Reconciling Saints

So that's it for 2011.

If you read the posts flying about on Facebook, it seems many a soul had a horrible year and there are prayers for better in the year to come.

*shrugs*

I dunno. I had a pretty good year, all told.

What I hope for is more learning, growing and accomplishing. Oh and dreaming! I want to do more of that... and London... and Paris... Yes. That.

Happy new year friends o' mine! Try not to break yourselves tonight. I can't guarantee that I won't... 

I finished last night with a word count of 50, 080 according to the site once I uploaded my file. I'm a little impressed with myself as I'm usually a little distracted, but I stuck with what I said I was going to do.

:)

It shows me that I should stick to a schedule because it will allow me time to write, even if it's just for practice.

So, what did I win?

I won:

• a few good stories - mostly complete except for editing
• some great ideas to explore
• more proof that I can do anything once I put my mind to it
• a new schedule for my writing

First, though, I'm going to go read some books.

I've started NaNoWriMo again. This is my 3rd attempt... of which I have a 50% success rate. Lemme tell you, having to work a night job last year, my prime writing time, I totally and utterly failed!

For those of you that don't know, NaNoWriMo takes place in November. It is National Novel Writing Month. In that month, the writers who participate strive to write 50,000 words (the word count that is considered a novel) in those 30 days. The goal is to just write so as not to get caught up in all the second guessing and editing that one can get caught up in when left to one's own devices. You make that push in order to cull something, anything, out of a bunch of words that are spewed onto paper or screen.

The thinking is that in the end, you might not have a finished novel, but you'll have the good beginnings of one.

As a person who favors the short story format, this hasn't been so successful for me. The first year I tried it and determinedly made the goal, I was left with... mush. Really, I still look at it and think... that's an interesting idea... and maybe I can make a short story out of it... but not much else and definitely not a novel. This is why I think I barely even tried last year. I didn't have much direction other than the way I begin any short story I write: a simple idea that might be a paragraph... or might be a few pages.

This year I decided I'd tailor it more to my liking. I'm still pushing for 50,000 words, but I'm aiming for short stories.... 5- 10 at 10,000 to 5,000 words each to be edited after November. The key is to get any idea (10 max) out there and to crank out what could be considered a short story in that time. I like to think of it as making a collection of short stories for me to whittle down and edit.

It's working. I've given myself a daily minimum word count and as long as I can do that, I figure that I'm pretty solid. Yesterday was hard to do (maybe because it was my first day?) but today was pretty freakin' easy. I would still be writing right now if this wasn't already such a tough work week and I knew I needed my sleep after having had little of it since last Thursday... or maybe it was Wednesday... anyway, you get the picture.

I'm excited... more excited than I have been in a long time. Maybe it's because I've finally gotten how to do this on my terms, and maybe it's because I'm just doing it.

It's that time again. You know, that time when I look at my blog and I say, "Yeah, I gotta change this up a bit."

Except I'm not talking about just design, but it's a start and so I figured that's where I'd try to gather my inspiration... or at least it's a way to say that I actually did something. I went the easy route and decided that I'd throw in a template for now in an attempt to make change happen a little more rapidly. *shrugs* I like to think of it as the Bunsen burner for this solution (get it?!).

There's a lot changing and a few things that actually need to change (outside of the things changing... follow along, now!) and one of them happens to be how I use/ what I do with this little blog o'mine. I'm also trying to change my writing in that... well, I do more of it and perhaps actually get something of a routine in how often and when I write. Not doing so is driving me CRAZY!

Speaking of crazy, it seems I'm to go back on the meds. I knew it was only a matter of time before mom realized I was still outside and called me in to wash up before bed. Darn it! As the therapist said, I've had a nice little vacation, now let's get me back on something before the ground drops out from under me. Eh, things have been a bit fuzzy around the edges lately, so I guess that's about right.

Anyway, if the look of this place changes weekly, you know why. It's kinda hard to figure out what I want to do exactly and how to go about it. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears! Unless, that is, you want me to sell something for you. Sorry.

In the mean time... I'll keep the midnight oil burning in my attempts to free the people (stories) trapped in my head.

