26 June, 2017

happy end

depression is a part of my life. has been for years, and likely will be the last thing holding my hand as i die (that's loyalty, baby!) as a result, i've developed a whole host of coping mechanisms: i don't watch sad movies or tv shows, i won't read sad books. i do like sad music, but that's because it soothes instead of saddening me, but i do know some, for whom the effect of sad music is just as awful. i'm not saying i'm particularly dainty but my feelings are rather easily dented, and a horrific movie can affect my emotions for days.

over the last month, i've become engrossed in this wonderfully written series, and within that series, i've grown very fond of one character. in the middle book, he is treated abominably by... life? fate? the author? and it hurt. the last book is entirely about him, and the end is a goddamn heartbreak. sure, there is peace as well, but after the life this character has had, he could have used a few nice things before shuffling off this mortal coil in peace.

so, why am i telling you this? i'm telling you this because while the middle book's events affected me emotionally to a great degree, the last book has had me crying uncontrollably. even now, as i write this, i have tears falling down my face and mucking up my reading glasses, and i feel the pain in my chest that often accompanies really bad emotions. so other than feeling my feelings, i've also been trying to figure out why this particular character has affected me so. i mean i've cried in books before, but this feels so very fucking sharp that i'm starting to worry about myself.

the books are beautifully written and the stories are fascinating, but had i known how i would come to feel with the last one (or even the latter half of the second) i'd likely have skipped it. i really would have. there ought to be a tear-o-meter attached to reviews, so that it can help people like me. if i'm to be broken by your story, i'll pass, thank you. i won't watch disney's animal movies where the faithful dog gives his life to save the little boy precisely for that reason. i have enough of my own shitty emotions that i really don't need to import any.

the thing is, ever since i've started writing my smutty books, i've become more aware of the limitations of authorial power - there are things that happen to the characters you created that you really have no power over. i know the general outline of my story before i write it (and yes, there is a fair bit of story telling involved, not just the naughty bits... though there's a fair bit of those too), but as i get to know my characters, things happen that i did not expect. and so as much as i'd like to kick robert jackson bennett in the shins for what he did, i know that he's likely feeling just as broken up about it as i am. not that i forgive him, though.

and so you can take this as an implicit promise to always give you a happy ending in whatever i write. and if i should break that promise for reasons outside of my control, you have my permission to come here and kick me in the shins. because life gives us all sorts of shitty endings; the least we can hope for is a happy ending in a book.

and if you're looking at this as a review of the books, i can wholeheartedly recommend them, unless you're an emotional mess, in which case maybe read the first one, and then move on to a nice happy garfield comic.

24 June, 2017

saturday night party time

old marrieds:

we were supposed to go out for a dinner and a movie. seemed like *so* much work. so not doing that. nope.

moi: can we puhleeeze order a shitty pizza for dinner?

mr. monkey: yes.

moi: awesome! i'm going to get drunk now!

smut update:

smut writing is my most favourite thing in my life right now, bar none. (ok, that video with the baby elephant chasing the geese was pretty high up there but not quite right at the top. also: baby hippos. also, reading this. but other than that, writing smut is something i look forward to all the time, think about all the time, come up with ideas all the time, talk about all the time, etc.)

at any rate, i finished writing the first book. almost finished the second. am knee-deep in the third. am terrified what will happen when the stories in my head stop, when i've emptied all that is in there and i am left alone with my big ole empty head. but for now: reading and writing and clumsy baby elephants!

10 June, 2017

shaken not stirred

my life here in texas has been decidedly minimalist when it comes to social interactions (if not house size and growing number of possessions*) and i'm fine with it. i talk to my YEG crew almost every day and i love it as much as i need it, but since TB left us to return to canada in his retirement, there are very few people i really want to see. however - i've become friendly with our next door neighbour, a woman with two young kids about 14 years my junior. you can tell she craves company and we enjoy the odd lunch or hang out. today i went with her and her kids to the local farmers' market, then told her they were welcome to hang by our pool if they wanted. a few hours later they came and then another friend joined us, and then a couple with two more children. by the time early evening rolled around we have 6 adults and 4 kids and my ambivert nature pendulum swung decidedly to the intro- side and i began to feel unwell. there was a physical aspect to it and once most people left, i ate the belated supper that mr. monkey cooked for us, and then went upstairs. the guys laughed at me, telling me i was breaking my record for going to bed early and i could not explain to them that i don't need to be in bed - i need to be alone. i went upstairs, did yoga, showered, and popped an ativan because i was actually physically shaking but should be ok soon because i am blessedly alone.

thing is - you cannot explain this to some people. the response is usually a very good natured, "stay with us! it'll be fun!" or a less good natured, "why don't you want to hang out with us?" and other assorted attempts to cajole or guilt me into staying. and when the other parties don't suffer from a similar personality type, they do. not. get. the. need. to. be. alone. the physical, visceral, deep-seated, bone-deep need to not be around anyone else. i'm not rude. i'm not standoffish. i'm not an asshole (well, sometimes i am an asshole, but that's neither here nor there), but i need this. this is the point in the party if i'm out somewhere, that i bid a discreet adieu to the host or hostess ("aaw! stay a little longer! come on!) and i leave. i walk home, even if the walk is lengthy and it's snowing out. it's rare that i let it get to the point that i did today and thank god, cause i feel like shit right now and all because i suddenly developed an allergy to humans when i was surrounded by them.

there are some exceptions to the rule - some people (and you know who you are) whom i can see and want to see and even sometimes need to see even when i don't want to see anyone. people, i guess, who don't qualify as anyone. there aren't any here anymore.

well, the lorazepam is slowly unkinking the frazzled heap of my neurons. thank FUCK for drugs.

tomorrow, i shall speak to no one.

*yes, spoons, too, why'd you ask?