The Struggle, No, The Juggle

I look forward to NaNoWriMo coming up, if only because it seems I need motivation to write or even draw at this point.

Not just because of some struggle, but like the header says, it's the juggle.

If you've followed then you've seen my doll posts have been the most frequent. I've... accumulated quite a bit more than the 'doll' I set out to do. Since starting Project Rienna, I decided to get Talia, a medium sized doll, a tiny... or two or three and there will be a third addition to the big dolls who will be my Lyria from the first series as well.

Dolls seem to be my catharsis from the stress of juggling-- work, my nephews' school year, cat caring insanity, etc. I juggle a lot that has little to do with my hobbies and creative work but nevertheless affects them.

Today, I read another of Antonio's wonderful screenplays, but for the most part, I plan on simply relaxing. Started to sew Rienna's bathing suit, but decided after reading the screenplay, I'd hunker down and watch movies. Welcome to Marwen and Glass are on the roster when I finish this up.

Juggling life, well, IS the struggle and I do still adjust to medications and recently had a root canal that means I'm at a chewing level below a toddler at the moment, but that will get better. Things often have to get worse before they get better. The struggle is about adjusting and learning to not take for granted the good things to come.

So, with all said and done, time to wander off and dream another dream. At the very least, the screenplay inspired me with an idea from the second book of the series that will carry a subplot for the one I currently, or will be, writing. 

UnHeard is a struggling story. Not for lack of ideas or muses or even some creative block, but because I've given the lead character more of my painful and hard to decipher mysteries and fears from my own life. It's hard but necessary to separate my experiences from hers because she can't handle it the way I would and succeed as the person she is, anymore than she could make sense of my life were she the writer of my tale. I don't mean to sound cryptic here, but she is only relative to my experiences and it's not meant to be a memoir or an outlet, just being lent the perspective of my knowledge. I'm not using her to understand or even accept myself. I'm using my own experiences to make a more poignant and insightful story. It's just not one that can pass without taking something out of me.

Anywho, movies. I love to blog for anyone who would read it, but relaxation is still the name of the game after a stressful work week. I should only be working two days this coming week; and hopefully, because I'd like the energy for creative projects, not just some down time.

Be sweet, my babies!

My Hiatus From Writing

Although I technically write daily, after a few weeks of none of that being drafting, there's a point where I've honestly accepted that I'm not really working towards those goals at the moment. The admission is scary for some, but it can be a motivational tool; if not, then it's certainly a mark of accountability.

There are reasons, of course. Good ones, even. Still, I consider the reprieve as a yellow area, a warning that will start to darken and haunt me the longer I disregard it. I can certainly be satisfied that the ideas are growing, the scenes find better ways to unravel, but the more I consigned them to notes, the less they'll bloom fresh in the pages of a draft. I already know; it is possible to overplan as much as under.

Even drawing and crocheting has felt segmented from direct purposes. While this isn't the same as burning out--insofar, I've been enjoying these things in small doses still--I can't be too careful. When I love something, or even obsess on it, it is just as shaky as an addiction. We never feel the point where the fun and control plummets into dependence and desperation. It's not creativity that I dip into at all, or the addiction comparatively. Creativity is not the place that is difficult to go; it's the place I'm from. In a way, it's reality that is closer to the addiction. It's the reality of life that makes me breathe shallower and holds me under at times. It gums the gates to home and makes the air itself thick with obstacles, stretching my skin like a canvas along the way.

But I've given myself a yellow flag. The reminder that I've spent too much time anchored away from myself, that the pining that grows cannot be allowed to continue. I have to cut ties, find what is holding me back, be willing to stomach the strange faces that wonder why I'm retreating when nothing seems amiss. Because going home means a place where I don't check messages, I mumble to myself, I don't ever know what day or time it is and I'll screw up my face as I pause to answer questions even about myself. At home, I'm not all here. You'll think I'm upset but it's the exact opposite. My energy just goes to home. It's not this side of me that anyone should worry about. It's the one where I'm smiling too hard, too worried about making sure I'm not worrying you, stressing over the same trivial things that are supposed to be normal.

I'll get through today in a blur. Tomorrow, I'm starting the day doing laundry and baking cookies. The rest of the day, I'm looking for the bread crumbs back home and making a mental note to better mark my way back. I've been away too long.

Hot Weather on Blast and Video Game Glitch Fun

Temps rose up to the high 80s at the end of this week, making me (and my cats, to some degree) puddles of unproductivity. One thing I've always done since I started acquiring technology is to always operate them at optimal temperatures. Even if I were a little lax there, the heat that processors put off are enough of an incentive to give them a rest. The only saving grace being that I had the foresight to buy and install heat repelling window film on a cool morning before the heat wave started, so my sanctuary stayed at an uncomfortable high 80 range instead of the unbearable 100+ range that it normally cooks to under the punishing summer sun.

Unfortunately, it made for an irritable, restless weekend nonetheless and I ended up sprawled out and soggy, a whole limp box of greasy French fries instead of my usual grinning cheeseburger self. Even simple cleaning tasks like putting away laundry or organizing felt more like a five mile run and the sweat poured faster than I could rehydrate. Threw me off bad enough that my hormone levels went wonky and the irritability made me avoid human interaction more than usual. You know yourself long enough and you feel that set in your shoulders and prickle in your spine that lets you know that while you're not looking for a fight, you'll invent one, finish it, and likely carry it on a bit longer.

I did at least keep busy, attempt to meet basic needs, letting sheer exhaustion make sleeping possible. Again, knowing myself, sleep is usually impossible without cool air, curling up on my side, and a blanket with one foot sticking out, but exhaustion is the great equalizer. So I passed out in the heat, sprawled out on my back, no blankets.

In the meantime, I'd gone to a favorite mindless activity of mine: YouTube videos for themed video game glitches. Horrifying, funny, and just plain weird, there's something instant and visceral about placing yourself in a fantasy, immersing it as reality, then watching it defy logic. Sometimes, the pixel garbage gives me that horrifying twinge of wrongness that is hard to keep watching (that glitch in Skyrim where the assets don't load quite right when you walk through that wall in Windhelm) but some just fill me with a sense of wonder or scratch the surface with humor. Some are incorrectly named, being more exploitative or Easter egg by nature, but it's one of the reasons I love the Share feature of PS4. Though I don't actually share my own experiences on YouTube, I like having a personal library of glitches to trim and enjoy for myself.

I still wish that feature had been on the PS3 when I'd warped to Arkngtham ruins and turned to see Shadowmere had materialized over a tent where she was stuck bouncing upside down. Never been able to repeat that one or find any videos where it happened to someone else. Damn it... Though I hate to think of how many hours I might have wasted cackling over an upside down bouncing horse.

So while I wish I could do more creative work (as always the urge stronger for the difficulty of actually being able to), I'm at least keeping my brain and body plugging along. Luckily, my tablets are better equipped to handle this sort of weather, without adding to the heat. I can still type out some notes. Unfortunately, Google Docs on a tablet is glitchy as hell or I'd do some editing projects, but we've got a couple cool days coming up to squeeze that in. My AC unit was torn up when the tree outside of my window at the time had beaten it up, but my dad is installing a new one this week so it's not an issue that will put me off my game for long. As I've said, the window film makes a huge difference too.

In any case (preemptive pun intended), I purchased a sleeve case for my XP-Pen Artist12 display so I can keep it on my laptop table without these razor clawed cats damaging the screen.

I'm scattering a bit because I really want to watch more glitches... It's my visual crack when I need to take my mind to some interesting places. 

Catch ya later!

Mother's Day

It could have been a harder day. I've endured a few of these without my mother, that turbulent relationship, a woman who was the high-definition two-way mirror and an impassable brick wall nonetheless. The first was still too soon after losing her to feel the brunt of it. I'd lost my grandma two months before her and I stood in shock of being suddenly matronless.

Not that my grandmother or mother passing meant any privilege was passed. I came to terms with it long ago, that I was family only at arm's length. There would be no inheritance and no acceptance there. There would be no change in my life, for better or worse, but for the absence. My mother seemed to have known her time was short and she'd made our visits about confessions of her mistakes and guilt so I made peace with that closure. Yet death doesn't wipe the slate clean. It's not the growing gnawing of a grudge that is left, just the gaping maw of a toothless gear that clicks pathetically against nothing at all.

Yet today, I spent a few hours with my sister and nephews in an arcade/skating rink/play area and I found some joy and peace in the people I do have. It's only when I've been alone that I wince at why a day keeps hooking into me when days never meant so much before. Because, maybe, I might have reached for the phone unconsciously to make a requisite call to someone who is gone.

It still hurts, the decision to not be a mother. Yet, I don't think I could bring a child into this world, knowing they could inherit what makes me dig way too deep into voids I struggle to share. It doesn't matter that I could be a great mother. I did well for my nephews, somehow, but as proud as I am of who they are, it's also the most terrifying responsibility. I get a lot of credit for them, but I didn't do it alone and it gets no easier over time. It takes more than being a good mother or wanting to be to take on motherhood and, at the end of the day, the children I bear must come only from the womb of imagination.