 Sometimes I need to remember things like this in order to create from where I think there's nothing left to pull from.


TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Winner of the American Book Award in 1963,
William Stafford wrote thousands of poems. The raw materials for his
often-beautiful creations were the fragments and debris of his daily
rhythm. "I have woven a parachute out of everything broken," he said in
describing his life's work. You are now in a phase when you could achieve
a comparable feat, Taurus. You have the power to turn dross into
sweetness, refuse into treasure, loss into gain.

Fear has stopped me from doing a few things in my life.

When I was a kid I remember backing out of the student council in Kindergarten (I know, right?!) because I didn't understand what was going on and because I didn't want to be singled out from the other kids. Trust me, I learned it was a dumb reason about a year or so later, mainly because I was singled out again and this time I thought, "Hang on a minute! Not being with everyone else isn't so much a bad thing."

Not being afraid of fear, conversely, has made a lot of things happen in my life that may not have happened. I like to think that my kindergarten experience has some to do with that. These, however, with the exception of a few big ones, have been small things like just allowing myself to be me and not give a damn what anyone says or thinks in order to live life the way I think I should live it.

I call them small because some big things have been placed on back burners when it comes to, oh, you know, my writing.

I was watching a rerun of an old Project Runway the other day where one of the youngest in the competition finds herself as one of the last 5 and she resigns. They showed some insights from the other designers as to what they thought of her decision and the guy who ended up winning says something like don't think that it's an easy or stupid decision for her to make because you don't know the pressure or what it's like to be here.

I could see myself, especially at her age, going right back to my kindergarten days and saying, "Get me off of this thing!" Is it a big deal? Yes. Would it, if she won or even made it to Fashion Week, change a lot things and open doors in her life? Probably, yeah.

I know it's good to know when you're in over your head for whatever reason, but enough is enough.

I feel like I can look back and see when I've quietly retreated or let the other things in my life over-run my want-to-do-s or should-be-doing-s. I really want to stop this pattern and that's why, in part, I'm seriously thinking about what to do with this little space of the internets that I call mine. At some point I have, and I feel that I do, take responsibility for where I am creatively.

Something's gotta give... and I don't feel like it should have to be my writing which means that I have to do something about that.

' "The time has come," the walrus said, "to talk of many things: of shoes and ships and sealing wax - of cabbages and kings." '
~ Lewis Carroll ~

So I came across this old favorite of mine:

I sat down to write and I thought I'd do a little mind-puking first (as one of my creative writing teachers called the process of voiding our minds of all the other "words" running around in our brain that were cluttering it up) and found this pic whilst looking for a good graphic for this post.

I found it fitting as I have sort of started to take a "Oh fuck it; let's shoot this fucker!" kinda attitude to my writing lately. So here I am for the... 50th time??.. finally sitting down to seriously get some shit out there, and no, not just on this here blog o'mine.

I think it's kinda cool when I find something inspiring again.

So I'm still thinking about changing up this place. Maybe just a new look... maybe just a place to spew... I'm not sure. I kinda got tired of this being diary-esque but I also do like a place where I can just ... talk... and keep my friends updated (when they do read it... no worries, it's not your fault).

I don't know yet. However, I do know that I want to write more although not necessarily here, but I think I will from time to time. Kinda like my "word vomitorium."

To go back to the pic, I'd like to say that it's also fitting of who I am today. I'm trying to channel all of that into my writing and by doing so, just... writing, which is doing more than I had been and trying to do something about getting it out there.

The story of all that was and what it was, i.e. my marriage to Da5id, is a hard story to write. Last weekend I was working on a memoir for a contest submission and I found it quite difficult to write. I just couldn't seem to put the story of us into words and I've been trying to figure out why. It might be because there's more to it than just my side or his side or it might be because there's no way to really quantify what we had. It existed and at times was a great love story with miracles and overcome hardships and at other times it was all heartbreak and miscommunications. Still, maybe I can't come to terms with it and perhaps that is why the writing of it was so hard.

