Morning “Rituals” & Fibromyalgia

2015-10-242015-10-24 Miss Poison Fibromyalgia, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Fibromyalgia Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep Deprived, Writing

I’m sure most people have their morning “rituals”. For most people, it means waking up in search of coffee or tea. It involves the most basic of things until we know with certainty where we’re going (Work, school, the grocery store, etc.). I had a solid idea of how today would go, but instead of being asleep for a few additional hours, I am sitting here, nursing a vanilla yogurt, listening to The Script. (I do listen to them a lot, but it’s also the song that just came on.)

I HURT. I don’t know if I’m capable of lifting my arms over my head today. 😦 I’m weighing my options. Do I spend the weekend packing, doing laundry, and catching up on my DVR queue, thus leaving all my other plans aside for Monday (which means going to bed early tomorrow and getting my ass out the door at 10:00 a.m.), or do I suck it up?

When excruciating pain makes your decisions for you, it SUCKS. You simply do not know until the last-minute if you’ll make it out of the house. I really want to see a movie next weekend, but I am almost certain I won’t get to see it until Christmas Day, weather permitting. It’s the fourth time I would be missing opening weekend for this particular film, and it pisses me off. DVD’s are awesome for a movie lover such as myself, but watching something you really want to see in the movie theater is a nice 2-3 hour escape. You also save money in the long haul if the movie sucks and you choose not to purchase it on DVD or Blu-Ray. If I wake up feeling like crap on Christmas Day, there’s no way in hell I’m dragging ass to see it. Therein lies a multitude of problems because every single day of my life is like that. Full of pain, slow, sluggish, no one in their right mind would sign up for this.

If you woke up this morning and nothing hurt, be grateful. I’ve had migraines so bad that my hair hurt, and it’s only grown about an inch since I cut it over the summer. I might not have noticed if I hadn’t seen the drastic tonal difference between the blue-black color I’ve had these past few months and my roots during my Fall Color Change. It was almost the equivalent of a not-so-natural-blonde with black or brown roots, though not nearly as severe. I don’t know if I like the new color, but if I don’t, I can change it in 30 days. There are cancer patients shaving their heads, so I should be grateful to have what I do.

If you wake up and not a single joint or muscle protests, you are blessed. My body is often in a perpetual state of “Go back to bed, dumbass!” I’ve had naps more restful than most nights where I slept for 6-10 hours. I track my sleep to better help my new neurologist, so I see the dips in my sleep as a failure on my part. I tell myself I stayed up too late or that I got distracted by something/someone, etc.

When a woman says she’s “getting ready for bed”, you might see her three hours later. That is 100% me most of the time. I go through every room making sure things were done, garbage thrown away, everything in its place, etc. Last night it was a last-minute trip to the laundry room to make sure I’d put my towels in the dryer. I hadn’t, but I only remembered when I was in the bathroom washing my face. I paused mid-wash and thought “Did you ever go back into the laundry room?” This resulted in me drying my face, quickly moisturizing, and going downstairs to see that not only was the washer still full of my clean stuff, but I’d also left clean clothes in the dryer. Clearly I got distracted when I was packing clothes and books. 😦 It’s times like these when I feel like a moron.

Sleep came easy once I got out of my head, but I woke up way too early this morning because my thermostat (I don’t know where you live, but it’s fucking cold here.) decided to play games with me not once, but twice. Before going to bed, I set it on 66, knowing it would be in the 40’s overnight. Sometime around 4:00 or so, I woke up to see what the hell was going on. “Why the hell is it so hot in here??” I yelled. (Yes, I talk to myself a lot. I get the best answers.) It was hot because my thermostat reset itself to 70 degrees. I can’t breathe when it’s that hot inside and doesn’t need to be. Unless it’s in the red, my heat does not go over 68 degrees. It’s a rule. I can put on an oversized sweatshirt or hoodie, but I don’t need to be wasteful. On a semi-regular basis, my thermostat screws with me. I woke up one summer morning unable to move. I’d set the thermostat for 64 degrees, which is typically my summer temperature these days, but when I woke up it was mysteriously 52 degrees. I’d love to jokingly say “It’s ghosts!”, but there’s no spiritual presence in this house, or I’d feel it.

So here I sit, in pain, unhappy, grouchy, and probably not in the right frame of mind to deal with people in public.

Monday is another day.

Empty

2015-10-24 Miss Poison Emotions, Feelings, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Cat and Kitten, Feelings, Life, Musings, Negativity, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thinking Positive, Writing

I might be writing this from the afterlife. Why would I say that? Because the truly gruesome bruises are gone, there’s not a scratch in sight, and I feel…nothing. Perhaps empty would be the correct word. That can’t possibly be normal. Though my warm shower definitely reminded me that my left knee is far from okay. I will try to get it checked out this coming week.

I am packing my clothes, or at least, I’m trying to. I had no clue I had so many items. I tend to cycle through a lot of the same things over and over, as many of us do, but now that it’s getting colder and I am moving to a colder climate, there’s just cause to make sure my sweatshirts, sweaters, and warmer items are readily available.

I packed several boxes of books. I still have to finish getting all of them into boxes, so this weekend and Monday I will be on a box hunt to see if any stores have boxes from deliveries that they’d normally be recycling. It kills two birds with one stone and since the entire area doesn’t recycle until next week, they will surely have some larger boxes that will help make my life a little easier. With lighter items, the bigger the box, the quicker things get packed. There will definitely reach a point where I just start throwing things into boxes. Hey, it’s what a lot of “professional movers” do. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I keep labeling things STORAGE or HOUSE. I’ve lost the ability to read my handwriting and codes about what is in each box. If I had more time, I’d feel like less of a moron. 😦 I should have cataloged everything with a notebook.

Monday is my birthday. If my best friend hadn’t mentioned it to me the other day, I would gladly have pretended it wasn’t happening. However, I promised her I wouldn’t do that. I will spend a few hours on Monday doing some small “me things”, but afterwards it’s back to work. I shouldn’t be wasting time I don’t have. I can always “celebrate” after the move, in a city where, right now, I know exactly four people. YAY! 😦 I’ll become a proud member of the “Can you open a bottle of wine?” club. #NockingPoint #UnfilteredBlonde

I truly wish more hands were on deck than just mine. Packing up a large house on your own is incredibly difficult. My cousin gave me a very lame excuse as to why he couldn’t help, and has suspiciously been avoiding me ever since. Case Study #1 has to work, which is a legitimate reason seeing as how he’ll be in another country. That’s not his fault, but I’m happy to mention it whenever he says he’s sorry he can’t be of “more help”. Seriously dude?! Case Study #2 is being an immense pain in my ass. By the time I arrive at my destination and clear the truck out, I might be insane and/or murderous. Expect to see bizarre Tweets “from the road” and/or photos posted from odd stops along the way.