It's a tough day, as I've said, but it could have been harder. I have much to be grateful for, skills I've climbed mountains for, people who pull me out of places that could swallow me, wisdom I've nearly drowned in to drink. I stand on the edge and breathe. I cannot fly but I stand firm and dare the wind to shake me. If I fall, may the dive be spectacular. Although it's in me to grow roots and bend as the wind blusters. That much, I had in common with my mother. To all who give life, improve life, and preserve life, Happy Mother's Day.

Tomorrow is another day and one to start anew.

Idle Days of Reflection

It's easy to assume that my days are pretty normal and uneventful. Despite the fact that removing more comfort zones from my everyday life has given me more recent material to color in my creative life. Friday, I wallowed in bed, rueing the natural cycle of womanhood and avoiding any emotional triggers that I know I'd naturally overreact to.

Yesterday, I worked a shift at King's Island. I laid low most of the day, putting together plates of chicken tenders and French fries, a shy smile when people thanked me. They said I could yell back when I was running low, but I always went back to them and politely asked them to make more. Towards the end of the night, some asshole decided to get a hair up his ass about the French fries. It went something like this: he said they were raw, I shrugged and honestly told him they were cooked the same way all night, he mumbled that I was a jerk, I felt myself smirk like I usually do when I'm irritated, this pissed him off enough to assert that he knows what a cooked French fry looked like, I bit back a mental remark on that not exactly being a skill no one else had but instead said I believed him, he mocked me--I shit you not, he actually did that little kid thing where you change your voice and poorly pronounce what the other person said--I looked at my sister, who told me to just stop talking to him, I took a deep breath to calm the adrenaline and went back to tell the chef to handle him, I went out back and smoked a cigarette until the guy left. Now, I could have put this story as separate sentences, but the whole situation was one idiotic run-on sentence. Guy tried to ruin my day, was really just an entitled redneck who didn't succeed. What assured it never got worse was that the chef very calmly told me that I don't have to deal with that at all and could defer to one of the regular employees. Even though the guy tried to say I refused to cater to him, these people I had only worked with a few hours knew that was bullshit and each of them even took the time to tell me they didn't believe him, that they saw I was very courteous, and he was just an asshole. He was yet another shithead that thinks himself better than a service worker because he's on the other side of the counter. And yes, while these people will pretend you're right, each and every one of them is talking about what a shitty human being you are when you leave.

I made some money to go towards my next creative purchase and went home glad to curl up in bed to watch Avengers Infinity War.

Because, yes, today I went and saw Avengers Endgame. Don't worry; no spoilers here. It's a long movie and not my favorite of the Marvel ones, but still has the Marvel Charm throughout. I still enjoyed the time I got to spend with my family and getting to see a movie in a theatre. It's a rare treat that I enjoy more because it's rare.

Still recovering from working yesterday, and I mean this in the purely physical sense. Nine hours on my feet, very little moving around, which only makes me appreciate my three hour waitressing shifts all the more. I don't like to sit or stand very long. I can handle lying down or walking, but since lying down has very little appealing job possibilities, I prefer the walking jobs. I can lie down while I crochet but obviously, the only posture good for writing or drawing for hours involves proper sitting with regular small breaks--if you don't want to end up crippled over time, that is. If carpal tunnel, eye strain, back problems and strain injuries are your cup of tea (if you're just young enough to arrogantly assert that you work in the dark, hunched over, for three days straight and survive off of energy drinks and ramen--enjoy your future health problems, by the way), then by all means, keep telling yourself that bad work habits don't pile up. In fact, lamenting the abuse when you're older will also make you less shitty of a writer so there's still a trade-off.

Don't worry, young'uns, I'm not hating on you--just relating exactly the sort of disgruntled shit older people warned me about and were annoyingly right about. But we all learn the hard way because it's one of those stupid human tricks that we lather, rinse, repeat until we're either wise or one of those sad old dipshits that refuses growth or wearing clothes that actually fit.

I never set out with a point here, but idle days need idle tasks. In this case, a bit of reflection is well enough to feel like an accomplishment. I like this phase of my life. In retrospect, each of them is worthwhile, but in the spirit of living in the moment, this one feels like it fits me best. I pick my battles better. I put my head and heart in better places. My struggles aren't overwhelming me because I give enough of myself that people do know how to help me. I do have some things I'm working out, but I can't imagine a day so ideal that it wouldn't paralyze me in shock. I will always need a challenge to keep me in motion. It's just with hope that I aim to keep them manageable.

Because there is no universal force that only gives us what we can handle. Sometimes we have to pick the right time to fight or flee and forgive ourselves when the response we chose was probably not the best one. What wasn't our best is just a lesson. Although, I might add, that you don't get to forgive yourself the pain you cause others. If you're an asshole, apologize. Whether it's five minutes or five years after the fact, whether they deserve it or not, you don't get to gloat on your failures and absolve yourself. It just makes you likely to repeat the same dumb mistakes because you never properly humbled yourself to the consequences. 

And for fuck's sake, stop posting that shit on social media. Some people leave a trail of their shitty toilet paper crumbs in public spaces and wonder why no one respects them. That. Seriously, if you treat public spaces like a job interview and save the asinine garbage for the angry tear-stained pages of your little handwritten diary with the lock that doesn't actually keep people out, the world would be a better place.

Or keep a blog. So that only the really dedicated will open an outside link to see what you're spewing. Am I ever glad that social media skipped my teenage years so there is little evidence of the dumb shit in my teenaged past. There was at least some time to form the good habit of putting some space between my reactions and what I ended up sharing.

Clean Bill of Health (Mostly)

Even though I blogged about it more thoroughly on my health themed blog, I feel like it's a message that all people, especially my sometimes reclusive and reluctant creative friends, need to hear: find a way to invest in annual wellness checks.

I don't spit out advice without offering a personal touch so let's start there. I recently had blood tests done to see if there was any hidden metabolic issues or something lacking. As it turned out, I came back with a vitamin D insufficiency but otherwise a pretty impressive range of normals otherwise. While I'm relieved that nothing major has been factoring in to pain and fatigue it did feel silly to have overlooked vitamin insufficiency on my journey to finding diet and exercise that works for me.

So here's the nitty-gritty. Over 40% of Americans are Vitamin D deficient. You've probably heard of it called the sunshine vitamin because that's the most readily available way to get a dose of it--UVB rays soaking into your skin. To properly absorb it, you must expose a lot of skin, not just your face and arms. This also means that people with sun sensitivity are not likely getting any adequate absorption. Sunscreen can negate the absorption as well. However, sunlight isn't all that healthy in many areas of the world so you run the risk of skin cancer.

As for diet, it's not that plentiful in most American diets, especially since you're not always consuming properly labeled fish. Cod liver oil, salmon and tuna are your best sources, but egg yolk does have about %7 of your daily value. Not so fast with the eggs or fish though; fish is one of the least inspected food sources and eating more than one or two eggs a day runs the risk of skyrocketing your cholesterol levels. And the yolk is the part you get the vitamin D from.

So how much should you ingest? My doctor recommended 500-1000 IU a day. However, I take a multivitamin that contains 1000 IU and it still led to insufficiency. Multiple verified medical sources actually suggest between 1000-4000 IU to boost an insufficiency, so I take an additional 2000 IU through supplementing, knowing I could be getting additional IU from walking outside and my occasional fishy meals. It's not uncommon for a doctor to prescribe a booster for more dangerous insufficiencies, up to 15,000 IU, over the course of a couple months. While Vitamin D overdoses are super rare and take a long time to show symptoms, deficiencies will eventually lead to kidney and liver damage so there's plenty of room to supplement without worrying about overdoing it when underdoing it is more dangerous.

Wanna hear something more shocking? It's not my pasty white friends that are most affected. 70-80% of Hispanic or Black Americans are deficient. Just like you've probably heard the lie that darker people don't burn or get skin cancer, it's similarly false that they absorb sunlight better than their fairer skinned neighbors. If you haven't had blood work that tests for this, get to a doctor and find out!

Another common deficiency that I've started supplementing with my multivitamin is magnesium. Since it boosts sleep quality, energy and the absorption of vitamin D, it's another one that couldn't hurt to add. You do have to be careful about dosing of many vitamins (depending on whether they are water or fat soluble) so don't just pile on a ton carelessly. Vitamin C and B12 are among those that tend to have a ridiculously high threshold that's hard to overdo, but do the research AND consult with a doctor to decide what might be best for you.

Oh, and back to D--sufficiency plays a huge role in not just kidney and liver function, but also energy and pain levels as well as immunity from illness. I've given you quite a bit to conduct your own research on but, again, talk to a doctor. There are times when even my extensive research countered the actual facts. Some information is widely spread and believed, to the chagrin of medical professionals.