I took on the subject because, if I were to ever write a memoir (hypothetically speaking), that part of my life is a great and vast story that did a lot in the shaping of my life, especially as it's 10 of the 35 years I've been alive.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do it and I missed the deadline. I found myself with the proper word count but no real shape to the story of it all, just a mix of points of view, ways of telling it, and what looked a lot like my "spew" on this here blog. Where, I asked myself, was the story? How do I shape it? To that, I don't think I have an answer yet.

I'm still working on it as there's next year's early deadline of February, which seems a long time away. It's possible that I'll never be content with how I tell it, what I got from it, or even be able to concisely put into words the essence of it. It might be that the story of us is much bigger than anything I can put into words... or maybe I've just had a hard time seeing the big picture. It's still something I'd like to work through in writing, though, if only just to tell this great story that I have to tell. It was and, yes, still is one of my favorite stories and I think that that comes from the joy I had of just living it.

I've said it a thousand times and I'll say it again, I love my life and if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a single thing nor would I trade it with anyone in the world.

... and talking to Tracy about my site.

Maybe it's time to clean house and redecorate.

Hmmm....

This picture struck me today. I got it from this NPR article.

Sometimes I have to remember that in the midst of all the chaos, I still love you. That's the way it should be, even when the world is falling apart around us... most likely from our own doing.

Still no at home internets, although I'm lucky enough today to have found a little bit of WiFi open today.

It's a good thing that they aren't working, really, as this makes it easy for me not to post anything dumb and makes it so that I don't have to lock down the blog again for fear of what I may vent.

I've hit a bit of a depression pocket and I'm trying to work through it, but it's done little for my writing as I end up going in circles over a current situation and a variation on one of my favorite stories. I know. The depression should technically help with my writing, but currently it's just making my head spin and it comes off as... formless. Dunno how else to put it.

I have a need to work on things, though, and lately I've been working on everything but my writing.

Thought I'd keep you guys posted. Chloé, I still owe you a letter.

So I'm currently writing from work.

Life is strange. I'm living in Lexington, KY.

annnnddddd because you've all been good kids and I've been bad about the posting like I said I would, here's some ear candy. The top 2 songs I played today!

I remembered how to breath the other day.

I was worried about getting a call back for an interview, doubting myself and my abilities. My head was going negative about what I can or cannot do, and then... I didn't care. I stopped worrying and I started breathing. With every breath I put it all out there to the universe, just laid it all out. I will or I won't get a call back, I might get hired full time at the current position or I might not. Breathe in, breathe out.

I stopped caring. Not in a negative. I just... let go... and I felt calmer, I felt ok.

Then you know what happened? I got another call saying that they were going to be scheduling appts. for next week and I should get a call back then.

See? It's ok to let go, it's ok to surrender and just breathe. Life is easy... it's like a heart beat... it's like breathing. The trick, as Ms. Shirley Manson said, is to keep breathing. Just live.

Life is good in the in- betweens of what we worry about and what we want. Sometimes we forget to live it because we're too busy worrying or wanting. This is it folks, so do it. There's no later... just now. *shrugs*

So I leave you with the words of the late great, albeit stupid, Jim Hanson:
"Life's like a movie
Write your own ending
Keep believing
Keep pretending
We did just what we set out to do..."

I hate it.

Do you think that it's possible to live in a place that's mostly cold? Like... REALLY cold???? That's sounding like heaven to me. It's not like that I don't like being warm nor does it mean that I don't a appreciate that crisp day where the sun keeps you nice and warm and the winds tease you in the shadows. No... those days I can stand the heat/ sun.

I digress...

Here's my problem: I don't know how to deal with the sun.

I overheat, feel horrible, cannot do anymore than turn into a little pool of Ceci. I also feel uncomfortable in my clothes and forget wearing anything that's office appropriate! My face just shiny, I sweat easily and my hair does that thing that only curly hair can... and that is be completely unruly. In short, I look and feel terrible! A red face is not pretty, especially when it's all shiny and shit. Sweaty clothes... also not attractive, not to mention that I can get a little stinky. What can I say, it's genetics. *shrugs*

I HATE this! This... and the fact that I burn easily... is why I hate the sun. It does horrible things to me, I never look good and I feel miserable. There!

