Brain Death

I'm starting to think that work has eaten my brain. That, or cozy apartment living.

I don't know what it is. Things just feel... nice. The problem with me feeling nice and content is that everything just sort of stops. I do a lot of cooking and reading and play some video games and watch some shows and work out and sleep and take showers and use perfume that won't kill anyone and tidy up and it's all very cozy and.. nice.

And I don't know what to do with myself when things are nice, when I don't hate myself. I tried to stir up some self-hate yesterday when I decided to order some pizza and have a beer, but I didn't eat enough to make myself sick (three pieces is my limit in order to subdue an impending sugar crises), and I played video games all night instead of working because I wanted to feel sorry for myself.

Instead, I woke up the next morning and I didn't feel sorry for myself at all. I tried to start a bit of the old, "Oh, I am such a loser stuff," but it was half hearted, because, what am I a loser about? Because I ate some pizza and played Mass Effect? Seriously.

There are too many good things going on to hate myself over. Thing is, I have no idea what to use to motivate myself at all. You spend so long running on self hate (I need to be a writer, need to publish a book, need to experience things, need to date more, need to socialize, need to have a better job, need need need need need) that when you stop, well... needing things, what are you supposed to do to get motivated again?

I used to have this deep fear of falling in love, because I had this deep fear of loving somebody crazily and them not loving me back, and how that would make me weak and useless (which is probably why, until recently, I always dated people who were far more crazy about me than I was about them. I was too terrified to pursue people I was sick over).

And then that heartbreak actually happened, and yes, it sucked, and I was completely heartsick and heartbroken for months and it still aches a little when I think about it, but like any other hurt, it bleeds and bleeds and then scabs over, bleeds a little more, and heals over. So all you've got to show for it is that occasional dull ache.

And you know, in the face of chronic illness, near death, job loss, and staggering credit card debt, heartbreak really wasn't so bad.

So that's not so scary anymore. Now I have something else to face, which is finding myself without that motivator. I ran a lot on fear. Choking, pulse-pounding fear. Fear of being weak, fear of failure, fear of never being good enough, fear of lost potential, fear of, well, fear of fear. Fear of just not doing enough.

I was in the shower the other day thinking about how I was going to get to Macchu Pichu for my 30th birthday, and I was thinking... this is all extra time. I'm dead already, really. All this is just extra time... so much extra time. What a gift.

One of my coworkers shuddered the other day when I gave myself my daily lunch shot of insulin. "I just don't know I could do it," he said. "Stick myself with a needle every day."

"Well," I said, "the alternative is to die in 72 hours."

Some bad things have happened. Not horrifically bad things. I haven't been beaten, raped, shot, mutilated and left for dead in a ditch or anything, but some things I feared have happened, and I got through them.

A funny thing happens when you face fear. It's not an unknown anymore. There's no anticipation, no buildup. Death sucks. It happens. Heartbreak sucks. It happens. Being poor and homeless, relying on other people, shitcanned and deeply in debt, sucks. And it happens. And you go on. Or, in the case of death, you cheat it just a little bit longer. Never inevitably. Just a little bit longer.

Now, though, I find myself a little directionless. I have a great job, a great apartment, a book deal, an actual mattress for my bed. I'm comfortable with my body and my looks. I honestly have no complaints. I like my coworkers. I have few but good friends.

I just don't know what to do with all this. I went out on the porch this morning and transferred some of my basil seedlings into bigger pots. It made me so happy, that simple thing. Simple things make me so happy. Readying comic books out on the porch. Line editing Black Desert on my big new mattress. Reading The Sugar Festival on the bus.

But it all feels sort of... formless. Without real drive or purpose. There's no gearshift grinding there in the back. Nothing telling me to shape up or ship out. No self-hate, no fear. Just this vast stretch of happy nothingness. Some days, I just drown in it, I just let myself go.

And maybe that's what gets to me, that I just let myself revel in it. It's so strange to not be crazy or unhappy or... driven.

I like to think that I just pushed so hard and long to get here that this is just a lull in... drive, productivity. Life. Because though I am happy, I miss that driving force, that passionate desire to do, to live, to push. I need to find that again somewhere, but it's so nice... so nice to just be happy.

I worry that happiness is a dangerous thing. I worry that it's not something we should strive for, but just something you get periodically, a lull between the long stretches of darkness, like the short, sharp Alaskan Summer. Those three months of intense, gorgeous, beautiful life and sunshine that make the 8 months of winter worth it.

Thing is, without the winter, would I have loved those summers so much?

And without the promise of summer, could I have made it through the winter?

I don't know.

I just know that I feel like I'm sinking into a happy life of cozy softness, and part of me wants to just let myself enjoy it because nothing lasts forever, and part of me wants to find some kind of weakness, some kind of fear, some kind of motivation, to make it feel that I'm living on the edge of everything again. To keep me going forward when all I want to do is pretend the world is OK for just a little bit longer

In Which the Protagonist Feels Like a Troll

The work folks like to make offhand comments about my perceived high standards in men (which appears to be the only reason they can comprehend my singledom). Apparently, my inability to sleep with people I find physically attractive but uninteresting sounds pretty weird to some of them.

"I would take interesting over hot," I said to our DB guy this morning. He gave me this look of spurious disbelief, like I'd just climbed up from under a rock, covered in seaweed.

"I don't need to date a traditionally attractive person. At least half of my attraction is mental. If they can't keep up with me, what's the point. It's why I had to stop going on dates with that guy who had the big TV. He was deliriously cute and physically, totally my type, but when we started talking? Nothing. Nada."

Sure, I could have had sex with him. And I wouldn't have gotten off on it.

Maybe that's what most people who worship at the alter of pretty bodies don't get.

Pretty bodies alone don't do it for me. It's just so much meat.

Not that pretty isn't nice, and not that I don't have a type. But there had better be a lot more going on than pretty.

What I didn't tell them is that I think that my singledom has more to do with the fact that I enjoy being single than that I have particularly crazy standards.

But then, maybe that's the rub: I have to be pretty wild about somebody before I switch out my happy single life. So maybe I have some crazy standards afterall.

Just the way I like it.

Conversations with my Coworkers

Went out with my workout group yesterday, and while we walked over to the Y, one of my groupmates turned to me and said, "I had a dream about you last night Kameron!"

"Great," I said. "Was I typing a lot of things furiously?"

"No, it was this post-apocalyptic world and you were this... this avenging angel, and you had this flaming sword and you were leading this army. This whole army! It was so weird. I mean, flaming sword!"

"Are you serious?"

"Seriously!"

"You have no idea how awesome I think that is." Because seriously, people, that is FULL OF AWESOME.

"Maybe I just ate some bad chili," she said.

Ah, bad chili.

I love my coworkers.

Finished my Last Final!