I feel bad for Cat and Kitten. They’re going to be forced into their carriers for roughly 4-6 hours and believe me, the chorus of crying will begin the second they realize the house is empty and all their safe things are “gone”. I will pack them up with a blanket each, so they have something soft to sleep on and pray that they both fall asleep at some point. I know where the first stop is and I will make sure they’re okay before the longer shifts of not-stopping occur, but ultimately, I look forward to seeing how they adapt to their new home. I suspect it will be harder on me than it will be for them. As long as they have me, their toys, food, and things that still smell “like home”, they’ll be okay. Cats may hate change, but they do adapt well when you raise them properly. I am many things, and one of those is an excellent Cat Mother. It might be roughly for 7-10 days, but I know they’ll be fine.

Me? I’ll be emotional. I never dreamt of leaving my home, the home I chose for the long-haul, but sometimes shit happens, life changes, and you have to make decisions to better yourself, your health, career, and happiness. I would prefer to be as positive about it as humanly possible, as opposed to holding on to negative energy or emotions that do not enrich my life in a prosperous way. The only way to reach an emotional state of inner peace is to be a positive person. I’m not perfect with this, no one is that zen, but I’m trying.

I hope you all have a wonderful, fun-filled, happy weekend. If you start sneezing for no reason at all, I’m probably talking about you (Just Kidding). LOL.

Aches, Pain, and Shooting Stars

2015-10-212015-10-21 Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Baseball, Creativity, Fall, Fibromyalgia, Ideas, My Birthday, October, Orionid Meteor Shower, Pain

It is unbearably difficult to move today. Everything hurts ten times worse than it did yesterday. 😦 The only non-painful part of my body are my toenails. That is sad, at least from where I’m sitting. Pain like this is torture and no decent human-being should be forced to live like this. I’m not stating that others should live like this, I’m just making a distinction. Unfortunately, some people bring a different set of horrors into their lives through their actions and behavior, but I digress.

I should physically shutdown for the day. I’ve already taken some pain relievers and I am trying to stay out of all rooms that whisper my name and give me packing ideas, or tell me how I’ve failed at completing every single task. I’ve intentionally left the boxes downstairs and the packing tape upstairs, because if they’re not in the same room as one another, it means trekking downstairs to get the boxes and quite frankly, my knee is in deep protest. All I can emotionally and physically manage today is giving myself a break. Maybe I’ll pack a few boxes tonight during the baseball game, but in the meantime, I need to stop.

The back and forth craziness that is the current weather is making my allergies insane. It’s so warm out today, you’d never know it was nearly the end of October. The leaves are changing color at a rapid pace. A few days ago one of my favorite trees was green and lush, but now the leaves are a deep shade of eggplant. That’s the color they’ll remain until becoming a vibrant crimson. I will miss that tree.

Tonight is the Orionid Meteor Shower. Don’t forget to make a wish if you happen to see a shooting star. I still remember the first time I saw one. Growing up in New York City, seeing a sky full of stars was rare, but the first shooting star was an amazing sight. I’ve seen other amazing things since leaving, but I still have a deeply profound respect for shooting stars, and rainbows. They will always be treasured things of beauty.

My birthday is next week, just in time for the Full Moon. I hope I’m able to enjoy one day to myself during all this madness because I guarantee that crunch time will be extra-crunchy. Thankfully, it is boosting my creativity and giving me a multitude of new ideas that I had been waiting to suddenly smack me upside the head. Soon, I’ll be back to filling pages, notebooks, and drying out all the “good pens” as I make huge pots of soup to fuel me through the cold.

Getting there is a battle. I just want to be in one piece when all is said and done.

100% Sore

2015-10-202015-10-20 Miss Poison Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Baseball, Donate, Fibromyalgia, Football, Hockey, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Purge, Recycle, Reduce, Writing

Hello everyone! I hope you’ve all had a marvelous few days. Me? Not so much. I’m doing my best, but I’m covered in bruises and there are many more that have yet to surface. I can feel them. Not fun. 😦

While trying to pack and get my shit together (Waste Management must hate me when they pick up the trash. I am breaking records with how much I am getting rid of. I have a twisted sense of humor, so this brings me great pleasure for some reason.), I badly injured my left knee. It’s swollen and difficult to walk, so I’m hobbling. There’s not much I can do about it until after the move. My right hip and lower back have also taken the time to act up and scream at me in daily agony. To add insult to injury, it was 28 degrees the other night. Every part of my body is in full-blown Fibro flare. Getting out of bed this morning was four hours of me saying “No.” to Cat and Kitten. Insomnia has taken over, so I’m not sleep-sleeping, which is making me unpleasant and grouchy.

I’ve virtually had no time to work as I sort through things and box up bits and pieces of my life. Thankfully, most of what I have is not moving with me, which leaves room in the truck for boxes, but I’ve decided that I want my life to be as minimalist as possible. I don’t want the next generation to be going through my stuff in 40-50 years saying “Wow, Mom had a lot of crap.” I am trying to reduce, purge, recycle, and donate. In fact, I am going through my things now, trying to put another box together for donation. As soon as I know how many there will be, I can schedule a pick-up. I’d like to aim for eight. So far, I’ve got three.

I did make a lot of progress throwing things out today, which makes me happy. I am certain that aside from photos and things that were handmade, I do not need to keep anything from before I was born. Sorry Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and all the Greats, but one person does not need roughly eight different sets of dishes, a multitude of wine glasses, and things she will absolutely never use. I don’t plan on having a dinner party any time soon for eighty people, but I’m almost certain I’ve got roughly eighty wine glasses that have never been used. I need to nip this in the bud NOW. On top of not being my taste, it’s too much and I’m worried about things of this nature breaking during the move. No matter how well packed things are, there’s always something that happens and I have to take that into consideration.

I am still adjusting to the new mattress. I’ve had maybe two good nights of sleep on it, if that. The replacement box spring was supposed to come out last week, but at the last-minute the store called (three times, no one can say they’re not trying to be helpful.) and said they only had one in the warehouse and had tried removing a stain from it. I called and said they could keep the stained one since that was only going to be temporary and to simply let me know when the new one was ready for delivery. I followed up this afternoon and the new one that I’d been told was “on order” has since been discontinued, so they’re now sweeping the store for a similar item to deliver to me. I don’t know if it will make an immense difference or not, but I credit them for doing their best to help. I was told by other customers how awful their customer service is, but I’ll be able to write a review stating otherwise. They even found instructions for me to take my bedroom furniture apart. The dresser has a mirror that screws into the back and the bed is four different pieces, but they got me a PDF file so that it can be detached and put back together as safely as possible. That’s major effort considering they no longer sell this furniture and I do love it or I wouldn’t have bought it. It’s no longer pristine from the store, it no longer has the “just delivered” newness to it, but it’s all mine and that’s what matters to me. Everything I am getting rid or and/or leaving behind can be replaced at an IKEA or a slightly more upscale store and quite frankly, IKEA has some really nice stuff. Again, this falls in line with my minimalist approach. My poor books are going into storage, but eventually they will be in a new place on new book shelves and I look forward to that. Books, DVD’s, music, and art are timeless items that I simply cannot live without for any real length of time.

