Tag: anxiety

Words

I am off today, as I have a lot of appointments to get me and Paul too (we always try to schedule our appointments on the same day to get them out of the way) and we are going to go to Costco later. I need to pick up prescriptions and go to the mail, too, and I also need to get some writing done, some cleaning and organizing, and reading done this weekend. Sparky got me up early this morning, but I’ll take the extra hour or so of sleep he afforded me this morning. Now that he’s been fed, he is nowhere to be seen. This morning before we start off on our long day out in the heat, I am going to finally make that damned to-do list I never got around to this weekend as well as figure out what I need to get from the grocery store this weekend and plan our meals. I think we’ll skip cooking out this weekend and I’ll try some new recipes that I’m interested in. I also need to clean out the refrigerator and get things out of there that need to be trashed. What a big, exciting day I have in front of me, don’t I? But it could be a lot worse.

We had a flooding storm again yesterday afternoon, which had me nervous for my drive home. Traffic in the evenings has been particularly horrible this week, and I’m not sure what that is all about, either, but it’s been highly annoying. It took me almost forty minutes to get home Wednesday night, and last night wasn’t much better–and I left early! But I got home, played with Sparky for a while, and then went down some Youtube video wormholes as I did so more research on 1994. It was only thirty years ago (!) but it was such a different world, and of course my memory is only so good, you know? It was actually a lovely, relaxing, and informative evening that I almost had lost track of time until Paul got home (late, grants again). I also have some electronic files to sort, too (always).

And it’s Friday, so the bed linens need laundering.

Such an exciting life I lead, right?

But it’s kind of nice to be in a period where everything in my life has kind of slowed down and settled. The first half of this year has sped by–at the start of the year I was still going to Physical Therapy twice a week for my arm, and I was tired all the time–and it’s almost August. Our anniversary is tomorrow–twenty-nine long years–and that just kind of snuck up on me. Twenty-nine years! Had someone told me thirty years ago that I was a year away from finding my life partner I would have laughed in their face. I do need to get back into the gym regularly–I’ll do that later on today–and maybe I’ll take tomorrow off from things? My birthday is also a month from tomorrow, too–I’ll be sixty-three, yikes–but I don’t feel sixty-three, but I suppose no one does. My sixties are certainly not what I thought they would be; with all the cruelty of youth I assumed that was Old Age, and it’s kind of not? My body isn’t breaking down at all. The biceps thing was an accident and could have happened at any age, really. My lower back was starting to bother me, and so were my hips, which was worrisome…and then I changed out my everyday shoes for a new pair and voilà! My lower back and hips no longer hurt. Sigh. I really can be stupid sometimes. No, that’s not fair to me, the word I should use is oblivious. I’ve always been oblivious, and when I was younger, I had serious trouble reading a room.

Not that I am much better now, but without the anxiety (thank you meds!) I am not terrified of that happening now.

That, I think, is the greatest life change I made this year: the new meds and getting rid of anxiety. I still have some, to be sure, but I don’t spiral the way I used to and it doesn’t affect me physically anymore, and what more can I ask for? I had no idea how much of my life was controlled by anxiety, and how much of my behavior was either a reaction to the anxiety or a workaround to try to get past anxiety. It’s also nice to not waste time on it anymore, too. (Had I been a medieval king, they would have called me Gregory the Anxious.)

And so, on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I’ll be back later, of course, as there are a few blog drafts I want to finish and get out of the drafts folder, but I hope you have a day that is as marvelous as you are, Constant Reader, and see you soon!

Waterloo

Thursday and Work-at-Home Day Eve.

I did have a pretty good day yesterday; although I did start flagging a bit in the afternoon. I paid the bills, always depressing, and then stopped on the way home to make groceries and cleaned things up a bit around the apartment. I wrote last night and made some progress on the book–not enough, but it’s never enough–and also started working on another short story for a submissions call that I think’s deadline is next month sometime? It may even be later, one truly never knows unless one checks–and I really need to be better about putting deadlines for submission calls on my calendar. But that would make sense and be efficient!

You see where this is going, don’t you? Yes, I am starting to come out from under a bit, and yes, I am pretty pleased about it. My email inbox is down to almost nothing, and I’m starting to feel like my old self again–creative, with my mind zapping around in a million directions at all times, but now again able to zone in with extreme focus again when I need to. Whew. That’s quite a relief. I wasn’t terribly stressed; I just figured I’d have to figure out another way to push myself back into the writing somehow. I do wonder sometimes if not having stress and anxiety would become a problem for me in and of itself–but that is a vestige of the stress and anxiety, isn’t it? I’m so unused to this! I feel like I have so much more time than I did before, if that makes sense? My life has pared down in many ways, on every level, and I kind of like it like this. I like not getting worn out by the emotional rollercoaster of anxiety and all of its horrific side effects. I like being relaxed instead of tightly spooled. I like sleeping at night, and not being tired in the morning. I hated that feeling of drowning, not being able to keep up, and always falling further and further behind on everything.

