasn't giving up his cookie. Not only did he not just walk away from it, he actually barked. Barked. At Charlie. I'm not sure who was more shocked, me or Charlie. Charlie, attempted his theft again, and AGAIN Ellwood barked.
Charlie was so bewildered that he backed off and laid down on the floor below where I was sitting on the couch. Ellwood went back to loving his cookie. He eventually scarfed it down, but the two of them stayed like this for about a half an hour...
Charlie looks so forlorn. Who knew Ellwood knew how to stand up for himself?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
We had one day this week when the sun shone and it was 60 Fahrenheit. I reveled in it. The midget was at her softball clinic, so I grabbed my camera and headed outdoors. And though it was still vaguely chilly, the sun felt amazing...Of course, the sun didn't last long and we had snow (SNOW! AGAIN!) a few days later, but at least I had that one glorious day of sunshine.
This was my first time using my timer on my camera to take self portraits. It was tricky, and I got a lot of awkward face shots and being as ridiculously pale as I am, many of the pictures were pretty washed out.
I loved the way this one turned out, though...especially the sun on my hair. And though you can't see it, there's a horse in the tress trying to figure out what the strange human is doing...
Happy Thursday, everyone...And here's hoping the sun is shining in your corner of the universe!!
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
I finally got to meet this little angel...my newest "niece" (okay, okay, really she's my cousin's daughter, but as I've mentioned before, we don't make those distinctions).
Now, I'll admit, when I first heard, some 10 months ago, about this bebe's impending arrival, I did not exactly jump for joy. In fact, my first thoughts were colored by anger, by fear, and by a deep sorrow. I believed, and still kind of believe, that her mother, my beloved cousin, wasn't really in any position to be having this baby. She's older than I was, certainly, when I had my "whoops" that led to my precious little midget, but her life is a bit of a mess. Without going into too many details, it just wasn't a good situation, a sentiment shared by many in my family. So, while we're a close knit group and love children, we found it hard to get excited about this birth, and given that my cousin's pregnancy was high risk, we were all nervous about the outcome...so, unlike all our previous babies, we weren't excited, we just couldn't be...We wanted to be, but it just wasn't happening.
Time passed, as it inevitably does. We had a baby shower (which I missed, thank you FM). And this baby came early...and was tiny...She was in the hospital for several days due to her teeny size. She's been in and out of the hospital for the last two months, suffering from various ailments. She's still tiny, at two months, she's smaller than my midget was at birth, though, admittedly my midget was a giant baby, nearly 10 pounds.
Finally, finally...she was healthy enough to come and meet us, her crazy, extended family. And despite my fears for her mother, my concerns about her health, it was lovely and amazing to see the joy on her cousin's faces as they each took it in turn to hold her tiny body in their laps. It was joyful and funny and silly to watch as her cousin accidentally made her smack herself in the face, a precursor of things to come for the youngest in this horde of monster children, I fear.
So, though I am still nervous about the future for this baby, I am reminded that my situation, when my little midget was born, was not too promising, either, and yet, she is a lovely, amazing girl on the edge of teenage angst who has had a lovely, amazing life due to all the wonderful people who love her, namely of course, my insane extended family. And so, perhaps there is less to be worried about, and more to be happy about. Because, this certainly was a happy, happy day.
Welcome to the madhouse, sweet girl, we are so happy to meet you.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
It's a gorgeous sunny day. Okay, so it's only 60 degrees, but don't bother me with details. It's brightly sunny and I'm supposed to be doing my cooking chores...getting breakfast burritos made and frozen, making some challah, but all I can think about is the sunshine and the way the grass would feel on my bare toes. I am so ready for the end of winter. I'm ready for capri pants and sandals and tank tops...
I think I'm going to head outside with my camera and see if I can't get a good shot or two for my HNT post this week. Meanwhile...here's a little music, something that's in pretty much constant rotation on my iPod...
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Here's this week's HNT submission. I love, love, love these shoes. They're devilishly hard to walk in, but I'm definitely working on it. I've got another fabulous pair in hot pink that I'm wearing to my brother's wedding in May, but I like these better.
Monday, March 01, 2010
I'm also going to Target and Old Navy to buy clothes for the midget. She refuses to quit growing and doesn't seem to care that I'm too poor to replace her wardrobe every three months.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
So, the episode I'm watching is this one. This kid, Garrett Yazzie, who asked the show to help his family...this kid blows my mind. Not just because of the selflessness with which he devotes himself to his family, but because of the reason they decided to help the family.
You see, Garrett's family is Navajo and they live on the reservation, in a trailer that was falling down around their ears. They were heating their home with coal or wood, but his younger sister has asthma and the fire was making her sick. So, this kid, this junior high school kid goes out to the junk yard and with nothing but his hands, his brain and crap he finds in the junk yard...namely soda bottles and an old radiator...this kid builds a solar powered water-heater that also heats his house.