My migraines have remained the same, they exist and they’re not going away anytime soon. 😦 The sudden shift in temperature hasn’t helped much and today is probably the warmest it will be for a while. Unlike most people, I don’t mind the change of seasons, but I DO mind it shifting so quickly from warm to “Holy crap!” My poor body doesn’t know what to do with that, so my pain levels go from manageable to sky-high. In times like these, all I can do is focus on what needs to be done and rest when I need to. No matter what I am putting my body through, I still need to rest and slow down. The last few nights that has meant watching baseball, and last night I sat through one of the worst football games I’ve been tortured with in a long time. If a team has no intention of showing up <cough, GIANTS> they should forfeit before embarrassing themselves. I’m happy for the Blue Jays though, and I promise I will try not to refer to them as the Maple Leafs any more. Or perhaps I’ll try not to do that next year. LOL. I clearly have hockey on the brain. It happens.

For those of you that submitted questions for the AMA, it will begin after my move, so I welcome people to continue to submit their questions.

I’ll be back soon. Have a wonderful evening everyone! 🙂

Time Is A Fickle Thing

2015-10-11 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Israel, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

This weekend has blown by. I’ve done so much in the last few days that I am struggling to move. The only thing that doesn’t hurt is my hair. 😦

My new mattress was delivered earlier in the evening. The irony that I’ll only get to sleep on it for the next three weeks is not lost on me. The sale was amazing, so I was able to get some other much-needed items that I wouldn’t normally spend money on, but I had a huge store credit to use up even after the mattress was factored in. The fact that they wouldn’t fork over the cash is the only reason I allowed myself that bit of “retail therapy”.

Naturally, delivery couldn’t just be an easy thing. As soon as the delivery guys lifted the mattress up, they discovered that the broken spring wasn’t just on the top side of the mattress where I discovered it and where the inspector had found and photographed it. It had cracked and busted through the other side of the mattress as well, putting a huge hole in the box spring, a hole that exceeds the one I saw on the surface of the mattress. I had to call the store and leave a message to let them know that one side of the box spring will need to be replaced, since it’s a split box spring to suit the size of my bed’s frame. I was mortified seeing that hole, because I regularly check these things and I never even thought to take a look at it when I discovered the hole in the mattress. You live, you learn. Thankfully, this new mattress is spring-free. I suspect I might actually sleep well tonight.

I tried doing some lighter stuff today to help my lower back heal a little before I tackle the heavier things, but I ended up boxing up some stuff for donation (clothes, stuffed animals that my Mom had collected that I am okay parting with, etc.), sorting through some of my books, and putting things aside for the library, my nail salon, and tossing an immense amount of items. I also did laundry that way I will get to my new place with clean clothes for late Fall/early Winter, I just have to fold it all and pack it up. I’ve damn near met the ten bag limit for tomorrow’s garbage pick-up, which makes me smile. You truly have no idea how much you own until you have to move. If it were up to me, I’d leave 75% of this stuff behind, but since I inherited the “stuff”, I feel responsible for it. The next time I have to move, it will be the most minimalist move I can manage. I am determined to make that happen. I would prefer to leave my life and have memories as opposed to “stuff”. Music, books, art, photos, and jewelry are the only exceptions to the minimalist concept. Let’s not discuss my collection of bridal magazines that are in perfect shape that I will be putting out for recycling later in the week. I think there are three full boxes chock full of them, along with a smattering of other magazines that I definitely do not need to keep. It’s probably 100 pounds of printed paper. Note to self: You’re not allowed to subscribe to anything ever again, not even a free subscription. It’s not necessary. Read it and toss it like a normal person!

I wish I’d had more downtime to read and catch up on my DVR queue, but it just wasn’t possible. While waiting for the delivery men I watched (which means I fast-forwarded through all the commercials) The Originals (One of the BEST episodes ever. Kudos to Joseph Morgan & Daniel Gillies.), Bones, The Player (If you haven’t seen this show, I highly recommend it. Philip Winchester is AMAZING.), and after dinner I watched the finale of Strike Back, which is the ONLY series finale of any show that actually made me smile. Normally I am left with a “Who the fuck wrote this crap?” moment, but this one was outstanding. I love that show and will miss it terribly. Nothing else like it on TV.

I’ve got a ton of things to do this week. I have writing assignments to either complete or get started on, but I’m proud of the quality of the work I’ve already put in and I’m proud of the topics for the pieces I haven’t begun working on yet. All in all, the writing aspect of my life is doing what it’s supposed to do. When you don’t force it, or yourself, your work is ten times better than if you sit and stare at the screen in an attempt to “be a writer”. And yes, that’s a subject that will be covered in the coming weeks.

And so my lovelies, that was my weekend in a nutshell. I spared you the gory details out of the kindness of my heart. 😛

If you’re not watching football or baseball at the moment, I hope you’re getting ready for the week ahead and resting well. I am about to shut everything down for the night and get into bed. Really, just sitting here is so comfortable that my repeatedly broken tailbone doesn’t hurt at all. That’s unheard of since I normally can’t sit on any surface for very long without a small amount of pain in that part of my body, so I hope this is a sign of good things to come.

I’ll be back with more interesting things soon. Until next time, remember that while 40 may be the new 20, kindness is also the new black. 😉

Also, I am sending out prayers to my best friend in Israel who e-mailed me earlier today to let me know about the bombing near her home. There is absolutely NO reason why she should have to feel like a prisoner in the country she was born & raised in. Something has GOT to be done to keep the citizens of Israel safe from terror. Hell hath no fury if someone harms one of my best friends. I pray things settle down soon.

Laila Tov,

Know Your Rights

2015-10-10 Miss Poison Honesty, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Firearms, Honesty, Ignorance, Opinionated Views, Poison In Lethal Doses, Safety, Weapons, Writing

Author’s Note: You can agree to disagree with me, but I feel that what I am saying is completely valid and I make no apologies for it. These are MY feelings. You don’t have to share in them and I did not write this to argue, I wrote it because it’s my perspective.

Rights in America change a little too frequently, so much so that it’s hard to keep up. The Founding Fathers are probably rolling over in their graves as they watch what has become of this nation.

Under normal circumstances I keep a lot of my personal beliefs to myself, but someone started an ignorant fight with me and it sparked the desire to write about it.

The very benign disagreement was deleted by the person who started it with her comment, so not only did I cease further communications with her, something I never do when I’ve known someone for 20+ years, but ultimately, I lost respect for her because she clearly knew what she was doing with her comments and I felt that was low. Don’t say something stupid and expect every single person to agree with you. This is not GroupThink.

Here’s what happened verbatim:

The first person (who, as I said, deleted the three comment disagreement) stated that she really wanted to go to the movies, but that she didn’t feel it was okay for the movie theater to “search through her purse”. She lives in the same state as I do, and I agree with her. It’s NOT okay. Her acquiescence in the same statement was “I guess that’s the world we live in now.” Um, NO, it’s not, and it’s irresponsible for you to say something so stupid.

