Rearing it's ugly head

So, a few weeks ago, my kids got a hold of my computer, and I have literally no fucking clue what they did to it.
All I know is one minute, it was working fine, screen on, no rainbow streaks, next, rainbow streaks and making like the video card was about to die.  So, I pounded on the top of the machine, and voila, magic, working computer again.  Having said that, occasionally the video card of doom and destruction comes back to misbehave and otherwise cause trouble.
My loyal readers all know that I am contemplating a divorce, and rather you are pro or con, I just need to write this out and allow myself time to process what I'm thinking about.  This will be awkward, because my husband is one of the 2 folks who subscribe to my blog.
Now does he actually read it, no, but he does subscribe... and I guess that's where the problems begin.

Paul and I have a relationship based on friendship.  That friendship is based on a couple of college pals who decided to hook up sometime after my separation from my ex, basically on a dare.  I say dare because people started spreading rumors well before Paul and I started sleeping together that we WERE sleeping together.  Now... if you figure everyone is already talking about it, you don't very well have and excuse to not follow through with it.  In my mind, I was going to lose custody of my child due to this rumor any how, I figured, meh.

In the time that Paul and I started living together, we got quite fond of one another.  We bought rats, settled down and occasionally took road trips to visit other friends in far off cities.
And he watched me go crazy for a bit after my ex and I finally divorced, after the abuse and didn't really bat an eyelash about any of it.

Every night, we'd sit down at about 9, I'd write my novel, and he'd sit and read as I wrote it.
and we'd have tea.  About midnight we'd roll off to bed in our separate rooms, or we would go over to White castle and grab some sliders before playing some video games.  We'd roll out of bed about 230p and head to our job at the student newspaper.  Sometimes we'd have to be up earlier to conduct interviews, or other things you do to prepare articles, but it wasn't terribly common.

I had decided to attempt to transfer to Northwestern.  But I just chickened out.

Then things got serious, but things were still good.  I have happy memories of waking up each day and having a new adventure with my best pal.
When he proposed to me, I wasn't shocked.  I was happy, I said yes.
We started to plan our wedding, then lo and behold I ended up pregnant.  Now, we had been trying to conceive, but figured we had a poor shot at it due to the meds Paul was on.
we kind of had a a shot gun wedding of sorts a few weeks before Ev was born, just to insure he could be covered by the insurance.

And things were still good, for a while.
Round about 07 is when things started to turn south.
I hit a bout of depression head on while pregnant with Dan.  Not getting out of bed for days at a time, having a homeless person shacked up in one of our rooms...  Sciatica so bad that I could not walk, not coping with anything.  Everyone kept saying "that baby is coming early." but just like Dan, not wanting to break the rules or upset anyone, he was right on time.  I was devastated Dan missed Christmas in 06, I remember crying a lot about it.  Meanwhile Paul was working overtime and stressed, and simply could not be made available.  He started getting migraines which we later found out were toothaches, we spent much time in the ER.  But, no seizures.
We managed to get the homeless lady to move, we hoped it was a nice place for her, but still... you know, family always comes first in these matters.
I had to beg Paul to come home the day of labor.  One of his co-workers, (and a friend of our family) said he practically had to drag him out of the store.
He got home, and he and I waited... and finally at about 3 in the morning on 1/6/07, there was Dan.  The midwife had a migraine that night, and Dan was a very modest boy, so for the first several minutes of his life, he was Kathleen.  Poor guy...

Paul stayed home from work the entire week to take care of the new member of the family; and promptly spend 90% of his time on hockey forums, even during midwife visits.  The midwives tried to engage him in conversation, but to no avail, he only wanted to type and retype the stats which were so familiar from his childhood.  At first, I was somewhat patient, I didn't like it, but I dealt with it.
Then, more and more of his time was spent there. He and I had a tradition then of sitting and playing world of warcraft together.  That was the only thing I could get him to quit the forums for.  And it was fun, and things were still somewhat ok, although I was admittedly annoyed.

