As you can see its been a while since I posted. My last post was during a melt down. Don't look at me like that, you KNOW you've had one or two yourself. I've since started on some new meds. They didn't fix it all, but they give me the will and want to fix it all. I've really been evaluating what about myself I am not happy with and the one thing that always comes to mind first is my weight. Tonight I decided to really look at myself and see what I have and haven't going on so I can accept myself and what my current situation is. The truth is I don't FEEL like a fat person. Sure I have to buy the bigger clothes, I wear out faster than I should, I have a horrible back. I feel all that. But I've really been in denial about the actual physical fat. People tell me, "oh you aren't fat, you're tall so you carry it well." they are being nice. They can't help it. It doesn't matter how tall I am. You can't "carry" obese body fat "well". This evening before I got in the shower I looked at myself in mirror and studied my body. Don't worry, won't be getting too graphic here. I will say I had more asses than I thought I did. What occurred to me is my reaction to how I looked wasn't what I expected. I thought I'd get all self hateful or start crying. But my first thought was, well I guess I have some serious work to do. I think a while back I decided that I was just going to be a fat person and figured I'd better get okay with it. But that's bullshit. That's the kind if thing you say when you've given up. I'm only 33 years old. I have no one to currently worry about except myself unless you count Sherlock. I am an adult woman who should be able to handle taking care of one person. So here's the deal. I have to look at this like any addiction. One day at a time. I will succeed. It won't be a straight path but it will head in the right direction. I've lost about 6 lbs in the last two weeks. My current goal is to lose 3 more by Christmas. Totally doable. That will get me to 290. Then I will set a new goal. Little steps. I'm worth it!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
this too shall pass...
It's been a little while since I last posted. There a couple of reasons for that. For starters I've been really really busy with the Village Players. I some how found myself agreeing to being Production Manager for a summer show I had originally said I wouldn't be involved in because I needed the break. I just hate seeing something struggling. The last thing I want is for our theatre group to have a failure and after no one showed up for the first auditions I was quite frightened that that was exactly what it was going to become. We have only about 10 days left, so I will hopefully get my break soon.
I've also been busier at work. I was moved from one branch to another back in December and I have gotten swamped. There are still some days where I am caught up with my work, but I spend that time trying to figure out train some of the newer employees, how to make learning the new system easier since no one bothered to update our guides when they completely changed the program we use. I am not entirely happy in my job right now. That doesn't mean I'm planning my escape quite yet, but it does mean my days feel much much longer and tiring. Before I was moved from the previous branch, I was working with a really good friend, someone who helped bring brightness into myself and help me at my best. She challenged me, expected more of me than others because she knew I was capable of it. I really miss that. I'm not saying I don't work with lovely people. I enjoy having conversations with the ladies I work with now. I just don't feel that "growth" I had before. I also don't feel like my current supervisors have the same amount of confidence in me. At first I figured they just needed to get to know me and see what I was capable of, but now that time has passed, I'm not sure they are paying attention. Or maybe I've not been the same. I think I give it my all, but maybe I'm not.
For those of you who have known me for years it is probably starting to become evident to you the last and probably most vital reason I haven't blogged lately. I have entered quite a grand depression. I've had a history of this ever since I hit puberty. My poor parents, when I was a teenager, couldn't for the life of them figure out why I was so moody sometime. I was raised in a good family, I had everything I needed in things, a place to live comfortably, people to rely on. I know a part of it is a chemical thing, but it's also my surroundings. If I have enough stressing me out it comes and it comes big.
When I lived in Texas I dealt with my depression with food, smoking, playing video games, sleeping a lot during the day. When I left Texas to move to Arkansas I was twice the size I was when I graduated from highschool. After living in Arkansas for a while, I went to my doctor and ask to be put on medication. First she put me on Zoloft. Doctors are never quite sure what meds to start you on first for depression, they all effect different chemicals in your brain and they don't really have a good way of knowing which ones need to be messed with. Zoloft for me was like the devils pills. I very very quickly turned into this crazy person that would scream and cry for no reason and I even began abusing myself. The climax of that medication happened on a trip to San Antonio with my brother and his wife. We were going to help celebrate my grandmother's birthday. On the way there I was so out of it I spent about 20 minutes in a bathroom at a restaurant while my family waited out in the car. While in there slammed myself repeatedly into the walls till I hurt everywhere outside and could no longer feel on the inside. That might seem crazy, and it is, but it was the medication. Mess with the wrong chemicals in your brain and it can make you far far worse. When I got home from that trip I called my doctor and she told me to immediately stop taking the medication. Within a week I was back to normal again. She wanted to start me on something else in a month or so but it took me about 2 years to get the courage up to actually try something else. What if I hadn't been smart enough to realize there was something seriously wrong with me and that I needed to get off those meds? What if the next medication caused me to do the unspeakable. It took me a long time to be willing risk that. Finally when I was ready she put me on something else and it worked quite well. I had a lot more energy. I started taking better care of myself. I started the Nutrisystem and lost 80 lbs. I was jogging. I got involved in the Village Players because I was more comfortable with my body and felt like I wanted to start singing in front of people again. I stayed on that medication for a good amount of time until my doctor suggested it might be time i ween myself off. Things continued to go quite well after that. I started entering back into the dating world that I hadn't been much of a part of in a while. I enjoyed buying clothes I thought I looked nice in. I went out with friends more. Ever since I went off the meds, I have only had the occasional day a month where I might be a little down. Typically that was the day before my monthly cycle, so no shocker there. And even on those days it wouldn't be the whole day, just a few moment here or there. I don't know what's different about this time. At first I thought it was the same, just a day of gloomy and I'd be up and ready to go the next day. Next day came and I was still down. etc etc. Now its been about two months. There have been a couple of not so happy things that have happened in that time, but I'm not sure they are involved. Someone I am really close to has been going through I really tough time and I've been worrying about him a lot lately. I have another friend that has a child that is really sick and I've been thinking about them a lot. I've even tried doing little things to boost my mood like going to Joplin and spending a day with the pups, but driving through the destruction just destroyed any job I really got out of helping. I don't think a day has gone by in at least 2 weeks that I haven't just suddenly started crying. I for the most part keep it under wraps during the day when I'm around people. But it has to be showing by now. I'm hoping my blogging about it will help me figure out a way to move on. I also know keeping it to myself just hasn't helped any. I know there are people that care about me and how I am doing and would want to know what's going on. I know this will pass. I know there's an end to my state. I am not hopeless or anything like that. Just worn out. Really really tired. I feel like I could lay down stay in bed for weeks, not that that would be helpful of course. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow, I'll have a boost of energy and things will be better. I have considered going back to my doctor again, but a part of me would like to conquer this once and for all without the help of drugs. I hate relying on that.