I sometimes wonder if it's because I'm just not very good at being a girl. I don't know how to get my hair to not do the unruly thing. I had hoped that with it shorter, I would be able to get it under control a little more, but now it just does this Clark Kent thing and I end up looking like a soccer mom who has been running after her kids all day... and more in a "I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you once I catch you" kinda way.

*sigh *

Help! ... or I'm gonna end up living in Iceland for the rest of my life... Which would help my allergies, I'm sure but that's another gripe all together.

*hangs head*
Shoot me now.

Tracy pointed out that, for being so happy with me these days, I don't look so happy in the pic. That had a lot to do with the fact that Itook many with me smiling, but they all came out blurry. As a result. the last one taken had a frustrated-with-taking-pictures-and-tired-of-fake-smiling look. So here's a new one.


ANYWAY!

Here's some stuff that Nikki found when she was "stumbling" along on the internet. I helped! Well, I was stumbling along with her as I sat by.

First there's Irina Werning's page . She does what she's titled "Back to the Future" where she takes old photos from when the person's younger and has them duplicate the pose as they are now. Awesome!

Then there's this jpg we found:
Double awesome.

I was looking in the mirror today and thought... "Wow! I've changed!" Not in a bad way, mind you, just in a "time marches on" sorter sense I guess. So I've decided to do a little "Ceci Throughout the Years" post here and put up some pictures.

Currently, I'm quite happy with the me of now. I like the way I look and feel. In fact, I feel like I'm the very me I've always wanted to be. My hair is short and, in my opinion, looks cute. I've tattoos and piercings I've always wanted to get. I'm in total control of being and looking like the Ceci I've always thought would be a perfect... Ceci!

I'm also in awe of the fact that I feel small. I'm not small, per se... but I'm the smallest I've been since high school and I actually feel small. I even feel small with Stephen, which, can be difficult when he's so thin, and yet I do... I feel small.

Any way... here's Ceci: now and then.





Today


A couple months ago


2009


2008


2007


2007

2005-ish I believe.


2004


2003

... because it's appropriate for today.


*Special thanks to Tracy for bringing this song back onto my radar.


Also, thank you to Señor London for helping me find where the Keyboard viewer is. It's helping A LOT*!


*not to be confused with the Alot

First news: I was laid off. Yep, ladies and gents, my assignment at Amazon.com came to an end as of Thursday. Am I ok? Yes. I had a bit of panic there, still I can't help but be optimistic. Dunno why, but I'm all for it.

With that said, I'm working on trying to use more of my time to write and take part in other endeavors that will lead me down a more creative path. I guess, I'm just trying to free myself from the rut that I feel I got stuck in after working so many hours at work. Having the time isn't enough, I feel like I really have to try for it because it's too easy to let the "free time" waste away on other things.

I feel a bit out of touch with a lot of my friends, but most times I think that this has to do with bipolar issues I have to battle for life. I'm trying, guys. I know I just have to keep in touch with the lot of you, but it's not always easy. Sometimes the monsters in my head outnumber the reality. I'm fighting it, bit by bit. I'm trying to update this blog at least once a week in order to stop feeling like a recluse and at least keep a line open to everyone in how and what I'm doing.

Side note to anyone that gets my posts emailed to them: if you're going to respond, please respond on the blog and not to the email. For some reason the email isn't coming to me directly anymore so I have to go in and fix that so that I can get those responses again. In the meantime, if you have responded to me and I've not answered, that's probably why.

I know this isn't much of a post, but I just wanted to bring everyone up to speed.

I tremble.
They're going to eat me alive
If I stumble....
Help I'm Alive.
Metric

<3
_c_

It's 1:30 am and I'm ready to blow up! I don't know why, but I am. I'd also like to point out that I can't use my return key because I spilled wine on that section of my keyboard. Yay. So this will all be one long paragraph. I'm trying to write and I can't because the lack of the return key and the semicolon and colon and the letter "p" have made it difficult to do so. I persist with the use of copy and past. Apparently the backslash doesn't work either. I'm trying guys... really trying. I think, however, I might have to go old school here and just work with phone, letters, and journals. Ugh. This sucks.

