A few thoughts on my birthday
So, since it's obviously been, well, years since I've written anything, I thought I'd start small - just a toe in.

I've been sitting out on my lovely little deck - the best feature of my apartment - surrounded by all my plants, enjoying my birthday. The smell of the basil, the bright pink and white and yellow of the flowers. For the first time in weeks it's a day where it's bearable to be outside with the sun shining. After weeks of heat indexes in the 100s, a day in the eighties is beautiful.

While any other day I'd be content as hell to be lazy, today, of all days, I got a bug to do some cleaning. Stripped the curtains, took down and washed some of the blinds. I guess I spend so much time being lazy that, on the day when I'm entitled, it wouldn't feel special enough.

As I was sitting out here, enjoying the sun and the light breeze that's been blowing all day, I thought suddenly of my mother, who, for obvious reasons, does not often enter my thoughts.

To greatly reduce a long story, she left when I was five, stopped calling when I was seven and stopped writing when I was twelve. We spoke...two? three? times when I was in college, but that's all. It's been twenty-three years since I've seen her. I couldn't tell you what her voice sounds like. The only reason I could tell you want she smells like (or did smell like, in any case) is because she always wore Oil of Olay. The smell of it throws me back to this day - like crayons, but, obviously, with less pleasant associations.

I just wondered, on today of all days, if perhaps she was thinking of me. If she even remembers that this is my birthday. After that long, it would be understandable if she didn't - if it was just a date like any other, now. Twenty-eight years is a long time. It's certainly seems to have been long enough to erase me.

I do want to say, though, that I don't want this woman in my life. She's crazy - she is complete bugfuck nuts. When she called me for the first time in 10? 11? years, when I was in college, she just wanted to tell me all about her group of friends and her married boyfriend, but how his wife was dying and they'd be together soon. Nothing - not ONE WORD - about the fact that she hadn't bothered to contact me for years. Like it had never happened. Like it was something you could just ignore, and wouldn't it be nice for us to be friends now?

Seriously. What the fuck.

I guess as I sit here, waiting for my incredible Dad - who's on his way to take me out for my birthday, who thinks about me EVERY SINGLE DAY, who knows how incredibly strange and messed-up I am and will never love me one bit less for it - I'm thinking less about <i>my</i> Mom and more just about <i>a</i> mom. A real one, who could love me the way that my Dad does.

I was so lucky to spend most of my years growing up without that woman as my mother, just like I was so lucky to grow up with Dad - no matter how frustrating he can be sometimes. And sometimes I just wish things had been different - that she wasn't crazy and selfish. That there was no question of whether or not she even remembered which day I was born. That she loved me. That's all. My silly little birthday wish.

And now, enough of this shit. I'm going to have a good day.

Current Mood: sad

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I'm going to miss you so much.
I just spent the past few days re-reading all of the old SC Round Robins. God, it's been like opening the floodgates. I can hardly believe I was lucky enough that such great writers and (more often than not) great people just let me in there with them. Unbelievable.

Kelly was always the best at those. She could always keep track of what everyone else was doing, never forgot to include someone in a scene that should be there and always kept the voices authentic. I mean, by the time I got halfway through Court of Miracles yesterday, I didn't even need to read the signature at the bottom. She was just that unique.

I just got to work ten minutes ago. My mail had a sweet message from an old friend offering to talk "if I needed to". It was like the bottom fell out of my stomach.

I can't believe that it took her. I can't believe it took her so fucking fast.

I just keep sitting here and crying. I know I'll stop eventually, but in a lot of ways I wish that I wouldn't. Because I know, I know that this hasn't really hit me yet. I know it probably won't until I'm doing something totally stupid and normal. And then......I don't know what. I wish I knew of a way to show how much this hurts. I wish there was something that you could do to yourself to just open up and show how much of you goes away when something like this happens.

It shouldn't have been Kelly.

I feel so small and so stupid. Like all I can do is sit here and think "It's not fair, it's not fair". Of course, it isn't. But it's such a childish thing to say. I know that already. I know it's not fair. I knew that before this all started.

It just feels like someone changed the rules. I just wish that this was something that we could write our way out of. If anyone could, it would be this group.

Just keep sitting here and thinking fucking cliches. "She had so much left to do." "I should have been a better friend." It all just keeps circling back to "It's not fair".

I want to be so eloquent for her. Because that's the way she's always been. It's what she deserves.

Maybe later I'll be able to......think. Or.....say the things that deserve to be said. Right now, I just....don't have anything good enough to say.

