The Moon Brings Out The Loons

2015-08-022015-08-02 Miss Poison Honesty, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Chronic Pain, Honesty, Migraines, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

“Sometimes the most powerful person in the room is filled with senseless doubt.” -Lisa M. Marino

Normally I don’t comment on the lunacy of the Full Moon, but this Blue Moon? Good Lord, it’s brought out the crazy!

There are very few people in the past two weeks who have not lost their mind and said something ridiculous beyond words to me, outright started a fight, or got uppity with me. It’s quite interesting how obsessed, self-absorbed, and repressed some people are. It’s even more interesting to me when anyone comes at me with newborn kitten claws and expects me not to have fangs. Cat and kitten are smarter than 99% of the people I know. That’s not my opinion, it’s a proven fact based on the behavioral patterns of the past two weeks.

I live by some very simple rules when it pertains to certain things.

#1- I do not apologize unless I am 100% in the wrong and truly sorry about it. I’m not going to apologize because someone misunderstood me when I was clear and concise and feels “hurt”. Take the whining somewhere else; compassion is not my strong suit. You cannot guilt me into an apology when I did nothing wrong. Victimizing yourself only irritates me.

#2- If you attack me like a child, I will sleep on it. I can be vicious and it is not beneath me to hit back hard, but some people simply aren’t worth the effort.

#3- Temper your words. It’s not always necessary to come out guns blazing. If someone brings a knife to a metaphorical gun fight though, all bets are off.

I, myself, have had a rough week. One bad day became three migraines and a horrible Fibro flare that sent me into a tailspin. And now? The remnants of Migraine #10. That is 10 full-blown migraines in five days. Chronic Migraine is classified as 15 or more headache days per month. I’ve had five days of multiple migraines, because apparently one isn’t enough.

Chronic Migraine is considered “chronic” if you experience 8 migraines in one month, but have 15 headache days that make it unbearable to function. What the hell does a person have to do to get some relief? Being told I “don’t actually have migraines” when I’ve had them since 1997 is an immense slap in the face. Perhaps one might like to explain the ice picks in my head and all the other lovely side effects of a migraine that have gotten worsen as I’ve gotten older. Clean MRI’s means it’s not my imagination, that it is indeed migraines.

I thought my very first migraine was the absolute worst. It went on for a week, it was probably the most horrific thing I had physically experienced up to that point, and that doesn’t even include the injuries I acquired in sports, so by my calculations, that means it was off-the-charts BAD.

I would never take migraine medication if I was merely experiencing the occasional headache. There is an immense difference between migraines, tension headaches, sinus headaches, and regular headaches. None of these things are “normal”, but I would never denounce someone else’s pain and dismiss it. When people tell others that “pain is weakness leaving the body” or other such anecdotes, I would like them to experience the suffering many of us experience daily for a few hours. They would come away singing a whole other tune, that much I’m sure of. No one who suffers from any form of chronic pain needs to be told there’s nothing wrong with them or that it’s “all in their head”. It’s disrespectful.

I hope everyone is having a healthy, positive, pain-free weekend. I’m simply taking things hourly. I can’t function on a grander scale at the moment.

Voice Mail

2015-07-302015-07-30 Miss Poison Humor, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Humor, Musings, Phone Calls, Poison In Lethal Doses, Voice Mail, Writing

I was checking voice mail messages a little while ago. I find it oddly disturbing that there is a message from 3:09 a.m. No, it was not a booty call. It was actually from my brother, which would make the whole “booty call” thing extremely bizarre, but I’ll leave that one for an episode of Maury. There was noise in the background and him saying “Oh, no problem.” to someone and then he says “Hello? Well, if you get this message can you call me back?” He could have been calling anyone, there was nothing definitive about who he might be talking to. There was no “Hey sis…” or anything normal. Granted, nine out of ten messages I leave for him sound parental and stern. They usually involve the words “Rude”, “Asshole”, “Un-fucking-believable!”, and/or “Call me back immediately!” That’s what happens when you ignore text messages, e-mails, and phone calls for 3-6 hours and were supposed to be here for dinner at 7:00. It could also just mean he’s being a moron.

