Saturday morning of a four-day holiday weekend, and I have so much to do today it’s not even funny. I did get some things done yesterday, but PT yesterday morning wore me out–I actually was on an endorphin high when I left Physiofit, which I’ve not experienced in a very long time. Of course it crashed in the afternoon, just as Paul and I dashed over to Costco to get my new microwave, which I am kind of excited about getting set up today and learning how to use over the course of the weekend. I’ve also cleaned out the old one, so it’s ready to be donated to the office so I can take it with me on Wednesday. I also got a check in the mail yesterday for the release of Mississippi River Mischief that I’d completely forgotten about. That was an extremely pleasant surprise. This morning I’m going to finish this and get the kitchen straightened up while drinking coffee…I don’t think there are any bowl games today that I care about, so I don’t think I’ll be having the television on. After I finish this, I am going to read for an hour before getting to work on the kitchen, and then after I get the mail today I am going to write while working on the apartment at the same time. The plan is to spend Christmas doing nothing at all other than relaxing. I have PT on Tuesday, and it’s also the last day of my holiday weekend, so I can get things done that day as well.
I also ordered myself one of those magic bullet things, so I can always have a protein shake smoothie at the office whenever I feel like not eating something unhealthy for lunch, or whenever there’s not a healthy option available. I want to eat healthier in the new year–not a diet, a correction to eating habits–because I really don’t want to gain back the weight I lost during the soft food diet and the surgery. I want to be healthier, and get back to the gym to work out once I’m cleared for it. I also know it won’t be easy, either. So, this year for Christmas I got some books, got my car insurance paid off, got a new microwave and a new battery-powered hand vacuum, and a battery-powered blender. Not bad, I don’t think. I also got a blank journal from a friend, and I really need to thank them.
People have already started their annual round-ups, and I am not sure I really want to do one. Professionally it was a terrific year, while it was a rather difficult one personally. I suppose it’s the Christmas thing, and for New Year’s you come up with resolutions (I prefer setting goals for the new year, myself, and no, I won’t explain that again now, because I inevitably do when I do the new year goal post). My already spotty memory is much worse now from the anesthesia for the surgery, but I’ve been told that effect goes away after a couple of months.
Last night we got caught up on Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, and then watched some episodes of Looking, which we are really enjoying. I am so disappointed in my people for not supporting this marvelous show about gay life in San Francisco in the early twenty-teens, and I am also disappointed I listened to the haters when it was airing and didn’t watch myself. Jonathan Groff is marvelous, and last night we got to meet Russell Tovey’s character, who is playing Groff’s new boss and I strongly suspect that he will be–despite his two-year relationship–Groff’s love interest. Not sure what we’ll watch tonight; perhaps I can spend some time this afternoon looking for movies to watch, although I am kind of interested in Rebel Moon, but Paul didn’t seem terribly interested when we were looking at previews yesterday. I do want to watch The Iron Claw when it’s available.
And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close. I slept in this morning and the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, and I have a lot that needs doing today. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will probably see you again later today.
Well, it’s early and I’m a bit groggy; a groggy Greggy, as it were. It’s very dark outside and the heat is running, so I would also guess that it’s also cold out there too. I have PT this morning before I got to the office, and have errands to run after work as well. I still haven’t done holiday cards yet, and time is running out. Heavy heaving sigh. But I am also oddly not stressed about it. I’ve screwed up so many years and wound up not sending the cards, and I have just proved to myself that even when I get great cards and stamps in advance still doesn’t mean I’ll get them done early or on time. I’m holding on to the belief that I can still get them done and in the mail before the end of the week.
I’ve got high hopes!
It was a nice, restful, and relaxing weekend. I somehow managed to get a lot done, which was lovely, and if I didn’t make as far through my weekend to-do list as much as I would have preferred–still, I did manage to get a lot done. The oil change was vitally important, and I am very glad I managed to get that taken care of–the long life of the car is an absolute necessity, and whatever I can do to keep it running and as lasting as I can, the better. I do NOT ever want the return of having another car payment ever again, as long as I live; I am hoping the car outlives me, actually.
I got some other things done that needed doing, like hanging my nomination certificates from the Agathas and the Anthonys for the vanity area of the apartment, and I did get some good work on the book done. I think I have the entire plot figured out completely now, which will make finishing it that much easier. I need to make an extensive to-do list that will carry me through the end of the year, and I don’t think it will be a problem going forward ticking things off the to-do list; this weekend I felt more like myself than I have since at least before the surgery, which was a lovely nice change. The new medications are keeping me level and calm and anxiety-free (some slips in every now and again, which I am able to squash before things get stressful…and in some cases it’s really just habit to react with stress and anxiety at first before quelling the feelings). We watched several movies yesterday and enjoyed them all: Barbie, The Family Plan, and No Hard Feelings, and yes, quite aware what an interesting mix of film types that was, too. Paul has recovered from that little bout of flu that we both had, and he seems more balanced and centered, too. I’m kind of looking forward to this long holiday weekend that’s on deck, too.
I also spent some more time reading Buried in a Good Book by Tamara Berry, which won the first-ever Lillian Jackson Braun Award from Mystery Writers of America earlier this year. I’m really enjoying the book. I like the authorial voice and I find the main character, Tess, a bestselling thriller writer, to be quite droll and funny, and I appreciate her relationship with her rebellious daughter, Gertrude. I do tend to find common cause with characters that are writers, even as I try to avoid writing about writers myself. I also got a lot of chores caught up, and have cleaned up/made functional the workspace, which was way overdue. I’m going to try to stay on top of it as much as possible, but I always say that and always fail at keeping up with the kitchen and the workspace, alas.