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Stolen from Nute
Heh. Figures.

You scored as Verbal/Linguistic. You have highly developed auditory skills, enjoy reading and writing and telling stories, and are good at getting your point across. You learn best by saying and hearing words. People like you include poets, authors, speakers, attorneys, politicians, lecturers and teachers. </td> Verbal/Linguistic 82% Intrapersonal 75% Musical/Rhythmic 71% Interpersonal 54% Logical/Mathematical 43% Visual/Spatial 39% Bodily/Kinesthetic 7% The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences created with QuizFarm.com

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Marscon
So, finally going somewhere this weekend and seeing.....you kjnow. People. In some sort of a social situation. Gah.

I haven't really been much of anywhere since March...of last year, that is. This is my first con, ex will be there, he'll have already talked to all of the people I want to see there, who were his friends first. I'm not sure what he's told them - if he's lied, temporized, stonewalled or told the truth. I'm worried.

But....I am cautiously looking forward to it. I did buy myself some cute clothes, so, you know. That's good. I'm trying to de-emphasize my bigness and re-emphasize my boobness.

And, you know, after (dear god) nearly a year, I feel like I might actually be beginning to even want to have physical intimacy again. Not that, you know, my personal feelings are what I actually even need to worry about at this point. It's, you know, getting to the point where someone else's personal feelings on that subject would ever come into play again.

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Graduation
That's right. My little puppy graduates from obediance school on Thursday.

( The entire experience.....Collapse )

Current Mood: pleased

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F@ck.
Look, I know they're both rich, stuck up, disconnected, soulless money whores.

But shit. I was really hoping he would lose.

The logic of staying in this country seems to be less and less appearent.

Don't get me wrong - not a Republican, not a Democrat. You know why? Because both want to fuck around in my life.

Democrats want to rearange my (and everyone else's) money, as they think it should have originally been distributed. That is not okay with me.

Republicans will (mostly - this administration seems to be an exception) leave your money alone and, in return, expect to be able to tell you how you are to live and believe.

They're both wrong, but this year, my civil liberties were more important than my pocketbook.

Current Mood: depressed

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It gets sort of rediculous when I become the most competent person at my job. I mean, honestly.

I can live with not being promoted to supervisor, but when I am then training all of the new people and telling her what is required for her to do that job correctly, you would think someone would realize they made a mistake.

*subtle glare at boss*

Current Mood: discontent

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Tappy, I never knew you cared.........
Meme joiner, I am.

Celendra's LJ stalker is dawnkiller!

dawnkiller is stalking you because they heard you are awesome in bed, and they want to find out. They are also prank calling you regularly!

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Not _just_ bitching, I promise!
So, after having the worst month of my life, I'm just waiting to be hit by a bus.

Dad has cancer again, he had some surgery which they sent us home totally unprepared from, his cathater (something neither of us knew anything about, and recieved a 45 second tutorial on from his bitchy nurse) backed up and he almost went into shock. Up on the mountain, with just me, 50 minutes away from a hospital. So, yeah, I totally found his surgeon's home number and woke him up at 1:30 in the morning.

Jason left me. Oh, yeah. That was wonderful. Especially the part about how he hasn't loved me for a year......and how he is of the opinion that I am a truely terrible lay. That was lovely - and because we can't afford to pay capital gains taxes, I can't _not_ live with him and sell my house until I get an IRS exemption. Which means I've moved into the slightly moldy smelling storage room. Not that I wasn't given a choice to stay in our room - oh, right, let me stay in the same room and sleep in the same bed where I've lived the last year of my lie....or is that life?

So, that's that.

On the plus side, it means that (once I sell the damn place) I won't have three other grown people to clean up after and be servant to. I'll probably stay with my Dad while they to the treatments (5-6 months, at least) and then just get some place with my dog and me. And no other bloody people. At least I've had one "learning experience" from this whole thing - I am just not meant to live with other people.

Privacy will be a nice change.

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Hi-del-didley-didle-dum...
I just bought....

a fiddle. A nice little beginners fiddle and instruction packet.

I did a little reseach first and found the one that got the best reviews for my price range. I have to admit being pretty amazed at how much prices have gone down since I got my last musical instrument (a flute, and a pretty shitty one at that).

I got the fiddle with case, a stand, some rosin and an instruction packet for 160.00

I've always been impatient with myself and musical instruments, but I have a pretty good feeling about this one.

Besides, I've _always_ wanted to learn to play one.