I've also been busier at work. I was moved from one branch to another back in December and I have gotten swamped. There are still some days where I am caught up with my work, but I spend that time trying to figure out train some of the newer employees, how to make learning the new system easier since no one bothered to update our guides when they completely changed the program we use. I am not entirely happy in my job right now. That doesn't mean I'm planning my escape quite yet, but it does mean my days feel much much longer and tiring. Before I was moved from the previous branch, I was working with a really good friend, someone who helped bring brightness into myself and help me at my best. She challenged me, expected more of me than others because she knew I was capable of it. I really miss that. I'm not saying I don't work with lovely people. I enjoy having conversations with the ladies I work with now. I just don't feel that "growth" I had before. I also don't feel like my current supervisors have the same amount of confidence in me. At first I figured they just needed to get to know me and see what I was capable of, but now that time has passed, I'm not sure they are paying attention. Or maybe I've not been the same. I think I give it my all, but maybe I'm not.
For those of you who have known me for years it is probably starting to become evident to you the last and probably most vital reason I haven't blogged lately. I have entered quite a grand depression. I've had a history of this ever since I hit puberty. My poor parents, when I was a teenager, couldn't for the life of them figure out why I was so moody sometime. I was raised in a good family, I had everything I needed in things, a place to live comfortably, people to rely on. I know a part of it is a chemical thing, but it's also my surroundings. If I have enough stressing me out it comes and it comes big.
When I lived in Texas I dealt with my depression with food, smoking, playing video games, sleeping a lot during the day. When I left Texas to move to Arkansas I was twice the size I was when I graduated from highschool. After living in Arkansas for a while, I went to my doctor and ask to be put on medication. First she put me on Zoloft. Doctors are never quite sure what meds to start you on first for depression, they all effect different chemicals in your brain and they don't really have a good way of knowing which ones need to be messed with. Zoloft for me was like the devils pills. I very very quickly turned into this crazy person that would scream and cry for no reason and I even began abusing myself. The climax of that medication happened on a trip to San Antonio with my brother and his wife. We were going to help celebrate my grandmother's birthday. On the way there I was so out of it I spent about 20 minutes in a bathroom at a restaurant while my family waited out in the car. While in there slammed myself repeatedly into the walls till I hurt everywhere outside and could no longer feel on the inside. That might seem crazy, and it is, but it was the medication. Mess with the wrong chemicals in your brain and it can make you far far worse. When I got home from that trip I called my doctor and she told me to immediately stop taking the medication. Within a week I was back to normal again. She wanted to start me on something else in a month or so but it took me about 2 years to get the courage up to actually try something else. What if I hadn't been smart enough to realize there was something seriously wrong with me and that I needed to get off those meds? What if the next medication caused me to do the unspeakable. It took me a long time to be willing risk that. Finally when I was ready she put me on something else and it worked quite well. I had a lot more energy. I started taking better care of myself. I started the Nutrisystem and lost 80 lbs. I was jogging. I got involved in the Village Players because I was more comfortable with my body and felt like I wanted to start singing in front of people again. I stayed on that medication for a good amount of time until my doctor suggested it might be time i ween myself off. Things continued to go quite well after that. I started entering back into the dating world that I hadn't been much of a part of in a while. I enjoyed buying clothes I thought I looked nice in. I went out with friends more. Ever since I went off the meds, I have only had the occasional day a month where I might be a little down. Typically that was the day before my monthly cycle, so no shocker there. And even on those days it wouldn't be the whole day, just a few moment here or there. I don't know what's different about this time. At first I thought it was the same, just a day of gloomy and I'd be up and ready to go the next day. Next day came and I was still down. etc etc. Now its been about two months. There have been a couple of not so happy things that have happened in that time, but I'm not sure they are involved. Someone I am really close to has been going through I really tough time and I've been worrying about him a lot lately. I have another friend that has a child that is really sick and I've been thinking about them a lot. I've even tried doing little things to boost my mood like going to Joplin and spending a day with the pups, but driving through the destruction just destroyed any job I really got out of helping. I don't think a day has gone by in at least 2 weeks that I haven't just suddenly started crying. I for the most part keep it under wraps during the day when I'm around people. But it has to be showing by now. I'm hoping my blogging about it will help me figure out a way to move on. I also know keeping it to myself just hasn't helped any. I know there are people that care about me and how I am doing and would want to know what's going on. I know this will pass. I know there's an end to my state. I am not hopeless or anything like that. Just worn out. Really really tired. I feel like I could lay down stay in bed for weeks, not that that would be helpful of course. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow, I'll have a boost of energy and things will be better. I have considered going back to my doctor again, but a part of me would like to conquer this once and for all without the help of drugs. I hate relying on that.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
bet you'd just love to see me dancing to prince...
