3 November 17
This page is incredibly out of date--the past seven years of my life is missing from it, but I don't particularly have the time to update it now.
Howdy, and thanks for stopping by. I'd offer you some coffee, but this is a virtual setting, so it's kinda impossible, so instead, let's visualize that we are seated at a cozy table at my favorite Starbuck's (abbreviated as "Sbux"), both of us enjoying our favorite drink and a nibble, chatting amiably.
That little bit above is called a "visualization exercise." I hold a B.F.A. in Acting from Emerson College (the single most useless degree on the planet; I like to joke that it means I'm a BIG Fucking Asshole, as so many actors are), and no matter how flip I get about it, acting--performing on stage in front of an audience--is one of my favorite things in the world to do. I love the instant feedback, the connection with people, the ability to share my ideas. This blog has grown out of that neglected need.
The past few years of my life have been incredible in terms of change and growth; on the one hand, they've been incredibly good years for me in that I've undergone a gastric bypass, lost a great deal of weight (and am still losing), and regained my physical health and stamina. I've had a lot of psychological break-throughs (and a couple of bad breaks, including two suicide attempts--one half-assed drunken one in 2007 that was a result of extreme stress and highly elevated thyroid levels; one serious one back in February of 2010 that led to a definitive diagnosis of PMDD (PreMenstrual Dysphoric Disorder--basically, PMS elevated to the 10th power) to go with my GAD (Generalize Anxiety Disorder) and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), both of which I have suffered for most of my life. Although I hate to describe myself as a "survivor" (because it's become so fucking overused, it's trite and demeaning, and because, frankly, I've gone beyond it), I have survived two rapes (both acquaintances), witnessing my mother's abuse at the hands of my father, physical abuse at the hands of my mother's father (who had Alzheimer's, undiagnosed, but who had always been physically abusive), a violent marriage, emotional abuse at the hands of several alcoholics, and a seriously dysfunctional family, particularly with my mother's generation.
My philosophy of life is that you have a choice: you can be a part of the problem, or you can be the solution. Being the solution--being the one to open your mouth and fight back, being the rock that dams the stream, being the "bicarbonate of history" to borrow Sir Terry's lovely phrase, is difficult, but in the end, it's the only choice I can make. I was raised Catholic--had 12 years of Catholic school--and quit the Church six months after graduation, when, while sitting at my grandmother's funeral, I realized I didn't believe a fucking word of it. I haven't looked back.
I practice an alternative spirituality--I believe in God, but I thought he needed some friends to help out ;-). In short, I'm a Neopagan--a hedge witch, Celtic shaman, and Voodooist. As out there as it sounds, I'm also incredibly down-to-earth, no bullshit and in your face. I accept that my spirituality is a way for me to connect with things I don't fully understand. Does magic work? Depends on what you consider magic. Prayer doesn't have the power to move mountains, but it DOES have the power to inspire people to move mountains. That's the difference, I guess--it's about practical application and focus. When I work a spell, it's with the understanding that I'm creating a focus for my energy and attention--something that will remind me of my intention, so I will focus on making it reality. Wishing gets you nowhere; hard work... hard work will get you everything. There are people who consider me to be incredibly powerful. I am, in some ways. In others... in others, well, I need help, especially when the body chemistry goes hinky and send me off the wall. (That is why the pharmeceutical companies make Xanax...half a tab and the hormone demons stop snarling.) Does God exist? I don't know; I can't prove it. I like to think there is a universal consciousness that holds everything together; not an omnipotent thing--I think that's far too unfair a burden to put on one being. Besides, I like to argue with the bastard.
On the positive side of my life, I've finished the first draft of a paranormal novel and am starting the rewrite this week (it's the week of October 4, 2010 as I write this); Book Two will be started during National Novel Writing Month in November. I've been trying to write this series for ten years; last year, it came together. I also started peforming again on stage--standup! a dream I've had since the first time I saw Robin Williams's first HBO special--and have gone back to writing comedy. I've also returned to dating with mixed results. I still don't know if I can be in a "real" relationship and keep my sanity.
On the negative side... Argh. My mother is in advanced stages of kidney disease. She has spent most of the summer of 2010 in the hospital. Our house is being foreclosed upon (she co-owns it with her younger brother) because of a mortgage he strong-armed her into five years ago. The house has been in our family for over 70 years. On the one hand, it's our family home. On the other... I'd like to take the first swing with the wrecking ball. I have responsibility for helping with her care, and it's taxing. I have also had to take action about her brother's out-of-control addictions and abusive behavior, forcing her out of denial and to accept that he cannot be allowed to harm other people.
I've also had to confront my age and my sexuality. Because of the family situation I came out of, I was completely fucked in the head when I started dating--the "if he hits you, it means he REALLY loves you" mentality that I didn't even know I had. My first boyfriend took my virginity via date rape--back in 1983, however, there was no such thing. If a girl got fucked, it was because she was asking for it. I wasn't--I said, "No, stop, I'm not ready..." and he kept going. And then he blackmailed me for almost a year because I was the top student in a small Catholic school. The next boyfriend was a submissive Vietnam vet. He told me he was 24; I was 18, fresh out of Catholic school, and totally fucking naive. He was 13 years older than I, cheating on his live-in, an alcoholic,and crazy as a shithouse rat. Next boyfriend I thought was normal; he wasn't. Next was my husband and by then, I didn't give a fuck. I was so hurt, so messed up, I would do anything, anything to get someone to love me. And I did. Years later, I have had to confront the fact that I enjoyed a LOT of it, and now, as an adult who has confronted her demons and got most of them under control, I'm trying to take back my sexuality.
As you might have figured out, my tastes aren't exactly vanilla--while I'm good with "normal" sex, I need something more from time to time, and that can be difficult to find. I'll get there. Eventually.
I also use a LOT of language--colorful and otherwise. Because I read British authors and have friends in England and Canada, I use a lot of different non-American slang. It's better than endless strings of expletives.
I'm trying to make sense of my life. This blog originally started as a way for me to vent; after another break-through, I realized that I can't just rant. It doesn't work. If you don't know how I speak, if you don't know my delivery, you won't find some of the things I say funny. (Well, there are a lot of people who will never find some of the things I say funny because they're humorless tits.) I can be exceptionally judgmental--I have no tolerance for hypocrisy, for instance, and attack hypocrites without mercy. Pedophiles... no use for 'em. Ditto for rapists, extremists, and other morons. THINK, for fuckssake! It's really not that hard!
I hope you enjoy what you read, or that it at least makes you think. Feel free to comment, to argue, to disagree--just be respectful about it.
Cheers,
Riz
