Ch-Ch-Changes

Sometimes I visit this blog and think 'OMG, it's still here?' I spend more of my time blogging here about my various writing projects then I do on Crazy Thoughts rambling about my life. This has not been deliberate, it's just I initially started blogging as a form of free writing - a way to clear the webs from my thought before I attempted a serious project such as an essay or story.  As a result I started Next Stop: The End (link above) because on writing project lead to another and very soon I no longer engaged in free writing unless I'm stumped (like today).

Crazy Thoughts also became a repository for allergen free recipes, and craft or soap related activities. I still make soap, but infrequently because the stuff last so damn long, though I can give it away quite quickly; I just haven't bought the necessary equipment since I moved, so it's an activity that's on hold till I need to make some more. I did make a yummy banana milo cake a few months ago, a recipe I will share eventually, but its still experimental.  The only project of note was the Handmade Dog Coat that I  shared on my word press blog, and had to intended to share here too. However I've become increasingly busy since I started my Master's degree.

Yes. Master's degree. Totally Crazy. It's not the only change either.  Poor Maxie had to be euthanasied because his cancer was causing him distress.  At least he can finally see Luke again.  Max still looked for him every time he heard a noise downstairs. Because of all the events of this year my aunt now has decided to sell up, and down size.  The house will be on the market and the house de-cluttering shall begin.  This won't be an easy task.  I'm just glad that I've only bought clothes and text books since I moved in!  Getting rid of most of my possessions, furniture and miscellaneous household items was not fun... Or easy because I still had not gain full use/strength of my leg back after the craniotomy and the fatigue meant i'd fall asleep in the middle of doing tasks. It was ridiculous.

Of course it would have been so much easier if the Ex had taken his clutter with him when he bolted in fear of what the tumour meant.  I mean, seriously, don't leave others your crap to deal with; it's not fair.

To the beat of a different drum.

It has been ages since I posted.  Since march I have been either stupidly busy, fatigued or dealing with ill-health both related to my tumor or my immuno-suppression, and setting up new specialists.  I'm finally back to semi-regular posting with my fiction blog.  I'm finally sort-of settled into my new living situation.  I've been spending lot's of time with old friends, family and a pair of adorable doggies of whom I've been playing surrogate mother too.  Time really dose flow to it's own beat, as before I had even realized it, August had arrived.

I'm not a fan of August.  Too many bad things happen around August. Every year I wonder what will happen this time.  I'm hoping nothing because I've already had enough shit for one year.  The 25th is around the corner.  I've survived another year.  Not yet 30 and I'm marking off years of life with the same sense of achievement usually held by those over 70.

The 28th - anniversary of my first Grand Mal. Oct 2nd - Anniversary of my awake craniotomy. Oct 7 - Anniversary of a bitch-slap I never deserved from life or from someone I cared about and trusted. It would be nice if it ended there.  But life is not so kind.  Then there's March... When we will be wishing that one of our own was still here.

We never know how much time we have left.  There a things I no longer care about because I've learned there are things I'll never have. There are things I can't worry about because I can't affect the out come no matter what I do. Instead I choose to focus on what I can achieve, what I can do. Even when it seems insufficient to what life throws at me.

Time to make a move

I have been considering switching entirely to my Wordpress blog.  The blogger platform is limited in certain ways. It is not a very social platform. Wordpress makes it very easy to communicate with other blogs.  It is also so very easy to find other blog. I'm  just not sure the random eclectic content I've published over the time I've had this blog would suit the theme of my fiction orientated blog.  Cluttering it up with the occasional craft or random thought would add depth to the contents but might detract from it's purpose.

It's not a major decision or even one I'm in a rush to consider.  But I'm not longer sure there's any logic to keeping two blogs.

....zZzZZ

I'm so fricken tired. I've been have trouble sleeping for various reasons.  So I stayed up reading till 5a.m. Brilliant...  I expected to drift long before that.  I'm still trying to write a formal request letter to my employers for payslips. It's nearly complete but between the mix of emotion the entire situation has awakened and the tiredness I can't seem to okay the draft.  I had better luck with my creative writing this morning, but it's not urgent!

The wish list

Today. Just another day. I have have uploaded another flash fic to Next Stop: The End. They just keep coming this week. I'm more than a little worried about my poor laptop's performance these days. Between the hardware issues and the software conflicts it's getting close to new laptop time; I just hope this baby of machine will hold out until such a time as when I can actually afford to replace it.

Money is crux of my issues atm.  Living on SSP and housing benefits leaves me with little to spare. Because of a badly timed direct debit I actually went overdrawn on my account (literally if it had gone out the next day it would have been fine). This, as you would expect, meant my mobile was cut off very, very briefly. 45 minutes and 2 calls later it was all sorted out.  The Co-operative bank's customer adviser was very helpful, and the fee had already been wavered as it was the first time it had happened on my account.  He also gave me very sound advice on what to do if I thought it would happen next time. And, surprise surprise, virgin media was all too helpful when I called them too sort it out.