School's out!

Now it's book writing all summer long! Yay!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

The guys at work helped me price out a new gaming computer for about the cost of my stimulus check. It's an amazing little machine with a flat screen monitor, 8800 GT graphics card, 4G of ram, and a sweet dual core processor.

Turned out the power supply was too dinky to run the stupid video card, so I bought a new one.

I bought a new one and installed it and the ginormous graphics card last night.

By myself.

When I plugged the computer in, it didn't blow up or anything! And I only had to open it back up one more time when I discovered that the CD drive didn't work. I'd plugged the power cable to the drive in, but re-located the data cable somewhere else.

And the fact that I did that, and can talk intelligently about that, makes me immensely proud. I love learning new things, and being able to do things on my own. After watching the not-boyfriend put together Steph's computer, I figured I was up to this bit of PC customization. Sure, I realize it's not terribly difficult, but the idea of it was intimidating, and now it's not so scary anymore.

Man, I love learning useful skillz.

I'm Always Looking for a Challenge...

(click to embiggen)

Writing: Do Not Want

I take my finals for my econ and marketing classes this weekend, and then school is officially over, major work deadlines and raise-related stress are done, and it's full-on book mode for the rest of the summer.

AND YES MY ENTIRE BEING IS REBELLING AGAINST THIS HARSH REALITY.

DO. NOT. WANT.

But it's time to face the facts:

It's time for the deathmarch.

It will not be pleasant.

There will be blood, and sand, and more people will die at the end of it.

But Nyx will learn how to shoot a gun, the red desert will fall into the right hands, and a three centuries old holy war will finally wrap itself up.

Um, this will also ensure than I see two more checks next year.

Let's not forget that there are now checks involved.

Which is probably part of my rebellion.

DO. NOT. WANT.

But it's coming.

Like it or not.

Google Adwords

Today's writing lesson: google adword haiku

I'm developing an incredibly broad skillset here at the dayjob.

In Which Summer Finally Arrives

It will be in the 80s all week.

(yes, I will be complaining about this in a month, but for now, it's a fun novelty)

Movie Night

(click to view)

Things I Can't Wait For

I have one more week of classes. Then the summer off for book work.

Seriously, that whole, "I'll work a full time job, take 7 credits of marketing and econ classes, move house, and finish book 2" thing was kinda stretching it.

At least I learned my lesson.

Other things I can't wait for:

We had our reviews at work. Raises kick in next week!

Pending a little light haggling with my boss (what they offered was actually very close to what I believed I was worth, insofar as a raise goes), I may finally getting paid what I'm worth!

And that's all I can say about that here.

Learning How to Write... And Write. And Promote What You Write

One of the great things about the day job is that I've been learning how to write in so many different modes. I've written training scripts, marketing scripts, brochures, newsletters, blurbs, SOPs, various scripts for franchise recruting videos, the occasional press release, resumes, bios, SEO optimized web copy, regular web copy, funding proposals, and much more.

It's sort of been a crash course in all of these different types of writing. It's involved a lot of research and a lot of trial and error.

The good part about learning that kind of breadth and flexibility is that when one of the two comic book artists here at work (yes, we have TWO comic book artists. What are the odds?) approached me about doing a project together, I was eager to see how I could use that opportunity to promote GW for next year.

I've always thought the God's War books would be awesome comic book material. I mean, wicked owmen warriors and heads being chopped off and guns and bugs and magicians and shapeshifters and blood oh my!

And it's cool "extra" stuff that you can pass out at readings, send off with signed copies, maybe post a free web comic on a revamped website of mine to drum up some interest, and basically just use to promote the book.

I spoke with my editor about the idea of doing a promotional God's War -related web comic or book; so long as it's promotional and nobody's making any money, it looks like that's doable. I'll see if it works out and run it by all parties once I actually have a sample concept in hand.

So now I'm spending a bunch of time learning how to write comic book scripts, which are a lot like movie scripts (hey, it's a good jumping off point to get there, too). The big challenge, I think, will be working with artists (can she please wear actual clothes? No, her boobs are not supposed to be bigger than her head. No, she's not going to end up mutilated in a refrigerator. Sorry.).

We'll see if the project works out; in the meantime, it's a hell of a lot of fun to learn how to write in another mode... again.

I also figure it's a good dry run in case I do want to do a GW comic book deal (or another type of comic book) for reals in the future. If I do this and it turns out 1) I like it 2) I'm good at it, then we'll see.

There are also some other promotional things in the works, including a re-design of my website which I'm trying to incorporate with my blog. That won't happen for awhile, since our web designer at work graciously offered to do it for free as one of his side projects (He knows I am a poor writer. I offered to pay his hourly rate! I did! But Ok, yeah, it's probably best if I put the grand that is my next book check toward my credit card...).

I have a lot of stuff in mind for the website, including GW extras, deleted scenes, demotivational posters, maps, etc. And, of course, a peek at the next series I'll be peddling after this one, which I am also very excited about, though it's at least two years away.

So I'm hoping there will be some swoony goodness to come over the next year prior to the GW launch. I have a crapload to do this year. Author photo, improved buffosity, promo brainstorming, local Dayton-arts-related people I need to contact to try and drum up readings and blah blah.

Oh yeah, and I have to finish, um, book two (20k to go! yeah, I've been stuck there for six weeks, but I've also been work-crazy and moving-crazy). Scheduled for a very leisurely personal August deadline right now (work has finally turned Less Crazy. It should remain that way through the summer, which is great, cause I have GW edits with the editor and book 2 to finish this summer. Being in a the tax industry is a pretty good thing, for a writer).

It's been a crazy few months.

Now that the gosh-gee-whiz-bang-wow of the book deal has worn off, I have a shitload of work to do.

It's going to be a crazy year.

Knowing this makes me so happy.

The Brown Bunny

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

But is it Cheaper by the Gallon?

The Office

What a horrible little show. I was surprised, at first, to hear that it struggled its first season, and keeps getting nudges and bumps and lots of help from corp staff as far as network scheduling and second chances.

Then I watched the first three episodes.

It's just not a funny show. In fact, it's deeply uncomfortable. The "humor" involves working for a tasteless boss. And the discomfort comes from the fact that we've all worked for (or deeply dreaded working for) a loser, clueless boss just like this one. These are the people who control your salary, your health insurance, your 8-12 hour workday. And they're utterly incompetent. But not in a funny way.

To add insult to injury, the only female main character is... the secretary. Seriously. And she seems to only exist so one of the sales guys can have a hopeless crush on her. It's just this side of insulting.

I nearly didn't finish the last episode on the disk, then realized it was the only "new" television I had in the house, and ground through it.

I'm sure the show's gotten better since it first came out, but I understand now why it struggled.

They kept this on an cancelled Firefly?

