Attack is good. Point left.

I wish I could go into detail, but strange things were afoot at the Circle K for the past week. Unfortunately, I was one of the first to know and I had to wait until the rest could be enlightened.

It was wicked awkward and Wednesday was the day the shit hit the fan. Officially.

I’ve been in a fog since Wednesday AM. It’s been wicked fucked up. Wicked. Wicked. Wicked. Wicked. Fucked. Up.

Gah.

I had fencing last night and it was the best way possible to reduce the stress I’ve been under. I’m in the adult training group, which means on Thursdays I get to poke at people with my sharp pointy stick and hope I don’t get poked by other people’s sharp pointy sticks. I did a kick ass job last night. I fenced like I actually knew what I was doing. I even did a perfect ballestra!!! (Which if you know me, and seen my previous attempts at ballestras, is pretty amazing.)

I know I’ll get through this -and I’m thankful that I have the people around me who can help me get through this - but in the meantime, I’m glad I have my sharp pointy stick and people who don’t mind being my pincushion.

En garde, bitches!

The Sporky Pit of Death is calling your name.

I love my main group of characters. LOVE them.

So much that I’ve now written their story 4 different ways… all 4 of them during NaNoWriMos (2003, 2008, 2009, 2010).

This year, though, they are surprising the fuck out of me.

I’m not quite sure what’s going on. These are not the characters I’ve been hanging out with since 2003 and I’m finding it a little concerning. In addition,  I am already planning a sporktacular death for someone if he doesn’t man up and do what he’s supposed to do.

So yeah. 

I am ahead of my word count, though, so I guess we’re OK.

 

Buh-bye!

(No pic today, sorry!)

What a busy day of cleaning up some social garbage.

I’m never online that much any more, and when I am I get overwhelmed by the amount of noise. I can’t keep up with my Google Reader feeds, tweets, and Facebook, and I don’t give two shits about MySpace anymore.

So what’s a girl to do?

Delete, delete, delete.

OH MY GOD. It felt so good.

Buh-bye MySpace and all your creepy friend requests.

Buh-bye “friends” on Facebook that I don’t really care about. (Yes, I did the “OMG! You were my friend in 1st grade!” thing. All those people are long gone.)

Buh-bye tweeters who just clog up my steam with stupid shit.

Buh-bye feeds on Google Reader that I normally just skip over.

On deck, but not today, cleaning up the back end here. No deleting but I got really pissed off last night when I was looking for a specific picture I posted and couldn’t find it.  I’ve been dragging my feet on creating categories because I have so many entries to go through. It will happen slowly and over a few weeks, but it will be done!!!

Aaaaaaaaah.

Also? NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. Expect even more sporadic, photo-less check ins for the next 30 days or so.

I’ve been dreaming of the road…

black mountain symphony :: eliot, me :: october 9, 2010

That may not be the best picture in the world, but it gives me chills every time I see it.

My friends’ band, Black Mountain Symphony, was in Portsmouth last weekend to play the Seacoast Fringe Festival. While the festival itself was poorly managed, it was great to hang out with Annie, Bear, Bill, Rollz, Orion and Charlie. I got to see them perform two out of the three nights they were scheduled to play, because they didn’t get into Portsmouth on time Friday night. Saturday, we took the band up to the Nubble Lighthouse and then treated them to lunch at Bob’s Clam Hut. There were so many great things about the weekend… just watching Bill, Rollz and Bear screw around, the cries of “No Homo!”, getting to know Annie better and not being surprised by a common thread in our backgrounds, learning Bear’s real name… and the music. It’s always about the music - the personal relationships are a huge bonus. A very huge bonus. I know I’m super blessed to not only have their music in my life, but the band members as well. Being able to hang out with them is such a privilege and I can’t ever forget that.

Saturday night, after the show, we went back to where they were staying and hung out for a while longer. As is the norm for musicians, it wasn’t long until the instruments came out. They played “Upstate” and “Stop Stopping” acoustically… The picture was taken during “Upstate” which is one of my favorite songs. Like I said, chills. There’s something magical about seeing them hanging out and playing just because they wanted to. It was magical in Dele-Vegas and it was magical in Eliot, ME.

*sigh*

I wish Albany was closer…

The winds of change…

michael stipe :: great woods, mansfield, ma :: june 14, 2008

There’s been a lot going on backstage.