Message #2 was from a health insurance company. I changed my phone number five months ago and yet, I am constantly getting calls for the family that had the number prior to me. I called my phone company within a few hours of having the number and said “I’m being flooded with calls and haven’t given my number to anyone yet, what the hell?!” I was not happy. Their response was “Give it a week and if it doesn’t stop, we will change the number for you for free.”

I have told this health insurance company no less than four times that “Eric” is not at this number because it is now MINE. They told me each time that they’d “reflect that in the system”, and yet I’ve received two calls in the past 24 hours, for “Eric”. I am determined to tell them to stop calling here the next time I catch them in the act. How often does a health insurance company obsessively try to track you down these days? They’re not calling for any Eric I know, and I can glean that from the last name they used.

That’s just my landline.

I’ve had my cell phone number for seven months. The new number came with the new phone my brother gifted me for Chanukah. Nine out of ten calls that come in are NOT for me.

At least three times a week I get a recorded call letting me know I have won A) a cruise, B) a free vacation, or C) Some material item. I think it was an iPad this week, it’s usually something along those lines. Less than eight seconds into each call, I delete the message.

I’ve “won a free honeymoon” twice. One was back in 2008. Not only am I not engaged, but I never entered any of these contests. One of my old wedding magazine subscriptions enrolled me in a contest I knew nothing about, so when a relationship ended and I “won a free honeymoon” a few months later, I was sorely tempted to grab my nearest male friend and say “Let’s go honey!” I didn’t because fraud is fraud, but I was tempted. Now the idea of going to certain places makes me nauseous. Curacao? Nope. Aruba? Hell no. The Bahamas. No, but by all means, send me a postcard.

The messages that most annoy me aren’t the ridiculous ones though, they’re the ones from friends and family that forget they’re A) Not talking to an answering machine and B) Act as though I have no idea who they are. They often start with “Hi sweetie, it’s so-and-so.” I.know.who.you.are. I promise. My brain is not addled. My Great-Aunt Alice used to call (very rarely) and would always say “Do you know who this is?” She did it when I was little, so to hear it when I was in my 20’s really wasn’t cute. Don’t think for a second I wasn’t tempted to A) Hang up on her or B) Tell her “No, who the hell is this?” I didn’t though because I was raised with manners. Factor in Caller ID and unless it says Unknown or is a number I truly don’t recognize, I know exactly who is calling. No need to be formal; leave a message, I’ll call you back.

A month or two before my Uncle passed away I called to see how he was doing. He answered and after saying “Hi Uncle Bobby, how are you?” he said “Who the hell is this?” Mind you, he had exactly ONE niece, so I didn’t feel the need to follow the hello up with a name to give him assistance, but when we got off the phone I sat and thought “At least when I call my Aunt, she doesn’t need to know who I am.” I once told someone in her office, upon leaving an emergency message, that “She only has one niece, I think she can keep track!” It didn’t sound snippy at the time, but hindsight is 20/20. Most people know my voice, so they don’t need to be told who it is. Plus, they can look at their Caller ID too, it’s not rocket science.

Do you get any weird phone calls or voice mail messages that amuse or annoy you?

Friday Musings

2015-07-242015-07-25 Miss Poison Editing, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Proofreading, Work, Writing Clients, Creativity, Editing, Exhaustion, Experience, Freelance Editors, Migraines, Proofreading, Read-Through, Time, Vision, Writers, Writing

Mondays bring forth a lot of stress and anxiety. Fridays? Not so much. In fact, I feel calm that the week has come to an official end. I’m looking forward to putting up a load of laundry, eating dinner, and eliminating an hour or two off my DVR.

