So Close, I Can Taste It!

The finish line.

It is "RIGHT THERE"!!

So damn close, but still seemingly so far away.
It can come to a screeching halt without warning.
And that is what I am afraid of.
That the words will not come.

There are two days left to NaNo.
Today and Tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning is tied with getting ready for our feast
Tomorrow afternoon is tied up with eating and *gasp* socializing.
That leaves me with tomorrow evening if I do not finish or get close to
finishing today.

I only need 4822 words total. Or if I do half and half, then 2411 today
and the same tomorrow.

I was excited to  write some new stuff for the novel last night.
I want to create a gnome or some gnomes that become blade smiths.
By Gnomes, think World of Warcraft types as far as appearance goes.
Though, a Garden Gnome being a master blade smith would be rather
amusing. .OOH new thought, the Garden Gnome is the trainer who teaches
my WOW type Gnome how to do the craft.  That would be hilarious I think.
Well it would to me anyway. 

This is all something that I was not planning on.  Another one of those ideas
that came out of the blue that I was trying to hash out.  Do you know, if you
Google  "bladesmith gnomes or some combination string of the like", you end up
with either nothing relateable OR you get dwarves.  Dwarves, I had not planned
on either, but apparently they are going to at least get a mention for right now.

I love the new ideas, but they are so far from my original idea oh so many years ago.
Not a bad thing, evolving is good. In this case. I think.
It just means more research and exploring down the line. 
I do not want to get too heavily wrapped in the research rabbit hole because
that will just blow my writing words right out of the water.  And I can't have that.
Not now.

My biggest concern after reaching my end goal for November, is that I will
fall right back into the trap I have every year and that is that come December,
I stop writing. Then it just sits on the back burner, forgotten until Camp NaNo
comes around in April. Then forgotten again until July. Rinse and repeat into
the following November.  If I can sit my ass down and write shitty words
every day for a month, why then can't I keep going? That has been my dilemma
since 2005.  Only back then, there was no Camp NaNo.

Back then though, the problem was the nagging from the not yet ex. That and the
why are you writing that when you should be writing this instead.  I think that
was more my pit fall than anything else.  He was "supportive" in an undermining
sort of way.  I do not have that now. 

Now it is dogs and cats. And The Little Monster or the Little Bug or both at the same
time.  It is errands and life that has to be lived during the day where distractions run
amok. Sometimes it is the pain is too bad to do much, though other than my hands and my
hips or lower back, it has been deal - with - able.  I know I could have just said  tolerable.
But my brain paused and could not find that word in that moment lol.

Today writing will be  interrupted by pre prepping foods for tomorrow.
There is the five layer salad to make.
And some other salad.  Apple pie is baking.  There might be some
pumpkin banana bread to make still, if there is enough pumpkin left over.
Prep the sweet potato casserole. And the green bean casserole, leaving off
the fried onions until tomorrow.  It is not "a lot" by any means, but it is
enough to cause pause  in writing.

But when all that is done, I think I will find another ambient video on
You Tube and put on my headphones and get some of those words done.

If you are braving the roads and the crowds today for those sales,
Please Please do be careful out there.

Happy Thanksgiving And Other Stuffs

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Hope your day is going well and that tummies are full.

Our celebratory dinner will be on Saturday.  That is when everyone is
off of work collectively.  Today and tomorrow we will be prepping pies and a few
side dishes. Someone else cooks the turkey and brings it, so that frees up a lot of
room in our oven. Though I do miss making a turkey.....Sometimes lol


Still plugging away at the writing.  As of this moment, I need about 8500 words to win.
To make it easier for my math skills, I will round it to say 9000, which means 3000 words
a day for the next three days.  I can do it, if I really push myself and use a lot of run on sentences lol.


I made my first chicken soup of the season and boy was it good!
I am usually pretty picky about how I make it and how it tastes.
I have been trying to make Polish chicken soup for a long time now and
I fail every time at it.  My broth, even though it might taste really good, turns out not as
clear as it should for that type.  Yesterday was the closest I ever came to a clear broth.
Then I shredded the chicken and suddenly there was not enough broth.  Damn it! 
That is almost always my other problem. Never enough broth.  Oh well it was tasty and that is
what was most important.


