Plus, public transit is so much better here than in Spokane. Granted, when we
leave the house, it's by car, because I can't yet walk to the nearest bus stop,
about nine, ten, blocks down the road--but many times we go downtown, find a
parking place, and then jump on light-rail and ride around for everything else.
Writing. I don't know if it's going to work out, but getting a job outside the
home is probably going to remain problematic for a few years yet. Though I am
back on my meds (and a ton of scary new ones), I'm still staggering about, far
more than I'd like to be.
(It is a little weird--I mean, part of what looks like a frightening pill
addiction are my herbal supplements: Gotu Kola for memory [we hope!],
Chondroitin for my joints, a Zinc/full B spectrum vitamin that's supposed to be
good for the skin and hair. I take one of each in the morning and one of each
in the evening. But in the morning I also add a derivative of Zantac, because
my doc's worried I might be developing ulcers; and I add Avandia, Yasmin and
Levoxyl, a thyroid medication, to my evening pills. Plus he's upped me on the
Avandia and the Levoxyl--up 4 mgs to 8 mgs on the Avandia, and up 25 mcg to 50
mcg on the Levoxyl. We'll see if it works. He says he could conceivably push
me to 100 mcgs, my thyroid is so low. Which is the main reason, he believes,
for the memory loss, the joint pain, and the weight. We'll see how it goes.)
So. I'm working on my first all-original story. Well, I really shouldn't say
that--I've been calling it my 'derivative sci-fi story', dismissively. Because
I'm broadly borrowing concepts from a dozen different cyberpunk novels I've
read in the course of a life, and tossing in obscure and not-so-obscure
references from a dozen other books I've read. Plus it's been heavily
influenced by Joss Whedon's 'Firefly', which you didn't see, but trust me, it's
there.
On the plus side? I'm pushing 45,000 words on my way to 46,000 words and I'm
over 86 pages. Typed just like this, in 10-point Times. Original. Not
slash. Not using anyone else's characters. It's mine, baby, all mine, and if
I do finish it, and it tracks the way I want it to…damn, I'm finding an agent
and seeing if I can get it published.
Weirdly enough, it started with a writing challenge I failed. 50,000 words in
30 days. Found on the NaNoWriMo site--http://www.nanowrimo.org--the
challenge goes like this (if I haven't mentioned this before): you don't start
writing until November 1st, you stop writing November 30th, and you win if you
get it done in time. You can post updates to the site, or a site of your own,
only if you want--the main thing is turning in what you have done for grading
at the end of the month. And by grading they don't mean reviewed for quality
or publishability--they mean, your electronic text file version of your
magnum opus will be checked via computer, and if you're over 50,000, you're in.
They expect a lot of people will fail--I, among many many others, did--and they
expect a lot of people are churning out crap, not novels. In fact, 50,000
words is really damn short for a novel. But what they're trying to get is the
maximum word length possible for the shortest day value possible. 50,000 is a
pretty low figure, all things considered.
The good news for me was that I didn't give up on the story. And now, at
almost five months later, I've gone up from my original 18,000 words to my
current 45,214. And I'm not done yet. As near as I can figure, I might have
another 30,000 words before this thing ties up. Could, in fact, take me clear
to November of this year (though I doubt that).
Friend of mine is going the professor route--she's currently looking at finding
a college to teach at, and she's just completed her degree--English literature
with a minor in womens' studies, so really, she shouldn't have that hard a time.
[JV], her husband, our friend, is pushing her towards Portland. We're pushing
her towards Portland. So, hopefully, they'll end up here, which would be
wonderful. Because we miss [JV] terribly, and we sort of miss his wife, and
we like [their daughter], when she isn't being crazed with ADHD.
I think it was a hard year on everyone, even though most of mine was personal.
But we're coming up on a year without my mom, which is kind of hard to ignore
as, within three feet of where I sit, is Mom in her little faux-paneled box.
Still creeps my cousin out. Don't quite know why. My aunt wants to scatter
her somewhere, which I'm for when she wants to do it, but in the meantime, for
reasons unknown, I get her. It’s a strange responsibility of a sort.