I slept well again last night, which was great. I feel rested today, which is great, and my brain is actually functioning this morning. Let’s hope this is a good omen for the weekend, shall we? After I wrote last night, I did some cleaning around here and watched news clips on Youtube to catch up on what’s going on around the world. The Key Bridge collapse yesterday was a horrible event, and of course the right decided that it was somehow Pete Buttigieg’s fault that a container ship lost power and hit the bridge? Honestly, they are such garbage, and we’re lucky as a nation that we have someone compassionate, driven, and smart as Secretary of Transportation. After all, Maryland is a pretty consistent blue state, so why would they deserve any help from the White House had the coup attempt succeeded? We’d be living in a different country, for one thing, and we need to be sure that different country never happens. I think Dobbs and the Alabama Supreme Court decision on IVF were bridges too far for most Americans, as the special election in Alabama showed us this week. Women and men are PISSED OFF, and just because the media wants to keep shoving the right down our throats while undermining the left doesn’t mean a fucking thing. All the polling in Alabama was distinctly off, and it was a 35 point swing from the 2022 election. The Democrats need to keep hammering them on their discrimination and their contempt for women as anything other than brood mares; incubators for their children.

And how lovely would it be if a blue Congress codified the right to choose, the freedom to marry? The best fuck you ever to Alito and Thomas, the worst and most corrupt justices since Roger P. Taney. Congressional Republicans also exposed themselves by voting down IVF protections. And my guess is there will be another insurrection when Don Poorleone loses in November, count on it. The difference this time will be that the National Guard will be there in no-time, and if they kill more traitors like Ashli Babbitt, so be it.

And for the record, everyone involved in January 6th? We sent the Rosenbergs to the chair. Stop whining and do your time. You’re not patriots, you’re traitors. And for the record, conservatives in 1775 were Tories, i.e. were on the side of the British. Sorry you can’t read and aren’t capable of coherent, logical thought, but if you don’t know any history it’s probably best if you don’t bring it up. That’s why the Tea Party particularly infuriated me; they adopted an “iconic” Revolutionary War event, dressed themselves up that way, and called themselves “patriots”–for opposing the Affordable Care Act. In other words, they were calling themselves the modern-day equivalents of people protesting a massive corporate tax cut. What? That’s right, the tea tax was also a tax break for the East India Company, so they could sell tea in the American colonies more cheaply than American vendors, which also raised the question (again) of “taxation without representation.” The Affordable Care Act was definitely not taxation without representation–and the Tea Party was the root source of the MAGAts, and Sarah Palin was once its queen and shining star. Remember when we thought she was the worst the Republicans could inflict on the country? Ah, for the innocence of 2008 again; when grifting became a major player in American politics.

Heavy heaving sigh.

I have long been tired of the idea that the only real Americans live in the country and small towns, are Christians, and thus are the real patriots. Cities are the economic engines that drive the country, for the record. The point of our system is that we all cooperate together; the entire point of the government is compromise; not demand things all be your way and if you don’t get your way, you throw a tantrum and bring everything crashing down. There’s also no one way to be an American, either. The hijacking of patriotism by the right–by people who don’t understand their country or its government–is something I’ve long deplored. The goal was never perfection–the founders were very aware of human frailties and weaknesses–but to always strive to be better. And are red states better places to live than blue ones? Our new governor here in Louisiana seems determined to out-Desantis Desantis; who knows how much worse things are going to be here once he is finished doing the job of utter destruction of Louisiana that Bobby Jindal started?

I wish I had more time to devote to studying our politics here in Louisiana so I could write about it more.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and you never know; I may be back later.



Pink Shoe Laces

My blog has gotten a little more feisty than it’s been in quite some time. I’ve talked before about how I toned myself down a bit on here–I have no desire to argue with anyone about my opinions, thank you very much–but I’ve also started speaking out again against insanity and cruelty and stupidity. Despite the loss of the anxiety, I still get angry about cruelty and injustice. I also tend to not talk about things where my opinion isn’t perhaps as educated as others’; I defer. I also don’t want to ever speak for another marginalized communit1y other than my own–and I always make it clear I only speak for myself. I am not a tastemaker or an influencer or anything like that, not am I some great authority on anything other than my own experience, education, and feelings–and sometimes I even question that. I’ve also recently realized how I am not nearly as self-aware as I have always smugly told myself I am; in fact I am capable of self-delusion to an almost pathological extent. But as long as I continue to learn and grow, and don’t dismiss anything out of hand because something isn’t my experience. I do think I am different from most in that I listen to new perspectives and don’t reflexively react negatively to changes in culture and society. It gets frustrating for me when people are obtuse about queer issues and often refuse to listen (there’s nothing quite like being straight-splained about queer experience); so I always want to be open to anything that isn’t bigotry or prejudice (I will never be open to either of those). My trans friends have been an incredible exercise in educating myself and understanding and above all else, compassion…and so have my racialized friends (I saw a Black woman use that term on social media instead of non-white or people of color; I kind of like it because it’s true. White people invented the construct of race identity and racism to begin with, so using racialized seems appropriate to me).

I hate that I’ve basically had to spend most of my adult reeducating myself, but at least I never get tired of learning. Society and the culture have gotten a lot better about a lot of things, but we still have a long way to go.