We are currently awaiting the third of the snow storms they have predicted.
So far for us here, the storms have fizzled out and were duds. 
We barely got a dusting that was gone by about ten o'clock.
We heard for the first time the other day that it is the Owyhee Mountains that
is actually keeping us from getting the two or more inches we were said to get.
They act like a barrier and so when the storm hits them, it slows it way down or it
fizzles out.
I am disappointed because I was actually looking forward to some snow.


It is getting really hard to sit by and say nothing about that situation I wrote about the other day.
Every day is something new.  For example, the person I care about came down with a terrible
migraine and what was a possible sinus infection. So they went to the doctor to make sure and thankfully there is no infection. Just a combination sinus pressure headache and migraine.  They were made to feel guilty for not picking up baby afterwards to take care of her.
Baby's daddy had minor surgery last week, but he said he and baby were doing fine.
He understood about the migraine and was not about to impose.  Baby's momma was not
so understanding.  Then there was some shit she bitched about yesterday that was
unnecessary as well.  Again making this person feel like crap. 
I swear, I do not know how much longer I can hold my tongue here.
If she says shit on Saturday, I just might go off.
I might burn some bridges in the process, but something needs to be said.

It is like she is the only one with problems, No one else can have anything going
on in their life.  No one can get sick or feel under the weather but her.
Her life is perfection and every one else's life is shit and boring, in her opinion.
She finds fault with everything and everyone.  It is exhausting and frustrating.

I have lived this before.  I have been on the receiving end. It sucks.
I also have taken it laying  down because I did not feel like I could
stand up for myself or fight back.  I know how this feels. 
I want so badly to fix it.  The Scorpio in me wants so badly to call
them out on their bullshit.  But I have to repeat over and over,
"Not my circus, not my monkeys."   So I will stay quiet for as long as I can.
Maybe it will just blow over, but I doubt it.

Well, I guess I should see what is next on the prepping list to do.
If it is something that can wait a few, I should get to some writing.

Have safe holiday, and be careful tomorrow if you go brave the stores.

When People Expect More Than You Can Give

It really pains me to have to sit back and silently watch as
people take advantage of and put such demands on some one I care for.
This person already gives and gives and gives so much.
And yet for some people, it is not enough and they want, no they demand more from
this person. 

Having to sit here and bite my tongue as they say is really wearing me thin.
I think part of that is because I see myself letting others take advantage of me.
When I was not allowed to have boundaries.  Even now, I find it extremely
difficult to enforce my boundaries because I am so conditioned to not enforce them.

This person is expected to care for the other person's child whether they are sick
or injured or just plain exhausted.  It does not matter what the person might have going
on in their life. They are just supposed to arrange their life and their schedule around
this other person's demands.  And if they try to say they can't, the other person lays a
guilt trip so thick it's like you are wading knee deep in bullshit.

And then you have another person who comes and says they wish the person was
more like this other gal's mom because she takes her grandkid  for like three days a week,
including nights.

I mean if you choose to have a kid or many, is it not your responsibility to make sure
you can take care of them? And if you choose to work, is it not your responsibility to
make sure you have childcare and back up care if one falls through for some reason?

Is this how it is?
Is this the reality of things?
That people having kids have these unreasonable expectations
of their extended family. 

I mean, maybe I am just jaded or something.
When I had kids, I did it all alone.
Doctors appointments, shopping, caring for them.
I did not expect anyone to do anything for me or them.
Well except their father and apparently even that was unreasonable.
Because he worked you know. How dare I want him to help with his
off spring when he came home or on the weekend.

I never expected anyone to drop everything to go anywhere with me.
Or to do anything for me.
If I was sick or injured, I had to manage.

Maybe it is because I had no family around me, immediate or extended
when I had my kids.  Maybe it is because I grew up knowing there was no
expectation of someone else to take care of me.

My mother was A LOT of things.   And my mother fucked me royally.
But the one thing my mother did not do is expect anyone else to
take care of me.  She may have resented me and hated that I existed, but
still in her own way, she took care of me.  She might have been a sick
and twisted bitch, but she made sure I was taken care of and not pawned
off on the nearest family member. 
I think it was a matter of I do not want her, but no one else can have her either.