My condolences on your many losses. Almost seems like you're in the clan with
that report, you know--because we always die in threes. I was worried until
three or four months ago, when I heard that my late uncle's mother had died,
because until then, I really felt I was on the hook. Don't know why, but
death or serious accident has always hit my family in threes, within the memory
of the last two generations, at least.
Your eye stuph sounds terrifying, it really does. I have natural
photosensitivity, but mine's mostly skin-related (and, well, hormone-related--it
was barely noticeable in high school, and now, I go outside and flash-burn),
not eye-related. I'm imagining what I deal with now--living in a basement
because I can block off the light through the windows better, sometimes having
to wear a mask to bed because we have two blind strips missing from our bedroom
window blinds, lighting the bathroom with red chili lights because it's easier
on my eyes for the most part--and translating it to you, when last heard from
the boy that liked the sun. You know? I'm glad it's getting better,
but damn.
Thank you for your well wishes for my health, but I am determined to get
better. Attitude is half the battle, right there. My doctor remains amazed
that, at my current 389 pounds (which is less than I was! Whee!), I have good
blood pressure and fantastic cholesterol. He's pretty smart, and I mostly
trust him, but he's one of those doctors that equate fat with bad health. And,
yeah, I'm in appalling health, but it's not cholesterol-related.
There's not a way you can, you know, introduce flesh-eating slugs to your
neighbor's garden or something? What's wrong with your circle of friends?
Me, of course, I'm partial, but I can't imagine someone taking a dislike to
you. Unless it's the whole gay thing--as in, they're shocked and horrified
that the gentleman next door might actually kiss other men.
And, um, let me tentatively offer this--gardens can be regrown, can be
replanted. Sometimes that's the fun part. If you're that unhappy where you
are, move and do it all again. Change is necessary and some chaos is part of
the process.
On the other hand, you could retaliate in your own way. Point your speakers
out the windows and crank up the volume on the 1812 Overture and Japanese
opera. Throw flower petals on their doorstep. Bake them cookies.
Kill 'em with kindness, if nothing else has worked.
Unless you're past that point, in which case make friends with the local
police in your area, in case you need to call and yell for help.
Though your garden sounds perfectly beautiful.
And lonely sucks. Boy, do I know that. I still remember being lonely, and
feeling like I'd never have anyone of my own. My heart still hurts when I
think of our very dear local friend [An]. He plays violin in the Newport
Orchestra, he gardens, he worships the gods in his excessively gentle way, he
loves to travel and meet new people...and he can't find a mate. Here he is,
this wonderful person, and there's no one. It's truly sad.
I get the feeling my work-around for the family issue might not work for you.
Yes, true, I have my real-life family, what little there is left of it, and
mostly we can communicate, though in many cases it's just surface chatter.
But me? I adopt people. Sometimes whether they want me to or not. I think
you were the first, and it still startles my cousin when I talk about hearing
from my brother. Because she keeps thinking, but wait, [she] doesn't have a
brother, what the hell?
At the moment [the clan] comprises my existing family, but also contains a
family of five [lovely rebels], at least [JV] of [JV] and [EV] (the upcoming
professor I mentioned earlier), a young woman in Florida named [sa], a young
woman in Australia named [rn] (yeah, all lower case), a woman named [NS] in
Texas...you get the idea. Some of them know I've adopted them. Some don't.
But I have in every case. I feel they're all perfectly able to wear the
tartan of my clan should they ever choose. And, well, should I ever choose to
tell them.
Which is my way of surrounding myself with family.
Now, you do realize that part of your difficulty in finding companionable
companions is that you live in a city more renowned for parties than for
permanence, yes? Okay, as long as you know this. I felt the urge to point it
out.
'All the stars will go out when he is gone'...Yeah. We're living the
aftermath of that. For many in my family, my mother was the warm fire the
family clustered around. But unbeknownst to us, the one that really took us
all down was the death of my uncle, a year ago last October. Now I'm emailing
conspiracy theories to my aunt on occasion, because she's started to miss
hearing them. Funny how it irritated her when he was alive, but now it's a
way to keep the memory of him alive. She's completely sunk right now, my
aunt. Given up entirely. We're all waiting for her to bounce back, but...she
may be the next one to go. Just from sheer failure to thrive.
And then the cycle starts again. Ooolgh.
