STFU

I need to stop...reading shit. I do. It just pisses me off.

I am a pitiless being in so many ways, and it's totally subjective. I base everyone's experiences on my own and I judge people based on my own shit. It's graceless and tacky and nasty, but...for fuck's sake, if THEY can get petted and soothed and placated for the 'wrong' feelings they have from their personal traumas, why the fuck can't I?

I've been raped and molested. I've been a stripper. I've had an abortion and more than one miscarriage. I've battled depression my whole life. I've got Daddy issues. I was bullied. I've got enough baggage to fill a 747 luggage compartment, and plenty of bad shit in my past.

And it pisses me the FUCK off when people can't get over their crap.

I mean, legitimate fury. And I think I just figured out why:

The squeaky wheel gets the oil.

It's the people who won't get over their shit that get the attention, the support, the encouragement, the validation. Those of us who fought tooth and nail to rise above whatever fuckery slammed into us don't. We just don't. Sure, that's logical - once you're out of the pit, you don't need a hand up, right? You made it. Help is for those who are still down there, drowning. And yes, yes that's reasonable.

But they have all sorts of unreasonable feelings, and so do I. I'm ashamed of women who have trigger words. I'm ashamed of chicks who take a year to recover from a miscarriage. I'm embarrassed for people who won't get on the meds they need or get therapy when they say themselves that they need it but  are 'stuck in a downward spiral'. I kind of want to punch them all in the face. Hard.

All that shit is real, and super serious, and I absolutely believe people go through legitimate misery when they occur. I know I sure did. And most if it is shit that stays with you forever in some way. I am not saying a woman who gets raped in an alley should stand up, brush off her skirt, and keep strolling along. I am just pissed and ashamed people continue to allow those things to fuck with them after a while. Knock that crap off. Make that kind of bullshit UN.AC.CEPT.ABLE.

Here's the thing - I am not a special case. I'm not. If anything, the chips are stacked against me because I'm a very sensitive (not in the cool artist way, but in the annoying tread-on-eggshells way) person. I'm not particularly strong emotionally. And I say this because everything I got through and over, took ridiculous amounts of work. And it sucked. But if I can do it, anyone can. I am not special. I'm a melodramatic attention whore and I STILL don't fly to pieces when someone says the word 'banana' because it reminds me of a penis.

It's unreasonable. I know. But doesn't anyone ever check themselves and say 'I am no longer willing for this to be a daily issue' and then DO something about it?? Or are there plenty of people who do, and I just don't know about it because they, like me, aren't squeaking? Are we all just crawling silently up out of our pits? I hope so.

Test of Mettle

We lost our Eleanor; not sure if she bailed for the reason she told us (mom is sick) or if it's something else. I've been fighting for months to find someone. We had rehearsal slated, were going to have almost all the cast here to do read-throughs, we started blocking and now...pfft. Back on hold. And by the time we're greenlit again, we may have lost our make-up artist. Very, very discouraging.

Started the new script today. I'm struggling. I can't do comedy. I've never tried, I have no clue how it works and I'm really self-conscious about it. I had to make the characters at least semi-intelligent because I don't think I can  manage it any other way. Right now, my goal is to make them charming. Making them funny may have to come later in re-writes, and with help. Maybe they'll start talking to me now that I've given then names.

The Boys still isn't uploaded - we've had problem after problem. I'm frustrated. Making movies, I've come to realize, is like having constant iCurses. Things never go smoothly and only get completed because you slog through stuff and force it to work. All the elation from the premiere, all the people calling to say 'I had no idea it'd be that good' seems to've fizzled out. We're losing what enthusiasm we had from people because nothing's going up. The Boys should have been on YouTube last Saturday. It's costing more than I think people realize to keep delaying. I look at the NIZ site and realize I've nothing to say. That's not good.

Sometimes Muses need a Muse. That ain't happening, though. So, off I go to try and crank out one more page of a script.

State Of The Doo-nion.

N1Z continues on apace, with great success. I said the first real milestone would be to receive a submission from a total stranger - that happened yesterday. It may seem insignificant, but it means we've stepped outside our circle and the project is speaking to people we don't even know. To me, that's amazing.

I'm jumping the gun, but I found perfect e-vites for the premiere of The Boys. Whatever, I was bored and Smilebox is fun to pooter around in.

This Friday is Changeling, Sat is Vamp character creation night.

I have a full docket of writing to do - Space, 'ludes, tweaking Lots Caste. I have a new script idea, but I'm daunted by how hard it'd be to produce. It's a shame, because the images in my head get me really excited.

One thing I want to explore in N1Z is the other side of humanity - the people who find out they have less than a day to live, and decide to do some terrible stuff on their way out. I also want to write a buddy black comedy about two schmoes who work at a fire-lot, a giant space used for cremating huge quantities of Mercy Center dead and reanimated.

Who would've guessed my muse would be undead?

Verges and Converges

I'm homeless, 'Net-wise. Or transient. I'm trying to put down roots, but am unsure where they should go. What I really need to do is set something up for the N1Z people - talent, crew, viewers - to talk, but I'm not sure how to go about that. Maybe a sub-section on the 'cast forums, I guess. Ideally it'd be on the blog itself, but I'm not sure how to make that work.

Driftin'

I'm getting ready to get off of G+. I may move over to Twitter if I find I absolutely must write bites of text, but mostly I'll be here.

I like G+. It has the convenience of Twitter without the word limitation. It's just become weird to sit and read posts from people I used to be really involved with and who I now see maybe once a month for a couple of hours where we do an activity that, while I like it, is the lowest wrung of my hobby/interest ladder these days - as in, if I had to cut one thing out of my life, it'd be LARP well before 'casting or NIZ.

I just don't relate any more to that old crowd. I don't get SCA at all (my original idea of what it was excited me, then I found out what it actually was and immediately lost interest), I'm in different games than they are, and common interests beyond that are thin on the ground. Which is appropriate, as gaming is what introduced me to folks in the first place. So, reading the G+ posts constantly drives home the point that I am really different than the people in my Circles. I guess I always was, but matched-up hobbies glossed it over.

There 'tis.

As Requested

Larger image of my icon. Click for full size. I love that dress.

Confidence In Confidence Alone

I took Bailey to get her hair cut yesterday and she got at least seven or eight inches taken off. When it was done and styled, she pranced out of the chair, flipped her hair and said - 'I look AMAZING'. She spent the next two hours talking about how wonderful she looked and felt; it wasn't conceit or ego, just effusive delight. I got her a new outfit to go with the new look. She was in heaven.

Beyond the basic food, shelter and love needs, I've had one thing I wanted to make sure she always possessed, and that's self-confidence. I fought her whole life to ensure she always felt like a worthwhile human being; that she felt beautiful, smart, capable and kind. It does my heart good to know she looks in the mirror and, while not seeing perfection, sees an image of which she is proud and pleased. I am gratified that the bombardment of media and peers and everything else did not shake her foundation of self-worth. There were times when it was an uphill battle, but to hear her say 'I'm not perfect, but I'm pretty darn happy about my looks' makes it all worth it.