I know, when is there not? My life is apparently never going to be free of drama. I just wish there didn’t seem to be so much of it.

I’ve been waaaaaay more open about the bipolar lately. Even tweeting about it - and I have a coworker following me there. I’m trying to walk unafraid… I did it once. I can do it again.

I’ve done a lot of growing up, a lot of calming down, and I think my break from That Other Blog was what I needed. You can’t rage against the machine all the time, can you? Maybe you can, but I found it exhausting and not really healthy.

I took yesterday and this coming Monday off from work (we didn’t have Columbus Day off, but I’ll happily burn a vacation day). A nice 4 day weekend… away from the insanity that is the office. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my imagination. Alone with my demons.

Sounds like fun? Well, Friday was a lot of quality time with my demons and I think we’ve come to an understanding.

I’ve been toying with moving this site to EE2 - almost upgraded the other night but forgot my FTP AND database user names and passwords. There also needs to be a new design. The last time I redesigned this blog it was basically a tightening up of the code and adding those ads to the sidebar. I think the ads have outlived their usefulness. I’m not making any money from them (not that I thought I would, but what the hell, right?). There’s also a Twitter error that pops up on the Archive screen.

I had a bunch of ideas, but the artist in me has apparently taken a vacation. She’s not processing the massive amounts of photos she’s taken since May but she has a TypeKit account!

I guess I can blame it on the “new” job. There’s a lot about it that just mentally exhausts me. I come home and I don’t want to go near a computer. If I do, I’m playing the Sims. At least they get to live in cool houses and have a cool job like ghost hunting.

But, let’s be honest, completely honest, shall we?

Bipolar. Fucking. Sucks.

It’s ALWAYS the hidden drama backstage. My coworkers can suck. My husband can suck. My friends can suck. But none of them can torture me and make me feel as shitty as I can make myself. It’s been out of control for a loooooooong time. It’s not “time to call the doctor” out of control, and you’d barely know I’m in a bad place, but I know. I know my specific trigger and I’m trying to NOT let it get the best of me, but dude, that thing? It’s a force of nature. You can only run from a hurricane… you can’t stand up, face it, and tell it nicely to leave your neighborhood alone. There’s no fighting this hurricane. I know. I’ve done it. I’ve lost. I’ve packed up my stuff and moved to a new location, but I can see the storm clouds. I know it’s hurricane season… I just don’t know how many hurricanes I can survive.  Maybe the next time, I just let the flood waters take me.

Nah. We all know - I’m going to stand there in the path and give it a one-finger salute. Let it do its worst. It can’t take any more away from me than it already has.

So anyhoo… Friday. My demons.

I know I’m on the path to healing, to figure out how to force the hurricane to change its direction, when I post a tweet and get a reply like this: Consider this an Internet fistbump to that tweet. *WORD* I lurve that kid. They are one of my most favorite people on this planet and a kindred spirit. The saddest part is that we can never be friends… there is a huge THING between us that keeps us from crossing the line from friendly to friends, but I’m OK with that. Maybe one day, but not today.

I know what I need to do to keep my sanity. I know how to do the things I need to do to keep my sanity. I actually LIKE doing the things I need to do to keep my sanity. I have goals. Concrete goals. And I’m going to meet them or I’m going to die trying. Things are changing. I’m changing.

The signs are subtle, but they’re there. For example, if you know me well, you know my hair hasn’t been it’s natural color since high school. Well, guess what? It is now. I had to dye it to get it there, but at least this time when my hair grows out, there won’t be any roots. (That picture of me on the about me page? Nice and Easy 110 - Natural light auburn, baby. My go-to color for YEARS.) Other signs are WAY more subtle than a change in my hair color - things only my husband would notice, and BOY! has he noticed. It makes me feel good.

Thinking about changing this blog’s “voice” and design, wondering who I am, changing who I am… it’s made me wonder how I would describe myself.

The surface stuff is easy: BU hockey fan, lover of all things R.E.M., BC hater.

It’s easy to go down another layer: fencer, knitter, rubber stamper.

And even another layer deeper: child of alcoholics (both deceased), bipolar, feisty, lover of the f-word.

The end result is always the same, isn’t it?

I think. I love. I believe. I am a 5 year old that never matured.  I am old beyond my 30-something years.


I am more than HTML, PHP, hexadecimal colors and your preconceived notions.  I am a survivor.  I am me.


And that’s all that matters.