Apart from this, I'm happy to say I'm all caught up with vaccines as well. One thing that does irk me is the anti-vaxxer movement. I do believe that if you exercise the right to refuse, then you are a public health risk and should similarly isolate yourself. Because there are so many with auto-immune disorders who can't be vaccinated, certain allergies, or are just too young to be vaccinated, it is a civil responsibility not to spread preventable disease if you are physically able. If your religion or batshit crazy research insists you sit out, then kindly sit all the way out of society.  No, I'm not going to cite the thousands and thousands of articles you can sift through to understand. Yes, if a booster is more risky, doctors are happy to dose your vaccination singly over many visits. No matter how enlightened you think you are, the anti-vaxxer bullshit started with Jenny McCarthy unearthing a bullshit and revoked study done by an aging man desperate for a famed discovery. I've seen plenty whack jobs posting their copy-pasta citation circus and they often lead to conspiracy or facelifted sites that look almost exactly like legitimate ones, but are one letter off or unsecured.

My stance aside, find a way to get tested for basic health. In my adult life, prior to the ACA, I was only ever eligible for any kind of insurance for less than a year. The ACA and hopefully an eventual path to universal health care for ALL Americans made it possible for someone like me to get adequate care. Deteriorating health, especially at a young age, could be devastating to anyone who doesn't have privileges lined up. It's frustrating to work hard in non-standard flex jobs that never make affording insurance possible. There are many people who face levels of poverty I can't even imagine. I may have no assets or investments, but my family has made it possible for me to work for what I need to follow my dream. Maybe someday I'll be able to afford my own bills.

In the meantime, I'm grateful that some politicians see how essential healthcare is. I'm truly sympathetic that some people fortunate enough to have steady jobs have yet to be provided with free healthcare. As much as I envy the middle class, I'm not smug that lower-middle and poverty class citizens are provided for. Do understand that it's not stellar. One dental check-up a year and only extractions and fillings are covered. Only certain drugs are covered and essential services as well. It's still a coverage that ensures they aren't suffering but it's below adequate for prevention and wholly inadequate for more serious illnesses.

Why is it worth it? Well, it wholly eliminates any excuse not to work, barring discovery of a crippling disability. It makes taxpayer money actually work for the people, not just the salaries of those claiming to be doing so. Even if you don't think health is a right, at least concede that making it a privilege only creates laziness and excuses under the guise that it can't be afforded. Eliminating insurers power to prioritize people's health or pharmaceutical companies to gouge on lifesaving medicine... Do I really need to go on?

Health is everything. It's your moods, mental clarity and ability to function. Don't fuck around with that.

Get You Some D

Calm down; I'm talking vitamins here!

I mean, now that I know, it seems silly and frustrating that no one thought to test me for a Vitamin D insufficiency years ago when I first started showing symptoms of fatigue, muscle pain and nausea. It's more worrisome that pages and pages of diet and self-care sites never really thought to address it either.

Seems obvious now. I'm photosensitive, meaning more than 10 minutes of direct sunlight gives me uncomfortable blistery rashes and pink skin. You can get vitamin D from two sources naturally: sunlight and fatty fish. While I love seafood, it's an expensive diet where I live. I ate quite a bit of salmon and tuna, likely why I'm insufficient rather than deficient, but I've also taken a women's multivitamin for years.

For western diets, that's often still not enough. So I did the next best thing and supplemented D3, an addition that is only a week in.

Here are the details: we should be getting between 1000-4000 IU of vitamin D daily. My multivitamin has 1000 and each tablet of my supplement provides another 1000. Right now, I am taking two, about 3000 IU daily, allowing me to get some from diet and sun as well. It takes about 2-4 weeks of supplementing for energy levels to be impacted.

Because energy is one of my primary issues, I did more research. While a B-Complex is on the top of the list, a multivitamin usually sufficiently covers that. Instead, I decided to supplement another common deficiency that could be contributing to sleep and anxiety issues: magnesium.

It may take a while for this to help me raise my energy levels, to improve my health and moods enough to make an impact on diet, exercise and creative pursuits, but it does wake me up to how insufficient weight loss pages are in addressing just what your multivitamin is doing and factors that may need more attention than a catch-all vitamin can remedy.

And precisely why blood work and consulting with a doctor are a good start. My insurance was garbage for a long time, so it wasn't something I was simply stubborn or blasé about. Also why I can't emphasize enough why universal healthcare is such a huge factor in a productive country. Rather than griping about how people who 'don't work for it' can receive basic healthcare, gripe about why anyone has to pay for it, why the exorbitant taxes we pay are being dumped into shit our country doesn't need rather than the betterment of all. I don't like to fixate on political crap, but our politicians get paid a rather handsome sum to provide such mediocre use of what we trust them with.

Health is all. Bar none. Don't scratch your head, wondering why nothing seems to take. Test your metabolism, possible allergies, vitamin levels. It's almost embarrassing how simple the problem may be. While I can't say for certain this will vastly change the wear and tear over the years, I at least have hope that it may be what has held me back time and again. It may be that I can work more, both doing what I love and making money to afford to do so. 

Ultimately, I want those to be one and the same. That it isn't doesn't defeat me. Things take time and I don't twiddle my thumbs in wait. Do what can be done in wait of what can't yet be done.

Fussing The Way Back to Comfort

It took about 4-5 attempts to rearrange furniture after the fish tank fiasco, but today, I feel pretty content with where things are. Mostly it involved moving a dresser, end table and some craft organizers and in a way that kept my curious cats from making a mess of any new arrangement. They're pretty proficient in asshole architecture so it didn't take long for them to show me the flaws and adjust accordingly.

The drawing display is supposedly coming sometime today. I already ditched the Wacom drivers to avoid any interference with the new drivers for XP-Pen. My cat is contentedly hogging the more accommodating space I made in the window, looking out at the rainy day. I'm vibrating with restless energy and jumping up every time I hear what could be a delivery van.

I have a half-made dragon scarf awaiting the rainbow yarn I ordered to finish it. Along with an assortment of 12mm doll eyes for unpainted doll heads that will become painted doll heads at some point. There are also a few open Scrivener files on my computer: UnHeard, the short stories branching from my current two published series, and another literary fiction project I titled Shared Silence. There are no lack of things to do, but after moving furniture, I'm content to scroll through Netflix and Hulu and enjoy some rest.

Tomorrow I may take the kids to the park or something. They've been cooped up playing video games all spring break, but between me working most of the week, my sister's reparative finger surgery and Dad working too, none of us could get out to do much else either. If not for the rain today and yesterday, I would have taken them to the park so I'm hoping for a sunny day tomorrow.

Death, of any significance in my life, always leaves these awkward gaps. The routines, once so seamless and unconsciously a part of me, are now muddled spotlights where I stand immobile, numb and scrambling for something to fill it. It's not a physical space where certain shapes or convenient liquids end up making it right. It's not a landfill of mismatched things either. Some people make the lovely comparison of the Japanese art of using gold to repair cracks, which is a great mental exercise in healing but isn't a fix either.

I've read that death changes you entirely, that you will never be the same and, in truth, you don't want to be. Would we really have never known that life at all rather than be transformed by the pain of loss? Rather, I don't want pain to be paralytic. I want some sort of closure that keeps me moving. I had a sort of paralytic pain when my dog died but the deaths started to pile on and survival meant I couldn't keep wallowing as I did that time. Even though it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, I forced myself to both feel and keep moving. When my friend Fermín passed, I finished school and focused on crochet. When my mom passed, I focused on my health goals and kept writing the books I talked about with her. I lived my life and kept my promises to those people, even though they wouldn't be there to hold me accountable.

We must be accountable to ourselves as if we are keeping promises that will be weighed. Because they will be. You will have to face the guilt, shame, disappointment in yourself for failing your own expectations too. You will also have to decide that grief plans made you overly ambitious at times and forgive whatever overachieving plans you couldn't accomplish. Grief can leave you in total darkness or shine a vicious spotlight on you. It's rarely a grey area so you need plans for that violently rocking ship you might be struggling with.

I find comfort in that struggle. I see it as a place to test my strengths and weaknesses, to learn about the new person I will be. It's nothing to fear. A full life often means many drastic changes in the journey to find yourself. Find comfort where you can, but leave comfort to reach for more fulfilling risks.

Goal Met!

Order placed, I'm now awaiting my XP Pen 22E digital pro drawing display! It's not scheduled to arrive until mid to late next week but I plan on doing a review of it once I've had some time to set it up and give it a go.

The remnants of the fatal fish fiasco are cleaned up. I've moved my furniture around to start anew. Still some tidying to do but after four taxing days on my feet, I'm going to get some decent rest in before I tackle more housework. My sister got us pizza for dinner so it saved me the work of cooking too. Another beautiful day to keep my spirits up too.

My cats probably want you to know that they are not happy with the changes. Moved furniture is more change than they like but they'll get over it. They also probably wanted me to give them the fish. I draw a lot of lines with them and that's one I've repeatedly told them would never happen. Family doesn't eat family, no matter how delicious.