Well, I was right, it’s 48 outside, which is cold for New Orleans. I have an easy day at the office today–and by that I mean I don’t have to see clients; it’s my paperwork catch-up day and I’m not quite as behind on that as one might think, given I was out for three weeks. (My supervisor kept on top of some of the paperwork that was pressing and couldn’t wait, which is much easier on me for today.) I am going to have to stay vigilant with the paperwork because the next two Mondays are holidays, but we’re never super busy just before and between those holidays, historically speaking. It’s odd, but I don’t think this first Christmas without Mom is going to be nearly as hard as the first Thanksgiving without her; Thanksgiving was more Mom’s holiday once we got older, and my sister took over Christmas. It’ll still be a bit sad, I think, but I have both Monday and Tuesday off for the holiday, so at least if I am sad on Christmas I have a whole other day to get over it.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader. and I’ll probably be back later.
Imagine my shock and horror last evening when I realized that Christmas is next weekend. What the hell happened to December? Where did it go? Suddenly, I am almost out of time to do and mail my Christmas cards, and I really don’t want to save the awesome ones I bought for next year. Sheesh. But…I also didn’t/am not get(ting) down on myself about that fact, either; which is a really positive place for me to be in at the moment. Is the reset of my brain that I was determined to get taken care of during my recovery from surgery actually working? Perhaps…and the surgery recovery kind of was a blur where I was lucky to remember what day of the week it was, let alone the date. The new meds seem to be taking care of my anxiety, which is precisely what I needed–it’s so nice to not freak out or spiral about things over which I have no control, and calm Greg is always the best Greg. (I do know people rather enjoy when I go on a Julia Sugarbaker rant, though.) I slept well again last night, which was marvelous, and of course Sparky’s body clock alerted him that my alarm was going to be buzzing away annoyingly soon, so he emerged from his under-the-bed cave around five thirty-ish to climb up into the bed and cuddle until it was time for me to rise from the depths of Morpheus and fill his food bowl.
There’s really nothing quite so comforting as a soft kitten resting on you, purring, is there? I also think it’s kind of amazing that he’s left my injured arm alone ever since the brace went on it. My right arm is a battlefield of scabs and scars from his claws–as is my right leg (that’s the one he likes to use to climb me), but my left arm? Other than the surgery incisions and the purplish netting over them, it’s pristine. He also will stretch out in my lap to sleep–just like Scooter, he wants my lap as soon as I get home from work, and also like Scooter, my desk chair belongs to him and he refuses to sleep in my lap if I am sitting there–and always rests his cute little arm in the crook of my left elbow and purrs contentedly as his little purr engine soothes my soul.
How did I manage to live so long without having a cat? So many years wasted when I could have been saving cats from shelters. Ah, well.
We were super-busy at work yesterday–we’re heavily scheduled today too–but I applied myself and got caught up on most of, if not all, of my desk duties around my clients. I also felt better yesterday–certainly more alive and awake and present than I was on Tuesday, for sure, for sure–and I feel like today is going to be a good day overall as well. I am feeling better about most things, really (though I do wonder if the anxiety and eager-to-please mentality that comes out of it is what has motivated me to write so much over the last twenty or so years), and it’s much easier to stay positive even as the world burns to the ground around us.
It’s weird to be in the midst of the Christmas season, venerating the birth of the prophet/savior of the Christian religion (and why is a religious holiday a legal one?) while at the same time the people who claim to be his followers have put our democracy under attack and are going after everyone else’s rights–because make no mistake, if one group’s rights are under attack, everyone’s rights are under attack. (And don’t #notallChristians me; if you aren’t speaking against your Christo-fascist brethren, you’re a collaborator at worst or complicit at best. Remove the mote from your own eyes before coming for the one in mine, thank you very much….and I bet I know the Christian religion and your holy book better than you do.)
The part I don’t get about bodily autonomy opponents is this: if you believe the government has the right to interfere with women’s health care choices over the recommendations of the medical field, you really can’t at the same time object to government intervention in health insurance and health care, either… yet it’s always the same thing. (And you can’t break the law by claiming you do so because of your faith gives you a fucking free pass. “Render unto Caesar”, remember that Jesus quote? He’s saying the government is an authority to be respected, not that “if you follow me you can use me to do whatever you want!)”) Surrendering bodily autonomy means giving the government a say in your health care–so if you oppose abortion and choice, you better shut the fuck up and get vaccinated and wear masks when the government tells you to; and you need to shut the fuck up about the Affordable Care Act, Medicaid, and Medicare (I’m looking at you, demon-spawn from hell Nikki Haley). You love to talk about slippery slopes when it comes to the Second Amendment, but you’re all about the government telling women what they can and can’t do with their wombs and bodies? The fact they don’t give a fuck about child care and child health and public education and ensuring all children have the basic necessities of life is all the evidence anyone needs to know the “save the precious babies!” argument is shallower than a salad bowl. They don’t care about babies, they don’t care about women, and they don’t care about freedom, period.
They only freedom they care about is the freedom to control–and how is that freedom?
And the real slippery slope is that if the government can tell you that you have to have a child…means that the government also has the right to order you to have one…and the right to not let you have one when you choose.
Funny how the only slippery slope they care about is the one about guns.
And all the hate speech around transpeople and calling all queer people groomers while not going after organized religion–where it seems most of the child-rape happens–is another indicator of cognitive dissonance so powerful that you seriously have to wonder about the functionality of their brains, and people who don’t have a logic-based brain aren’t people I want to listen to about anything.
Rant over…for now, at any rate.
