The Return To Innocence

The commencement speaker at my college graduation in 2001 was Mr. James Earl Jones. He didn't need the microphone. He finished his speech in a booming voice with "And may the Force be with you!" (which caused everyone to stand up and roar). I think I actually like Neil Gaiman's speech slightly better. It's probably a tie.
https://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/127838

It would appear that Luna has formed some rules that must be followed on pain of annoying cat.

1. You shall not brush any hair before mine; nor doll nor human.
2: You shall pay attention to me the instant you enter a room that I currently occupy.
3. When I speak, you shall love, cuddle, kiss, and pet me until I am done with you.
4. I own all the couches.
5. I own all your laps.
6. You will endure my licking of your skin and you shall not force me to stop.
7. Honor your queen, the cat you name Luna.
8. Know that I, the Luna, am beautiful and smart and I am a very good kitty.
9. I am better than your other cats, and don't you forget it.
10. Feed me.

My lunch is a blueberry wheat bagel spread with strawberry preserve and Gourmet Triple Cream Cheese; I think the cheese is St. Andre. This is really really delicious.

Ever since I got my current Pony dolls (G4 Fluttershy and Twilight Sparkle, G3 Garden Wishes renamed Lotus Star), the sound of a brush or comb moving through hair will instantly cause Luna to come running, even if she is asleep. Now, when I brush my own hair, Luna will run and leap onto the couch, settle in my lap, and demand that I stop wasting time and precious brushing energy on anything but her fur. Oh my Luna, you ridiculous precious darling, I adore you.

According to this link, I could be Deep Autumn, Soft Autumn, Deep Winter, or Clear Spring. Or all of them. Damn it, I don't even know. I'm the child of two artists and my mother worked in fashion illustration; color has been in my life forever. I stared at myself in the mirror for ten minutes, I stared at my gold and silver jewelry, I stared into my t-shirt drawers, and I still can't figure it out.
All I know is: my foundation and concealer needs to be neutral to warm with absolutely no pink; I can't wear orange or coral or purple based lipcolor; I can't wear light or medium green eyeshadow; when I wear silver the silver stands out and when I wear gold my skin stands out; my very pale skin burns then tans like bronze in summer and is pure snow white in winter; my veins are blue-green; my ethnicity is a mix of Sicily, Greece, Russia, Hungary, Romania, Bessarabia, and Ashkenazi Jew; and I look best with dark hair of any shade. I have just confused myself greatly.
http://personalitycafe.com/general-chat/37461-what-your-color-season-spring-summer-autumn-winter-fun.html

It needs to start raining already. Everything is hanging in the sky, waiting, and it's making my everything hurt again and still and blah.

I am truly trying to remind myself that I am a strong, amazing, wonderful person and woman, so this is a reminder.

Last night around 1:30 AM, a migraine struck on top of neck and shoulder spasms, and it was so bad that I took a codeine, considered a second codeine half an hour later, and tossed around in bed wondering if I should go back to sleep or not, in case I didn't wake up. It's a scary thing to think about when alone at night. I wound up waking up at 7:30, unable to go back to sleep, so I took guarana and my morning medicines and readied myself for a long pain-filled day. Yay!

Migraine and spastic tension still happening. To make myself feel better, I applied bright makeup - silver periwinkle eyeshadow, delicious apple red lipstick. The concealer with sunblock is fighting the dark undereye circles as best it can. My new gold mocha haircolor is still awesome. I don't feel awesome, in fact the exact opposite of awesome, but maybe the pale blue tee, silver pentacle ring, copper dark teal kyanite ring, lemon amber bracelet, and selenite kyanite copper pendant will help me feel maybe twenty percent cooler (and I thought I couldn't relate to Rainbow Dash).

Also:
http://web.mit.edu/london/www/magnesium.html
http://www.jashbotanicals.com/articles/silica_and_your_body.html
Dear Self: Duh. You're supposed to know this. Go take two pills of magnesium and two pills of bamboo silica, massage your head, and let Luna purr in your face. Also, remember that using Jupiter as a pillow results in him purring like white noise, which helps with the migraines and neck tensions. La!

Also, when I woke up this morning on my back, Rose was sitting meatloaf style on me, purring, licking my nose and mouth, watching me carefully. I had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, but when your first sight upon waking is a pair of glittering gold feline eyes, sometimes you think thoughts about the animal kingdom that are best left to nature documentaries about the wild.

I originally put these status posts on Facebook, but since this is a journal that I use for journaling when I am thinking thoughts to think about, I'm copying it here.

***
6:45 PM:
I am currently in so much fucking pain everywhere that it hurts to do anything. I feel like my brain is exploding, and my body temperature is going insane; and every muscle, nerve, tendon, ligament, and joint wants to stab each other while horror movie music plays loudly in my screaming mind. I tried to write Stories. It did not go well. My writerbrain wanted to Kill Everyone and that would have been bad. I have been typing glacially with two fingers. I called the disability lawyer's office so they could make a note and I cried, and the assistant was wonderful. She told me to rest and breathe. I will go lie down now. If anyone wants to talk to me, they will have to call. My hands hurt too much to type anything beyond this. But I am typing it because I know people love me and I want to tell them that I will be okay slowly.