I am a huge music fan. I'm always telling people, I listening to everything.... but polka. Can't get with the polka, sorry. But I really do listening to the rest, country, pop, electronic, alternative, rap, showtunes, opera, classical, easy listening, folk, rock, dance, punk, ska, blue grass, acustic, big band, blues, jazz, foreign, rockabilly, disco, indie, reggae, funk.... and I really don't have a favorite. Sometimes it's all based on my mood. Music has a way of lifting you up when you are really down, and it has a way of calming you when you are stressed. It reminds of certain times, certain places, and certain people. I thought I'd share with you some of the songs that hold high meaning for me.
Eight Days a Week - When I was in highschool I often picked up a couple of friends on my way to school and being a really small town, the traffic is a bit predictable. During our senior year we listened to the same cd that I had mixed myself, you remember mixed cds, and the last song we heard every day we drove to school was the Beatles "Eight Days a Week". Whatever we were gabbing about, once that song came on, we stopped and sang along at the top of our lungs. Every time I hear that song I remember Shannon and Lezlie and driving in the car. We had so much fun when we were young! I we weren't bad singers, well Shannon and I weren't anyways, sorry Lezlie :)
On Eagle's Wings - I was raised in a Catholic church because my Mom was Catholic and her Mom was Catholic. I've waivered back and forth a bit with my religion, something I think most young people do. The Catholic Church though has always just been the one I'm most comfortable in. I know when to stand and sit and kneel and what the different elements of the mass are about, that helps. I also am familiar with the music that is typically sung in the Catholic church. But I think the biggest reason I am comfy in the Catholic church is because when I'm there, I feel like my Mom is there. She has always been guide spiritually since I was little. She taught me about charity, not judging people, being selfless. I know one of her favorite songs is "On Eagle's Wings". Now it's not the most cheerful song, but its beautiful and every time I hear I think of her.
My Girl - Okay, so I told you what reminds me of my Mom, so now I have to tell you what reminds me of Dad. When I was young dad listening to two things. Motown and Honky Tonk. Pretty much anything that fits in either category reminds me of Dad. I LOVES his Conway Twitty. The song that probably reminds me the most of him though is the Temptations "My Girl". I have a memory, possibly one of my earliest at this point, of being really really small. Possibly two or three. Holding my dads hands, in the middle of the living room, bouncing and round, dancing to my girl on the hi-fi. If I was ever to find the right guy and get married, it would be the song I'd want to dance with my Dad.
Bat Dance and Revolutionary Kind - Well of course I can't forget the last member of my immediate family, and certainly the one that knows me the best. My Brother and I were good friends even when we were young kids. We would fight like cats and dogs and as soon as Mom had enough and separated us, we'd be in our closets that shared a wall, try to communicate through the wall. I remember when the movie Batman came out and we became obsessed with Prince's song Bat Dance. In our garage with a tape player, Nathan owned the single, we'd dance to it. Nathan was quite the dancer, me not so much, but boy did we have a hilarious time. There are many songs that remind me of my brother because he's a bit of a musical expert. He's introduced so many bands to me that I probably otherwise wouldn't have heard of including what has been for the last 5 years my absolutely favorite band Gomez. What's that you say? I know, I know. The very first album he introduced me to of theirs was Liquid Skin and every time I hear "Revolutionary Kind" I think I have Nathan, its one of my favorites and the singer is his doppelganger. No really. See below.
Wig in a Box - Everyone probably has a mantra song. Something that peps them up and gives them confidence and focus. "Wig in a Box" is actually a song sung by a man who dresses as a woman and is celebrating his "womanhood". For me the song just pumps me. The phrase "I am woman, hear me roar" comes to mind. It's overall empowering. When I need some motivation I crank it up and shout along. If you haven't seen Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I highly recommended it.
Eight Days a Week - When I was in highschool I often picked up a couple of friends on my way to school and being a really small town, the traffic is a bit predictable. During our senior year we listened to the same cd that I had mixed myself, you remember mixed cds, and the last song we heard every day we drove to school was the Beatles "Eight Days a Week". Whatever we were gabbing about, once that song came on, we stopped and sang along at the top of our lungs. Every time I hear that song I remember Shannon and Lezlie and driving in the car. We had so much fun when we were young! I we weren't bad singers, well Shannon and I weren't anyways, sorry Lezlie :)
On Eagle's Wings - I was raised in a Catholic church because my Mom was Catholic and her Mom was Catholic. I've waivered back and forth a bit with my religion, something I think most young people do. The Catholic Church though has always just been the one I'm most comfortable in. I know when to stand and sit and kneel and what the different elements of the mass are about, that helps. I also am familiar with the music that is typically sung in the Catholic church. But I think the biggest reason I am comfy in the Catholic church is because when I'm there, I feel like my Mom is there. She has always been guide spiritually since I was little. She taught me about charity, not judging people, being selfless. I know one of her favorite songs is "On Eagle's Wings". Now it's not the most cheerful song, but its beautiful and every time I hear I think of her.
My Girl - Okay, so I told you what reminds me of my Mom, so now I have to tell you what reminds me of Dad. When I was young dad listening to two things. Motown and Honky Tonk. Pretty much anything that fits in either category reminds me of Dad. I LOVES his Conway Twitty. The song that probably reminds me the most of him though is the Temptations "My Girl". I have a memory, possibly one of my earliest at this point, of being really really small. Possibly two or three. Holding my dads hands, in the middle of the living room, bouncing and round, dancing to my girl on the hi-fi. If I was ever to find the right guy and get married, it would be the song I'd want to dance with my Dad.