I spent a huge portion of my week battling migraines. I was unsure if the cycle would continue, but I can say that after an exceptionally long day yesterday and going to bed early, I have mostly felt good today. Sore and achy, a little moody at times, but nothing I can’t handle. The downside of going through so much pain is that your body is pre-programmed to take the brunt of what it normally handles each day. It took me almost a full 12 hours to realize I wasn’t in agony. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing what tomorrow brings in terms of the physical side of things. 😦

I’ve struggled with some work-related things this week. I’ve had some personal breakthroughs with ideas for my work, I’ve made some career-related decisions for new creative outlets, but I am still being tormented by that manuscript. It requires so much time, it frustrates the hell out of me, so I’ve decided I will never edit for someone ever again without doing a read-through first. I refuse to price myself into a position that makes me feel used or abused.

I should be charging between $1000-$5000 per job, or more for additional development. I have tried to be incredibly fair to people, I even offer a payment plan, but the end result is that I am being unfair to myself, my time, my vision, and my skills.

When someone says “I’d like to pay you a penny per sentence and there are 10,000 sentences to go over.”, I shake my head. That’s a grave insult. Even worse, I bid on the job and didn’t get it. Yeah, that didn’t help my attitude one bit this week. Anyone that approaches with a disrespectful budget and the claim “It should only take an hour or so.” should Google the cost of minimum wage for an experienced freelance editor. I have exactly one client who I work for on an hourly basis and he thinks my hourly rate is “really reasonable”. Others are fearful of the hourly rate and even more fearful of the quote. I have an answer to that: Don’t write 100,000+ words and expect for it to be edited in a professional manner in a week for “$50 or less”. Be fair, be realistic, and don’t be disrespectful if you truly want to do business with someone.

What else occurred this week? Injury from cat’s back claws. I have absolutely NO idea why she’d think climbing over my scalp was a good idea. I tried to detach her from ripping me apart and she wouldn’t budge, so I have a long tear on the right side of my scalp under my hair down the side of my temple. The facial part isn’t even noticeable because she dug deeper into my scalp, which, thanks to my new hair color, isn’t visible. It hurt for a few days, but should be healed completely in about a week.

Yes, I said “new hair color”. When I get bored, I get dangerous. Last month I cut off a ton of hair. It was way more than I’d anticipated, far shorter than what I walked in asking for. I am still adjusting to having to put product into my hair as opposed to using Argan Oil and being able to work with my natural texture or straighten it. “Short Hair Don’t Care”? Bullshit. Shorter hair requires some finesse in order to look good. I’ve been every natural color a person can be. Blonde, a wide array of varying degrees of red and brunette, but this is my first time truly on “the dark side”. It’s only a few days old, but it is truly blue-black. My stylist refused to do it for me because my skin is on the fairer side of fair. I asked if it was “too dark” or “too Goth” and she said “Too dark.” I think she was trying to be diplomatic. Guess what? It is dark, and it’s a little Goth, but it looks fucking awesome. Ultimately, the only person who has to like it is the person that has to live with it and look at it day in and day out. Every time I look in the mirror I think “Man, this looks AWESOME. It’s so much better than I thought it would be.” Let’s hear it for listening to your inner voice and not the odd judgment of others. Everyone else is going lighter for summer, I’m going darker. Typical. Now all I need are sharper fangs to get my point across. 😉

11169152_427727694065299_884216905442097396_n — Quote credit: Angelina Jolie. I agree with her.

Have a great weekend everyone!

It’s Okay

2015-07-202015-07-20 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Creativity, E-Mail, Friendships, Introverts, Life, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Technology, Writing

11698847_1049691071731005_126594818637112553_n — Just in case some people need a reminder about this.

For an incredibly communicative person, I don’t always want to talk. As a creative-type, I spend a lot of time inside my head. As a writer, it’s my job to state the facts, and when writing fiction, it’s my job to create a world that is relatable and draws you in. I feel blessed to be able to do those things, but sometimes, it feels really good to communicate with others in some tangible way.

As many people who suffer from a form of chronic pain, I have become accustomed to “my cage”. I’m good as long as I have my laptop, music (when I can tolerate sound), cat and kitten (’cause they’re soft and sweet…most of the time), movies, books/Kindle, and my DVR. Occasionally, throw some food at me. You might want to feed the writer regularly though, I’m told she tends to get “hangry”.