Seriously?

Home Again, Home Again

Have I mentioned how much I love my apartment?

Home again, late, delivered safely to my door by the Old Man. I'm hoping I avoided the stomach flu, but loads of folks weren't so lucky.

The con got easier on Saturday, and I had a better time and kept myself busy and went to a great reading and all I have to say about that is: WHEN IS BEN ROSENBAUM'S NOVEL COMING OUT DAMMIT???

There was food, and more food (did I mention it was Ethiopean food??) and I got to meet my fabulous editor, and there was more food, and strange introductions, and wild characters, and some folks I was genuinely overjoyed and incredibly suprised to see.

Overall, though, yes, it was kinda exhausting, and I'm glad to be home. I'll plan better for next time. This year was just kind of a crap shoot. Next year needs a proper schedule, as I've been told that God's War will be coming out next summer instead of next fall.

I have a lot of work to do between now and then.

And you know what I realized?

Cons are a lot different after you get a book contract. It's not so much fun anymore.

It's like... work.

Gah.

Wiscon

Do you ever get the feeling that you're the only one not having a good time?

I miss my apartment.

Socializing takes way too much out of me these days. The older I get, the harder it is. When I had a wingman at a con who enjoyed the social part, it was a lot easier to run around, but doing it all on my own? Incredibly hard. Massive amounts of effort.

There are things that I just am and do. And then there are things that take a hell of a lot of work. It's like pulling teeth.

And the weirdest thing of all?

Walking through the dealer's room and realizing I just had no interest in anything there. Seriously. What's up with that? How can I not desire books like breath anymore? What's happened to me the last year? Why don't I feel like I fit in here anymore? Has Dayton screwed with my head?

Coming here again is like coming here a different person. The Chicago airport, too... it's like visiting it for the first time. Everything is the same, yes, but me looking at it... it's all so different. Everything is just... different.

Something very strange happened this year. It's why I don't blog as much, why I don't write long rants. The thing is, I don't know when it happened. With the not-Boyfriend, maybe? Building a life outside of traveling and rocketing credit card debt and massive self hate. Since September life has been rich and exciting and *enough*... just living it. It's hard *enough.* I didn't need to make it any more complicated. And it was still, amazingly, such a rich life.

Maybe that's the thing. I wasn't traveling anywhere. I wasn't living in a big, exciting city. I had a book contract and a great job and suddenly, for the first time in... in my life? Everything was OK. I was OK with myself. I didn't need to bash myself in. I didn't need to seethe. When I look inward, everything just goes really quiet now.

I don't know what happened. A lot changed.

Or maybe it didn't change so much as it went into hibernation. The seething, angry voice went suddenly quiet.

Just this quiet place. A quiet place after a devastating storm.

And I'm still in that quiet place.

But the me that lives in that quiet place isn't the same one who has a blast at Wiscon.

I think things are just going to be quiet a little while longer.

I want to go home.

UPDATE: Well, it'll cost me over $180 to change the ticket so I can go home tomorrow night instead of Sunday. So I guess I'm staying the second night.

One for the Road

Greatest Hits

In honor of Wiscon, here's an oldie but a goodie:

"I Know Lesbians, and Lesbians Don't Act Like This": Or, I Don't Speak for all the Mostly Straight White Girls in America Who Eat Apple Pie

and:

Why Writing Colorblind is Writing White (a rant)

Four-word Amazon Reader Summary of "The Women of Our Occupation"

"Big bad brutal biatches."

Awesome on so many levels.

One For the Road

Wiscon

While at dinner last night with Steph and the Old Man, it was pointed out to me that memorial day weekend is THIS WEEKEND.

This knowledge took a deep moment to sink in while I stared at the calendar.

"I need to change my plane tickets, then," I said calmly.

Because for some reason, I'd assumed Wiscon was always the last weekend of the month. Which it is... the last FULL weekend of the month. But my plane tickets had me leaving Dayton on the 30th and getting back on the 1st. Because I'm retarded, and not all that excited about going.

I managed to get the tickets fixed for an additional $86 (yes, my stimulus check is paying for Wiscon), and now I need to tell my boss I'll be out of here THIS Friday instead of next, but all's fair and good in love, war, and writing conventions, so that's not a big thing.

I'm sure I'll have a fine time, but man, I'm going to miss the weekend. I've been having a really good time.

And lots not even speak of the book that was supposed to be done by now. It's full of suck, and I've been going through and pulling out great chunks of crap. I just want a fucking DRAFT, people.

After Wiscon, I guess.

There goes my expected buffer weekend.

One of Those Mornings

Man, I love my life.

I don't say it often enough cause I've been busy, but it's so damn true. I'm so happy with where I'm at, what I've done, what I've accomplished, where I'm going.

So. Damn. Happy.

Why Angry Women Are So Scary

"Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change."

— Malcolm X, Malcolm X Speaks, 1965

Because Joan of Arc Saved France!

My war propaganda love continues....

Workadoo

Surely, California Will Fall Into the Sea NOW!!!

“Our state now recognizes that an individual’s capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual’s sexual orientation, and more generally, that an individual’s sexual orientation like a person’s race or gender does not constitute a legitimate basis upon which to deny or withhold legal rights. We therefore conclude that in view of the substance and significance of the fundamental constitutional right to form a family relationship, the California constitution properly must be interpreted to guarantee this basic civil right to all Californians whether gay or heterosexual, and to same-sex couples as well as opposite-sex couples.”

BUT THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE.

Yes.

My life is mostly full of work and homework right now. And a lot of marketing considerations for GW, which I'm working on putting together with some other folks.

Also, there is writing in there somewhere. And Chipotle.

Sorry things are so quiet. At least, for once, it's a good quiet.

I Wouldn't Have

And neither would have my brother of the burst appendix or my sister of the Cesarean section.

We do forget this sometimes.

On Offer Tonight

Tomato pesto chicken rolls (rolled in parmesan cheese instead of breadcrumbs; parmesan is my substitute for all breadcrumbs) and fried carrots with garlic, rosemary and thyme.

Yes, I'm getting myself off the last two weeks' "I'll just go out to Chipotle/order in pizza because really, my check is coming!" mentality.

Two Year Anniversary

I came home tonight, did 20 minutes of pilates, cooked green beans and salmon for dinner, got a 93% on my econ test (holy crap!), and am just sitting down to finish reading a book of David's that I need to return to him at Wiscon.

What else did I do?

I did things I don't even think much about anymore. Calculated about how much the pilates would affect my sugar levels. Checked the insulin supply in the fridge to see when I'd have to make my next run. Thought about what ordering out for pizza would do to me at about 3am (groggy, pissing tired, muzzy head, incredible thirst). Decided I'd rather feel great tomorrow instead of crappy, and made a food decision based on that.

