Struggling recently. Feel like I don't fit in anywhere anymore. A square peg in a world of round holes. The worst part is that I think I've done it to myself by being so closed off from the world. I'm not sure how to fix this. Or even if I can as I fear it might be too late.

Blah.

Baking bread is like therapy. Cheap, tasty therapy.

There is something fulfilling about seeing a bowl of ingredients bake into something pretty and delicious. The smell of it wafting through the house brings about nostalgia for a past that never existed. A history where my mother and father lived together in a happy home. There was no anger, no resentment, no walking away. A past streaked pink and yellow and with joy and sunshine. Where words like “mental illness” and “breakdown” never existed.

Kneading bread is an almost primal thing. A way of commiting violence in the act of creation. Satisfying and yet it doesn’t shatter you like real violence does.

Punch... and the memories of a childhood puncuated with uncertainty recedes like the ocean at ebb tide.

Punch... and the realization that I have surrounded myself with broken people that I cannot fix stops breaking my heart.

Punch... and the mother that never could love and want me as much as I loved and wanted her fades away like smoke in the breeze.

As the cloud of negativity blows away, only I am left behind. I’ve said before that I am the ocean to my mother’s storm and my father’s rocky shore. These days, the sea is much more tranquil. Even the undertow of anger that has ruled my life seems to be weaker these days. I think I’m happy. After all these years of pretending to be strong just to get through the day, the week, the year, I finally have become what I always faked. There is now steel between my thin skin and my soft heart.

A sword tempered by fire. A lump of clay shaped and fired into something beautiful.

So when my mother contacted me for the first time in nearly seven years, I did not break. I didn’t even crack. The sea in my heart lurched, but the wave did not consume me. Am I numb or has that old wound finally scarred over, no longer open and aching for the world to see and dip their fingers into?

I once thought that I would never heal. I thought that the tragedy of my childhood would echo through my life. Now the past is a mostly silent whisper against a wall that no longer cares.

No, it cares. But it also remembers that one cracked brick doesn’t ruin the castle.

Have to run. The bread is done.

It sucks sometimes to be the only one in your circle of friends that has a child. Pretty isolating at times, to be honest. :(

My sister had her baby today. Lucille Grace entered the world via c-section at 7:15am this morning. She weighed 7 lbs and 15 oz. She's been transported to a nearby NICU due to some respiratory issues, so if you all could throw a prayer my sister and her family's way, I would appreciate it.

Dear Aly,

One year ago today, I saw the love of my life for the first time. You were smaller and skinnier than I expected, but you were born with your eyes wide open. You were not red and screaming like most babies I have seen. There was one pitiful little cry from you when you first came out, but the baby they placed on my belly was wide-eyed and alert. And quiet. Even brand new, you were busy investigating your new world. You hardly cried at all that first night. I think we were both exhausted. Being born/giving birth is hard work.

Since then, I have had the privilege of getting to watch you explore the world around you. Sometimes, it is frustrating, like when you turn my computer off, especially when I am writing. Sometimes, it is hilarious, like watching you on your daily scavenger hunt around the house. The other day, you brought a Guadalupe prayer candle and a spaghetti fork to me. Before that it was a romance novel and a can of baking powder. Today is was bingo dobbers and a measuring cup. I still have no idea how you find them. And yet other days, it is amazing to watch you discover the world around you, like watching you touch grass for the first time and seeing your initial cautiousness melt away to joy at what you had found. And you wasted no time in plucking a handful to come show me.

At one year old, you love bubbles and sweet potatoes and baths and yogurt and a stuffed monkey you named Babe. You love your dad and you love pushing buttons, both literal and figurative. You sleep between us at night, with your little fingers firmly entrenched in your mouth and your head resting on my arm. You usually wake me up by touching my face, my arm, my hair. Little fingers always exploring, exploring. Sometimes, you stop in the middle of playing and just stare at your hands, as if you are awed by what they can do now.