8:45 PM:
I am okay now.
I took a nap with all three cats, and then I got up and now I am watching ponies and while I am still in the flare, I feel slightly better.
A dear friend gave me some of the best advice I have ever gotten: There is always strength left for one more step. My body will collapse and fall, and that's okay. I will get back up and keep going. My mind is a powerful thing and I am full of an amazing strength. I will always be able to take just one more step.
I will take a hot shower soon, and watch more Ponies and also Futurama, because my brain always feels better when I do that. Also there is a purring Luna cat on my lap.
So I have a little more strength now. And I will have a little more strength later. And so on. One more step.
Also, my hair is fabulous.

10:45 PM:
Right now, all I can think is "I can't do this I can't fucking do this it hurts so much I am in so much fucking pain I can't do this it has to stop why won't it stop I can't do this" but I know that's just the mental stuff, the emotional stuff, the psychological stuff.
So right now, all I can do is stand up and walk around the house even as every muscle spasms and every nerve burns and every joint cracks and my skin feels too tight and my head pounds and the world spins. I stand up, I walk, I move, I keep going. One more step. One more step. Just one more step, every single time, just one more step.
Also, the cats keep wanting me to follow them and play, and I do what my cats say because they own me.
***

I also wound up taking another dose of Soma, because holy shit it was needed. It's the best thing I have next to codeine, but codeine won't relax muscles; and Soma does a hat trick wherein it relieves the worst of my pain, relaxes the most spastic of my muscles, and enhances my mood if the pain is depressing me. I don't take it every day, but there are times when I need more than two pills per day just to keep from screaming. Also, the Flexeril and Klonopin help a little, depending on what my body is doing. Ah, chronic pain and compound medication.

Occasionally, I'll sing Pinkie Pie songs to myself, in slow whispers, just to keep the levels of dopamine and serotonin and epinephrine elevated so the endorphins will do things. Sometimes it works.

http://ursulav.livejournal.com/1495823.html (On Editing)
Something to come back to, when stuff actually needs professional editing, when I finish said stuff, which is right now scary to think about but that's probably because I'm still post-ictal from Friday's seizure, full of anxiety and some depression, worried that nobody will like my stories or plots or characters or worlds etcetera. Ah, creative insecurity.

Anyway.
Tomorrow, May 22 2012, is the seventh anniversary of my wedding to Adam. Neither of us wants to remember much about the actual day, because it causes some anxiety and facial tics and eye twitching (his mother seized too much control and rumors were spreading that people didn't like me and also I never actually got the wedding I truly wanted due to Reasons beyond my control or choice), but whatever. We got married. It is seven years later, and we can always renew the vows in true wacky weird eclectic pagan fashion.
Adam is currently in Texas working on a trade show, setting up IT/AV equipment, and then he's off to Las Vegas to do the same thing for another trade show, so he won't be home until Thursday, or after midnight Wednesday/Thursday. He'd had an option of coming home tonight for the anniversary but then he would have had to fly back to Vegas on Wednesday, and I said that was ridiculous and he should just stay in the area until it was time to come home. That option would mean he would get the rest of the week off and we could celebrate the anniversary over multiple days. Winning.

Today was... exhausting. It rained constantly, my everything hurt like hell, I was struggling to walk to the places I needed to be. Once home, I dragged myself upstairs, went to my prescription pill drawer, took a Soma (because the pill is so bitter, I dab a bit of edible botanical oil blend on it like this or this and wash it down with juice or coffee), fell onto the bed, and got climbed on by Rose, who sat on me and purred and licked my face until I felt slightly better. Then I went to my couch in the entertainment room, settled at the laptop table, and turned on the PS3 for Netflix. And then Luna jumped into my lap and licked every bit of exposed skin and demanded cuddling and brushing until I felt slightly better. Also by that point the Soma had kicked in and I was feeling relaxed and in less pain.

Ah, a Futurama marathon on Netflix again. I never get bored. Some people think I would, with certain TV shows. But no. I am not like some people. I am weird people and proud, and I can watch several seasons of a single series over and over and be very happy. So far, the shows I do this with are Futurama, My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic, The Simpsons, Doctor Who, Good Eats, The Big Bang Theory, Avatar The Last Airbender, The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, Archer, and various science-based shows. Personally, I don't see how someone could hate rewatching good TV shows.

On my way to my hair salon appointment at Congressional Plaza, I stopped at the nearby Fresh Market store, which had replaced the Whole Foods last year. I found several teas and beverages I couldn't find anywhere else, and also fresh chunky chocolate chip cookies. Also, a chicken pesto goat cheese wrap. Yay!
My hair salon appointment went wonderfully. Best haircolor decision ever. Redken Chromatics Gold Mocha Medium Brown.
http://www.1beauty.us/redken-ammonia-free-chromatics-4gm-goldmocha-medium-brown-p-2762.html








Seriously, it's like mocha with gold flecks. They say the color is multi-dimensional, which unfortunately does not mean that it gives me the power to travel to multiple dimensions. However, the colors shine like whoa. I feel like a model in a hair product advert. Best hair dye product ever.