I am actually to the point where I want to be working again... But because of change in my capabilities I need to do a phased return to work. Ultimately I may even have to switch jobs, if my current job triggers to many seizures. Of course, that's only something only time will tell.

There's just a few many things on my needed list a the moment, like new glasses. The reduction in inter-cranial pressure means my distance prescription is right off now. A new pair is in £200 region.

If I had to make a wish list this would be it

- lack of seizures (unlikely, I haven't had any untriggered ones for a little while but the triggers are everyday occurrences)

- Ability to work enough hours to not have to worry about loss of SSP and housing support that my return to work will mean.

- new glasses

- new laptop

- clear MRI

- for any seizure I do have to a) not give me muscular weakness and lock of motor control in right side, b) to not the aforementioned persist after a seizure has long ended

- no need for a cane (see previous sentence)

- Oh and since I'm asking for the impossible or the improbable - wealth, fame and fortune?

Change is an odd, odd thing

I've slipped back into my writing blog well and truly.  I'm managing to pump out at least 1 piece of flash fiction a day.  I can only hope this consistency holds up once I start work again because I'm coming to realize just how important it is for me to be able to write. 

I have often needed to put aside who I am to get by.  Responsibilities, maturity, care and compassion for other ect. have always been the forefront of my behaviour.  And while these are, on occasion, traits that I have had thrust on me by necessity, they are also traits I accept as a side of myself. But while this is the case I have also let a very large part of myself go undernourished because of circumstances. Underneath the surface I have passion and creativity that has not been directed properly. In continuing to write I feel I am becoming more myself then ever; which is a very odd feeling indeed.

I am also noticing odd things - such as the fact that the more I write the more Australian I sound. Which is hilarious given how long I have been in England.

The long of the short here is that I have been forced through a period of rapid growth, and I'm not at all unhappy with it.  Though that's not to say that there aren't things I would rather not have happened in the last year. But no matter what choices we make there will always be choices made for us whether it's by live or by those closest to us.

A poem and a short fic in one day?

OMG I've actually been productive. Don't die on me now. ;) I kicked the day off to a start with The lion and the wolf; a bittersweet poem about mis-matched couples. I took that momentum and carried through with The Blackout; a short piece of rom-com fic in 100 words that was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge. And I'm still considered writing another scene for my current project, a romance with both supernatural and crime-related action elements.

In other news I have given Crazy Thoughts a complete over haul.  How is the new look?

Tragic dreams inspiring poetry!

There are some questions you do not ask yourself in the middle of the night. Your brain will be so caught up trying to give you an answer that it will cook up strange dreams that won't actually be an answer to the question you asked but a response to the emotions behind the question. The brain has a funny way of subconsciously solving this emotion based niggles. The answers are almost always wrapped up in difficult to interpret dream signs that actually cause more confusion then they answer.

What was my question? I was wondering about past lives, more specifically, my own. No this is an area that is best left up to your personal beliefs but my personal belief is in the rebirth/re-incarnation cycle. In fact I feel I have occasional glimpses at that former self - to experience the memory of final moments certain sent a shiver down my spine. That, gratefully, was not what I was thinking about last night. When I dwell on those glimpses I sense that there was a person whom this other self loved beyond all reason; someone for whom they willingly threw their life away in battle for. Of course, it was late in the night and I began wondering if I had met or would meet that person in this life time. This was not a good point in the train of thought to fall asleep...

My dream was sad, I warn you now. It starts of with a man putting a letting a waterproof case and attaching to the bottom of an iceberg. Then I see a family home. My kid (which I have none of) is playing in the background and I am unable to focus on cooking dinner - it keeps going wrong. The man from before begins to play with the kid and offers ice cream although dinner has not been had. Feeling frustrated and sad I open the fridge to discover he has labeled absolutely everything ( including stuff that already out of date). Next thing I know I am watching him leave, not stopping him and shedding not tears, asking the universe if this is how it's meant to be. The next thing I know my attention is call back to the iceberg. I realise that the letter is a representation of what he feels and believes. Then there is this terrible knowledge that archeologist in a distant future will know more about his state of mind then I ever will.

It was at this point that I woke up feeling like an unchangable tragedy had happened.
But I wrote a nice poem as a result!

New year's resolutions, huh?

