For The Love Of Urban Fantasy

Okay, so I partied Saturday night with a friend.  We had good times with Jack and Seagrams till about 6am.  Crashed for a few hours and woke up around ten.  Granted, no hang over.  Though I'm fairly certain when I woke up I was probably still drunk.  Still, other than feeling a little tired, no headache or dizziness nada.  Didn't drink last night, but today my head feels like someones playing hand ball against my brain.  How does that make any sense.  See, I've always been weird.

Before the partying commenced on Saturday the hubby and I were playing Street Fighter 4.  My little Stormy girl starts barking her head off so I think my friend has arrived.  Turning in my seat though, I see that the entire kitchen is filled with smoke.  Holy hell!  We jump out of our seats and rush into the kitchen to find smoke flowing half way to the ground.  Apparently the maternal unit forgot that she was boiling hot dogs.  All the water boiled away and the pot and hot dogs were burning.  The pot of course had to be thrown away due to the fact that it was charred.  Taking the appropriate measures clean up and use an industrial size fan to get rid of the smoke.  Stormy girl gets a treat for warning us and lots of praise which she is just eating up.  Of course then she got in trouble for pooping in one of the rooms.  She usually doesn't do that, but I guess she thought she deserved a free-bee for letting us know about the smoke filled kitchen.  She's such a brat!

I still feel kind of bad because I'm taking her to get spade tomorrow.  She will not be amused with me, but since my brothers dog nailed her and she is no longer a virgin we kind of have to.  She's over weight and if she is pregnant there would more than likely be complications.   So tomorrow we take a trip to the vet.  I'm all nervous.  I don't like being put under and I don't like that she has to be, but it's better we get it taken care of now.

Editing the short story some more today.  It's been a bit hard to concentrate with the evil pain shooting through my head and trying to distract me, but 4 Goodies later and it's starting to subside.  Hooray for Goodies!  Especially now that they have the orange flavor.  The deadline for the contest is May which is rapidly approaching.  I want to have it ready to go in the next week or two so it's crunch time!

Which also means my break is over and it's time to get back to work. 

I am now officially closer to thirty than I am to twenty.  Though in reality I don't feel any older, so I guess that's a good sign.  The birthday festivities were excellent.  They entailed lots of drinking, laughing, and game play.  A couple of my buddies came up to enjoy the weekend with me.  Though I just think they came because they are single and have nothing better to do with their time (Joking!) No, they are great, and could have done a hundred and one different things besides coming to visit me, and I am so grateful that they did.  It was definitely good times.  Well most of it, but I'm trying to ignore the bad parts. 

So, my legs are extremely sore, as I have begun working out again, now that I am no longer sick and the party is over.  I thought my belly would be the most sore, but alas, my legs tricked me and do not like being forced into exercise.  Oh well, they will get back into shape damn it!   Along with the belly and the booty.  It's hard work, but I forgot how much fun working out can be.  I don't do a gym anymore.  Too much money and I never wind up going.  I'm better off at home, because then I don't have to go anywhere, so I have no excuse not to do it.  Work it girl!

The contest entry is due in May, but editing is a biatch!  I never did like that part, but it must be done.  Hubby is on my butt about it.  No more procrastinating.  I'll actually be looking over it again tomorrow.  I haven't even glanced at it in two weeks, so my mind can read it fresh.  Newbie here, so doing it the best way I can.

Also working on The Novel, which I actually have a title for now.  Should I say?  Or Nay?  Well, I'll think about it, but I don't want to jinx it.  My leaf has been turned and I don't want the wind coming out of jinxville to flip it back over. 

The only problem I've got at the moment, is that I've got two separate beginning chapters.  Now both chapters will take the story down a different path, but both paths lead to the same place.  The question is, which is the more interesting.  I think I have my answer, but I'm making the hubby read each one to get his opinion.  So, by tomorrow, I shall have my answer.  Though I think I've already made it.  Still, well we'll see.

The other thing I'm doing, once I finish this entry, is writing a second chapter for each to see which one flows better, and which keeps my interest.  I mean if it can't keep my interest, well I can't very well expect to keep a readers interest.

All right, catch ya later LJ addicts.  <3

I haven't written in my journal since 10/15/06.  It's a very thick leather bound one I bought in 04'.  It's only filled out half way through.  I haven't gone back to read much.  I'm not ready to do that yet.  However, I am going to start using that other half.  I realized I have a lot I want to say, but not a lot I want others to hear.  It's why I kept a journal in the first place.  Maybe why I didn't lose my mind back then.  Journal's don't judge or talk back, they just listen, letting you shift through your thoughts so that you can figure out what to do for yourself.  I never realized how much more independent I was just writing my thoughts down, but remembering (if I'm remembering correctly) I think I was a stronger person, more sure of myself.  Even if I wasn't, that's how I perceived myself and one of the things I'm trying to work on is to be strong again.  Stop being depressed and start thinking for myself.  I can't let what happened in my past keep me from living.  I can't let the losses and the pain stop me from taking risks.  I missed my journal, and I think maybe, just maybe it missed me too.

So, I'm having a dilemma about the career choice for my protagonist.  I've tried out several different things, but nothing seems to fit.  She doesn't like any of the jobs we've discussed.  There really is only one thing she wants to do, but due to her medical condition she can't.  So the question is, does she suck it up and try and find something else she loves, or maybe it'll become an integral part of the book that she's constantly going from job to job. 

See, but she's being stubborn, not even wanting to consider some options.  She is obsessed with this one job, but again, they won't let her do it.  Soooooo maybe she's a temp.  She goes around from job to job, basically being a jack of all trades, but not staying with anything long enough to get comfortable.  That could work.  Of course I don't know how much she's going to like it and when we talk about it later she might be a little angry.  She's a very independent character.