People immediately chimed in with a plethora of anti-gun sentiments, so this quickly escalated into something it didn’t need to be.

I don’t think of guns and movie theaters in the same sentence. I truly don’t. I’m not ignorant, I know what happens and what has happened in this country, but to give that thought credence and act as though it will continue to happen because of responsible gun owners is not rational, intelligent thinking. Unfortunately, this was like like reading comments from a Million Mom March, as opposed to people with differing opinions sharing their views. I was the only person saying anything pro-gun, and believe me, I barely got started.

In regard to the statement that “this is the world we live in now”: It’s incidents of unlawfulness with malicious intent. However, it is not the entire globe. Anyone stating shit like that is utterly ignorant. I have NEVER, not once, gone to the movies and thought about harming someone. Neither has anyone else I know.

While many movie theaters are posting signs asking law abiding gun owners not to carry openly or concealed into their establishments, regardless of the fact that their state’s laws allow them to do so, others are simply going through women’s purses to confiscate candy, snacks, and bottled water, which isn’t about anyone’s safely, but ultimately about how much money you spend after purchasing a ticket. That has NOTHING to do with your personal safety or the safety of those with you. If they want you to be “safe”, if they are truly concerned about a potential shooting occurring in one of their theaters, then maybe they should have someone armed in every single theater as opposed to acting like going to the movies requires a TSA-type pat down.

Going to the movies is supposed to be fun, not stressful. If they want to prevent something from happening, they can’t make their audiences targets. After all, they weren’t searching any of the men, just women’s purses. Does that seem a little ass-backward? I don’t recall any females shooting up a movie theater, do you?

My response to this was “I would walk right out if they demanded to search through my purse without a warrant or probable cause. Know your rights.” And that’s precisely when some stupid bitch decided to turn that into more than it really is by saying “I guess your “rights” are more important to you than your safety.” I answered the lunatic by stating that she is ignorant, that a lawful citizen not only knows their rights but can protect themselves, their loves ones, and absolute strangers because they have passed a background check, have been fingerprinted to be able to carry concealed, taken a 40 hour class in firearms safety, among other things based on the individual state one resides in. Within an hour of my response, the entire interaction was deleted by the originator of said discussion, and I find that utterly cowardly. I do not abide by cowards.

For starters, I am not a criminal and therefore if you do not have a warrant or a legitimate reason to search me, I do not have to submit to being searched, be it my person or personal property, without reasonable cause. Certainly NOT at a movie theater where I am paying hard-earned money to watch something I want to see. I don’t carry a gun in my purse. I don’t know anyone who does, so if that is how a movie theater is going to conduct themselves, they do not need my business. If they think they’re going to confiscate a gun from a law abiding woman by such means, they’re wrong. However, I’m also not a mental moron. Unless I am going to an airport to board a plane (in my state, you can be armed and be standing at baggage claim waiting for someone. If you’re approached by security or a police officer because, for some reason, you’re imprinting, all you have to do is show them your concealed carry permit and ID. They might be a little dramatic, but if you’re not aggressive, they won’t be either.), walking into the post office, walking into a government agency (I’ll use Social Security as an example since I had to replace my card a few years ago), or going into a courthouse, then searching through my bag is completely unacceptable. Would you let a restaurant do that before they seated you? No, you wouldn’t, because that’s not acceptable behavior, nor is it acceptable for anyone to do that at a fucking movie theater. Moreover, you have to check a weapon at the front door of any courthouse or lock the firearm in the trunk of your car, the choice is yours. Otherwise, you’re going through a metal detector, so it’s not like you can hide anything. How many women have had a wand used on them because they were wearing an underwire bra that had real wire in it? I have. It takes two seconds for them to say “I don’t mean to be nosey, but I have to ask. Are you wearing a push-up bra or any type of underwire bra? Oh, okay. It’s the bra. You can go, miss.” I have yet to cause anyone harm with a bra, though there are days those fuckers hurt and should be abolished.

I was once asked to leave a Kubaton attached to my keys behind with an armed guard. He held it for me until I left, no harm, no foul. He didn’t treat me like a fucking criminal for having a self-defense weapon in my possession because I have the legal right to do so. After all, this is still America, not Nazi Germany.

A TSA agent once checked my hair because the screening showed a piece of metal. She immediately saw it was my hairclip and that I did not have a bomb strapped to my head. That was the end of that. I very clearly didn’t require a cavity search.

Second, it is important to know your rights. When you don’t, you’ll allow stupid shit to be done to you and you’ll accept things you wouldn’t allow if you’d had the proper knowledge.

Many people turned the original comment into a war against guns. “Oh, everyone is so violent.” or they outright stated that “People who are mentally ill need to have guns taken away from them.” Categorically speaking, that would mean someone who suffers from OCD, has bouts of depression, PTSD, or anxiety could potentially have a concealed carry permit revoked because a bunch of assholes think that somehow impairs your judgment. Unless a person is paranoid and thinks the entire world is out to get them, the chances of that gun being used outside of a range are slim.

Would I tell an anxious rape victim that she had no right to a concealed carry permit to protect herself from future harm? No, I would NOT. Would I tell a single mother that she didn’t have the right to own a shotgun to protect herself and her children? No. Would I tell someone who has an order of protection that she needs to wait weeks, or months, to purchase a firearm for protection? NO. However, all these people cared about was causing an issue where there wasn’t one.

People will argue that guns can escalate a situation, and that may be true in the hands of the wrong person, but it’s not the truth in every situation known to man. Would I prefer to shoot someone or be raped? The former, always. Would I prefer to shoot to protect myself or be shot? The former, always. Every woman in this country has the right to defend herself however she sees fit, and for anyone to say she does not have the right and that she be allowed to be a victim in any situation disgusts me.

This country was built on the back of a horse and guns have always been used to defend and protect. We have the right to bear arms. We have freedom of speech and freedom of religion. And yet, Americans think we need to take rights away from ourselves every single day and they are 100% WRONG.

Two Americans disarmed a gunman on train and protected people a few months ago. http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2015/08/22/433742051/3-americans-hailed-as-heroes-for-subduing-train-gunman That is heroism.

Many Americans immigrate to Israel to join various factions of the IDF, to protect land that is, from North to South, slightly larger than the state of New Jersey.

Our military is taught to use force in combat if necessary, yet they are not allowed to defend themselves on U.S. soil, which is absolutely deplorable. You’re telling them to be victims when they could diffuse a situation with their experience.

I grew up with NYPD officers as next door neighbors. When one cop moved out, another would move in. You couldn’t have been safer. My Mom once had a roommate whose brother was a cop. Whenever he wanted to go out drinking, he needed to leave his service weapon someplace safe, as it wasn’t allowed to go off-duty with him at the time. Everyone else was afraid of guns, except for my Mom. He’d tell her where it was and she’d babysit the gun until he came back. I grew up with a healthy respect for firearms.