Then, we moved from one place to another.  This was mid 07.  Paul at the same time moved to a new position at a different store.  I begged and pleaded with him not to take the position, but as his friends at work told me, he was forced into the position.
Then came the seizures.  2 in 2 weeks, unheard of for the past several years of Paul's life.  We took him to the ER, they put him on a drug, Keppra which caused him to be moodier than a 12 year old in puberty.
One minute, fine, next, psychotic rage.  Also, it was making his seizures worse.

And I begged his doc to take him off of the drug, she insisted this was the right tool for the job.  I thought she was the wrong tool for the job, but, the apathy began to kick in, and Paul showed no real interest in getting a new doctor.
Once he was off Keppra, the mood swings continued and got less and less severe, but still exist to this day.  He did not have these kind of severe mood swings to my knowledge before this drug was introduced, but his parents tell me at one point he was in psych ER, but for another much worse issue where he was hitting people.  He never hit anyone here... his brother, sure, but no one here, and my wall... yes, the wall...

So over this time he's become more and more apathetic in regard to his condition and his life.  The CPS case didn't really change that, but it did give me time away, and time for absence to make my heart grow fonder... or fungus... who knows.
At first, our days apart were spent on Yahoo talking to one another, then as time went on, he was on less and less... and I'd check the hockey forums and his activity on those forums became higher and higher.  To Paul's credit, he was severely fucked up at this point, and could hardly remember his name half of the time.  But he stopped logging into yahoo altogether, and there were entire weeks where I did not hear anything out of him because of our opposing schedules.

Then came the OMGWTF Surprise pregnancy....
Yeah.
We had sex maybe 2 or 3 times during this period, and somehow my stupid ass body decides, woo, this is a great time to get my dumb ass pregnant.  Fuck you, uterus, fuck you hard.
Paul and I are always very careful about sex, this is why up until that point we only had 2 kids, if we weren't we'd probably be in double digits by now.

Paul was able to be present for the birth, but he had to call his manager, who nearly had an aneurysm when Paul called off.  I was about ready to walk my crowning ass on over there and kick someone.  HARD, in the nuts, with a dull chainsaw.  This was right after my midwives had managed to calm me down enough to start concentrating on labor, they were mad this guy had nearly set us back another half an hour...
They were tired, had been here all night...

The first few weeks of caring for a newborn without a Daddy in the house were... hard.  excruciatingly hard. When Daddy could not be reached on Yahoo at all anymore... that became a real issue.  So, I tried to get him on diablo 2... which we both still had, but nada.  We met up on there once.
Then finally, Daddy was allowed to come home for real, 2 years after the whole ugly business started.
And things were okish for a while.  We didn't kill each other.
Then Paul lost his job, and he was unable to function.... and I gave him time, and more time... and the house got dirtier.  Right now, my house looks like a tornado came through it.  The dishes are done, but only after I went into a Hulk induced dish doing session, which I left in the middle of, Paul picked up where I left off but...
I'm calm.  But lost... I've lost my best friend... to depression?  To keppra?  Seizures?

I don't know, but he's not here anymore... and I just don't know if I can handle the way things are.
I do everything, and the things I don't do, detailed instructions must be left.  Although his wit is here, his intelligence is lacking, the banter we once enjoyed is gone.

Maybe it is I who has changed?  Maybe I just grew up...

Two songs that I've had on repeat all day:

Nobody loves you like me, Lyrics, Jonathan Coulton

Nobody loves you like me, video

Still fighting it, Ben Folds lyric video

The winter of our discontent

So, I took a break from writing.  A long one...
Don't get me wrong, I am still writing at work, just the usual "this stuff is broken, and I fixed it this way." but nothing significant.
The stresses of life in general have gotten to me.
Aside from the depression of Paul's that has been constant for almost a year now, I've found myself battling my own, and in some cases actually allowing the depression to continue.
I've taken up smoking and a nocturnal life style which is counterproductive when considering that my husband is also on a nocturnal schedule and my kids are decidedly diurnal.
Also, I have a huge case of writer's block in regard to anything even pseudo productive.
So, my novels sit undone, or in a completed but not edited state.