Sorry, I was thinking out loud.  Or on paper.  Whatever, you know what I mean.  Of course reading it back now I probably sound a little crazy.  Which I'm not.  Okay, that might be a lie.  This is not helping to prove my sanity.  I think I'm going to go now.

Chunky Monkey and I walked the yard today.  Well technically she ran, I walked.  She has little dachshund legs.  I'm trying to get her down to nine pounds.  She's thirteen now.  It should actually be a tangible goal now that my aunt has moved out.  She was feeding all the dogs all day, and not even healthy stuff.  I know she fed her cheesecake once because it was her dogs birthday.  So they had a party.  I was not amused.  Anyways, now she has hard food and dinner, usually scraps.  Both of my girls seem to feel they are above wet dog food.  She's slimming a bit already. 

It is freezing!!!!!!

Tonight after all are asleep I resume editing my short story for a contest.  I sent it to my god brother for a rough read.  He liked and gave a few pointers.  I can always count on him because he absolutely, brutally honest and he doesn't care about your feelings.  He should have been a critic.  Seriously he'd be rich!

In awesome news SUPERNATURAL resumes tonight!!!!!!!!  *Does Happy Dance*  I'm an addict.  I love that show.  The funny thing, so does my dad.   We watch it religiously every week, have the first two seasons on DVD and can have lengthy conversations about the show.  Guns, bows, hunting, and growing food are great things to talk about, but it's always great that we can talk about little mundane things too.  Well I mean really we can talk about anything, but it's cool that at 60 we have the some of the same media interests.  I even had to buy two copies of the last Harry Potter book because after he had seen the first movie he stole my collection and read them all, so by the time the last book came out, well yeah, he would have stole my copy.  So we got two, and sat on the couch, and read them until we were both finished.  We would both look up from time to time and make comments to each other.  We apparently read at close to the same speed as well.

Okay, I'm rambling now, but what can I say, I love my dad. 

I'm a bit late with this post. No excuses. I could bitch and moan about how this has held me up and that has held me up, but in reality, I've just been lazy when it comes to blogging.

So Belated New Years Resolution #1

-Get on my ass and blog at least three times a week.

I've bee working on a short story for a contest. The rough is done and in the processing of editing with my favorite orange pen. I still have over a month until it's due, but I'm trying to stop procrastinating.

Belated New Years Resolution #2

-Stop procrastinating and get off my ass and do what I really want to do.

And over the last couple of years I have become a house dweller. There have been a lot of bad things, but I have to let them go and move on. I can't just sit here and be all self pitying and depressed. I got lost in that for a while, though I'm actually embarrassed to admit it, but it's true. That's just not my style. Again, I could make excuses about why it happened, but that doesn't it helped. I've realized the problem and it's time to correct it.

Belated New Years Resolution #3

-Stop being a self pitying, depressive, complaining person, and move on with life. Go out, meet new people, shake off the past and welcome the future.

Oh and of course

Belated New Years Resolution #4

-Lose some weight! (Don't we all have that one though?)

Those who didn't know her missed out.  Beautiful, smart, outspoken, and stubborn as hell, Jenn made an impact on everyone she ever met.  There was something about it that made everyone want to be a part of her life.  I even used to joke with her that she had stalker syndrome due to the fact that guys she would meet would suddenly become obsessed with her.  Seriously.  She was never anything but herself and had no problem telling people how it was.  She was a very special person and the world has lost one of it's great spirits.

Jenn was born with cystic fibrosis and for twenty four years she battled it with a fury that the gladiators wouldn't even have been able to contest with.  She was a warrior body, mind, and spirit who never let her illness get the best of her.  She laughed at every opportunity, made every meeting a memory, and was the most loyal friend a person could have.

On October 18th, 2008 Jenn's disease claimed her body, but nothing can ever claim her spirit.  It's what we hold on to.  We celebrate her life and know that she is watching us, laughing with us, crying with us, and experiencing everything with us, but now she is no longer in pain.  She doesn't have to fight anymore.

That of course doesn't stop out hearts from breaking, from feeling that this should not have happened to her.  Nor should it happen to anyone with this disease.  Jenn lived a life of illness, but still found the best of every situation.  If there was an inch of life to live she would extend it into a mile any way she could.  She wanted every moment to count.  She wanted to have fun, make memories, love and be loved.

For four short years she was able to lead a normal life due to a double lung transplant she had.  It wasn't long enough.  She had so much more to give, so much more to contribute.  When she passed, a piece of everyone who loved her was taken with her.



My sister, who I will always love, miss, and remember.  The one who taught me to cherish every moment in life, because you never know when your last breath will be.



The group of strong women (along with the next generation).


The triple threat, the Sisters Three, The greatest super heroes the world has ever known!!!!!!!

You know until now, I had blocked out my emotions, trying to be strong for my husband.  Everything I said above, was true, but detached.   Now, though, I find tears running down my face in silence, as the truth of this hits me.  It's just seemed as though Jenn is in the hospital again, we won't here from her for a few weeks and then, there she'll be again.  Smiling, laughing, making a smart ass comment when the time calls for it.  In a way I can still here it in my head.

In a way because of that assumption it still hasn't fully hit me yet.  Even now the tears are drying up, but I know there will be another round of them when I go to her myspace page, or wear a shirt that was hers.  I miss her, but I know I have to be strong.  My husband is going through this much worse than I am.  His mother died when he was sixteen, now his sister when he's twenty six.  Ten years apart.  He's not taking it well, though he tries to be okay.  I'm worried about him, and I know there is nothing I can do to make it better, only be there for him and help him take the next step.    Things are...not okay, but they will be.  They won't ever be the same, but I have to believe it will in some way be okay again.  A new normal, but never ever will we forget the beautiful woman by the name of Jennifer Michelle.

This isn't edited, or spell checked, this is just what I had to say.

