Too much Thinking. Again.

One of my favourite quotes, talks about dreaming, something I do a lot of.

"If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time."
--Marcel Proust

This is one of the things that I struggle with. I also struggle with fear of failure and chronic pain that kicks my ass on a daily basis. Though, sometimes, I kick it's ass. Like yesterday. Yesterday was a good day. But, as payment, today I'm exhausted. I'm still hoping to do something with myself. We'll see.

But dreaming. Dreaming I do a lot. I dream about simple things, like tattoos I want, how life would be different if I just have the energy and nerve to go to the gym (no really), I dream about being braver, being obese rather than morbidly obese, about pretty shoes I'll never be able to wear (I have no arches).

I dream big too. I dream about what life would be like if I'd made different decisions, if I was a different person -- this is often where many of my stories come from, or at least how I flesh them out to make them feel real. I dream about being a writer. About being published. Of course my actual issue is finding the energy/time/creativity/bravery to actually write, to allow myself the possibility of failure. I have such a hard time with failure...

Proust is right though. They key is to dream all the time. If I did, I'd write. I'd look at my fear, face it down, and just keep going. I'd fight, I'd find the motivation, somewhere, somehow, and I'd fight. Fight the pain, fight the exhaustion, fight the fear, fight the doubt that screams in my head.

But how does one do that? How does one dream all the time? Is it even possible? Is it selfish??

Oh how I want to write. I want to write modern love stores, sex stories, mysteries, life stories. The mundane and the fantastic swirl in my head, and come out in my dreams. I want to put them on the page, I want to make them come alive in words. I want to share them with the world.

But if I'm going to write, perhaps I should look to write for money. Freelance? Make some small amount of money writing crap for hire. Ugh. I find it horribly distasteful, but as my husband pointed out, he wouldn't pick his job, if he had money enough not to work. Work is work, it's not fun, it's not something you enjoy, it's not something you may even like, but it gets you money so you can sleep in a warm bed and eat regularly. Reality shitting all over my dreams.

I have so little energy. So often I pick doing dishes, getting groceries, making food, instead of going to the gym, or sewing those curtains that have been sitting there for a year, or doing something for me. Writing is just sitting at my laptop, which I do already, but, it's still work. I still require my brain to be with me, I still require a pain level that doesn't blur my vision (yes, this can be an issue). Writing still turns my brain to mush after a few hours.

So do I dream, or do I let reality shape me? Ugh.

I mean, I take November, and I let writing be my job. I attempt to write for eight hours a day, sometimes more, because my muse, she doesn't show up when I want her to, she's like a cat, she comes and goes at her will. The point is, that month, I put everything else on hold to write. Because, you know what? Being chronically ill means, I just don't have the energy to write all day AND do dishes, buy groceries, clean the apartment (a job I find difficult when not working), watch our budget, or do fun things like, spend time with my husband, or knit or read or craft.

One thing Nano has taught me is, I can't write 'full time'. I just can't put in that many hours. I'm just not capable. I don't like letting everything else go. There needs to be balance. I just don't have a clue what that is yet. So I haven't written since then. December was devoted to Christmas. And these past two weeks?  I've been dreaming a lot about the various stories I want to write. I've also been trying to get our lives more in order, and I've been dealing with some very painful times.

I want to dream. Oh how I want to dream. In my dream, my writing eventually pays off, in that, I make some money, not a lot, but some. I've never dreamed so big as to think I'd be in line with the greats, with the women writers I love, but, man, would I love to be a footnote. I'd just like to see something I write, eventually be in print. Like actual print. Though, the first step, I think, is online publishing. Getting my work on someone's kindle, ya know?  I want to be read. I don't care if all it ever brings in is pennies. I want to be read. I want.... I want to be a writer. I have since I was a kid. I still have the same problem, I still have trouble with actually getting it done. I guess, the real issue is giving it time, taking time to write. Allowing myself the time, and space to fail, to write really badly, to learn from it and get better.

I sit here thinking about it and worrying. Worrying if I take the time, if I make it a priority, if I write what I want, my husband will get upset with me. If I can use my limited energy to do something that doesn't get me a paycheck, then I should use that energy to find a way to make us some money. I don't even know how to go about finding freelance work. I looked once, and was totally overwhelmed. I don't have ANY experience. There's nothing I can put in a portfolio. I've done some technical writing, but everything I've written was under a non-disclosure agreement, and so long ago anyway, that I don't know if I could do it again. Not well. So how do I manage to get someone to hire me?! No clue. Man do I feel unemployable.

All this Yarn and I Can't Knit Myself a HAT?!

I have two under the bed boxes, one full-size coleman cooler, and another 12x18 inch box full of yarn, and I don't have yarn to make myself a soft, snuggly, super-warm hat.

No really.

The trouble is, a lot of the yarn is already ear-marked for things.

All the yarn in the cooler, other than the tiny discarded bits, is for the baby blanket I'm making. It's also acylic, and I'm so not making a hat for me out of it. I'm a yarn snob. But, I also sweat a lot, thanks to the drugs I'm on and the FMS, so if it's not wool, my hat will get damp and cold and miserable, and won't fulfill it's duty of keeping me warm.

The yarn in the box is for a sweater for me. I haven't started knitting it because I'm now as big as a house, and I don't think I actually have enough to make one to fit me now. Yarn keeps, so I'm waiting.

The one under the bed box has lots of matching balls, but it's either earmarked for other projects or unsuitable. The other box, has lots of wool, but most of it is bits and pieces, there is no one colour that I would have enough of, and none of it is the right weight to get me a super-warm hat anyway. I can't use it double, because, again, not enough in any one or even two matching colours. I refuse to knit myself a hat I can't wear with my winter jacket (because it doesn't match), that just doesn't make any sense, because believe me, if it doesn't match, I won't end up wearing it.

*sigh*

Maybe I'll just steal Chris' hat. His old one, not the new one, that would cruel, it was his xmas gift last year. lol.

Also, speaking of my husband, he's learning what it means to live with a knitter.

*giggles*

Last night I was staring at my bin of yarn, that's all different colours, and bemoaning that I couldn't believe that I couldn't find enough of something to make myself a hat. I mean, it is kinda ridiculous, but I know other knitters will understand!  Chris knew better than to agree with me. He knew it might send me into a tirade about how all the yarn I have is unsuitable!

But it really is!!! Damnit.

I want a snuggly soft hat like the one I made for Chris last winter. But I don't have enough of the yarn I used to make another, and yarn brand went out of business!! There is no more of it to buy, anywhere. I've looked. *sigh* And I have yet to find a replacement brand. In all the yarn Romni sells, I have yet to find a brand in the same weight that's as soft and snuggly. There is one cascade yarn that's as soft, but it's twice as expensive! The yarn that was discontinued was already at the limits of what I was willing to spend. So that's no good. BAH!

I just want a soft, snuggly, super-warm hat! How is this such a tall freaking order?!

I'm giving up, for now. Maybe I'll think of something as January creeps closer.

Food I've made!

This post is devoted to food I've made recently that I'm proud of.

First, I made thanksgiving dinner, for the first time ever. Everything was made from scratch, and man, was it good!

 

Here's the Apple Pie. My first, if you can believe it.

I also made my first Carrot Cake for our first anniversary. It was, in a word, magnificent.


 

Now, clearly, I didn't make/cook this, or rather I don't have a picture of it cooked, but I just had to share it as I think it's really really neat. Yes, neat. It's a pointy cauliflower. It tastes like regular cauliflower, but it's green and pointy. I saw it at the market and couldn't not buy it, it was too neat. Yes neat. I'm a goober.