Meanwhile, I've been doing some editing on a friend's work.  (which can be purchased at the following link:Demonic and Other Tales: The Short Fiction of Garon Cockrell

So yes, the children...

Tabbers has been having Febrile seizures, which for those who do not know are seizures brought on by spiking fever.  He has had one that I know of for sure, and another which I only suspect as I was not present for the seizure itself, just the after effects.  In a toddler, the "post-ictal state is a screaming fit a half an hour long as the child becomes again re acclimated to the world.  When Paul has these, he's simply non verbal, but wildly wide eyed. The best way to describe this state to those who do not know is this: Imagine you have landed on a strange planet where everything is completely different than your frame of reference.  The language is different, social queues are different, the smells, sounds and most of all the people are different.  To us, everything is the same, to the person who had the seizure, it's like Mars but the B movie sci fi Mars we remember from the 50s.
So yes, a toddler is going to scream bloody murder because he doesn't understand.

Dan, (who is the next oldest child) just turned five and decided to tell me on the way back from his yearly physical that he wants to be a sister, and not a brother, as he put it.  Now, I had just read this article in the Daily Mail about twin boys; one of which becomes a girl due to hormone blocking at the age of 10.
I want my little Dan to be happy, and I like to think I'm as open minded as one can get, but the whole thought of losing my little boy...  It frightens me.  As much as I bitch about the sausage fest and a half that my house has become, I just don't think I could deal with more than one girl. Obviously, not making any rash decisions about it; I think every child idly wishes they could be the opposite sex at some point in their life.
I thought back to my pregnancy with Dan, and how I was a hormonal wreck and that I was absolutely sure that he was going to be a girl. Even for the first hour of his life, we thought he was female, (the midwife had an awful migraine and all of us, being a bit distracted, didn't notice he was holding his legs together as though his life depended on it.)  In fact, we called him Kathleen for the first hour of his life, and had to call my mother in law frantically to explain where we went wrong.  (let me tell you, that woman is one of the few in life who NEEDS call waiting, especially if there's a new baby involved!!)  So, I've been mulling that over.  I remember Evan going through a similar phase at 5, however.  So, again, just a "what do I make of this and where do I stand." sort of hypothetical question.  I must mention ethics and I are not... how to say... Friends.


Evan was diagnosed with Aspberger's disorder, and the U of M never got around to letting me know due to a computer error, (not a common one, but common enough that when the Doctor received my call 10 months after testing had been completed, the receptionist informed her this does happen.
They suggested getting Evan into play groups for other children like himself, and I of course considered it.  However, Paul has the same disorder, was never in a playgroup and had to learn the hard way.  I think he ended up turning out better for it.  To some folks, Aspie's do not seem so strange.  So, I'm waiting and seeing about that one, too.

Lily is still the pinnacle of popularity at her school, or so she tells me.  She was on the swim team, where they completed the season with a win.  She was very committed to doing well on the swim team, she wasn't drinking pop and she was eating a healthy diet, she even managed to drop a few pounds, (she's not heavy to begin with!)  She can't seem to go through a week without some sort of world collapsing drama; however being twelve, the world IS a world collapsing drama.  I remember 12 well; I hated every minute of it.  I was a stand out, and everyone knew it.  Lily is either fibbing so that I do not worry, or a complete polar opposite of myself and her Father, (her father is my ex, NOT Paul.)  Lily's Father was always awkward in school as well.  So, I must ask in earnest: WHO IS THIS KID AND WHAT DID SHE DO WITH MY DAUGHTER?
Well, I've already been up an hour later than I intended to be.  Hopefully, if all goes well I'll manage to get some more written next week around this time,  If I don't see you until then, be well and have a good week.