Seeing people unreasonable expect another to give and give until there is nothing
left and then expect them to give some more.  Seeing people give so much to
please other people and make them happy and as a result lose themselves and
are falling apart. It hurts. And the people doing the  taking do not care that the one they are
taking from is hurting or ill or lost.  They just take and take and take
because they feel like they are entitled to it.

And when asked do you not care how you making someone else feel with their
behavior. They say they do not care, it is how they are and people need to just
deal with it.  The whole yeah I am a bitch and I know and I do not care who
I am hurting attitude sucks and is fucking cruel.

All I can do is sit by and watch because it is not my battle.
I can listen when this person needs me to. I can offer words if they want me to.
But I can't stand up for them. They have to set those boundaries themselves.
They are not mine to set.

I know, I am not really one to talk.
I still have great difficulty setting and keeping my own boundaries.
I still struggle with that.  People make you feel guilty and say you are selfish for
setting boundaries and trying to stick to them.
But gods forbid you accidentally breach their boundaries, then all hell breaks loose.

I can go round and round on this with no solution.
So I think I will end my rant here.

I Might Not Win This One

I have not even broken 40,000 yet.
I am getting a little bummed that I might not make it, I might not win this NaNo.
It will be close if I miss the mark I think.

These last few days of writing, even though going well are not making the numbers I need.
I need about 2500 words a day for the rest of the month to win. Not an impossibility by any means.
I did write almost 3400 the other day.  It is just timing.  During the day, it is not always easy to get my writing done.  Most times it is the couple of hours before I go to bed where I do best. Unless I
am tired or hurting, then it cuts into my word count.

Either way, it is better than no words at all.
So how ever it ends, I am okay with it.

In other news...
I got new glasses.
My first pair in ten years.
And my eyes have changed.
A LOT!

How did they eye doctor put it?   Mother Nature caught up with me and beat me with her stick.  LOL.
This eye doctor is great.  He has such a sense of humor.
The up side, he said my eyes and all the vessels and such were very healthy.
I passed the new test that they offer that checks peripheral vision. Not an easy test I can tell ya.
But my vision is bad enough that he recommended progressive lenses.
They are interesting to wear. That is for sure!

I picked them up today, but I need to take them back to have the frames tweaked a hair.
Otherwise they are good so far.  I was worried I would not get used to them.
But I think I will be okay with them.


Oh, did I mention that I will be getting to check another thing off my bucket list?
So um...in April.
I will be going to see CHER in concert!
Oh.......My........Gosh!!!!!!!!!!


We are expecting snow for Thanksgiving.
We are actually in a Winter Weather Watch and a High Wind Watch.
I am not too thrilled about the wind one at all!
And to the fact that the high winds are supposed to hit over night tomorrow.
UGH!!!
Hopefully the wind will not be awful.

Nine Days Left To NaNoWriMo

Well....
I am sitting at 29,228 out 50,000 words so far.  I am supposed to be after today, at 36,667.  I am a "little bit" behind still.  Okay okay, maybe a lot.  I took the remaining words needed between now and the end of the month and if I do about 2350 a day, I will make it.

As I said in another post, I shifted gears a bit and began working on something else.
Not because I am not loving my fantasy novel, because I am.  I am really curious to see where it all goes.  But I have some things to work on in my head and now I have some Gnomes that want to be a part of the story.  I mean...hell if I am going to pause the writing, it might as well be for Gnomes.  Every fantasy story always has stuff that includes elves, dwarves, men or humans of course, maybe some Hobbit like race. Dragons, naturally.  But what about the Gnomes??  I do not mean the garden variety type. Not that they are not cute or anything because they are and I love them.  I am thinking something more along the lines of those in the Warcraft universe.  I have not worked it out yet, nor have I begun to do some research yet. But I might try to do that this weekend.

I mainly have not gotten too much done there because thanksgiving is coming.  And I have to help with the Little Bug during the week when ever we have her.  So I do not like to dive too deeply into a rabbit hole when she is around.

I have been working on my memories story.  And it is bringing stuff up for me, which I am okay with since I am trying to remember things.  Which I have been. But there is still so much I can't remember or that is blocked.

Debra made a good point in her comment to my other post.  It is something that I never even considered.  I never thought of my father as the actor type, or showing different sides to different people.  Most of the stories of my dad before I was born gave me the impression that he was timid, perhaps shy, or dare I say weak.  I do not know how to describe what I mean by weak.  Maybe it is because I never saw him as one who would stand up for himself.  I never saw him be physically abusive until I was in my teens.