I was, however, thoroughly exhausted yesterday when I got home from work. Adjusting to being back at work is taking a little more time than I would have liked, but it is what it is. Tonight I have to do some errands on the way home from work, so I am hoping I am not as dog-tired when I get off tonight as I was yesterday. I did get some things done once I got home, but not nearly enough, and of course Sparky was very needy after his first long afternoon home alone in almost a month. He’s such a mischievous little brat sometimes. Did I mention he turned the washing machine on the other day? He’s lucky he’s also incredibly cute and sweet–but he is still an evil genius. I’ve always thought the entire point of Lucifer/Satan having been the most beautiful of the angels before the fall was a warning to humans to not be fooled into thinking beauty means good…and the degeneration of what he looked like during the late Dark and early Middle Ages into a horned, red monster with claws and a tail was just another step in the demonization of non-Christian religions; as there are any number of different pagan gods who looked like that who were also not evil.
But here it is, a mere eleven days before Christmas. It’s such a tired and boring cliché to even attempt to add anything to the conversation about the commercialization of the holiday season; that ship has long since set sail. I mean, as I always point out, it was already such a problem in the early 1960’s that Charles Schultz wrote and animated A Charlie Brown Christmas to illustrate the point. What could I possibly add to that? Paul and I have decided not to get each other gifts this year; we both buy anything we want or need whenever we think about it. All I ever want is books, anyway, and I am trying to cut back on adding books to the house unless books are going out of the house–and trying to ensure more are going out than coming in is the optimal at this moment. I’ve also decided to dispose of marked up manuscripts and early drafts of things; everything is digitized anyway, and it will clear up a lot of room in the storage attic and the apartment. Any boxes of books in the attic can also be donated, so that’s the new plan for when I have the full use of my arm again–getting rid of all that shit. I also need to cut back on streaming services I pay for, as they are all jacking up their prices for the holidays; and some of them I rarely, if ever use. It would be cheaper in the long run to simply buy the full seasons from Apple than pay for the service every month…and that would also make me more selective about what we actually watch.
It’s nice to feel good about myself and my life again, despite the state of the world, you know?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again later.
Monday morning after two consecutive nights of insomnia. It’s been so long since I’ve had it–the night after my surgery was the last time, but it didn’t really affect me terribly much because I wasn’t really all that mobile anyway–but this morning I am fatigued. My body just feels exhausted. I didn’t feel well all weekend, and while I do feel somewhat better this morning in that regard, I am so physically tired that I am not really sure how I am going to get through the day–I have PT this morning–let alone return to the office tomorrow. Hopefully I will sleep tonight. It’s also cold this morning–not even fifty degrees, with the high predicted at sixty, so I had to switch it from air conditioning to heat when I got up. I also feel a bit nauseous, which is going to make PT a lot of fun this morning. Paul had a bug of some sort late last week, something similar to this–his was mostly fatigue–which of course has me worried about being sick before I return to work. But it may be just dehydration again; so I am going to try to get myself as rehydrated today as I can–I always forget how shitty being dehydrated makes you feel and I have the symptoms of that again (cottonmouth, dark urine, etc.). I’m working on eating a bagel slathered with cream cheese right now, and those carbs have already made me feel somewhat better already. I don’t think I am eating enough, either…which is probably not smart while recovering from a surgery.
I was exhausted all day yesterday, so spent most of it in my easy chair. I did read for a while, but mostly just was laying there, unable to do much of anything or to focus at all. Paul got another tattoo yesterday, and when he got home we watched the Mother God documentary series on MAX (it really is amazing what people will believe) and then Leave the World Behind on Netflix, which is an apocalyptic story, but focussed mainly on the small cast of characters, thrown together when everything starts to go bad, and what it would be like to be in that situation–not knowing what’s going on, but knowing something is and it’s bad–and it has a good cast who are great in their roles. These kinds of movies are interesting to me because I inevitably wonder how well I would do in that kind of situation–and then I laugh at myself because the default is, of course, that you would be a survivor who’d find a way to get through it…when the truth is most of us wouldn’t do well. I can barely handle the heat here when the power’s out in the summer, let alone living without power for an extended period of time. My stove is electric, so without power (they still have power in the movie, by the way) I wouldn’t be able to even cook anything.
Although I think my favorite thing about the entire movie is it opens with Julia Roberts basically booking a vacation rental for her family on the spur of the moment and when asked by her husband (Ethan Hawke) why, she goes on this little tear about how awful people are and she hates them all and wants to get away from them for a little while. The movie also plays into one of my primal fears; that I’ll be away from home when something terrible like this happens…Bouchercon being in San Diego over Labor Day weekend a few months ago had me all kinds of stressed–what if there’s a hurricane while I’m gone? How would I ever get home? What about Paul? My anxiety doesn’t make those sorts of things any easier on me, either.
I am also changing medications, and I can’t help but wonder if that has something to do with the not feeling well–but i changed the meds starting yesterday, so that had no impact whatsoever in my not feeling well Saturday and not sleeping well that night, but it could be why I had trouble sleeping last night and why I feel so out of it this morning. My brain isn’t tired, and can focus, but my body just feels exhausted and walking around has been tiring–which means the PT, which is deceptively tiring, may wear me out today and make me useless for the rest of the day, which just can’t happen, you know? Being sick this weekend basically lost the whole weekend for me–I thought I’d worn myself out running errands Saturday morning, but it was definitely more than that.
And now it’s time for me to fly. Wish me luck with my PT, and I’ll check in with you again later.
Today’s title sounds rather like a gay Christmas tune, does it not? It certainly sounds like a great title for a gay porn story set during the Christmas season, and just typing that out made me immediately regret never doing a Christmas gay porn anthology–imagine how the evangelicals (aka cosplay Christians) would have reacted to that!
And Jayden Daniels won the Heisman Trophy! GEAUX TIGERS!