I shouldn't be writing right now

Today was the baby shower of my best friend from high school.  I saw her probably five minutes total, and I regret that there wasn't more time.  At the same time, I am starting to understand now why everything happens in its own time.

We make these connections throughout our lives, sometimes they reoccur like themes.  Life is pattern, pattern is life, and we go through these cycles...  Sometimes we evolve, sometimes we run our heads into walls.  Sometimes patterns lead us to other places with the same people we've known seemingly all of our lives.

This week I had the pleasure of editing a friend's book, also attempting to complete the blanket I'm making for the baby.  I failed in the blanket, but in the book I feel I succeeded.  I felt a closeness with this individual I haven't felt in a long while.  He's on his way up the ladder.

And I've been his cheerleader for ages now, I was the one small voice that the Muppets talk about, before all of the other voices chimed in.  

and I find myself thinking about how in a few short years I'll find myself cheer-leading my own children, invested from moment one.  And I think of my childhood best friend, Kristine is her name.  How she will experience that feeling for the first time in just a few weeks.

I remember her, when we were children, would scarcely say a word.  She said she didn't have anything to say, she was too shy, and I helped her find her voice.  

I believe in everyone else, but myself.  I've no reason to believe.  I've never done a single wonderful noteworthy thing in my life other than mind my children, people believe something else of me for a while, then they realize I'm something of a poser. When will the kids see that I'm a poser?

When will this depression just go the fuck away already?  

I'm going to bed.

Tracking my muse

I've been spending some down time recently.  I'm not entirely certain it's by choice.

SARK (www.planetsark.com) speaks about micromovements, and how a person who is easily discouraged can encourage themselves by making micromovements. For example, if you need to clean your closet, which has long, for years even, been neglected, one way to tackle it is just by brute force.
Another way, is by micromovements.

Day 1, open the closet door.

Day 2, pull out 5 pairs of shoes and look at them

et cetera and so on until the huge job is done.
(for more details see here)

Then I was listening to the "Radio Lab" Podcast entitled "Help!" where one writer/doctor literally threatened himself with suicide if he didn't complete the book he was trying to write in 10 days time.

I was also reminded of the above picture, which a friend posted on Facebook.  (originally posted by Jim Chines)

And it's true!  It's very strange how motivation works.
With me, I rarely have a lack of motivation, that is, until recently.  Recently motivating me has been a similar exercise to trying to squeeze kielbasa through a drinking straw without the aid of a blender.

I've had passing conversations with my friend, he says it's very hard to motivate himself to straighten up the house when he sees his girlfriend on the computer relaxing after a hard day at work, and how it's frustrating for him to keep on keeping on with the work that needs to be done.

Recently, my husband has been my mirror, whenever I'm on a computer, he is.  This explains my lack of a presence on social networks, only bare minimums of bills being paid, and an amount of stress and frustration that is simply unparalleled!
Paul struggles a bit with internet addiction, I'm sure he doesn't mind me talking about it.  Once he gets on a hockey forum, or starts interacting online with folks whom he shares an interest, he simply loses track of time.  It's not uncommon for him to come to bed at 3 or 4 in the morning if I don't force him to come to bed with me.
Some may say I am micromanaging him to ask him to come to bed, but there's more to the story.  Paul has epilepsy, and the kind that's aggravated by both stress and lack of sleep, he's hasn't been seizure free for more than 6 months in almost 5 years now.    This means, that I have been the sole driver in a family of four for almost 5 years running.  I'm SO SICK of driving EVERYWHERE.  Sometimes a gal just wants to write, or knit or do something OTHER than drive when headed to somewhere.  We won't even go into the amount of speeding tickets I've gotten over time.  (My running theory on that is, and still will remain that I am on the road more than most people so I therefore get more speeding tickets.  Law of averages.  Come on, someone provide me some statistics and back me up here?)
Anyway, back to Paul, the constant arguing of a forum environment mixed with going to bed at 4 and waking up at 730 does not bode well with me.
I don't know what's so different between myself and him, I can (when I chose to) have amazing will power and be able to just walk away from anything I am doing, no matter how engaging I find the activity.  Paul, however... seems to lack this ability.  Telling me "just a second" constantly, then forgetting whatever request I've made, and still sitting at his computer 3 hours later.