You know, all my life I've wanted to be great at something. Just once I wanted to be great, at whatever, just something. I've always been good at whatever I studied, but I had to work my ass off to get there. I was an average university student. I made it, it what I say about it. I'm a good writer, I think. Or at least I know I'll be good, but not great.

Well, I've finally found what I'm great at. I'm a great baker and cook. It's like I have golden fingers -- everything I bake turns out fabulously. And it's easy! And I'm learning how to tweak certain kinds of baked goods the way I always do with cooking. It's awesome. I love doing it. And, my mom, I can hear the pride in her voice when we talk baking. She knows I'm awesome at it, and she's actually told others I'm good! :D It's.. it's everything I wanted and more. It won't bring in money (I'm too ill to bake and sell it), but it brings me joy, and my family yummy baked goods. Finally, finally I'm great at something.

What Makes a Story A Story?

You'd think after taking a class I'd have that question more sorted out, but I really don't. In part, I think all writers struggle with finding the story, it's all part of the craft. But I can't seem to see when I don't have it. I'm not sure I've really found it yet for any story...

The trouble is, I don't like conflict. I really don't. So the bits of the stories I'm drawn to, that my mind seems to easily come up with is the... back story.. The bit that happens when things aren't interesting. Just everyday kinda life stuff.

I keep finding characters I like, bits and pieces of stories, but I don't know where to take them. I know something is missing, and I can't seem to figure out what it is/how to fix is.

One thing I've not yet tried since the course is just blurting it all out on the page. I want to try that. And soon. Just write everything I can about the characters, the scenes that speak to me, and see if somewhere in it all a story presents itself.

Our teacher told us that the story begins when the status quo is challenged, that's the crux of things. But it's tension and conflict, overcoming obstacles, that's the story, that's what makes a story as opposed to a pleasant anecdote.

Part of my trouble is, of course, is that I love pleasant anecdotes. That's what I've spent my life telling myself when my life isn't what I'd wish. Or when my life was too full and I needed to to drift off to sleep. I'd escape to another world, be another person, live another life. I wouldn't go have adventures, so much as I'd go have romances. Gods, that's embarrassing to admit! But I guess, for most of my life, that's the bit that was most glaringly missing. We didn't have conflict/trouble/adventure to pull us together, but rather time. A slow, true deepening of trust, knowledge, etc. Or sometimes they'd just be hot flings. Much more like life than any story.

All this leaves me wondering if I'm capable of writing stories at all. It's the conflict, the tension, where it all seems to fall apart for me. *sigh*

Maybe I just need to keep writing. Maybe I just need the courage to allow myself to try, and fail. It's okay to fail, as long as you keep trying, as long as you keep writing. If Alice Munro (who is apparently amazing) has false starts, and takes many wrong paths before she gets to where she knows what she wants a story to be, then it's perfectly natural for the same thing to happen to me, a novice.

I just have to learn to let go. To just write, without expectation. To just see. To not feel the effort wasted if the story doesn't come immediately. *sigh*

So where do I get all this courage?

Good Dream

I had this amazing dream last night about vampires, predators, aliens, crazy hotels, and in the middle of it, dildos and chocolate chip muffins. LOL.

It started out... at an old house. Three stories. Turn of the century. Farm house, middle of no where. I don't fully remember why I was there. I think I was protecting someone, or rather a group of people. We were under attack. Vampires. So very fast. I'm almost positive I had a gun.... Like AK47. Semi-automatic. But they were too fast to shoot. I couldn't even see them. We were trying to get them out, the people we were protecting. Many of my men and women died. Fast bloody deaths. But we got some of them out. Some of them just didn't make it. We had planes standing by, though heilos would have made more sense.... Maybe they did take heilos.... If I do turn this into a story, it will be heilos. lol.

I remember being on the first floor. It was a battle just to get there. I think we were on the second or third floor to start. Fighting our way down. Me and another woman. We made it down. She captured one of them. I said we should just kill him and get the fuck out. But she wanted to take him with us. I told her she'd be responsible for him then. She used a wooden chair to break one of the huge windows and threw him out onto the lawn. We were making a run for the last plane. I have this vision of an old school plane with two sets of wings. But the inside was high-tech. Dreams never do make sense.

Anyway. I lost the other woman and her captive in the field, I think. All I know is I made it on the plane, and got the thing to take off. The pilot was just gone. It was just me. I remember thinking: Fuck, I don't know how to fly this plane. But how hard can it be. I can do this. I must know how to fly the plane. LOL Even in my dreams bits of me realise I'm dreaming and don't know my characters whole backstory. So, I get the plane in the air, everything is going fine, and then boom. One of the engines gives out. Hell, I could very well have been shot down. The plane spins out of the control, and crashes in a field by the house. At this point I realise I'm dead. There is no way I could have survived the crashed and lived. And yet I keep going. I keep running.

This is where I meet up with the other woman and her captive. We are in the snow-covered field trying to hide from whomever is coming after us. They have guns. Vamps don't have guns. Or at least, vamps don't NEED guns. It's not vamps chasing us now, it's the military.

I'm laying in the snow, willing them not to see us, realising the grass isn't tall enough, or the snow deep enough. They should be able to see us. But they walk right by us. Human military. Machine guns. Black army boots. Helmets. They appear to be looking right at us, but they don't see us.

We escape.

It's a dream. So it's all fuzzy. I'm not sure exactly what happens next.

I remember walking along the edge of a wall - something a human couldn't really do, something *I* could never have done. I hear a voice in my head, images. I follow where the voice leads, in a section of city. So very pretty. Black wrought iron balconies. Yellow brick, low-rise apartment buildings. Eyes everywhere watching me, but I can't see them, only feel them on me. Watching, appraising.

The voice tells me about vampires. Fast. Strong. Long-lived. Hard to hurt, very hard to kill. Heal so very fast. Powerful minds, powerful enough to change the way humans around them see the world, see them. They are the perfect predator. They have no rival. But nature hates imbalance. That's why she created the others. So very like the vampire in every way, strong, fast, agile, powerful mind and body, great healers, hard to kill, hard to stop. And that's what we are. What you are, it tells me. We hunt them. They hunt the humans. We lay with the devil and they have no idea we aren't them. This thought terrifies me. Vampires are a dangerous lot. If they found out what I was, that I wasn't one of the, they'd do worse than kill me. I was already dead. Goddess knows what they'd do. You're one of us the voice keeps telling me. Hard to believe that.

Somehow, once again, I meet up with the woman from the farm house. We meet a group of people, well, not people. They are other. I can't tell if they are vamps, or this not-vamp the voice in my head keeps going on about.

There's a male, shorn head (very very short dark hair), Collin I think. He has a lovely Irish accent. He's wearing a sleevless t-shirt. Kinda athetic/mountain climber type. There's a man with long dark hair, dark eyes, reminds me of Antonio Banderas, but he's got an English accent, or at least he does when he wants to. Calls me 'puppet'. Seems kinda nice, for a vamp, or whatever he is. Another male, shoulder length blond hair, muscular, beautiful, very Eric Northman, has the voice too. He's a total asshole, but he's beautiful. There was a thin, fit, petite, dark haired woman. I think she's the one that talked in my head. There's at least one more woman, but I can't quite picture her....... Tall, lean, very like a french model. She pouts perfectly. This sounds like the woman that came with me, but it's NOT the woman that was dragged away... and that IS the one that came with me.. So this one must be the one at the table. The one with me was my height, dark shoulder length hair, strudy build, muscles, fit.