I overslept this morning, mainly because I didn’t sleep well last night. I didn’t feel good yesterday; I ran some errands and came home exhausted, collapsing into my chair in exhaustion and later on, started feeling crummy; my stomach was really bothering me for some reason, and I went to bed early, hoping to sleep it off….only couldn’t sleep for a long time. I did finally fall asleep after midnight, and when Sparky got me up for his six am feeding I went back to bed and stayed there until almost nine thirty. I don’t feel that great this morning, either, which is not a good thing, either. I think my blood sugar crashed and I never really replenished it yesterday, and I also think I’m dehydrated–so no, this coffee isn’t really helping much here, either. I think when I finish writing this I am going to go sit in my chair and read for awhile until I feel somewhat better, and will write later on today.
I hate when I don’t feel well, you know?
We got caught up on Monarch: Legacy of Monsters yesterday, and then watched Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which was…disappointing. I love the character, I love Harrison Ford, and I love Phoebe Waller-Bridge, but the movie just didn’t engage me the way the first and third movies did; the second, fourth and fifth being disappointments. Just thinking about those movies for a moment, though–the first and third movies are predicated on the idea that the Bible is true, and there is a God up there in the heavens or wherever that is supposed to be. Likewise, horror films and books as a general rule, also work as inadvertent Christian propaganda; vampires and The Exorcist go so far as to say Catholicism is the only “good” force to combat non-Christian supernatural forces. There’s an essay in that; I’ve always found it amusing that Christians–especially Catholics–are very anti-horror because “demons and witches” and “the devil” while the work itself actually is predicated on the foundation that the Bible, and Christianity, are not only real but the primary defense against evil in the world. (It always amused me the way the church always came for Anne Rice, when all they had to do was read her books to see how staunchly pro-Catholic they actually were.)
I was too tired and unwell yesterday to be able to focus on reading more of Raquel’s book, but I am going to probably dig into that for a while this morning once I finish this and put some food into my system to see if that helps me feel better. I think it’s weather related; our bipolar weather swung back into the warm and wet side again yesterday afternoon and into the evening, so it may have been a combination of sinus, blood sugar crash, and dehydration–so I am going to have to have some of that rehydration drink today. It really does suck how a bad night can throw you off your game; all I want to do is go back to bed and rest some more. This doesn’t bode well as I have to go back to work on Tuesday; yikes! But if it wears me out, it wears me out–and should mean I’ll sleep well that night.
We also watched some of the Grand Prix figure skating final last night, too–after finishing Indy and giving up on another show we were watching–and there just aren’t a lot of good, top quality skaters anymore; there’s a huge drop-off from the top three–and the pairs? Yikes. The team that won was the best of the six, for sure, despite a lot of mistakes. Skating just isn’t as much fun to watch as it used to be–although Ilia Malinin and his insane amount of quads in every long program is pretty impressive, and he’s getting better at the artistry, which used to be practically non-existent in his programs. I think he’s going to be one of the greater skaters, as long as his body holds out–all those quads are a lot of pressure on his ankles, knees, and hips.
Sorry to be so dull today, but yikes–exhausted and tired and still not feeling super great.let me eat something and maybe that will help–and so I will bid you adieu on this Sunday morning, and hope you have a lovely day.
Monday morning in the Lost Apartment after another terrific night’s sleep. I am really going to miss not getting up with an alarm when I go back to work next week. I’m not going to lie–sometimes this enforced rest has been annoying and frustrating and kind of unpleasant, but on the other hand, I haven’t felt this rested in years. This is nice, as is how refreshed I feel every morning, along with the knowledge that I don’t need to shower as part of the waking-up ritual every morning as well. I think as the week goes on I will start trying to get up earlier and go through the usual morning ritual, to get back into practice with it.
Yesterday was a relatively mild and relaxing one. I literally forgot that the Saints were playing–I’d lost track of what day of the week it was–which is just as well; it seems like the game was an exercise in enormous frustration for Saints fans. Granted, we had a better day than Florida State fans, who were seriously robbed. I figured that maybe they’d get screwed, but the Georgia loss made it seem unlikely; and the final spot in the play-offs was up for grabs between Georgia, Alabama, and Texas–and much as I hated to see the SEC left out, it made sense to me. Georgia lost to Alabama who lost to Texas; but Texas’ loss was to Oklahoma, who didn’t have a great year, and that was after Texas beat Alabama, while the Tide was running the table. I figured that would be the committee’s justification for screwin Texas in favor of Alabama; it never occurred to me they’d screw Florida State over and take both Texas and the Tide. This was an odd year, with a surplus of undefeated and one-loss teams, along with any number of two and three loss teams who only lost to undefeated or one-loss teams (LSU lost three games–undefeated Florida State, one loss Alabama, and two loss Mississippi–whose two losses were Alabama and Georgia). It is, I suppose, a good year for the four-team play-off to go out on; but if people think there aren’t going to be controversies and angry fan bases once it goes to a twelve team play-off next year, think again. LSU’s schedule is insane for 2024 (USC, UCLA, Oklahoma, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Texas A&M); the only traditional annual games no longer on the schedule are Auburn and Mississippi State. I think people are already mad about next season, based on the final rankings by the committee? There seemed to be a lot of vitriol on the social media apps last night. So, yes, football fan bases can even get up in arms over projections.