Cel

P.S. - I got the idea for my Epic series. Right now I'm trying to figure out first story arc logistics. Hoody-hoo.

Current Mood: bouncy

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Epic News
Marvel is running with its EPIC line. For those of you who don’t know, EPIC will be an open submission comic book line. Open submission for pencilers, inkers, colorists, letterers – and writers. Pay scale outlined at www.marvel.com/epic

The point is, it’s open. If you can plot an issue, you can send it in. It boils down to the fact that they prefer Marvel Universe (MU) submissions because they make more money, but are also accepting good creator-owned universe and characters.

Now, Marvel will be editing submissions, etc., but they will not be editing books in the typical sense. No deadline pressure, no editing-editing. That’s up to the creative team. What this means in theory is greater artistic freedom and no pressuring deadlines. What it could easily turn into is a series of comic books with one issue every 4 months, if that, shoddy plotlines that Mac trucks would fit through, and all of the attendant problems of lacksidasical(sp) editing.

I can easily see EPIC turning into a horrific parade of lackluster, Claremont-ripoff writings and Jim Lee-ripoff art that rehashes terrible storylines in an even worse way.

But.

But – I can also see visions of grandeur. Can’t you see Kielle spinning No Way Up into comic book form? That’s kosher now.
Or Dex getting his hands on Emma Frost?
Or Darqstar with a Beast mini-series?
Cable in the hands of Alicia McKenzie?
Kaylee and Logan?
Matt Nute writing Captain America?


Or……even me. If I could come up with a workable idea…….a workable script. God, can you even imagine the feeling of opening up that comic……and seeing your name there? Well, maybe you don’t have to imagine it.

Current Mood: amazed

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The Nail-Biting Wait.....
I hereby decree that I will never, ever, ever, ever not feedback a story I like again. I promise! Honest!

Oi - so this is what my friends have been talking about, the whole time.

Current Mood: stressed

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What I'm Going To Talk About Today.
Right now, I could talk about how non-idyllic the sister's visit was. But I won't.

I could talk about all of the icky chores I have yet to do. But not today.

I could bitch about the guys, or about work, but I have more important things to talk about today.

I just posted a story.

Do you hear that world?

I f*cking did something. I wrote something. Not great, know. Probably improperly characterized. I wrote fanfic - a byproduct of an already created universe, no new characters. Partially recycled ideas.

I'm not disputing any of that.

But I wrote.

I have not written a story, for public _or_ private consumption....in 2 and a half years.

I am so happy I could cry.

Current Mood: accomplished

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Stolen from Frito:


1. Red’s little tap dance
2. Alisha’s giggle
3. My Dad’s stories
4. Sweet old lady customers
5. Chickenfeet’s grin
6. Pam McGovern’s ‘anger’ stories (“I could have BURNED him in his BED!”)
7. Julie’s wicked innuendo
8. Seeing old friends
9. Someone making me dinner
10. Finding new quarters to give to my favorite customers
11. Compliments
12. 3 o’clock days
13. Ferret ‘chuffles’
14. Clean rooms
15. Good dinners
16. Everyone doing their chores
17. Warren Ellis
18. Chasing after Eliel and rythmically chanting his name
19. Sherlock humor
20. Aristotle humor
21. Louis Black
22. Food Day
23. Sister visits
24. Porch Dancing
25. He-Man

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Family - the pro argument
My sisters are coming, my sisters are coming!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, for one day only (one sister is leaving the day after the other is coming in, so they're both staying longer), THREE Kidd sisters AND the Patriarch, all in one place. Let's get ready to inbiiiiiiiiiibe!

I can see it now. Beer. And Vodka-tonics. And Champagne. And Margaritas. and Wine.....and gourmet food brought by each sister, trying to outdo the other....Tom T. Hall, Frank Sinatra, Willie Nelson, Tony Bennett, Ray Charles, the Statler Brothers and me valiantly explaining the neatness of my latest Irish Drinking song collection blaring from the radio......no matter how cold and raining it is, dancing on the porch with our Dad while children and husbands look on, confused and occasionally frightened/disgusted.

Tender talk. A little good crying. Insisting that we 'kick that sucker up' into a happier song, to dry tears and get us on our feet. New stories. New lives. Old loves.

My Family.

When it's good with us, nobody has ever had it better. And I wouldn't trade them for the world.

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Why I Am A Great Huge Ponce and Other Such Maunderings.....
That's right - I'm damned poncy. Look at my last few entries. Ye gods - you'd think I was twelve again!