We, me and the woman from the farm house, meet up with this group as they are going into a hotel I think? It ends up being a hotel anyway. Somehow along the way she seems to have lost her hostage. Or at least I don't see him here. We join them. Sleep in some large room. Get up and go to breakfast. I think they have some kind of meeting, and we join them at the table. Or rather Collin is at a table in what looks like a food court. Farm warrior and I sit at the table with him. But two men in blue coveralls come out from two swinging doors behind the table and drag her away. A few mintues later the rest of the gang joins us. I'm shocked. I have no idea what's going on. Who took her, why, or what's to happen to either of us. Collin seemed to give the order, but I don't know why, or even what the order was. I think she was to be incarcerated, but I don't know by who. He wouldn't tell me who the men were when I asked. You don't need to know was all he told me.

When we were up in the hotel room, he and I were talking. I think he talked about losing his family. About some kind of loss that made him sad. They weren't a touchy group. I didn't know any of them, or even my standing with them. Why had they let me stay? I had no clue. But his sadness touched me. I thought of my mom and pa. I thought about how heartbroken, how devastating the news of my death would be to them. I wanted to call them. To tell them I was okay. To not believe that I was dead. But I was dead, wasn't I? I didn't know what was going to happen to me. But I didn't care in that moment. All I wanted was to not hurt them. And I saw, or thought I say a kindred spirit in this man. Before we left, I stopped him, and said, I hoped he wouldn't take this the wrong way, but I just had to do it, and I hugged him. I hugged him and told him I was sorry for his loss. Then I let go abruptly and walked to the elevators with everyone.

I remember sitting at the table eating a chocolate chip muffin. I felt I needed to eat, though I don't actually remember being hungry. The rest of them had said something about being very hungry. They'd gone somewhere else to eat. I was sitting next to the gorgeous blond. I think my eating offended him. I was steaming mad at Collin for betraying my trust, for not telling me what the hell was going on. Somehow the question of who I would kill came up. It think Collin asked me. I told him I'd kill him first and the the blond. The lady sitting beside him asked why - the tall model thin one. I said because he was so beautiful. He got all strangely cocky, asked if I really thought he was beautiful. I said, of course I did. I had eyes, I could see. he was lovely. Everyone in the room looked at him and knew it. He said if I thought he was beautiful now, I should watch something. There was a sort of sitting area behind us, we were on the edge of it I guess. He walked to the far wall, all calm business, then RAN through the middle of the sitting area. He was magnificent when he ran. It was almost like he shone, or bled golden light, and not just from his hair. But no one looked at him. No one paid him any mind at all. It was as if he wasn't there, or as if they just couldn't see him. He came to sit down, he took a large bite of my muffin then yelled something unintelligable at me, spitting large pieces of muffin at me. It even stained my white tank top.

I guess I knew he was offended by my eating after all. He sat down. I told him yeah, yeah, you're beautiful when you run as well. so what? Were you using your eyes he asked me. Of course I was. But what did you really see he asked. I saw you run. And how did the people react to him this time, asked the same model lady. They didn't. They acted as if they coudln't see him at all. Very good, said the blond, you were using your eyes. Yes I replied sadly. I picked up what was left of my muffin, threw it in the garbage and walked away from them.

As I walked what I saw changed. I kept blinking and my vision changed. At first it was almost like I could see two versions of the world, then it came in focus again, just one version, but not the one I was used to. There were aliens everywhere. People hiding as human, but I could see the bits they hid. Large heads, third eyes, technology in the floor, lights, maps, data, all in the floor.A man and a woman were playing a game, but as I blinked, I saw them pouring over some kind of document in the table, and the game pieces were like drives of some kind holding more information. Their bodies where totally human, they were shapped just a little wrong, and they were wearing white jumpsuits, not khakis and t-shirts. I kept walking away from the vamps, or whatever the hell they were. I never looked back. I didn't falter. I didn't want them to know what was happening to me.

I ended up near the concierge desk, and a woman appeared out of no where to one side of me. She held a white translucent clip board that was actually some kind of computer. She was wearing the hotel's uniform and asked if she could help me. I told her I wanted to go back to my room, but I didn't have a key, and for that matter I wasn't sure I could even find it. She knew just where I wanted to go. Said the son, Andrew, 10, was in the room, and he'd let me in. We were staying with his family, but they didn't actually know we were there. Strange that. I thanked her and made my way to the elevators, that were now WAY more complicated than they were a few minutes ago.

To be continued..... (hopefully I'll remember!)


It's very late. My husband had gone to bed. He doesn't like going without me. Nor does he like it when I stay up. So I better get my fat fungus infested self to bed.

Urban Fantasy

So I finally figured out what the name of my favourite genre is. My favourite genre to read, that is. Urban Fantasy. Kim Harrison and Laurell K Hamilton are icons of the genre, and two of my favourite authors (well, when just considering Laurell's earlier works anyway).

I love fantasy in general I think. I mean, I learned to read with Dr. Seus, and it doesn't get more fantastical than him to me. As a teen, I learned to love reading, and expanded my vocabulary with, what I'll call, traditional fantasy (knights questing on fictional worlds) with David Eddings. Seriously, that man has an amazing vocabulary!

I'm not entirely sure I can write fantasy well, urban or otherwise. The one thing my teacher keeps mentioning is my lovely, poetic word choices. Perhaps I'm a poet at heart? Buried under the years of practical engineering training? LOL. Anyway, where I'm going with this is, I do choose words well, for the most part, but I have so much trouble with everything else. I'm just not good at challenging the status quo. I hate conflict. I'm not good at creating tension. And that's the whole point of telling a story, damnit.

I don't think I could ever write things like Kim Harrison or Laurell K Hamilton does. I love mysteries, and a bit of violence, don't get me wrong, but writing them? I'm hopeless. I'm not a fighter. I'm like the exact opposite. I wouldn't even know where to begin in describing a fight, never mind creating it in my head! As for the mystery part, I love reading them, but I don't actually have any interest in writing them. Does that even make any sense??

So what do I want to write? To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that I have a story in my head, and it's what I want to get out, it's what my brain goes to when it goes quiet, it's what a mull over before I fall asleep, it's what I think of when I look at a blank page. Until this story comes out, until I turn it into a story instead of just a dream, I'm not sure anything else will come out, or matter.

What kind of story is it? Well, I'm not entirely sure yet. Paranormal. That much is certain. Possibly romance, though, of that I'm not certain. I have characters, I have a setting, I have desires, but I'm still not convinced I have a story worth telling. It's still muddy. And it's making me a bit crazy. Maybe I just need to take the time to get more of my thoughts on the matter on the page. I'm not sure. I'm just not sure.

I wish I could talk it over with someone, but.. who? I don't really have friends... certainly not ones willing to listen to be babble about a novella. I could babble at my husband, but he'd just get angry with me, and wouldn't give me any kind of feedback, which is what I need. *Sigh*

Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a writer?

NaNo Time is almost here!

Once again NaNo is almost upon us, and it's caught me by surprise.  From the first time I heard about it, I've really wanted to do it, but... at the same time... I'm not prolific. I'm not really much of a writer to be honest.  But I wish I were. I'm more of a dreamer.  And man do I dream! I have some of the most fucked up dreams ever. Seriously.  Some of them are like movies. Heck, some of them would make pretty decent action movies! Most of them are just scenes, just bits and pieces. Not whole stories. I do not do whole stories so well.  I lack...... the ability to pull it all together... And yet..... it's really super tempting to try to write a novella length something!

I'm not sure what I'd write though. Everyone seems to have all their ducks in a row by now.  Me, I'm trying to think of something that would go on long enough.  There's the Alejandro story, or the disturbing one about an abusive possibly murderous mom....but I honestly don't know where that could even go.  *Sigh*  I just.. I don't know....