I always felt like his drinking was his liquid courage to  stand up to my mother. To say things to her he would never have the balls to say while he was sober.

But then, I think about when I was a freshman in high school.  I was missing a lot of days of school. A concerned teacher talked to me one day and brought me to a counselor in the school.  We had a program called SPARK.  It was a safe place that us kids could go to and talk about problems we might be having.  Some where along the way that year, I was brought or sent to another, I think pair of counselors.  They were different than the first one.  They were concerned about abuse. As was I. I was not even sure if what I was living constituted as abuse. They told me I could self report to children's services.  And that a caseworker would investigate.  Maybe the counselors were a little surprised, but I told them to make the call.

I do not know if I was looking to give my parents a wake up call, a kick in the ass to see themselves as being toxic, or if I truly wanted to be removed from my home. Since no one else was standing up for me, I tried to stand up for myself.

And lo and behold, when the case workers came to the house to question and "investigate", these two came off as pillars of  society and ideal parents.  They both fooled the case workers with their bullshit. So my case was closed as unfounded.  I was devastated that no one believed me again.  Things had not gotten physical yet, but I did not feel safe.  But I feel like I was painted as a child just looking to get back at their parents for something they did not like.

Almost two years later, my father would threaten to kill me and try to attack us with a golf club.  A couple of months prior to that, my father tried to molest me not for the first time either.  I do not think he was ever successful, but then I can't remember for sure. And so I wonder if that is something I blocked out.

Once again, I turned to others for help. Told them what he did or tried to do. Once again, I was not believed. Once again, I was told "Oh he would not do that. Not to you.  He loves you so much."  Maybe he did. Maybe he did not.  But I can't remember how many times that year I was sixteen that my father said he would kill me, kill us.  Then that night finally came and he tried.  I think the only thing that saved us was he was drunk.  My mother managed to wrestle the golf club away from him.  Somehow, it ended up in my hands.  My then boyfriend, who incidentally was also physically abuse to me was there and he was trying to attack or subdue my father, I can't say which it was now.  I had the golf club.  Both my mother and then boyfriend were wrestling on the bed with my father.  I started beating my father's leg  with the golf club in an effort to make him stop. It is a wonder I did not break his shin bone or ankle.  It was bruised pretty good though afterwards.  I can't say how many times I hit him before he stopped fighting with them.

I think the police ended up coming and made him leave.  Or maybe, he left on his own at that point.  We tried to lock him out of the house, but the landlady moved the ironing board my mother used to bar the downstairs door.  Some how we kept him from coming into the apartment.  Or maybe he was just too drunk to work the key in that lock. He kept going on about needing the bathroom and ended up  pissing through the door into the foyer.  Then he slept on the landing a bit, I heard him snoring.  It was a long night.  I think he must have got up for work in the morning because he was gone. 

The next morning or day, we told my grandmother what happened.  And guess what? She did not believe it.  I, instead, got scolded for hitting him and bruising his leg.  My father did not come home after that again.  But at the same time, we were also evicted from our apartment a few months later.  The landlady had said if there was another incident with police coming to the house, we would have to move.  Apparently too, my mother stopped paying the rent.  With her pay check, we could not pay rent, utilities, and get groceries.  My then boy friend started living with us and he did not help with the bills. 

Maybe my father just did not remember doing what he did.  Maybe that is why it was easy for him to deny it.  I would not have ever hit him if I was not trying to defend myself or was afraid for my life.

I question though, if could do that then, why did I not defend myself against the physically abusive boyfriend.  Why did I allow that to go on for almost two years?  And then, how did I end up in an the emotionally and mentally abusive relationship that lasted a couple of decades?

Always searching for answers I might not ever find.

Hands Hurt, But I Am Still Going

I am a bit behind in the word count again. But I have not given up.
Any words are better than no words, is the motto among NaNo people.
As of last night, I was just under 25,000 words.  And the goal for this point
was 26,667.

My hands hurt, well I can't quite say hurt is the right word. But flexing and
un-flexing, is uncomfortable. They are not exactly stiff, but maybe weak is the
word I am looking for. Gripping things makes it feel like I will drop something.
And late in the day or evening, my ring finger and pinkie on either or both hands
have a tendency to get stiff and - or lock up for a brief minute or so. I cannot
let this kind of stuff hold me back. Or else I will never get any writing or art done.