Bat Dance and Revolutionary Kind - Well of course I can't forget the last member of my immediate family, and certainly the one that knows me the best. My Brother and I were good friends even when we were young kids. We would fight like cats and dogs and as soon as Mom had enough and separated us, we'd be in our closets that shared a wall, try to communicate through the wall. I remember when the movie Batman came out and we became obsessed with Prince's song Bat Dance. In our garage with a tape player, Nathan owned the single, we'd dance to it. Nathan was quite the dancer, me not so much, but boy did we have a hilarious time. There are many songs that remind me of my brother because he's a bit of a musical expert. He's introduced so many bands to me that I probably otherwise wouldn't have heard of including what has been for the last 5 years my absolutely favorite band Gomez. What's that you say? I know, I know. The very first album he introduced me to of theirs was Liquid Skin and every time I hear "Revolutionary Kind" I think I have Nathan, its one of my favorites and the singer is his doppelganger. No really. See below.
Wig in a Box - Everyone probably has a mantra song. Something that peps them up and gives them confidence and focus. "Wig in a Box" is actually a song sung by a man who dresses as a woman and is celebrating his "womanhood". For me the song just pumps me. The phrase "I am woman, hear me roar" comes to mind. It's overall empowering. When I need some motivation I crank it up and shout along. If you haven't seen Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I highly recommended it.
Oh? You were expecting a video of me dancing to Prince? Well, better luck next time! ;)
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
one of my personal escapes
I have enjoyed reading ever since I was little and my mom handed down to me her Nancy Drew books. I read a somewhat diversion selection of books, mostly fiction, but everything from fantasy, love, comedy, dark, suspenseful. I love it all. I wanted to share some of my favorite writing with everyone. Maybe you will see what I love about language and expression.
My absolutely favorite author is Stephen King. He's the master of description. I particularly like his short stories. There is something really different with short stories. Because you have such a lack of time, you spend less of it creating a back story and an ending and just get right to the meat of whatever you are telling. But my favorite Stephen King book isn't a short story. Misery is about a writer, Paul, who has a car accident and finds himself taken hostage by his "number one fan", Nurse Annie. In the beginning of the book, Paul has been in his car accident, and is having trouble breathing. Someone comes along to help him.
"Then there was a mouth clamped over his, a mouth which was unmistakably a woman's mouth in spite of its hard spitless lips, and the wind from this woman's mouth blew into his own mouth and down his throat, puffing his lungs, and when the lips were pulled back he smelled his warder for the first time, smelled her on the outhrush of the breath she had forced into him the way a man might force a part of himself into an unwilling woman, a dreadful mixed stench of vanilla cookies and chocolate ice cream and chicken gravy and peanut-butter fudge. He heard a voice screaming, 'Breathe, goddammit! Breathe, Paul!' The lips clamped down again. The breath drew down his throat again. Blew down it like the dank suck of wind which follows a fast subway train, pulling sheets of newspaper and candy-wrappers after it, and the lips were withdrawn, and he thought For Christ's sake don't let any of it out through your nose but he couldn't help it and oh that stink, that stink, that fucking STINK. 'Breathe, goddam you!' the unseen voice shrieked, and he thought I will, anything, please just don't do that anymore, don't infect me anymore, and he tried, but before he could really get started her lips were clamped over his again, lips as dry and dead as strips of salted leather, and she raped him full of her air again. When she took her lips away this time he did not let her breath out but pushed it and whooped in a gigantic breath of his own. Shoved it out. Waited for his unseen chest to go up again on its own, as it had been doing his whole life without any help from him. When it didn't, he gave another giant whooping gasp, and then he was breathing again on his own, and doing it as fast as he could to flush the smell and taste of her out of him. Normal air had never tasted so fine."
The dilemma of facing death vs facing that horrid breath is priceless. I can just imagine it. I really love King's harsh and honest description. Okay, back to short stories. I own a small collection of books called "The Best American Short Stories". It's an annual collection of some of the best short stories written that year. They are wonderful to read before going to bed at night. I can usually read one story in less than an hour. It's also a great chance to get to know artists I haven't read before. There's a short story by Peter Ho Davies called "The Ugliest House in the World". It is actually lots of mini stories that make up one short story, about a welsh doctor and his hometown.
"100 yards is a sign on the road just before you reach my father's village. The story of the ugliest house is that there was once a law in Wales that if you could build a house in a day and sleep a night in it, an acre of land around it was yours. The house had to be stone just to make things a little harder. That's why the ugliest house is so ugly. It's little more than eight feet high, with higgledy-piggledy walls of granite and slate. The walls were originally dry stone, which means they were built without cement. Stones were just balanced one upon the other, with smaller rocks wedged between them to stop them rocking.
Six years ago, Mr. Watkins, the farmer who owns the ugliest house, decided to open it to the public in the hope that he could make some money from tourist. The name came from his daughter, Kate. She called it that when she was a little girl.....Farmer Watkins hoped that the ugliest house would provide an income for Kate when she came back from Liverpool, pregnant at the age of sixteen. She learned the plaque off by heart and sat at the door with her child for a whole summer to charge admission, but the takings from that first season weren't even enough to pay for the roof. The farmer made one last attempt to have HOME OF THE UGLIEST HOUSE IN THE WORLD added to the name signs at either end of the village, but the council refused to even put it to a vote. Mr. Watkins stood up in the meeting and shouted 'Fascists! Communists! Tin-pot dictators!' But the leader of the council shouted him down: 'This meeting does not have time for frivolous notions and will eject any time-wasters from these proceedings. Sit down, Arwyn, you bloody idiot.'"
The entire story is a joy to read. I highly recommend checking it out. One of the earliest books I remember reading and just obsessing over was "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle. I believe it was my first true taste of sci-fiction.