Also? Those brushes and combs that are infused with tourmaline, ceramic, and ionic technology actually work. My hair went from frizzy and dehydrated as though I were a cat caught in a downpour, to smooth and shiny as though I'd been replaced with a multi-dimensional version of myself with permanently straight shiny silky satiny smooth glowing hair that glittered and granted wishes. No, wait, that's the silly dream I had last night.

Also: I finally found a teal eyeshadow that works for me: Hijack by Urban Decay, which is described as a metallic glittery dark teal. Which will go well with that eyeliner I found, Sapphire by Buxom, which is described as a teal indigo shade. Both products are safe for sensitive skin. I am pleased.

*pets hair* Ooh, shiny, silky...

Whenever I'm starting a new scene, a new chapter, or a new story, I shall play this.

Coffee coffee coffee coffee. Also, Ponies.

(sigh) A few people have mentioned that I've "gone Pony-crazy" or "gotten Pony-obsessed." From the technical and medical standpoints, I have certainly not, and I take very slight offense. However, please do explain what is so wrong with thoroughly enjoying a thing that I loved in childhood so much that the nostalgia is bursting forth in my adult brain like beautiful fireworks. Oh, heavens, I am expressing my joy at something humorous and colorful in online social media, so I must be crazy and obsessed beyond help. It obviously has nothing to do with making sure I laugh about happy things every day to hold clinical depression at bay. That crazy obsessive Joanna, she's something, isn't she?
Besides, I cheerfully hold my tongue about stuff that those people love dearly and chatter on about while I just smile and nod.
/laughing lighthearted sarcasm mode

I dunno. I just have this... thing... about being called "obsessed" when I personally try to use the term in the medical sense. I admit that I am ridiculously sensitive about such issues since I actually have OCD, ADD, depression, anxiety, hypersensitivity, etc. I totally admit that I take things literally or the wrong way some days.
Go on, tell me to lighten up. I usually need more smiling.
( Read more... )

I think my disability lawyer's assistants are getting used to me calling in to report seizures and seizure-related incidents, but this will be a new one:
"Complex partial seizure with immediate secondary generalized tonic clonic seizure caused by a severe anxiety attack following extreme emotional distress, resulting in falling off a couch in full tonic clonic phases, followed by memory gaps and intense mental fog. Possibly with physical brusing or minor damage. Seizure lasted approximately two to three minutes."
Now that's one for the record books. I haven't had a tonic clonic in a long time. I need to be under serious, massive, intense, extreme stress for that to happen.
I don't exactly recall what happened, but it involved me involuntarily screaming at someone over the phone. I think there was a Facebook argument and I unintentionally delivered a cheap shot at one asshole to counter his shots, and then he called Adam and demanded that Adam control me or something. Fuck, I don't remember, and I'm not going to go look, that would just make me sad and tired and annoyed. I apologized for the cheap shot, but not for trying to stand up.
As Adam said, every time I try to really assert myself and stand up and be a bitch, part of my brain starts collapsing. I need to work on that.
I need a nap. Adam just gave me an ice cream sandwich. That'll work too.
Mostly, though, I need a nap. I feel so drained that I'm almost seeing in grayscale.
Besides, tomorrow I have a girl's day out with Beca; we're going to go to Ulta and I'm gonna get my hair dyed with Redken Chromatics 4Gm Gold/Mocha Medium Brown - which is fairly close to my natural shade. Also, having someone expertly massage my scalp is one of the greatest relaxation techniques ever.
Now I just need to stop crying like the world is dying. Maybe a Klonopin is in order. And some stretching. And cat cuddlings. And husband cuddlings.
Mm, cuddles.

There are these blog posts being circulated about "how to be friends with a disabled person" and such. And that's nice, and good, because sometimes people don't know.The more I read, the more I thought. And I realized. Throughout my adult life, various friends and acquaintances have made suggestions and offered advice and have certainly gone that well-worn route of "Hey, have you tried this? You should totally try this. I know a guy who knows a guy who said he was cured forever!" I've thought it over, and over... and I've come to the decision that if someone wants to be my friend, they should... be my friend. *shrug* Friends are supportive. Friends are accommodating. Friends are kind. Friends are gentle. Friends genuinely want to know how you feel. Friends offer help. Friends love and cherish.