I caught myself over the last few days with both my landline phone and cell phone sitting next to each other while I was writing, as if I am just SO important that the calls in my life are non-stop. They aren’t. I’d get rid of the landline completely if it didn’t utterly freak me out to not have a phone at home when my cell is acting up, or in an emergency. I spend more time e-mailing and texting people than I do talking to them, though a lot depends on the other person and where they live.

I’ve received Skype messages on my phone from my brother when he was five minutes away, because apparently I need to watch him try on sunglasses and “approve” what looks good on him and what doesn’t. (Did you just roll your eyes? I sure did!) I receive goodnight Skype messages from my Goddaughter because she wants to make sure I’m not in pain. Alas, I cannot and will not lie to a four year old.

E-mail probably wasn’t created to replace letter writing, but it took over almost completely. I’m a little surprised when someone sends me something handwritten. A card when it isn’t a holiday or my birthday is downright celebratory. You should see how I act when packages arrive, because I know full well I didn’t order anything.

There are aspects of this highly digital age that annoy the crap out of me (You will read about it in another post.), and there are amazing breakthroughs in technology that people dreamed about being a possibility “in the future”, but that was 20 years ago, or longer, and most of them aren’t here to see their vision realized. My Grandfather would have been incredibly intrigued by a lot of this. I cannot picture him taking selfies though.

Ultimately, it’s okay to be an introvert and not feel a deep desire to be “amongst the people” every single day of your life. It’s okay to pick and choose your friends, who and what you devote your time to, and it’s even more okay to be yourself, without apologies.

Nothing and no one in life is perfect, but when you have the essentials, say a prayer each night for them. They’re worth more than you know.

Moody Musings

2015-06-262015-06-29 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Depression, Happiness, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Social Media, Things That Enrage Me, Thought-Provoking, Thoughts, Writing Anger, Cat/Kitten, Depression, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia Pain, Honesty, Life, Moods, Musings, Pain, Partial Paralysis, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Police, Stress, Writing

I’m in an ugly mood. I think I went to bed that way, to some extent, which only partially explains my nasty mood this morning. I (almost) never lock my cats out of my bedroom, but when they started their petition to shove me out of bed around 5:00, I silently got up, put grain free food in their bowls, and as they both moved to their respective bowls, I shut my door. About an hour and a half later the little one started screeching like the world was ending. I let her back in to abate the crying and then ended up locking her out because she was trying to claw her way through me. When I haven’t slept well, there is no amount of annoying behavior that will push me out of bed. I also don’t want to yell at them because they don’t understand it and it’s traumatic for them. I simply cannot bend, touch my toes, or turn my head/neck at the moment. It’s upsetting to be in this much pain and not be able to take care of basic things, including myself.

Injustice and abuse of power infuriate me. Alas, I don’t look good in orange, so going after a power-hungry cop, fresh out of the academy, who thinks his dick is as tall as he is, is probably NOT a good idea. With all the police issues in this country, I figure the asshole will eventually say the wrong thing to the wrong person. I have to believe there’s some kind of karmic justice at play here, and that I have to just take care of me and mine. However, factoring in that I cannot physically move and that I’m in excruciating pain, I feel like there’s some kind of evil joke at play here.

Several weeks ago, a church was firebombed in my area by someone who got early release after kidnapping two minors back in 2008. Tax dollars hard at work. <rolls eyes> Emergency responders were already in the area and able to handle the situation quickly, but $50,000 worth of damage was still done.

At the moment, there is a huge carnival going on at a different church. It usually lasts for about a week or two. Ever since it started, there have been break-ins ranging from small to large, even if people are already home and asleep. Whoever is doing it doesn’t give a shit if there are cars in the driveway, they’re still going to risk their lives for “stuff”. This is occurring not even two minutes from my neighborhood. It’s within walking distance. A woman walked into her house yesterday to find a man going through her things. She, in her infinite stupidity, asked who he was and what he was doing there! He hit her in the face and took off, but now it’s clear that it isn’t just one person. The various local police departments decided to let people know about all of this via social media. Every single person that responded said “I have dogs and guns, go for it.” I do not currently possess the strength to utilize a shotgun properly, so, God forbid, my only option would be something smaller. I highly recommend no one sneak up on me for a while.