"The trees were lashed into a violent frenzy. Meg screamed and clutched at Calvin, and Mrs. Which's authoritative voice called out "Qquiett chilldd!" Did a shadow fall across the moon or did the moon simply go out, extinguished as abruptly and completely as a candle? There was still the sound of leaves, a terrified, terrifying rushing. All light was gone. Darkness was complete. Suddenly the wind was gone, and all sound. Meg felt that Calvin was being torn from her. When she reached for him her fingers touched nothing. She screamed out, "Charles!" and whether it was to help him or for him to help her, she did not know. The word was flung back down her throat and she choked on it. She was completely alone. She had lost the protection of Calvin's hand. Charles was nowhere, either to save or to turn to. She was alone in a fragment of nothingness. No light, no sound, no feeling. Where was her body? She tried to move in her panic, but there was nothing to move. Just as light and sound had vanished, she was gone, too. The corporeal Meg simply was not. Then she felt her limbs again. Her legs and arms were tingling faintly, as though they had been asleep. She blinked her eyes rapidly, but though she herself was somehow back, nothing else was. It was not as simple as darkness, or absence of light. Darkness has a tangible quality; it can be moved through and felt; in darkness you can bark your shins; the world of things still exists around you. She was lost in a horrifying void."
After reading that, I was hooked. I loved reading about fictional worlds and unnatural events. To this day I think that is my favorite genre. The feel of the book actually reminded me a lot of the most recent triology of books I've read "The Hunter Games" series by Suzanne Collins. Both have a bit of a futuristic feel to them. Both feature a place that is void of feeling and life.
Last but certainly not least, another thing I've always enjoyed, is reading poetry. Poetry has never been very popular, which in some ways surprises me. Reading poetry isn't all that different from listening to music. Here is a snipet of one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson.
"During my education,
It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
Fell from an apple tree!
The earth upon an axis
Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
In honor of the sun!
It was the brave Columbus,
A sailing o'er the tide,
Who notified the nations
Of where I would reside!
Mortality is fatal --
Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
Insolvency, sublime!
Our Fathers being weary,
Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho' full many a morning,
Yet they are sleeping still, --
The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
A marching to the skies!"
My absolutely favorite author is Stephen King. He's the master of description. I particularly like his short stories. There is something really different with short stories. Because you have such a lack of time, you spend less of it creating a back story and an ending and just get right to the meat of whatever you are telling. But my favorite Stephen King book isn't a short story. Misery is about a writer, Paul, who has a car accident and finds himself taken hostage by his "number one fan", Nurse Annie. In the beginning of the book, Paul has been in his car accident, and is having trouble breathing. Someone comes along to help him.
"Then there was a mouth clamped over his, a mouth which was unmistakably a woman's mouth in spite of its hard spitless lips, and the wind from this woman's mouth blew into his own mouth and down his throat, puffing his lungs, and when the lips were pulled back he smelled his warder for the first time, smelled her on the outhrush of the breath she had forced into him the way a man might force a part of himself into an unwilling woman, a dreadful mixed stench of vanilla cookies and chocolate ice cream and chicken gravy and peanut-butter fudge. He heard a voice screaming, 'Breathe, goddammit! Breathe, Paul!' The lips clamped down again. The breath drew down his throat again. Blew down it like the dank suck of wind which follows a fast subway train, pulling sheets of newspaper and candy-wrappers after it, and the lips were withdrawn, and he thought For Christ's sake don't let any of it out through your nose but he couldn't help it and oh that stink, that stink, that fucking STINK. 'Breathe, goddam you!' the unseen voice shrieked, and he thought I will, anything, please just don't do that anymore, don't infect me anymore, and he tried, but before he could really get started her lips were clamped over his again, lips as dry and dead as strips of salted leather, and she raped him full of her air again. When she took her lips away this time he did not let her breath out but pushed it and whooped in a gigantic breath of his own. Shoved it out. Waited for his unseen chest to go up again on its own, as it had been doing his whole life without any help from him. When it didn't, he gave another giant whooping gasp, and then he was breathing again on his own, and doing it as fast as he could to flush the smell and taste of her out of him. Normal air had never tasted so fine."
The dilemma of facing death vs facing that horrid breath is priceless. I can just imagine it. I really love King's harsh and honest description. Okay, back to short stories. I own a small collection of books called "The Best American Short Stories". It's an annual collection of some of the best short stories written that year. They are wonderful to read before going to bed at night. I can usually read one story in less than an hour. It's also a great chance to get to know artists I haven't read before. There's a short story by Peter Ho Davies called "The Ugliest House in the World". It is actually lots of mini stories that make up one short story, about a welsh doctor and his hometown.
"100 yards is a sign on the road just before you reach my father's village. The story of the ugliest house is that there was once a law in Wales that if you could build a house in a day and sleep a night in it, an acre of land around it was yours. The house had to be stone just to make things a little harder. That's why the ugliest house is so ugly. It's little more than eight feet high, with higgledy-piggledy walls of granite and slate. The walls were originally dry stone, which means they were built without cement. Stones were just balanced one upon the other, with smaller rocks wedged between them to stop them rocking.
Six years ago, Mr. Watkins, the farmer who owns the ugliest house, decided to open it to the public in the hope that he could make some money from tourist. The name came from his daughter, Kate. She called it that when she was a little girl.....Farmer Watkins hoped that the ugliest house would provide an income for Kate when she came back from Liverpool, pregnant at the age of sixteen. She learned the plaque off by heart and sat at the door with her child for a whole summer to charge admission, but the takings from that first season weren't even enough to pay for the roof. The farmer made one last attempt to have HOME OF THE UGLIEST HOUSE IN THE WORLD added to the name signs at either end of the village, but the council refused to even put it to a vote. Mr. Watkins stood up in the meeting and shouted 'Fascists! Communists! Tin-pot dictators!' But the leader of the council shouted him down: 'This meeting does not have time for frivolous notions and will eject any time-wasters from these proceedings. Sit down, Arwyn, you bloody idiot.'"