Six years or so ago I wasn't a fan of backing anything up.  After all, my lap top was wrapped in a protects against everything aura so it would never break.  Then, one day, my super indestructable laptop died.  It didn't get a virus, wasn't dropped, it just died.  Away went all of my pictures, files, and stories (including the first one I ever wrote).  They all went to lap top heaven, never to be seen again.

After that, well let's just say my illusions of computers were stripped and I became a very cautious person.  My brother suggested an external hardrive, which is now constantly next to me.  I also mooched one of his many flash drives for double security.  For many years they were nothing but duplicates.  I used them to transfer files from my desktop to my laptop (oh yeah I have two computers as well) though not everything is on both.  One has a few files, the other has more.  Most of my stories are on both, but my music and pictures are not.  

Friday morning I got up and came to my desktop, sat down and went to check my email.  Everything froze.  No problem, that happens every so often.  I go to restart.  As I'm waiting I get a drink, a breakfast bar and come back only to read a message saying...

No Boot Device Available

Which was displayed on the black screen of death.  What he hell!  Try booting in safe mode, unplugging the computer...Nada.  After that I call Dell.  We run some tests, I read what the screen says, and apparently my hard drive is fried.  Not just dead either.  It's got scorch marks!  Hmmmm....okay so obviously I need a new one.  I have to wait for a tech guy to call.  Which, he did.  Today.  They don't work on weekends, so I used my lap top for my computer fix.  The only thing I couldn't do was play WOW, but I made up for that with some ample X-Box 360 time.  If you haven't noticed by now I am a nerd.

So, now I have the new hard drive, and while I'm typing this I'm waiting for all my music to finish transferring, which I would not have if I didn't back everything up.  Paranoid?  Nope, but definitely smart, or else I would have lost all my stories and music again.

It's going to take another 2 hours and 26 minutes to finish transferring my music, but hey I can't have it all.  However, my documents are already transferred over and my updates installed.  So, the rest is just customizing and get everything back to where I like it.

So, I'm off to try and remember some of the customization programs I had for my computer.  I'll figure it out or just find nifty new ones.

 So last night my eyelid for some reason decided it was going to get irritated and red and a little puffy. I gently removed my make up and applied a compress, as I didn't know what the cause of it was. At first I thought I might be getting pink eye, but upon coming to work this morning, I have realized that I have a Sty. My first one in fact. This little booger is irritating!

Last night however, when I was still in the unknown zone, Brian and I decided to go to dinner. I thought I had removed all my makeup, but apparently there were some remnants of my purple eyeshadow, and black liner. By the time we got to the restaurant and I took of my sunglasses, Brian's jaw dropped. Between the makeup remnants, and the puffiness, it looked like I had gotten punched right in my little ol' eye. So I brought my glasses back down. I felt like people were staring at me, thinking I was hiding a black eye that my husband gave me and now he was treating me to dinner to make up for it lol.

Of course, like I said, the reality is, I have a sty. An itchy, annoying, I want to rip it off Sty, but instead, after finding out this is what I had, I went to Walgreens and picked up some eye drops that are supposed to sooth the effects. It sort of works.

I am of course still writing, though it feels like I'm never getting anything done, and when I do, I feel like it's not good, although I know that's just the pessimist in me and I should learn to ignore it. At least when it comes to writing. My protagonist is being as stubborn as ever and I'm really thinking of writing in a scene where she gets her ass kicked and gets put in her place. Knock her off her high horse a bit.

Though, I don't know if that will work, because she's not really on a high horse in the novel, only in my head. Maybe I should have a virtual fight in my head then? No, I did not take my meds today.

Oh, and a bit of good news. Okay well maybe great. My first editorial is going to be published in a magazine! Of course it's not going to say by this author. It was only three hundred words, but they were my words and they are going to be printed in a real magazine. Excitement ensues!!!!!!!

It is a little hard to find time for everything now that I have a job. Working, writing, WOW, Guitar Hero (the latter two or things my husband and I do together), not to mention having the time and energy to go out and do things. Oh yeah, plus we're looking for our own place, which is a pain the pattooties, but will be worth it once we're on our own and by ourselves for the first time. We've been on our own before, but always had roommates. This time, it's going to be just us. Well and Mumbles and Storm. But we'll be the only two humans lol.

That should equal more time for writing since we won't be living with six people and being beckoned and called every fifteen minutes over tedious little things. Oooh, plus privacy! I'm so diggin our own place!

Well gotta jet, work is a callin' and my butt needs to start answering.

 So after my normal nervous break down the other day, I've decided to come back and up date what's been going on in my life.

I am now officially a full time receptionist at an advertising company.  It seem I may have taken the first step to getting experience in the writing world.  Let me explain.

When I went in for the interview three weeks ago I was asked the question almost every employer utters during the get to know you period.  "What is your dream job?"  In other words what do you want to be when you grow up and stop slacking off and working dead end jobs?  I answered honestly.  "A writer."  Hey, I don't want to be a receptionist for the rest of my life, but I live in America where gas prices are breaking the once middle class families and knocking them down here with us struggling ones.  It's pulling us struggling families down in the ditches because we now have to walk our butts to work.  Our country is expensive and getting more so by the day.  It's getting to the point where you can't even poop without paying someone for having to sit on the pot.  I need money, there for, I applied for the job.  Of course all I told her was "A writer."

At which point she said, "What do you write?  Headlines?  Ads?"

"Nothing like that.  I write stories, songs, and poetry."  And every once in a while I get around to posting a decent blog, unlike the whiny oh my god poor me blog from the other day.

So, after a few days, she wants a second interview so the rest of the staff can meet me.  Works good, everyone's laughing, joking, having a great time.  I get the job.

I start on Tuesday of last week.  I learn the ropes all that good stuff.  By Thursday they need a couple of headlines typed up.  I can do that.  As I turn to leave she stops me.  "By the way, if you can think of anything add them to the list."