Well, I guess I have a week to think about it... Maybe I'll bug a friend who is doing this for the fifth year to see if I can bounce ideas off of her....

I almost want to start with an idea and keep writing and just see where it goes. Maybe it will go somewhere, maybe it won't..... But I just.....  I really want to try.

OMG, Nightmares!!

I can't sleep. I'm not letting myself, though I'm totally exhausted and sick to my stomach for lack of rest. I'm terrified to go back to sleep. And I really really don't want to wake Chris up yet again.

You see, I woke up about 6 or 7 times, gasping for breath, trying not to scream, from intensely terrifying nightmares in a very short span. Every time I would wake up Chris, likely with a start, poor man. He'd ask if it was a bad dream, I'd say oh yeah, and then promptly fall back to sleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open, no matter how much I wanted to! :( The last time I was gasping, I didn't even had a nightmare, I was just starting to fall asleep, realised, and woke myself terrified. Chris got cranky, saying I needed to stop so he could get some sleep.

So here I am sitting up on the couch, trying not to fall to sleep, and wondering where the hell those nightmares came from. *sigh* It's been a long ass time since I've had a string of re-occuring/repeating/re-entering nightmares. It sucks major hairy goat balls. The only thing I can think of is that I took a lot, and I mean a lot of ibuprophen today trying to stem the very intense pain of the UTI I have. I wasn't thinking of it at the time, but I think I took like, 4 times the recommended daily dose. No wonder my tummy hates me.

The worst part is, of course, that I still fucking hurt. But I don't have much more than ibuprophen available to me for the pain. It's something I plan on talking to my doctor about this week when I get my physical. It's imperative to any future good health I might have that I have some better fucking pain meds available to me, damnit. But my doctor is really terrible about pain meds. He's never willing to give me anything more than tylenol 2s which, if I take them again, won't fucking help for very long as I'll rebuild my tolerance for them. I need at least 2 to make any difference as it is. I need something stronger. But that's not likely. *sigh*

My doctor has known me for 31 years, hell, he presided over my birth! He knows me. He knows I'm not faking it. I'm not some kind of addict looking for a fix. And yet he won't fucking give me anything for the pain. It's making me crazy frustrated. The pain makes me fucking useless. I'm bedridden with it more than I'd like to admit. Between the migraines, tension headaches, and the fibro, my life is filled with pain, and it's a real struggle just to survive it, nevermind DO anything. I'm fucking useless! I can't work. I can't take care of myself. I can't even help around the apartment half the time because I'm in too much fucking pain. What the hell good am I?! What the hell good is a life like this?! It is no life. Damint. And I hate it. I hate the pain, and how overwhelming and tiring it is. I hate being useless. I hate being so fucking helpless! BAH.

And I'm so fucking exhausted right now. I'm practically falling alseep as I type, but I'm just so damn terrified to even try to sleep. My dreams were worse than bad. They were terriying, and painful. They shook me to my very soul and filled me with fear. I don't understand what any of them were about. I was being hunted, that's the most prevalent theme. Hunted, caught, and attacked. My hunters kept trying to kill me it seemed. I was hit on the head, bludgeoned,
drowned, all sorts. I had no chance to defend myself, almost all the attacks were sudden, I totally didn't and couldn't see them coming. The ones that lasted longer, I had no way to defend myself, my enemy then was incorporeal/metaphysical.

Maybe I'll try sleeping sitting up on the couch. I don't want to go back to bed as I really, really don't want to disturb Chris' sleep yet again. I've done that enough for one night. He hasn't had a good night sleep in days, as he's been on call, and I feel like a total ass for fucking up his first chance at good sleep. :(

I has Wedding Shoes!!

I knew from the start what I wanted in wedding shoes. Part of me would really love to buy a cute pair of kitten heeled pumps, or even some kind of girlie flats, but I have broken feet, so it just isn't going to happen. My feet are a mess. If I'm not wearing my orthotics, my feet hurt. I'm okay for little stints, but a whole day? I'd be in tears by the end of it. This is not what I want for my wedding day!

So I knew, going in, my shoes had to fit my othotics, they had to be comfy, and they had to be flat - FH and I are the same height, I do not want to be towering over him on our wedding day. It was easy really. The idea popped into my head from the start, and would not be shaken, no matter how many cute girlie shoes I have looked at (none of which fit me anyway). I wanted red, suede sneakers. It was perfect; it is perfect. No one is going to see them under my dress anyway. But if they do, red suede toes peeking out suits me just fine!

I spent the day looking all over downtown Toronto for what I wanted last week. I visited every single shoe store between Yonge and Spadina on Queen, to no avail. I had to resort to shopping at a US website. And I'm glad I did!

Here are my red suede sneakers!! :D

And here there are on my feet (the colour in the picture above is way more accurate!):



They fit,they're the perfect red and they're suede, just like I wanted! Yay!!

Now I just have to decide if I want to use the white or black laces they came with, or pick up a pair of red laces. I'm sitting here wearing them, and I actually think I might pick up black laces, as the ones they came with are really too short. I've got them tied tighter than I'd like, and they barely tie at all. So strange!

Anyway, I love them! They are just want I wanted. :D :D

Yay comfy wedding shoes I don't have to "break in"!!

Four Months to go, and LOTS to do!

I haven't been on OBT(Offbeat Bride Tribe community site), or even looking at Offbeat Bride for the past few months. I sorta overdosed when I started out, and really just needed a break from everything wedding. Life got in the way as well, as it tends to do. But with fours months until our wedding, and me being an obsessive complusive personality, I've started thinking wedding again.

Thus far we have:

• Sent Save the Date magnets
• Bought Wedding invites (though they may need to be changed. o.0)
• Ceremony venue
• Humanist officiant
• Music picked for the ceremony
• Ceremony wording & vows 99% laid out
• Reception venue (same as ceremony)
• Reception table/guest layout
• Photographer (I love her sooo much!)
• My dress is being made (I get to try it on for real on the 29th!!)
• My shoes are bought, though not here yet (impatiently waiting for order to arrive)
• Suit for groom, and a shirt I hope will work!

What we(I) need to do:

• Finalize Engagement & Bridal picture locations
• Book engagement & Bridal sessions
• Finish groom's outfit - Needs cravat, vest and cuff links (if I can convince him of the first two!)
• Make wedding jewellery - bracelet and necklace perhaps?
• Commission talented friend to make headband
• Finish knitting wedding shawl
• Finalize Wedding time-line
• Make How to get there instructions for guests
• Send out invitations
• Make Wedding Day Agendas for guests
• Pick Reception Menu
• Pick/find reception music
• Make centre piece vases for flowers
• Decide on what kind of cakes to make, and whether to do two separate cakes or a two tiered cake
• Bake the cakes (obviously this won't be done until the week before the wedding)
• Buy and make the flower arrangements (again, in the days before the wedding)

The more I think about this, the more I have to do! *gulp* And yet, it feels like everything is done, and I should be doing more. Damn WIC is totally getting in my head!

Over the weekend I chose our vows, sussed out our ceremony's wording, finalized the ceremony music, emailed the venue, and ordered shoes. I should say we, though really, I did all the work, and said 'what do you think of this' and he said yes or no. So yeah, I get the credit. Though, my FH is great, he totally gives me credit too. :) Anyway, point being, we're whittling down the list, slowly but surely.

I have to say, I find it really strange, that when I was looking at vows, and trying to come up with my own, what spoke to me the most was the traditional 'to have and hold" vows. Actually, they are what we both think of when we think wedding, so that's what we're going with.