I had a friend call to tell me about a date she’d been on. She freaked because the guy she was seeing was a cop and she had no idea that the entire time they were out together, he was carrying concealed. She went to hug him goodnight and jerked away the second she realized he was armed. I explained that he was off-duty, but her personal experience with guns was so negative that she never saw him again. She didn’t want to be around guns or have them in her life. I explained his side of things gently, and then I let it go because her feelings were based on trauma. That I understand. They were not coming from a place of ignorance or hatred, they were coming from a place of trauma and fear. She was never going to be able to get past that, and I told her that was okay.

No matter where you live in this world, guns can and will continue to get into the wrong hands. It’s a given, and it’s sad. However, those I know are pretty unexpected. I don’t expect a 65+ year old Grandmother to be walking around packing heat, but a great many do. To each their own. I have found that every male gun owner expects me to be dainty, dumb, and a Republican. I’m not dainty, I’m far from stupid, and I’m not a Republican, so I just let them talk themselves into a wall. All I hear is “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

All that being said: School shootings are unacceptable. If you’re paying to send your child to a community college or a university, you’re sending your children off to public school, you have a very reasonable expectation for them to be safe and remain safe. If you’re going to ban guns from campus and not allow guards and security to be armed, then you’re 100% asking for trouble. There is always going to be some lunatic looking to martyr themselves onto the news. Healthy people don’t talk about Satan and they don’t shoot people based on their religion. But does that mean guns should be taken away from everyone? No.

The current President of the United States is using all of these tragedies as a way to further destroy this country. Our relations with some of our closest allies have been tarnished and/or strategically broken by this sorry excuse for a President. It is absolutely shameful.

Guns themselves do not kill people. It’s the person holding the gun who is responsible for any good or bad they commit. I could say that some writers should have all pens and all forms of technology taken from them due to horrible writing, but that would be dismissed because people don’t see words as ‘weapons’.

We’re not arguing for “knife control” when people are stabbed. We’re not arguing for a lot of things that involve our daily safety, but every other person has an opinion about “gun control”. Many of whom do not own guns and never have.

If you are an actor or actress with armed bodyguards, either for yourself or your family, then you have absolutely NO right to say that this country needs “gun control”. Especially when you make your money on television or in films that A) have violence in them and B) Use guns. If you’re from a country where guns are banned, take a good look at your military personnel. They are not going into battle unarmed. How do you think your freedoms are being protected? With stickers, candy, and handshakes?

Overall, this world is violent. I do not place blame on individuals, governments, or weapons for that. I place blame on how people think. It’s not normal to stampede over someone on Black Friday to save money on Christmas presents, yet it happens, people get hurt and some die, and yet, NO ONE says we need to better control those sales because there will always be a Black Friday. We care less and less about the human condition, but we’re all too ready to point fingers and spew uneducated words, or hate.

If you know nothing about firearms, educate yourself before you say something stupid. It’s crucial to know your rights, no matter where you live in this world. You don’t have to like what I’ve said, you don’t have to agree with it, but I think we can all safely agree that our rights shouldn’t be violated.

If you’re doing things lawfully, good for you, you’re responsible and educating yourself. Unfortunately, there will always be people who will illegally purchase a weapon of any kind, or make bombs in their homes, with the intent of harming others. Do you think terrorists care about your safety? Do you think they care about legally acquiring a weapon of any kind? They don’t. So before anyone tries lecturing me about my rights, they should do their fucking homework and know what they’re talking about first.

In all situations; know your rights.

Friday Feelings

2015-10-092015-10-09 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Emotions, Family, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Siblings, Tears, Writing

What profound, intelligent things can I say today? I won’t give myself that much credit as my thoughts are scattered at the moment, but hey, it has been known to happen. 😉

On occasion, I wish people wouldn’t give me such rich material and expect me not to write about it (That’s okay, the status quo is in tact.). Generally, those who do such things have no idea it’s being written about because they take no real interest in me as a person, but at this point, you’re opening yourself up to be cannon fodder. I make a point of protecting the guilty by never naming names. 😛

Most writers will write and speak from personal experience, even in works of fiction, because daily life is ridiculous and downright comedic at times. I often look around for hidden cameras to make sure I’m not part of some bizarre reality show. Half the time I feel the need to double-check to make sure Ashton Kutcher isn’t going to pop out from behind something to tell me I’ve just been Punk’d. They really need to bring that show back…

I got a surprise phone call yesterday afternoon from the store where I purchased my mattress, the one that somehow managed to have a spring crack and pop through the pillow-top, thus causing a hole that hadn’t been there two weeks prior when I first discovered it. This has been going on since August. When the “mattress inspector” came out early Tuesday morning, and by early, I mean he was here at 8:45 and after a few photos and my signature, wished me good luck with my move, I figured that even with visible proof, I’d be forced to replace it sometime next year. I cannot begin to explain how painful it is, but the inspector was nice. He said they’d take care of me “Even if you are a Yankees fan.” LOL. During the inspection he pointed out that the entire area where the spring popped is caving in slightly. That explains why I have often felt like the mattress was uneven (Total blonde moment. I can say for a fact that I was blonde when I started thinking there was something wrong with this thing.).

The lady from their service department sounded really nice when I answered the phone, but I thought she was lulling me into a false sense of security. When she informed me that the inspector’s report was that the mattress is damaged (“He said your mattress is stain-free and in perfect condition despite the damage, which is clearly not your fault.”), I was thrilled. I paid very little for a higher-end mattress because I purchased it during a big President’s Day sale along with most of my other bedroom furniture. She said I could come into the store anytime as there is now a massive credit on my account, all I have to do is pick out something new and by the way, they’re having a 50% off sale for Columbus Day. My jaw dropped. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am. So, later today (tomorrow if I still feel like crap) I am taking Case Study #2 with me so that I can get a second opinion on mattress comfort. I openly admit I only sat on this one before I chose it, and because my Fibromyalgia has progressively worsened since then, I felt it was important to do some research on the best mattresses for chronic pain sufferers.

I’ve always wanted to upgrade to a Sleep Number bed, but I’ve read mixed reviews from pain sufferers. Memory foam has always felt painful to me, but there is now a new type of memory foam with some kind of gel in the core, so I went on their web-site and found three or four different mattresses to test. No matter how I cut it, I’m still making out like a bandit because they issued me the full price despite the fact that I bought this one on sale. I’m going to look at this as a gift and a blessing because being in pain while I sleep is agonizing. Whoever is looking out for me from up Above, THANK YOU. This means replacing my pillows after the move because I always have a difficult time finding good ones that remain good. Maybe this time I won’t need so many and can downgrade to six.

However, in my joy, I found out there are also plenty of painful, unshed tears inside me. I don’t want to move and leave what little I have built here behind. I’ve enjoyed living here, for the most part. I’ve enjoyed the area and all that has become familiar to me, but in order for progress to occur, I have to improve upon instead of remaining stagnant. I have to focus on my health and make some big changes before I can consider anything else.