The entire story is a joy to read. I highly recommend checking it out. One of the earliest books I remember reading and just obsessing over was "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle. I believe it was my first true taste of sci-fiction.
"The trees were lashed into a violent frenzy. Meg screamed and clutched at Calvin, and Mrs. Which's authoritative voice called out "Qquiett chilldd!" Did a shadow fall across the moon or did the moon simply go out, extinguished as abruptly and completely as a candle? There was still the sound of leaves, a terrified, terrifying rushing. All light was gone. Darkness was complete. Suddenly the wind was gone, and all sound. Meg felt that Calvin was being torn from her. When she reached for him her fingers touched nothing. She screamed out, "Charles!" and whether it was to help him or for him to help her, she did not know. The word was flung back down her throat and she choked on it. She was completely alone. She had lost the protection of Calvin's hand. Charles was nowhere, either to save or to turn to. She was alone in a fragment of nothingness. No light, no sound, no feeling. Where was her body? She tried to move in her panic, but there was nothing to move. Just as light and sound had vanished, she was gone, too. The corporeal Meg simply was not. Then she felt her limbs again. Her legs and arms were tingling faintly, as though they had been asleep. She blinked her eyes rapidly, but though she herself was somehow back, nothing else was. It was not as simple as darkness, or absence of light. Darkness has a tangible quality; it can be moved through and felt; in darkness you can bark your shins; the world of things still exists around you. She was lost in a horrifying void."
After reading that, I was hooked. I loved reading about fictional worlds and unnatural events. To this day I think that is my favorite genre. The feel of the book actually reminded me a lot of the most recent triology of books I've read "The Hunter Games" series by Suzanne Collins. Both have a bit of a futuristic feel to them. Both feature a place that is void of feeling and life.
Last but certainly not least, another thing I've always enjoyed, is reading poetry. Poetry has never been very popular, which in some ways surprises me. Reading poetry isn't all that different from listening to music. Here is a snipet of one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson.
"During my education,
It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
Fell from an apple tree!
The earth upon an axis
Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
In honor of the sun!
It was the brave Columbus,
A sailing o'er the tide,
Who notified the nations
Of where I would reside!
Mortality is fatal --
Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
Insolvency, sublime!
Our Fathers being weary,
Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho' full many a morning,
Yet they are sleeping still, --
The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
A marching to the skies!"
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
comedy and tragedy? or both?
Lately I have been really bothered about something. I've been really disappointed in just people in general. Not necessarily specific people, but just the Nation as a whole. What they find funny. What they find exceptable. For example. Why do they not hold celebrities up to the same standards they hold everyone else. If I had a friend and I found out he or she beat their significant other to the point that they were unrecognizable, unless I felt I could in some way help this person in some way, I'd probably consider not being their friend any more. If they were strung out on cocaine, and not making any sense, and possibly acting dangerously, I would stay away from them. So, if a singer, say, beats the crap out of his girlfriend, why would I still buy his cd? If an actor, who has been said to be repeatedly abusive toward women, goes nuts and says he's "winning" because he can "handle his cocaine socially", why would I continue to watch his tv show? If a drug addict actress feels she's above the law, drives without a license while under the influence, steals from people and doesn't seem to even give a shit that she's been caught, why would I go see her movie? I realize that they are a lot of celebrities out there that have done some bad things in their past and I am probably not aware of it. I couldn't possibly check out every single movie I see and make sure know one has done anything wrong. I know its unrealistic to close myself off from all forms of entertainment that might tainted, because lets face it, that's just about everything these days. However, it sometimes seems people don't even CARE if bad things are happening, they just want to be entertained and be fans of these people.
Another thing that has recently bothered me. What people find funny. Someone forwarded me an email this week that was a bunch of "funny" pictures of people at Walmart. Basically making fun of people and what they wear and how they look. Most of the pictures were of fat people. Sure sometimes they were wearing something that might be considered by most as too small for them. But some of them were just comfy clothes. Why is it funny to laugh at someone because they have trouble controlling their weight? Why is it funny to make fun of someone because they have bad teeth or are just generally unattractive. I'd hate to think that someone forwarded that email to one of the people in it. I would be horrified to find my picture among them. And its not entirely impossible. I've gone to Walmart in the middle of the night in my pjs. Walmart's always been that place where people just wear what they are wearing. They are comfy. They could be in the middle of doing their laundry and wearing something they'd otherwise avoid, and Walmart's the one place they'd go and not care. Also, today there was an article about Richard Simmons commenting on George Lopez making fat jokes about Kirstie Alley. Personally I think Kirstie Alley is a grown woman and has heard plenty in her life about her weight and has probably figured out people are just idiots and to not let it bother her. She probably doesn't need Richard Simmons backing her up. But I read some of the comments that were made about the article by cnn.com readers. Here is a sampling:
" Kirstie Alley is not fat, but she shows up on my GPS as a navigation hazard."
"If a fat joke hurts your feelings, lose weight. If you cannot lose weight."
"Being fat is a choice, being ugly is not. it's not nice to laugh at ugly people, but by all means do make fun of fat people, cause that was their choice"
I understand, a lot of people ARE fat because they don't give a care, but while I'm not morbidly obese, I'm overweight and can tell you, its not because I don't care. It has a lot to do with the fact that I easily get depressed, I easily get unmotivated, and I also have crappy genes (no offense mom and dad, love you, but you're families are covered in diabetics) There are just a lot of insensitive people out there.