Keeping that in mind, I have realized that there are things that some of my friends sometimes do that I don't like: Calling me things that I have repeatedly asked them not to call me. Making jokes about me that I don't find funny. Telling me to just deal with it. Telling me to quit whining. Telling me it could be worse. Thinking that all I need is insert magic treatment here. I get that. I get it. Being friends with a disabled person is extremely hard, it is often inconvenient, and it is occasionally downright annoying. But being a disabled person is not only hard, inconvenient, and annoying, it is also a daily punch to the face reminding me that many of the things I wish I could do in full capacity are not feasible. Every day, it is like a physical blow, to know that no matter how far I stretch my limits, I can only go so far before I push all those limits, and then the blows start again. Sometimes, the people I love deliver such blows. Sometimes it is necessary. Usually it is not. I've been living this way for my entire life, which as of April 6 has been 33 years. I get it. Life is pain. I have learned what works for me. I have learned what does not work for me. I don't need to be told, "You know, you don't Do Z very much. You should Do Z. Once I started Doing Z, I started feeling better and blah blah blah." I've Done Z. I just don't give a fuck anymore what Z wants to be. I go outside and walk every day. I read. I exercise. I breathe. I laugh. I write. I think about things beyond my disabilities all the time, but not thinking about them won't make them go away. That's a pet peeve. "Just stop thinking about it and you'll feel better." Excuse me while I laugh my ass off.

The main point that I was trying to get at is this: Just be my friend. If I ask you to stop talking about me in ways I dislike, stop talking about me in ways I dislike (this includes affectionate nicknames that I do not find affectionate and actually find tasteless and annoying). If it looks like I need help, offer help. Ask me how I'm feeling and understand that I'll probably answer something beyond "I'm okay/I'm fine" (which is code for "Many things are fucked up and I want to scream"). Don't suggest or offer treatments or remedies without asking if I've tried them. Do offer support in general. If you haven't heard from me, contact me. I'm introverted and shy and anxious, and reaching out to anyone is extremely hard and exhausting for me, no matter how friendly we are. Even now, I still worry that people don't like me. I get exhausted and fatigued and weak very easily, and I usually have no desire to go to nightclubs or rowdy bars or to wander city blocks for hours after dark. My idea of a lovely day is sitting around talking, telling stories, watching offbeat films, enjoying gentle company and good food - and if that's not what you want to do, just say so; I won't be hurt or offended. Just keep in mind that my physical limitations (Yes! I do have limitations!) can overwhelm me.

(Speaking of limitations, I loathe cheery phrases like "The only limitations are in your mind" and "You have no limits because [lots of reasons]" and "All your limitations are self-imposed." Well, then. I declare myself to be a ninja gymnast with powers to heal people and fly through space and also I have telekinesis of every kind and I can turn myself into a unicorn and a dragon and also I am immortal and I can speak to animals and also I can travel through the spacetime continuum, and I know what's really at the center of black hole singularities - hint: it's made of candy!)

Does anyone want to ask me random questions about anything based on my profile, userpics, interests, tags, past posts, or etcetera? I will answer anything, and if you want to be private, you can send me a message. I am feeling better and more open.

Today is a day that has had me crumbling under crippling fatigue. Vicious, perception-harming fatigue full of fog and hemiparetic tremors and full-body spasms and full-body pain. I mean, seriously, my brain is horrid today. I was vacuuming earlier and almost passed out. I am just so tired, and also tired of this.

I try, I really really try, damn it. This makes me want to cry, but every part of me is dry. Oil serums and lotions and eye drops and water and tea have all helped, but I still can't cry, or maybe I just won't.

In a conversation with a friend the other day, I realized that I've been throwing myself into cartoons (My Little Pony, Futurama) more than my writing, because it's easier to share a franchise with built-in fandom to a hungry population. It's easy to exclaim over popular fiction, to quote characters, sing songs, collect toys, immerse myself in the colorful delight of something created for children while winking obviously at adults (My Little Pony referencing adult films such as The Big Lebowski and even getting certain swear words past the censors).
I never planned or wanted to adore the Pony franchise and fandom so much, but it was like being yanked forcefully, and once I was in, I was completely immersed, as though it were an entity itself.
Now that I understand it, I've been pulling away slightly, being less wild about it, but still fannish. I've realized that I have always been giving with a "free and open heart" yet my anxiety levels have been so high that my heart has been less open, hence the need for such a fandom, which is easily shared without giving my heart or self away - something that would instantly happen once my writing was sent off into the world.
It was too easy to let myself fall into the MLP fandom, because of nostalgia and anxiety, because of the need to be comforted by child-like things. Then again, I just love the Ponies because... well, I love them and they're awesome and cool and such. But again, I just fell in. But positively. I fell in positively. It makes me laugh. I need to laugh. And breathe.
Also, brushing and coming my Pony dolls' hair is incredibly soothing. That could be a factor. Also, every time I start brushing a Pony's hair, Luna starts meowing loudly and tries to pull the brush away; I think she might be jealous.

Adam will be home from New York and New Jersey very late tonight. We think he will have tomorrow off, which means I will have help and strong arms.

Stuff that is awesome:
Taking out my irritation and frustration on my fictional characters in various stories. So far I have caused: many broken bones, internal bleeding, concussions, severe hallucinations, third degree burns, poisoning, severe blood loss, and multiple wounds from swords, daggers, projectile weapons, and animal claws.
Perhaps not so awesome. But quite cathartic.