Bled onto a piece of plastic, compared that number to the number of carbs I wanted to eat and dialed out the appropriate number of insulin units. Took the hit. Ate some dinner, thought about how many units I would take if I decided to eat some dark chocolate afterwards. Decided to wait until *after* dinner instead of *before* to take that shot, in case I got full before I wanted the chocolate.

Two years ago, on May 15th, Jenn found me standing stock still in the middle of the bathroom in my Chicago apartment at about 11 at night, breathing heavily. I remember that part. I remember her looking at me with these big eyes and holding out her little hands and asking about me. If I was all right? Telling me to come with her? I remember, vaguely, trying to move toward her on heavy feet. Everything was hazy. Like looking through a gray gauze.

That's the last thing I remember.

I'd been very sick since Friday. Now it was Sunday. And things weren't getting better. It felt like I had the flu. Incredibly tired and achy. Incredible thirst, but then, the thirst had become a mainstay of my life. I'd been dealing with that for months. No, this was something different, different than the steady but inexplicable weight loss despite incredible hunger and thirst, the weird and frequent infections, the extreme tiredness and irritability and depression, the constant reporting mistakes I was making at work. All that had been going on for nearly a year. No doctor could tell me what was wrong with me. But this was reaching total-body shutdown levels.

I just wanted to sleep. If I could just sleep, I'd be fine.

I woke up looking into a bright light, lying on my back. It was an office type room. Some guy leaning over me, but I knew that everything was OK, because Jenn was there, and she looked stressed but relieved, and I knew I was safe because she was there. I knew Jenn had had a good reason for calling an ambulance.

I remember that I really had to pee, and tried to get up. They all forced me back down. Not that that was hard. I had no strength. No energy. Nothing. My wrists were so small. Everything about me had gotten so much smaller, less substantial. Weak. Why hadn't I noticed something was wrong when I lost all that weight? I'm not supposed to be a small person.

I was assured I had a catheter in, which I found funny because, you know, I figured I would have *noticed* that when they put it in, but this whole place was totally foreign. The world was still foggy, that gray gauze, and I was content to just let things happen to me. So I peed right there in the bed, and boy, that was great.

I don't remember anybody saying what was wrong with me. Maybe they said something about blood sugar then. I don't know. I know Jenn said she'd called work and let them know I wasn't coming in, and I was relieved. I know she then asked if she should call my parents and I said, "No, don't call my PARENTS!" In my hazy dream state, the worst thing in the world would be to bug my parents with something like this, something like... what? The flu?

But I didn't have to think much longer, because they were moving me off the bed and bringing me somewhere, into an elevator, somewhere, and that was it, the world was gone again. I was gone, and it was really quiet there.

I wasn't lucid again until late Monday? I don't remember. I know my mom told me afterward that Jenn had called late Sunday, the 14th, and my mom had seen that someone called, but didn't call back because she figured it was me calling late because I'd forgotten it was Mother's Day. She figured she'd guilt trip me a little.

She felt so terrible about that afterward that she remembers the anniversary of my diagnosis before I do.... it's Mother's Day.

You don't really think about much of anything when someone tells you you have a chronic illness. Or, really, what you're thinking about is 1) what do I need to do in order to live? 2) what can I still do, what kind of life can I have, with this illness?

The rest of the ramifications - what it will do to you, your self esteem, your work life, your personal life, your relationships, your friendships, your family, all of that.... that all comes later, after you figure out if it's possible to live any kind of normal life. Any kind of life resembling the one you used to have.

I used to be a different person. I was young and invincible and infallible. I was always right. I was always strong. In fact, those were all fronts. I was not strong or infallible, and I certainly was not always right. Most people aren't, but not all of us really think we are. Those things got me through tough times. I clung to them. When your hole world, your whole perception of self, is shattered, though, it's hard to cling to those things anymore.

In fact, I was a weak, selfish person, which was why when Jenn accused me of it later on it hit me so hard. I ran around in life with no responsibilities, not a care in the world, racking up credit card debt and blowing through relationships and blowing off friendships. When things got too crazy I just ran away. I'd run around the world trying to escape myself, but there it was, the whole time, just me. Me with all these things to fix, and no fucking clue about how to fix them.

The Old Man once said that chronic illness was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and to me. Being ill teaches you to grow the fuck up really fast or to just give the fuck up. You either figure out how to manage, figure out what's important, or you pack it in and go back to that quiet, still place that tried to claim you.

But you know what? Dying? It's pretty dull there. Everything just stops. Blackness. Nothingness. Endings.

I believe everything happens for a reason, even the shitty things. I believe lessons are repeated until they're learned.

I needed to learn how to love people, but not just love. Let myself be loved (that's still hard). I needed to have my heart broken (two or three times). I needed to know I could live afterward. I needed to pay grown up bills and figure out grown up finances. I needed a grown up job. More than that, I needed to stop being so goddamn selfish, to understand that it's not all about me, to realize what's really important in my life, to stop avoiding and then learn to get over severe emotional hurts.

Because at the end of the day it doesn't matter if you're weak. Everyone's weak. It's what you do with yourself, your life, how you relate to other people, once you know that.

It's realizing that your time is limited, or, in my case, completely borrowed. Every moment I get is extra. I measure out my life one unit of insulin at a time. I know already that they'll never be enough of it. I know I won't make it through the zombie apocolypse, or the nuclear apocolypse, or being stranded for more than a month in the Alps.

At the same time, I know that I can kickbox, I can run, I can have a successful job, I can take care of myself, I can live alone, I can (sometimes) be a good friend, I can date, I can laugh, I can be physically strong, I can learn French, I can go back to school, I can travel, I can have a house and a dog. I can write books. People may even read them!

I can do all of these things. I've just learned, over the last two years, to measure them differently. To not take them for granted.

None of us can live without other people. We're social creatures. It's just that I know that more intimately than most.

It was a hard lesson.

But it was the only way I was going to learn it.

So here's to two extra years (brutal as they were), and many more (less brutal?) to come.

In the Bag

Homework is done for the week. Another econ test on Tuesday. Why did I decide to go back to school, again?

Ah yes, because it's a neat benefit.

But only one class next quarter, OK?

Time to do some writing out on the balcony and clean up the house a bit. Have I mentioned how much I love having my own place? One of the things I was really concerned about, living on my own, was getting caught up in that nasty cycle of living-by-myself depression that I sunk into in South Africa.

I took a lot of precautions this time around. Taking classes was one of those strategies, as was having a balcony, a tv that's constantly playing old movies, Buffy episodes, and Carnivale, a WoW account, over a hundred unread books, magazines on hand, a gym two block up the street, a new gym ball and workout book, and a kitchen full of recipes. There's also those French lessons I should get back into.