Are naturally perky people drinking too much coffee, on a drug I’m not aware of, or are they born that chipper? Are they simply “bright side of everything” types? I truly don’t know because I cannot relate.

95% of the time I wake up like a sleeping dragon. Unless I am able to go back to sleep or take a nap, I’m pretty unpleasant in the mornings. For quite some time I was up at 4:00 a.m. every single day. I was in bed early each night, it worked out well for me. But now I cannot seem to fall asleep and stay asleep. Being woken every morning at 5:00 a.m. is tiresome, to say the least. You’d think they were being starved, but the opposite is true. They like routine, but they were also thundering up and down the stairs after midnight. Where do they get the energy?!

Studies claim that people who wear lots of grey and blue are depressed, and people who wear bold colors are happy. Don’t we all get depressed at times? Who the hell lives the absolute perfect, trouble-free life? Even Fortune 500 CEO’s have problems, but everything is covered up beneath the shiny veneer. FYI: I wear a lot of grey and blue because they’re two of my favorite colors. I hate red, but that’s not exactly a well-kept secret.

In simple terms, I feel moody as hell today. I’m pretty sure it’s a 50/50 toss-up between life and…life. I am trying to pull myself together to run errands and not commit any murders today. As an introverted extrovert, this means headphones are going to be my best friend today.

I hope everyone has a calm, pleasant weekend to look forward to. Keep cool, don’t get too much sun, and remember to reapply sunscreen every 80 minutes, even if it’s cloudy out and you haven’t been sweating. Sun damage and sunburn(s) are things no one wants to deal with.

Emerging From The Cave

2015-06-24 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Chronic Pain, Clients, Editing, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Graphic Design, Pain, Sleep, Work, Writing

I woke up from a dream this morning that could have doubled as the weirdest movie EVER. Or a book. In fact, I’ll be writing it down later since my dreams revert back to a clearer picture within a certain amount of time. Rule #1- Never share your writing ideas.

I’m exceptionally exhausted and in an extraordinary amount of pain. I was up late working for a client last night. I then referred her to a graphic designer, that way her product will look professional. If anyone is in need of a professional graphic designer for any number of things (banners, book covers, etc.), please let me know and I will put you in contact with her. She’s worked for Harper’s Bazaar and Disney and has been in business for 25 years. She knows her shit and can work with ANY budget. Plus, if I am going to pass business on to anyone, it’s going to be someone who I know needs the work.

All I really want is a nap. Unfortunately, I know full well that a “nap” will lead to me screwing up my sleep patterns. The storms that passed through my area last night knocked power out for a lot of people. As hideous as the sky looked, making me believe it would be an intense summer storm, there was merely some “scary to watch” lightning, a sprinkle of rain, and later on, a truly stunning sunset. If there was anything else, I missed it in between making dinner, decompressing for two hours, and then going back to work before bed (NOT a wise decision! The last thought I had was “Did she spell chili wrong on the product label!”). I’m running on fumes today, looking forward to the moment when it’s acceptable for me to simply fall into my bed.

My pain levels are off-the-charts insane. I am certain there’s a rod in my spine, that my right hip is disintegrating, and that my attitude matches how I feel. Being in pain 24/7, with no reprieve, is a challenge unto itself. If anyone would like to take it off my hands for a few weeks, I’d be happy to help you understand how real Fibromyalgia is. I am so sick of people saying that sufferers are “lazy” or “Doctors say it’s a fake disease.” I’ve got two words for that. Yes, those are the words.

I should be placed inside an insulated cave with running water, electricity, and WiFi. We’ll slap a label on me that says “Not fit for human consumption”, and I don’t mean that in a Hannibal-esque way at all.

