Teddy Radiator

I have enjoyed reconnecting with Live Journal a bit more this year. Even though I only posted on the average of twice a month, it was still a lot more than 2018, which was just such a difficult year for me and TheHubs™.
( A LOT of wittering... )

TheHubs(R) discovered this lovely bit of writing by Kate Bartolotta and read it aloud to me. Aside from the fact that I'll let him read me pretty much anything because I love the sound of his voice, I found this funny, moving and above all true to the max:

The covers of most men’s and women’s magazines have similar headlines: get great abs and have amazing sex.

From the looks of it, these two issues have been recycled over and over (with some other stereotypically gender relevant articles thrown in) on every Men’s Health, Maxim, Cosmo and Glamour cover since the dawn of time. In fact, I’d bet that if we could get a better translation of cave drawings, they would read something like “Grok get flat belly; make girl Grok moan with joy.”

And we keep buying them. We keep buying this lie that these things will make us happy. I’ve had washboard abs (past-tense) and I’ve had some pretty phenomenal sex. Neither one made me a better person; neither one completed me or made my life more fulfilling.

We chase this idea of “I will be happy when…”

I will be happy when I have a new car. I will be happy when I get married. I will be happy when I get a better job. I will be happy when I lose five pounds. What if instead we choose to be happy—right now?

If you can read this, your life is pretty awesome.

Setting aside our first world problems and pettiness, if you are online reading this, you have both electricity and wifi or access to them. Odds are you are in a shelter of some sort, or on a smart phone (and then kudos to you for reading this on the go). Life might bump and bruise us, it may not always go the way we plan and I know I get frustrated with mine, but here’s the thing
You are alive.

Because you are alive, everything is possible.

( So About Those Eight Tips.... )

Okay, I guess it's official. I'm weird. It's taken a week before the PCD (post con depression) hit me. I was too busy working my fat backside off last week upon my return to notice. Now that I have a little breathing room, I'm having all sorts of strange dreams about con - which involve my father, grandfather, and one of my uncles. All who have passed. They came to see me on Sunday at Con, and I was frantically trying to get to my talk at 11:30, but had to find my notes. WTF, people?

I dreamed about Con all night.

Well, it was a very important experience, and one that was very emotional in many ways for me. I guess everyone feels that way when you are saturated with such intensity for almost a week. The best thing is the friendships I made and the ones I increased, and the insights I gained about others and myself.

To be honest, though, I really need to get cracking on with things, so please, brain, get it out of your system and let me just have the normal strange dreams, TYVM.

Allergies have been reported in the 'Holy Crap, It's Bad' category this year, and I believe it. I've not had a bad bout with allergies in more years that I care to remember, but I'm really struggling. Wheezing, head full of porridge, gummy eyes, the Full Yuck. And allergy medicine, while very effective, knocks me unconscious. The non-drowsy stuff makes my heart race sickeningly, so I just have to deal with it. I either suffer, or sleep.Boo.

The good news is I ran my very dark fic idea by stgulik and not only did she not run screaming from it, but actually said, "It's a solid story line." She also said it was too multi-layered for the prompfest prompt, so I need to save it. This is a good thing; I don't think I could finish it before the end of the month, and I do so want to write it. There are several things I have languishing in my 'Editing in Progress' file that I need to finish, and hopefully now with a little less traumatic work schedule I can to this. I have come to realise that work was seriously burning me out, and I'm still a little bit in recovery mode. The big problem was that nothing looked right anymore. I have sat on a chapter of HM for almost a month because I couldn't tell if it worked or not. It will be good to revisit and see if I have any more clarity of vision over it.

Hugs to everyone who needs them. I know many of my friends are going through a tough time right now; my thoughts are with you, and I hope you find some peace and comfort in everyday tranquility.

I don't really have one blessed thing to complain about, but I'm in a very strange mood. I feel tired from work but it wasn't a ball-breaker like other days. I feel a little down, and discouraged, and I think I know why. I think it all boils down to just the sheer amount of time I've been writing in a vacuum with my head down, toiling over the novel. Chapter 17 is now in the vault and that makes me happy - I am damn proud of the placement of each and every word in those first 17 chapters.

But I do miss creating from scratch. I got the prompt I asked for at sshg_promptfest and I'm already about 500 words in. I'm working on part 3 of the slave and it's already 1500 words in. That's my output for today. 2000 words so far. I don't think that's too bad, I guess.

So really, I don't have anything to complain about in that department, either. Con costume is on hold until Thursday, when hopefully my sewing machine feet will arrive. You know you don't sew very often when it takes you four years of using it to realise your hand-me-down machine has nothing resembling a zigzag foot, and you need to do stuff. I'm off work tomorrow, and hope to get something like a bustle started. I'm looking at a lovely gown to wear to Con, and I'm making gifts for my roomies, and my talk is percolating. That's what April is for.

So really, what do I have to complain about? That old feeling again; the one that ambushes me at times. The one that says I'm not good enough, that I don't have what it takes to do what I want to do. Those old Insecurity Blues, telling me that I shouldn't bother.

I've got pretty good at fighting them off; I'm much better now than I was as little as two years ago. I can and will climb on top of them, but man, they are tenacious and insidious and know all my vulnerable, soft spots. And they hit even when I'm studying something I've done and I'm proud of it and that's when they are their most persuasive. That's when I have to starve them; if I feed them, then they will devour me.

But you, my friends, help. Thank you. Thank you for helping more than you know. Your words, your care, your humour, your faith; all these things remind me I do have the strength to starve the Insecurity Blues, until they weakly crawl back into their hiding places.

I will post pics of the costume next week. It should be pretty much done by then. Until then, happy writing, all my fellow SSHG prompters, and I wish joy and comfort to all my friends and hugs to all who need them.