I'm torn on whether or not I want to add to our vows/ceremony an "I love you because" speech. Part of me really wants to share with our families why I love him so much, and what makes him special to me. I think it will have a very personal, humanizing touch to the whole thing as well. But I'm not sure how he feels about that. And I also realize I'm a shy person in general. I hate hate hate speaking in public, and I think I'm be crazy scared on the day of. At the same time... I want to be brave, ya know? I want to stand up in front of the people we love most and say, this is the man for me; I've really thought about it, and I know just what makes him special, and I want you all to know what I see in him. Does that make any sense?? Will that just over-sharing??

More Weird Dreams

I did a lot of stuff this weekend, more than I usually do - went out Friday night and thus stayed up late, got up early Saturday, went to the zoo with rambunctious 2 yr old & his parents, went to lunch with them, then to Shasta's in the evening, stayed up late again, and then went to Asy's bday dinner Sunday!

That's a way fuller weekend than I'm used to! No surprise I was exhausted today. I thought I was fine, until I washed Chris' sweater by hand (mostly just soaking & squeezing the water out). When I was done getting the water out, I need to rest for like 15 minutes just to get my heart to stop pounding. I took that as a bad sign and had a nap

While I napped, as you can guess from the title, I had some weird ass dreams.

In my first dream, I was out somewhere in an unfamiliar city, and the pope tried to kidnap me! Yes, the pope, in his popely garb, crazy hat and all! He had a needle, with I'm guessing something to put me out, and he kept grabbing at me, and trying to poke with with said needle! It was really scary! The pope was seriously creepy! And he kept poking me/grabbing me in the ribs and it really really hurt! I hate when dreams hurt like that.

The second dream was way more cool. I was a student at a high school for, like, super heroes. It was President's Day at the school, and so myself and a group of my friends were trying to convince the school council president (who was this really sweet, naive, painfully pretty young man) to stay indoors and let us protect him. You see, our school had a history/tradition that on President's Day, basically the entire student body would try to kill the council president. They'd succeeded many times too! This practice was considered 'good practice for future life' by the school authorities, so it was really up to us to keep our friend alive. He was new there, his first year, he couldn't believe anyone would try to kill him, bless his little heart. So we spent the day trying to keep him indoors, beating up fellow students, and generally saving his ass.

The next thing I remember my group of friends were out and about in the city for the day, having 'escaped' the school grounds (I think it might have been a sanctioned trip). We saw something going down that looks highly suspicious - our spy radar went off - so we investigated. I started following the young blond that looked like she was trying to make a drop off of some kind, and the gang split up to see if we could find her target/figure out what she had. I followed the blond around a street market. Things were.. fishy. I tried to buy some rice from a vendor, and he said he wasn't open for business, even though he had all kinds of food set out. He said I could just have the rice... I got the impression he was doing illegal business, or that he'd poisoned the rice, as the blond had just bought some. I dropped the rice and ran after the blond. I literally bumped into her coming out of a shop - oops!

I was more than a little worried at that point and asked her what she had in her bag, while I was opening it - not a good subtle sky me. o.0 I realied she had some kind of a list. She was even worse at the spy thing than I was, because she started babbling about having to get the list to [the american's possibly? some group I was actually affiliated with]. I said I could get it to them, that they were my superiors, and she said no, the woman who gave it to her said not to trust the ones inside the boarder, she had to get it to the foreign contingency. That someone was coming to get it but she couldn't trust me. I told her the streets weren't safe, she should stay with me, and my friends would find who she needed. I radioed the group, telling them who to look for (the blond told me - I think this is how it went anyway), but when I turned around the blond was gone again.

I ran after her, or where I thought she'd gone, into this tough ass neighbourhood. There was this gang of black men in front of a Jamaican restaurant. This craggy old guy told me I didn't want to go into the restaurant as I tried to pass, thinking the blond might have hid there. The other men laughed/jeered threateningly, and I agreed with the old man. I tried to get out of there, but the old guy pulled me to him with more strength than I thought he'd have. He started to dance with me. At first I fought him, wanting to go, then I went with it, pulling him with me, he went willingly when I was dancing with him. Finally we got far enough away from the gang, that they couldn't just grab me and I made a run for it. One of the gang members started following me, into the open market. I jumped up on a fish counter, and started jumping/running as fast and as far as I could. I could jump about 12 feet in one go, and as I jumped to another counter, I saw the gang member matching me! This is when I thought "wtf, regular people just cannot jump like that. This is not normal... what is going on here." I was also worried that I'd not heard back from my team. This just wasn't good, but I kept running...

As I turned the corner heading towards the market exit, wondering where the hell the blond had got to, I see one of our instructors... possibly the vice-princapal. Pointy, sharp woman, I did not like her. I liked her less to see her here now, with that look on her face. She started yelling at me, saying I'd screwed everything up, and how dare I take matters into my own hands, blah, blah, blah. Apparently we'd interrupted a deal she was trying to make, though she'd found the blond - no thanks to me - and taken the information from her. The blond was standing there looking guilty, and unhappy. I don't think she wanted to make a deal with the evil bitch... I didn't back down, maybe I should have, but she just pushed my buttons. I yelled back, "What kind of fool tries to plan a spy meeting when she knows her students are going to be all over the area and are going to realise in two seconds flat that something shady is going on?? The girl kept looking over her shoulder! The vendors were more than shady, hell, they'd poisoned the food! You of all people should know some of us can smell that even! The 'gang member' was no normal human, and jumped just like me! He blew his own damn cover, not my fault!"

She said she was going to punish me for my rudeness and teach me my place. I told her to do her worst, I didn't give a flying fuck, she's the one that screwed up, not me. She pulled out an electric shaver, like out of her purse! And she shaved the very front/top of my head where my bangs were! The bitch!! Then she said she would expel me, though she didn't have the power to alone, she'd have to get the principal to agree. I was so livid, I just stormed off.

My dream ended with me going back to the school, to see if I was kicked out I think, some time later. I had a shaved head, and cherry red doc martens on. I looked so cute! lol. And then I woke up.

Crazy dreams eh?

Pagan Party in the Woods?

I had this crazy dream last night. So crazy I just had to write it down. Chris says I should write my dreams down because they'd make good stories/books. I never see the point because they are usually just moments in time and not full on stories, but he's probably right. If I combined all my dreams I would get one very random story!

My dream started out with myself, Neda, and Chris being invited to a party, I think by a gay former co-worker. We saw him on the way there, he was bringing his bf, and some other people... The party was at a camp ground, closed to the public for winter, though it was fall.

When we got to the camp ground main building/gates whatever, I can't really remember the surroundings, we met the owner of the grounds, and his daughter, both aboriginal, though the daughter looked very familiar, like I might have been in school with her. Apparently the best man (I think) of the coming wedding had gone to HS with the daughter, and maybe I had too. She had helped him find his spirit guide and he had fallen in love with her. The Daughter had not. The owner thought this was all terribly amusing. The young man was so very enamoured in a most harmless way, and his daughter was obviously just kinda annoyed. lol.

The best man (again, I think), asked the daughter to commune with his spirit guide, and then she would know exactly what kind of party to create for him. I thought it was going to be his birthday party...

When we got to our first destination, the event was actually a wedding! The couple and their wedding party were wearing wellingtons! Even the bride hiked up her dress and splashed through the shallow water to get to this HUGE flat rock about 10-15 ft out from the shore. They were married at the peek of sunset. It was gorgeous. I totally had wedding envy! All the leaves were red, yellow, and orange, they lit up in the setting sun. It was so magical!