I finally appealed an egregious medical decision by the most evil of insurers, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Louisiana, and faxed the form along with my letter of complaint (about multiple issues since they have taken over insuring me the first of this year) and all the necessary documentation–the entire thing wound up being fifteen pages and OOPS, I may have sent it to them twice. They were a shit company when I was saddled with them because of preexisting conditions before the Affordable Care Act; I couldn’t switch insurers fast enough once that became law, and now I am stuck with them again–and they are just as shitty as they were before (which I pointed out again in my letter, along with all the violations of the Affordable Care Act they’ve committed with just ME alone; God only knows what an audit would show). Y’all fucked with the wrong faggot, and if this isn’t resolved, I will not rest until they’ve all been fired.

Obviously, they’ve clearly never met me.

I slept better last night than I have all week so far, which is definitely weird. We’re in a dense fog advisory with potential rain today, but it’s bright and sunny and the sky is clear and beautifully blue this morning. I ain’t gonna lie, much as I love rain, I don’t like being out in it. I love rainy days on the weekend, when you can just snuggle up under a blanket and get some reading done. I’m starting to get better organized with everything, and my life is slowly starting to come back to what it was before the surgery. I’ve also realized that I’ve been in a kind of transitional malaise, the way I feel only after I’ve finished a book and need to get started writing another one. I also am coming out of the malaise, I believe. Both days this week so far had been a bit off, and today I feel…more normal than I did the last two days. I don’t know what that will translate into in regards to writing, but I am hoping to climb back up on that horse this week, maybe even tonight when I get home. The apartment is looking better still, doesn’t need a lot of straightening, but there are some incomplete chores that I do need to finish before the weekend, preferably tonight–but that will depend on how I feel when I get home–how I survive another day at the office.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, all, and I will probably check in again later.

Ballet boys (ballerinos) have unbelievable bodies. I’ve always wanted to write a gay noir set in a ballet company…I mean, look at that effortless perfect split!
  1. I will never forget–or forgive–the straight white bitch who responded to a tweet I made about Marianne Williamson’s horrific lies about HIV/AIDS in the 1990s who told me to “be quiet and listen to Marianne’s beautiful message”. I doubt that bitch will ever tell a gay man to shut up about HIV/AIDS again. ↩︎

How Do You Do?

Saturday morning and I feel good. It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day outside–yesterday and the day before were gorgeous–and I don’t feel exhausted or fatigued or tired. My muscles are a bit fatigued, but they aren’t sore, which is super great. I also woke up early for a Saturday, too. I am thinking this might turn out to be a terrific day. I am going to go drop books off for the library sale and get the mail and wash the car (it was attacked by a mob of birds, from the looks of it) before coming home and having a nice rest of my day–hopefully productive. I did have a productive day yesterday, too.

My legs are a bit fatigued from walking to the gym yesterday as well as going to Costco, but as opposed to PT, I wasn’t worn out from it nor did I fall asleep in my chair. I’m not sure what that means, really; is my stamina coming back? Does it have to do with the time of the day? I don’t know, but it was a lovely evening for a walk and the program I am doing on my own is relatively short; only eight different exercises. Huzzah! I honestly didn’t know how it would go, and having it go relatively easily was actually quite nice. We’ll see how this continues to go, and then I am going to get back into a regular three times per week routine after the therapy is all done. I am going to have a different mentality completely this time with exercise, as well–more concern about my health than trying to look good. Feeling better is much more desirable than looking better, if that makes sense? (I always tried to keep my mind on the benefit of working out rather than the physical improvement, but it rarely if ever worked because I was so hard on myself about not being in shape and not looking better and so on. Anxiety.)

I didn’t finish putting away everything from Costco last night, so I’ll have to finish that today. I also need to do some filing and organizing, and the floors definitely need to be worked on. I also want to get some reading and writing done, too. My plans for the weekend perhaps might be overly ambitious, but so be it; they always have been historically but you can’t get stuff done unless you’re overly ambitious. We shall see how the day goes, I suppose.

We watched the LSU Gymnastics last night, and then Paul went back upstairs to work some more while I relaxed downstairs and watched a true crime documentary called Down the Hill: The Delphi Murders, which…I don’t know. Doing a true crime documentary about an unsolved case seems…unsatisfying, at least to me as a viewer. (Granted, Murder on the Bayou and all the others about the Jeff Davis Eight also ended with no one being apprehended; yet it was very interesting all the way through.) I am not going to lie–watching true crime documentaries are often inspiring for me and give me ideas about stories and books to write, so I also have an ulterior motive in watching them. Down the Hill wasn’t that interesting of a story, to be honest, but the image of the railroad bridge that ended on the other side with no more tracks is one that will stick with me for a while. (I’m in the process of writing a short story called “The Haunted Bridge”, so that also is kind of helpful in some ways.)