Previous to the past month, I had made a conscious effort to not go on the computer when I was home.  When I wasn't on the computer, Paul wasn't.  When he did go on the computer, it was for a few minutes at a time to do normal computer tasks such as email and apply for jobs, (as the man is, although very talented still unemployed!)
But I went nearly crazy, I felt I never had any downtime.  I felt like I was running from place to place.  I got behind on bills, got behind on emails, felt like a failure.  The stress seemed to contribute to my catching a cold that the kids caught, so not only did I have to stay home from work to take care of them and get them to doctors visits, but I fell ill.

So, I gave in, I said "This one day, I will take care of everything I've neglected" and now, I'm on the computer at least a half an hour every day outside of work.

It's just strange how will power and the muse work.
I haven't felt inspired to write for a while now.  I've just been thinking, "My life is too boring" or "I'll write more when I have time." I have time every night, but I don't want to give Paul permission to slack off all night.

I have another friend who is trying to get a blog, Any blog, off the ground.  He's worked on and off on the same basic idea for a while now.  He's a master procrastinator.  Still, sometimes he'll sit and produce six months worth of work in 1 evening.  It just... baffles me how his muse will be hyper productive then abandon him for six months.  He has the drive and desire, but just... it fizzles out.

Yes, that's it.  His muse is GLaDOS. 

Poor bloke, if it were me, I would probably get a more violent muse, like the stick figure above.  This one will just passive aggressive him to death.  He'll never get cake!

There is a muse in this picture.

My muse is more like a ninja.  It ATTACKS, out of nowhere.

It'll lay in wait for months, or years, then suddenly...

ZOMG cute IN YOUR FACE,go ahead and TRY to resist writing me!

Yeah.  I can't resist it.  I have to write it right THEN.

This, adorable little ninja is of course an exaggeration.  Nothing THAT cute has ever come from my writing.

Hmm, the next book maybe?  The littlest ninja.  Cute, but can kill you in 19 ways in 2 minutes.

That's all for me.  Hope you find your Muse!

A sniveling mess

So, I've run into this opportunity at my child's school to become involved in a community theatre group They donate an obscene amount of money to the Ann Arbor Public Schools and the Rec and Ed foundation. It's a good cause, good people, you only have to pay $35 a school year to participate. For those of my readers who are not aware, I was active in the theater as a child. I was also active in the theater as a young woman in high school, I was involved in a creative and performing arts program through high school, (save the last semester.) I have been involved in workshops with the Royal Shakespeare Company, ran a war protest reading of Lysistrata, (which was, by the way an utter failure, but still fun). I have sang since I was 6 where I either performed Blues with my Father, Church Hymns (back when I was 6), I have been and intend to continue to be involved in an Acoustic rock band, "Tommy's Little Sister" (yes that IS me on the Vocals TYVM.) So, I'm somewhat talented, I have the want to help others... Especially when the others could very well be my own children. 

Can someone explain to the class why in the heck I'm not wanting to do this?
 Anyone?
Show of hands?

No, me either. But I don't. 

Sept. 11, 2011

I took a long look at my Facebook wall today, expecting tearful recounts, silent reflection. I found some of the above, but saw a lot of same old same old. Just another day now. At the same time, the souls of those who passed, maybe that's all they would have wanted? Just a quiet nod at the beginning of a day. Then a family, presumably yours or mine, climbing up a hill to have a picnic; reveling in life and the living of it.

For 10 years now, we've all been waiting for the world to return to normal. To not forget, per se, but to allow our wounds to heal and to transcend beyond this attack on American soil.