After the ceremony they a band with bongo drums and such playing music on the rock, and as the sun disappeared behind the trees, they had fire blowers (people that light liquid from their mouths on fire) all over the side of the hill near the edge of the lake. There was like 7-8 of them spitting fire and juggling torches. Everyone was sitting on blanket on the side of the hill watching the show, talking, laughing, cuddling. In fact, everyone was cuddling. It was such a friendly, positive atmosphere. Really, very cool. They even had people coming around with free beer, including the best man who was glowing with pride. It was such a wonderful celebration!

Then we went for a walk in the woods - along a path to a clearing up the hill. No one wanted to leave the lake, but I guess you can only spit fire for so long. The owner's daughter met us at the clearing and told us we were going to all find our spirit guides. She said it could take anywhere from 20 minutes to 3 hours. She told us to go look a the board to see what our spirit animal could be, then to walk out into the woods for 20 minutes, but to be sure to be back by then as she was going to be putting on a show.

As she said this used the big ceremonial knife and cut two holes in the skin on the side of her abdomen. She worked her fingers into the hole, lifting the skin from her body. Very bloody! She implied, I think that she was going to do something with her spirit animal for the show, and immediately I had an image in my head of her wrapping a snake around her body and into the hole in her skin. *Shivers*

I think is when my brain decided to distance myself from what was going on, and the dream became more like a movie that Chris and I were watching, and the girl that I was identifying with/the main character of the movie we were watching, was this 17-18-ish yr old girl with long dark blonde wavy hair, and an asshole for a boyfriend. She freaked out when the woman started pushing her fingers into the hole she'd made in her skin - rightfully so. Everyone else was either already half way to the woods to find their spirit animal, or was in the "cool! blood!' group.

The girl was really upset, and wanted to leave. She asked her boyfriend if they could leave now, and he was so cruel! omg! He told her he thought it was cool, and what was her problem anyway, and he wasn't going anywhere. The girl said she was going to walk home, and her boyfriend laughed in her face, asking if she was going to walk for two days, she said yes. No one else was willing to help her, or even give the poor girl a ride into town!

So she started walking. At this point I thought/said to Chris, "uh oh, she's never going to get home. She's going to come to some horrible end on the road home, just watch".

Well she walked, and walked, until the sun came up, and she was still walking by the side of the road, so tired so almost fell into traffic! The fact she wasn't dead yet was rather impressive. Though why she didn't just walk to the nearest town and see if she could bum a ride to the nearest bus stop I don't know.... I guess it wouldn't be a movie if people did the smart thing, this is what Chris is always telling me anyway.

So we fast forward to the next night I think. She's found a pay phone. We can see her breath in the streetlight. She calls her dad whom she lives with. She knows he's not happy taking her in after she left her mom - I think her mother was abusive, I got the feeling her mom was not fun to live with and her father had taken her in sort of against his will. Anyway, she calls. She's almost in tears. You can see the desperation in her face/eyes. She doesn't think she'll ever make it back home, not that it was much of a home to begin with for her. She asks her dad if there's anything he wanted to tell her. He doesn't understand. She says, about the time she's been gone, is there anything...different. I think she wants to hear that he misses her, that he wants her home, where has she been? She was only out on a date, and now she's been gone days. But instead he says "it's been nice without you here." She starts crying, her hand over the phone so he can't hear her gasp in pain. Her voice strangled, she tells him she'll just go back to living with mom if that's the case. Oblivious, and callous, he says okay and asks her if there was anything else she wanted. No she says and hangs up. Now utterly lost.

The next thing we jump to, is a bunch of young people sitting in the seats of a old-looking theatre. The stage lights are on, but there is no one on the stage. A tall, thin, elegant woman, with black hair pulled back in a severe bun is standing talking with them. She is most definitely in charge. She's wearing a dancer's outfit, come to that so are all the young people. She's telling them that part of their job is to come to shows while they are not dancing and to work the room, making sure guests are having a good time, and to liven up the parties before and after shows. She tells them their goal is not to dance well but to dance tolerably. She makes them all repeat this. As the 'camera' pans, we see our girl! Her face looks older/harder. Her hair is back in a bun like the instructor woman's. She's wearing a LOT of make-up with bright peacock blue eyeshadow that matches the blue leather of her dance shoes. You can tell her life is hard, but she's surviving, somewhere in the time lapse something innocent in her died, but she learned what it meant to really stand for herself and to survive. You could see it in here eyes. Come hell or high water, she was going to survive.

This is where the dream ends...

Fucking Fibro

So I haven't been doing so well for the past month I guess. I don't really know how long it's been. All I know is I'm at my breaking point once again. Every day is pain. Every day I wake up exhausted and with absolutely no desire to do anything at all. Some days I don't even shower. That's how little I care. I just can't be bothered. I hurt. I'm nauseous. So fucking nauseous I can't bare to stand up long enough to make myself something decent to eat. So most days I don't eat lunch. It's just too much effort for me. How sad is that?!

I hate living like this. I hate what I've become. I'm SO fucking useless. I can't even take care of myself never mind be of any use to anyone else. I hate it. Yet I still can't seem to manage to DO anything. I have no motivation, and I don't know how to change/fix it. Nothing matters enough. No matter how guilty I feel, no matter how much I try to convince myself I need to get up, I just can't be bothered. I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm miserable. I just can't be bothered.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!?!

Seriously. I hate this. And the drug just isn't helping enough anymore. I'm actually afraid I'm reacting badly to it now. My face has been on fire for the past few weeks. My skin is just so hot it hurts. My skin is raw from the heat. It doesn't matter how cold I am either. I can be shivering with cold, and my face is still hot and sore. What the hell is going on with me?!

I tried upping my dose of cymbalta. My doc said I could try it if the 30mg wasn't cutting it, and it's not. But I can't handle 60mg. I can't sleep. I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a mack truck. The pain is worse because I can't seem to get any rest at all. And the perverbial straw that broke the camel's back is that I had hallucinations the last day I took it. I was half awake and thought there was a lost child in our apartment. It took me 10 minutes to manage to really open my eyes and see what was actually there - nothing. That scared the crap out of me, and I went back to 30 mg. But it just isn't helping. I hurt. I hurt all the time. It's so draining.

I'm angry and depressed and I don't want to live like this anymore. I can't take it. I feel so lazy and useless. I hate it. I used to have drive. I used to be able to fight through the pain, and I just don't seem to be able to do that anymore. My brain just asks "what's the point"? When I try. I mean, really, what is the point? I'm going to hurt no matter what. There is nothing I can do. Nothing will change the fact that I'm in pain, that I'm always going to be in pain, so what's the point?

I just... I can't force myself to care...about anything. I hurt, and that's my whole world, there is nothing left but the pain. I don't want to live like this damnit! I feel so weak. Weak because I can't fight it, weak because I have no desire left to fight it. Weak because I do nothing. Christ, some days I don't even have the energy to complain! How pathetic is that?!

I love Chris, I do, honest to all the gods I do, and yet I can't manage to pull myself out of bed, and even do the dishes for him, or do laundry, or clean, or make dinner. I just... I have no motivation for anything. I never used to be like this. What has happened to me?! I don't want to be this person. I'm fucking useless. I hate it. I hate what I've become.

I don't even have any desire to knit!! ME! I love knitting! I have a hard time not knitting. My hands feel empty when I'm not knitting. I can't just sit and watch tv, I can't handle the nothing my hands are doing, and yet now... I haven't knit anything in well over a month. I just... I have no desire for it. This isn't right. This isn't like me. It's just not.

