Posts (page 2)

Evil Mind

I woke up bright as a scared wee button at five this morning. Had a dream I was talking to my doctor about getting a tummy tuck. I've not had any complaints recently about my belly, so why, dear subconscious, did you have give me a horrible dream that has implanted the idea that I need a tummy tuck into my head? The Dr. in my dream was agreeing with me! He was saying he'd not seen post-pregnancy overhang like this for years and Oh - you didn't have cesareans? How unfortunate for you. Of course we'll fix this for you, you poor thing.

What?? I thought the floppy belly skin was a badge of honor. Battle scars! Something to be accepted but NO - now I'm thinking maybe I should think about doing something with it. I mean, sure 100 crunches a day won't do a thing for post-pregnancy belly hang. Are people looking at my belly? I mean I have big boobs so I figured the eyes always got hung up there and never traveled farther down to notice the belly.

Why? How can a dream suddenly make me feel so insecure about something I didn't previously acknowledge as an issue? I've been trying for hours to talk myself around this but it's got roots now. I kind of wish I'd had the teeth falling out dream instead. Tummy tuck?? Major abdominal surgery purely for vanity's sake?

Come on!! I mean, sure it would be nice to go on top and not feel my belly skin move. It would be nice to not have a muffin-top from superfluous skin. It would be nice to not have to wear control top anything. Would be good to see the muscle tone I've got under there and work so hard for. But where is the acceptance of self? Apparently it was doing sit-ups on the upstairs landing with me at 5:15 this morning as I tried to sweat those demon images and dialogue away.

Maybe this has bothered more than I acknowledged. Maybe I've repressed my belly disgust? Maybe I'm returning to belly disgust after a phase of loving myself regardless of belly flub?

Oh it doesn't matter, I'd never have a tummy tuck anyways so this is just wasted anxiety.

Love me - love my Shar Pei stomach. Or else I'll...uhm...jiggle it at you.

Bring back Hugh Grant, please.

SBD Series Dilemmas For Dumbasses (Like Me)

Well according to my feed reader, everyone's been kissing the blarney! Folks who manage one post a week were shouting out three times over the weekend. What's gotten into everyone?? I decided to take a break from the computer because the tension headaches weren't clearing up after drowning myself in filtered water - so not dehydrated then. Must be reading all those small, blurry fonts on the 'puter screen again. Why doesn't everyone use such small fonts? You all know how much I hate wearing my glasses. Have a care, you know.

So I read Black Rose by Nora Roberts. I know I said I was going to read Face The Fire but when I got a chapter or two into it and I figured out it was part three of a series and closed it. It took several page flippings from front to back and back again to find the snippet that says "Read this one first, then this one and finally the one in your hand, dumbass Dear Customer (Unless you got this in a library, where you're just cheap)." I'll go get the other two and read them in correct order.

Which kind of brings me to the complaint part of this post. When an author writes a series isn't in their best interest to advertise as such on the books? Bold and clear somewhere in/on the books? I found it really hard to figure out if the book I was reading was an independent or part of a series, and then just where in the series was this particular book in my hand? It was so hard! And even then I wasn't completely convinced of the series placement. I know I can be a bit lazy but I don't think I should be flipping pages to find out how to read the series. It should say on the back blurb "First in a series, read the other amazing stories blah blah blah"

Take Black Rose for instance; it's obviously part of a series, not that it didn't stand on it's own, because the characters kept referencing previous meetings and occurances. It's not until after the last page, where I expected a wrap up chapter and got nothing! It's not really finished, ha ha. You've got to get book three. Then there's a couple paragraphs promoting the other two books in the series - but it doesn't tell me which one is first, middle or last! How frustrating!

I know if I wrote a series, I'd want my reader to read them in order, even if they got it out of sequence I would at least guide them to the first and last books so they can get their bearings. I'm not saying this is Nora's issue as she wrote the books but the publisher probably made the decision to leave me flapping about wondering which book came first? Who do I write my letter of complaint to? Where do I start? I hate making false starts on books! Help us out a bit Messrs. Publishers, agents and writing world assorted folks.

So in reading Black Rose I think I got the middle of the series. I think it may start with Stella and Logan and then finish with Hayley and Harper. So I don't want to do the book review of this one because I don't feel like I'm finished with the story yet. So I'm going to have to go back to the library. Serves me right for just pulling books off the shelf randomly, I know, but even if I hadn't, I still would've had to ask the librarians how to read the books in the correct sequence.

What was that? Hmm-mm. Oh. Really? You mean, when you list all the titles the author has ever written, you're listing them in reading order? Oh, ok. That makes sense. No really it does. I'm sorry. I get a bit ahead of myself sometimes - can't see the answers for looking at them. I thought it was just alphabetical, or date of publication - but of course they'd be published in order. I'm sure this kind of thing happens to everyone sometimes. Right? It's happened to you I'm sure. No really...think about it. It has right? Of course it has. We're all dumbasses at some point. Ha ha ha.