Stuff that is even more awesome:
I am doing the Pony Pokey. With a cane, bruised hips, muscle spasticity, and severe body pain. I rule.
http://youtu.be/yfS8-ffwgHI

And, and, and:
I slid down the stairs on my butt, so I win. I don't know what I won, but I win anyway.

Dear friends both online and in person:
Even if you want to help me in your own ways, please do not ever tell me to "just deal with it" and do not ever tell me "you just need to learn how to deal better with your disabilities" because that is a trigger and it sets me off and I might actually unleash that fantastic Sicilian-Russian crazy rage that many of my ancestors have been known for; and if that happens, do not laugh and do not say anything like "it's about time, I've been waiting" or "oh, you're so cute when you're mad" or some bullshit like that. I will attempt to break bones or say very harsh things that you will not like.
If I am using my cane, do not tell me that I don't need it. If I am in a pain flare, do not tell me to just walk it off like it is nothing. Again, harsh words or physical attacks will happen.
I am very good at yelling. If my short father can grab a tall man, shove him up against a wall, and snarl at him until the tall man becomes jelly, understand that I've inherited that kind of controlled anger; do not underestimate what I might do if I get angry enough.
Also? I am dealing with my issues. It is called living and working with my issues and around my issues while living the best life I can. If you don't think that is good enough, I feel sorry for you. Wait, no I don't, not really. I just feel like laughing at you.

Don't worry, this came out of irritation over an argument with someone on an online forum. Seriously, though.

These seasonal allergies are making me want to throw tantrums. I am doing every single thing I can think of to soothe, combat, and destroy.

Also, I am in a fibromyalgia flare and a spastic hypertona flare, and I am experiencing spastic hemiparesis to the point where my entire left side feels like a shaky ghost or a burning dream. Spastic hemiparesis is one of the most bizarre things ever, if you've never experienced it. Suddenly I am very glad the neurologist increased the dosage my epilepsy medication. Experiencing nerve freak-outs during a complex partial seizure that already throws me into a Wonderland dimension is reality-altering enough. Augh, sensory processing disorder sucks.

Dear Asclepius, Greek god of healing and medicine, son of Apollo, father of Panacea and Hygieia: Get your glorious golden ass over here and give me a boost, will you?

My neurologist is hilarious.
I was about twenty minutes early, and she came in and saw me and was so excited that I'd arrived early. I was like, well, yeah, I always try to be early. But we hadn't seen each other in almost a year, and we hugged, and she was thrilled to see me, and we chatted about my conditions and my medications, and she said everything seemed fine... except, of course, for the part where I have weekly seizures. She was pleased that they were not the tonic clonic kind, unless I am furiously stressed or badly excited, which doesn't happen often. We decided to increase the Trileptal once my current bottle is empty. Instead of taking two 300 mg round pills in the morning and one 300 mg round pill at night, I will be taking one 600 mg oblong pill in the morning and another 600 mg oblong pill at night. It was so sweet - she kept stressing that I must only take one pill in the morning and one at night, only. We laughed, because many of her patients have made such mistakes and I knew I would be fine.
I told her about my disability hearing in July and she wished me all the luck in the world. She was pleased at the effectiveness of the Klonopin, and also fascinated and highly pleased that the Zoloft was treating my OCD. She was happy about all mt supplements, and really nothing had changed except I was still having stress-induced seizures, which called for either a higher dose of Trileptal or an additional medication. However, since I said the Klonopin was working so well, she would leave that as the additional. Good. It was just... happy. A good, good visit. She hugged me goodbye and took my hands and smiled right at me and told me she'd see me again next year, unless something serious happened. I told her I would call her in July if I got approved.

Charlotte and I then drove to the Walgreens nearby, which I reveled in, seeing as how I have no Walgreens near me, and Walgreens has stuff that CVS doesn't, and also I had a coupon. Then it was off to Whole Foods after a message from Adam. I bought a loaf of Black Russian bread (it has coffee in it!) and a block of Monocacy Silver creamy goat cheese, and sushi (salmon avocado and spicy tuna avocado), and various Bai juices with coffee fruit extract.
Charlotte drove us back to my house, where Adam was resting from his latest over-24-hour work day. We get to spend Saturday together, and then Adam is off to New York for a few days. The hours are hard but the pay is okay and it could be a lot worse.

Eventually, possibly Sunday, Charlotte will come over and we will marathon My Little Pony on Netflix. I am amazed at how many adults love this show and the toys. It really does call to the childhood nostalgia of almost everybody.

In conclusion, here is a photo of my extremely soft and lovingly cuddly cat, Luna.
In our house, the statement "We love the Luna" is almost like a ritual chant. I love my Luna. Luna loves us. Luna is queen. Luna is the prettiest cat ever. Luna will always have treats and gooshyfood. We love the Luna.

fan·tas·tic   [fan-tas-tik]
adjective
1. conceived or appearing as if conceived by an unrestrained imagination; odd and remarkable; bizarre; grotesque.
2. fanciful or capricious, as persons or their ideas or actions.
3. imaginary or groundless in not being based on reality; foolish or irrational.
4. extravagantly fanciful; marvelous.
5. incredibly great or extreme; exorbitant.