Oddly enough, ever since I was diagnosed with the diabetes and got it under control, those black depressed days I used to have have pretty much gone away. Sure, I get stressed and tired, and when I was job hunting here and slowly running out of money, I was feeling low, but it wasn't black depression. It wasn't "God I want to kill myself I hate myself I hate everyone die die die" depression.

When my sugar's out of control, I can feel it clawing back at me. It makes me wonder how long my sugar was out of wack. Was I always processing/producing insulin inefficiently? If I had kept up my teenaged lifestyle I likely would have had type 2 at 45 or so, with my genetics. How long were things wacky?

I don't get sick as often. I was sick all the time in Alaska and Chicago (I never got sick in Durban, but I sure was depressed a lot; living alone in a foreign country with no money can do that).

I've told people that I understand a little bit what it's like to be crazy because I know how I get when my sugar's out of wack. When I'm low, I want everyone to die and want to crush in their heads. When I'm high, I'm tired and dopey all the time and make sluggish, ill-formed decisions. The sorts of decisions you make without really thinking about consequences. The sorts of decisions that really knifed up my life and the people I cared about in Chicago.

The more stable I am, sugar-wise, the saner I am. I've been remarkably surprised at my sanity the last year or so. It helps that I have a job I love, I'm down to one credit card (big as it may be), I have health insurance, a book contract, and a roof over my head.

That shit isn't anything to sneeze at either.

But you know, having been chemically depressed for three years when I was on the pill (and again for a few months when I went back on it at 25, realized what was causing it, and ditched it for good), I know what the fuzzy of that feels like, and it's weird to be black depressed free for such a long period of time. I'd like to think that some of this is also because I've been working very hard to curb my litany of self-hate, that crap I've been carrying around since I was a kid. Confidence doesn't hurt either, but you know... I think a lot of it is being chemically stable.

Severe depression is about wacky brain hormone levels. Keeping my sugar balanced and stable keeps my brain balanced and stable too.

It's pretty awesome.

Wow, that was depressing

And then, of course, I totaled up total expenses for the last six weeks and discovered I've spent $70 in Chipotle and $70 in pizza over the last six weeks.

Yeah, work was stressful.

CC #1

Paid off and cut up.

CC #2 back down to pre-moving levels. My next payment will bring it under 12K.

Yeah, I have a ways to go. But it's going.

Tra-la

Going Pro

One of the regular struggles of blogging is knowing when to say how much is too much (TMI). I share a lot of personal stuff here, and though some of the worst of my personal rants have been moved over to LJ, I don't exactly filter those as "well" as I could either.

As I've started dating in professional circles, I've ranted less-to-none about relationships that happen within them. Doing that was hard (non-writer-circle folks still get ranted about on LJ, tho).

The struggle becomes that I have more professional relationships (at the day job and writing) than I do actual personal relationships (this is true of most people, of course). The first person at the day job to google me announced his find to the rest of the IT team, and lo and behold, my the personal became immediately known to the professional.

Not that it wasn't already. I'm terribly easy to find.

But I don't want to roll over to an anon LJ and I don't want to stop sharing stories. A lot of the personal things I talk about here are useful to people because they *are* so personal. I have the whole bloody account of how to get an IUD, how to struggle through chronic illness, stories about dealing with an exploding personal life, struggles with strength training and skills and writing and personal relationships and commitment issues.

I like to share this stuff. I like the idea that somebody out there reads it and is inspired or changed or moved or somehow positively affected by it. I've received a few letters from folks who *were* inspired, and those are what keep me sharing personal stuff here, though as I grow up into some kind of strange "young professional" instead of a "wacky college grad" the fact that all that information is readily available could serve as a huge turnoff in future professional endeavors.

Folks know how much money I make, generally (I'm bound by our employee handbook not to post how much I make at the day job, but I've said it's less than I made as a project assistant in Chicago and more than I made as a temp just before I left Chicago). I like truth and transparency. I realize people can do harm with some of that. And that's something I need to be more aware of. At the same time, I don't want to go and hide everything over at LJ with a three-person filter. Because I mean really, once you do that, what's the point?

I write to be read. Most writers do. I've tried writing up rants and just sending them to myself. It doesn't work. Even when there's no acknowledgement from the audience - no comments, no discussion, nothing - there's something about having it all up there that makes it all so much less scary, that makes it all make so much more sense.

Seeing it in black and white pulls it out of that shadowy place of "you're not supposed to talk about *that*." If you can talk about it, you name it, you acknowledge it, and you move on.

Writing has made me a much less fearful person.

So maybe that's the truly selfish reason I post so much personal crap anyway. Because it's made my life so much less scary.

I got tired of being afraid of shadows all the time.

To Do

1) Stop eating pizza
2) Black Desert should be DONE, yo (What's another 20K between friends? It's time to buckle down again. I've been on a deathmarch at work since the first week of April. It completely destroyed my writing work. Novel writing came to a full stop in order to make my work project deadline)
3) Workouts, yo. Two a week and my fives-days-a-week free weights aren't going to cut it. It's time to cardio hard.
4) Homework. I'm behind again.
5) Whatever happened to my French lessons? I need to get back on that to.
6) But, first things first: no more pizza. No more going out. It's killing my sugar and my pocketbook. It'll help to ease out of the work deathmarch.

Vacation at the end of the month!

Then maybe I'll actually have the headspace to start book 3 and start posting actual blog posts again! Miracle of miracles!

The Check is Arrived!

I'll be able to pay rent in June after all!

3K pays off the credit card, leaving me with one credit card to go! The other 2.5K goes onto the other credit card (and 3K goes into the bank for taxes).

This last CC is the big one, the albatross (the one that got me around the world - several times - and got me through 6 months without health insurance and two moving expeditions), which all future checks will go to until it is gone (about a year and a half).

But then, people, BUT THEN:

Dog and a house, yo. Dog and a house.

Torchwood

I like that her boyfriend is boring and normal and cooks her dinner and babbles on domestically about nothing at all, all full of squishy affection.

Yet I tend to only fall hard for people who are just this side of nuts.

I get bored otherwise.

Yeah, I'm trying hard to grow out of that.

There's just no future in it.

But I do have mixed feelings when I get the flipside view of what partnering up with a loving, normal, but boring mate would look like.

I prefer my balcony-view and a life on the road. But a house and a dog might be nice.

Damn.

Yup (scroll down to comments). When God's War comes out, I'm going to get my ASS kicked. Yeah, I'm already preparing for that Wiscon.

This is why I love this genre. Cause people call all of us writers on our bullshit.

It's the only way you can get better.

Coming Attractions

On Friday, I managed to get WoW working on my computer. This boon, paired with a gentle nudge from Jackie, finally got me off my ass, and I made plane ticket reservations for Wiscon. I already had my membership, and Jackie had a couple roommates bail, so there's really no excuse not to go except my own personal wackiness.