My heart beats just a little faster, as no one has seen my work other than writing buddies and on occasion my husband.   What the hell, I'll give it a shot.  So I read the ads, and check out the companies website and get some ideas for the products that they sell.  From there, I came up with four headlines to add to the list for the ad.  

Was I happy for the chance?  Of course.  Did I think that they were going to do anything with them?  Not really.  I figured I was a novice compared to the other writers who work at the company.

So anyways, she decides to show them to our big boss and see what he says.  Friday afternoon, I learn that he thought they were great and he's presenting them to the company!  Okay, now I'm shocked!  Shocked enough, that I just sputter something that isn't even coherent and he smiles at me.

They have also decided that they want to expand on my creativity and teach me how to write news releases.  Holy crap!  I mean, I know it's not much, and they might not even decide to use one of my headlines, but it's still the thought that it could happen.  They were talking to me about how I would feel when my first whatever was published and I was like "SHHHHHHH don't jinx it!!!"

This week they gave me the job of coming up for a new name for a company.  There original name is too close to another company and they don't want the two confused.  I came up with about ten names, so hopefully they will like one of them.  Right now they are throwing odds and ends my way.  I don't think they want to start with the major training of any kind of writing because it's only my second week.  They say patience is a virtue, but right now it's just a pain in my butt.  I need the next few months to fly by so I can learn this stuff. 

I went to this place looking for a job as a receptionist, not thinking in a million years it would turn into something else.  I found the ad in the paper and went for it.  Good pay, weekends off, and gas money when I run errands for the office.  Now though, it's looking like it might be a possibility in disguise. If nothing else, it's local exposure with ads in magazines and newspapers, and more importantly, it's experience.  There ain't nothing wrong with a little know how and little somethin' somethin' to back it up, you get what I'm sayin?

Yeah, okay, so I'm a little hyper.  Sorry about that.  I don't excited often, but when I do, I get a little....hmmm psycho sometimes.  Totally unlike myself with big smiles and crazy laughter that doubles me over and brings tears to my eyes.  Good moods are weird.  

It has nothing to do with writing, or maybe it has nothing to do with anyone at all.  Maybe it will sound like gibberish to the world, and maybe no one will care, but that doesn't matter, because what I have to say has to do with my life and needs to be said.  I don't know how long or how short it will be, and I don't know why tonight, especially when I need to go to sleep for work in the morning, but regardless there are things that need to get out of my head.  I would tell them to someone in person, but they already deal with enough from me and I'm too much of a coward to show my weaknesses in person I suppose.

Even now I want to stall and keep from typing the things that running around in my mind and maybe that's my problem.  Maybe I just lay down the facts too much and keep my emotions out of them, but when you've always been the strong one, when you've learned to be the foundation for the rest of the people around you, and be the helping hand to them, it's hard to let your own emotions out, and worse, it's harder to accept help no matter how much you want or need it.

I worry everyday that I'm going to become to much like my mother.  In most aspects she, in my eyes, is the greatest woman in the world.  She's smart, funny, caring, and has the biggest heart.  She will do whatever it takes to make sure other people are taken care of, but then there is the crazy side of her.  It's not the fun crazy, but the 'she should be put in an asylum crazy'.  As much as I love her she cries all the time over the stupidist things, and maybe that's mean, but if you don't say what she wants to hear than, according to her, she's the worst person in the world and she's always wrong.  She always needs to hear compliments, she is narcissistic and manic depressive and she blames it all on menopause, but she was the same way when I was a kid.  Mom was really bad at laying guilt trips, and making you feel horrible if you said anything that went against her.  

I'm scared of becoming that person.

I work so hard to keep my emotions in check, to always keep a neutral face, and not let my emotions get in the way of day to day life, but now they are.  Not all the time, but I have a bad habit of keeping things in and then they tend to blow up in my face at the worst possible times.  

When my best friend died in a horrific car accident, I lost my mind.  I was also stupid.  I got drunk and high every night, just trying to forget.  I wanted him to be there.  I wanted him to tell me it was all okay and then it had been the worst nightmare of my life.  I sat in my drive way, just sat, for hours, thinking he would pull up.  My friend Sean finally came outside and said he wasn't coming back.  He tried to pull me up, tried to get me to walk away, but I couldn't.  How do you walk away from your best friend?  How do you say, "No, he's not coming back?"  At the time I couldn't, and I literally fought Sean, fought against him so much, until he pulled me into his arms and held me in the fetal position.  I broke down, lost it, beat against his chest, and he just held me.  Eight years later, when things go really bad, I still expect him to pull up, even though I don't live in the same house.  I wanted to believe it was a cruel joke, or that he faked his death for witness protection.  I wanted to believe that somewhere out there, Dannie was still alive and watching over us.  I tried so hard to deny it, but eventually you realize that no matter how much you want to deny it, the only time you'll ever see their face again is in a picture or a movie, and sometimes the memories are just too much to bear, because the memories only remind you of what you don't have now.

When someone dies, they say time heals the wounds.  Sometimes, things only get worse and the wounds continue to get more raw until the slightest thing hurts and all you want to do is put a bandade over it and never let anything get near the gashes again.  Sometimes that's how I feel.  

It seems that no matter how far forward I move, I wind up a yard back from something that has happened outside of my control.  It's happened so much that now that good things are happening it's terrifying me.  I'm waiting for the Acme Anvil to fall on my head as I watch the Road Runner once again elude my grasp.  Maybe that's stupid or cowardess, I don't know.  

Everyone says that you have to live through the bad to appreciate the good.  To cherish the wonderful things that happen and to know that miracles are possible.  In a way I can understand that, but when most of your adult life has been nothing but heartache you learn to fear those happy times, because you know they are going to be ripped away.  You know that when something good happens it's only temporary and that something beyond your control is going to rip it from your grasp and tear your heart out with it.