What pains me most about this is that I am leaving behind my closest family member, which is making me worry beyond words. I have looked out for him since before he was born. I take the responsibility of being a sister very seriously. We spend an extraordinary amount of time together for siblings (He gets mistaken for my father or boyfriend constantly because apart from a few features, we don’t look alike.), and I know I will be sick with worry every single day that I will get a phone call with news that I will feel responsible for.

I have taken care of my brother since the day he came home from the hospital. I took care of him even more after we lost our parents. Leaving him behind now makes me feel like the worst person on the planet. No matter how many times he & I have discussed other options, we were railroaded, so now I’m left with no other option. I will be 2-5 hours away in an emergency, depending on my method of transportation, and I am worried because he’s never truly been on his own before. He has always had me to rely on to bail him out of trouble and to look out for him. I always say “Call or text me so I know you got there safely.” and “Call me when you get back, so I know you’re safe.” He constantly makes me worry. We can go for days without speaking and our relationship is not perfect, but he is still my brother and I’d hate myself if anything ever happened and I wasn’t there for him.

Does he feel the same? I honestly don’t know what he feels. He isn’t the most communicative human-being when it pertains to emotions. I’ve only seen him cry three times in the last decade, and that number might be too high if I think about it.

Since informing him of my decision, he has been angry and volatile. He has accused me of abandoning him and said we won’t have a relationship at all once I move, that he’ll be “cutting me off” emotionally. I’ve repeatedly said “We can talk every day, we can text, we can e-mail like we always do, and we can Skype. I’ll be back in a flash if you truly need me and you can always come and visit.” He’s said he won’t visit, which might just be how he feels now, but I truly don’t know. I do, however, feel that he has some major growing up to do and since I was recently accused of “holding him back” simply because I provided unsolicited advice, I feel like it’s time to let him learn the way he’s always chosen to learn; the hard way. It makes me sick to my stomach, I’m terrified over what he might get himself into, but I also know in my heart that I have done everything I possibly can for him and he’s chosen not to change or grow. You can no longer help someone who doesn’t give a shit about the things in life that are truly important.

Cat will miss him terribly. She worships the ground he walks on. Since the first night I brought her home, she has adored him. He was the first person to hold her, the first person she purred for, the first person she chirped at, and the first person she ever gave kisses to. If I thought he could truly care for her the way I do, I’d let them be together, but I know he can barely take care of himself and that the responsibility of a cat is not in his wheelhouse at the moment. I know she will search for him and miss him, but I also know she will never forget him. And I do hope he’ll change his mind and visit a few times a year, because it’s not a huge trip to make when you only have a bag of clothes and your laptop with you. I am hoping that time will show him that I’m not abandoning him, that I’m giving him room to spread his wings. No matter where either of us are, we will always remain siblings. That’s an unbreakable bond, though I realize for many, that the bond does break.

The day he was born my exact words were “I didn’t ask for a little brother. Can we send him back? I specifically said I wanted a baby sister.” I was lovingly informed that I don’t get to choose that sort of thing. God has given me sisters in the form of my closest friends, and for that I am truly grateful, but when it comes to my brother I suspect I’ll always have mixed emotions. Even when we’ve gone years without seeing each other, we have still spoken regularly and communicated better than when we’ve lived in the same home or city/town. Perhaps this is precisely how he learns to be a better brother.

He has, often quite begrudgingly, been there for me these past few years as my Fibromyalgia has worsened and my migraines became more difficult to manage. He has taken out my trash and recycling, picked up medication, brought me emergency supplies when I’ve been sick or in too much pain to get out of bed, done library and post office runs, and been my partner-in-crime nine times out of ten. He has helped me when I’ve needed help, cared for my familiar when I’d go on vacation, dropped me off at the airport and picked me up, even when the timing inconvenienced him, and fixed things for me when I wasn’t 100% certain how to do it myself. No matter how many times I say thank you or do something to show my appreciation for these things, he tells me he has “outlived his usefulness”. Unfortunately through all that help, he has also been highly disrespectful, overly demanding, and extremely abusive. He always expects to be forgiven simply because he is my brother, but it is not always possible to forgive unforgivable things. I realize that is a lesson he needs to learn for himself.

So as I proceed, I am certain my eyes will be swollen shut at some point from all the crying, but hopefully he will flourish without my presence. I will never stop being his sister or his friend, but I’ve done all I can to “keep the family together”, my Grandmother’s dying plea to me. Maybe it was an unfair request, but I think I’ve held up the three promises I made to her before she passed away, to the best of my ability, as this was long before my Fibromyalgia diagnosis when I only had two things plaguing my life.

I don’t know how to turn off the maternal gene, it’s ingrained in who I am. It’s possible I have always been overprotective. Here’s hoping that one day my brother can look back on all of that and know in his heart that I’m not abandoning him, I am simply making important changes with a hole in my heart. I cannot allow guilt to make my decisions for me. I cannot allow tears to hold me back, because no matter what, my life and happiness are equally important.

I pray I am making the right decision for all involved. I also pray that he will soon realize that I’m not choosing someone else over him, but that I am choosing me for the first time in my life.

“Am I Mean?”

2015-10-08 Miss Poison Honesty, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Honesty, Marriage, Men, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Things That Nauseate Me, Women, Writing

This was the question I posed to one of my best friends the other morning when a friend said something stupid and I responded. If you make something public, don’t expect intelligent people not to make a statement. It’s common sense.

There’s a lot you can say to and in front of me. I will say ANYTHING to make my friends laugh or think and I’ll say things to be goofy, but there’s a time and a place for certain subject matter, and there are also boundaries I don’t cross. I say plenty of inappropriate shit in my daily life, but the difference is; I don’t say it publicly or in mixed company. I would NEVER intentionally say something that could be taken the wrong way and/or hurt someone. Moreover, on social media, it’s crucial not to do it.

I don’t give a fuck where you’re from, the use of the word “fag” is utterly inappropriate. Call it a fucking cigarette, but the second you say the word “fag”, you’re going to piss me off. You cannot tell me you’re trying to “adopt the language of your new country” because that’s a horrible excuse and you’re living somewhere on a visa, not as a citizen. If the Queen of England used that word in public, it would be just as offensive and wrong, and since your manners and breeding aren’t exactly up there, I suggest you stop trying to be something you’re not. My exact words were “You are not British, Scottish, or Irish and I strongly suggest not using that word in mixed company, as it is inappropriate.” In essence, don’t try to be something or someone you’re not.

“They don’t understand my English here, so I have to use their slang.” I communicate with Brits, Scots, and Irish people on a highly regular basis. Not once have they ever had a problem with my use of the English language. Perhaps my command is better. I don’t pretend to be something or someone I’m not. I certainly have my Britishisms. I always have, but in my day-to-day life you will hear me speak North American English (lest I offend someone), British English, Russian, Swedish, Yiddish, Spanish, Ladino, Italian, and French. On any given day, there are aspects of every language that are part of my daily vernacular. That’s who I am. It’s a sign of how I was raised and my education, not of trying to be anything other than myself. I do NOT blend in and I do not adhere to other people’s ideas of how I should be.