It's time to get out of Dayton for a vacation, yo.

It's a good thing, too, because according to Bantam's website (scroll to the bottom), I'm a Wiscon attraction!:

Upcoming Spectra Author Appearances:

WisCon 32

* 5/23-26/08 | Attending Authors include: Barth Anderson, Christopher Barzak, Greg van Eekhout, Kameron Hurley, John Klima, T.A. Pratt, & Catherynne M. Valente

Holy shit, yo!

(thanks, Greg)

Announcement

As of today, I have a microwave!

It is red. It makes me happy.

That is all.

Repeat After Me:

I work for the health insurance. That is all.

It's not worth my book or my sanity.

WoW finally chokes my computer

Finally gave in and bought WoW after the not-Boyfriend got me a two-months-free game card. Installed, ran out of space. Uninstalled several programs. WoW ran updates. Ran out of space again.

And it needs 512 MB of RAM. I have 507.

I'm not going to Wiscon.

I'm getting a proper gaming computer.

THIS HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH.

Inaya

I think she's an even tougher character to write than Rhys. But then, he was pretty tough to write the first time I took a crack at him, too.

Fucking shape-shifting, middle-class, mother-of-two rebel cell leaders.

Pain in the ass every time.

Fun With Low-carb Cooking

One of the things that got out of control last week were my sugar numbers.

I've been spiking all over the place (one 1am reading put me at a startling 397). This has been a combination of stress and bad food choices. I've been partaking of the free lunches at work (and breakfasts - they brought in bagels twice this week), going out at night or ordering in cause I've been too tired to think about cooking, and etc. Problem is, this type of behavior just perpetuates itself. You eat crap because you feel tired and crappy, and the crap makes you feel tired and crappy.

Three separate over-300 readings this week, lethargy, sluggish brain, and some crazy-leaning thoughts at work and at home (the sort where I'm able to go, "Wow, I'm crazy!" before acting on them, thank God) reminded me that it's time to get my ass back into gear.

The difficult thing about getting back on track is that I'm a total carb addict. It sort of goes hand in hand with being a diabetic. Comes with the same genes. Give me a few days in a row of complex carbs, and I crave and I crave and I crave. The longer I go indulging, the harder it is to quit.

So I sat down this weekend and put together some great low carb food to get me over the withdrawal period. The first being the Old Man's great pumpkin whip (I substitute fat-free half and half for milk and lite cool whip for whipped cream). The second was this great recipe for flourless peanut butter cookies (modified by me for extra low carbness):


MMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm cookies!!!

1 cup peanut butter (I found a 5-carb per serving peanut butter)
1.5 cups Splenda
1 large egg (I'm going to try 2 eggs next time - came out a little crumbly)
1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips (at least 60% cacao. I prefer 80% when I can get it)
1 tsp baking soda

Preheat oven to 350. Mix together peanut butter, Splenda, egg(s), and baking soda until smooth. Stir in chocolate chips. Roll dough into rounded tablespoon-sized balls and place onto ungreased baking sheet (or pan) 2 inches apart.

Bake at 350 until cookies are puffy and golden but still soft to the touch - about 10 minutes. Let the cookies cool for at least 20 minutes.

After that, I started working on converting one of my favorite old pasta recipes. I've been sick of eating low carb tortilla variations for lunches, so I started cooking up my favorite easy recipe from Isabel Allende's Aphrodite cookbook (highly recommended).

In this instance, I substituted spaghetti squash for noodles.

1/3 cup olive oil
1 cup bottled marinated artichokes (chopped)
1 jar pimientos (marinated red peppers)
1 medium spaghetti squash
2 large tomatoes
6 green olives
2 ounces goat cheese
Handful of chopped basil
Salt and pepper to taste

Bake the spaghetti squash at 375 for about 1 hour. When it's tender, cut it in half, scrape out the seeds, and then use a big spoon to scoop out the insides and put them in a big mixing bowl.



Heat up the olive oil and the oil from the pimentos and the artichokes in a big wok.

Chop up the tomatoes, pimientos, olives, and artichokes.




Now pour all chopped veggies and spaghetti squash into the wok with the warm oil. Add goat cheese and basil. Salt and pepper to taste, and combine thoroughly.



When I packed all of this up into tupperware containers, I got 3 lunches and tonight's dinner all out of this one big pot.



With a little effort, you can live on good, low-carb food. In my case, it's worth the added time if I'm going to get a clear head and optimal functioning for the week out of it.

Furnished! (the apartment-love edition)

The tree outside my balcony in full bloom....

Dining area.

This table used to be my pony workbench.

Perfect-sized kitchen! Would have preferred one open to the living room, but it's big enough for my needs right now.


My great living room.



Note the National Geographics on the back shelf there.

Oh look, my balcony! (the tree is obscured by the sun there)


My green but roomy bathroom....



Bedroom/study (it's a huge room!)



Walk-in closet!



Have I mentioned how much I love my apartment?

Yes, I realize I'll love it a lot less when utilities come due, but for now, it's marvelous....

21 Suggestions

Stolen from here. I agree with every one of these about 8,000 percent. Here's why:

1)Marry the right person. This one decision will determine 90% of your happiness or misery.

When I was 18, my high school boyfriend asked me to marry him. Twice. I freaked out both times. The first time, I deflected the question entirely. The second time, I had the guts to say no. When your whole body is screaming "no!" it's time to pull anchor.

I split from him, got three degrees, traveled around the world, lived abroad, signed a book contract, and got a cushy job as a copywriter.

Last I heard, he was married to another girl we went to school with, still in the Marines while she worked a data entry job. During their last argument, one of them put a bullet hole through the roof of their house in the ghetto-ass-end of Vancouver, WA where we grew up. Hearing about this didn't surprise me.

There's a reason I've been incredibly picky about my partners since, and why I've avoided mention of marriage in all but one of my relationships since. Picking the right partner is crucial. Picking no partner, in my opinion, is a far better bet than picking the wrong partner.

Too much hinges on it.

2) Work at something you enjoy and that's worthy of your time and talent.

"I want to be a writer, yo!"

Keep pushing. You get there. Sometimes, through sheer luck alone. But you get there. And trust me: it beats being a fucking secretary.

3) Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

It's the "Cheerfully" part that I'm still working on. When I give, it tends to be in either sheer terror or misconstrued as gruff indifference because I like to pass it off like it's really no big deal.

But selfless giving - when and if you ever get there - is incredibly rewarding, if done in the proper amounts (watch out for folks who take advantage). You learn a fuck of a lot about yourself. Sometimes you learn you're not good at it.

So, you try harder.

4) Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.