My Terrific and Terrible Day.

After five hours of sleep, I woke to the sound of my fish tank filter running too loudly and it set off an alarm in my head. After five and a half years of raising my cichlids, I knew what every sound meant. This one meant the water was much lower than when I went to sleep. 

I shot up out of bed and grabbed for the draping below the stand, immediately feeling the wetness, hearing the drip in the buckets below.

The tank was leaking.

After hitting my light switch, I searched the sides and top to see they were dry,  placing buckets under the drips. Because I'm not a total dipshit, I didn't look under the tank. If there was a crack, the glass could burst into my head. Instead, I switched the overhead light of the tank on and pushed aside the gravel to look for cracks. None. So the problem was the middle seal.

I tried to keep the fish in the tank for as long as I could, taking out the rocks and decorations. Around 8 AM, I had to remove the fish into the biggest bucket I had and monitor the temperature. The fish store didn't open until noon and I would be at work, covering for my sister who is recovering from one of many surgeries that saved her finger after a cottonmouth bite. She agreed to check on them and call the fish store.

They were dead before it even opened.

Cichlids, as I've learned over the years, can easily die from shock and stress. Even for a few short hours, they couldn't handle the departure of their tank. I was able to save the algae eater and I gave him to Aquatics and Exotics. He'll have a great life with them or wherever home he goes to.

I'm upset, of course, but after six hours of bailing 55 gallons of water down a flight of stairs one two-gallon bucket at a time, I had to go to work.

It was busy and nonstop but I was more confident. One man stopped me to show me a picture of his adorable grandson and tell me the story of how he was able to get a signed basketball for the boy, who loves basketball. I wasn't aware of how an apron makes some people open up to you like an old friend, but I better understand why they say it's a job that feeds writers. People sometimes see you running ragged and use their grace as a customer to give you an excuse to take a break. Now, the shitheads also use this to hold you hostage but I haven't dealt with anyone that bad yet.

After work put me to the grindstone, I stepped outside to a beautiful sunny day. I laughed and talked with my cousin and aunt, knowing I had music to face at home. I took the bucket of dead fish and emptied them behind the shed, gave them back to the earth. It seemed a more glorious end than a garbage bag in the trash or a trip down the toilet. I cleaned out the filter and scooped the gravel into buckets. A friend of my sister is taking the tank and stand. The rest of it I'm giving to friends. Selling off that which remains seemed too cheap so I only asked them to pay what they would or could. 

I also received about $65 in gift cards doing surveys over the past few months. I met my goal for getting that digital display drawing tablet. So among hard work, heartache and the people who bring joy into my life, what could have been a terrible day was still a victory.

I've loved and lost and still received. I've given of myself and it wasn't one-sided. 

I'll miss my fish. That will hit harder when I'm not so numbingly tired. Pinkie was my six year old fatty and I know I did all I could for them. I knew the hobby was getting too expensive for me and I would have liked to re-home them. Life has other ideas. Death has a few more.

I'm glad I work tomorrow because I truly need to keep moving through the sadness. Those fish got me through tough times. I didn't know I was ready to say goodbye to them until I had no choice. They gave me so much as a writer and an artist.

My fish mama days are over. I won't be getting fish again unless I have more room, more equipment, more preparation. It's a lot of work, a lot of stress when they're unwell, a lot of money. I adored them but I won't take on that kind of responsibility without being prepared for everything. 

It's why I never wanted children. I love them and they love me, but my body, mind and resources mean that I would not subject a life to being an accident. I stepped up for my nephews and became a parent and it only made me more sure that you can't love or reproduce or step up to be a parent half-heartedly. Life deserves better. 

I won't beat myself up about my fish. I know I did all I could with what I had in that moment. I don't play woulda coulda shoulda. I was great at caring for them. It wasn't enough. It's time to move on without them.

Blobert, Blobbera, and Waitressing

Let's start off by introducing the title characters, Blobert and Blobbera:

Yup, these six inch high models are a new addition to my drawing repertoire. While I love apps like Magic Poser and Easy Poser, it takes quite a while to maneuver 3D figures and there are always some awkward bend deform issues. While a physical model like these comes with its own issues, it's much quicker and easier to manipulate. 

When you first get these guys, you'll absolutely want to pop them apart and fiddle with the assembly. If you're adventurous, you may want to take an X-Acto knife to a few places. The male's neck is a bit thick at the back which limits the tilt there. The female's head tends to pop off easier since it's not ball socketed like the male. However, any part that isn't sitting right can benefit from a little putty or, my standby favorite, silicone earplugs. They're wonderfully built but make them yours, if you pick some up. I love how little real estate they take up as opposed to the larger drawing mannequins. I have Barbie sized ball-jointed dolls, built much the same way, if I need something bigger but I think these little guys will get more mileage.

As for waitressing, it does get better. While I haven't yet run into any raging assholes, it's also possible my natural temperament prevents that. I am straightforward but apologetic when I get something wrong. I easily take blame when it's my fault and quite honest about it. When people get irritated, I don't send it back. I simply nod and tell them how I will fix it. My family is more forthright so they tell me they will step in if anyone gives me shit. Which isn't terribly likely to happen, but it's always good to know they have my back.

In a typical day, we spend about 30 minutes prepping prior to a shift. People all tend to flood in around the same hour or two, but the rush typically doesn't exceed two hours. There are some people that linger beyond closing time so we pretty much work around them to close up and finish up pretty quickly once they leave. This little restaurant only serves breakfast and lunch, closing at two. I bust my ass for around three hours and it pays decent. If everyone was a fair tipper, it would be better, but we'll get a mix of cheapskates and big tippers that sometimes balance it out. 

I love that I rarely stand still. Sedentary jobs are the worst. I love it as an artist because I stretch out on the end of my foam bedding, wear pajamas, and break when I need to. However, getting dressed up in uncomfortable business casual, sitting in a cubicle and twiddling my thumbs would drive my restless soul up a wall. It's constant thinking on my feet and I sweat like a marathon runner but it does wear me out enough that good sleep is the reward after.

So my blog is a mixed bag of nuttiness but I'm okay with that. I'm working towards an important goal so it's important to build my bases too. 

Also, shhh, but I bought my younger nephew a lightbox drawing tablet for himself. It's not going to be as high tech as mine, but it will work great as a tracing aid that can turn his efforts into a digital file. For him, drawing is a hobby. If he decides to get serious about it, I'll help him upgrade but there's never a sense in dropping big bucks early into anything. Work your way up and you get a sense of doing things both manually and then really appreciate the newer perks as you go. I support my nephews in anything they want to try and they can try more when we're thrifty--at least until we know how far they actually want to take it.

Now about that sleep... I'm ready for it.

The Hustle

I've said it before and I'll say it again: you can probably do way more than your brain will give you credit for. With fibromyalgia came years of not being able to tell the difference between real pain and overactive nerves. With low energy and depression, your body and brain tell you you're not going to make it out of bed. With a racing brain, there is too much to do and not enough time so... you often end up doing nothing at al rather than poking at any of the options.

I've been there: good days and bad. Whether I'm right or I'm wrong, I try to journal these days for myself, to see what I thought I could do, what I actually did and whether I even tried to prove that wrong. Because, rather than shifting the blame, I needed to own my successes and failures. I even needed to look at my overachieving times and give myself permission to take a damn break before I burnt-out.

And I never thought I'd be worth a shit as a waitress. It's a lot to do at once and people can get downright nasty and entitled. But wait. I've done this before in service and retail. Some people will insist you go back to the shelves to get things they can get themselves. Or insist something is broken when they just didn't use it properly. Or they're having a bad day and looking for a scapegoat. While I don't take shit from people who get personal, I also know how to bow out gracefully and make someone else handle things when I've reached my limit. (Which often means I pick up for them once I've collected myself and tackle the floor again.) With waitressing, I watch my section (they seat themselves), bring menus and utensils, get their drink order, get their meal order, drop their ticket at the kitchen, serve food, punch up their ticket, see if they need refills, bus tables, rinse, repeat. It sounds pretty simple, but since a full section has everyone at different stages, I have to read people. Everyone has a tell that says they're waiting for something and if they've waited too long, you see their restlessness. I'm not always a good reader of people but hungry and impatient people telegraph pretty strongly. When it's not busy, I don't have to wait for the cues, but when my section is full, crowds tend to make people transparent. Like those Diner Dash kind of games, they very nearly have those little colorful emoticons above their heads with where they're at.

It was a good first day. I doubt they'll all go so well, but I do have my new girl card for the time being. That has a little mileage with some people. Juggling is not something I'm unfamiliar with. Not the actual juggling. I'm still shit at that. But when it comes to tasks, even when I'm scrambled or confused, I'm not afraid to just stand still for a few seconds and untangle the knots. Some people tie themselves up and never quite recover.

