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30 November 2012 @ 08:29 pm

And I'd say I have a fairly solid foundation on which to continue to build this novel. *-* I can also know breathe, let my Internal Editor out of its cage, and go back and tear the entire nine chapters apart. The carnage is sure to be brutal (not a great idea to lock up Editors for so long - they can get a little crazed), but that's nothing new, right? ^-*

I'm just happy I accomplished SOMETHING, and that I stuck through it enough to even top my goal at least a little bit. It isn't the success I had hoped for, but it is a success, and I'll take it.

And now I need to consider crawling into bed so I can get up and work tomorrow.
Current Mood: happyhappy
Current Music: "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" ~Poison
15 November 2012 @ 06:38 pm
(Cross-posted from seawhyspers

Well, I wrote a solid 2700 words today - too bad they weren't for my novel. *~*

I realize that we're only half-way through the month, at this point, but I'm going to give myself a Reality Check (courtesy of the Universe checking me a couple of times), and accept that 100,000 words is beyond my grasp. I just don't have the hours in the day coming up in the next two weeks, and rather than getting frustrated with myself, I'm going to accept that defeat as gracefully as possible.

Doesn't mean I'm bailing on NaNo, though, I'm just going to stick to the 50,000 word total that it's designed for. I'm confident I can reach that goal (I'm more than half-way there, right now), and I'd rather achieve a lesser goal than no goal at all. I find that tends to be a little easier on the ego. *-* And I will finish the novel, I have no doubt of that. Let's face it, when I worked on What the Mind Sees, I didn't finish that first draft until January, and I was happy with that result. There's still no shame in 50,000 words in 30 days; it's a Hell of a lot more than I've done the rest of the year. *-*

All cheering is still appreciated (Thank you, Jenn; you have been a big help), though I'll understand if you'll be disappointed. Don't worry - I am, too.
Current Mood: disappointeddisappointed
09 November 2012 @ 10:54 pm
So it only just occurred to me that I've failed to cross-post all of my NaNo posts here. Oh, well - they say the mind is the first thing to go. My daily (or semi-daily) word counts will continue to be posted at seawhyspers, but I figure I'll update this blog with my weekly totals.

Nine days in, and I'd say I'm sitting pretty. *-*

Current Mood: pleasedpleased
11 June 2012 @ 10:41 pm
No matter how many times I move, Florida Tech still manages to find me, and I strongly suspect they have some kind of SNARC watching (my apologies to non-David Weber fans who won't get the reference) because they never fail to deliver the Alumni magazine within 24 hours of my questioning what I did with my life...or didn't do. Nothing reinforces failure like reading about everyone's wonderful successes, especially the fucking brats that are younger than I am. *~*

I don't work for NOAA. I'm not doing research. I'm not associated with Green Peace or Sea Shepherds or Nature Conservancy. I haven't been on an R/V in over 11 years (ferries and cruise ships don't count). I haven't been diving in over 11 years. I haven't been snorkeling in 6 years. I have degrees in Marine Biology and Ecology, and they look really fucking ridiculous on my bookcase and are a pain in the ass to dust every other week.

I'm a Licensed Veterinary Technician - which only came with an Associate's and didn't require all that much work on my part. To the majority of the general public, I'm a pathetic loser with a job anyone could do, and no amount of protest will convince them differently. I spent how much money - and how much of my parents' money - on four years that yielded nothing? So I could correct people when they hear what I do and think I didn't make it out of high school? So that I could make cutting remarks to the people that see my tattoos and think I have an IQ of 54? So I could watch high school graduates squeal and brag about getting into college and want to laugh hysterically at their stupidity?

Oh, yes, I have three degrees - and the debt to prove it. But I don't have my Master's, not like the sainted members of my family who are perfect and never do a thing wrong. The people who do impressive, magnificent jobs and have positions that I never will, not to mention incomes. All I have are three cats, a rat, a giant pile of stuffed sharks with embroidered smiles, and stacks of books in every room.

I may joke, but, right now, investing in a live-on boat, supplies, and fuel and sailing away where no one will have to deal with me or laugh at me or be embarrassed at associating with me sounds pretty damn good. At least then the only person I'm answerable to is me. And I doubt the damn school could find me out in the middle of the ocean.
Current Mood: crushedcrushed
08 June 2012 @ 09:27 pm
The moment you can actually breathe freely, actually feel that massive weight lift from your shoulders doesn't always coincide with the moment you ACKNOWLEDGE that freedom to yourself. The body reacts well ahead of the mind; kind of as if the brain has a sadistic need to hang on to your warped, abused emotions. The weight of the Hell from last year actually lifted back on April 21st - well, April 28th, because I subconsciously included a week for mailing time. Guess when my brain finally recognized the nightmare was over.