You babble constantly and say Mama, Dada, Nana, and Babe. You have long conversations with the stuffed monkey, me, your stuffed sheep, the cars outside the window, your hands, and sippy cups. You love looking outside and will stand at the window for long periods of time, just observing the world. We call you our little professor, because you study everything you come across and have an almost methodical approach to that study.

But that is where you studious nature ends. You, my child, were born with a incredible temper. Watching you in the middle of a tantrum never fails to make me laugh, though I imagine that this will be less amusing as you get older. You are strong willed and I often spend my time trying to out-stubborn you. You now know the meaning of the word “no” and have come to realize how much you hate that word. You have a huge personality for such a tiny thing and it never fails to surprise me and most everyone else.

Getting to be your mother, getting to hold you and kiss you and love you has been one of the defining moments of my life. You will never know how many wounds you have healed just by being here. When I look into your eyes, I no longer feel inadequate or unlovable. I know our relationship will not always be this easy, but I cherish how uncomplicated and joyous it is now.

Happy Birthday, my Aly Kitten.

Writing has been happening. I refuse to say anything more for fear of jinxing it.

I don't usually post about things like this because I think most of these "money making" sites are bogus or a waste of time. And I don't recommend things that suck to my friends.


Anyway, I recently started using this search engine called Swagbucks. It's a pretty decent search engine. Not QUITE as great as google, but it gets the job done. Here is the really cool part, though.


You make money from searching.


Seriously.


Not joking.


It's not a LOT of money, but it is a nice little bonus for doing something that you would be doing anyway. I've already earned a $5 gift card from amazon and am halfway to another one. It's only taken me about two weeks in all.


But don't take my word for it. Try it out.


Swagbucks

If you use this code, we both earn extra bucks off each other's searches, which is awesome. I've been really impressed with the service. So, if interested, just use the link above or go to Swagbucks to sign up. While it would rock if you used my name as a referrer, I'm not even talking about it for that. It is just something cool that I want to share with my friends.

If anything I have written in this journal or in my comments to various other posts in various other journals has been wrong-headed or just plain offensive, I am sorry. I still have a lot to learn obviously. So, I think I'm going to sit down, shut up, and let the people that actually know what they are talking about, when it comes to race, speak.

The last thing this discussion needs is another ignorant voice chiming in with good, but ultimately fail-worthy, intentions.

Thanks to kita0610 I finally figured out why I didn't want to stand behind the meme going around. Even posting about it in my LJ brought about responses that I felt like didn't reflect what I was trying to get at when I posted my frustration.

Race is too big of an issue to boil down to a meme. But I'm not going to remain silent. Therefore; a statement.

For the record:

I am not okay with this.
It is not about 'both sides behaving badly'.
It is about racism. Full stop.
Everything else is window dressing.
Racism will not be tolerated in any community I am a part of.

Thanks to kita0610 for the words and for the realization of what the big deal was with the previous meme.

Also, without context, this means nothing. If any of you are interested, there have been a lot of thought provoking and just outright provoking discussions regarding race and the marginalization of POC in the SF fandom. Read it. You might learn a thing or ten.

Here is a link to a listing of the various posts in this recent discussion: RaceFail 09 List of Links.

"If you think that anyone can be guilty of making a racist comment or performing a racist act, including you, and that you are willing to take ownership of your statements and actions, resist blaming the person who was offended, figure out why they were taken as racist, apologize, and not do it again, post this exact sentence in your journal."

You know, I get that racism is hurtful and harmful. I completely get it and I've spent a great deal of my life trying to get past a childhood that was rife was racism. I've spent years questioning everything I think and say about people different than I because I genuinely and totally believe that people should be judged for the character and nothing else. And I have struggled and STILL struggle to get past some of the "programming" from my childhood.