So, my favorite Young Adult series is Kiersten White's Paranormalcy trilogy. The third book, 'Endlessly' will be out soon, and eventually there will be at least one movie. I've been reading Kiersten White's blog, and she is one of the most awesome people in the world - she's also my height, heh.

Recently, Kiersten wrote a post about how hard writing is, how it makes you bleed and sob and lose your mind some days. And I commented because I was so touched that she put it so well:

"Kiersten, thank you so, so, so so so so much for this post. It's what I needed. See, I've been working on this futuristic urban fantasy pagan polytheistic supernatural psychic power novel since I was 20 (I just turned 33) and I've almost finished it, but many, many things have derailed me. Illness and disability, mostly (I have a disability hearing in July and I'm so nervous I can't brain straight), and also growing up, because when you write, you always grow with your characters. And my characters have had over twelve years to grow, and dear gods, that feels like forever, doesn't it? Why can't I just finish it? Whhyyyyy? *cough*
There were many, many people who told me that I was writing a great book and that it would sell very well (lots of pagan readers out there, people getting tired of sexy vampires, whatever). But I have this shatteringly fragile sense of self that often rears up (especially after an epileptic seizure or a fibromyalgia flare) and points and laughs, "Ha, ha, you suck, your brain sucks, your book sucks, you will never be published, mwa ha ha..." And it takes me a while to do battle. I have a very pretty and deadly mental sword, though. I call her Phoenix.
So. Erm. Yes, well. I think I've said more than I'd expected to. Anyway.
Erm. Thank you. Yes! That's what I wanted to say. Also, that I pre-ordered Endlessly and am now clawing the couch the way my cat Luna does when she gets excited (get off the couch, Luna)."

The characters in this book are finally starting to yell again, so loudly that I can actually hear them, and I've been writing as hard as I can before the blocks rise again. Pulling myself away to work on the short stories has been also fantastic.

Oooh, the second season of MLP: FIM is on Netflix! That was lightning quick. Well, no more searching on YouTube. Happy watching.

Also, I ran into a neighbor lady who works with a volunteer catch/fix/release and foster program for feral and stray cats. I'm thrilled, because this means I know who to contact when I see any cats roaming. I'll have to check for each cat's clipped right ear, which indicates that they have been fixed and released. Hopefully we can catch the three current storm drain kittens.

I walked all over the place today, because I had coupons to a few stores. It still upsets me that I can't walk far or run at all without agony, burning, hypertonia, spasticity and cramping. Stupid... everything.

My search for a good deep teal eyeshadow goes on. Etsy has one that I love, when I have the money.

It is raining outside. I'm so tired. Mentally, I mean. Psychically, psychologically, spiritually, neurologically. I want to cry until I'm dried out. There are so many things that scare me right now, but in the larger scope of things, they are nothing compared to what so many other people go through; I won't mention them.

Someone made and shipped me this amazing ring made of teal kyanite and copper wire. I've been using it as a worry stone. I've been psychically charging it as much as possible, since kyanite is one of the few gemstones that both repels negative energy and doesn't really need cleansing. Plus, copper is awesome. My chakras need balancing quite a bit.


http://www.healing-crystals-for-you.com/blue-kyanite.html
http://shimmerlings.com/gemstones/kyanite.htm
http://www.shimmerlings.com/gemstones/copper.htm
http://www.purestcolloids.com/history-copper.php

Although really, my cats have been best at easing my anxieties. I mean, beyond the Klonopin and Zoloft and herbal pills and meditative exercises. Even now, Rose is with me constantly, on my lap or by my side, vocalizing softly and rubbing her face against me, petting my cheek and purring loudly. Luna, too, has been with me, purring every time I touch her. Jupiter demands scratching and brushing, and calls loudly when he sees me distracted.

Watching random cartoons from the 1980s and 1990s has helped. (She-Ra, X-Men.)

I am finding it extremely hard to brain properly today. I may have had a couple of little seizures last night. My emotional... emotionality was not... emotional. Quite flat and distant, really. Observing myself perform tasks, speak words, and think thoughts while feeling detached. Essentially, depersonalization. That has been happening more and more during and after seizures. I've found some fascinating quotes that I'm still pondering: "...the dissociative condition was in fact a form of temporal lobe seizure. This is of interest in that the temporal lobe is more prone to seizure activity than any other lobe of the cortex... In addition, temporal lobe seizures are notable for producing states of altered consciousness, including those in which the sense of 'personal identity' may disappear." This is something I will have to bring up during next week's appointment with the neurologist.