Coffee?

I dunno.

Three nights in a row I've had dreams about Hugh Grant* . I do not know why. The last one was we were supposed to be somewhere, I forget where, and he was driving this landscaping truck that was full of decorative pillows at the back. The doofus was in such a panicked rush he forgot to strap them down so pillows were spilling all over the road. He's driving like he's running from the Mob, or something ; running red lights, two-wheeled turns, burning rubber, slamming brakes. I'm in the back trying to keep the pillows from escaping, not seatbelted or secured in any way, being thrown all over the back of this open-top, framed flat bed truck trying to yell to him to be careful, but he's doing his sputtering, can't talk coherently too busy thinking thing. Cars are swerving all over the road trying to avoid driving over the fluffy decorative pillows. Sincerely at that moment I despised him.

The night before that it was weird conversations with Hugh in a cafe/bar and he kept putting his hand on mine, but with a lit cigarette in his hand and I was worried he was going to drop ash on me and burn my hand. I kept thinking if I drink more liquor it will all be fine, even if he burns me I'll not feel it and maybe, hopefully forget the entire evening.

and the night before that it was just a replay of Sense and Sensibility as I watched it on Sunday afternoon since my SBD friends were talking about it. I've owned it for a year yet never watched it and was fascinated about this noise Emma Thompson makes when Edward (Hugh Grant) comes to see her with his big news - but I didn't get it. See I was mislead by the link to Vicar of Dibley who makes it sound like Emma barks, versus the emotional burst of crying, disbelieving, coughing, sputtering joy. She so didn't bark like a seal! *lol* I had to watch it like a dozen times and then double check I had a proper version, correct scene. I did. I'm just silly. I was looking all over the DVD for the Barking Emma. Like she was giving birth or something, indeed.

So yeah, what's all this about me and Hugh lately?

*(Is that not the best picture?! I laugh. I laugh so loud. And hard. Laugh with me, now. Does he not look absolutely ridiculous and with full knowledge of the ludicrous pose, whitest of white torso and the leather? Who thinks Hugh Grant = Leather??)

I thought all this time that I had a set up where when I posted to my blogger blog, it would automatically post the same here. Like a mirror or something, only not backwards. But I guess I was living in LaLa land again because that would be TGTBT.

I'll try and re-update and then pay closer attention.

I like Vox.

Of course disorganized mess is a weird thing to say but it is my life at the moment. Completely self inflicted and my worst habit ever. I create my own problems. Well, don't we all at one time or another?

So I want my house to be clean and perfect, like any house of someone you go and visit and there's no dust and you think "She must have hired help" but she doesn't, she's just that damned slick. Like Bree on that housewife show. I also want to be able to read the books I want, along with the books I need and then I also want to write the stories that have been popping into my head at every opportunity lately.

I told my subconscious mind a week and a half ago that this writer's block has been a plague for long enough, and would it please help me dream of a good story? That night it ignored me. So I asked again the next, and the next. Then one day last week I was walking through the woods, absorbed in a daydream when two words hit me; "Walter Mitty" suddenly I realized I didn't need a sleeping dream to find my inspiration because I'm constantly besieged with daydreams that I could use.

So I've been trying to pin down a daydream or two to use. The thing about daydreams is they rarely have a beginning, middle and end. They seem to be flashpoints of drama, typically the apex of the story or the resolution. I find picking the story backwards a bit hard. I don't even like swings because they go backwards for the half the ride, so working backwards on a story is a major challenge. So I asked you folks what your daydreams were like - not fantasies, but daydreams. There's a big difference. How we view ourselves in our daydreams through the eyes of others, the control of how they react - it means we're all storytellers for those flashes. You try and pin one down and write it out, It gets difficult when the conscious mind interrupts with things like "Isn't that a bit egocentric" yes that's the point. But day dreams aren't real life, and real life can't progress when full of daydreams. Hence, Walter Mitty. Thurber wrote an amazing story, there. And Danny Kaye in the movie version, although blown up and Hollywoodized, still. Danny Kaye was brilliant. Oh, He really was.

Right come back to the post, Lyv. See what I mean. I was trying to make a point about all this stuff I want to do, and I know how to organize my day so that I can achieve it all but darn it if I can't manage to get myself to actually apply the skills of self management when the internet is just so damned fun. As is my DS. And manga. And this book I'm reading. Photos. Online pinochle. The world is eminently so engrossing I just can't ever get a thing done. I manage to keep the clothes clean, and the house isn't throwing spores from neglect and filth, but it's not perfect. I feel I manage to do just enough to make it look like I put in a bit of effort, and that I was just so busy I couldn't manage everything and so far; no one else is bothered.

