Fog

2015-11-052015-11-05 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Compassion, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Poor Communication Skills, Stress, Writing

When I went to bed this morning, the fog was pretty dense behind my house. It rolled in out of nowhere. I think it’s a metaphor for what I am going through at the moment. “It happened out of nowhere.” Yeah, that sounds about right.

I feel nothing. I’m an ocean-cleansed shell. For almost two weeks now, I’ve continued to say “I’m fine.” I’ve probably been saying that for longer than I realize. “I’m okay” or “I’m fine” are often the truth, but sometimes it’s me dismissing myself when I shouldn’t. I didn’t have to pay someone to tell me that in therapy either, I am working it out on my own.

Today is “Surgical Thursday”, and I feel NOTHING. When someone takes their anger, frustration, and fear out on you systematically over the course of several days, weeks, months, years, etc., you slowly lose the ability to give a shit. You might very well care, but today, I’m choosing not to invest emotion into what is happening.

My dear Uncle used to say “It is what it is.” I’d like to interpret that as “Let it go.” It’s much like Glinda, the Good Witch of the North saying “You have no power here. Be gone, before someone drops a house on you!”

Today, I am going to do my level best to focus on things I neglected yesterday. I am tired of being on the phone for hours, of texting until my fingers ache, and of updating people when it’s not my responsibility to do so.

I politely asked my brother to have the surgeon call me after the procedure is over (he is the last surgery of the day, so I wasn’t asking for a miracle. It is commonplace for a surgeon to call the family if they cannot be present or speak to the family if they’re in the surgical waiting room.), so I’d know how it went. He dismissed me and said he’d call me himself. I think he’s over-reaching his expectations on that level. The kid thinks I’m going to be his caretaker/caregiver for many months of recovery. He’s wrong. Disrespect me once; shame on you. Disrespect me twice and you can go fuck yourself. When I hang up on a person twice in one day, it’s not because they’ve been polite and kind, it’s likely because they’ve been an asshole.

When I spoke to Case Study #2 last night, I vocalized this and he said “Then you don’t have to. You’re not obligated to take care of anyone who cannot see all the good that you do. You don’t need to be abused for caring and showing compassion. If someone cannot clearly see you, then they do not deserve you.” You might very well know all of that inside your soul, but having that reaffirmed by someone, at times, is quite gratifying. Everyone else has told me “You’re exhausted, you need to eat and take care of you.”, but no one was willing to address the fact that I don’t deserve hostility. I only have so much compassion before I shut down and say “Enough.”

Concern and compassion don’t come from selfish, self-serving places. They come from a place of genuineness. If someone repeatedly shows you that they do not respect that, or you, it’s perfectly fine to say “Fuck off!” (Or whatever you, personally, prefer to say.)

And so my day begins… There is writing to be done and creativity to unleash. Here’s hoping it is a productive day for one and all. If you are participating in NaNoWriMo, I wish you oodles of good luck. 🙂

Personally, I’m certain that over a hundred thousand quality words come out of my mouth on a daily basis, but that doesn’t mean they’re there for free. 😉

Sleep Deprived

2015-11-03 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep Deprivation, Writing

I spent Sunday running on less than three hours of sleep. As you can imagine, it was an incredibly long day. I pushed myself to go to the hospital. I was surprised I wasn’t in and out in twenty minutes, as hospitals are more than a little traumatic for me. I managed to stay for quite a while. It was, quite possibly, a first. It might have been because the CICU rooms are private (another first), it might have been because it’s practically empty in there (It might very well have been the quietest hospital I’ve ever been to.), or it might have simply been a week’s worth of stress and concern relieved, to some extent, when I saw that there weren’t fifteen different contraptions hooked up to one person. Normally when I see that, I never see the person alive again. In fact, my brother has already informed all of the surgeons, doctors, and nurses NOT to allow me in if he’s hooked up to a multitude of devices. He’s afraid I’ll lose it.

As of yesterday, my brother is stable, but they’re trying to adjust his medication because he is losing electrolytes at a rapid pace, which is based solely on the medication he is receiving. Tests are being run in earnest so that they can move forward with surgery. Initially it was scheduled for this morning, but late yesterday afternoon a doctor came in and told him it was canceled so they can monitor him for several more days and adjust his medication before moving forward. That information was jarring. First he told me “Surgery is at 7:00 tomorrow morning.” and a few hours later he tells me it’s been canceled and explains why. I went through a myriad of emotions that were quite exhausting. Now obviously, this isn’t about me, but I am still greatly affected. His mood is better, and he was really happy to see me. He said it gave him strength to face what is coming.

Now that I know the direction they’re taking, I realize how sleep deprived I am from last week, and in general. I grocery shopped Sunday afternoon like a staggering zombie. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was buying, either. I saw a list in front of me and I got most of what was on the list (I still have to go back in a few days and get everything I couldn’t handle in the moment.), which I realized yesterday morning, but I was truly not functioning on all cylinders. I’m so stressed that I require reminders to eat, or I’ll simply feed Cat and Kitten and ignore my own body’s needs.