Here's where I am.

Now that the work schedule has calmed down and I'm back to 8 hours a day, it seems that depression is rearing it's ugly head. The swinging door of bipolar, folks, has swung that-a-way. I'm trying hard to fight it, but it's worst when trying to get out of bed.

Let's take an overall view of she.

I'm working at amazon.com making "eh" money that's just paying the bills and buying essentials. That's ok for now. My allergies are bad off due to said job as I work in a rather dusty environment and the eyes HATE IT, especially given the fact that of my arsenal of 4 allergy meds I usually take, I can only get my hands on one of them. I'm taking many steps to combat the allergies in lieu of medication such as constantly cleaning and being careful with how long my contacts are in, lots of washing of clothing and things I come in contact with, etc. So far the allergies are winning.

I've broken my glasses, which doesn't help with the allergy issue because this means that I have to wear contacts, which exacerbate the affect of the allergies on my eyes. Feh! See above on what I'm doing about that.

HOWEVER! ... However, I'm still fighting and I'm still, for the most part, happy.

I know that creativity helps and is also a great way to channel my depression. Tracy likes to remind me of this when I talk about it. Last night Stephen and I decided to collaborate on a longtime idea he's had to make a zine combining my lyrics with his stories, working on the layout of it, etc. That's project one to work on. I'm also working on a story or two for a contest I keep wanting to enter for the Bridport Prize. Today I started outlining a story idea for that and I'm also trying to think of another just 'cause.

This leaves me feeling more accomplished which is why currently you are getting an update that's more positive than negative. Mind you, it also helps when I make a sort of "list" like this so that I can take note of the positive vs. the negative.

If anyone wants to work on anything, would like a story or to collaborate on something with me, let me know!(Krist, I've noticed your blog URL on my wall on FB and I haven't peaked yet, but it made me think of our efforts before and if you need any contributions for anything you might be working on, email/ call/ message me.)

I have more tattoos than I used to and I like that. Stephen and I are working more of them. Honestly, I've always liked/ wanted them, but just couldn't do them before money wise and there's always the "What should my first tattoo be?" hill that one has to get over. Now, the game is ON!

When I moved here I weighed about 160-165. Currently I'm tipping the scales at 140-145 which is even less than what I thought was my "feel right in my own skin" weight. At first I was worried, but I've come to realize that this IS me. I feel absolutely me in my skin and hair and age and..... everything. I think this is great, as, honestly... I don't think I've ever felt better as me in my life.

I like Ceci... no... I love Ceci! I really think I've got something here.

Lastly, but never least, Stephen. Things are great. I couldn't ask for a better partner in crime. We seem to know how to offset the other's bad times, we communicate and we come up with alllll sorts of amusing things to do with little money... even if it's just stay at home and have sex! Honestly, I think he helps me be the best me I can be... and the proof is all that I feel, say, write and do.

"Like hell we are anxiously waiting
Like hell burning silently strong
Somehow we fell down by the wayside
And somehow this hell is home "
Burn
~Alkaline Trio~

Sometimes I feel like I'm here... at your feet.

I know I'm stronger and I know I value myself more, but I can't always feel like the great one that I am.

Sometimes all I want to do is see you smile... back track where the conversation veered off and caused a big huff of silence that now sits loudly in the room.

I have issues with this because my fighting me says that this is not the way it should be. I should not have to kowtow to you. The fighter is mostly right... but in everything one needs to learn humility... as well as the possibility that one may be wrong.

Sometimes I feel like I am groveling at your feet and the fighter in me says, "Fuck this! I never need this!" Times like that, I remember that I can survive alone out of stubbornness, and it sorter scares me.

Sometimes I feel like we're both naked children, lying on the floor hoping that one picks the other up. Times like that... I need to remember that that is most likely the truth.

This has been true in many relationships and, it seems, will always be true in all relationships. I just have to remember that the fighter can blow things out of proportion and that, at all times, no one is doing any groveling whatsoever. We're both just trying to be heard... even in the silence.

Last night I dreamt of death.