I've talked before about my sister in law needing another transplant.  Cystic Fibrosis is a horrible disease.  I can remember this one time, before she got her first lung transplant.  I think we were maybe eighteen or nineteen.  We were at her house watching wrestling before it came stupid.  I had my head on her lap and we were just chillin', watching what we enjoyed.  She started coughing, and I didn't pay much attention, because she always coughed like she was going to spit out her lungs by the time she was done.  Suddenly she hit me on the head.  I look up, and there's blood pouring out of her mouth.  I told her to hold on and went and got her father.  I called her brother and told him to get his ass over there now, because no one really knew what was going on.  There was just blood pouring from her mouth like she had a red waterfall sitting in her throat.

We got lucky that night, it was only a burst vessel in her throat from the strain of coughing.  It was still scary as hell, but what can you do, but be there for them and tell the person it's going to be all right, even where you're terrified it's not going to be.

No matter what anyone says, if we believe that when someone dies they go to a better place, than we are the scared and selfish ones, not wanting to let them go to that place.  We don't want to lose out on that person and the impact they have on our lives.  We would rather they suffer and fight, and maybe not be the same person they used to be as long as they are breathing.  We are the wants who want them to survive no matter what the cost.  Maybe that better place is just something we tell ourselves so that we feel better about a loved ones passing.  Then again, maybe not, and we're not all as good hearted people as we would like to believe.

April 2007, I found out that I lost my child.  I was fourteen weeks pregnant, but my baby had died at nine.  I fell into the deepest, darkest of myself, just wanting her to still be growing in my belly.  No matter what anyone says, I know she would have been a girl.  She would have been beautiful too, but she never got the chance.  She never got the chance to breathe, or open her eyes, or feel love.   She died before any of that was possible and that almost killed me inside.  My husband put up with a lot and as much as I appreciate and love him for it, I don't always show it, and again that's selfish on my part.

I became a chain smoker who drank about every night after I found out.  I was already pessimistic about life because there is a hell of a lot more that I've been through but haven't said anything about.  When she died, it was like I didn't care anymore.  I would live, but it didn't matter what happened.  I hated myself for not being able to sustain her so that she could grow strong enough to live on her own.  I hated the fact that I hurt my husband and dissapointed my mom.  I hated the fact that I was breathing and she never had the chance to.  I loathed the fact that everyone was trying to tell me how I should feel, or trying to cheer me up, or telling me it would all be all right.

I just hated.

Two years ago, my husband had cancer.  We got lucky, caught it in the first stages.  The cancer was removed and he went through chemo.  He was so depressed and upset because of it.  It was his first surgery.  He had never been seriously sick or hospitalized in his life and then wham!  This comes out of no where.  Literally, people, no where.  One day you're fine, and the next day there was a lump.  And as much as I wanted to cry and scream, and just be pissed off, I couldn't.   I had to be strong for him.  I had to work forty hours a week to keep our insurance.  I had to take care of him, and be by his side while he was sick.  You can't break down during those times.  You have to be strong, because if you're not, than they can't be.  Your strength gives them strength and it's how they get through it.

I hate the fact that people tell me I'm not strong.  Most think it's because I'm woman.  Women are still seen as weaklings when it comes to emotion.   Maybe sometimes we are, but I've learned to hide the pain, to keep the tears from falling, and to pretend everythings okay, even when the world is blowing up around you and people are running in chaotic mobs trying to loot stores even though life as we know it is going to end any second.  You learn to suck it up and you learn to deal with it.  

I wish I could say that what I've said here is all I've been through.  I wish I could say that at twenty five I didn't feel like I was forty.  I wish that things had been better for a lot of people, because no matter what I've had to deal with, I'm not the one who's dead.  I'm not the one who's had cancer.  I'm just the one who's had to be there for those people.  I'm the one who's had to stand by and watch, knowing there was nothing I could do, but be there and hold someones hand.

I never regret any of it.  It's just when you take care of people for so long....you want someone to take care of you.  To hold you no matter how long you cry, or pick you up no matter how many times you fall down.  You don't want someone to say it's time to move on, because you're not ready, but because they say it and everyone else says it, you have to you or you're at risk for having to go see a therapist or worse yet, be locked in a mental institution until you comply with societies standards.   

You're always told what time is right to grieve, what colors you should where, and how strong you should always be.  Then you learn to keep the grieving inside, or where you're colors mixed with theirs, and only break down when you're alone.  You learn that no matter how much you want something, life isn't going to comply, even if you worked your ass off for it.  

And that, my friends, is exactly what makes the small portions of happiness so scary.  As soon as you get it, you learn to enjoy it for the time it's there, because that time, won't be very long.  

And that is exactly what's so scary.

I'm not editing or even spell checking this post.  This is something I needed to get out, something I maybe should have done a long time ago, and maybe something I should say face to face with someone, but I don't think I'm ready for that.  Words have always been my thing, but not the verbal kind.  So this is what I had to say.  Leave it, take it, bury it, or forget it.  Either way, we all have our own darkness and we all are afraid of something. 

You know, I'm not a person who gets sick very often.  Even now I'm not really sick, not in the my body has an infection sense.  Still, thinking I had an ear infection I went to the doctor.  My allergies are what's causing the problem.  They are so bad they're clogging my eustachian tubes.  However, if left untreated it can turn into an upper respiratory infection.  Yeah, I so don't need that.  

So anyways, my husbands company had decided to change the health insurance a few months ago.  Instead of going through a secondary company to get insurance, they realized it would be cheaper if they got it themselves.  Same insurance company, same plan, just no go to guy in between.  Not a big deal.  I talked to the rep a few weeks ago everything was going fine, there were no kinks.