Let Me Know When It’s My Turn

2015-06-202015-06-20 Miss Poison Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Honesty, Impatience, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing

It’s mildly interesting to me that the majority of people don’t care how much they bitch to others. They can complain about the same thing every single day for 8-12 hours, but God forbid you want to interject with a thought. Suddenly you’re “the enemy” who has interrupted the flow of kvetching. (Please refer to Yiddish phrases. Contact me ONLY if you do not understand its true meaning.)

In reality, you’re simply tired of hearing the whining. You’ve contemplated 60 different ways to kill a person using office supplies and/or electronic devices at your disposal. I always think it’s exceptionally safe that people cannot see me on the phone when I am listening to them drone on for hours about nonsensical shit that means nothing to me. I’m not completely heartless (I had it checked), but if the last 20 conversations centered around one topic and one topic alone, I have probably thought about how bad Q-tip damage to the ear really is. I’m a great listener, but I am not known for my patience or tolerance for bullshit. Simply put, I don’t have the head for it.

On occasion, I would like for someone to listen to me and truly hear what I have to say. So by all means, let me know when it’s my turn! In the meantime, I need a nap. 😦

Unfancy

2015-06-192015-06-19 Miss Poison Animals, Cats, Dogs, Emotions, Father's Day, Life, Musings, Writing Cats, Dogs, Life, Musings, Writing

There is no nice way to say “I feel like shit.” I thought about it and decided I wasn’t going to attempt to gloss it over. That’s like buying heavily scented cat litter with the idea in mind that roses will make it all better. Unfortunately, no matter what you do, shit is still shit. Be it a feeling or an odor. (Okay, that was graphic. I apologize.)

I realized a few hours ago that with Father’s Day approaching this Sunday, it’s probably not doing a whole hell of a lot for my mood. My father passed away almost eight years ago after battling various forms of cancer for fifteen years. I always knew he’d die young, I simply never knew that it would have such an impact on me.

Finding a dead bird in my yard the other day didn’t do much to curb this gnawing feeling. I contacted the local authorities and by the time they got back to me, the bird was gone. Was it stunned? I don’t think so. It’s not often I find a bird face down anywhere, leave alone my back yard. It made me really sad. It wasn’t breathing, so I’m certain it wasn’t a magical vampire bird that was simply taking a nap.

For the past couple of years I’ve had a regular cat visitor (a big, black cat that I tried to take in myself when he was just a kitten roaming my yard) and while he appears to be well cared for, he’s a menace when it comes to other animals. I’ve yelled at this cat a few times to stop chasing cats and kittens all over the neighborhood, but as I said, he’s a menace. When he’s not peeing on my trees or the fence, he’s usually chasing the few stray or outdoor cats he is able to find on his daily jaunts.

The bird thing bothers me for a number of reasons. One, I have neighbors that shoot bunnies in their yard because they think it’s an acceptable way of “ridding themselves of pests”. They’re looking for food, they don’t know you’re an animal-hating asshole. Two, my brother neglected to tell me that he found a dead squirrel about a week ago when he was spraying for weeds. When I inquired as to why he didn’t tell me as soon as he found it, he said “I didn’t think you needed to know.” I didn’t know I needed coddling. Had I known it was there, I would have called animal control to make sure it was safe to remove it. If I wouldn’t leave a person there, I certainly wouldn’t leave an animal out like that either!

When I did call animal control yesterday to ask if the cat could be trapped, neutered, and released the woman I spoke to actually told me this: Are you ready cat lovers/owners? “All cats are feral.” Excuse me, you crazy bitch?! “It’s the circle of life and all that. Dogs are the only domestic animals in this world.” No, they’re NOT. Besides, I didn’t say I had a tiger in my back yard, you nut job!