Speaking of juggling though, I'm looking at going back to school for software engineering. Even though I'm not in love with coding, I've always had a knack for it. I hate math but I'm good at it. im betting that even if you don't know it, you're probably really good at things you don't like or haven't tried because you think you won't. I'm not worried about wasting time, which is probably why I take risks that gobble up time. I'm on borrowed time, just like everyone else, but I'm passionate about learning. Even the things I don't like. If I'm repulsed, I'll find ways to do it less or not at all, but if I'm good at it, then I'm willing to encounter problems I don't like when the overall reward is that I'm not exhausting myself. Because doing what I love isn't always the best use of my time either. If crochet or writing or art was financially enough, I'd gladly do nothing else. Yet, realistically, I know that I need to fund each of those things with money they're not bringing in, so the side hustles are about building my kingdom.

Any day, the kingdom can fall. Losing a lot of people and pets I loved in so few years gave me a pretty sound idea of how precious time is. Even if I were given six months to live, I don't see myself adjusting my life as it is. My life is not about investing in forever. I don't make bucket lists because I know that death doesn't mean my conscious soul is clinging to regret. Now, I know I'm going into personal belief territory, but I don't believe that I carry over when my body is done. As a science minded person, I'm certainly open to the possibility that whatever energy animates us is recycled, but the memories and personalities, those are attached to that lump of goo called a brain and the body that makes me me. I don't see karma or souls or ghosts as plausible. I see humans as creatures with very active brains and not a lot of concrete answers. I see that our egos often create concepts of mortality when it's far more likely there is nothing beyond this life. When I sleep, it is the death of who I am. When I don't dream or think or function, I am essentially dead. Does it matter where I go? Can I be afraid that I'll never go back? The only thing I truly fear are concepts like torture and painful precursors to death because until my body gives up, I will experience hell.

Ahem. I don't mean to be morbid, but I live the best life I can because I don't expect another. I am good to others because of the happiness it brings me, more so than fearing any consequences. My morals and stances exist as they do, sometimes against my wishes. I wish I could be less self -sacrificing and more selfish, but the kind of selfish that hurts others pains me more, so even when I'm selfish, I'm mindful. It's because I believe there is nothing else beyond this life that I cherish it, that I do my best to let others live their best life too. I don't care if you're a whore or a prude, a sinner or a saint--as long as you own the consequences and don't purposely do harm, refusing to grow and learn, I am pretty damn tolerant of choices. No one owes it to me to display shame or guilt because of their mistakes because often, especially in today's world, the hurt is just well-bottled and they could very well be wracked with it later.

Most people don't plan their hustle by leaving a trail of destruction behind them. However, often we do have to hurt people we love and care about because they don't see our potential. I spent many years taking advice that was bad for me. I stopped listening to anything that felt wrong and began to take the unconventional paths. I've enjoyed far more personal success through self-belief.

I may not be rich or famous or even find comfort or independence. However, a little discomfort is motivational. A little dependence teaches us to work smartly with others rather than work harder by insisting all struggles must be carried alone.

Like Alanis Morissette sang, what if you won the lottery and died the next day? Sure, it's tragic, but will it matter? Live for today, but hope for tomorrow. If tomorrow never comes, it is what it is. If it does, don't make it about cleaning up yesterday. 

Are people who found a single career luckier? I'm not so sure of that. I believe that the way my life is is also the life best suited for me. I became who I am after surviving my own struggle. This day was brought to me by making it through every one before it. I may not have any part of the American Dream, but I do not regret that I have found my own ways. I'm chasing my dreams. I'm not worried about how it measures up to what people believe it should be. I don't think there's an age limit on humor or love or education or capability. Only I can define that.

And, hell, sometimes I'm not even that good at defining it. However, I am always open to being wrong. Being right never taught me anything.

My Favorite F-Word

Not that one; friends!

I got to go to a Coheed and Cambria concert last night. It's been over a decade since I've been to a concert and I've never heard their music before. However, my friend Joe is one of those people who has a really good (or at least aligned with my own) tastes in music so I let myself go to be surprised and really enjoyed 'discovering' them this way. 

Before that, another dear friend confided in me over a really stressful issue she didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone else. Even though there's little in my power I can do, I did offer those things in my power (listening or any action she decided to take that needs a crew). It always feels good to be that trusted person and more so when I can get them out of a situation when they decide to take a big step.

Today, my friend Erika posted pictures of my paperback copies of my latest series, which was even more icing on the cake. It always feels amazing to have your friends brag on you, especially since I don't have those 'participation award' sort of friends that don't act like you shit gold with every step.

I used to be the sort that would commiserate with others over the only two friends they actually have, but that would be a self-effacing lie that discredits the wonderful people I'm grateful to have in my life. Even if I only see some of these people twice a year or haven't met them off of the internet at all, there are simply people in my life that I could consider best friends, loyal friends I share meaningful conversations with, that can't be ranked less than friends. There's simply none of the restrained politeness that you'd assign to acquaintances.

Every once in a while, I can ascribe general positivity to some of my limitations and I can't deny that my friendships rarely stay in the small talk category for long. Both I and them know pretty quickly whether we click or not and we dive right into the meat of each other's lives. There are always areas where we clash but rather than fan those flames, we gladly pass those places up and connect on more common ground. If I am down-to-earth or kind or intelligent, it's easily because I keep those closest who let me be that person without shame. If they seem I am flustered or start to stammer, they don't point it out or agitate it, knowing it will pass on its own. I'll laugh, slow down my speech or stop then catch up and all is good.

It's not that the world around me has to take the lead from me. I know it's just as much self-discipline that teaches me to accommodate others and some will not play nice. Walking away from hostility works too. However, for those most patient, I am also able to be a great friend to them. Even as a retail worker, I tended to reward kinder people with better recommendations, sale items, and personalized information, simply for letting me be helpful. You don't have to exhaust yourself with a false face to navigate the world, just be open enough to let people be themselves. Don't take it personally when a stranger treats you like garbage. It's never personal because they don't know you--it's harder for a lot of people to be honest with those they are closest to so they sometimes see strangers as the better choice to take that out on. In most cases, you find a place between firm and kind. Don't let them step on you but also don't let them make you defensive. Often, I see hostility melt into apology and exhaustion rather than continue. When they're too ruffled to stop, there's the walk away.

And yes, even with customers. In fact, I often go straight to a manager on duty, explain that I walked away and ask them to handle it then I'd excuse myself to the bathroom to calm down. At that point, I'm usually so close to a panic attack that I can hear my heart hammering in my ears but I never ask to the restroom. If I ever have the sort of manager that tried to discipline me for that, it's a job I will walk away from. However, even my worse bosses have not gone to that length. It's no longer than a usual bathroom break and I come back a blank slate, ready to go.

You can't be afraid that the world will punish you for taking the initiative. Knowing how to be a productive worker is nothing you need permission for so don't ask for it. Handle it and show you know what you're doing. There's no benefit to bottling as if they own the air your breathe and over medicating to suppress valid human reactions. People who latch onto how badly you need the job will use that against you sometimes. Give them your best, the best YOU know how, and you might be surprised by how your situation could improve.

There will always be parts of your life you shouldn't take to work, things you'll contain in the moment.

But that's what friends are for, right? 

Shut. Up. Already.

No, not you; my brain needed some public shaming to process my overall frustration. My muscles ache down to my very fingertips and this blob of grey matter is full speed ahead insisting on some really amazing story ideas. Not the ideas that will push my current projects past their hurdles, noooo. New. Better, even, it insists, although we've had this argument before and supposedly we agreed that comparisons, for better or worse, are creative death.

Look, I know this brain is the very same singular one I own and not actually a separate entity, but there's such a thing as duality (and more) in a single house and sometimes it's a whole damn deck of cards. It takes one over-excited toddler thought screaming '52 pickup!' to send the whole deck flying. So, however you describe it, this is one brain warring with me on what use my body can actually be to my aspirations. Even when I surrender to prove I am physically incapable, it will wait all of a minute before sending a 'how about now?'

Logic and impulse might as well be two ever-present entities. Because ultimately I know they're both pricks, too blunt to be trusted to control my mouth, I let them do battle in the cranium. They knock against my teeth and make my eyes g fuzzy, but more often than not, if impulse doesn't tumble out prematurely, logic will prevail through sheer stamina. Impulse likes naps and ice cream far more than fighting with logic.

Logic, on the other hand, is on vacation when I'm not feeling well. So here I be, tapping away at a tablet to humor impulse until it scurries off for naps. Logic makes a story work. Yes. I wholly agree. But you need not a lot of anything to entertain rough ideas.

Are my notes coherent? Only by the grace of autocorrect could that be possible. I'm not even sure I'm hitting the keys that make words. I'm reading every sentence three times just to make sure they're not abusing the English language too unforgivably.

What I'd really like to do is write in earnest. However, logic sent a postcard and informs me it'll be back once I get my shit together. 

Psh. Logic, you're an abused lover that thinks it can't do better. We both know I'll never get my shit together.