I did read David Valdes’ marvelous Finding My Elf yesterday, which was absolutely delightful, and really left me feeling a bit warm inside when I did finish it, and am really looking forward to when his You Spin Me Round comes up in the TBR pile. I think my next read will be Donna Andrews; and I’ll just read her latest two Megs back-to-back. One of course is the annual Christmas mystery–which I want to read for the season–but my brain won’t let me read them out of order, so I have to read Birder She Wrote first before Let It Crow!Let It Crow!Let It Crow! which is also a great title. I also want to do some writing of my own today; the days are slipping through my fingers and I need to prioritize writing more than anything else with the energy I have on reserve. I also watched Joy Ride, which was quite fun, and then we started watching Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, which is extremely well done, and for a television show about monsters–we don’t see a lot of monsters. The story primarily focuses on a young woman who survived the Godzilla rampage through San Francisco, and the whole concept of a world and a humanity that has adapted to enormous monsters, like Godzilla and others (the Godzilla evacuation route and directions in Tokyo was startling) is interesting. Monster movies like this, and the various others about giant creatures from the depths of the ocean or the bowels of the earth terrified me as a child and gave me nightmares. (I’ve never watched any iteration of King Kong, for example, and I think I’ve only seen the original Godzilla, which was a huge mistake as it really did haunt my dreams for years. There was one film about a giant octopus who would unfurl his tentacles to crush a seaside city that I can still see sometimes in my mind.) But I am enjoying this show, and am interested in seeing where it goes; it seems like its primary purpose is to expose some corporation (Monarch) who has something to do with the monsters. There’s also a dual time-line, which you know I love.
The workers just checked in to see if the kitchen ceiling leaked over the weekend, and so they are about to come in and take down the rest of the ruined ceiling in preparation for making it look pretty tomorrow. Yay! I also have my first PT appointment tomorrow morning, so I am curious to see what that’s going to look like. I am going to run my errands tomorrow morning after my therapy, since I’ll already be uptown (it’s near the corner of Magazine and Napoleon), so I might as well head over and get the mail and do whatever brief grocery run needs to be done.
I also started getting better organized yesterday; I got my bills all mapped out for the month (I generally do this after every pay day, after I’ve paid the bills so I know how much debt is still outstanding; it also helps keep me from forgetting to make payments). The desk area looks much better than it did, but I still have some filing and organizing to get done. I’m hoping they won’t be in here for very long this morning; I am going to repair to my chair as soon as they come in and try to read until they are finished, and maybe do some writing once they’ve left. I am terribly behind on everything (hey, I’m starting to sound like myself again!), and so one of my tasks for today is to make a to-do list, as well as a “upcoming submissions date” list so I can try to get some stories back out there.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.
All evidence to the contrary, I do love Christmas. I love the decorations, I love the mentality behind it, I love the festive spirit that people try to keep up during the season, and I even like the music for the most part. (I also find many things wrong with American Christmas, but that’s for another time.) I detest cheap sentimentality, or melodrama for the sake of a cheap emotional response from the audience/reader. I don’t enjoy Hallmark or Lifetime Christmas movies as a genre–predictable, sickly sweet, cloyingly sentimental like cheap perfume–but I don’t care that other people do; my preference is never to yuck someone else’s yum. Obviously, there’s a big market for those films and books, but they generally aren’t for me. I just don’t buy into them when I watch, I suppose, is the best way to put it?
This is also partly why I don’t read a lot of romance novels. But when I saw that David Valdes had written a young adult Christmas romance novel, I thought, you know what? I bet this is really good, so I procured a copy and spent a lovely afternoon reading it.
I loved it.
No one can accuse my dad of being subtle. He loves Christmas the way most guys in the Pioneer Valley love the Patriots. Instead of team jerseys, he has a collection of ugly holiday sweaters that would be kind of impressive if it wasn’t so embarrassing. (Seriously, the llama ones lights up. I can’t.) So I shouldn’t be surprised that when I arrive home for my first, or maybe last, winter break from college, the house looks like, I don’t know, Frosty Con. Snowmen everywhere.
I’m so not in the mood.
Don’t get me wrong: I like Christmaswell enough. Even though Halloween is my favorite holiday because of the costumes, I love all the twinkling lights, and you can’t really overplay “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” But’s it been a long day on the bus from NYC, and before it was a long day, it was a long week in a long semester. Not that I’m ready to admit that to my dad.
I purposely chose a bus that would get me home to Lindell while he was working. Yes, it’s, like, almost two miles from the bus stop in front of the old town hall to our place, but dragging my bag for forty minutes was worth it for the chance to come home to an empty house. I need some time alone in the privacy of my own room before Dad gets here and I become the grinch, the carol killer, the fly in the eggnog.
I have to tell him that I’m failing out of school.
And so we meet Cam, first semester Theater major from the small town of Lindell, Massachusetts, coming home with his head bowed and thinking he’s failed at making it in the big city. He was THE theater kid at his high school, but once he’s made it to the city and school of his dreams, he’s just another face in the crowd–and doesn’t feel like he fits in. He’s doing fine in his required courses…it’s the theater ones he’s having trouble with, and his father is working two jobs and he may lose his scholarship. He doesn’t have the heart to disappoint his father and ruin Christmas, so he bides his time with the terrible news–like everyone teen, avoiding the bad news or put it off till later. A chance trip to the new mall in town winds up with him getting a job as an elf in Santaland, where he meets his fellow elves–an older retired military man; a blonde good two-shoes, a Goth girl, and perpetually happy, cheerful and annoying Marco. He also runs into his ex, LeRoy, and isn’t sure if he wants to start up with him again or not; he dumped LeRoy the summer before he left for college, thinking it was better to not try the long-distance thing.
The best part of the job? The elves are in a competition to win a five thousand dollar prize–which will make up for the scholarship he’s losing–by winning a popular on-line vote. As the days pass and he gets to know his fellow elves better, he starts opening up a little bit himself and seeing things from perspectives other than his own. All the other elves help with this process, but especially Marco–who seems to be the embodiment of the Christmas spirit and just a genuinely kind, empathetic soul.
The book is a romantic comedy, so there are funny moments as well as the ones that make you sigh and warm your heart–all of it earned, mind you, and not there for story purposes–but it’s also about Cam growing up into a better, less self-absorbed person who maybe doesn’t project his impressions onto other people and sees them with a kinder eye. Valdes nails the teen voice perfectly; Cam is at heart a good person, if a bit too wrapped up inside his own head with his own issues and problems, but he is deftly drawn and fully conceived, so you root for him even as you groan at his poor choices; you want him to do better, be better, because he really is a good person.