For 10 years now, I've said relatively nothing about my feelings on the matter, waiting for the right time to express, and express in a proper way.

And over the past few days I've been seeing this post on most social networks, post an American flag to prove that you did not forget.

I posted a picture of my daughter. WHY?

The day of the attacks for us, was like any other. My dear daughter almost 2 and I rose out of bed in Belleville Michigan, drove her father Bill to work, then came back home to watch TV until my next class, Pre-Calc. I'm not much of a mathematician but I did enjoy my Pre Calc course. The instructor was a real wonder and had a way of making alphabet soup make sense to even the densest individuals. Like me!
So, as we were watching TV, you would have thought I would have heard something. Lily and I watched PBS in the morning, so we had no idea what was going on.

Later, I popped a cassette into the car's cassette player, so to me, for a long time, September 11, 2001 was just another day.

I dropped Lily off at the FEB (Family Education Building, day care), then proceeded to class.

Then we got to Pre-Calc. Us students gathered, some wondered if there would be class today.
And I asked "why wouldn't there be?"
About 10 students asked in unison if I had been living under a rock. I informed them, "Well, yes I guess I have been."
And they told me, with a 19 year old's enthusiasm, of the attacks.
And I thought to myself of a few years previous, hearing about the bomb in the parking shelter underneath the WTC, and how although there was an explosion, nothing bad happened.
In his enthusiasm, the 19 year old didn't tell me about the deaths. I just assumed it was a grand mistake, just as the other attack was until our instructor entered the room.

She looked just awful. Tears running down her face. She brought the class to order.

She explained, VERY slowly, and while taking a lot of deep breaths, that she and her husband had known a lot of people at the Pentagon, and that she was concerned for their safety.
And although I do not really remember her name anymore, I do remember the pain etched on her face. The Fear, the LOSS.
And suddenly all of it became a little too real.
I felt awful for her. "If you need to compose yourself," I said, "I think everyone here would agree that we aren't going to hold it against you if you end class."
She said "NO. To my friends this was just another day at work, we need to go on as nothing has happened. Mourning can happen later, but for the dead we need to prove that we are still alive." (now this was 10 years ago, so I'm not sure the words were correct but this was the sentiment.)

And she took a deep breath and taught class. But she ended it a half an hour early.
I went to retrieve my daughter, I asked the workers if they had heard. Some had, some hadn't. I asked if I could use their telephone, (I did not have my own cell phone at this point) And I called the Brown's, (my in laws, then) who of course had been glued to their TV set, watching.

I also called Bill. He said yes, he had heard, but had also just assumed I had, too.
I remember the drive home vividly, but I don't really remember where I was driving to.
As I drove down Clark, then up Hogback to leave, I remember seeing police cars in the drive way at the Sheriffs department, blocking off the driveway.

Later, after Bill had returned home, we went to his parents house where we found his sister, Susie and her boyfriend Alex. We shot the shit as we always had. Alex talked about some new geeky thing he had gotten, and we all reveled in the geekiness between shots of the towers falling. Bill's Dad watched again and again, and every time he watched, he got a bit more angry and a bit more sad.
Even Lily, at her 23 months, seemed to understand the gravity of it.

Mr. Brown and I never saw eye to eye on politics, but that day we both felt the same thing, This NEEDS to be retaliated for, but who should be attacked.

I'm not one for revenge, really. Just, was over come with the rage of something happening on the soil of this country.

I remembered as a child watching the Iraq war on the television, and being afraid anytime a scud missile was deployed, and my Father quietly reassuring me from his white arm chair that everything would be all right; that no harm would ever come to me as long as I was on US soil.
"We are so far away, Dee Dee, that they can't touch us here. So dry your tears, and try to go to sleep, honey."
and now the thing that I had based my 20 years on, that as long as I was here, I would be safe... Was no longer true. Everywhere I looked I saw tired and shocked police officers, people scrambling.