I think this morning–before I run my errands–I may rewatch Saltburn so I can finish my essay about it. This is one of the few movies in recent memory that really resonated with me as I watched, seeing layers and possibilities within the story that straight people apparently didn’t pick up on? Which is why I think it’s important for me to talk about it from a gay male perspective, which sounds rather arrogant now that I’ve written it down, doesn’t it? But the gay perspective is so often not covered in media, and it’s the kind of lens that straight people have trouble seeing. (Hint: the one film that Saltburn reminded me the most of is one that no one ever mentioned, which…renders a lot of the criticisms directed at the film moot? And why on earth did no one compare it to The Great Gatsby, another book/film about someone infiltrating the world of the rich?)

As you can see, my mind is waking up. I’ve noticed this week that my mind seems clearer than it has in a long time, and the fog I’ve been dealing with since having COVID in the summer of 2022 seems to have finally lifted. I made it through the week with energy and not feeling tired and getting things done, as though my Type A personality has finally reemerged from a years-long sabbatical. Which means…that it’s time to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines this morning. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll undoubtedly be back later.

Amazing Grace

Wednesday and the parades are rolling again tonight. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with this, to be honest. I can’t believe it’s the final weekend of Mardi Gras madness already, can you? I have to run a couple of errands today after leaving work, trying to get it all accomplished and get my ass home while it’s still possible to find a place to park. Much as I don’t want to deal with the errands tonight, tomorrow would be even more difficult as it’s Muses Thursday, and going straight home from work is no guarantee I can park within a mile of the house. Sigh. The pleasure of living inside the box, right?

I was super tired when I got home yesterday, and I never did feel like I was fully awake all day, to be honest. I was finally able to get my night time prescription refilled again, after the first pill bottle mysteriously disappeared (all fingers point at Sparky, and it’s probably under the dishwasher or the couch), and so I had to adjust back from one medication (I still had my old night time medication) to the right one again, which would explain why yesterday I never felt like my brain escaped the fog. Today is, in fact, the first day in a long time where I’ve felt mentally alert again, which is great. It’s terrible when you’re not on your game, and you aren’t sure why; now that I am in my sixties mental things are much more alarming than they used to be–and some memories I’ve forgotten are so forgotten even when I am reminded, in great detail, I don’t remember anything about it. That’s disturbing on a very deep level; my mental acuity is something I do worry about as I get older. We don’t have any mental deterioration diseases in the family as far as I can remember–I need to ask Dad about that, along with any other genetic conditions he and Mom might have or know about within the family (we aren’t a family that talks about that sort of thing much; I think it’s mostly because we have so much genetic tendency to faulty wiring in our brains to begin with)–but I think I’d know about it if it was in the immediate family.

Anyway, tonight when I get home from work I need to do some laundry and the dishes. I don’t know if I’ll go out to the corner tonight or not, but all signs point to not. Nyx is the final parade tonight, and as far as I know, Nyx is still a horrific white supremacy krewe (last year my mind was not on Carnival), so I don’t know if I’d want to go to that even if I didn’t have to get up so early in the morning tomorrow. I do need to write about that at some point, don’t I? The great thing about being a crime writer is you never run out of prejudice, bigotry and hate to write about.

It looks like I’ll be going to Alabama to see family and visit Mom’s grave next weekend; Dad is going down for the anniversary of losing her, and I’ll go up and meet him up there for the weekend. It’s just easier, really, for me to go instead of my sister, and I don’t think Dad should do these grave visits without one of us there for him. It’s also kind of for me; it’s just easier mentally and emotionally to focus on Dad’s loss rather than my own. It’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with it, but this is how I generally deal with any kind of personal loss or tragedy in my life: focus on the grief of others. I also suppose that the impending anniversary (today, I think, is the anniversary of her final stroke? It’s all murky to me other than knowing she died on Valentine’s Day) has probably also been working on me subconsciously (subconscious BASTARDS!!!) and could have something to do with the foggy funk I’ve been in lately, in addition to the unfortunate medication change of the last couple of weeks.

I didn’t watch the Grammys the other night, but I did watch the Tracy Chapman/Luke Combs “Fast Car” performance on Youtube, which brought back a lot of memories. “Fast Car” was a very important song in the development of my life and my adulthood; the lyrics of feeling trapped and needing to escape a toxic life situation resonated very deeply with Double Life Gregalicious, and helped start the process of finally merging those two very separate mentally unhealthy existences, which is something else I should blog about–but it was amazing seeing the audience reaction to a middle-aged out Black lesbian, and I’m going to have to listen to her album again; it’s been a hot minute. But thanks again, for your voice and your music and your soul, Ms. Chapman.

I did edit a short story–or started editing, at any rate–last night, and it really is amazing what you don’t see when you’re in the midst of writing it and when you come back to it again after a lengthy period of time. “How the hell did I not see how clunky that sentence is?” was constantly running through my mind, and I also realized what the point of the story was–he’s reached his breaking point, and I need to communicate that to the reader more clearly than in the original draft. It felt good, you know, to work on something, and feel like I was doing some good polishing work on it. I really do love writing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely check in again with some more blatant self-promotion later.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

I did not want to get up this morning. PT was particularly exhausting yesterday after work, and I also made groceries right after. By the time I got into the apartment and had the car unloaded, I…don’t really remember much of the rest of the evening, other than I sat in my chair and watched documentaries about the Eastern Roman Empire on Youtube for most of the rest of the night before I retired to bed early. I feel very rested this morning but still a bit tired, and also like I am running a bit on accessory. I know once the fog in my mind clears I’ll be ready to get this show on the road, but right now all my body wants to do is go back to bed and climb back into the blanket cocoon. Today is going to bounce around between 48 and 55 degrees, with the potential for wind and rain all day. Sounds like the kind of day when you’re very grateful to get back into the house after work, doesn’t it? It’s hard to believe it’s only Tuesday.