I do remember cleaning the kitchen counter and stove with an abrasive cleanser (a Magic Eraser sponge) as though my life depended on it. This was after Adam watched me scoop cat litter and made the comment that the entire litter area was filthy. I commented that I hadn't really noticed. True. My perceptions are skewed. Adam pulled everything out of the closet space, swept up litter and debris, and casually mentioned that I "never clean anything." I found myself blankly agreeing, flat and detached and uncaring. Afterwards, when Adam went to the kitchen to wash up, I watched myself grab cleaning supplies and mechanically start working on surfaces. I began working mechanically, emotionless and and nearly compulsive. The counters weren't sparkling clean, but my muscles, joints, and nerves were already exhausted, and logically I knew that continuing would leave me useless later. My left arm was already fairly useless, at different times spasming, tensing, becoming limp. Switching between paresis and plegia, allowing sensation but not voluntary movement. I hate when that happens. General asthenia is one of those things I have grown to accept but it will always frustrate me.

I have odd moments in which very random things motivate me unexpectedly, and I whirl through the house on a frenzied cleaning spree, rationally understanding that I probably will not do a thorough job because the way I perceive things is not "normal" and I tend to miss obvious details. When Adam comes home, he always compliments me on at least "trying hard." I take no offense, I never feel shamed or upset. We are both aware that my perception problems and my pain disorders make homemaker life very difficult. We do our best to work with my conditions. It is incredibly frustrating, yes. I seem lazy to observers. I seem unmotivated, carefree, aloof, too internally focused, too self-absorbed, spending too much time inside my head. Sometimes, Adam and I joke that we wish I had the type of OCD that involved house cleaning.

I have used various techniques, so please, there is no need to comment about "trying this or that" concerning household chores.

I believe the point of this entry was to record the observation of epileptic activity. A slightly more reality-interactive Being Alice moment, as it were. I just feel very tired, very much in pain of many kinds, very not interested in anyone telling me how to feel or think. That happens so much in the disabled world, doesn't it? We all want to help each other and some of us take it a little too far? I refuse to participate in any Pain Olympics, but I certainly welcome thoughts and ideas and anecdotes, always.

I forgot where this was going. Sorry.

I know that for the sake of sanity, we humans need to create things to believe in so we can make sense out of chaos, and that sometimes our creations come to life in amazing ways due to our fabulous powers of creativity, illusion, philosophy, and reason. But I've always wondered if believing in anything beyond ourselves means quietly giving up parts of our sanity to a chaotic, infinite, maddening universe or multiverse, thus allowing us to be able to stay calm and rational if we ever do see the faces of the multiverse in the forms of cosmic forces, divine minds, supernatural entities, infinite patterns, etcetera.
Or perhaps my mind is just so open to the possibility of everything that I can believe anything without claiming that something specific is an ultimate truth. In the end, there is no ultimate truth, just pieces of chaos floating through the collective unconscious that each person interprets to soothe individual uncertainties regarding life, death, and forces beyond control. After all, we humans really want to either be in control or have something be in control so we feel safe and comfortable. Because the multiverse is uncontrollable, unsafe, uncomfortable, and ultimately unknown.

(Pay no attention to the ramblings of this agnostic eclectic pantheist polytheist pagan witch; she gets like this when on a crazy creative streak.)

(Also, this is interesting and amusing. http://www.pantheism.net/paul/faqs.htm)

Unfortunately, many MLP FIM episodes on YouTube are being removed due to copyright issues, but I found a new YouTube site that so far is working.
http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL39C309CFC750A4A6&feature=plcp (This is the main page for Season 2, since season 1 is on Netflix.)

Lotus Star and I are hanging out with the cats and with Adam, who went to work at 5:30 and came home at 2:30. Rose spent all night and all morning lying on me when I was on my back, lying against me when I was on my side, and pestering me while I got dressed and took pills. I love when she vocalizes with that scratchy little tiger-like "rher" mewl, her call for attention.

Adam brought home two cheese pizza pies from 2 Bros in Manhattan, which caused me such joy and glee that I danced, and when I started eating I moaned. The taste of my birthplace.

We wound up turning on the central air conditioning yesterday, just to get that sticky damp heat out. It feels like summer already. I want to keep the thermostat between 72 and 76 as much as possible to save on our electric bill, which should hopefully not be terrible. As much as I dearly love warm weather, too warm is of course too much.

Chocolate honey cinnamon maple coffee is yay.

This is Garden Wishes. She's from the G3 2006 batch of toy Ponies. She came from an old purse in my closet just like the other two. I love her dearly. However, I do not call her Garden Wishes. I call her Lotus Star.

If I were to ever write MLP fanfic, her name would be Lotus Star and she would be one of the most powerful young unicorns in Equestria, but very shy and awkward and full of raw nervous magic, and studious and anxious and quiet and bookwormy and focused and creative and nature-loving. So she would be friends with Fluttershy and take lessons from Twilight Sparkle and probably be a new student of Celestia.
Also she would be me in pony form; there, I said it. But I swear she wouldn't be a Mary Sue nor an author insert. I just think that if I were an Equestrian pony character, this is exactly who I would be.
Besides, Lotus Star is a more fitting name. Her symbol looks like a lotus and a star. Also, she glitters and is shiny and is pink and purple and gold and oh so pretty and squee I love her.

