Oh My God!
I know that's what you all must be saying since I am posting after falling off the face of the earth. The best I can say about my life right now is: Everything changes and everything stays the same.
Had a long talk with Triston about still being in love with Evan. Trying. Sometimes I think if I could stop dreaming about him it would be easier. Sometimes I think the dreams keep me sane. The ones in which he professes his love are almost worse then the ones in which he tells me he's indifferent to me, I wake up sad that it isn't real. I said it when I met him and now I live to regret it: "There is a certain delicious torment to the desire for someone you can't have." But I hold to the idea that hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. I have hope, which makes for greater pain and the possibity of even greater joy. Hope for him, hope for someone at all to walk with down a road that has been so lonely. In facing my greatest fear, loneliness, I find that I truly can survive anything. I wanted a partner and I got that. Love will come too, or not. I can't force things. Suddenly believing in destiny lends a certain comfort.
In the mean time I totally head over heels for a short, fat, nearly bald little man. Oliver brings a new sense of joy to life. Each day I discover anew my love for him. Tyler got the short end of the stick being born first. Now I know what I have and I cherish it. I set aside a time each day just to hold Oliver, to tuck his little head against my chest and feel his weight. He's three months old and I swear to god he was born just yesterday. Tyler becomes more of a little boy everyday, with challenges to go along with that. We're battling a case of the gimme's and he is suddenly being forced to learn that the universe does not revolve around him; indeed that there is a universe outside him at all. But all of that is just part of being three-almost-four. He's a good little boy, his main problem is that he's high-strung. Hmm? Who do we know like that? He's happiest when you are letting him help, he really just wants to be loved and it's nice to know that all I have to do is love him for him to grow up a good boy. We're still having a hard time with the potty training, mostly he just can't seem to be bothered. This week I'm going to try a new tactic, giving him a choice. Each morning I'll ask if he wants a diaper or his underwear. Give him a measure of control. We'll see.
Something that amuses me. Everyone who knows me well at all knows I want to be an author. How amusing would it be if the first thing I publish is something I don't want to show people I know for fear of what they might think of me? Certainly my parents would have a hard time accepting the darker side of my imagination. Ah, the irony of realizing a dream and being unable to share it. (I'm working on a story to submit to a horror-sex magazine called Cthulhu Sex; not sure I want to show either of my families my name in a magazine whose tag line is "Blood, sex, and tentacles.")
I want a new tattoo! Evan got his finished (finally) this past Thursday and it makes me itch to get another. I want the Chinese character for phoenix on my left arm. I also have an idea for a large tattoo on my back involving two dragons, tattooing corset lacings down my sides, and possibly a dragon twined about my right forearm and a phoenix on my left forearm. I have determined that the proceeds from the first sale of my work will get inked into my flesh. Hell, if I manage to make a living writing I certainly won't have to worry about corporate dress codes, and everything will still be concealable. My poor mom's head would explode. Anybody know anyone who's really good at drawing dragons?
I think that's about it for the time being. Must to be getting to work on background notes for SLCLarp NWOD game character. Forsaken. I'm playing E-Rock's sister. Irraka Blood Talon. Much violence and unpleasantness, including drug addiction and rape, barely escaping death at her brother's hands during his first change, and various and sundry emotional issues. Why do my characters always have screwed up histories?
Until next week, when I shall describe my idea for a book about tattoos and update you on my progress toward becoming a self-supporting writer. (Did I tell you guys I decided there is no downside to this? Work from home means no babysitters, I get all the emotional benefits of being a stay-at-home mom plus all the financial benefit of working full time, plus I get to live my dream.) Have fun all.
Had a long talk with Triston about still being in love with Evan. Trying. Sometimes I think if I could stop dreaming about him it would be easier. Sometimes I think the dreams keep me sane. The ones in which he professes his love are almost worse then the ones in which he tells me he's indifferent to me, I wake up sad that it isn't real. I said it when I met him and now I live to regret it: "There is a certain delicious torment to the desire for someone you can't have." But I hold to the idea that hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. I have hope, which makes for greater pain and the possibity of even greater joy. Hope for him, hope for someone at all to walk with down a road that has been so lonely. In facing my greatest fear, loneliness, I find that I truly can survive anything. I wanted a partner and I got that. Love will come too, or not. I can't force things. Suddenly believing in destiny lends a certain comfort.
In the mean time I totally head over heels for a short, fat, nearly bald little man. Oliver brings a new sense of joy to life. Each day I discover anew my love for him. Tyler got the short end of the stick being born first. Now I know what I have and I cherish it. I set aside a time each day just to hold Oliver, to tuck his little head against my chest and feel his weight. He's three months old and I swear to god he was born just yesterday. Tyler becomes more of a little boy everyday, with challenges to go along with that. We're battling a case of the gimme's and he is suddenly being forced to learn that the universe does not revolve around him; indeed that there is a universe outside him at all. But all of that is just part of being three-almost-four. He's a good little boy, his main problem is that he's high-strung. Hmm? Who do we know like that? He's happiest when you are letting him help, he really just wants to be loved and it's nice to know that all I have to do is love him for him to grow up a good boy. We're still having a hard time with the potty training, mostly he just can't seem to be bothered. This week I'm going to try a new tactic, giving him a choice. Each morning I'll ask if he wants a diaper or his underwear. Give him a measure of control. We'll see.
Something that amuses me. Everyone who knows me well at all knows I want to be an author. How amusing would it be if the first thing I publish is something I don't want to show people I know for fear of what they might think of me? Certainly my parents would have a hard time accepting the darker side of my imagination. Ah, the irony of realizing a dream and being unable to share it. (I'm working on a story to submit to a horror-sex magazine called Cthulhu Sex; not sure I want to show either of my families my name in a magazine whose tag line is "Blood, sex, and tentacles.")
I want a new tattoo! Evan got his finished (finally) this past Thursday and it makes me itch to get another. I want the Chinese character for phoenix on my left arm. I also have an idea for a large tattoo on my back involving two dragons, tattooing corset lacings down my sides, and possibly a dragon twined about my right forearm and a phoenix on my left forearm. I have determined that the proceeds from the first sale of my work will get inked into my flesh. Hell, if I manage to make a living writing I certainly won't have to worry about corporate dress codes, and everything will still be concealable. My poor mom's head would explode. Anybody know anyone who's really good at drawing dragons?
I think that's about it for the time being. Must to be getting to work on background notes for SLCLarp NWOD game character. Forsaken. I'm playing E-Rock's sister. Irraka Blood Talon. Much violence and unpleasantness, including drug addiction and rape, barely escaping death at her brother's hands during his first change, and various and sundry emotional issues. Why do my characters always have screwed up histories?
Until next week, when I shall describe my idea for a book about tattoos and update you on my progress toward becoming a self-supporting writer. (Did I tell you guys I decided there is no downside to this? Work from home means no babysitters, I get all the emotional benefits of being a stay-at-home mom plus all the financial benefit of working full time, plus I get to live my dream.) Have fun all.