Cats aren’t on Daylight Saving Time, which is an adjustment for us humans. They’re waking me incredibly early (two hours or so earlier than normal.) to be fed, they’re asking for “dinner” at 3:00 in the afternoon, and Cat likes to screw with me by walking away from her food at least once a day. She patiently waits for me to “serve” them and then runs and hides as I try to scoop her up and put her in front of her plate. I can only catch her if she wants to be caught. She’ll wait a few hours and then roll a ball into my room while I work or drop a toy at the door. She’ll stare at me with her big, gold eyes and implore me to understand that I need to stay with her while she eats, that she requires protection from “the little one”. I picked Kitten up the other day to let her know her behavior was unacceptable and inform her that she’d already eaten and needs to leave her sister alone so that she can eat her own food in peace. She’s not “little” any more. The kitten behavior remains in her energy, curiosity, affection, and sweetness, but she felt like a small sack of potatoes. She could easily pass for a small turkey if she sits the right way and yet I will probably learn in a few months when she gets her shots that she’s about ten pounds. That’s the normal weight and size she should be for now. Her energy and weight will adjust and she’ll either remain the same weight or lose a pound or two. Torties are like thoroughbred horses (some, not all). Their running, jumping, troublesome, adventurous natures do not stop as they get older. Their personalities are more human, but they seem to take the whole “nine lives” thing seriously and do their level best to test them out. You either have a stroke watching this behavior or you get used to it. I try not to react too much since she is my second Tortie. Surprisingly, they are quite similar in many ways.

This week, despite only being Tuesday, feels like a cosmic joke. I write, I take care of normal things, but I’m not truly present in any way. There are always e-mails, phone calls, and texts at the moment. There are friends and family overseas that are deeply concerned and feeling guilty that they’re not present. I did not tell a lot of family members because it was against my brother’s express wishes and quite frankly, they don’t need to know. If people don’t care about you year-round, then they should not be allowed to lap up your pain and misery simply because it makes them feel superior in some way. I don’t understand people like that. I don’t find anyone’s pain amusing. I still have compassion. And sadly, if any of these people needed me, I’m not 100% sure I’d make myself available any more. The people who are always there for me know my heart and they know I’d take a bullet for them, but anyone that cannot stand by me in good and bad times, whether we are blood-related or not, needs to fuck off.

I’m not very receptive to excuses. In life and death matters, people should be present. My Aunt told me her children (my first cousins, all of whom should know better, but apparently my brother & I are the only ones that inherited brains.) didn’t attend my parent’s funerals because their children were sick. We’re not talking about infants, so my thought process was “Then ask a neighbor, a friend, or a fucking babysitter to watch them for two hours. You do NOT pretend like your Uncle and Aunt didn’t pass away, and by all that is holy, do NOT show up a year later and pretend like I am going to accept your presence as acceptable behavior.” If I don’t go to a funeral, it is probably because I wasn’t given enough notice, not because I am being disrespectful. You don’t ask a third-party to e-mail me about a funeral. That’s not how you do things like that. And if you do, screw you, I won’t be there.

My brother isn’t as fierce as I am. If a person doesn’t call or visit him in the hospital, he doesn’t take it personally. He told me last night that only a handful of people matter, and that I’m the one who matters the most, no one else. Even still, it makes me angry that the people who should be supporting him are not. You definitely see people’s true colors during hard times, but the truth is much more easily faked during good times. I don’t respond well to that. I know when people aren’t being genuine. There’s a huge difference between being nosy and legitimately caring about another person’s well-being.

And so, I have reached a “point of no return”. I’d rather cut the herd now, as opposed to continue dealing with fake crap. There are a few people who are about to be torn new assholes, and quite frankly, it doesn’t bother me in the least. No one deserves to deal with people who spew crap out of two different ends. No one.

I know many of you can relate to the family and friend dynamics I am talking about. It’s disgusting, but I think overall, we are all better off cutting people out that are cancers in our lives.

Family First

2015-10-282015-10-28 Miss Poison Anger, Family, Health, Heart, Honesty, Life, October, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Anger, Family, Friends, Health, Heart Failure, Honesty, Love, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Siblings, Writing

Yesterday morning my brother was admitted into the hospital with what is, as of now, a form of heart failure. The doctors are baffled; stating that they don’t know how this happened because he is far too young. Unfortunately, he is far from being out of the woods. He is scheduled for a serious procedure today, and I am sadly all too familiar with it.

My original post probably won’t go up today because I’m sitting here speechless, sick to my stomach. I have words, there are things I want to say, but I feel the need to keep it inside for now.

I don’t talk about my personal life an awful lot, and there’s a reason for that. Most of you that know me off of this page are my friends in everyday life. You have the ability to call me, e-mail me, text, or visit, etc. But for those that do not personally know me, my heart, or the deeper aspects of my life, I tend to keep those things to myself. There’s plenty of people telling their life stories on blogs, but this is not a blog for me; it is my platform as a writer. I am a writer, I have been for 28 years. I’m not a blogger, at least not here, but perhaps that is just semantics for some people. I, however, stand by those words.