Thank you, closet.

Wrist injuries, migraine, spasticity, knee damage after a slip and fall, now vertigo. I might roll some dice to see if anything else happens. Or I would if I could find my dice. Is there a Disability Symptom Bingo?

My new MetroAccess ID card will arrive in a week. The re-application process was painless - except for the ride into DC, which took over an hour because of traffic - and when the MetroAccess van took me back home, I ate a huge bowl of cereal and took a nap, and then got a pain pill because ow.

Adam will be home late tonight after a job in Manhattan; I do hope he can bring pizza or bagels, but it may or may not be possible. We shall see. Gods, I miss New York.

The cats are being adorable, but I think it is mostly due to the house being warm. If I were a cat, I too would lay on my back and stretch out near a fan.

I've decided to try and hunt down an eyeshadow that blends teal and lavender, like the colors of the current Toy Celestia's mane and tail.

Also, this is a wonderful blog post, and for once, I like all the comments. Usually this community is ridiculously self-serving and hive-minded, but the comments here are lovely.
http://ohnotheydidnt.livejournal.com/68714236.html (As a bisexual woman who leans more towards men, I fistpump in their general direction.)

Hey, it's Celestia the Lavender without her crown or pendant. I like her better this way. (Also, I'm not wearing any makeup; somehow that feels relevant.)

And you know the funny thing? Ever since I was a child, I've had an imaginary friend that was a pale purple alicorn. And now here she is in toy form. I shall call her Celestia the Lavender. And when I get the real white-gold toy, I shall have the true Princess Celestia.

(Being A Weird Wallflower Nerd Is Awesome:
When sometimes all it takes to make you smile is a winged unicorn toy and a children's television series about magic ponies with subtle adult references.)

Princess Celestia is my new heroine and the most awesome physical goddess ever. When I grow up, I want to be like her.
http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/Princess_Celestia

She is supposed to be white and gold, but try telling certain gender-essentialist toymakers that. A proper white and gold version will be available this year and I am totally going to buy it. Although lavender and pink isn't too bad; except it's not Celestia's colors, so whatever.

And you know the funny thing? Ever since I was a child, I've had an imaginary friend that was a pale purple alicorn. And now here she is in toy form. I shall call her Lavender Celestia, and when I get the real white-gold toy, I shall have the true Celestia.

I really like saying the name Celestia.

Also, Celestia and I are celebrating Beltane together. Blessed be and all that happy pagan stuff, yay.

Because I tend to forget my separate diagnoses, I'm just listing them all here for times when I need to recall them.

-Cerebral palsy (spastic-ataxic hemiplegia)
-Spastic Hypertonia (with spastic hemiparesis and intention tremors)
-Fibromyalgia
-Temporal Lobe Epilepsy
-Asthma
-Raynaud's Disease (primary)
-Sensory Integration Dysfunction
-Attention Deficit Disorder (non-hyperactive)
-Dyscalculia
-Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (mild)
-Sciatica
-Lordosis
-Migraines
-Non-Allergic Rhinitis (mainly gustatory)
-Anorexia Nervosa (recovering)
-Chondromalacia Patella
-Joint Pain (overall)
-Clinical Depression (mild to moderate)
-Anxiety Disorder (general and social)

I wish I were surprised that the list is so long right now. Let's see if doctors add anything as I get older. Fun!

-My cluttered crazy closet is revealing Secrets. Like discontinued My Little Pony Toys from Generation 3 (2006, specifically). It's awesome

-The celebrity Jessica Simpson just gave birth to a girl named Maxwell Drew, which they say are family names. Gossip sites are exploding over Maxwell being a boys' name. I remain unfazed and bored, however I am very curious about how gender-specific and unisex names become so ingrained into various cultures.

-On Facebook, I seem to have accidentally formed a Disability Superhero Group. It probably won't go anywhere but it's a cute idea. My profile, in case I forget:

Name: Brain Fire Girl
Disabilities: Cerebral Palsy, Epilepsy, Fibromyalgia, Depression, Anxiety, Multiple Neurochemical Disorders, Various Nerve Pains, Various Joint Pains, Sensory Disorders, Respiratory Disorders, Hypersensitivity.
Superpowers: She is able to transfer pain and burning sensations to willfully ignorant and willfully stupid people; she particularly seeks out people who don't understand the idea of individualized medical treatments. She is also able to project empathy and sensitivity onto trolls who mock the disabled, although the effects can be negligible. She is also able to project dreams or hallucinations about the reality of having disabilities.

-FUTURAMA.

-Adam and I made cookies yesterday. We began to make the dough for basic chocolate chip cookies. Then Adam took a bag of dried goji berries, dumped a bunch of berries in the food processor, and ground them into powder. Now our cookies have a lovely reddish-orange color and a distinct goji flavor which mixes well with the cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate. I am so spoiled for cookies, I swear.