I loved this story from first word to last, and I really wish these kinds of books had been available when I was a teenager. Something like Finding My Elf could be a lifeline for a kid in a bleak rural area who feels so alone and lonely and hopeless.
Perfect Christmas gift for any queer teen you may know, and frankly, it’s a strong enough read for adults, too.
I’m about to head to my first follow-up appointment with the surgeon this morning–far earlier than I would prefer, but best to get it over and done with so I can get on with my day. Heavy sigh. I have a lot of questions…and am hoping to get some more information about wearing shirts and so forth. There’s a part of me that’s hoping I get a smaller brace today, but I am also aware that’s probably magical thinking on my part. The physical therapy is going to last for three months, and that’s going to wreak havoc on my daily schedule. I am hoping that I’ll be able to not miss a lot of work for it–or come up with ways to work around it–which may not be that easy. I am starting to get antsy with so little ability to be at the computer and type. Having a rambunctious high-energy kitten that I am having to try to fend off with the one good hand doesn’t help, either. He’s very sweet and I hate not giving him the attention he wants, but if he wants flea medicine and vet appointments and food, Daddy has to be able to work. And my typing time is limited as the left hand/arm tires quickly.
I haven’t worked on the book since starting it the other day, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot (and about a lot of other things I want to write/am writing/editing), which is part of the problem with having so much down time and a creative mind with a touch of attention-deficiency…I start getting ideas as my mind wanders as I sit there. I was able to focus on reading my current book for a couple of hours yesterday, but didn’t get as far as one would under ordinary circumstances. I do have trouble remembering the day of the week, and as far as the date is concerned–that ship has long since sailed. (I know the first is coming and am prepared to spend some time paying bills at some point soon.) I am enjoying the book very much; I just wish my brain had more bandwidth than is currently on hand. I am genuinely worn out by ten every night, and I’ve been sleeping remarkably well. It’s also cold here this morning, and I have to go out into it wearing sweat pants. Yay.
We’re still enjoying Bodies, and it’s very like Dark–very clever, high production values, terrific acting, the questions of morality and fate and free will; very deep and very interesting. I am also starting to get bored, to be honest, which is a novel concept for me. The lack of focus so I can read for long periods of time is seriously being felt here, believe me. I am going to try to read more of my book today, and then I might have to go back to another volume of Alfred Hitchcock Presents–short stories work better when you have no ability to stay focused for a long period of time. I rewatched The Terminator yesterday–what a remarkably well written and done film it was. It is also, with the recent rise of AI, unnerving; the future Kyle and the Terminator come back to the present from `was 2029. Eep! Funny how back then 2029 seemed so far away, but then it kind of was. When that movie was released, I would have never believed that I’d still be alive in 2029–I still might not be, of course, but my longevity is completely out of my control to some extent; who knows how much or how little we control our own destinies? One of the key concepts of Bodies is that we don’t really have free will, as much as we would like to believe we do, and there’s something to that, I think. Sure, we make our choices, but are the choices presented actually our choices?
Deep thoughts from a Netflix series!
I was also thinking–as I am wont to do when my mind is free to wander–about whether I am an artist or not. Literature is an art, after all; we may not work with paints or oils or clay or marble or ceramic, but we are making art when we write. I’ve always been reluctant to call myself an artist or writing “making art”–the only authors I ever see or hear calling themselves artists or their work art tend to be very well-educated literary writers. It always felt inorganic and pompous to consider myself an artist and my work art. I write genre fiction, for one thing, and for another I write about queer people mostly. (Oh, the disdain I used to get from the literary writers when I worked at Lambda Book Report and they discovered that my forthcoming novel was crime fiction! I think that kind of hardened me against literary fiction and literary writers–not entirely true; some are absolutely lovely, but it certainly left a bad taste in my mouth about being overly pompous about what I do; I kind of embraced being a genre hack. I’m not ashamed to write crime fiction and horror; nor am I am ashamed of my erotica past.) But thinking about myself as an artist–the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I fit the description and perhaps what I do is make art, after all; but at the same time worry that thinking of it in that way will increase the pressure on me to do good work, and the last thing I need is more stress in my life.
But I am excited to get back to work on the new book. I really enjoy writing–which was also something else I was thinking about over the past few days. Writing is work, but I love to do it (publishing, on the other hand…it’s the necessary evil that follows the work I enjoy), which is another reason I don’t think of myself in terms of art/artist. But writing requires just as much focus and dedication as any other kind of art–and we are painting pictures with words rather than oils or watercolors, aren’t we?
Some interesting thoughts on a Wednesday morning. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I may check in again later.
Well, here we are on Monday morning after my surgery, and I’m not really sure what I’ll be doing today. I really need to pick up a prescription in Uptown, and we need to pick up the mail at some point, but I’m not really sure how I’m going to do that. I don’t know that I should risk driving yet, because New Orleans drivers are so horrible, but it has to be done and I need the prescription. I suppose I could take a ride service, but I hate spending the money as well. I guess I don’t have a choice though, so I’ll deal with that later. I also need to make groceries.