And then Alex said something that I think was the most appropriate thing he could have said.
"With all of this going on, no matter how our relationships turn out and no matter what happens, we are tied together by the acts tonight. Even 10 or 15 years from now, we may not remember what we were wearing or what we were doing, but we will remember who we kept the company of."
Then he went back to whatever it was he was actually doing.

The next day, there was no school. It was my "Writing for digital media" class, which by far was my favorite. I thought the instructor was handsome and easy to listen to, and the content of the course was intriguing. (he later became my boss at the newspaper)

The next day was Renaissance faire. I was working as a manager at the Turtle Races, although the grounds were nearly empty, it was such a comfort to see those faces. Angie Hill and her daughters, my brother, Jason Roland and his then wife, Bill, Lyn, Dave... All of my workers at the faire. There was the broad sense of unity. I miss the unity.
And Angie, I think it was anyhow, handed out ribbons, red, white and blue, saying that this was for the Ambassador of Oosa, (USA) and to her recovery.

In the days following, I received a first hand account of the attack from a friend of my Brother's. How awful the whole thing had been. I could feel myself in the stifling blue smoke, feel my face pressed against the windows.



The next year, Bill and I split. Alex and Susie were long gone, and the whole thing became a snapshot in my history.

But my first thought of that day, after I had found out what had happened, was "Is Lily safe? What kind of world did I bring her into?"
A few years later on Sept. 11
"What kind of Mom am I? Why did I leave her behind the next year to her Father?"
And now,
"Yes, the whole ordeal was awful, but a piece of our history I cannot even imagine living without. How it has shaped us?"

How did we get to this current Political environment; the dog and pony show this whole government has turned into a three ring circus. One party says one thing so the other party is obligated to say another completely opposite thing, just to get attention. Dressing up like buffoons. Pointing fingers and saying "He's destroying America, she's destroying America." Guess what folks. It takes two to tango. This constant arguing is destroying what we worked so hard to build. You may not agree, you'll NEVER agree, that's not good for ratings, but can you at least ATTEMPT to compromise for the good of the rest of us?
There is no such thing as intelligent discourse about politics anymore, it's all emotion, hideous, filthy emotion: Like jealousy, like revenge, like greed.

You don't have to agree with me. No one has to. I'm not going to hold a gun to anyone's head... However, I like to think at least some folks agree with me here.

But now I understand just how much I have grown in 10 years, and this day, as it has been since 2001 will be a bookmark; a constant reminder to quietly reflect on how we have grown as a nation, and how I have grown as a person.

Some meme for youyou

Blogging at work while on break... One of the GREAT JOYS of the corporate lifestyle... Wish I could be doing this full time but I digress.

So Paul's continuing journey into the land of the unemployed has taken a 4 month toll.
Last year at about this time, he was entering the hospital in status epilepticus, AKA exiting real life for Twitchville. He had 4 Clonic Tonic (AKA Gran Mal) seizures in as many nights.
We took him to the neurologist, who almost did nothing. Paul couldn't talk, couldn't count backwards from 100 by 3's, (a task which is usually easy for him) We found he was having all kinds of different seizures. They changed the drugs he was on, and poof, after a month or two he was ok to work again and then we started to understand the kind of stresses he had REALLY been under at work. He wasn't able to fully verbalize before. Now, a year later and he's been fired by the same jerk who started the trouble. I should send that man an anvil top hat.

I'm sure it'll end up being a win-win situation. Our Hollywood Disney ending hasn't happened yet. We said "I will" several years ago and we are still just trying to take off.

Most people have dreams. Most people have goals they are working toward: They are working toward their degree, their freedom, losing weight I have found that I am stunningly goal-less. I also feel like I'm lacking a spine. I want to publish books but at the same time the security of my current situation is culling me to complacency. That and utter exhaustion. I am on the brink, all I feel like doing is sitting down and sleeping. I don't normally watch TV or movies, and yet my Netflix account is seeing record use from me.
I stopped writing because although I loved reading it and thought it was funny, it felt like a 24/7 bitch session. And people inevitably ended up feeling like my husband was a complete lazy ass loser.
He's not, FYI. I got sick of defending him though. I spent the last 2 years of my life doing that in the court of law. Just sometimes, the lackluster low activity level and lack of stressing about anything gets to me. but it's not actually a bad thing that he doesn't stress out.

