Monday, December 28, 2020

About Me Monday: Teenage Crush

 


Someone on Twitter asked this, and the following was my reply.

Early on in my 12th year, it was Shaun Cassidy, and I was still a good Catholic girl going to Heaven. By the end of my 12th year, it was Bon Scott, and I was smoking cigarettes and weed and would say I was bound for hell, but I was already there. Hell was junior high.

That will learn them to ask those kinds of questions!

Junior high was a fucking hellscape. So was high school. The only things that got me through were alcohol, drugs, and music that I was told was my punch card to eternal damnation. 

Friday, December 25, 2020

Fat Friday: Everyone's Scapegoat

 


 I live my life wondering when someone I like is going to say something hateful and horrible about fat people and I will never be able to see that person the same way again. It's happened numerous times with people whom I still allow myself to like but I know they wouldn't offer me the same kindness. Why? Because I can't stand to live a life where I hate everyone for their ignorance. I'd have no-one left that I could like.

Recently, a fellow blogger and writer that I admire went off on a fatphobic tangent. This person uses a different name on Twitter than they do on their blog, so I didn't recognize that they were one and the same until I went to share their work on Twitter recently and said to myself, wait a minute, you're that asshole that I unfollowed last month because of your shit assertions that fat people shouldn't be allowed to accept themselves as they are and should keep trying to hate themselves thin, consequences be damned.

This person would probably tell me that if I'd just lose weight then people making digs at fat people wouldn't upset me so much. This is akin to saying "if you just didn't seem so gay, people wouldn't pick on you." Also, fuck that shit. Even if I lost weight, making digs at fat people is still not okay.

This person is an excellent writer--much better than me if I'm to be honest. But no matter how good you are at your craft, if your heart is full of venom for people whose bodies you don't find attractive, then it's a hearty fuck you from me to you. Regardless of how good your work is, I will no longer support or promote you.

And that is all I have to say about that.


Fat, ornery, and perpetually disappointed
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors on Pixabay

Hangry says Happy holidays. Even if you're fat. Hell, especially if you're fat.


Free use image from Pixabay

Free Use Image from Pixabay

Sunday, December 13, 2020

Dreamers, lovers, and Star Voyagers: WeWriWa: EU56

Dreamers, lovers, and Star Voyagers: WeWriWa: EU56: Hello fellow warriors. :-) Less than two weeks till Christmas. I hope youre all feeling some Christmas joy. It's a different year for s...

I know a lot of people who don't understand money. For a lot of years, I was one of them. I always figured there would be more where what I just spent came from. Then I ended up disabled. Good times!

Thursday, December 10, 2020

Mes crazy expériences: WeWriWar 333: The House at the Crossing 39

Mes crazy expériences: WeWriWar 333: The House at the Crossing 39:   Hello everybody and welcome for a new Sunday of writing with Weekend Writing Warrior and Snippet Sunday ! It's been a while since...

A fabulous bit of speculative fiction. 
Due to trauma in my younger years, I often felt that my personality was fractured, although not to the point of forming different personalities that took over.

Wednesday, December 9, 2020

Wanting Something, Expecting Nothing

  

Free use image by 5598375 on Pixabay

when I was younger
and craving celebration
inside I was lost

I keep to myself
embracing my emptiness
nothing fills the hole

~cie~

Write a "historical" poem.
I reflected on my past history of partying hardy to try and fill the hole in my soul. 


https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/12/weekly-scribblings-49-b-c-d-e-f-g.html
Use a given letter multiple times in your piece.
I'm not sure which letter was used the most, but E is a likely candidate.

This double-barrel Senryu was posted to these places:




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


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Saturday, December 5, 2020

Barriers

 


Barriers

5 December 2020

Written in response to the Tale Weaver prompt “Barriers.”

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/12/03/tale-weaver-304-barriers-december-3rd/

What barriers exist in your life?

Are they barriers that can be overcome?

I will probably use this prompt to create both a fiction and a non-fiction piece. It is inspiring thoughts for the latest chapter in my WIP, The Key Of Eidolon. However, I also have answers to the above questions.

I have both physical and psychological barriers to accomplishing my goals. They don’t stop me from trying, but they make things harder.

There are physical goals that I will never be able to accomplish because of my handicaps.

At this point, I can walk up to two miles a day using an upright walker. Without the upright walker, I can only manage between a quarter of a mile and a half mile, and a half mile is pushing it. I never thought I would be having to use a walker at 55 years old, and the promotional material for this item indicates that no-one else thinks that people my age are using such a device at my age either.

We need to stop with the assumption that only elderly people need assistive devices or that there is some sort of shame in needing an assistive device if you are not elderly. I have a lot of problems with my back. I am not ashamed to use this device, but I am very conscious of the fact that people are conscious of my use of it and some of them pity me for it.