I know I will be very grateful to go back to bed tonight and go back to sleep. Clearly, I need more coffee.

I ordered a toy for Sparky that comes on a stretchy string and you hang from the doorframe, and he’s been playing with it almost incessantly since I hung it up. Given he bored very quickly of every other toy we’ve gotten him, I now know the answer: a hanging toy. He’s been trying to get the mouse ever since we came downstairs, and he spent hours jumping at it last night (which was cute; he also finally got it down at one point and dragged it into the living room to show me, and then took it upstairs to show Paul; who brought it back down and rehung it for more hours of kitty entertainment). He was also cuddly last night when he wore himself out, and he was cuddly this morning in bed. Could it be all he needed was a hanging toy? He’s also getting so big! He still likes to ride on my shoulders, draped around my neck–I have to let him up there every time I get home from work, and then I have to walk him over to the dangling ceiling fan cords–and wants to go up there every morning, and he rides up there as I walk down the stairs, chirping happily. He still doesn’t meow; like I said, he still just chirps, or some variation of the chirp–he draws it out into a whine sometimes, but that’s really it for cat noises from him so far.

Ah, now the caffeine is starting to jumpstart my engine and I am beginning to feel more awake, more alive, more ready to face this Tuesday before Mardi Gras. Parades begin again tomorrow, and run every day from there till Fat Tuesday. I have to leave work earlier every night the rest of this week, so I can get home before they close the streets and (hopefully) find a place to park within a mile of the house. I did take Monday off, so once I am finished here Thursday I don’t have to go anywhere other than to PT Friday morning and one final grocery run before the car is parked for four days. (Oh, I take that back; I do have PT on Lundi Gras in the morning–hopefully I’ll be able to park coming home from that excursion) and then I only have a three day work-week next week, which will make for a nice break. I hope to get stuff done on all those days at home; I will probably skip Wednesday night parades, go to Muses on Thursday, do the Friday night parades and Iris and Tucks on Saturday before skipping all of Sunday and going out for Orpheus Monday night.

I also felt a little off yesterday, and this morning realized I hadn’t taken my medications yesterday, which is never a good thing. It does make a difference–the absence of a new does of blood pressure and acid reflux and anti-anxiety meds is always noticeable the first time I forget, and extremely noticeable if I miss two consecutive days. I do feel calmer today than I did yesterday, and I was anxious a few times (should have been the tip-off, really) and snapped at other drivers a few times while driving around town. I also grew irritated and impatient with the woman in front of me at the grocery store, who seemed to think the smart way to unload her entire cart onto the belt was one item at a time per hand while trying to decide how she wanted them bagged, I suppose; she was arranging things on the belt and then digging through everything to find the next item to go on the belt properly. It was a very slow process and had I been on my meds yesterday I wouldn’t have been annoyed or irritated–because I would have thought ah, she has anxiety or is OCD or somehow isn’t wired right either rather than letting my own faulty wiring default to impatience. (As I started writing that example is when I realized her brain probably isn’t wired right, either–which I would have thought instead of impatiently scrolling through my phone and resisting the urge to say something snarky. Meds make a difference, seriously.)

And on that note, I am getting another cup of coffee and heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later–you never know.

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

And now it’s Thursday, the last day in the office for me this week, and I somehow made it through the entire week of going into the office without being tired by the end. The jury of course is still out about today–I’ll have to see how I feel at the end of the day, or mid-afternoon, of course–but I am very pleased to be awake and feeling rested this morning. I took it easy when I got home from work yesterday, spending some quality playtime with Sparky and watching some Real Housewives–my God, the Salt Lake City finale was some epic reality television–and couldn’t decide what to read next. I am leaning towards R. F. Kuang’s Yellowface (because I love me some publishing noir about authors behaving badly), but there are others in the running as well (most notably Tara Laskowski’s The Weekend Retreat). Tonight when I get home from work I will decide; I am coming home straight from work again; no need to run errands on the cusp of the weekend. I also need to get back to writing, and the sooner the better. I have high hopes for this weekend because it appears as though I won’t be tired going into the weekend, and the kitchen isn’t nearly as big a mess as it usually is on Thursdays–so if I can get the dishes handled tonight, I’ll be way ahead of things when I get home from PT tomorrow morning. I am seeing Dr. O’Brien at last on Saturday, so I am hoping to kiss the brace goodbye once and for all. LSU Gymnastics also has their first meet on Friday night, which is always fun to follow. The team is really loaded this year, too. GEAUX TIGERS!