While I can easily say that nine times out of ten, it’s the owner and not the dog, I don’t meet a lot of civilized, well-socialized dogs. Some, but not every single one. Family dogs tend to be better and those that receive a boatload of love and attention aren’t OCD about jumping on me, biting, or being aggressive. If a dog can listen to basic training commands, it’s probably not going to come flying down the street in an attempt to jump me. A lot of rescue dogs are traumatized in some way from previous life experience and are in fight or flight mode upon meeting new people, especially if their owners haven’t sought out training or done the training themselves. Dogs require a lot of work, but they’re not the only domesticated animal on this planet.

I’ve had cats my entire life, none of them have ever been feral. For this chick to actually state that as if it’s fact is ignorant as hell. Yes, cats are predators. That’s an actual fact, but I see my almost two year old cat and how completely uninterested she is in “the great outdoors”. You can open a door and she’s not running out into the heat or cold. She sits at the glass doors to the patio and watches the birds, bunnies, squirrels, etc., but she’s more bothered by flying insects than anything else. You should see how she reacts to a bee. Yeah, real feral.

Kitten is still a baby, so everything requires a vocalization and a physical reaction to the presence of other animals. If she comes across something, she will swat at it, she’ll cover it with her paws, but she’s not “going in for the kill”. She’ll certainly let me know something does not belong here and that I need to come and assist her, but she’s not vicious about it. Using the world “feral” to describe every single cat is irresponsible. It’s the kind of idiotic comment one can expect from the inhumane society, who are far more interested in killing for their paychecks then they are in rescuing and adopting an animal out to a good home.

I called a no-kill shelter and explained the situation to them. They don’t have enough manpower to come out and get this cat, so they referred me to another organization that can trap him, get him fully vetted and screened for any potential health issues, and then decide if he can be properly socialized and adopted out to someone. He doesn’t have a collar or a tag, but he’s a purebred cat. I’ve seen him since he was just a few months old, rolling around in my back yard and meowing for attention, but utterly fearless in how he’d watch me for hours. He doesn’t deserve to be put to sleep for being outside utilizing his predatory instincts, but if he’s without a microchip to let the rescue know who he belongs to, then he deserves a good home. If he’s going to be an outdoor cat, it’s safer for him to live with someone who is okay with that and will watch out for him.

It’s highly possible he didn’t kill either animal. However, it’s the most likely conclusion based on previous behavior. I’d rather find out who he belongs to or get him into a situation where he can be in a good home, as opposed to the alternatives. I’d hate for him to get hurt for any reason and I’d hate for anyone with a pulse to harm him, so all I can do is hope that the no-kill rescue gets back to me and that we can set up a trap. It’s way too hot for animals to be outside anyway, and with the expectation of a brutally hot summer, I’d feel better knowing that he’s safe indoors somewhere.

End of bizarre “crazy cat lady” rant.

Have a wonderful start to the weekend everyone!

XO…L

Professional Headaches

2015-06-172015-06-17 Miss Poison Being Real, Editing, Editors, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Professional, Self-Care, Work, Writing Annoyance, Cancer, Editing, Fibromyalgia Pain, Frustration, Headaches, Health, Honesty, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Professionalism, Self-Care, Sitting, Work, Writers, Writing

I am not known for my patience. If you’re not a child or a “little” (“Hello littles!” That’s how I talk to animals.), my tolerance for you is probably slim to none. God help you if slim leaves town.

People’s expectations are unreasonable, especially when I am given work that requires hours and hours of face time. There are only so many hours in a day. You can only write “rewrite” and “revise” so many times in a day. You can only make so many corrections that are crucial to the development of a story, and point out major errors before you slowly start to lose your mind. And when you do, if you’re like me, you take a few days to breathe. Unless I’m on a tight deadline, I am going to include some self-care in the mix, or I’ll kill the clients and no one wants that…or do they?

You ignore the “Is it done yet?” questions that have about as much impact as on you as “Are we there yet?” You try not to say what you really think and feel. You wait a few days and then you respond as professionally as humanly possible, but how many times do you really need to say “Please, let me work. This is way more than what I signed on for.” to the same person? How many times do you have to repeat yourself about how they should have read their work in advance of sending it to you? Yet, perhaps it’s nerves, impatience, what have you, but it is fucking annoying to constantly be asked the same damn questions. I’m exceedingly mature, so when people far older than I are immature, it’s an immense turn off, be it personally or professionally.