I don't want to be this person. I really really don't. But I don't know how to not be. :(

Wedding Dress Woes

I knew it wouldn't be easy finding a dress. My size alone makes it hard. Add to that I really want a red Taffeta dress. Almost no one has any dresses in anything even remotely my size, and the ones that 'fit' or are close.. well many are just so not my style. There are very few I've liked so far. *sigh*

There is one dress I've just fallen in love with by Mori Lee (well, except for the rose, and funky thing hanging from it):



But in going to a Bridal store today with Neda, we saw Mori Lee's swatches, and the red Taffeta is just not shiny or irridescent like the other colours. :( Boo! So even if I ordered it, I wouldn't be happy, because the fabric wouldn't be what I want.

I feel like I've looked at/tried on quite a few dresses, and nothing is just right, or perhaps even right enough. I'm beginning to worry that I'm just being too picky and am falling into the trap of being a 'princess'. *sigh* I do not want to be a princess, damnit. I want to be able to try something on, like it well enough, and think "This'll do". But every time I try something on, it's just "meh".

As I look, I'm realising more and more, that I do know what I want, and that is making it much harder for me. I really do want Taffeta. I love Taffeta. All the dresses that catch my eye are either Taffeta or raw silk, which shines similarly. As for style, I want some kind of ruching or pleat on the bust, a high waist, preferably with a ruched belt, and a full (we're talking semi-circle of fabric here) skirt. I really want tea-length (aka mid calf), because then I can potentially wear this dress again. I'm honestly not sure what kind of neckline would be best, however.

I'm just... I'm so torn. On one hand I think I should just settle/be happy with... simple, off-the-rack, and under $300. On the other, I want what I want, and I'm horribly tempted to look into getting a dress custom made. Chris told me before I went shopping in the states with the girls, for me not to get upset/sad if I didn't find anything; I could just have something made; even if it would be more money, I'd get the dress I'd want, I'd be happy, and I'm worth it. Isn't that sweet? I really am very lucky to be so well loved. :D

When looking for dresses online previously, I found Lisa Van Hattem and I kinda fell in love with her and her website. I don't know, something really struck me. She seems so friendly, and all the dresses on her site and her blog are so lovely. But one thousand dollars?? I'm really not sure I can stomach paying that for a freaking dress. I mean, even as much as I say I'd like to be able to wear my dress again, I'm really not sure if I'll ever actually get another chance, and paying $1000 or more for something I'm only going to wear once just seems so ridiculous. This is part of why I wanted to go with a 'bridesmaid' style dress in the first place!

In the past week, Neda and Sabrina have come dress shopping with me, which I really appreciate. We had fun! Imagine! And I hate clothes shopping generally too. Today Neda took me/came with me to a couple places around Toronto. Not much luck, but worth it, as I got to see thw Mori Lee swatches. Going dress shopping alone would really be no fun at all. It'd be downright depressing, especially with the luck I've had.

I think next week I'm going to get Sabrina to take me in to Rainbow in Hamilton, see what they have. You never know. Then maybe I'll decide about the custom route. I'm just not cut out for all this running around - I'm exhausted! Damn Fibro is so kicking my ass energy-level-wise.

I hate weddings.

I really do hate weddings. Hate. Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate weddings.

I'm really seriously considering just saying, "fuck it", to ALL of it and eloping. We can take our parents out to dinner at some point afterwards, and that's that.

I refuse to spend $10,000 on a wedding, hell, I can't even, in good conscience, spend more than $6000. I refuse to go into debt to pay for the wedding. I refuse to have others tell me (us) how to run our wedding, so funding isn't really an option here. And I can't figure out how to do it for less.

There are certain things I really want for the wedding - things I just can't compromise on. It's all or nothing for me. Going half-assed would be just as disappointing and frustrating as not doing it at all. More even really.

Engagement ring. Wedding bands. Red taffeta dress and red runners. Having my hair done. New suit for Chris (he doesn't own one). NOT getting married in a church. Getting married somewhere pretty, preferably outside. Having my loved ones at the wedding. My mom seeing me get married, especially. Making the wedding cake myself. Getting a chauffeured car (I am NOT taking public transit, nor depending on anyone to give me a ride). Having professional pictures taken.

But to do all that really means having a reception. Chris wants a reception. It's the only want he's really expressed. It's the only part I've really wanted to avoid. Having a reception means money. Lots of money. Receptions are money and life suckers. Gods I hate them. They make me realise why I hate weddings all over again.

I just can't figure out how to do all this without spending an atrocious amount of money. And when I think about what it would really cost it sickens me. The excess. The waste. And for what? All this hoopla and what do we really have to show for it at the end of the day?! It just all seems like too fucking much.

I'm torn. I'm really honestly torn.

I feel like I'm getting sucked in by the wedding void. It's a snowball taking me down the hill into hell. (Mixed metaphors, I know. I'm angry. Deal.) One thing leads to another and before you know it, you're 12 grand in the whole!

I don't want that! I really really don't want that, damnit.

But at the same time it breaks my freaking heart to think of getting married and NOT having my mommy there.

So I don't know what to do damnit. I just.. I don't know what to do.

If I could just figure out where to get married --- that wasn't going to cost me $2000 in rental fees, then we could just fudge the reception as brunch at some restraint. I'd just make reservations for a large group, and we'd eat with everyone else. There is only going to be 40 of us. A big enough restaurant wouldn't have an issue with that. It's doable.

But where the fuck could I hold the wedding? I really do want the pretty red dress. I don't think I could compromise on that one. I just.. I can't. I want the dress. So the location has to match. I'm not getting married in some community gym. It just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. I'm just too spoiled for that. So where does that leave me?!?!

Fucking weddings. I hate weddings. I really really do. I don't even want to get married right now. I'm just so disgusted with the whole fucking thing.

My Table

Last fall I started my very first solo 'reno' project -- I decided to refinish our dining/computer table. This is a 20yr old, very solid, Ikea table Chris has inherited from his parents. Over the years it's gotten a lot of abuse and love. Recently however the top of the table has started to peel, chip, and generally loose bits of it's varnish coating. The tipping point for myself that it was loosing it's varnish by becoming splinters in my hands. So very uncool. So I decided to do something about it.

I've done a few wood stripping projects with my best girl Neda, and what I've learned is this:

1. Chemical strippers burn like a mother-fucker when they hit your skin


2. And no matter how careful you think you're being, you will get burned, dozens of times if you are anything like me


3. Hand sanders, like most machinery scare me (to the point of refusing to use them)


4. They also aren't the easiest things to control


5. Gauges in tables also suck, and are much harder to get out than they are to get in

As a result of past experiences, and because I'm a little crazy frankly, I decided to sand the table top by hand. Just me and some sandpaper. What was I thinking?! If I do this again, I'm definitely going to suck it up and use a chemical. It would have gone soooo much faster. Still, the experience overall is very positive, so I don't regret my choice. I feel the table it more mine now because of all the time, effort and determination I've put into it.

It took me quite a few sessions, with sore muscles, raw fingertips, and a lot of dust, but I got it done - eventually.


Just in case you didn't' believe me about the dust - I looked like this at the end of every session with the table

Trouble was, I kinda started the project late in the year. The cold weather hit us much quicker than I thought it would. So by the time the table was 95% sanded, it was just too cold to open up the apartment to finish it, ventilation being key.

Last week (or was it the week before now? I can't remember) we had some really nice weather, so I took to my table again. After another 4 hours of hard labour sanding the table top, it was finally ready to be finished!



I picked polyurethane because it was fast, and frankly because it would take far fewer coats to get a reliable surface. We do eat and compute off this table, any finish needed to be able to stand up to our wear and tear. Took me two days of coating, and letting it dry, with ever window and door open in the place, and a fan blowing out the noxious fumes - man does that stuff smell vile! Kills brain cells too, if not ventilated. I spent most of my time out or on the balcony to negate that possibility.