So, I consulted someone who knows me well to inquire if I was actually being mean, rude, or overly judgmental. Her response was: “No, you’re just really honest. If she can’t grasp the point, that’s on her, not you.” She found the entire ordeal as ridiculous as I did, but reacted the same way to the use of the word “fag” because it IS inappropriate.

The word was not used with malicious intent, however, in mixed company, I think one should put a lid on it.

My mind was completely blown when a 40 plus year old woman used the word “wee” to refer to her husband getting up to use the bathroom. “I’m in pain, but I’ll wait for hubby to wake up to take a pain pill because I’m scared to go downstairs by myself.” Are you fucking kidding me?! Are there rabid animals in your home, or is there a pillaging Viking in your midst? That is one of the most infantile, ludicrous statements I’ve ever heard.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m a 21st century, modern woman, but any time a woman tells me “I was strong and independent for seven years…until I met my husband.”, that makes me want to hurl. I have a four year old Goddaughter who isn’t afraid of the dark, of going downstairs in the middle of the night for a drink on her own, etc. And yet, a grown woman is afraid to get out of bed until her husband wakes up, as if being married means you are somehow protected and shielded from all the horrors of the world?! I am pretty sure I popped a blood vessel in my left eye reading that nonsense!

Being married should make you a better person, because that’s what your partner should want for you. Anyone who wants you completely reliant on them for every single thing is NOT a true partner. Being told you’re “allowed to visit hubby’s work on his lunch break” is controlling. That is not being a strong woman; that is being weak, childish, and ridiculous.

I have an incredibly low tolerance for shit like this. I will never be the little woman at home ironing for a man who is fully capable of ironing his own damn crap. This is not 1930. My maternal Grandmother may have been a homemaker, but that was an entirely different era and she & I certainly butted heads over the generational differences. My paternal Grandmother lost her husband to a heart attack when he was 40. She had a five year old and a fifteen year old to care for, so she worked two jobs and supported her children, making certain they never went without. She was sick and she worked her ass off every single day until she reached retirement age. In my eyes, that is strength.

I am sure many of you have nicknames for your spouses/partners, but “wifey” and “hubby” nauseate the crap out of me. The most anyone gets out of me is “Babe” or “Hon”, and even then, he’s pushing it. I do give people nicknames and I do tend to shorten names, but I’m not sickening to overhear. I don’t have to use baby talk to show my affection for someone. I don’t have to lose self-respect, dignity, and brain cells to prove that I love someone.

Case Study #1 gets called by his name, period. Many of my friends have nicknames, even if their names aren’t long. It’s a sign of affection if I’ve taken the time to give you a nickname, but referring to anyone in such an asinine manner is beyond me. Even Cat and Kitten have nicknames, and frankly, they have beautiful names, but sometimes I don’t see who is running in front of me or who is trying to trip me while I work, so I’ll say “Okay my little loves, knock it off. I know you’re here. Mommy loves you.” All they want is comfort and assurance, whereas an adult doesn’t need to be referred to like they’re a newborn. In fact, I’d NEVER do that to a newborn. No one spoke baby talk to me, and I turned out fairly well based on my family life. I was raised to be a strong woman, and that doesn’t stop no matter who is in my life.

Since this person is so incredibly fearful, I am going to be recommending that she seek therapy for her co-dependency and trauma issues. No, I am not joking. I’m a good friend and in order to continue being a good friend, sometimes you have to let a person know that they’re not healthy and that a different route needs to be taken.

Of course, I am sure she’ll have an excuse for not being able to do that, despite the fact that I have to hear about every doctor’s appointment she’s had since arriving, every meal she has cooked (I cook nearly every single day, give or take, and I truly don’t feel the need to report it to anyone, unless it was for a special occasion. Also, I don’t discuss it on Facebook.), complete with photos, and mentions every other fart she or her “hubby” have felt the need to report.

I may be tough, but I’m also fair. If you don’t want me to interject with a comment, don’t say stupid shit.

Do You Remember?

2015-10-07 Miss Poison Editing, Editors, Honesty, Human, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writers, Writing Clients, Dirty Manuscripts, Editing, Honesty, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work

Earlier this year, I accepted a new client who had never been edited before. From the start, there were problems. She couldn’t follow the payment plan, which was bi-weekly. I gave her multiple opportunities to “get it right” before she did, but I didn’t start working until she paid in full. Call me crazy, but I wasn’t about to lose money over a person who wasn’t serious and who thought everything was funny. “Oops, I’ll have to pay you in two weeks. I put the money on the wrong prepaid card. Sorry.” I’d get these messages for weeks before I said “You have to pay by this date or I’m not taking the job.”

Her “manuscript”, and I use the term so loosely, rope should be involved, was a fucking MESS. I don’t exaggerate about the written word, ever. Mess, disaster, and “manuscript from hell” are words I’d use, and did, to describe the torment of having to work for this demanding, rude, insensitive, know-it-all who’d never been edited and is going to tell me, after 20 years of experience, how long a “dirty manuscript” on a first edit should take. I know people who have taken five years to write a book they were proud of. When it was edited a year after completion, so as to be thorough, at least they knew it wasn’t crap.

I’ve given her weekly updates, sometimes bi-weekly. I’ve done everything to be highly communicative, receiving responses like “Okie”, because apparently that’s how she spells “Okay”. Did you just empathize with me? Communicating with this person was like talking to a crash test dummy.

When I contacted her this morning to let her know that I’m moving and would complete her manuscript once I was settled in to my new place of residence, she claimed she’d given me two different deadlines that never existed. I know they didn’t exist because I never committed to a deadline, and she never specified one in the contract, or in conversation. It was 100% never discussed. I have a very sharp memory and yes, she bitched once, but I flat-out explained how much work was involved in her manuscript, and how time-consuming it was as it is not my full-time job.

Today she decided she’d prefer to part ways and “go a different road”. I returned the “dirty manuscript” with all of my notes and for the first time in 20 years, allowed myself to say “Good riddance.” I was the epitome of polite and respectful, but her demands during one of the worst years of my life and her deciding to “part ways” is a blessing. If I told you how much I got paid for this edit, you’d cry. Never again will I allow myself to be demeaned or disrespected by someone who thinks they’re the next Stephen King.

I had a moment where I felt like a failure. I have NEVER, not once, returned incomplete work to someone, but when a person is completely unwilling to work with you, to read their work before submitting it, etc., then I don’t feel it’s my responsibility, once they get vile, to do more than say “Here you go. Good luck.” Clearly she has NO idea how the industry works, what is and is not marketable, and that without a team behind me, yes, editing takes time. She said she wrote this manuscript in a few months and that “everyone who read it loved it”. It was barely a first draft, leave alone a fourth re-write. I can tell when someone is half-assing something. Even if they’re a New York Times Bestselling Author, I can tell when something isn’t properly thought out before submission.