I'm not sure when this happened. I always figured myself for a pessimist. But you know what? I'm not. I'll belt out "Always look on the bright side of life" in a crowded theater. I'll bend rules. I'll laugh out loud - really loud - and not care who looks, or who stares.

Life is too short to care about what other people think. I live out loud. The folks who disapprove the most are the ones too terrified to do the same.

5) Be forgiving of yourself and others.

We all lose far too much time hating ourselves, and wishing other people would ask for forgiveness. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes you just have to do it.

I spent a long time hating everything about myself. It wasn't until I realized that being a rhino - though totally different from being a unicorn - was still a valid, powerful, sort of thing to be. And the ludicrous idea of trying to be something I'm not... trying to change a powerful person into a something so against its nature... well, now it makes me laugh.

But I still have to keep the picture of the rhino on my desk at work. To remind me.

6) Be generous.

When you're up, somebody else is down. When you're down, somebody else is up. When I have money to spare, I'm generous to a fault. When the rug's pulled out from underneath me... I had incredibly generous friends to help me get my shit together again. And you can bet that when and if they ever need me, I'll be there.

It's worth every moment.

7) Have a grateful heart.

Because if you're not grateful, who will be? And then, what's the point?

8) Persistence, persistence, persistence.

Hundreds of rejections, 11 books, 12 years. Chronic illness. Credit card debt. Job layoffs. Fall down seven times. Get up eight. Need I say more?

9) Discipline yourself to save money on even the most modest salary.

Because someday, you may want to trade off world traveling for a couple years for an actual house.

I'm working on it.

10) Treat everyone you meet like you want to be treated.

Kindness and respect cost you nothing.

11) Commit yourself to constant improvement.

And forgive yourself when you fall short. It's been a rough couple weeks of rest and adjustment. But you just get back to it again. It's a hilly road, but a road nonetheless.

12) Commit yourself to quality.

If you don't want people to know you wrote it, you probably shouldn't be writing it.

13) Understand that happiness is not based on possessions, power or prestige, but on relationships with people you love and respect.

Relationships. Yeah. That thing I still need to work on.

You'll note, however, that I'm still on speaking terms with my last two exes. That's incredibly important to me. That took a lot of strength and grown-up resolve to accomplish on my end, emotionally.

Cultivating friendships, too, is difficult for me... I don't know that I'm one of those people who will ever have a lot of friends, but the ones I have, yeah, I need to work harder at keeping them.

Bad at relationships.

14) Be loyal.

There's no reason not to be.

15) Be honest.

Not just with other people, but with yourself. Know yourself. Stop bullshitting yourself. The sooner you stop telling yourself bullshit lies and excuses about why and how you live your life, the sooner you can start building the life you really want.

16) Be a self-starter.

Some days, the only one who's going to kick your ass is you.

17) Be decisive even if it means you'll sometimes be wrong.

No decision is still a decision. If you're going to fuck up, fuck up big. Cause there's always going to be a 50/50 chance that your risk pays off. No decision pretty much guarantees failure and/or complacency, and - above all - fosters a sense of victimization. "Oh, poor me! Things just *happen* to me!"

Not if you're the one driving.

18) Stop blaming others. Take responsibility for every area of your life.

If you've been blessed enough to be born into privilege, you've got nobody to blame but yourself. And I count myself in that privileged group. I was raised white and middle class. I have an education. I have no one to blame for my success or failure but me.

My chronic illness is one that's manageable (more or less). And the person responsible for managing it is me.

Life is what you do with what's been done to you.

19)Be bold and courageous. When you look back on your life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did.

And you'll have a lot of great stories.

I've done a lot. I don't regret a single minute of it.

20) Take good care of those you love.

Even if they don't love you back.

21) Don't do anything that wouldn't make your Mom proud.

Lucky for me, I have a pretty cool mom.

"We Already Have One of Those...."

Heh heh heh.

Spamalot

Took one of my dates out last night to see Spamalot (yes, that's Clay Aiken now appearing in the Broadway version). Fun times were had by all.

I don't know that I'm crazy about the ways they chose to "reimagine" Monty Python & the Holy Grail for the stage. I was overly worried there at the beginning that they were just going to do a line-by-line retelling of the whole damn movie. In which case, what would be the point?

But they mainly just hit the iconic scenes and add in some silly bits. The interesting choice was to... well, make everything make sense. Everything was connected, there was the silly plot, yes, but this one had a resolution. They find the grail. There's a wedding. All the iconic scenes are full of knights Arthur brings on board.

What made Holy Grail so wacky was, in fact, the total lack of any real connection or continuity. It just made no bloody sense (they're taken off in police cars at the end? WTF?).

But there were some good numbers (Lancelot's being one of the best), and the highlight of the night was standing up with the whole audience at the end of the night and singing "Always look on the bright side of life." Which, of course, I belted out loudly and enthusiastically.

The tickets cost an arm and a leg (especially in Dayton dollars), but it was worth it. It's good to know that I can, on occasion, get a big city show (as it shuttles its way from Columbus to Cincinnati) in Dayton.

Seriously, this routine has got to change...

Crazy work all day to meet deadlines, come home, food while watching old Carnivale episodes, homework until 9:00, leisure reading and bed by 9:30.

It's time to get the writing, working out, and video games in there. Seriously.

Things have been in such an upheaval cause of the move I just haven't had the time to institute a proper routine. This one, I think, is a "recovery" routine. Keeping my head above water until things slow down.

I don't like it, so I need to work on changing that this week.

Yes, this is also why things are quiet here, and totally empty of substance. Work is taking a lot of creative energy right now (don't get me wrong - I love it! It's just... it's like crunch time for video game writers/designers, you know? That last hill before the launch when you're frantically getting as much done as possible in order to launch a product, knowing it'll still be slightly buggy and there will be things to iron out after the launch, but working your ass off as quickly as possible to make sure there's the least possible amount of bugginess for the launch).

Also, got hit with some more responsibilities. This job is really pushing me as far as being able to wear a lot of hats and succeed in many different roles - writer, designer/developer, salesperson, trainer, project manager, coordinator, customer service, etc.

If you would have told me a year ago I'd be spending time at my job reviewing film footage and managing sales and marketing projects, I'd have laughed.

Oh, yes, I love it... but I'm working twice as hard - with four times as much responsibility - and still getting paid my "tech writer" salary.

Yeah, that's supposed to change.

I'm also supposed to have health insurance that works.

I'm not holding my breath.

But life would sure feel a little less hectic if I had working health insurance and was being compensated appropriately, eh?

Yeah.

Le sigh.

New routine next week. Just need to iron it out.

Just like this project.

Stuff I Need to Work On

1) Getting into a writing routine here in the new digs

2) Cooking for myself again in the new digs (I'm so befuddled when I come home that making food just seems like too much trouble. But I don't have enough money [less and less now that I have the new digs] to go out)

3) Make a new budget. I have yet to put together the Official Budget for the New Digs. Mainly because I know it's going to be tight & moderately unhappy.