So in a world where Murphy's Law reigns supreme, what do you think happened?  Yup that's right.  There was a glitch.  Apparently on the one day I went to the doctor they were having a twenty four hour switch over period or some crap.  This was Thursday.  It's not Monday and I still don't have my prescriptions because these people can't get their thumbs out of their butts and onto the keyboard long enough to fix their mistakes.  I'm pretty broke, so I can't afford to pay the full price of the meds.  Oh the insurance company would eventually reimburse me, but I'm so not rich, and I'm becoming infuriated with these people.  Oh they gave me numbers to the policy to call into the pharmacy with, yeah they were wrong.  Today at some point, I'm going to call them again and when I do they are not going to be happy.  I'm going to bitch them out, in the nicest way possible.  You know how you're absolutely so kind and wonderful to someone, yet at the same time make them feel no bigger than cockroach poop?  Yeah, I think I'm going to do that.  I'm not normally so mean, but I need my medicine and I'm done being screwed around.

In good news Jenn has woken up and been taken off the ventilator.  The internal bleeding has stopped, oh and hopefully she'll be on her way to Tampa for a transplant eval.  She can't talk to so well due to the fact she had that tube down her throat for so long, but we get a few words here and there, and just hearing her voice, no matter how hoarse, is always reassuring.

Oh, and after months of tedious searching, I have finally found a new writing buddy.  We hit it off straight away and just started our writing schedule this week.  We both decided either the fates brought us together, or we're sharing the same muse and she got it in her head that we'd make great buddies.  Either way, they were right!

I know, I know, I've got to update more, but there's been a lot going on.  Job interviews, writing, talking with P (new buddy) and dealing with the normal stress of day to day life, which for some reason never seems to slither away.  Ah well, what's life without a little bit of challenge?  All righty then, I'm gone!

Brian, my hubby calls me at 10:30am from work.  This is unusual.  The norm is that he calls me at 11:30am on his way to lunch.  

Me:  Why are you calling me this early?  Is everything okay?

Brian:  No, I got a call from my dad this morning and Jenn isn't doing to good.

(Jenn is Brian's sister.  She's been in the hospital while we await the results of her open lung biopsy.  Her lungs have been deteriorating and the end result is that she has chronic rejection and needs another transplant.)

A worried sigh escapes my lips, though I move the phone so that Brian doesn't hear.  

Me:  What happened?

Brian:  Jenn started bleeding internally last night.  They had to give her five units of blood.  On top of that her kidneys are only working at fifty percent.  They intubated her again as well.

Me:  What caused the internal bleeding?

Brian:  They don't know.  They're going to do a cat-scan to find out.  My dad is going to call me when they know and then I'll call you.

After saying our I love you's and goodbyes, I sat there thinking, this is so not good.  They finally figure out what's wrong with her, and are even willing to go out of state to get her a new set of lungs and then this happens.  We don't even know why as of yet and all we can do is play the waiting game to see what's wrong and if it can be fixed.  I HATE, LOATH, DESPISE, DETEST, AND WHATEVER OTHER SYNONYMS MY MUDDLED BRAIN CAN'T THINK OF RIGHT NOW, WAITING!  

Hasn't the girl been through enough?  Born with Cystic Fibrosis, couldn't have much of a child hood because she was always sick, has had more surgeries than I have fingers, toes, and then some, finally gets a set of lungs that allow her to have a life for a few years, and now she's going through chronic rejection.  On top of it she begins to bleed internally, and her kidneys are only working at fifty percent.

Yes, I know I'm being repetitive, but I'm angry, and scared.  She's defied the odds so many times before, I had it in my head she'd do it again, but she just keeps getting worse.  She's been my sister for ten years.   It's killing me that this is happening to her.

So, I'm praying to the Gods for a miracle.  I'm praying that whatever caused the bleeding is fixable and they are able to get her kidneys up to par again.  Then, I'm praying that we find a set of lungs.  I know it's a lot to ask for, but honestly, she's worth it.  She's been a fighter her entire life.  Jenn is the strongest woman I have ever met, and probably ever will meet.  So, while I wait, I'm praying, hoping, and wishing upon stars that she'll pull through this.

As the title says I had a most excellent weekend.  My brother came up with the clan.  Isaac is 11, Sarah is 10, and Moriah is 8.  My beautiful nephew and nieces.  They arrived on Friday and in preparation for the festivities I bought an extreme amount of junk food for the kids to eat, including, but not limited to, a ginormous cookie tray filled with multiple varieties, rice crispy treats, granola bars, honey buns, etc, etc.  I only get to see them once in a while so junk food is a must.  They also got plenty of water balloons and water guns to run around the property with, but really their favorite thing to do is ride around the golf cart by themselves.  Or take one of us for a ride so long as they are driving.  We're down a dirt road on seven acres of land, so yeah they can joy ride.

My friend Russ, a very creative individual, has created a new hilarious blog called, Raising Bad Kids.  If you want a few laughs go on over there and check it out.  http://raisingbadkids.blogspot.com/ 

I've been MIA for a while I know.  Sorry about that.  Between writing, paintball fights, drama, sick family members, and my ailing 3 1/2 month old computer, I've been kind of busy.  Yes, my 3 1/2 month old computer is probably going to die.  At least that's what we think since it was very close to doing that yesterday.  I was on the phone with Dell for quite a while trying to get it fixed.  It's up and running now, so I was able to copy everything important onto my external hard drive, but it's making funny noises and my brother and I are both in agreement that it may take a huge dump soon.  If that's the case, it's under warrantee so Dell will have to fix or replace it.

Brian, my husband, has been having horrible back pains since he fell into a ditch a few weeks ago.  I took him to the Ortho and they said he hyper extended the joints and muscles.  Not much to do for that except let them heal.  It takes a while.  Then he somehow ran over his own foot with the lift severely bruising his big and pinky toe.  Yes, my husband is a clutz but I love him dearly <3.