We had had an issue a few weeks ago with the apartment. They were doing some work on the patio deck above my kitchen, and unfortunately there was rotten wood up there. The ceiling kind of gave way; they ended up nailing up a piece of plywood over the hole in the ceiling. Unfortunately the next time it rained, of course, it leaked , but they finished the work up there and never came back to repair our ceiling. We had a massive thunderstorm Saturday night, and so i woke up Sunday morning to water on the floor in the kitchen, on the stove, and on the counter. The carpets in the kitchen were also wet; so I got out towels and a bucket for the dripping and hoped that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in. About two hours later, yeah, some of the plaster came down with a loud, startling crash, and so now there’s another hole in the ceiling. The insulation up there is soaked, so I had to leave the bucket for the dripping to continue. Needless to say, this is a really shitty time for this to happen and it spiraled me into a really bad depressive state yesterday. I have noted already that my emotions have been all over the place since the surgery — so something like this really sent me into a spiral. The anxiety really ramps up, so yeah, yesterday was just not a good day for me.
So, I repaired my easy chair with a Gatorade and Nurse Sparky and put on one of my comfort movies, Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. I’ve always loved Indiana Jones, but I haven’t seen the most recent movie yet. I’ve always wanted to write an Indiana Jones type book; I love historical treasure hunts and have always thought that it would be fun to write those kind of stories with Colin as the main character — away from Frank and Scotty, to kind of fill in the blanks when he’s away from New Orleans. I have an idea that’s tied into the 4th crusade and the sack of Constantinople; a treasure hidden away in the Hagia Sophia since the Nicaean Council that established the dogma of Catholic Christianity. The Orthodox patriarchy had been keeping this treasure secret from the Pope and the Vatican for centuries, at least since the schism of 1052. My idea is that the Venetians and the Crusaders knew that the Pope would be furious to learn they had sacked Constantinople, but the Doge, Enrico Dandalo, not only knew about the secret but also knew presenting it to the Pope would get them forgiven. The primary problem with this is that I have never figured out what precisely was hidden in the Hagia Sophia; but I wanted to tie it into the Assassins and the Old Man of the Mountain. I thought that would make for a fun adventure, particularly setting it in a fictional Middle Eastern country. However, with everything that’s going on in the world nowadays, writing about the Middle East is probably not a good idea at this point.
I also read a lot of short stories over the weekend. I read all the stories in one of my Alfred Hitchcock Presents anthologies, Stories That Scared Even Me, and that was a lot of fun. The book was published originally in the 1960s or early 1970s and it is amazing how much attitudes in society and cultural attitudes have changed since that time. The contributors were almost entirely male — all of these anthologies are underrepresented with women — and there are a lot of really racist and patriarchal tropes in some of the stories. Several, for example, are set in Mexico; I’ll let your imagination do the rest rather than quote what they said so casually. I’m also writing a story set in Central America — I was writing it to submit to a horror anthology — and it was one that I had started writing back in the 1990s, I believe. I was kind of horrified by what I wrote — I feel like by the 1980s I should have known better about these kinds of tropes — but the story is salvageable; with some strong changes and a fictional country. But you can still get into trouble, even with that, and the last thing I ever want to do is write something problematic that will offend people. (I have already mentioned the story that I submitted to a anthology that’s not going to happen now about the South, which I recently reread and was horrified by.) A lot of these stories have those twisty type of endings that I always loved; that little hint of irony that really made the story sing. I always try to give my stories those kinds of endings because that’s what I grew up reading as far as short stories are concerned, and I often have to struggle to not try that with every story, because it’s not right for every story and I have a bad tendency to try to force things to work the way I want them to, instead of the way that they should work organically.
Dictating is much slower than typing, as I’ve noted before; this is taking me a lot longer to dictate then I would like. Where I actually typing this entry, I would probably already be finished by now. But you do what you have to do. I also started dictating my next book, figuring it’s better to get started on it while I’m at home recovering from the surgery, rather than waiting until such time as my left hand can be used for the keyboard. I’m still not having any pain — my primary issue is mobility, not being able to use my left hand for much, occasional nausea from the antibiotic, and the mood swings and depression. I wish I had already started on my anti-anxiety medication protocol before the surgery, but what can you do? Yesterday morning, I was thinking that I made a lot of bad decisions about this surgery and that I didn’t do it knowing everything that would result from it; but I was worried about not ever being able to go to the gym and workout again unless and until this was done, and pushing it back to next year wouldn’t have changed any of these issues, I don’t think, other than possibly better planning on my part. But that’s also part of the anxiety—I always question my decisions, and never really believe that I made the right choices afterward. I guess it is just a part of that hindsight being 20/20 thing that always drives me crazy. I never really am confident in the decisions I make, so I always try to not second-guess or doubt myself afterward; there’s no point in rehashing things that you can’t change. Why obsess over something I have no control over anymore? That’s the easiest way to drive yourself crazy, I think.
We’re also really enjoying the show Bodies on Netflix. It has everything that I like; a bit of science fiction, crime, surprise twists, and gay content. You can never go wrong with me when you have gay content. (That’s not entirely true; there are some really terrible shows in movies with gay content that are basically unwatchable) I also finished watching a Jane Seymour series on Acorn called HarryWild, which wasn’t great but was entertaining enough. I don’t know what all I’ve been watching to be honest with you, Constant Reader, but I’ve been watching an awful lot of television.
I did watch a terrible adaptation of Agatha Christie’s The Mirror Crack’d, and the less said about that the better.
I’m hoping today or tomorrow to be able to read a novel; I’m really enjoying the one that I was reading before the surgery and would like to finish it, but my mind is all over the place and has been since coming home from the surgery. I haven’t even been able to focus on the TV I’ve been watching as much as I would like. Part of it is the depression, part of it is the holiday without Mom, and of course, the surgery. You see how I am? I’m being hard on myself after a major surgery for not getting anything done or being productive. Heavy sigh. Welcome to the wonderful world of what goes on inside my head.
And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and see if I can figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of the day, and what I can do about these errands. I hope you have a lovely Monday and as always, thank you for checking in and thank you for reading.