You know, it's probably the saddest thing ever, but I was trying to convince Jason to come with me to 'The Tempest' at the Blackfriars Playhouse and I was explaining the play to him.

Then I realized - I've never seen the Tempest. I've never read it. You know how I was able to recite the plot?

I used to watch Wishbone.

I am such a dork.

Celendra

(For those of you who don't know, Wishbone was a PBS show about a cute little Jack Russell Terrier who could read and would act out the starring part in whatever piece of classic literature reminded him of his 'humans' current plight. Oi.)

Current Mood: embarrassed

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Everybody Leaves
Contemplate that with me for a moment.

Everybody leaves. Everybody.

Sooner or later, at one time or another, inevitably. They will leave. And you, my friend, shaking your head at my cynisism, will be alone. Just like me.

Just like all of us.

***

Have you ever recognized a good person when they were right in front of you?

Or do you notice it later, thinking back on them?

I've recently come to the conclusion that I am actually a good person. Me. I'm a good person. I'm a good cook, a good woman, a good housekeeper. Me. Of all people.

Now, the only trick is how to shine a brighter light on that....

(Hey, I said I was good - I didn't say I was humble. Or perfect)

Current Mood: crushed

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Life In A House
My house is perfect....

Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, big beautiful kitchen full of bright colors and beautiful counters and my big new kitchen table of wonderfulness. My fireplace in my living room, my mantle and my yard, the new plants from my housewarming party. The basement, with the vast expanse of the gaming room and the little loud corner of the music room. The laundry room all ready to recieve the washer and drier.

My house is perfect.

Except.

(It's always that 'except' that gets you.)

Except for the filling of every one of those bedrooms by the guys, Jason and I. Except for the fact that they've stopped doing their chores and haven't finished giving me the money for the food. Except for the $140 electricity bill we got yesterday. Except for the ant problem that I battled and won. Except for the constant stream of strange boys in and out of my house, to play in the band room or on the three networked computers or the gaming systems or the Warhammer table. Except for the Den Mother aspect I find myself in. Except for the fact that it's a month later and I still don't have my washer and drier, which means I have to go to the laundrymat and get hit on by that sleazy Mexican guy with the big cowboy hat again.

Except.

My house is perfect; I'm still figuring out how a 'home' works.

Current Mood: discontent

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Blarg
Sinus infection.

Yuck.

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Life, life, life...
Milestones come and go, and hit me like a ton of bricks every time.

Sunday was Jason and my one year anniversary. He brought me flowers, we went to dinner, and then we had our first fight. Ever.

You know, because trust me to fuck up a great day, if it can be done.

We got over it, it was just things we both needed to work on.

Monday night, my Dad called. Now, I hadn't called him in about a week and a half, because I felt guilty that I got my first speeding ticket and am too nervous to tell him and, even if I'd been entirely sanguine about a conversation, I've been too busy to breathe. The conversation went something like this:

"Hey, Dad! How've you been?"

"Well, last week I was in the emergency room from 6am until 10pm. They thought I had a mild heart attack, but now they don't know what it is."

".......oh my god! Are you okay? I mean, what are they doing??"

"Oh, whatever. You know, I think you need to come down here in the next few weeks so that we can talk. I think I'm just going to sell this goddamn place and move away. I mean, f#ck it - nobody ever comes, and it's killing me. Why not?"

"Oh....god...well, you should come over here. If you're lonely live over with me."

"No. Absolutely not. I'm just going to go somewhere - anyway, I've got to go."

*click*


Jaw dropping. My father can sometimes act like an immature two year old when his feelings get hurt but Jesus Christ! Aren't I the one who helped him through cancer, who held him during the treatments when his piss was toxic and he cried himself to sleep? Wasn't I there through all of that, and never dumping my problems on him??

For Christs' sake, he could have _called_! I'd have been there in a heartbeat and he knows that! He's just so stupidstubbornselfish that he can't ever, ever do the asking - I _always_ have to come to him and drag things out of him.

I mean, dammit, I'm buying a house!! There are things every day that make me want to rip my hair out and I'm essentially doing this by myself. I haven't had a spare minute _TO_ call him, even if I wanted to. There is always some sort of crisis between my car breaking, Jason's car breaking, something happening with the SIX (yes, counting Jason I now take care of SIX guys in a two bedroom townhouse!!!) guys that are essentially my children - the phone line works _both_ ways. I had no idea he was hurt.


I just wish he had called.

Current Mood: crushed

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