And this is where the "What the Fuck" comes in...because this kid...he's a kid, you know? A junior high school kid with no fucking education can build a solar powered heating system out of trash. We have fucking scientist and government agencies supposedly devoted to this shit, and it's "too expensive" and real change is "years away." It's fucking bullshit. If a teenage kid can do it, why the fuck can't our government get their shit together and figure it out?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
I am a recovered(ing?) bulimic. It's been awhile since I purged, but rarely a week goes by without the compulsion rearing it's ugly head. It's a compulsion like nothing else I've ever felt. But, now, there is always in my mind that beautiful young girl I'm raising, and the idea that I could relapse and she could find out about that relapse is a pretty decent defense. It gives me more strength than I'd ever have on my own. Because, you see, as a mother of a young girl, I am painfully aware of negative body image and the effect that media has on a young girl. I try really hard to make sure she knows that she's beautiful, that she's perfect the way she is. I try to help her love who she is and the body that contains who she is. But I am just one tiny voice, and the media is everywhere, telling her in subtle and blatant ways that she is not good enough, that she will never be good enough. And the idea that she could hate herself the way I have always hated myself sickens me in a way I cannot ever describe.
Just recently, she had an assignment for school and she had to do a project about her biggest hero. To my utter delight and surprise, she chose me. She wanted to talk about how smart I am and how I deal with being sick and how I'm still a good mom despite that. And, wow, nothing in the world makes you want to be a better person than the realization that your child admires you...you want to feel like you deserve that admiration. So, we had an evening where we went through my old Academic Decathlon stuff, and pictures of me and we talked about me. Which was...disconcerting. I mean, certain things I love to talk about, like Academic Decathlon, and my friends and things I like to read and basically anything dealing with my intelligence, of which I have an inordinate amount of pride (or vanity). But when she asked me why there are hardly any pictures of me, I had a hard time coming up with a good answer. How do you tell your child that you hate yourself? You can't. Not if you are a halfway sane and decent parent. So, I stuttered about and made excuses about always being the one taking the pictures, which she called me on because I never let her take my picture. So, I made some more lame excuses and changed the subject.
But, later on, and over the past few weeks, it's been gnawing at me. The best way to lead is by example, right? Because that whole "Do as I say, not as I do" thing is ridiculously ineffective. And I want to keep her respect, and being a hypocrite isn't the best way to do that, I think.
I was reading one of my favorite blogs last week, and the writer had posted her HNT picture. For those you who are unfamiliar with HNT, it stands for Half-Nekkid Thursday. You can read about it here. HNT is different things to different people. For some, it is an opportunity to let out their inner exhibitionist, for others, it's about the art and for still others it's about bravery. But, the basic idea is to celebrate the human body, in all it's wildly imperfect perfection. HNT is not pornography nor is it about sex, though, of course, given the subject matter, many HNT pictures are sexy or provocative. But, they can also be silly or sad, serious or light hearted.
I've been looking at HNT pictures for a long time, as I do truly admire the human body, and yeah, some of the bloggers I look at regularly I find attractive, but that's not why I keep reading their blogs. They have substance, or their pictures are beautifully artistic or they give good photography tips. So, I've been sort of ruminating and I've decided to begin HNT here on my blog. I'm hoping that by forcing myself to take pictures of myself, I will have to look at my body through different eyes. Not hating, loathing eyes, but objective eyes. I'm hoping to gain acceptance of myself, and then.....love...and wow, does that sound awfully corny to my cynical mind.
Obviously, I'm aware that since some of my readers (most, actually) know me in real life, this is sort of a pretty big minefield to navigate. Americans are incredibly prudish and while it's totally okay to look at pictures of people we don't know, looking at naked pictures of our friends and family members is a huge taboo. But, even though I'm embarking on this learn to love my body project, I'm not looking to change my basic personality, so you aren't going to see something vulgar or horrifying. I mean, my mother reads this blog, as do other family members, and there's a contingent who know about and read this blog in what I feel is an attempt to find things to use against me. So, while you're going to see more of me than you ever have, you're not going to be seeing anything R rated, let alone X rated.
I thought about starting a different blog, or just posting on one of the many sites that allows random posting of HNT pictures, but I rejected that idea almost immediately. First of all, I post here erratically enough as it is, splitting my posting energy between this blog and another blog is unrealistic and would lead to the demise of both pretty quickly. Secondly, starting a new blog would mean having a blog with zero readership, so there would be no accountability. And, I really think this is important for me. It will be good for me to in that making this commitment guarantees that I blog at least once a week, but I think it'll actually lead to me blogging more than that, because I'm going to not want it to be all about HNT, so I'm going to be forcing myself to blog on other days about other things.
I took this picture in bathroom mirror. My bathroom has the best lighting of any room in the house, and since I'm new to this, I wanted to keep it simple, so I didn't want to try to set up a scene and use the timer function on my camera, though another perk of this project is that it's going to push me to be a better photographer.
Without further ado...Welcome to the first edition of the Queen of the Universe's Half-Nekked Thursday...