I also want to get to the library sale this weekend to donate some books, too. Maybe I can spend some time tonight and tomorrow night pruning out more books. The laundry room is nearly under control again, but there are still even more books that can go.

And I should really started copy-editing Jackson Square Jazz so I can finally get that ebook up and available for readers. I am losing money every day that book isn’t available, and I might be able to run a promo when it becomes available (I am thinking of offering Bourbon Street Blues for free and Jackson Square Jazz for $1.99 for about a month or so). I mean, it makes sense: Scotty turns 21 this year, so I should be promoting the hell out of the Scotty series this year–and should really write another to get out this year, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve always focused more on writing the books than promoting them; I only have so much bandwidth, and writing/editing generally uses up the megabytes in my brain that have to do with writing/publishing. I’ve also been very shy about promo, too–which was the anxiety bedeviling me. Maybe now that I am on the right medications, that won’t be a problem going forward. It’s already helped me with some aspects of doing public stuff; so maybe my nervous aversion to doing things in public has become a thing of the past? Worth a try, at any rate, right?

I also need to work on the procrastination thing I’ve been dealing with for the majority of my life. Why do I always feel the need to wait until the last minute for everything? Why will I always goof off now instead of doing the things I need to do so I can goof off later? This would always immediately play into my anxiety, and always made my stress levels go off the charts. Was that what drove me to get so much done? Stress and anxiety and the pressure I used to put on myself? Will I be able to get as much done in the future now that the anxiety is medically handled? It does make me a bit worried, but I am sure I’ll get back on that horse when I need to.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again later, most likely.

(It’s Going to Be a) Lonely Christmas

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and if you don’t–well, happy Monday off!

Yesterday was not a good day. I woke up feeling like crap, and it never really got much better until later in the day, when I realized it had started raining during the night. It rained all day, actually, and I was so tired and dragged out and felt so terrible that I didn’t put it together until late in the afternoon–oh, this is SINUS related, because of the rain–and took a Claritin-D, which made me feel somewhat better. I also slept super good and slept in, too. I did manage to get some things done yesterday too–I finished reading Buried in a Good Book (more on that later) and started reading another one. We also finished watching both Looking the series, and then watched the wrap-up film (more on that later as well). I am going to pick out my next read, spend some time with it this morning, and at some point today we are probably going to watch Saltburn. I also have to put the turkey breast in the slow cooker (pulled turkey is quite delicious) and put dishes away, but I also have tomorrow off, so am not overly concerned about getting things organized and cleaned up. I worked on the books some more and pruned some more out, and started learning how to use the microwave–which does make a difference.

Christmas is usually when I started looking back on the year, and 2023 was a bit of a rollercoaster for me (they usually are). My personal life really sucked balls this past year, but it was a very good year for me professionally. The year started with me behind on two deadlines, but I managed to get both books finally finished and turned in, once I was able to turn MWA over to my successor, which was part of the delay on the books. In late January I injured my arm, and got misdiagnosed by my primary care physician. As we rolled into Mardi Gras, Mom had a massive stroke and I drove up to Kentucky to see her one last time in hospice. She didn’t really know me, she was pretty much unresponsive unless she was in pain, and it was rough. I drove home that Sunday, and she died on Valentine’s Day, so I had to drive up to Alabama that last weekend of Mardi Gras for the funeral. Not going to lie, it was tough losing my mother, and it’s been tough all year. I have sublimated most of my grief into worry about Dad, frankly. I went up and met him in Alabama for their anniversary, and we convoyed up to Kentucky, where I stayed for a week. I met Dad at my aunt and uncle’s place in Panama City Beach in October for their birthdays. When my primary care finally recognized what was wrong with my arm (torn biceps), I got referred to a orthopedic surgeon–but I needed a specialist. I had all my teeth removed finally in September, right after Labor Day, but didn’t get my new teeth until the week before the arm surgery, so was on a soft diet for two months which sucked….and then had to go back on it after the surgery because I couldn’t really cut up food. I also got hearing aids, which was great and has helped dramatically.

I also finally realized what the core mental issue was, thanks to a conversation with Dad–when I found out she suffered from generalized anxiety disorder and the light bulb went on over my head: that is exactly what is wrong with me, and all these years what I thought was “normal” because I didn’t know any different and I just always thought I was like Mom…yeah, I am like Mom, and all these years all I’ve been doing is treating symptoms and not the root cause. In consultation with my new primary care doctor, I weaned off the old medication and started treating the anxiety and the insomnia (anxiety related) properly, and it has made such an amazing difference in my life. I think more clearly, and I can analyze myself better. I’ve also started thinking about how most of my life I’ve tried to avoid confrontation (like Mom) and whenever something has happened that hurt me…well, I’ve tried to avoid those kind of situations again. My trust issues come from the anxiety and being hurt before, and I also realized that my socialization as a child was delayed and/or stunted because of being unable to control my brain. I had undiagnosed ADD as a child, and I feel pretty sure that’s carried over to my adulthood, as well. I couldn’t focus or concentrate because I didn’t know how to shut my brain off or keep it until control. The only time I could find peace, really, was reading or writing.

