Category: fun

Tuesday Tunes

A day for me to discuss music

Lyrics:

I break the ice
So they don’t see my size
And I have to be nice
Or I’ll be the next punchline

I’m just the best friend in Hollywood movies
Who only exist to continue the story
The girl gets the guy while I’m standing off-screen
So I’ll wait for my cue to be comedic relief

Can’t be too loud
Can’t be too busy
If I don’t answer now, are they still gonna need me?
Can’t be too proud
Can’t think I’m pretty
Do they keep me around, so their flaws just seem silly?

I say I’m okay
‘Cause they wouldn’t care anyway
And I could try to explain
But my efforts in vain
They can’t relate to how I’ve

Drawn out in Sharpie where I take the scissors
If that’s what it took for me to look in the mirror
I’ve done every diet to make me look thinner
So why do I still feel so goddamn inferior?

Can’t be too loud
And can’t be too busy
If I don’t answer now, are they still gonna need me?
Can’t be too proud and
Can’t think I’m pretty
Do they keep me around, so their flaws just seem silly?

Life of the fat, funny friend
Life of the fat, funny friend

It’s funny when I think a guy likes me
And it’s funny when I’m the one who says, “Let’s go to eat”
It’s funny when I’m asked to go out on Halloween
Dresses and thigh highs, while I hide my body

Can’t be too loud
And can’t be too busy
If I don’t answer now, are they still gonna miss me?

Can’t be too loud
And can’t be too busy
If I don’t answer now, are they still gonna need me?
Can’t be too proud and
Can’t think I’m pretty
Do they keep me around, so their flaws just seem silly?

Life of the fat, funny friend
Life of the fat, funny friend
Life of the fat, funny friend
Life of the fat, funny friend

I’ve drawn out in Sharpie where I take the scissors

My Two Cents- I have been fat almost all my life. I was tiny before I hit puberty…but I hit puberty…I got fat. or so I was told.

I was two in the picture above.

And here I was ten. Through most of my teen years my mother had me on every fad diet there was. She was certain I would die before I was 30 by heart attack. So certain that she had me convinced.

My senior year of high school…I was 200 lbs….

I ended up 450 lbs and unable to move…but hey…I survived 30…

I am down to 270. I am still the same girl. the teen that didn’t understand what was wrong with me. The person who never felt like she looked good enough to be counted as cute, much less pretty.

Drawtober begins

Prompt: Gargoyle
Prompt: Scurry
Prompt: Bat

I know I only end up doing like 8-10 days….every year…but its fun to try. I can’t find the proper Drawtober prompts so I am using Inktober’s prompts – but I won’t use that hashtag due to issues on it. And next month it will be the PAD Challenge…

My voice

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Recently, I had someone give me unsolicited feedback. Now I am over that…but the reaction to my emotions afterwards…I have spent some time on. I was HURT…Like ready to delete the art program off of my computer hurt. I worked through that, because you know that is my responsibility – to deal with the emotions and the reasons why I feel them. I did not take it out on the person other than to tell them that they hurt me and that I did not appreciate the unsolicited feedback. That night I recorded a video rant on tiktok, Not naming or pointing any fingers to anyone. Not even being angry. I left it in my drafts folder overnight. Unsure if I would post it. Because the initial reaction to my hurt was her doing the OK like I had no business being hurt. She had immediately said sorry in a hey now I need to make you shut up kind of way. and then when I tried to explain my hurt she kept saying Ok…

Now I realize that I am nowhere near perfect. My voice has been stolen too often, So I guard it, I guard my ability to control my ability to express my self. No one can take those things from me. I have very distinct boundaries because of this. Well the next day I had worked through most of the hurt. I was able to see it for what it was and not do something that I felt would be foolish. I watched the video I had made and decided it was not me doing nothing but lashing out in hurt. I decided that it was a fair video and good content. Something that I often have issues posting, everywhere. So I posted it. The person decides that means I am still mad and starts sending me WTF messages. I told her I was never mad, only hurt. She blows that off as it is the same thing for me.