I'm beginning to pull out of my own death spiral of mood, which has taken
longer than I thought it would. I'm finding myself a far different person
than the one who went into the process of moving in September. The one on
this side is still not settled yet, but there have been changes. It remains
to be seen how deep the changes go.
And, five pages in of mostly babble and reaction, we get to the 9/11 thing.
Feel free to skip from here if you're not into the rant just yet. It gets
ranty.
Man...we are on such disparate sides of this issue. I honestly doubt I would r
un for water if I found Bush Jr. on fire. I dislike him to that extent.
Leaving aside the fact that I truly believe he bought his way through Harvard
and managed to find a way to ditch all combat experience--plus, was a cocaine
addict, a trait I don't like to encourage in presidential candidates--I believe
he's been one of the very worst presidents this country has ever had. I can't
envision ever voting for him. Leaving aside the fact that voting in primaries
means nothing, because we do not vote for presidents in this country. Elected
representatives which are always and only Republican and Democrat vote for us.
Our votes mean nothing and are not counted. We don't even have a public voting
system anymore--it's been privatized, completely. And the man who owns the
system? He's publicly stated he will do everything in his power to make sure
Bush gets elected for a second term.
Plus, we bought and paid for at least half of the debacle that was that
infamous September day. The Taliban? We trained them in infiltration
techniques. Al-Qaeda? We financed them. Osama was on our payroll. Why
people consistently blind themselves to these facts mystifies me. Our
arrogance and our refusal to face up to our actions overseas pulled the strike
down on us. Did those people in New York deserve to die? Hell, no. No one
deserves to be blown up and die in pain. But our government built this machine
of destruction, oiled it, filled it with fuel, and set it rolling down the
hill. Now we're bitching because it blew up in our face?
And let me add this--Afghanistan, while I felt we attacked them in an extremely
cowardly fashion, is almost understandable. Afghanis under Taliban rule are
suffering. And though bombing them back into the stone age again didn't help
the people of the country, it did--temporarily--remove the Taliban from power.
Even though they're back in power now, and apparently worse than ever.
Still, okay, more or less proper target, I can comprehend that.
But Iraq? Had nothing to do with the planes that fell from the sky. Had
nothing to do with the anthrax scares in the mail afterward. Had
nothing to do with any weapons of mass destruction. Why the hell
did we go over there? Because it was a way to one-up his dad--he was able to
track down Hussein and get him convicted of war crimes, when Bush Sr. was never
able to do so.
Spare me familial hubris, thanks.
And no, I don't hate them. I don't blame all of Islam as a religion on the
actions of a few loons, either. These were all militant arms of known
crackhead groups, nothing to do with the way the Islamic faith is worshipped,
by and large, in all the countries where it's the main religion. And what
happened to your conscientious objector status? From 'I feel I cannot in
conscience fight' to 'Let’s kill those bastards' because a few
buildings blew up? I can't wrap my head around that. I love you, but I don't
get it.
Besides, let's get back to the cowards thing. The names I'd have on my wall,
were I the type to commemorate such? The folks on the fourth plane. They a),
realized the idiots on board their plane were armed only with box-cutters, and
b), decided that if they were going down, they weren't going down in a
heavily populated area, and they took the terrorists out. Now those are my
kind of heroes.
Something else, as long as we're on the subject. It would be very, very easy
to kill a mass amount of Americans during Carnival. New Orleans is an open
port, after all, much like Portland is (though our port leads only to a river).
But it will never happen. The reason the terrorists picked the Twin
Towers? Because something like thirty, forty films, maybe more, feature them
prominently, from Godspell to romances to thrillers, all the way down to
certain modern conspiracy films. People have postulated that Seattle is a
target, that San Francisco is a target, that Chicago, St. Louis, Denver,
Atlanta are targets, for various reasons. And these are all possibilities.
How’ver, the last run at us seemed to choose targets we as a people might
emotionally resonate with. We might emotionally resonate with Washington DC or
San Fran at this point, but New Orleans? Really, by most of the rest of the
country, seen as a home of music, good food, and freaks. Truly. It's not
considered a great place to threaten, by everything I've read.
Okay. Ranting mostly over. And I'm sorry we don’t agree on this issue.
Myself, not that my vote will count in the least, but I'm planning on voting
for Kucinich.