The end result: Almost Like Glass!!!


I'm so proud. Honestly, I'm thrilled with how it turned out. The polyurethane tinted the wood just enough that it's the exact same colour of the legs! Or, more accurately, I didn't sand down past the finish time had put on the wood! Yay! I think it looks great. I could not possibly be happier. It's so smoooooooth! :D Go me!

Dread

I'm really dreading going back to that place (mentioned below). I do not want to face that woman again. She crushed me. Although I think her expectatins are totally fucked up, I'm still feeling shitty and vulnerable, and she's going to make me feel worse. It's her gift.

I spent all last night beating myself up for being useless for two and a half years, I really don't need her help making myself feel worse.

I couldn't escape it, even in sleep. I just dreampt horrible, embarrassing/belittling things. I couldn't help it. I just kept thinking about how I was fired. How I should have seen it coming. How I've not been able to find any kind of decent employment since. I feel like an utter failure, professionaly.

I do not need that woman feeding my negativity. But she's so fucking condescending. The look she gave me when I told her the lowest salary I would accept, the lowest I could live on independantly. She looked so incredulous. How dare I think I could get that much. What. The. Fuck. Honestly now. I used to make the equivalent of $16/hr; I was paid a salary like the university graduate I am. From what I can tell, that's pretty standard for administrative assistant types. But I'm aiming way too high to even think I could get that kind of work?!

I do not want to talk to her again. She makes me angry. But in person I'm afraid she's just going to make me feel miserable, hopeless and useless again. I don't need that! I can do that all for myself thank-you-very-much.

I was looking for help, and instead I got the destroyer-of-hope. Gr.

I'm supposed to be going to an interview workshop there today. I really really don't want to go. But I guess I will. I feel like I have to. I may never go back there, however.

I have no 'game face'. I don't know how to wear a mask and pretend I'm someone and something I'm not. I don't have that kind of armour anymore. I don't know how to just shrug off her condescenion or her hope-crushing skills. I know she's wrong, but it still cuts like a knife. I have so little self-confidence as it is. *sigh* I don't need her feeding my worst nightmares!

Mushy

I just felt like I had to share.. It was just one of those moments of such incredible sweetness I needed to tell someone about it. So why not everyone who comes here?

This morning, just before Chris was about to leave for work, he came to say goodbye as he does every morning. Yes, I'm a lazy bones and I sleep in. And he's adorable and always kisses me goodbye. Well this time, he sat down beside me, kinda tucked me in, and told me I looked beautiful. I was drosy, and not quite fully awake, but I think I managed to make a face at him. He expanded saying, "You're normally pretty, but you look beautiful, in a drozy sort of way, but still beautiful." (I think I'm paraphrasing, but that was basically it.)

I just.. I was so overcome. There are no words. My heart melted!

Dreams

Had some bad dreams last night. One where this kinda cute(but SOOOOO not my type) very short woman was pushing herself on me. In front of Neda even.. I tried to stop her, didn't work. Tried to ignore her, she just kept trying. Finally I gave in a little, touched her, kissed her, but in the back of my mind and in the pit of my stomach I knew it was wrong. I just couldn't for the life of me remember/think of why this was such a bad idea. Then she said to me, something like, "I bet your boyfriend would love to hear about this," half snarky, half casual.

My heart fell. Right into the pit of screaming 'this is wrong!!' that was my stomach. Without thinking I stood up, knocking her off my lap and onto the floor. I was shaking so bad it took what felt like forever to get my shirt back on (we three were alone in my room but not in the house, and I needed to get away from them, I needed to vomit too frankly). Neda looked all confused, asked what was wrong with me. All I could see was visions of telling Chris what I'd done, or worse - of his finding out, of his hurt, of losing him. I was so distraught I could barely speak. I grabbed Neda by the shoulders, to get her attention I think, and shook her - more a result of my own violent shaking - saying, "Chris! Chris!". That was all I could say.

Suddenly, or at least it is sudden in my memory, the scene shifted. I was in some kind of open public space, almost like an PATH food court in Toronto. Only I was laying on a bare mattress, my pants undone - no idea why. To my right was another bare mattress, with a late 20s man laying on it. To my left was a round table, with many people sitting around it. I'm pretty sure they were all my friends, I recognized at least Will.

The guy on the other mattress rolled onto mine and started talking to me. He mention something about my pants, I looked down and they were open - I was shocked, I hadn't known! I went to do them up, and he tried to stop me, put his hands on me. I was nice and asked him as polite as I could, to stop touching me. He just sneered at me and made his touch somehow lewd. I got angry. I grabbed him by the collar/front of his shirt, pulled his face close to mine - big mistake - and told him, between gritted teeth, to get his hands OFF me. When I tried to push him off me I realised I couldn't. He was fully on top of me, his legs pushing mine open, his hands where they shouldn't be, and that evil sneer inches from my face.

To my own credit, I didn't outwardly panic, I kept my brave face, telling him in a louder more angry voice to get the fuck off me while I tried in vain to get him off. This is when Will and I think Brian turned around and saw us. In a split second they had pulled him off me, saying, you heard her, obviously angry. They threw him in the corner behind the table everyone was sitting at, then got up and went over to kick the shit out of him. Meanwhile, I got up, shaking, to sit with everyone at the table.

Weird ass fucking dreams! And I woke up thinking it was 3:16pm - it was more like 10:07am though - musta still been dreaming. The melancholy of the dreams has totally followed me though.

It also really bothers me that I keep dreaming about being unfaithful! I would never NEVER do that!

Mr. Darcy

I totally dreampt about Mr.Darcy last night. Like a younger Collin Firth as Bridget Jones' Mr. Mark Darcy. I was working on a case... I was either a CSI (lord knows I could never be a cop!), or I was a civilian 'expert' working with the cops. We were looking for this woman. We didn't think she was a killer, but that she knew something about a string of parking structure murders. We needed to find her, and she sure wasn't making it easy for us. We were canvassing the neighbourhood where Mr. Darcy's law office was looking for her or anyone that knew her.

Gods know why, but it was set in good old Hamilton, in late November. Cold and crisp, when all the air smells of is sweet leaves and the coming of winter (the world has been smelling really nasty lately, so I miss winter's clean smell sooooo badly!)

Oh, and I should mention, for once, for once in a very great while, I was actually single and unattached in my dream. Yay to not feeling guilty for having the hots for someone! And I mean.. When it's Mr. Darcy... Come on! What woman could resist really?

Anyway, that's how we met... How it became a social thing, I have no idea. I do know we started out as "friends". He was in a serious relationship with a woman named Marcy - no lie. heh. Why they were still together I don't know. I hadn't known him long when I realised neither of them liked each other very much. All they did was argue. They had nothing in common really. They never actually wanted to spend time with each other, they both of them totally did the avoiding thing..

So I really didn't feel guilty about totally having the hots for Mr. Darcy! heh. And it was very much mutual too. That was the best part. The restained heat... I could feel it every time I was near him. It was intoxicating really. And the slightest touch lit me up like wildfire, it did both of us really. I could see it in the way he looked at me...

Man it was good! Complicated, but good... And fun. That first blush of getting to know someone. Haven't had that in a really long time. The getting nervous to call them, worried how they will react. That awkward moment when you try to find a sublte way to tell them you want to see them, or maybe that's just something I do. lol.

Anyway, it worked out ever to well in my dream! Mr. Darcy was going to teach me Samba! And I do believe we were going to go to the Winter Fair or some such together. I woke up then for a moment, luckily I sank back into my dream..... What a lovely dream! *happy sigh*