I am now questioning myself and everyone I know and love to be sure that my anger and my hurt are not manifesting the same way. They are not, but as this person mostly deals with me via social media she would not know the difference. I consider this person my best friend…some days my only friend. So I am devastated that she really doesn’t know me. I end up with the last things she says in the conversation bouncing around in my head all damn night. I am not going to put the exact things in here…but it is the same thing that always comes up when I enforce a boundary. ‘Well I did not realize that you expected that of me!’ Why would a boundary not apply to you? Because you are my closest friend? It seems that would mean I would not have to enforce the boundary because as my closest friend you would understand the damn reason for it.

I recently heard that the boundaries someone has a problem with are the limits to their respects for you. Now I wonder if I am mourning a friendship. I am wondering if I even had a friend, or was there only to make her feel better. I hate that. I love her. Still. That is the worst of this. I don’t halfway give my heart to anyone. I still love everyone I ever have…even if I can’t stand who they have become.

*Edit to note I don’t yet know if I am mourning our friendship. Time is the only answer for that. I sent my thoughts via email and am awaiting a reply.

Creative Intelligence and Generational Curses

So my daughter and I were talking. I told her I was happy that she was comfortable enough when the kitchen flooded to cuss at me. To me that feels like she was able to express herself without worrying that I would be angry about it. I am big on self expression, which should surprise no one. She said that her therapist encouraged her to use whatever language she felt the need to express the thoughts in her head. *This is where I should note that we really don’t know any other language except American English. We know a few smattering of words in other languages, but not enough to be a fluency of it’s own…but swearing…well…yeah We swear like sailors around here. She mentioned that my mom had said that swearing shows a lack of intelligence. I so completely disagree. I think that it often is looked down upon, but there are times when a good creative swear (note I said creative) shows more intelligence than not. And not always does the swear have to be dirty. One of my favorites is a foreign (for me) word that means shame on you.

I have tried to make my home a place that my kids can call to express anything. I don’t judge them for speaking their minds. They can literally tell me anything. I am their safe space. For me that is what home should be. It is not what all of us had.

Tuesday…what more can I say?

The last couple of days have been a whirling shitshow. I am completely out of my routine. Today I am dealing with an enormous amount of laundry…and the various dishes that are actually normal for my house. I am squeezing in doctors appointments and errands. I somehow want to attempt to write today. I am an ambitious soul after all. The end of the month is coming quite quickly, and I have two anthologies and an indie author publishing in October.

I am already preparing for kid’s week – The first week in December. We have books planned by A.R. Clayton, D.W. Storer, C.M. Snow, Raz T. Slasher, and 2 by me. (One picture book and one middle grade). I feel like It is going to be a good offering this year. The first Call is out for the spring anthology. And I have submitted a poem and a flash piece of Serena’s to various places. Some things are just falling into place. I will let you know as I hear about the submissions and the results there.

Middle of the night floods, epiphanies, and dinosaurs

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I was going to do the usual poetry update today…but my kitchen sink busted last night…well a piece of it did. We have a hose attachment that allows us directly to use water (my dishwasher is a portable) and the hose busted. It is not going to be an expensive fix. Just was a panic at 2 in the morning because of the flooded kitchen. It got me thinking, much as most incidents like that do.

My daughter was the one who had found the flooded kitchen, and bless her she immediately went to work cleaning up the mess. She sent me messages to wake me up. She was comfortable enough to curse at me for not answering the phone (I was actually in a deep sleep for a change). I wonder if I would have ever been so with my mom.

We had a conversation while we were stuck at Walmart about what our favorite dinosaur was (hers is a Saurolophus, mine has always been a triceratops) and I adore the little things that I can get to share with her. (The dinosaur conversation was initiated due to a figit toy she had in her purse. A club tailed dino filled with sand that can be manipulated various ways.)

I don’t remember ever being comfortable enough talking to my mom about anything. My doctor finds my mom and I to be a funny topic. I told her (doctor) that My mom still is blaming me for a virus I had as a teenager. I had infantigo when I was around 11 or 12. Mom is still convinced that I caused it by picking at it. And even though I am in my late 40’s brought it up as I was going to cause myself to get it again. The doctor thinks it’s funny. It is a bit of the epiphany for me.

I always expect my daughter to be amazing. Even if she has a bad day, she is going to be amazing. Nothing can change my mind on that. My mom expects the worst about me. She always has, always will… and I have to stop letting her voice color my self view I have spent 47 years trying to be good enough for a woman who is never going to see me as adequate. Time to change my aim.