Okay, another article I read was about Lea Michele from Glee walking away after being hit by a car. I'm guessing a minor hit, not really big news. However, in the comments:
"She's Jewish. You think she is going to have a hard time finding a good lawyer? "
"wish she wouldve taken one for the earth and gotten injured to end Glee. "
Seriously people? Have sucken so low as to have to randomly point out a person's religion any time there's an article about her? How is her religion relevant??? And wishing someone dead. That's swell. When a driver cuts me off on the road and pisses me off, I don't even have the heart to wish that they have an accident, I just wish a bird poops on their windshield. How would this person feel if she died after they made the comment, would they also find that funny?
I know I'm probably being too sensitive. People have always had bad taste in humor. I know I've found things that are distasteful funny before. Heck, I passed on a joke about Charlie Sheen just a couple of weeks ago. "How many drugs did Charlie Sheen take. Enough to kill two and half men." I still find it clever, but there may be someone out there that says that's insensitive to people with drug problems. Perhaps its seeing so much of it in such a short period of time that I've noticed the tackiness of people. I was a fan of George Carlin before he died and he did nothing but point out politically incorrect, distasteful humor. I probably just need to get over myself, its just been on my radar and in my mind a lot lately.
Another thing that has recently bothered me. What people find funny. Someone forwarded me an email this week that was a bunch of "funny" pictures of people at Walmart. Basically making fun of people and what they wear and how they look. Most of the pictures were of fat people. Sure sometimes they were wearing something that might be considered by most as too small for them. But some of them were just comfy clothes. Why is it funny to laugh at someone because they have trouble controlling their weight? Why is it funny to make fun of someone because they have bad teeth or are just generally unattractive. I'd hate to think that someone forwarded that email to one of the people in it. I would be horrified to find my picture among them. And its not entirely impossible. I've gone to Walmart in the middle of the night in my pjs. Walmart's always been that place where people just wear what they are wearing. They are comfy. They could be in the middle of doing their laundry and wearing something they'd otherwise avoid, and Walmart's the one place they'd go and not care. Also, today there was an article about Richard Simmons commenting on George Lopez making fat jokes about Kirstie Alley. Personally I think Kirstie Alley is a grown woman and has heard plenty in her life about her weight and has probably figured out people are just idiots and to not let it bother her. She probably doesn't need Richard Simmons backing her up. But I read some of the comments that were made about the article by cnn.com readers. Here is a sampling:
" Kirstie Alley is not fat, but she shows up on my GPS as a navigation hazard."
"If a fat joke hurts your feelings, lose weight. If you cannot lose weight."
"Being fat is a choice, being ugly is not. it's not nice to laugh at ugly people, but by all means do make fun of fat people, cause that was their choice"
I understand, a lot of people ARE fat because they don't give a care, but while I'm not morbidly obese, I'm overweight and can tell you, its not because I don't care. It has a lot to do with the fact that I easily get depressed, I easily get unmotivated, and I also have crappy genes (no offense mom and dad, love you, but you're families are covered in diabetics) There are just a lot of insensitive people out there.
Okay, another article I read was about Lea Michele from Glee walking away after being hit by a car. I'm guessing a minor hit, not really big news. However, in the comments:
"She's Jewish. You think she is going to have a hard time finding a good lawyer? "
"wish she wouldve taken one for the earth and gotten injured to end Glee. "
Seriously people? Have sucken so low as to have to randomly point out a person's religion any time there's an article about her? How is her religion relevant??? And wishing someone dead. That's swell. When a driver cuts me off on the road and pisses me off, I don't even have the heart to wish that they have an accident, I just wish a bird poops on their windshield. How would this person feel if she died after they made the comment, would they also find that funny?
I know I'm probably being too sensitive. People have always had bad taste in humor. I know I've found things that are distasteful funny before. Heck, I passed on a joke about Charlie Sheen just a couple of weeks ago. "How many drugs did Charlie Sheen take. Enough to kill two and half men." I still find it clever, but there may be someone out there that says that's insensitive to people with drug problems. Perhaps its seeing so much of it in such a short period of time that I've noticed the tackiness of people. I was a fan of George Carlin before he died and he did nothing but point out politically incorrect, distasteful humor. I probably just need to get over myself, its just been on my radar and in my mind a lot lately.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
what if there WAS an Adjustment Bureau.
This afternoon I went to see "The Adjustment Bureau". It was probably one of the most enjoyable movies I've seen in quite a while and I just went through the 2010 Oscar season. It was really well written. Very interesting concept. The special effects were simple, but effective. The acting was great. The story is a man, on the road to becoming a very successful politcian, due to chance, meets a girl that will make him veer off his path. In comes "The Adjustment Bureau", a group of men who try to make changes to this man's world to get him back on track. Big snag, he accidentally walks in on them doing their thing and discovers what he thought was his own freewill isn't at all free. I won't go any further in the plot because this movie is so worth watching, I don't want to ruin it. However, it does pose some interesting questions about freewill and destiny. The one that stuck out to me the most. If you could see what the consequences to your actions were before you chose, would you make a different choice, specifically when choosing your mate.
Lets say you met your significant other. They are everything you suddenly want. They are companion, lover, and comfort. Then someone told you, okay, you have a choice. You can spend the rest of your life with this person, be perfectly content in the life you create together, and have the security of a wonderful partner. OR, you can forget you ever met this person and be successful at your biggest dreams. Which you prefer? Contentment with someone, or an extraordinary existence alone. If you knew your mate would hold you back from your dreams, or you would hold your mate back from theirs, would you leave them. It's a tough question. Ideallly your "perfect mate" would help you achieve your dreams, and better you. But that's not necessarily realistic. Sometimes, finding the "right person" makes you happy with what you have and you don't push as hard to achieve greatness. I know lots of people that went to school thinking they would be this or that, and ended up meeting someone they love and became a smaller version of what they pictured. Some of them are perfectly happy with their choice, some of them aren't. Of course, they may not of reached that original goal anyways. In fact, they might not have been AS successful without meeting their spouse. Something we in reality would never really know. I'm thankful we do not know the consequences to our actions before we make them. I'm grateful I can just live my life and see what happens. If such a "Adjustment Bureau" really exists, I think I'm perfectly happy being unaware of the fact.