It's 2:30 am. I am awake. Very awake, and not because I want to be. Ironically, instead of staying up this late playing games or reading or doing something as equally more fun then sleeping I actually went to sleep early (well, fell asleep with lights on but it still counts!)  When I woke up I had some very coherent ideas for the current writing project, which if I can cure the habit of switching projects, will actually be a complete story line (huzzah!) After a very productive note session I'm now in the middle of a brain slump - caused for the first time in ages by actually cognitive work. So now, I brood...

I say brood, it's really just quizzical thoughts on the whole concept of new years resolutions. I did not make any this year - this in itself is fine as they never are remembered past the first week.  My problem this year is that my concerns are very simple, and I have no desire to set goals.  My only determination at this point is to make it too 28 alive. Simple, neh? It would be nice to have an idea of where, or what I want to be by 2016 but at this point it is not possible.  I'm too close to my brush with death; and I have had far to many difficult changes forced on me to know where I stand let alone knowing what I want to do in the future.  In small ways I am already moving forward, concrete 'resolutions' or not.  I am learning how to cope with and, importantly, predict my seizures, and while i'm not comfortable with the need, if only occasional, for a cane at my age I'm just counting myself lucky that I can walk at all.  I'm pushing myself out of the god-awful depression that was pulling me backwards post surgery, and trying to test the new boundaries to physical and mental capabilities. I would like to keep faith in myself at this point, rather then be beat down by others nonsensical ideas.

Overall, I'd say if I had a resolution this year it would be to continue to grow, rather then to let the hurt of the past year weigh me down.

Gah, get it off the radio!

Thanks kerrang!  To give this station credit they are actually not ramming traditional Christmas songs down our throats. However there have been a few songs that mention Christian or relate to Christmas. So far, it's depressing... Lonely day?? Thanks for the pick me up. Kinda makes you feel like life not worth it. The theme song of m.a.s.h. Was more subtle....

Randomness of coping mechinisms

It's hard to find meaning in life these days. I have never been one for plans, but I was fairly sure of my path until recently. There was so much I was certain of, things I was sure I was going to do; even people I wanted to do them with. It unthinkable, until it happens to you, just how much of your world can be destroyed. And it rarely matters what causes this destruction, a loved one, a twist of fate, or a time bomb you never knew was there; the after effects of the same.

Grief. Anger. Self-pity. Just to name a few. These emotions ensnare and entomb one if not careful. For every step forward, you're tugged 2 back. In a way it is a trap that is almost sweet to fall into. What better way to deal with the unfairness of life then to rail against it? The relief seems bittersweet. But then I have always had a bittersweet palette.

It is impossible to remain trapped in this more forever. In a sense coping mechanisms creep up on you.  Sometimes in the most amusing way possible as well.  Today I was laughing like a lunatic as staggered over to a bench gripping the wall with both hands as minor convulsions start to tremor down my right side.  I had to hold onto the wall, because I was not sure my leg would hold me much longer but all I think of was crazy I must look.

Another aspect? I suddenly realized I like my new short hairstyle. This was a weird realization, as I liked it immediately after it was cut.  I had only practical thoughts in mind, ie. short hair will be easier for the surgery team to deal, make post-op wound care easier to deal with ect.  It just suits my hair so well; it spikes with no product and still looks great if I don't clean or brush it. Which is great, considering my head is still tender, and likely to be for a long time.

I'm actually finding more energy and interest in activities I have been too fatigue to do for years, which is a bonus.  I actually find myself tempted to take up basketball or tennis or another sport again, even though my body will protest.  The way in which re-invention present itself in life can be downright weird.

But then it's nearly 2 in the morning and I'm struggling to sleep again; despite fatigue.

The dangers of free writing

In free-writing the idea is to write whatever comes to mind. The benefits of this is it ignores inhibitions and one is less likely to think about the value of what one is writing so it frees up the ability to produce a quantity of words in a short time frame. When this the goal then it is a quick way to succeed. However, every time I free write I always regret looking over what I have written as the quality becomes more inconsistent and the prose disjointed as I go on. This is where it as advantageous to have a plan or goal in mind for the section you are planning to write.

I am not even 2000 words into my novel challenge, and I am already annoyed with the quality of what I have written. It is nothing a complete rewrite won't cure. But when considering a drastic action with a section of prose one always needs to consider if it is even worth it. I am almost considering a restart with new idea. Problem is my mental energy is just too sapped.

Current word count: 1830

Butterflies

Hungry little caterpillar

spinning a cocoon

Dreaming of the day

she will fly away soon.

Seasons shift, time flows forward

Our little caterpillar releases from her dreams.

I've always seen butterflies as a symbol of change. At this point in my life there is no symbol more representative of my experience.  I can effectively say my life as it was is currently in tatters without being overly dramatic. I no longer know who I am or where I'm going.  I am left with the singular option of walking forward, hoping not to stumble.  Meanwhile, I turn back to my literary pursuits; there's nothing more helpful then escapism into the written world.