It truly is incredible what a shithole of a site The Site Formerly Known as Twitter has become under the tenure of that brilliant modern thinker Elon Musk (Narrator voice: those adjectives were meant as sarcasm). Every time I go there to cross-post the blog or something, it only takes a moment or two before I am getting the fuck out of that hellish place. I know I should probably just deactivate and be done with it as it fades away into memory like MySpace did once upon a time, but something keeps me there–despite knowing its immoral to even scroll a little bit, and definitely against my own personal ethics–but I think it’s more along the lines of watching a slow-motion disaster movie, frame by frame.
If only it would bankrupt him financially, to go along with his moral and ethical bankruptcies.
Yesterday wasn’t a very good day around the ranch. I was low energy all day, and while i did get all of my work-at-home duties taken care of and handled, after running errands and having a ZOOM call with three very dear friends (who undoubtedly are sick of me talking too much on ZOOM calls), I was just flat out exhausted and simply collapsed into my easy chair with my purr kitty for the evening. I did watch a lengthy documentary about the Eastern Roman Empire, and how the Holy Roman Empire was western Europe’s attempt to recapture and regrasp the legacy of Imperial Rome, to the point of rebranding the real Roman Empire as the Byzantine, or Greek, Empire. (The history of “western” civilization is full of these sorts of reclaimings and rebrandings, as the West sought to basically claim the history of civilization in general.) It just goes to show you–the history we all learned in public school was biased and written to enhance and create a foundation for white supremacy to rest upon. There’s a rather lengthy personal essay to be written about having to relearn everything I learned as a child as an adult because it was all wrong–or people could just read Howard Zinn’s work.
Today I do have some errands to run and vaccines to get injected into my arms; I also have things around the house I need to get done. I am going to make Swedish meatballs today in the slow cooker, I think; that’ll be a nice treat to go along with the LSU game tonight against Georgia State. There really aren’t many great games today–everyone has an “easy” game scheduled for the weekend before the Thanksgiving rivalry games, many of which this is the last go-around for. It’s weird to think LSU won’t be playing their most hated rival, Florida, every year any more (but how delightful to go out with a five game winning streak over them, ha ha ha ha and fuck off, Gators), or that other classic games won’t occur anymore. I don’t know why or when LSU’s Thanksgiving rivalry weekend opponent changed from Arkansas to Texas A&M; that was a fun rivalry with the Razorbacks pulling off some upsets over the years–why is it that everyone plays lights-out when they play LSU?–but that was also a manufactured rivalry that didn’t exist before Arkansas joined the SEC.
I also want to spend some time reading this morning; Lou Berney’s Dark Ride is calling my name and I am really enjoying it. The fun thing about Lou’s work is everything is always different; no two books are ever the same, or even the same kind of voice or style. Every book is an original in every way, and I will go to my grave with The Long and Faraway Gone as one of my favorite crime novels of all time. The one thing I am looking forward to after this surgery is more time to read, and if need be, I can read on my iPad–it’s not like I haven’t downloaded hundreds of books over the years. I’m still enjoying The Rival Queens–man, I love that period of French history–and I think my next read after Lou’s will be Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien; since it’s about a weed dispensary heist, coming after Lou’s stoner noir seems like the proper pairing, and then after that I am moving on to the new Angie Kim.
I was exhausted last night so I slept incredibly well. I even slept in this morning, not getting out of bed before eight-thirty like a slag. I feel much more rested and emotionally even this morning, which is a very good thing. I want to get a lot done today–I really need to move furniture and figure out how to make my work station more Big Kitten Energy proof, which is possible but will take some figuring out, and I won’t be able to move anything after Tuesday’s surgery, after all, so I have to get all this stuff done before hand. I don’t feel like I’ve had the chance to think everything through the way it needs to be thought through, nor do I feel like I am prepared for the aftermath and recovery period–which I think was the explanation for yesterday’s low energy; created and maintained completely by my anxiety.
I also want to read this original text version of The Mark on the Door, a Hardy Boys mystery.
We watched Blue Beetle last night, and I really enjoyed it. First, it was lovely seeing a Latinx family centered in a super-hero movie, and to have a super-hero of Mexican ancestry. It had some really funny moments (as well as some that made me go huh?), and as far as DC/Marvel movies go, it was one of the more solid plots and origin stories, but I’m also not terribly familiar with the Blue Beetle character. I primarily remember/knew him from the Justice League comic books of the late 1980’s/early 1990’s, and he was often teamed up with Booster Gold for comedy. I don’t know what has happened to the character with all the reboots since then, but I appreciated seeing something different from a comic book movie. The lead actor, young Xolo Maridueña, was handsome and appealing and charismatic, and the rest of the cast is fine other than the old witch who gave us Presidents Nader and Sanders because she doesn’t vote with her vagina (maybe you should have, you fucking piece of trash, since your mouth and going everywhere all over 24 hour news to trash Hillary helped give us the current Supreme Court, and you should be shunned and forced to take a Game of Thrones walk of shame down Pennsylvania you fucking hateful bitch–I will carry that grudge to the grave, skank). Seeing that fucking trash was in the cast made me seriously reconsider watching, frankly, and her “acting” was a joke and so horrific that Paul and I spent a good hour recasting with actresses who wouldn’t have just cashed the check and phoned it in the way she did.) The movie is actually strongest when it focuses on the Reyes family and their dynamic (Nana is the absolute best), and while it didn’t pull down the kind of financial numbers a movie like this is intended to (and odds that it’ll be blamed by Hollywood on centering a Latinx family are pretty strong), I do think this is one of the movies that in the future will be reclaimed as a classic and one of the best in the field. I hope there will be a sequel, as was teased at the end.
But I think they’re rebooting the movie universe for DC, so who knows.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous, marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and may whatever teams you’re rooting for today have a nice win–unless you’re a Georgia State fan, of course.
Queer and Loathing in America 