What I am having trouble understanding is why everyone is falling all over themselves to "prove" how much they aren't a racist by posting statements like this as a fucking MEME... I don't need to be shamed like a child. I am white. I live with a lot of innate privilege. I get it. I really do.

But I will NOT be agreeing to the above statement because I find it empty and ultimately meaningless. Actions speak louder than words. Even for writers.

Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.

1. Writing
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. Well, at least the world-building aspect of it. I can remember being only 7 or 8 years old and making these elaborate lists of peoples and places within imaginary kingdoms. I even do it now if I’m bored. Just give me a piece of paper and I can spend hours creating characters and places and societies. It is probably the funnest thing about writing to me and why I write A LOT of fantasy. I started actually writing down the stories that I created in my head after I left college. When I was about 20. I’ve been at it ever since. I finished my first novel a couple years ago, sold it, have finished a second novel, in the process of selling it, and am now working on a THIRD novel. I’m not sure if writing is my “calling” or my “destiny”, but I can’t imagine a life where I’m not telling stories in one form or another.

2. Role-playing
I haven’t role-played online in YEARS. I think the last time that I have ever felt connected to a role-playing channel was my second (or was it third?) go at Imperia. Unfortunately, personal problems always seem to creep into role-play with others. Especially in such a personal medium because people get attached to their characters. Some people think a small piece of them IS their character. For me, I always viewed Belle and Emara and Iome more as good friends. I still do. I would LOVE to bring any of them back for a limited run or a cameo, but I think there are too many burned bridges in all the places where I used to play. And I simply have neither the time, energy, or inclination to start over again. Now, I prefer writing to get my creative “fix”.

Now, I do love me some tabletop RP. I only participate occasionally anymore, but it is fun as well in an entirely different way. I’ve been asked about LARPing here and there, but I’m not sure if I’m entirely comfortable with the idea yet.

3. Velociraptors
After I watched the first Jurassic Park, I got into dinosaurs in a major way. I tend to have periods where I get intensely interested in something, research the hell out of it, then let it go. I did A LOT of research on dinosaurs and over and over again, I came across evidence about the intelligence and cunning of velociraptors. I really respect the idea of brains over brawn and sort of saw the velociraptor as an underdog of sorts that was just as fierce a predator despite not being as big as the T. Rex. Even now, I get all giddy when the velociraptors come out to play in Jurassic Park.

4. Alyssa
The love of my life. For someone that was never really certain about having children, I certainly have plunged into it head long. She is the first person I’ve ever known that I would literally lay my life down for. I worry so much about being a good mother and sometimes the love I feel for her completely and totally overwhelms me.

5. Phantom of the Opera
Sort of a bittersweet thing for me. It started with a song sang by a boy with a beautiful voice. I fell head over heels in love with the voice and the boy and I listened to Phantom of the Opera over and over during my sophomore year of high school just to try to recapture that first moment I heard him sing. That boy went on to break my heart and so hearing anything from Phantom usually stings. Just a little.

Make your own album cover

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit "random"
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on "explore the last seven days"
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.

Here's what I came up with:

Taken from various people.

The BBC allegedly believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here:

How do your reading habits stack up?

Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish, and underline the ones you want to read.

( Read more... )

So, I've read 38 out of 100. Not too bad. Might need to read more of these, though.

Life has once again dealt me a handful of lemons that I must make into lemonade. I'm once again unemployed. Just can't seem to hold it together long enough to hold down a job for more than a couple months anymore. Health is bad. Really bad. I hurt all the time, I'm exhausted. No clue what is wrong. I wonder everyday if I'm just losing my mind and imagining that I hurt this bad. Add in a heaping spoonful of personal issues and there you have the recipe of my life.

I'll get over this rough patch. I always do. But I figure since I'm in the thick of it now with now foreseeable end in sight, it's worth a bit of a pout.

Needless to say, all projects are on hold until after the New Year. I'm just going to survive the holidays. Then I'll jump back on the horse.

For now, I'm alive.