Imposter, memory, and the color of history

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Reguardless of the reason why the conversation happened, I was struggling with imposter syndrome. It irritated my boyfriend. So he proceeded to point out that Mark Twain was not a college graduate. I smiled at him and started listing the authors that had a college degree. Unfortunately most of them we not known during their own lifetime. It got me to think…

What will be history’s thoughts on me? Will I be relagated to some dusty shelf for books that no one reads? Or will I be someone’s favorite author?

The thoughts of the nutcase stuck in Walmart…

The Existential Question

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So I have been busy working on publishing tasks yesterday, Well that for me included dealing with the dreaded Goodreads Now admittedly I don’t do everything I need to with it, because every time I go there it is the same thing. I can’t claim all of my books on there. Not even the ones all written as me. The reason – My name is too common. I should be able to give the information about the book and claim it…but no. It is based on the name of the author. I am debating doing a rebranding. Adding my grandmother’s maiden name in as my middle name (I tried my middle name to start with…it is even more common.) Still I wonder how much I should rebrand? Should I just start from here? or go back and rebrand from the beginning? There is a lot involved. I just don’t know if Goodreads is worth the effort. I have my amazon author page. I have my books2read reading list. Does anyone other than authors even really use Goodreads?

Though I have to say that I am annoyed by how common my name is. Names have always been a fun thing for me. I wanted to write as Susan Ann Andrews when I was a girl. I really thought it was the prettiest name out there. I chose to write my poetry and my kid’s books under my name because I wanted to love my name again. I wanted it to be mine again. It was part of healing the abuse I had been through. I chose to do the pen name of Serena Mossgraves for my horror and darker stuff so that my kid’s books would not be tainted by those writings. So I am struggling now. Do I really want to rebrand simply because of how common my name is? Or do I stick with who I am? This really feels like I am facing an existential crisis. Do I change my persona for the idea that I am not fitting in? Or am I fitting in too well? Oh crud. I really don’t know what to do here.

Yesterday I was sure that I needed to change the branding. Today, I wake up and find in my email in response to my help request…OK we merged this and this….I look on goodreads…now one of Serena’s books is listed as Patricia. And still not even half of my books are listed as me. I still can’t claim them. Changing my brand will mean I have to go and fight them for the right to the listing all over again. In order to change it I need to go into KDP and D2D and Google Play and Barnes and Noble. Change The Details on each. I need to upload a changed cover for each. Then I need to hope that I have not screwed something up. For one or two books it is not that difficult…but I have a catalogue of around 30+ It is a hugely daunting task. OK… I can change my branding from here on out…but the whole reason I wanted to do it was because of Goodreads not letting me accept my books…if I change my brand it will throw them into a worse fit.

I think I need to think on this. I am going to do nothing about it until after the first of the year at the least. That way I can be sure I am still needing to adjust and I don’t feel like I rushed in for stupid reasons.

Late Again

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I sometimes feel like Alice… the rabbit hurrying me for fear of being late. Admitted, I expected to be late for today. I was not in the mind space for blogging last night. To tell you the truth I am not quite there yet today. I survived the MRI. Though I was scared to death of it. This week I am going to be late if I post anything. I hate doing that but it has been a crazy week and it is only a Monday. I guarantee that I am not going to be able to do my blogging usual, but hopefully what I do post will be worth reading.

So, hurry hurry and let us see… what exactly the rabbit has in store for you and me.

An end of an Era…Maybe.

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The title of the post is thought catching, Isn’t it. I finished writing Handprints on my soul today. I was trying to decide how to announce it, and the Release date – November 18th… On the blog and I ended up joking that it was the end of an era…and it just seemed appropriate. Each of the volumes feel like a section of my life…

So the era of Handprints is over. I looked through the covers and I think the next general volume will be Thoughtcicles. When I woke this morning I found it was cold. We are at the very beginning of fall. I love fall, but I don’t really like the cold. I feel like I have more trouble thinking in the cold. Since I will be starting to write this in colder weather I feel like it is appropriate.

I will be over the next few weeks starting the marketing for Handprints, alongside Not another Danny…and the other stuff that Fae Corps is releasing. But for today…Here is the last poem in Handprints on my soul.

The last poem.
Literally.
And somehow…
I see eternity.