Jenn, my sister in law is back in the hospital with a mixture of pneumonia and pseudomonis (a bacterial infection in her lungs).  They are currently looking for a new transplant center because the one she presently goes to for some reason doesn't think she's a top priority anymore.  In the meantime she's at another hospital getting better treatment until they can find a permanent replacement.  Brian and I are going down to Ft. Lauderdale this weekend to see her.  Things are apparently bad enough that no one knows which way it will turn.  Jenn is getting to the point where she is tired of fighting, and while I can understand that, she's not a quitter.  Every time a doctor tells her she's going to die she gives them a nice big ol' slap in the face and lives.  

I'm not stupid or naive.  I know she's not going to live forever.  They gave her five years after her transplant and just at the five year mark is when things started going down hill.  She's not going to be around forever as much as we all want her to be, but she's a fighter, she always has been.  Jenn is the type of woman who shows other people what it means to be strong and how to survive when the odds are against you.  She's twenty four years old, smart, beautiful, and feisty as hell.  I know she's tired, but she's said that before and always winds up pulling through.  I believe that's going to happen again.

My mother went for an MRI and is currently having a freak fest because they think they may have found something behind her left eye.  The thing of it is she has a cap there, so it might just be that.  She's blind in that particular eye from a childhood accident, so it could one of many things.  She went for the MRI because she keeps having this pounding sensation in her ears.  Her heart was ruled out, the ENT said it wasn't her ears, so they did the MRI to check her brain.  She hasn't heard from the doctor yet (which is usually a good thing because in my experience the sooner they call you back the more likely something is to be wrong) and has been losing her mind since last night.  I personally think the pounding has something to do with her sinus cavities or maybe it's her anxiety.  Until she talks to the doctor though she's going to keep thinking the worst.  

I haven't been able to read as many books as I'd like this month due to the craziness that has ensued, but I managed two.  Personal Demon - Kelley Armstrong and Rogue - Rachel Vincent.  I don't have time right now to give a proper review, but lets just say I was completely stuck in both of them.  I hated being torn away in the middle of the story because I wanted so desperately to know what was going to happen next.   Bravo to both of you!

On that note, I must take my leave.  Thanks Tez for the nudge.  Sorry I haven't been around much.  I'll try to update more.  Yeah, I know...promises, promises....

My sister in law is in the hospital yet again and frankly I'm starting to wonder about the competence of these doctors.  Half of what they are saying sounds like a load of crap.  

Five years ago, Jenn had a double lung transplant due to the fact that she was born with Cystric Fibrosis.  A genetic disease that affects the lungs and the pancreas.  Up until a few months ago she was doing great.  Then she contracted pneumonia.  When you have a transplant you're immune system is suppressed.  There is no way for your body to fight back.  Needless to say the doctors didn't expect her to pull through.

Thank the Gods she did.  However the stress from being sick put a considerable about of strain on Jenn.  Ever since then she's been in and out of the hospital.  At first everyone thought it was going to take time for her lungs to go back to the way they were, but after a few months she's still not breathing like she should.  

The doctors realize her lungs are getting worse.  There is fluid in the bottom of both and a slight blockage at the top of another.  There thoughts is, it might be chronic rejection.  This is bad.  If it's chronic rejection she's basically going to need another transplant.  That is of course if the transplant committee deems she is worthy of one.  She won't go back to the top of the list, but at least she'll be on there if they say yes and she'll have a chance.  If they say no, well then she just gets to go home and basically play the waiting game.  

They have put her on steroids to try and stop the detioration of her lungs, but if it is chronic rejection they can not reverse the damage.  So if they can stop the progress, but still won't give her a transplant she's basically going to be in a wheel chair for the rest of her life because walking across the room makes it hard for her to breathe.

Now, a few days ago they found bacteria in her lungs.  This could be what's causing the damage.  If it is the bacteria than they should be able to reverse the damage to her lungs.  So here's to hoping for the bacteria.  

They were going to do an open lung biopsy to see if it's chronic rejection for sure.  It's a very evasive procedure, but it would give us all answers as to whats going on and what needs to be done.  Since they've found the bacteria they are now saying they don't know if they want to do that.  Even if it is chronic rejection it's not bad enough for them to want to do this.  Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense.  Instead of being able to find out for sure they are going to play the waiting game to see if it gets worse or what happens.  FIND OUT PEOPLE!

Grrr....I guess what just irks me is that if she does need another transplant it's up to a group of people in a room that only look at files.  No one ever meets them or has a chance to talk to them, no.  They just look at file after file and play God, deciding who gets the chance to live and who has to sit at home and wait to die.  To me, it just doesn't seem right that your life is defined by what's in a file. 

But a lot has been going on lately.  Last Tuesday I had three wisdom teeth pulled, and was on pain pills for a few days.  It doesn't take a lot to make me loopy, so I was a little out of it.  My mouth actually feels a lot better now that they are gone.  The two on top were growing out sideways and rubbing against my gums.  The one on the bottom was rotted.  Part of it had already broken apart in my mouth.  The best part was the whole procedure was painless and only took fifteen minutes after the novocaine set in.  I have an excellent oral surgeon.  As messed up as I was from the pain pills though, I didn't do much writing for a few days and had no idea how my posts would turn out, so I just took a break for a few days.  The procedure was done on Tuesday, I only took pain pills till Thursday. 

Thursday though, we decided to take our neighbors horse.  They have a few of them, but the problem was that this particular one was being picked on by the others.  He has a few scars on him from other horses and he's only partially broken.  You can't ride him, but you can lead him around, though getting up to him in the first place may take a while as he is still skittish.

When we decided to get him, he didn't have an official name.  The neighbors had only had him a few weeks, but before that he was supposedly in a field alone for a year and before that is anyones guess.  So, the family started brainstorming.  My father suggested Sinbad, my mother wanted to call him Echo, and for some reason he just seemed like a Pip to me.  The neighbors called him, Buddy, White Boy, or Whitie.  For a while we couldn't agree so I just started calling him the horse with a hundred names as a joke.  When I was actually around him though, I still called him Pip.