I have spent the past week fighting to stay asleep every night, kicking blankets off and feeling like I was boiling alive. I have been so emotionally raw that I'm surprised I didn't snap more times than I actually did - about stupid shit, no less. I have been grinding my teeth during the day for the first time since my gallbladder issues back in 2009, to the point that my head aches constantly. I developed what I'm pretty confident is an ulcer. My cystitis flared up so badly I strongly debated whether a bladder was necessary for life. I have spent most nights crying, without always having a good reason for doing so (do NOT get me started on those SPCA commercials!). Easy enough to chalk it up to hormones, save that timing is off for that (relatively speaking - my body has no concept of "hormone time").

Tonight I realized that I have spent the past week examining and discarding every negative aspect of myself I've been feeling since November. Every nasty remark I turned on myself, every question, every doubt, every emotional onslaught - I've pulled them out, examined them with a fine-toothed comb, and then crushed them with my mental hands. Not a pleasant experience, really, though I admit it's necessary. But it explains why my body's sense jumped ship - you can't go through that kind of emotional turmoil without a physical reaction. This is the brutality people don't mention or acknowledge when they discuss bullying; people want to believe that such wounds heal so easily. The time when you're free, and yet you relive every moment, trace over every wound that's still seeping blood...try to smooth them into scars. And the people that do it to you have no clue - and no care - of the damage they actually brought about.

I have a ways to go yet, still have a list of things to go through and argue out with myself. While I'm never going to admit to enjoying the physical pains and annoyances it produces, I'm glad I'm finally moving ahead. I'm glad to be able to remember WHO I am, WHAT I am.

And I'm damn glad I'm pagan and have no need for the bullshit philosophy of, "forgive and forget."
Current Mood: tiredtired
Current Music: Incubus - Drive | Powered by Last.fm
29 February 2012 @ 09:10 pm
I really hope the world does end this year, because I can't take this anymore. I can't handle the liars, and I can't handle being told to extend trust to people when NO ONE is trustworthy. Every last person out there will lie to your face and stab you in the back, especially if they think it will get them ahead. And I can't stomach it anymore. People refuse to be honest, and I can't break my habit of believing that, when people speak to me, they're telling the truth. I don't expect people to lie to me, and I know I should. But I'm supposed to believe that human beings, in general, are better than that. So I believe "empty threats" and take things seriously that I shouldn't. And then I end up in tears, unable to sleep, in pain, and so angry that I wish Dad hadn't finished chopping up the wood because I need a violent outlet.

And none of these people see anything wrong with what they do! They excuse it and justify it and make me feel like I'm either over-reacting or the stupidest person on the planet. It doesn't matter to them that I'm being tortured - by every definition - or that my self-worth is scraping an all-time low. They don't care about the impact of their actions, because this country doesn't believe in personal responsibility. They can do whatever they want, and it's accepted. "Oh, well, you learn for next time." Because, of course, there's going to be a next time?! I'm just a walking screw-up who can't do a damn thing right?! It doesn't matter that you're upset, that you're hurting; it isn't their problem.

I know now why people become alcoholics. I know why people cut. I know why people commit suicide. All of those things that people shake their heads at and say, "I don't understand" - I DO. Because you reach a point where you just want to hide and make it all go away; you just want to sleep; you just want to stop hurting. But, of course, all of those things are so "misunderstood;" because only the truly pathetic think that way. Everyone turns a blind eye or justifies it, because admitting that someone is going through Hell just doesn't occur to them.

So, don't scream. Don't shout. Don't cry. You have to remain calm and collected. It's only right, and it's expected. After all, you have to set an example.
Current Mood: indescribableindescribable
14 February 2012 @ 09:29 pm
I have to admit, moves within the same state go much faster than those requiring hours of travel between loading and off-loading sites. I'm settled into my new apartment rather nicely, and there's only one box that hasn't been unpacked yet (and will remain that way until I can scrape enough together to get a stand for the DVDs). It's smaller than my last place, but I figure "cozy" isn't a negative term. Besides, if everything managed to fit in here, it can't be THAT small, right? And small saves on the electric bills, which is a plus. I think once I have the pictures up on the walls that it will feel more like "home" than it does right now; white walls just seem to scream, "refugee" to me...or "asylum" - take your pick.

Work is continuing to go well. It isn't perfect, but what work place is? There are little hiccups here and there, but they're so minor I find it easy to set them aside. Those that persist I've been able to pick apart and examine and then let go. Quirks of personality I can handle, especially when everyone is so hard-working and despises being idle. THAT has not changed, to my delight. It's harder to stay annoyed with someone who pulls their own weight; well, it is for me, at any rate. It's been a while since I've been able to come home from a job and relax without needing hours to loosen tight muscles. The only thing that tenses me now are the occasional idiots on the drive home - and, to my knowledge, no one's discovered a cure for them, as yet.