Do Not Disturb Until Spring

So the book editing is done and I even platinumed Dragon Quest XI... in lieu of the arrival of Kingdom Hearts 3 today. Yet another game that I had to have on release... with no plans to actually play it right away.

Even with this game here, I still have to devote time to work. My gaming friends with a 9-5 are always stressing that they spend every possible moment on a game they're excited about, but... that's exactly how it turns up for me too. Only my discipline has to be self-imposed for the weeks leading up to my book release and that may mean spending more than full-time hours putting it together before I get to 'clock out' and play.

Remember when you were a kid and had to stop playing video games to go to school and you thought being an adult meant playing 'whenever you wanted'? Even for a freelancer, it doesn't quite work that naively. I don't work for x amount of hours for x amount of money. Often, I even work xx amounts of hours for 0 amount of money, but it doesn't mean the discipline can be looser or 'whenever I want'. I actually have to take those times where I am most productive and jump into work then. If I tried to predict the hours something would take and cram those all in before the deadline... well, chances are I would under-predict the time about threefold and do most of it sloppy, rushed and stressed. No, working 'whenever I want' is usually not when I want to work. When I'm wide awake and energetic and happy, the last thing I want to do is sit at a computer and yell at how stupid technology is until I get it to work how I want it to.

By the way, I'm that bitch that likes to email companies about how they can improve their interface. Although I'm rather diplomatic since I can sympathize with overworked developers often not having the luxury of sleep or normal working hours.

So, even though I would love to binge on KH3, I have some book covers to tweak, print and ebook formats to arrange, conversions to test, and then I can hit that Publish button and take one of those fake-cations to finish the game.

Very likely I won't have the discipline to just relax and play a game and will pick up the draft for my third book to take over my life again.

Work and play offset each other. I need balanced doses of both contribution and consumption or it drives me fucking mental. I laugh when people pull a 'must be nice' with me. Nice? People don't know the half of it. The trick to survive being the tortured artist is to paste on that retail-smile and keep it up.

I'm a fish in a bucket trying to stand out in a sea with really fucking amazing fish. I'm not doing this for As in class or in a contest handing out participation trophies. If I want to make this work, I also have to keep in mind that it may never work. The main source of misery in this world is people who create guarantees out of a life with no actual guarantees. There is no miraculous safety blanket keeping the big bad world from you. There is no guarantee your rise in a company makes you indispensable, your company will thrive or your dream job won't sometimes be your worst nightmare.

One thing that's almost always worked for me is taking a social media diet. When I notice my feeds getting too negative, I disappear for a few days. Even if you're not an empath, that shit can get to anyone. lol Hell, I see a ton of people who just get bent out of shape just watching the news. I can see that too, since I never watch it but it was on in the dentist's office earlier this month and I was in tears before the tooth torture even started.

Which I feel like I should say they did a spectacular job and I'm over-exaggerating. It was no day in the park, but my dentist and his assistants were great and attentive and were amazing at reading my stoic little twitches when something was hurting. It still sucked and was terrifying to hear my teeth cracking, the temporary facial paralysis... you know, that stuff. But I knew what to expect going in and it wasn't extra or surprising.

Anyways, I'm out. Sleeping tonight, no school for the boys tomorrow with this polar vortex windchill coming through, so I get to sleep in and get to... the whatever. The list. The one I keep randomly throwing out there because I keep blogging when I'm forgetful and tired.

Jobs Suck, But We Like Money

My cousin's mom, Lisa, repeated this sentiment last weekend as we were getting off of our shift at King's Island's Winter Fest.

It couldn't be more true. It's why I could never quite trick myself into believing things would get better, that getting to know the same people year after year, people that constantly want to talk about hating their jobs-- I wasn't about that life. So I'd taken a lot of jobs I was overqualified for, just to avoid sticking to some stagnant, joyless existence. It sucked too, never making money to reflect my experience, corporations putting citizens in a position where they are underpaid for their skills, under the guise that they are new and have to always work their way up. Let's face it, after a probationary period, salaries need to be no less than living wage. But capitalism... I'm not saying all of its concepts are bad, but corporations get away with too much shit and it's keeping our economy from recovering. It's keeping struggling adults struggling.

UpShift is a godsend for a dreamer like me. I get the impression that I weird people out a bit. I don't try to talk to anyone, but I'm polite when spoken to. I don't make a lot of eye contact, I stumble on simple words, but I work hard. While, yes, I'm overqualified, I do get to make the wages I'm qualified for even if the job is anything but suitable to my skills. My pain levels have been higher and resting doesn't make me feel rested, but I can work as much as I want then just as easily take as much downtime as I need. I can fill it with writing and drawing and dreaming of a life where my skills are exactly what people want.

It's a wonderful service that gives me hope again. It doesn't tell me I need to follow society's darling model to be worthwhile. I can save for what I need to bring attention to my creative pursuits. I can take vacations when I damn well want. I can work on my writing when I'm on vacation (hello, writer's retreat). 

Baby boomers don't really get it. They think they have to worry about me. Too little, too late, since their excess put my generation here. But no. I found a way to finish college and I found a job service tailored to my life goals. Sure, I'm hopelessly in debt because we still have a long way to go to compete with the happiest countries on Earth (the ones that might tax the hell out of you but make sure that money means never paying for medical care or education)... But I make do. Sometimes I even take a bullet to catch a criminal, which means I took on more debt than I could handle to expose a broken system.

Lol one time, I even purposely made a bogus purchase, just so I could have my bank investigate what I suspected were phishers. I got the money back and they got shut down. Okay, I actually did that a few times, but I knew my bank protected my money and I would get it back. Going through safer channels like police reports usually never gets investigated before phishers can hit thousands of people. You'd be surprised how fast banks can expedite this.

So I'm clearly no stranger to risks. They may not be the smartest, but that's the point of risks--that they may make you look stupid. You still have to believe that some good will come out of them-- a lesson or a blessing, as the saying goes, but acting with integrity and an openness to accepting the consequences is as important as the risk itself. It didn't matter that I might put my own security at risk sometimes. I had a hard life from a young age and that taught me that security is as much as illusion as anything.

Our work is never done. We have this perception of coasting on a victory, but I know that the hustle is for life. Most of my generation doesn't even get to consider retirement so we are pioneers of a life no one can really advise us on. We worry more about our health because it's a very real possibility we'll die of some stupidly preventable disease. Not to mention, our bodies, if they reach old age, will still need to be viable for work.

So, yes, my generation needs dreams. Our Great Depression might be laughed at but our reality is that we can't afford to let people tell us how to live. We have to be the arbiters of our own fortune and luck because the odds are against us. To stay viable and optimistic, we have to be willing to shut out the noise and find our own paths. And maybe somewhere down the line a future generations can dig us out. I hope my nephews' get to live a much better life.

Although, what is 'better'? I don't consider my life a failure. I don't suck at life. I wasn't dealt the best hand, but I have amazing friends and family that came from those struggles. I have people in my life that enhance my optimism and I have these abundant inner reserves that don't let me give up. I am able to be a wonderful role model and deliver my perspective with the power of comfort in solitude yet an ability to adapt and contribute in team situations. I'm comfortable with letting people teach me and generous when it's in my power to teach.

What I feel is better may be a life that doesn't challenge them enough. I want them to know what it's like to be graceful when you need others but empowered to handle being needed. We all want a world where there aren't gates put up that future generations are locked out of, where they at least have the opportunity to climb and overcome. Yet that generation, they will probably be better equipped to handle what left us bewildered.

Jobs will suck, but we'll keep being pioneers of our own destiny.

It Could Be Worse

Sometimes I do delve into the lower sides of emotions and states of mind like bitterness, distrust, and so on, but at the same time, I feel like I should make this clear: in most areas of my life, I am actually pretty content now.

Healthier than I've been in a decade. Amazing friends and supportive family. Published author and diligent artist. Finding work when I need it and able to be resourceful enough to acquire what I need (without selling my body or soul).

All in all, what bothers me at any given time is little more than a past that tends to rise like bile and sometimes people tend to pick at some annoying scabs (as only people who have known you for years can do well).

As a writer, I channel those things to my advantage. When the wounds were fresh, I wrote about those things privately and ended up burning or shredding them. That writing was never about crafting a coherent masterpiece. It was what it took to turn internal screams into therapeutic dialogue. I would not be able to write about them with any success if they were fresh. I don't find raw wounds to be more honest. I find them to be messy and sometimes just childish rambling. In my favorite books, it wasn't the rawness of fresh wounds that made me admire the work; it was always the careful presence of the years they took to understand it after. In truth, even though our bodies and minds are eager to forget raw pain, we can actually conjure up those raw wounds more potently when we look, not just at the actions, but the motives, the aftermath and the way it changed us. We are better able to see it like a doctor might see a wound; rather than panicking with the emotion, we train ourselves to really look at the wound and what it takes to heal it.