But I know I'm a slacker, always have been and may always be, and I don't want to be. I'd love to be neat, tidy, slick and in control. An hour of light tidy every morning after breakfast, two hours of writing with 45 minutes of personal mail and blogging, then lunch and get Shorty off to school, an hour at the gym, come home and wash and swap the wet laundry into the dryer before going to get the kids after school. Come home and help kids with homework and get them to tidy their room a bit, change sheets on beds, start prep for dinner. Then after dinner get the kids bathed and off to bed, sort and fold the laundry all ready to be put away in the morning. An hour of study, Pack lunches, tidy kitchen, wash dishes and then I can get maybe an hour of TV before bed. Yeah. See that would work. *sigh*

So I'm writing. It's not going badly, apart from the awful voice in my head that tells me every sentence I write is absolute shit. I just have to tell it to shut up. Just shut up. All of a sudden, now that I'm writing again, I'm having nightmares. Last night I got one the minute I fell asleep, I woke up twenty minutes later and had to go for a glass of water. Twenty minutes of sleep! All down to anxiety, and in this dream the anxiety was a Tyrannosaurus Rex, stomping through my house, destroying it in its attempt to find me and Shorty. Shorty kept crying, and I couldn't calm her down. Then she runs away from me, and I can the T-rex spot her and I go to grab her back. Ugh! it's just annoying. I know it's all me running from my fears, and great that my subconscious mind makes those fears into the shape of a carnivorous dinosaur. So real and yet completely extinct. Defunct. Non-existent.

I do find it weird that my personal battles are fought between sloth and a T-rex.

I think what I need is to remind myself that perseverance is one of those traits that takes practice like everything else, and above all, I want to persevere.

per·se·vere (pûr'sə-vîr') intr.v.   per·se·vered, per·se·ver·ing, per·se·veres
To persist in or remain constant to a purpose, idea, or task in the face of obstacles or discouragement.

I wonder how I could get that to look like a nice tattoo? The right font, the right place...Hmmm....

Ahhh! I should become a Ninja! The character for the word nin in ninja means ‘to endure’ or ‘to persevere’. It combines the character for knife on top of the character for heart, it means to go on despite having your heart under the knife!

Thus, a ninja is somebody who perseveres with his heart’s intentions even under threat or pressure.

This ninja philosophy is really simple to remember, and is summed up in 2 words: keep going.

Is there a character for having one's heart in the jaws of a hungry dinosaur? Probably not.

Imagine if you will that you are a mousy, quiet never raise your voice or argue kind of person. You are often taken advantage of and are quite the pushover. But in your daydreams you are a hero, a master and an admired expert. What are your daydreams when you are the best there can be? What triggers these daydreams? Share with me your fantasies of when you are the absolute best person on this Earth.

So I'm rather annoyed with the American Govt. They went and changed the passport applications and rules of application a few weeks ago and never told me about it. So all the forms I researched, printed, organized into poly-pocket folders and post-it noted and was so damned slick and perfect you'd be dead impressed with my attention to details: fucking useless! We still ended up sat in a hot busy office with me refilling in forms and shoving birth certificates, marriage certificates and yes - they even took a photocopy of my blood donors card. I'm not lying!

See, I'm first of all, very, very bad. I let my passport expire about five years ago. I've not made any plans to go anywhere so it never became an issue. But apparently I've left myself in a very vulnerable position by doing so. So I got the finger waggle and stern look from the lady on the other side of the bullet-proof glass. Also, I don't have a driver's license so in all reality: I have no proof of ID. Funny enough, that never stopped the banks from giving me credit cards.

The big new rule they changed in February was that to get Shorty her passport and register her as an American citizen, I must prove that I lived in the USA for five consecutive years, and two of those years must be after the age of fourteen. I'm currently praying that my schools - because I changed high schools in tenth grade - will still have that information on file. So I've spent my morning sending e-mails to the two out of three of the schools (one doesn't have e-mail - how dumb is that?), with fingers crossed, that I'll be able to get my transcripts, and that they'll post them internationally. Actually, I'm hoping that the Consulate will be happy to take printouts, as it would save all of us a ton of grief for them to e-mail the mail and I print it out. But this is the consulate we're talking about. Chance would be a fine thing, as they say.

I seriously hate this kind of shit.

the other annoyance is the woman behind the counter was 100% prepared to assume I knew jack shit and did everything wrong. She said to me "You've obviously not looked at the website" well yes I did, extensively, in December and January when I got all of my paperwork together; it's not my fault the rules changed a few weeks later. She nearly shrieked at me for not filling in the information about my American address - I don't have one! I'm a permanent resident here in the UK. She'd then flip through my passport in an angry manner through the large variety of stamps and visas I've accumulated over the years to find the numbers to prove my statement, with an exaggerated sigh. Not my fault, not my problem.

In the hour we were there, four other families came in to register their births and get passports for their babies, and every one of us got the same spiel. So I'm not alone, and Ms. StroppyPants can eat me.

At least SassyFace's and my passports will be processed. It's just the new info for Shorty that's required. Such a frustration.

I'm positively devouring the Death Note books. The stories are completely awesome. I'm so sad...and yet it's brilliant. The attention to details in the drawings is fabulous. If you like manga or comic books - get this series. It's just Awesome.