Professionally, I started off the year by getting nominated for a Lefty for Best Humorous for A Streetcar Named Murder, which was a very pleasant surprise. I debated going, but the timing was bad and with all the traveling I was having to do for family stuff, I had to conserve and preserve paid time off. This was followed up by an Agatha nomination for Best Children’s/Young Adult for #shedeservedit, and this time I did go. I lost to Enola Holmes, but I also became friends with Elizabeth Bunce (we’d been nominated together for an Anthony the year before) and Frances Schoonmaker, who was an absolute delight. I was nominated for three Anthonys at Bouchercon this year–Children’s/YA again; anthology for Land of 10000 Thrills, and Best Humorous for Streetcar again. None of those nominations ended with a win, but for me the nominations alone were the real win. I never ever thought I would be shortlisted for mainstream mystery awards, and what a delightful surprise.

I did publish two novels this year–a new series debuting with Death Drop, and the ninth Scotty, Mississippi River Mischief. I also got an (undeserved) editorial credit for School of Hard Knox, along with Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, for publisher Crippen and Landru–which meant working with my dear friend Jeffrey Marks. I have a story in the book, too–“The Ditch”–which was something I’d been working on forever. I also published two more short stories, “Solace in a Dying Hour” in This Fresh Hell, and “The Rosary of Broken Promises” for Dancing in the Shadows. I’m pleased with both stories, but I also need to get more. I have any number of incomplete projects that are nagging at me that I would like to finish in the new year. SO MANY PROJECTS.

But I feel good today, and very rested. I’d intended to take today as a do-nothing day, but I will probably do stuff because I am not really wired to not do anything all day.

And on that note, I will wish you happy holidays for the moment and head into the…well, not the spice mines, but perhaps a spice resort?

Run Rudolph Run

I can’t help hearing today’s title sung to the tune of that horrible story song from the 1970’s, “Run Joey Run.”

Yesterday was exhausting. I got up early to go get the oil changed (to discover that on my next visit the maintenance due–the car is going to be seven in January–will cost about $600, and I also will need to replace two tires eventually; but those are the two originals that are left, and over seven years for a tire is pretty great. I’ll deal with the $600 when I have to). I also went and made groceries, got gas, picked up a prescription, and treated myself to Five Guys. I got home at almost one; and then it started to rain and get colder. It was a perfect day for reading, and being exhausted…is there anything more cozy than reading a book while it’s raining and cold out and you’re under blankets with a sleeping, purring kitty in your lap? I think not. I did finish reading Calypso, Corpses, and Cooking (that Oxford comma is important in the title) by Raquel V. Reyes (more on that later), and started my next book, Buried in a Good Book by Tamara Berry–but only got a few pages in before I got antsy to start working on things. I slept really well last night, and even slept in a bit this morning, which was lovely and felt marvelous. I am going to be productive today–or at least as long as my energy lasts, at any rate. I’ve made a list of things that I absolutely have to get done today, and I am going to plug away at it until everything is marked off. We watched the last two available episodes of Reacher last night, and am enjoying it quite a bit. I recognized the opening scene at the ATM with the carjacking victim, but couldn’t remember which book it was from–turned out to be Bad Luck and Trouble, which fills in the rest of Reacher’s back story–the first was about his brother and family; this is his professional career, which makes sense for viewers who’ve not read the books–it answers a lot of questions about the character and opens the door to more adaptations of the book.

I also made chicken white bean chili yesterday, but by the time it was done and ready to eat I’d been snacking all afternoon and evening and wasn’t hungry for it. I have once again made more food than we can possibly eat for the week. Oh, well.

My body is starting to get back to normal, but it’s my stamina that needs to be worked on, seriously. This running out of energy by the time the sun sets (way too early, in my opinion) isn’t great–nor is the fact that I find it increasingly difficult to remember things I should remember. It could also be my body getting used to the new meds, which seem to working very well. I’ve not really felt much stress or anxiety since I switched, which is a very good thing. And the ease with which I am weaning off the others means I probably wasn’t addicted, which was a concern; I don’t think I have the energy or the time to go into Rehab for a stay, and realistically there aren’t many options for that in New Orleans. I feel a lot better, overall, and the adjustment to changing meds hasn’t been too terrible, frankly. There are some side effects of the new meds I could do without (cottonmouth being the main irritation for me), but overall I feel much calmer, more relaxed, and capable of taking things as they come without freaking out too much.

I also have to make time–and have the energy–to make a red velvet cheesecake for the office for our potluck on Thursday. Friday is the big day–follow-up appointment with my surgeon for stitch removal and another evaluation, and I am hoping to move to not needing the brace either all the time, or at all. It’s awkward sometimes, and sometimes it is really inconvenient. It tires me out more when I am typing because of the way the brace has to rest on the desk, which raises the left hand higher than the right, so it’s an adjustment for both wrists and forearms, which tires them out faster than normal typing ordinarily would. But if this is the worst outcome from the surgery, I seriously can live with it as long as I need to. It’s hard to believe it’s almost been four weeks since my surgery; Thursday is the month anniversary.

Yikes.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close. Have a terrific Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back probably a little later.