I still had the taste on my tongue upon waking up a few moments ago and so sure was I of it that I wasn't scared and it just was the ever present fact.

I had been running away when I saw him approaching from a field towards the door I stood at of what I knew as my home. I tried to outrun her by taking off into the field, but even my neighbor who watched death approach me, told me I could not outrun him.

"He's right," said death calmly, still approaching me by only walking yet getting so much closer to my running self.

I gave in, allowing the inevitable to sink in. I let death touch me, overtake me and I sank down to the grass knowing that was all and that she was gone. I floated in a sort of half state both staring and walking around the things around my home.

I was dressed in Victorian garb and it all seemed so natural. I got up and walked around gardens and forests and thought, "I am dying; I am dead."

Then, as though allowed a short reprieve to get things in order, I was alive again, knowing that when they finally found that girl in the field, found my body, they would know that I was dead.

I went back to the door to my home and saw my family. I kissed my mother and I looked through my things, deciding what I wanted with me when I died. I pointed things out to my little brother that I wanted him to have or to remember about me. He who was a boy again in my dream and quite affectionate to me. I talked to my sister about the things that I especially liked about ornaments we had made. Oddly, my family in my dream was very creative. I don't mean that they aren't now... they are, they just do nothing with it. In my dream we created things, wrote songs and sang them, encouraged each other in our mediums of art. Basically we were everything we are underneath but nothing that we do in reality.

I remember thinking of my husband. I felt a tinge of sadness, but nothing more for I remembered the last cold sleepless nights where we may have shared a bed, but for little more than rest. I knew he would be ok. I looked through my things at our apartment, again more arts and crafts. I looked at the history I had written about Anne Shirley who, in my dream, had been a closeted lesbian but had died in her lovers' arms. I gave instruction to my sister... or perhaps it was a friend?... that it was as well written as it would be and completely comprehensive. I think it was Amander that I talked to later as to what I had found regarding her life; that she had left her husband and who her lover had been, how they met and how she had broken the heart of a scholar that was also doing research on her work/ writings who became enamoured by her and so had to leave his research unfinished because he didn't want her truth.

All the while I knew that the girl was in the field waiting to be found. The girl was no longer me, just my body, just the thing that would set off the beginning of my death.

I was scared a bit, wondering if perhaps I'd gone down that road too early, had chosen death before I should have. Nothing I could do about it, really, and in hindsight, there really had been no escape. I was excited about where this new adventure would lead but the fear always touched me because I had to go away from everything I had known and loved.

I was frantically going around trying to leave bits for the people I loved. This story here for so and so, that favorite collage there for another, etc., leaving pieces of me so everyone could remember me by and through these specific things know that I loved them and that I was ok. Everyone was thought of dearly in this time.

I wondered what would happen when they found me, saw them starting the events that would lead them to my body (which I knew would happen by the end of that night). I felt like I was peeking around a corner watching them, seeing what the reaction would be when they found me. I knew I couldn't see this and I knew that I wouldn't be able to, try as I might. I knew they would be horribly sad, but I was hoping to show them that I was happy and I had been ready.

I was hungry and I went in search of something I was craving. I don't remember what it was, but I remember having a bit of that before I wanted something else. Once I had the next thing I wanted a third and that's when I knew that it had begun. I was instinctively having a last super, you might say, eating bits of all my favorite things and not getting full. That was when I knew I had to find Stephen...

Then I woke up.

My first thoughts this morning were that death was with me and I had chosen it. My second thoughts were of how peaceful I felt and how I had never felt so sure of the beauty and creativity around me. My third thought was that I needed to tell Tracy my dream and ask her what the hell it meant. Next, I thought of all the things I had done in my dream (the songs, the crafts, the writing, etc.) and I thought that these were things that I needed to bring into the forefront of my life. Perhaps the death of the old me was a reminder that these are the things I'm destined to do in my life RIGHT NOW!

I got a sense that this author needed to leave her things that showed the people I love that I love them. My art is my gift to those I love, that is what will remain here to remind them.

Mainly, when I woke up dead this morning, I felt like an author who would go on to show the world posthumously all my great work... finally.