So when I seem particularly morose or depressed, sometimes it really has little to do with how things are going. Sometimes it's even the aftermath of a rather potent tapping into a deeply painful writing session. In order to write powerful scenes sometimes I have to get uncomfortably deep while staying afloat. Emotions are messy so getting too deep can be detrimental to the writing. Yet the pull is irresistible so it takes immense mental fortitude to keep drawing the boundaries.

Oh, but you WANT to get deep. Blood on the paper and all! I'll have to disagree. Once more, what comes from spiraling into a mental breakdown or letting a character's pain drag me down, that shit is not even that usable or even great when I read it again. It paralyzes me sometimes, which isn't at all useful to my work. What is useful is how I can recall it fully yet know my place as the writer. To get pulled in deep enough to look at it clinically. To see everything that my characters are blind to. Because even if I'm writing for their perspective, my POV is often ultimately omniscient and I need to not just lock myself into one character's drama alone.

The closest I came to being in one of my series was the presence of a being only called She. It was a feminine presence that watched, but had no form, and couldn't interact with the world. In a sense, I was using her to create the sense of what a higher power would be that couldn't affect free will nor had anything to do with the creation of the world. Although unlike She, I was still more omnipotent in duty to the story and didn't favor her in particular. I really just used her to anchor in the theme of the unknown.

The UnQuadrilogy uses some similar themes, but I do use them to tackle once-painful topics. Doubt, faith, religion, belief, imbalance, the unknown sometimes remaining that way, but not outside of logic all the same.

Wherever I am as a person and a writer? It could be worse. I count myself as damn lucky that I am doing what makes me happy. That I'm not hurting those I love and as few other people as possible. That I get to pursue writing while surviving being an unfortunate generation that got slammed by a bad economy. I was also a teenager in the 90s with some of the best music of all time. I also grew up both in the technological boom and still played outside and rode bikes all the time. Everything is not perfect, but I am satisfied with how I handle life.

As a creative, you'll take a lot of hard blows. Yet, from one creative to another, it's really all about letting things roll off your shoulders as much as possible. Don't neg other writers/creatives. Don't be discouraged because your first book doesn't mean instant fame. Don't use your identity as a crutch or an excuse to give up. The best thing you can do for yourself is take the blows and be thankful when you can say it could be worse.

But don't belittle the pain either. You are allowed to see it as important or even necessary. Just don't ever let it hold you back.

Five Days of Not Writing

Although this is one of my favorite times of the year to hunker down and get to writing, today marks five days of not doing that. No editing either.

I'm not worried.

It's also the time of year I up and decided to do some weekend work at the local theme park and crochet a bunch of last minute gifts. My head is in writing still, but the priorities temporarily shifted.

I enjoy doing concessions. I don't do any of the business end, just help with food prep, cleaning and gofering. It's a pretty nice gig that pays very well and the people are a joy to work with. This will also help me promote myself as a writer and work towards better equipment and getting a booth for ComicCon.

Just like online college set up an opportunity to focus better on my skills, this job service lets me shop for great jobs that fit my personality and lifestyle. It's a job model that should be available everywhere, frankly. It's like Uber for job seekers and both employers and employees can find ideal situations and meaningful connections this way.

Back to the crochet, but I'll be inspiring a whole surge of writing through these experiences so all for the better!

Focusing When You Can't Pay Attention

As someone who has always dealt with central nervous system mishaps, it always makes me crack up laughing when someone says they couldn't possibly accomplish as much as I do for lack of focus, inability to pay attention, however they phrase it. I'm high-functioning at best-- whether you throw a name at it or not, the symptom of 'lack of focus' is still a daily reality. I've gone over both my health challenges and creativity 'unblocking' techniques, even how I focus, but perhaps too safely-- ultimately I've neglected to honestly depict the tug of war that occurs behind the scenes. Although I'm flattered that I look to be so hardworking and productive, the reality is that it's only because I work in solitude that I can manage some semblance of focus and also have the ability to have emotional meltdowns without risking embarrassment or causing a scene.

Some people use meds to handle a more public life. If it didn't have a choice, I probably would too. I'm going to go ahead and assume you're already taking care of those individual needs since I'm no doctor and I can't possibly address all of those here even if I researched it. If you're minding your diet, getting at least two and a half hours of quality exercise a week, taking meds for your conditions, then you're already further ahead than I was when I had to build up to my current superpowers. I suppose I can't just assume it's common knowledge, but your creative health is dependent on your physical and mental health. You can't have one without the others.

The rest? It's largely about creating more healthy habits, these pertaining specifically to your goals.

1) Eliminate distractions.

Some of the things you've sworn are inspiration are purely distraction. That music that fills you with the valor of a Valkyrie. That favorite show that's given you great ideas for what you're working on. I do often work with my TV on, but it's also not the latest episode of a show I'm actively watching or even something particularly interesting. Usually low volume creates a pleasant white noise, but I keep the remote in reach to Mute as soon as I realize my ears are pulling towards it too much.

'White noise' is actually better creative therapy for some-- I personally love the sound of my fish tank filter running, a fan blowing, and the clock ticking on the wall. For some, the clock is way too indicative of passing time, too marked, so this isn't one I'd say is universal. I'm aware that some people can study to heavy metal/thrash music as well, but I'm sound-sensitive. Even my own choice of music is something I can only enjoy at certain volume levels depending on mood.

It's perfectly fine to get distracted, but if you often find that it's not producing anything outside of procrastination and feelings, then you need to note the risk and either substitute it with something more meaningful to your goals or just get rid of it. I like to work in relative silence most of the time. I do keep playlists of music without English words or any language at all but those are mostly something I enjoy on breaks rather than ever use while writing.

2) If you can't eliminate, turn it into inspiration.

Many of the sounds and sights in life are unavoidable but they don't have to terminate creative processes. I've raised my nephews so I know kids can be a big weight on how efficient you can work. It's VERY difficult to get into a flow state when kids seem to both have the worst timing and a need for attention, no matter how independent they are. There were definitely stages where creativity had to come in stolen moments until they were older. It was an odd mix of depressing and educating. I learned to become both patient and opportunistic.

Get your 'distractions' involved, however you can. Even if you're not writing kids' books, there are universal ideas and even fresh quirks that kids can offer your stories. If your neighbors are assholes, then maybe loud music is something you adapt to in order to drown out that annoyance. No matter what distractions must be dealt with, part of the creative process often extends beyond the work itself and is tested in how you handle life. You don't have to be 'normal' to work around what challenges you. Facing fears and doubts is how we drown them out. I'm never going to be comfortable in crowds but I do it anyway because, seriously, fuck all the things that stop you from what you really want in life. My ability to take risks is directly related to the very specific goal of why I'm doing it.

3) Admiration can be your key to turning passive planning into action.

When you tell friends, like me, that you admire me and wish you could do it, I'll almost instantly reply with 'you can.' Okay, maybe you can't have my exact level of talent nor reap the rewards of that hard work, but you already have something you can build from but you probably haven't actually tested it. I can 'do it' so it's not something only the neurotypical get to enjoy. Given, I could easily do so much more without it that I'd give it up in a heartbeat. It's not supreme focus that got me here. It's not pure passion that keeps me going. It's not even goals. I trained myself over time to change damaging impulses into productivity.

In the same way you can instantly turn the urge to party into calling up your friends to see who wants to go, you can start phoning up your mental desires. By all means, admire away, but don't just stay wistful over what you wish for. Seriously ask what it would take to do it. If it's not a hobby, start there. If it is, what would it take to take the next step? Pull out a notebook and crack open the web browser on your computer and start taking those advice lists and cherry picking what appeals. When your approach fails, there are tons more to pick next. As it turns out, some of those undesirable options from previous searches might turn into the one you love. I hated vector drawing when I first tried it. Now, it's one of my favorite ways to draw when my wrists act up.

A lot of people are overwhelmed by the idea of mastery. Mastery isn't about focus, at least not entirely. It's more often about flexibility. When the best tools aren't available, do you know how to work another way? What people most often admire is results. To get results, you often have to trudge through a lot of unconventional fixes to power through. The most flawless results are the product of great effort. People often admire what they aren't doing, but they'll develop an even greater admiration and appreciation when they actually try it for themselves. Being a mentor or involved in someone else's process is magical, but don't put your own efforts on the back burner too often.

4) Don't fixate on schedules.

You know I'm not fond of 'don't's but this is a big one, especially when you're first starting out. If you're not gifted with laser focus the minute you sit down, you might find it immediately frustrating when your mind goes blank. Go ahead and unfocus your eyes. If your brain just hums, well, I count that as blessing. At one time, I might have panicked when my brain did that, but it's also an intuitive form of meditation. Don't force thoughts into the space just because you decide it's time. Inaction is not an immediate sign of failure. If that's the part that doesn't sit right, remember Jack Torrence's carelessly typed 'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy' in The Shining. If you need to get your fingers going, do it that way. Another idea-- don't have a clock in view or even in reach (my own ticking clock is not in immediate view). If you like to use alarms to time breaks or other priorities, keep it out of reach. Getting up to get it is a marker of putting your work down. Most computers have a customization option for turning off the onboard clock too. Even if you want to try a schedule method, there's no reason you should let time bully you into thinking you're taking up precious chunks of it. Trust me; once you get going, those brain fogs are going to be easily forgotten.