So from here on in, I am only accepting proofreading, beta reads, and critiques. My writing focus now returns to my novels, which are quality. My creative focus will move to my career change because while I will always be a writer, I need more to keep me going. I need something daily that makes me feel like I have purpose.

A word of advice: Editors aren’t your punching bag and they don’t deserve to be shit on. If your editor is having a bad year, it’s okay to suggest moving on so that they can focus on their own life during a crisis, but it’s not okay to be a bitch to them. Treat people the way you’d want to be treated if the roles were reversed. Be respectful. Even more, if you’re barely paying them, you have no right to bitch about time unless you split everything up into chapters and allow them to work and submit chapters back to you as they complete them, because that’s when things can work in a much smoother fashion.

I highly recommend splitting your files up into chunks, perhaps a few chapters at a time, that way you’re communicating properly with the person who will be tending to your “baby”. Also, ask them to do a read-through before they edit, that way they can give you a fair price and an estimated time of delivery. Don’t freak out if the book that took you years to write takes nine months, or longer, to edit. I do a proofread, edit, fact-check, and then I double-check the work, so yes, it’s time-consuming.

The person you’re hiring is a flake only if you never see any results and never hear from them again, but a person who communicates with you regularly is being honest.

If my editor was having a bad year, I would never show them such disrespect. Shit happens, and it’s not the other person’s fault. If you want to hire a trained monkey who will kiss your ass, perhaps you should check out your local zoo.

I’ve never been so happy to delete someone’s work in my entire life. That probably sounds horrible, but at the end of the day, I shouldn’t want to remove my head off my shoulders because I was doing my job. No one should feel that way.

When someone tells me their story is SO good that it will be picked up traditionally and I’m editing it shaking my head “No, not in this lifetime.”, that means it will be 99 cents on Amazon Kindle. Granted, I’ve read some fantastic stuff for $5 or less on Kindle, but I’ve also been mortified by a lot of it.

Anyone who reads this sees my work regularly. They know I don’t eat bullshit politely with a knife and fork, and when you see my writing style, you can see that I edit it thoroughly. I’m human. I have the occasional typo, I’m quick-witted, educated, and willing to admit my faults.

Today, I say “C’est la vie.” Write what you want to write, but disrespecting an experienced, talented editor is unacceptable to me. One migraine less to think about. I’m moving on.

I Refuse To Change

2015-10-062015-10-06 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Asking For Help, Exhaustion, Family, Friends, Friendship, Honesty, Writing

After taking a couple of days to rest from overdoing it, I am back on my grind today. While going through a box that I never unpacked from my original move (because nothing inside it was overly important), I found a ton of missing CD’s. I reorganized that box for its intended purpose, took the CD’s out, and I’m boxing up music. I added some songs to my media library since I will be putting the majority of my music into storage initially. You know how there’s always that one song you miss? I was happy to find a few. But I’m also debating tossing things I don’t want to move with, heavy things that seem kind of pointless, but then I have a moment where I think “Shouldn’t you at least have the opportunity to go through all of this stuff before deciding to toss it or not? Okay, so it’s a few extra boxes and it will take hours to go through every single item and make a decision, but if you’re throwing away solid memories, maybe it should wait. If you’re questioning it, then now is not the time to toss it.”

How is it that “stuff” emotionally neuters us at times? In life, we build memories and sometimes, memories captured are difficult to part with. The more I pause, the more I feel like nothing is getting done and I’m working on a very tight deadline.

To add insult to injury, I have absolutely no clue how this move is going to take place. I’ve had two “helpers” back out in the last few days. No explanations, just flat-out back out or say one thing, and then say they couldn’t or wouldn’t help. I need someone to drive a 26 foot truck, so I asked the one person in my life who is a professional driver. It’s not like he has someplace to be the following day. I’d never ask someone to take off from work to help me move, but naturally, there are going to be kinks along the way. I was then left with the second task: I need to transport Cat and Kitten and all the delicate items in a separate vehicle. I legitimately need help. I can’t take them and leave them in a situation they’re not familiar with and them come back and do everything else before I have to be out, so I am frustrated and more than a little pissed off. Ultimately, I have no choice but to keep packing, but not knowing with solid certainty where I’m going due to these issues is upsetting me greatly. And yes, I have thought of so many options and no one is willing to say “I can help you out that weekend, it’s not a problem.” Mind you, they’d all come to me in a heartbeat for the smallest thing, but my asking for help is somehow wrong. Note to self: Trade family members into slavery. Buy Porsche Cayenne with the money you make from the trade. (I’m only partially kidding.)

The larger insult that I was slammed with the other day was basically being told that I don’t have enough friends. It was an incredibly rich statement based on who it came from, but it pissed me off nonetheless because it was thoughtless, insensitive, and rude. How many “friends” does one need? Do I need a fucking sorority house to satisfy someone else’s idea of how I should be, or am I good with just a few close friends?

I do not grant friendship easily. My friendship is a genuine, loyal, breathing organism. It is fully committed and quite frankly, most women don’t know how to be friends like that. I don’t need falseness in my life and I don’t need to be a joiner to be a good person and be content. Anyone who thinks I need to change the core of who I am needs to realize that Fibromyalgia is with me 24/7. Eventually, people stop asking you to do things when you can barely get out of bed and do the most basic things for yourself, so why would I want to put myself in the situation of opening up to absolute strangers who haven’t earned their place in my life? I’m a grown woman, and the last thing I need in this world is to be told how to be or that there’s something about me that needs to change because it’s imperfect. I have two words as an answer: FUCK THAT.

I am who I am. I am ENOUGH. Anyone who disagrees needs to mind their own business, keep their opinions to themselves, or get the hell out of my way.

I only apologize if I’ve truly done something wrong. Being myself is NOT wrong.

So, to the person that feels I need to be “changed”, I strongly suggest you take a good look in the mirror and change some of your own behavioral patterns. I don’t change friends daily the way you change socks, and that is a quality to be admired, not disrespected as you did. The fact that you look down upon it is quite sickening.

The cherry on top: I’ve had a migraine since yesterday afternoon. I was legitimately in bed before 4:00 PM. At some point, my body will inform me that it needs more rest and I am going to do my best to give it what it needs. Unfortunately, moving and self-care don’t exactly mesh well. 😦 I’d love to just lie in bed and read a book today or tomorrow. I am going to try to squeeze in chapters of Trigger Mortis here and there before I leave. Worst case scenario: I’m unable to finish it.

On the plus side, I am truly grateful for the people who have stepped up and assisted in both large and small ways, regardless of the miles between us. That means so much to me, to have that level of support. Sadly, I wish it was a team of ten people at the moment helping me with all this crap instead of a handful making me feel like crap.

Life, my friends, is not for the faint of heart. Treat people the way you want to be treated.