I've made several big decisions in my life that completely altered my future. What if I had taken the scholarship to Rolla and graduated as an engineer? What if I hadn't left Oklahoma when I did and stayed with the guy I was seeing? What if I hadn't gone to work at Blockbuster in Texas, but instead taken the job at the University Bookstore? What if I had made different friends? What if I hadn't decided to move to Arkansas to be closer to my brother again?
All I know is if I hadn't done those things, I wouldn't have just been on stage singing in front of a bunch of friends to 1950s music. I wouldn't have met when of my best friend's and mentor Maureen who has helped me discover who I am and helped me gain back some of the self esteem I lost when I was young. I probably wouldn't see my brother, who is really my best friend, as much as I do. I wouldn't have gotten to know my sister-in-law Kristi as well as I do and found a sister in her. I might not be as close to my parents as I am today. I might not be the confident, independent, opinionated woman I am today. And hopefully the path I've taken thus far will someday introduce me to the man I will spend the rest of my life with.
If you have a free afternoon, consider seeing The Adjustment Bureau. It is well worth it.
The Adjustment Bureau on imdb.
Lets say you met your significant other. They are everything you suddenly want. They are companion, lover, and comfort. Then someone told you, okay, you have a choice. You can spend the rest of your life with this person, be perfectly content in the life you create together, and have the security of a wonderful partner. OR, you can forget you ever met this person and be successful at your biggest dreams. Which you prefer? Contentment with someone, or an extraordinary existence alone. If you knew your mate would hold you back from your dreams, or you would hold your mate back from theirs, would you leave them. It's a tough question. Ideallly your "perfect mate" would help you achieve your dreams, and better you. But that's not necessarily realistic. Sometimes, finding the "right person" makes you happy with what you have and you don't push as hard to achieve greatness. I know lots of people that went to school thinking they would be this or that, and ended up meeting someone they love and became a smaller version of what they pictured. Some of them are perfectly happy with their choice, some of them aren't. Of course, they may not of reached that original goal anyways. In fact, they might not have been AS successful without meeting their spouse. Something we in reality would never really know. I'm thankful we do not know the consequences to our actions before we make them. I'm grateful I can just live my life and see what happens. If such a "Adjustment Bureau" really exists, I think I'm perfectly happy being unaware of the fact.
I've made several big decisions in my life that completely altered my future. What if I had taken the scholarship to Rolla and graduated as an engineer? What if I hadn't left Oklahoma when I did and stayed with the guy I was seeing? What if I hadn't gone to work at Blockbuster in Texas, but instead taken the job at the University Bookstore? What if I had made different friends? What if I hadn't decided to move to Arkansas to be closer to my brother again?
All I know is if I hadn't done those things, I wouldn't have just been on stage singing in front of a bunch of friends to 1950s music. I wouldn't have met when of my best friend's and mentor Maureen who has helped me discover who I am and helped me gain back some of the self esteem I lost when I was young. I probably wouldn't see my brother, who is really my best friend, as much as I do. I wouldn't have gotten to know my sister-in-law Kristi as well as I do and found a sister in her. I might not be as close to my parents as I am today. I might not be the confident, independent, opinionated woman I am today. And hopefully the path I've taken thus far will someday introduce me to the man I will spend the rest of my life with.
If you have a free afternoon, consider seeing The Adjustment Bureau. It is well worth it.
The Adjustment Bureau on imdb.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
the sound of music. now appearing on Wednesday nights.
After finishing up The Taffetas I've got the Musical Bug, so I've decided to start a new tradition for a while. Wednesday night will from here, until further notice, be Musical night. I have "Singing in the Rain" on its way via netflix. I actually have a goal in mind. I'm looking for a musical that my theatre group can put on in the next couple of years. If you have any suggestions, something you'd like to see, something you've always loved please comment. If anyone is every bored on Wednesday night and likes musicals they are more than welcome to come over to join me.
My favortie musical of all time is probably Oklahoma. Being from the state definitely doesn't hurt. I was exposed to this play/movie from a pretty early age. But I also just love Rodges and Hammerstein. They write so beautifully together. I am also a really big fan of Meet Me in St. Louis. It's become a habit of mine to watch it before Christmas every year. I like the idea of falling in love with a guy while riding a tram, just seeing him. Not particulary realistic, but awfully fun. When I was a little girl, any time I was at home sick or stuck inside because it was nasty out I watched two movies, over and over again. The first was Parent Trap, a disney movie (and of course I am talking about Haley Mills, not the copycat with Lindsey Lohan) and Annie. I wanted to be Annie when I was a kid. I thought she was just the greatest thing every. Of course now that I'm older, I'm probably closer to Mrs. Hannigan.
My favortie musical of all time is probably Oklahoma. Being from the state definitely doesn't hurt. I was exposed to this play/movie from a pretty early age. But I also just love Rodges and Hammerstein. They write so beautifully together. I am also a really big fan of Meet Me in St. Louis. It's become a habit of mine to watch it before Christmas every year. I like the idea of falling in love with a guy while riding a tram, just seeing him. Not particulary realistic, but awfully fun. When I was a little girl, any time I was at home sick or stuck inside because it was nasty out I watched two movies, over and over again. The first was Parent Trap, a disney movie (and of course I am talking about Haley Mills, not the copycat with Lindsey Lohan) and Annie. I wanted to be Annie when I was a kid. I thought she was just the greatest thing every. Of course now that I'm older, I'm probably closer to Mrs. Hannigan.
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