4) Finding a good source of laundry quarters. Washer/Dryer prices are obscene! $1.75 for a wash and $1.25 for dry. I brought $2.00 down with me last week thinking I had it covered. Oh no. Now I need to figure that into the budget as well, and plan to have the cash on hand for it (I no longer carry cash)

5) Fit my homework schedule around my writing schedule (and not vice versa).

6) Make a new workout schedule for the new digs.

I had a choice this month: Get the big work project done that's generating a bunch of sales revenue, or finish Black Desert.

I chose to get the Big Work Project done. It's official due date is May 1st. Black Desert's is next year.

And, let's face it: the day job pays my health insurance. Black Desert can wait an extra month to get finished.

Still. Kinda peeved about that.

Mainly, I'm teaching myself how to juggle. It's loads of fun, but sometimes it hurts my head.

Danica

Did it.

(though the coverage, as always, has to make mention of her looks. Do guys who make big achievements always have stories that include notations on their looks? Puleez).

Things that aren't silly unless you do them all at once...

... take 7 credits worth of community college classes (4 of those being Economics, with graphs. I won't tell you what my last quiz score was, but I did pass the first test) while leading a work project projected to bring in eight figures, moving to a new place (you wouldn't believe the amount of shit you realize you need when you go from renting a room to being an actual Adult), finishing the second book of a 3-book contract, attempt a social life, and work out how I'm going to pay for a gaming computer next month when the stimulus check comes in (Ok, I will prob'ly put the check toward my big credit card in the end, but it's fun to dream).

Honestly, one class a quarter when you have a full time job and a book contract to fulfill is... more than enough. Two was...

Silly.

The rest of it is just par for the course.

Good Investment #1

.... a new mattress.

I'd been sleeping on the same old futon mattress for the last five years. After awhile, you just get used to it, and you think all mattresses are like that.

Not so.

Happenings

I passed my first economics test tonight! Yes, that's right... I got a C! Seriously, have you seen the graphs? The graphs, oh I loathe them.

Hey, I'll take the C.

In other news, I'm mostly settled now in the new place. Furniture was delivered and mostly put together. The not-Boyfriend dropped by and gave me an old TV that's pretty ghetto looking but has a clear picture.

We ended up going out to dinner and talking for four hours. It was a good talk, pretty adult, actually, and we covered a lot of ground. I love it when we talk cause we're both so fucking honest, and when he's willing to talk straight, well.. yeah, it was a fun, adult talk, and fun to hang out with him again. Hearing about all his latest antics, though... well, it was sad to realize that I've lost the trust I used to have in him. I don't know if that will ever come back. That trust has been pretty well crushed over the last six months. It's something that will have to be rebuilt, if possible. I'm not sure he's up for it. But then, I'm not sure I'm up for it right now either.

Suffice to say, it was good to talk, and to realize, once again, that though we're powerfully attracted to each other, he's got way too much bullshit he needs to work out on his own to make anything feasible right now.

And, let's face it, yo: I deserve somebody who realizes I am full of awesome! :)

In other news, there are dates and marketing homework and I just finished some grocery shopping. I'm taking out a date of mine to see Spamalot next week, which should be fun. I'm not exactly hooked into anything serious right now, and that suits me just fine, to be honest. I like going out and getting to know folks.

It's fun to sit around and snuggle on the couch and hold hands and go out and do stuff without having to deal with that whole "commitment freakout" thing - from me or from whoever I'm dating. I never dated in highschool, really, or even college. I didn't start seriously dating, as in, dating in the sense that most folks mean it, until I was 25. I have some catching up to do. I always waited until I liked somebody a whole lot, then fell hard, went monogamous, and battled it out for a year or three.

This isn't what most folks do, apparently.

More than that, though, you know, I really like my life. I like where I'm at. I feel confident and sexy and powerful. I love my job, and my new digs. I'm going back to school (and passing, if nothing else!). I have my sweet book contract. Now, all I need is a dog and a bigger social circle out here and a house eventually and I'm set.

See, the thing is, I got the life I wanted. Or, rather, I'm continuing to work toward getting it.

And I'm really happy with where I am so far.

Wow. This apartment thing was huge for my self-esteem, you know? There was just something I needed... I needed to be able to say I could survive on my own again. I needed my own space.

The life I wanted.

New Digs

Stephanie says: Boy, Kameron, you have a LOT OF SHIT!


Which the three of us hauled up two flights of stairs.


Yeah, that's a lot of shit.


And more in the bedroom.


Lots of shit.


But having the balcony was worth the stairs. Steph and the Old Man prob'ly don't agree. But seriously: balcony, people!


This morning: first pancakes in the new digs!

You know what I did after I finished eating? I piled all the dishes into the DISHWASHER and started it! It was a miracle!

Like CIVILIZATION OR SOMETHING!

More pics later today of the place all put together. I still have a load of stuff from Ikea coming in today. Those 30 years worth of National Geographics had to go *somewhere.*

In Which the Protagonist Falls In Love

It really is a very nice apartment.

Picked up the keys today, signed the lease, checked to make sure everything is clean and tidy and in order. Sat on the floor for a few minutes and let myself realize that I finally had a place of my own that nobody else was partially or wholly paying for (dorm rooms don't count!).

My own place.

It was a moment that put me in mind of how great it must feel when you finally own your own home.

I'm working on that next.

But for tonight, my bed is taken apart, my things are boxed up, and me, Steph, and the Old Man will be shlepping my stuff over to my new digs early tomorrow.

Welcome to spring.

A whole new year.

Curse of the Golden Flower

Pretty, but lame. Like a hot date you can just never get yourself to care about.

Goodnight

Work deadlines, project details, corp bios, film shooting, film scripting, worktime workout, apartment logistics (DSL, DP&L, adjusted paperwork dates), come home and continue to dig out the yard for patio project, catch up on Econ homework, eat, collapse.

Tomorrow: more of same.

Also, some writing in there. Um. Somewhere.

It'll be quiet here this week.

24-Month Theme Song

This has probably been the Kameron Hurley theme song over the last two years. Crazy does love company. Here's to hoping something with a little more sanity will come to represent the next couple of years.

I just hope that whatever it is has an equally catchy beat.

Gnarls Barkely - "Crazy"

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

Uh, uh

You Know....

... People who don't own books must have a way easier time moving around from place to place.

Just sayin'.

Ways to Finish a Saturday

Once the bush was out, we started digging the foundation for the new patio. With the extra dirt, we started filling in the old hole where the bush was and the low spots in the yard.




Then it was time for beer and dinner. We're headed out for some burgers and calling it a night.