This week, I worry (It’s a Jewish woman thing.). I will try to push past the pit of hell inside my stomach. I pray for healing, for modern medicine to do what it’s supposed to do. I pray that some dietary changes reverse this, as a doctor told him it could/would, with some serious effort on his part, but only if it’s a specific type of heart failure.

The words “Life Vest” were used. That kind of technology did not exist when a doctor wanted to crack open my mother’s chest ten years ago and attach a defibrillator to her heart. Her doctor was over 80 (I wanted to punch this man at least three times, but it would have been disrespectful. I told her if he’d been 60, I’d have knocked his teeth out.), did not care to explain the procedure in a gentle manner, and was so rude that he only managed to turn the issue into a “Hell no!”, as opposed to “Can we discuss this?” Everything is being thoroughly explained to my brother, and for that I am grateful. He’s also smart enough to ask questions that other people might not think of and then discuss his options with me, that way there’s a proactive person involved in his recovery.

I know that many of you will understand if I am silent for a while; that family comes first. Today, and maybe most days, I am my Grandmother’s granddaughter. I do put my family first, but I am not afraid to handle the tough stuff. That’s why during the worst times in my life, I handle what needs to be handled, even if I’m not happy about doing it. Even if it breaks me.

Lack of a family unit has really bothered me these last few years. As I sat here yesterday making calls, I realized that about a dozen people did not need to be called, because they don’t give a fuck on a good day, and I will not give them the satisfaction of lapping up misery. I appreciate the people who offered up prayers, but I very nearly told someone off who made an off-hand comment without knowing precisely what is wrong. I had to take a huge step back, realizing that I’m emotional and snapping when you’re upset is not conducive to quality communication with others.

It would be hard not to be upset, angry (because I have tried for YEARS to take every bad thing out of his hands when I knew it was being over-done.), frustrated, and scared. I wouldn’t be human if I felt nothing. But I do feel, and I pray that this procedure holds answers as to the how and why. I pray to all that is holy that this is merely a bump in the long road of life. I pray that my brother sees the error of his ways, realizes he is being given a second chance, and takes that opportunity instead of squandering his brilliant mind.

I thank the doctors and nurses caring for him and the four different people who stopped him from an attempt to sneak into the parking lot for a cigarette! I’m embarrassed he’d stoop so low. They all yelled at him (His words were “They bitched me out!” I said nothing, because I feel he deserved it.), and he was later given a patch, so I am praying this is the end to me saying “You need to quit smoking before it kills you.” My brother may not be receptive to my direct honesty, but he’s taking it from doctors and nurses and I think that in and of itself is a positive thing.

I hope I’ll be able to say something more definitive in the next few days. In the meantime, I’m packing and trying to do all that I can for my brother. Because no matter how big a pain in the ass he is, and my GOD, I swear I inherited a big baby, he’s still MY brother. No one else alive can say that, and I told him the same thing. “No one else alive can say that I am their sister, so stop acting like no one cares about you.” I yell because I care, so when I stop yelling, he’d better start worrying.

As of now, I do not know with any certainty whether his medical expenses will be completely covered. If they aren’t, I will be posting a link at a later date to a fundraiser where even the smallest donation will help, but I will only do so if there’s a huge issue.

Thank you for listening to my insanity this morning. Have a good Wednesday, everyone. 🙂

You Better Have Some Skills…

Quote 2015-10-15 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Quotes Bryant McGill, Honesty, Quotes

“You better have some skills in this world. You better bring something to the dinner party, or you will be the dinner. You will either have value or be grist for the mill — nothing more. I know it seems so unfair. I didn’t make the rules. The truth is that the world doesn’t have much use or respect for “do nothing” people. Can you really blame them? Take some pride in yourself. Get to work. Read everything you can get your hands on. Acquire several skills and find at least one that you can master, and that earns you respect. Let your skills do the talking. Get determined. This world is bursting with opportunity. Maybe it’s time you reinvent yourself and try again. Get going. Don’t cheat the world or yourself of what you have to offer. You must cultivate value within yourself if you want to move forward. If you feel trapped, quit thinking about the trap and start thinking about your value. Life favors value. Value is your way out.

Do you want to prosper? What do you give the world? Do you want to flourish in the garden of life? Life’s gardeners pluck the weeds and care only for the productive plants. The quality of your life hinges on your attitudes and offerings. Become a gift in the lives of others, and you will always be well received. If you want more opportunities you have to become an opportunity for others. As you advance yourself your opportunities advance too. It’s so simple. Get to work on yourself. The harder you work on yourself the more the external things you couldn’t change will change on their own. Cultivating your value proposition in life is the way to move forward. You are the raw material of your own destiny.” -Bryant McGill

Oh…

Quote 2015-10-122015-10-11 Miss Poison Quotes Honesty, Hubert Humphrey, Quotes

“Oh, my friend, it’s not what they take away from you that counts. It’s what you do with what you have left.” -Hubert Humphrey

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.

“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.

The Most Important Things

Quote 2015-10-05 Miss Poison Honesty, Inspiration, Quotes Honesty, Quotes, Stephen King

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them —words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within. Not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear. —Stephen King