Rock the Casbah

Wednesday morning, can’t trust that day. Not going to work on Monday messed my body clock up and thus set my brain on “not normal! not normal!” and so I am all messed up. All day yesterday I kept thinking it was Monday; this morning I woke up thinking it’s Tuesday, which it obviously is not. I am doing a really good job this morning of not letting anxiety take hold of my mind–it’s trying, really hard–because to complete the “leave” process from work I need a form filled out and signed by my surgeon. (My fault, had I paid more attention I would have known and could have taken it with me Monday morning; instead I had to fax it to his office yesterday and they will send it back today–which has me anxious.) It’s very weird to think that I’ll be out of work for three weeks–very very weird–this is the longest break from going in since the quarantine; and even then I had things to do at home. This is three weeks of not doing any day job work, having no day job responsibilities, and the entire days free to do with as I wish–within the context of being limited by the surgery recovery. I do plan on catching up on a lot of reading, and who knows? Maybe I’ll even be able to get some writing done, during my period of limited activity. At this point I really just want to be done with the surgery and be well into the recovery process.

I did a book event last night virtually with Tubby and Coo’s Bookstore, with Jean Redmann and H. N. Hirsch, which was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed it. Of course, having to use my brain and try to be smart and funny exhausted me, so Tug and I immediately repaired to my chair for an episode of Moonlighting, and some other Youtube videos before I finally went to bed. Paul didn’t get home until after I went to bed, so I didn’t get to see him at all yesterday; it’s that time of year again. I spent some time rereading Mississippi River Mischief and paging through Death Drop again; I’ve fallen behind on my blatant self-promotional posts because my creativity for that has kind of dried up–I’m not very good at it to begin with, really–but I know I need to do more, so I hoped looking through the books after talking about them for an hour would inspire me to find more things to post about them. We’ll see how that worked out today, won’t we?

I need to do some cooking this week, too–I wanted to make my mac-and-cheese (something else relatively soft but very delicious and filling) and I need to make a red velvet cheesecake, too. I don’t think I am going to go into the office on Friday, after all–Tug has to get another shot that morning, and there’s something else I have to do but can’t quite remember what it is as of yet, and at some point I need to take Paul to Costco to pick up his new glasses. But that means I’d have to do all this cooking and baking tonight, and I feel pretty confident in saying “yeah, I’m not going to be in the mood to do that tonight” because it’s a lot of fucking work and I also need to run errands on my way home. (See what I mean about it being later in the week than I think it is? I keep thinking oh you can do it tomorrow night because no I can’t.) I guess it will depend on how I feel when I get finished with everything I have to do tonight, and how much attention my sweet little needy kitten will need once I get home–because once I am in that chair and he’s a purring kitty donut, it’s over for the night. One thing I do find adorable about him (there are many many things I find adorable about him) is the way he sleeps on me. He’ll start out as a kitty donut, and then gradually stretch out on his back until his is sprawled across me full length on his back, legs akimbo, and dead to the world with his neck fully extended. I’m so glad we got him and I’m so glad he feels so safe and comfortable and loved and at home. (He did make a few appearances in the on-line event last night.)

I also have those questions we were asked last night, so I probably could turn those into a self-interview as a means of self-promotion. I’ve done that before, after all, and it always works. Hmmm. Something to ponder the rest of this morning, no doubt.

I am finding the imminent death of Twitter or the Social Medium Formerly Known as Twitter slow and painful to watch, yet for some reason I cannot seem to bring myself to deactivate my account there. I don’t worry that someone else will grab my user name and create a fraudulent Greg Herren account; why would anyone do that to me when there are any number of other, more important people you could impersonate to greater effect than me, after all. (Besides, there’s nothing stopping anyone from impersonating me on social media as it is; someone could be doing it as I type this and I have no idea) Social media used to be a lot of fun in the olden days before Q-Anon and MAGA and conspiracy theories and so forth; in other words, in the golden era pre-small-dicked-billionaire. There were always issues with Twitter and trolls; we always were hearing about people being hounded off Twitter by trolls or outraged mobs of users; there was an “old West” feel about Twitter, and it did seem like public lynchings and humiliations happened there a lot. I was always worried about tweeting something taken a way other than the one intended–which happens very frequently there–and going viral. (Anxiety, I have it about everything because it does NOT discriminate; there’s nothing too small for me to have massive anxiety about.) But I do miss the way Facebook and Twitter used to be–fun and functional places to reconnect with friends and/or readers. Now they’re just bad habits I can’t seem to quit, like smoking cigarettes or snorting coke–things I know aren’t good for me, do nothing for me and if anything at all, are incredibly bad for my mental health, yet can’t seem to stop doing. Well, I quite smoking twelve years ago and haven’t done cocaine since the 1980’s, so I know already I can give up bad habits. I just worry that I’ll lose touch with people I care about and don’t interact with or see enough as it is.

Heavy sigh. Why do small-dicked billionaires have to ruin everything?

But I feel rested and together this morning, much more so than the last few days, so here’s hoping for a good day today–by which I mean one in which I can focus and get shit done.

We’ll see how it goes, I reckon.

And off to the spice mines I go. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll catch you later.