The baby learned an evil laugh a few days ago. Lily's been over and so we trade off our nightly television/movie sessions between Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog The Crow and various Disney Sap

Anyway, Dr. Horrible got Paul breaking into fits of maniacal laughter, and in turn, since Tom is in full "Monkey see, Monkey do" mode, we now have a baby with an evil laugh. Which kind of sounds like, "Wahahahahah... (eruption of baby giggles)"

The power went out Sunday evening/early Monday Morning. Everyone in the house made sure to tell me all about it. The kids upstairs, who are very young, screamed. Which woke the pre-teen in my apartment up who asked me, "Mom, what the heck is wrong with the MP3 player and speakers?" (I explained the power was out, which I really would have thought to be self explanatory, she has a fan in her room, too.) The sassing from the hallway woke Evan up, who yelled "Mom, my TV is off." I responded the power was out, he turned over and went back to sleep. An hour later Dan woke up and insisted he HAD to sleep with Paul and I... Add in the dog, with every person who passed within a mile of my window, (here's a hint: US 23 runs about a half a mile away from my window, and can be heard clearly on nights when there is no electricity running.) and you have a three ring circus, BEFORE needing to grocery shop and go to work.
I'll admit, with all of my running around I ended up staying home from work,. It was a risk/reward behavior. If I went in, I was more likely to get myself fired for sassing off at one of the customers. I'm usually pretty easygoing about things now, but yeah, days like that, forget it.

Well something that started as a quick project on break has turned into an epic battle to stay awake after work.
If you haven't done so already, please make sure you see My friend's kickstarter website Andy's CDs

Garon has been a dear friend of mine since the 12th grade. While my parents were going through the divorce, me being alienated from a lot of my friends due to a bad break up and then the start of a relationship between my then best friend and my ex boyfriend. Garon was one of the few VERY close very dear friends that I confided in, and he always made me feel better. He would always tell me "I am going to show all of these people they are wrong about me. I am going to go to LA and I am going to write scripts. I'm going to make it." Anytime he and I talk it's like we pick up where we left off, even though we haven't seen each other in years. One of the things I always told him is that I had faith that he would make it to LA some day, except when it started to look like he was giving up, then I told him "no, I don't think you'll make it." And he said "I'll show you" and had all of his stuff in a moving van a month later. (Somewhat true story! I don't know if it was I who had convinced him to get off his arse and go, but I know he split soon afterward.) He swore he'd never forgive me for losing faith in him. But then we talked. And argued like a feral cat and dog. I don't know if he forgave me or not, but I know it's no longer a big deal. He made it to LA 12 years ago, and he's a much happier person for it.

When he lived here, I would come pick him up every night around 9ish, we'd go to a movie, then around midnight we'd go play tag at an abandon playground, sometimes with friends, sometime alone. I had a crush on him then, but now I think of him like the younger brother I never had. We aren't close anymore, not really. But I promised him that I'd always be there and I'd NEVER give up faith in him again. To this day, I haven't. I won't, either. Garon has proved to me that anything he sets his pen, heart and mind to, will happen.
Garon is one of those people that I look to and I think, "God, what have I done with these last 12 years?" I had some kids, he went out to LA and maybe he didn't make it BIG ,but he's trying.
He's got other cheerleaders now. He's got other close friends who take care of him, but I'm back here in the shadows doing everything I can to make sure he succeeds. Maybe you know him, maybe you don't know him. But he's a very important person in my life, and he deserves your praise and money.
Even a dollar helps. And I'm broke now.

I'm going to take my goalless deflated self to bed now before I become a blabbering fool at the keyboard. Oh, too late.