While I am trying to work out some kinks with the fiction stuff.
Being a Genealogy nerd, I am trying to work out the family tree for my Main Character.
I initially had one of the characters as her great grandmother, but as I was writing the
story, that turned out wrong and it became her grandmother.  I still want it to be her Great 
Grand so I am looking at things to figure out how I can make that happen.  Though, I might
just leave it for now and work it out later, if it ends up taking too much more time.

In the mean time though, I am working on writing down memories in a diary type style.
Every evening, I try to write some of the earliest things I remember.
I have some entries with just things like "First Grade" it was an uneventful  school year.
Then I try to remember things that happened that year.
Like with "Second Grade" and my Great Grandfather dying, how it was the first death
I remember.  Trying to remember home life at specific points when you have blocked
things is interesting.
The other night, after I had gone to bed I recalled something I needed to write for a specific
time period, and when I got up the next day I forgot  again what it was.
Yesterday, I think I remembered it. But I am not sure. 
We did not have the most exciting life.
We were not jet setters or rich.
But then, that is not the point. The point was to help me remember things I had long forgotten
so I can help myself heal from things.

I am still grappling with the whole why did no body believe me when I said this or that happened.
Why, if it was known that my father was allegedly violet before I was born, did no body believe
that he had gotten violent on this or that occasion after and when I was old enough to remember and
experience it.
I was lucky in that he did not carry through on his treats. The first time was when I was twelve or so
and had to call the police because he tried to push my mother out the kitchen window.
The operator would not believe me and kept insisting that my father would not hurt my mother.
My Grandmother would not believe that he tried to do that either.

Or the time that he threatened to kill us both and came after us with a golf club.
I was sixteen.  Prior to that event, by about a year maybe.  He had gone after my mother in the
kitchen while she was washing dishes.  He gave her a black eye. But again it was 'oh he
would not do that'.  Even though there was physical proof he did.

I just do not understand how people could just sit by and act like it did not happen
or "it really is not that bad".  I could understand maybe not wanting to help my mother.
Because....well....you would have to have known her to understand.
But what about me. I was just a kid and you let me go through that. I do not
fucking understand.

Anyway...that is what I am working on in between writing the fiction.
Maybe I will never understand.
Maybe I will never make sense of it all.
But maybe I can heal from it.

Clickity Clack Goes The Keyboard

I am still finding my best writing time is at night. Especially when the dogs are off to bed, the cats are more or less settled, and things are in a sense quiet.  It is not necessarily the quiet that makes it easier to write. I think it is a dormant habit. It is how I started out writing what seems like forever ago. Only then, I would write until say two or three in the morning.  I think I still could do that if I let myself.

I have managed to "catch up" and get back on track. I had planned to maybe even get ahead this weekend, but instead I tried catching up on some shows.  I figured if during the day is not my prime writing time, I might as well watch some of my shows.  But I still wrote and that is what counts. As of yesterday, I was only short 300 or so words.  I am still trying to figure out character names and how this all connects together. The other thing I am wondering is how I get from this story line to my original story idea.  I guess it is all just more plot fodder.

I was thinking yesterday though about the story that I do not tell.  And why I do not tell it.  My story, not my fiction one but the one about me.  As I have been thinking on it, I am coming to the idea that it is perhaps fear.  Yep, there's that word again.  I am still afraid of putting it into words. I am still afraid of saying it out loud. I am afraid of what others will say.  I am afraid that their are those that will say I am a liar.

I know, I know. It is my story, it is my truth and that I should just tell it as it is true to me.
I guess in some ways, I am still looking for that approval from some people.
I guess I am still looking for the acknowledgement that yes, that did happen. Validation, maybe?
I would like it without judgement or the assumption that I am seeking attention.
Then there is the whole feeling of people judging you and accusing you of airing dirty laundry.

Why did so many things have to be kept hush hush or swept under the rug or locked in the closet?
Where were those that should have stepped up or stepped in and say that is not right, stop that?
Why did people turn a blind eye and act like they did not know anything was wrong?

It probably does not even matter anymore now.  I will never have the answers I want in this life time.
But, sometimes an "I believe you" would be nice.