5) Stop when you want to keep writing.

You're going to need to take breaks or address unavoidable distractions at times. Keep a notepad or a note app handy at all times so you can jot down what you want to tackle when moving ahead, but keep in mind that lack of focus can happen even when the getting is good; more so when you've neatly wrapped up a big idea. Engaging focus can be largely solved by just wanting to continue badly enough. Do as many of the things you've discovered to be helpful in the past as often as you can.

But you can't put it down when it gets good! Yes, that's a discipline too. No one actually wants to, but I've found that even the most vivid ideas only get better when you can't get to them right away. However, don't let desire come in the way of taking care of yourself. If you keep putting that creative place first, your mental and physical well-being will degrade. Yes, mentally too. Because physical stress and mental health are directly related, not taking those breaks, not minding your body's need will bite you on the ass. Your metabolism can take blows that are difficult if not impossible to fix easily. I once crocheted so often that I developed a condition called trigger thumb. Because I thought I could handle marathon creative sessions, I ended up unable to use that hand for six weeks.

Carpal tunnel syndrome used to be a painful re-occurrence, but after wrist braces, corrective habits and mindful use to avoid agitating it, I can mostly forget it's there (on occasion, I agitate it by playing on a tablet too long, but if you've ever been hit by a carpal tunnel flare-up, there's no mistaking it and you immediately quit what caused it).

Don't wait until you have to stop. Don't always think that pushing it makes it better. I've read that there are actually only about 3-5 hours a day in which we are optimally productive (less prone to mistakes and on point). There's not a 'go' light on when it starts and being high-energy isn't an indication. High-energy can be restless energy so it's more likely to be a zen state you're looking for. Even then, if you can quit prior to a climactic point, the chances are higher you'll hit the ground running when you come back. Even if you've only written or worked an hour before you reach it. It's worth the risk to feel this one out.

6) Don't focus.

(Again, with the 'don't'...) Counterproductive? Maybe. What's the point? Getting to it. If in the middle of creative flow, you would rather jump ship to draw the cool animal you just thought of or you've thought of what would be amazing in some other story you're not working on, embrace it. I've come to firmly believe that discipline is not restricted to the one thing you tell yourself you should be doing (something I bring up over and over, I know). Restless moments sometimes require restless solutions. I have a yoga ball that I enjoy using as a desk chair on occasion. Useless for drawing, but I type rather well while bouncing. As far as drawing goes, I never see mistakes until I walk away from it several thousand times. Sometimes I see the big picture, sometimes I'm overly fixated on the weirdest details. The creative brain is meant to benefit from that volatility. Remember that you will have an editing phase. Editing has become my holy city. However, if you don't feel that way...

7) Do puzzles.

One of the way I've learned to organize my brain is to take advantage of visual puzzles. Jigsaw, brain teasers, word games, stacking-- doesn't matter which one, but these are all repetitive disciplines that you never solve the same way twice. Wasting a good half hour on puzzles is a phenomenal way to fake focus. This does tend to work better for women, but my grandfather is a huge fan of crosswords and my dad likes quiz shows. In order to trigger intellectual structure, the visual engagement is damn near a failsafe. Some writers do image searches to create inspirational collages, but even the most abstract sorting can stimulate a solid bout of focus.

I once had a college prep course that focused on what kind of 'learner' you are. While it's been flagged as a pseudo-science since (much like the Jungian based Myers-Briggs typing), some people often insist they are more auditory, visual, haptic, etc. I'm not big on listening so I can tell you that's not a strong suit, but most people respond splendidly to a mix of hands-on and visual, which is why puzzles are so useful. Even if your hand-eye coordination is abysmal, puzzle games tend to sharpen it due to muscle memory being linked to specific tasks.

Puzzles don't immediately demand a skill level and also ease you into a sense of accomplishment. Even when you absolutely can't solve it, you tend to mull over that problem. Learning the answer is something you rarely forget either. I can tell you the words I lost with in grade-school spelling bees-- if only because I was determined never to misspell them again. (Ulcer and whetstone, for the record-- not really common use words prior to middle school, but aggravatingly simple in retrospect.)

8) Be a tourist.

You could travel in earnest here, but this is more a nod to touching base with something more important than focus: being unsure in an unfamiliar place. It's a very stressful experience but one infused with excitement and possibility. When you think of the things you'd rather do but are repeatedly not doing them until you remember it randomly at three AM... It's time to travel. Think of those excited tourists not paying attention while snapping tons of pictures with the attention span of a squirrel. Let it be an exciting state of being. I realize this very much lines up with turning distractions into inspiration, but think of this as the next half step. Don't make this sentiment about focusing on work at all, simply gathering the experiences that make it irresistible to talk about it later.

I come across this time and again, but can't stress it enough. Productivity includes wandering. If you haven't heard Tolkien's famous quote 'Not all who wander are lost.' Even if you are technically lost, perception is more important. I wandered away from home when I was 3 years old. To panicked adults, I was lost, but I remember it differently.

I felt transient twinges of fear, wonder, curiosity, a sense of independence quite striking for a 3 year old. I still remember clutching the book (titled Snow) and my favorite My Little Pony in a patchwork sundress and puffing up as I passed Scary Tree. When I walked past it with Mommy before, I cringed and hid behind her leg, but this time all I had was my word-shield and trusty steed. Somehow, it made all the difference that day.

Find some moment of childhood curiosity. Use it to help you unlearn what productivity is. At some point, the things that formed you, that fed your imagination, were idle things. As a creative, you sometimes have to tour idly through your spaces, feel around in the dark before you turn it into a moment you can share. Creatives don't really have vacations. What might appear inactive is something we have to let people criticize for lack of understanding. Enjoy your secret smiles, sudden laughter and resting bitch face while you slip in and out of those thought processes you'll use later.

9) Do everything else.

You knew we were heading here; admit it. There is nothing more irresistible than doing something else intentionally when you actually can focus. Krista, seriously; I'm focusing and NOW you're telling me to play hard to get? Yup. Sometimes you know when you can take this risk, so go for it. On occasion, this perfectly envisioned scene only goes to nth levels beyond that when you dangle the carrot. I saved this one for last because this is something I'd save for master levels of discipline. It might take a really great day, a higher than usual energy level (again, energy isn't a sole indicator), but even a half hour of circling the prey can lead to a spectacular kill in your ability to focus. Deprivation is along the lines of absence making the heart grow fonder. Just don't push that muse too far. Another risk you must be aware of is that absence also creates the opportunity the other pieces may abandon you.

It's a process needing great care. How long can you fast before you trigger starvation? You don't truly know you've gone too far sometimes until the penalty hits. Whether you neglect focus or demand it too much, creating the balance is NOT about creating the ideals. People are groomed in modern times to fear things outside of their control and for people like me, it makes you very sick to try.

Control is an illusion. If you haven't seen the movie Instinct with Sir Anthony Hopkins and Cuba Gooding Jr., do this now. There are situations where control isn't possible and ramming your head into the wall doesn't make the wall crumble. You do have SOME control and it is over how you handle and respond to things, how you react to stimuli. Before I learned to balance diet, exercise, negativity, I was hypersensitive in none of the good ways. It's not control that made me better, but flexibility. I didn't restrict my diet, enforce exercise and sleep, etc. I based even that on its availability and probability.

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As a good friend of mine said, self-publishing is the way of the future. It's one way creatives are deciding for themselves how their work is most beneficial. Traditional may be experienced for a market, but self-publishing inspires those who work differently, shows that their methods might actually be more beneficial to the work itself. We learn to become entrepreneurs and can prioritize which aspects to handle ourselves or who to give jobs to. Like any option, it can and will be abused, but we are also giving readers more freedom to choose the content they want to see, free from the bullying of literary selection. Our focus is limited only by our choices.

That's scary too, for many people. That because these are our choices, we have only ourselves to blame. Personally, that's a huge breath of fresh air for me. In almost every instance where I was quick to blame someone else, I denied myself a valuable lesson in how I could have handled it differently. When some aspect of my work is not its best, people address me directly and it is something I can improve on. I don't just guiltily sit on my hands and say I have no clue/power to fix it or learn from it.

My blog posts can often be unfocused, but natural thought is hardly a neat and pretty process. Lists are about as close as you can get to reining yourself into the subjects at hand. Nothing wrong with not having some profound point. In most stories, we all latch onto very different aspects. I've read things that have rocked my foundation apart while others reading the same thing were unmoved. That's also a point on the subject of focus. Finding the focus of your story is not a linear path. You're not playing by the same rules of any other job and you don't need to satisfy the requirements of anyone observing you. Sometimes your ally in your fight for focus is embracing your inner squirrel.

It's stolen moments. And a lot of forgotten acorns that spawn many a forest.