If you give me something and ask me to read it, be prepared for an honest answer when you inevitably ask “Is it good?” I used to ask people if they wanted my opinion or the truth, and to be careful with their choice. I no longer ask because whether it’s one or the other in terms of delivery, it is still the unadulterated truth. Dunkin Donuts and I have not teamed up to sugar coat your day. Mmm, donuts…

Editors still have lives. I work hard, but when I need a break it is usually due to my health or personal responsibilities. I cannot be glued to my laptop 24/7 looking at the same material every single moment. One, it’s not healthy and two, it’s important to get up and move when you work at a computer all day. Sitting is the new cancer, at least according to the medical professionals I know. I don’t know about all of you, but it makes me uncomfortable hearing the two words used together, so it’s not uncommon for me to walk away and do a load of laundry, or cook, watch the birds and bunnies in the backyard for a while, or simply shut the computer down for a few hours and focus on other things. I’m human. Moreover, I’m a human-being who suffers from Fibromyalgia. The days I can sit at all are miraculous. My pain gets worse each day, so I’m not receptive to whining from others.

I can either do something right the first time or not do it at all. If you consistently annoy me, you can pretty much guarantee I will be unavailable for future projects. I’ve already done enough work for 20 paychecks, not one. It’s hard not to be frustrated knowing that.

For future reference, too many people think they’re writers. Puking ideas onto paper does not make you a writer. Cohesive storytelling is a gift. Having honest people in your life who encourage the good and let you know when something is awful is also important.

There are days I wish I was an unprofessional hack. 😦

For those of you that messaged me about cutting off so much of my hair: I am almost certain today that it’s too short and I hate it, but I am trying to give myself time to get used to it. In turn, I am off to play with the Topstyler and see if that makes a difference. If it doesn’t, I am changing the color to blue until it grows back. Right now I am pretty sure I look like my brother with hair. 😦

To Cut Or Not To Cut

2015-06-16 Miss Poison Editing, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Editing, Life, Musings, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing

In editing, I spend a lot of time “cutting out the crap”. Endless amounts of time are spent, weeding through words, cutting what does not mesh well, making everything cohesive in the end. Flow is important when it pertains to writing. In fact, it is crucial. A successful manuscript isn’t always about the first draft, but the finished product.

As an experienced editor, I know when to cut something in my own work. If that means deleting an entire chapter, five words, or only keeping key elements of the chapter and re-writing, then I do that. That which is best for the overall body of work is what I am going to do, even if it’s slightly upsetting/heartbreaking in the moment. I also keep a few files for paragraphs and/or chapters/characters that are well-written, but might work differently with something else or fit better in another spot. Sometimes, you don’t have to cut something entirely, and other times, you do. It’s trial and error.

I feel content with the amount of work I’ve done over the last few weeks. I still have the killer manuscript. My goal is to focus on the manuscript as much as humanly possible until it is completed. Should additional smaller jobs pop up, I will work on them because they’re immediate and don’t require as much face time as the manuscript needs, but ultimately I want to get this big one done.

Because I’ve worked my ass off, I am excited to say I cut something else entirely today. Rather than trekking into the city (New York people, I will never refer to any other place as “the city”.) to see my usual stylist, I went to my local stylist and chopped off more than half of my hair as a “reward” for working so hard and not having the time to do “me things” as often as I’d like. I wanted to do it last Friday, but she was off and I wasn’t able to make it there on Sunday which is the start of her work week. So, I went this afternoon. My hair was at my waist, it now sits above my shoulders with a mess of really cool layers in it. It’s going to take some time to get used to it, but it feels amazing. I cannot remember the last time my hair was so short that I couldn’t put it in a pony-tail, braid, a clip, or twist it into something cute. I suspect I’ll be using the TopStyler on a regular basis now that it’s so short. Beachy waves will look great with this cut. Bring on the salt spray!