I can still remember how when I was trying to seek help, even if just advice from certain people and all I got was silence. All I got was the feeling like I was not believed and that was making it up. Attention seeking, being dramatic, all in my head. 

I have found more support and acceptance from people I never met and only know online via blogs or the "Book of Faces".  And if say something on FB, I feel like I am being judged with the "oh there she goes with that bull shit again."  That I am some how a "broken record".

Little by little, things are falling away and I feel like I have been in a sense  released from certain things.  The thing is though, these are things that I remember happening to me. So that makes them my truths. If you do not remember them that way, that does not make my experience any less real or any less valid.

So maybe for now, I will write the things as I remember them just for me. And see what healing I can get from facing them  in my writing.  Childhood trauma is a bitch.  Domestic Violence, in any form,
is a bitch.  I may never recover, but I can working on healing on day at a time.

Writing NaNoWriMo - The Struggle Is Real

Firstly, I have written (as of yesterday) seven days straight!
I started out strong, even ahead of the word count.
A couple of days there though, I did not even break five hundred.
I felt myself starting to falter.  I felt the doubt creeping in.
Thankfully the plot twists are nagging me enough to keep coming.
Thankfully the mystery woman who should up out of the starting gate keeps talking to me.

I have also broke the ten thousand word mark.  BUT, as of right now, I am about fourteen hundred words behind.  I need just over three thousand to get back on track.  The plan for the weekend right now anyway, is to get back on track and maybe even ahead of the count.

SO I am NOT giving up.

I was writing last night.
When I realized, old habits die hard.
I still even fifteen years after I started the original story, find it easier to write at night.
Back then, I could easily find myself still writing and researching well past two or
three in the morning.
I think I could do it  again now.

But I realized something just a short bit ago.
I am holding myself back.
I can get on roll with the words. The ideas are starting to come together. And then I notice the
time. Usually only about 11:30 and I think I should stop. Or that I have to stop and so I do.
I think I am holding myself back.

What occurred to me when I was thinking about that and why I might be doing it, is that
I think it might be fear.  Yep...here we go again. FEAR.
I think I am afraid of failing. That if I throw myself into this and let it just go and flow, that
it will  end up being total crap and I will end up feeling like I wasted my time.
I also think I am afraid it will be really good. I am afraid if it is good, that more things will come of it.
More stories.  Or dare I think of trying to publish. 
Then, I am afraid that if I let myself try to publish that I will be rejected. Because now they will think it is total crap.  I know rejection is part of the process. But I don't know if I could handle it.

Then there is the part of me that is okay with not being published.
That used to be "THE DREAM".  Publish or bust.
Now though, I have come to be okay with just having written it for me.
Write to see if I could actually do it from start to finish. A complete story.
For no other reason than self satisfaction.

Things I need to work on:
Getting out of my head and letting myself write if the words are flowing
and not worry about the clock or what time it is.
Getting out of my head and stop worrying if it the writing is good or bad
right now and just get the words  down.
Let each new plot twist or character that shows up while I am writing
be its own chapter in the draft that I can explore at will when the ideas come.

So there it is. The goals for the weekend. Now back to the writing my story.

Have a lovely weekend!

And So It Begins.......Again

No no, nothing bad.
Madness maybe (insert evil, maniacal laugh here)

It's time for NaNoWriMo.
My 14th year?  I lose count lol.  Website says 15, how am I to argue.

I was trying to do some prep in October.
But there was always something and then the month was over.

My original story idea still wants to be written.
I've lost some of the vision I had for it 15 years ago.
Right now though, it seems the story has some other ideas of where it
wants to go. So I will see where it takes me.

I rebelled yesterday by editing a bit of what I had started writing for it
in July and then added to that.
Coming in at just under 3,000 words.

I'm not going to put the crazy pressure some put on themselves.
I already expect the distractions and interruptions.

It is November after all.
Nano almost never runs smoothly LOL
But I have hope.

Now all I have to do, besides write all the words is:

• Figure out who the faceless woman is
• Come up with a name for the mysterious, magical history book that suddenly come into play
• Figure out who the secret order is, what they are called, and what is there purpose

Because those are 3 things that appeared unexpectedly while writing yesterday.  None have names, or reasons for being. It will be interesting to see if they continue to speak to me and reveal themselves.