We went out, bought all the necessary items for him and set it up in the yard.  It took the neighbors two hours to get a lead on him and then they just let him go in the yard.  Thanks guys!  So my dad, who grew up on a ranch tried to lure Sinbad/Echo/Pip in.  I'd say it took him about twenty minutes to do it, no sweat.   My dad the horse whisperer lol.  Anyways, we brought the dogs out so they could see him as they've never been around horses.  My beagle seemed to think that the horses tail was a new toy and kept trying to bite it.  Thank god he's been around dogs before and didn't kick her!  She's been getting better and it's only been a day.  She's just mad cause the horse won't play with her now.  He pretty much ignores her.

Anyways, I woke up this morning and went outside.  We've only had him since yesterday.  He was a lot less riled up, which was good.  We watched him graze and laughed as my beagle kept trying to get him to play and he'd just look at her like he was stupid.  Then, I found out, my parents decided on Pip.  I, being half awake, and half grouchy, was just like, okay.  After watching him all morning I guess they decided Pip fit him best.  Cool beans man!

This poor horse though hasn't been brushed in a long, long time.  We started brushing him out and hair just kept gobbing off of him.  In some parts it was horribly matted.  It's going to take us a few weeks at least to get his coat where it should be.  The good thing though is, Pip's in the middle of shedding his winter coat, so his summer one should come in nice since we're brushing him every day.

Later, while everyone was inside doing their own thing and the dogs were sleeping, I went out to see Pip myself.  At first he wouldn't let me come near him, so I went back inside and cut up an apple.  I found out that three pieces is the trick.  He let me get close enough where I could throw the first piece to show him I had it.  Then he took the second from my hand, but tried to walk away.  So, I gave him a third piece and suddenly we were good buddies.  I didn't need to hold his harness or anything.  He just stood there and let me pet him and scratch behind his ears.  He never took off.  We sat there and chit chatted and had a grand old time.

The horses on the other side of the fence were a little bit perturbed that I was giving Pip all the attention as he was once the low man on the totem pole and they picked on him.  They were swaying their heads back and forth, stomping the ground, and kicking at the fence because I wouldn't pay them any mind.  I think that tickled Pip a bit being the shining star and all.

He got a little bit upset when I grabbed onto his harness and tried to pull away.  I stepped in front of him and rubbed the side of his face, telling him it was all right.  It was time for dinner.  He went willingly with me after that.  We waited by his feed bowl while mom got the food.  A couple of the buckets clanged together and Pip started to pull away again.  I talked soothingly to him as mom came over, letting him know no one was going to hurt him.  As soon as he saw the food go in though he was a happy camper.

Pip is a very sweet horse.  I just think he's been neglected and hasn't really been around people all that much.  We plan on changing that.  He's going to be a very loved, very spoiled Pip.

In other news though, I have been writing since Friday, which is when I was sober again.  I can't tell you what my word count is.  I haven't checked.  I've just been trying to get the words on paper as they seem to be flowing smoothly right now.  Word counts and edits can come later, and believe me, they will.


Edit: Okay, see that's how out of it I was.  I didn't even know I made that post about my wisdom teeth before!  I wonder what else I don't remember....

Wow, so I haven't updated in a while.  Sorry about that.  I've still been writing though.  I've just been a little busy in real life so I've been neglecting my online one.  Lots of vet appointments and doctors and dentists.  Honestly, this post probably won't be the best thing I've ever written.  I'm on some pain meds right now.  I'm not incoherent, but I have a low tolerance for them, so I get a little loopy.

I had three of my wisdom teeth pulled this morning.  Hoorah!  I didn't feel a thing though.  No, not even them sticking the needles into my mouth for the novocaine.  I'm lucky enough that needles don't bother me.  Never really have.  The doc was great at what he did, even had me laughing a bit while we were doing it.  The nurse said I was way to chipper to be sitting where I was.  So, after all was said and done, I call my ride to pick me up.  This person shall remain nameless, but let's see I got a little annoyed after calling this person for twenty minutes and they never answered.  So, I'm standing on the side of the road, in the cold becoming irritated and annoyed.  I look like a chipmunk and sound like Donald Duck.  On top of it all I'm standing on a street corner, standing on top of a rock feeling like a damn two dollar hooker looking for a ride.  Okay so I'm exaggerating.  It was just a joke I made to my friend, Matt.  I gave up on my original ride and called him to pick me up.  I'm very lucky that I have good friends who will drop what they are doing and pick me up when I'm in a bind.  Of course he's actually the one who said I looked like a chipmunk and was talking like Donald Duck.  I wouldn't have it any other way though.

The hubby was pissed that my original ride bailed out on me though.  He was grateful as well that Matt was coming to pick me up because hubby was across the county line which is forty minutes away.  If I couldn't get a ride he was going to leave work, but he's glad he didn't have to.

To be fair I should say that my original ride didn't bail on me on purpose.  They went to the store and left their phone in the car without realizing it.  It didn't make me any less pissed off, but hey it was a mistake and it is of course forgivable.  Most things in this world are.

Then, not too much later, my mom informs me that a few guys got hurt on my dad jobs.  Let me explain.  My dad is in construction.  He is a Superintendent and he had a job on the turnpike.  Sadly enough some self righteous, ignorant person decided to speed through a construction zone.  He of course got to close to the guys and hit them.  Killing a father and son who worked together.  The car wound up in the ditch, but that's all I know so far.  My dad of course is not happy with this and I can honestly picture him cussing out the driver of the car.  I honestly would too.  Why?  Because there is no reason to be speeding through a construction zone where men are working close to the road.  It's just too easy to take their lives.  Maybe I'm a little bias because my father has been in construction since before I was born and through out the years I've heard the stories of people dying.  People need to have more appreciation and respect for the lives around them.  Even if you don't know them.

Sorry for the rant, but sometimes you just need to say what you need to say. 

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