No, not everything in the world is right, at the moment, but those things are. I think I may have reached a point where, honestly, even that much is enough. It sure as hell beats being angry and frustrated with everything.
Current Mood: okayokay
19 January 2012 @ 08:53 pm
It's eerie how something someone else says to you can freeze your entire life for one moment and then shatter it into something you barely recognize. Perceptions, attitudes, and thoughts suddenly make no sense, even though you swear there was a logic to them not two moments before. Now, though, the flaws in the logic arise and its embarrassing to admit you were ever so naive. You hold these splinters in your hands, knowing they'll never be reassembled the same way again, and you start shaking in fear. Your established boundaries are destroyed, and you're vulnerable in a whole new way. There's no way to tilt the world back to what it was, no matter how much you may want to.

I'm not entirely certain what to do with these new concepts, new ideas. They run counter to how I've lived my entire life, and while some part of me argues that that discounts them, there's nothing wrong with them.

Consequences and punishment are not the same thing; nor are all consequences negative. A consequence is merely the result of an action, and you can choose to ignore it, or you can choose to learn something from it. What the Hell am I supposed to do with that reality?! If a consequence isn't retaliation for a wrong, then how do I blame myself for the wrong? How do I maintain guilt if there's no punishment? And since when does someone with authority point out such information? When has someone with authority ever skipped over a chance to inflict punishment?

There is no expectation for me to be other than what I am, quirks and foibles and all. I may have to tolerate being made fun of for some of those quirks, but there's no reason to hide them. I don't need to curb my tongue to avoid "delicate sensibilities" or give nothing more than the expected response. I have a voice, and it's respected as an individual. I have a right to speak up, to make suggestions, to offer a differing viewpoint. But this is when I'm on the clock, when I'm responsible to someone else. This isn't the privacy of my own home, but it's accepted, encouraged. How does that make sense? And why is there no consequence to being myself? Where are the frowns, the "casual" remarks, the shaking heads? Why are there smiles of welcome?

I don't understand the world lying beneath the broken pieces, but I also can't hide from the reality that this new world is easier to live in. It's easier to lie down at night without hours of self-flagellation. It's easier to unwind at the end of the day without cramped retrospection of the past day, searching for the mistake. The chest pain is less; the headaches are fewer; the knotted muscles are quieter. I BREATHE easier. And it's harder and harder to hold on to panic and worry and drive myself up the wall with both. Things will work, or they won't; fifteen hours of panic won't alter them one way or the other. I'm not saying I've conquered worry or panic (there are no miracles), but I just can't work up to a frenzy. The guilt doesn't imbed its hooks as deeply.

It's strange. It defies the logic I've held to. And, unfortunately, it's a damn sight better for me than the way I was viewing the world.
Current Mood: confusedconfused
Current Music: New Radicals - You Get What You Give | Powered by Last.fm
15 December 2011 @ 08:36 pm
I never thought I'd choose to work in a General Practice. After all, the bulk of my experience has been with Emergency Practices. I was one of those who looked down on GP as just "fecals and ears and vaccines," and while the bulk of the practice is the everyday ailments and annual check-ups, it's more than that. Forget the actual details of the job, the huge difference between GP and Emergency is how the practices are run. GPs have TEAMS; Emergencies have EMPLOYEES and levels of SUPERIORITY.

I don't discount that seniority exists everywhere, but there's a difference between someone merely being somewhere longer and someone lording it over you as if you just crawled out of the primordial ooze. If you have the same level of education and/or experience, then you are on the same playing field. You won't be identical, because everyone has different strengths and things they enjoy; that means you complement one another and can fold your strengths together. It makes for better patient care than one person dancing around with a crown on their head - especially when that person with the crown has never worked a day in their life as a C/V/LVT.

All of my new co-workers WORK, at EVERYTHING. No one needs prompting or attention drawn to something that isn't finished. No one is above certain tasks. EVERYONE looks for things that could be done when it's slow. I'm not only ALLOWED to perform all of the tasks I've been trained for, it's EXPECTED. I'm TRUSTED to know what I'm doing, not because I've been around forever and a day, but because I have those three letters after my name. I honestly didn't think any of those things were possible, anymore. I have to keep checking to be sure I'm actually awake and not unconscious somewhere, imagining everything. I keep asking, "Are you serious?" when they tell me things I'm allowed/expected to do. And it takes everything in me not to dance around, laughing hysterically, or else collapse on the spot and cry with relief. It's akin to feeling once of those cosmic puzzle pieces click into place.

Now, if I could just get a few other puzzle pieces to fall in, life would border the rim of perfect. *-*
Current Mood: surprisedsurprised
21 November 2011 @ 03:43 pm
It's taken three days of silent arguments (and not-so-silent arguments) for me to reach this place. I have fought tooth-and-nail against myself, and, now, I'm not even 100% sure why. For the first time, I've asked (and forced an answer), "Why do you feel that way?" No disrespect to those who have served overseas, but these kinds of battles defy description.

(And, no, this will probably not make a damn bit of sense to anyone save myself - no one's forcing you to read it)

Two Roads DivergedCollapse )
Current Mood: determineddetermined