I have diabetes. This is a disease that can be managed, but, conversely to the bill of goods that some overpriced snake oil sellers are trying to hand you, there is no cure for it. Type 2 diabetes does occasionally go into remission, but this happens so seldom that I do not expect it any more than I expect to grow several inches taller.

Diabetes does not really frighten me. I am aware that it makes me vulnerable to kidney failure, which also doesn’t particularly frighten me, although I would not want it. The one that scares me is the vulnerability to strokes and vascular dementia. Fuck a whole lot of that shit. Fortunately, I also take antihypertensive medication, so my blood pressure remains in the safe zone.

My thyroid destroyed itself when I was in my early teens, so I have been on and off thyroid medications since then. I can’t tolerate Synthroid. It gave me headaches and it almost put me in the E.R. because it was elevating my blood pressure and heart rate so much. Rather than consider that the Synthroid was the culprit, the doctor I was seeing at the time blamed my weight for causing my blood pressure to rise and put me on propranolol, which is a beta blocker. I have asthma. Beta blockers make me feel like I’m breathing underwater.

Because of the panic attacks I was experiencing when I became tachycardic (talk about your vicious feedback loops), he also put me on clonazepam. I tend to have paradoxical reactions to benzodiazepines, and I had the worst panic attack of my life. I went off ever single one of the medications. It took me three months to return to normally abnormal.

I have been on Armour thyroid for the past 14 years. My current P.A. has adjusted the dosage a couple of times to strike a balance between my TSH reading and my blood pressure and pulse. We seem to have found the sweet spot. I like my current P.A., who has been respectful and treats the patient rather than the chart.

Alas, although my TSH is now in the zone, I am still tired all the time. It is what it is.

I have been trying to get on disability this year. I have been working with a lawyer, and it is still taking forever. I lived in a state of constant anxiety for literal decades due to not being able to sleep properly because I was afraid that I would oversleep. I worked night shift because it worked out better for me than day shift. However, I can no longer do the punishing physical work that I used to do.

My son and I moved to a remote rural area in September of 2019, and we both love this house and this town very much. My son is high-functioning autistic. He has a lot of skills and he is physically able-bodied, but he has never been able to work a normal job.

Both of us would be happy enough to do certain types of remote work. However, even though it has been shown through the pandemic that certain jobs can be done remotely, nobody wants to hire the smelly poors or icky disabled people.

My physical appearance has also been a barrier to achieving certain of my goals, including, oddly enough, my writing goals. You’d think that it wouldn’t matter if a writer has a good face for radio, so to speak, but I’ve seen that, at least with female writers, people tend to want us to be pretty. Seriously, what the hell? Would looking like a beauty queen or a Playboy centerfold make me a better writer? I get so fed up with the bullshit and am disgusted that I’m still fighting the same battles at 55 that I was at 25.

So, what’s to be done? Well, I am nothing if not pig-headed, so I will keep hammering away at things until I make some headway.

I’ve been working to craft my Rough Writer monthly zine, which includes my WIP chapters, poems, and daily-ish nonfiction blather as well as anything else I may write in a month. Sometimes I think that this is a great idea and I’ll be sharing some wonderful wisdom. Other times I’m afraid it’s just another one of my crackpot ideas and that I’m not nearly as deep as I imagine myself to be. I suppose it remains to be seen, but at six bucks for some 50,000 words, you can’t beat the price!

And there you have my thoughts on the barriers in my life.

 ~cie~

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


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Dark Hearts Love Too: Thanks but No Thanks


A hard-hitting new rhyme that does not shy away from telling it like it is.

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Dark Hearts Love Too: Hold Me Again

Dark Hearts Love Too: Hold Me Again:  I wish that it was possible to ask you to come hold me now to feel your kiss upon my brow o...

A poem of the gloomy variety.

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Food Bank Feast

  

Free Use Image by Jamie Nast on Pixabay

eighteen-pound turkey
courtesy of the food bank
leftovers for days

~cie~

Write a bird poem

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/11/writers-pantry-47-breathe-in-words.html

note time

If all you wanted was the poem, you're done. See ya! Because now it’s time for the Power Haibun portion of the post. Buckle up, Bitches, ‘cause it’s gonna get wordy!

Every third Sunday, there is a food bank at the church in the little town where I live. There are two households in my house. My son and I make up one household and our unrelated housemate makes up the other. As Thanksgiving is coming up, each household got a turkey.

A giant turkey.

An eighteen-pound turkey.

I will be slow-roasting one of the turkeys all day and overnight starting at about noon tomorrow. Then early Thursday morning, my son and I will make the approximately 125-mile drive to my mother’s house. We will have a Thanksgiving lunch, and then my son and I will head home with a butt-ton of leftover turkey.

The food bank is a wonderful resource. I’ve heard people tell bad stories about food bank volunteers. One of my neighbors in the mobile home park where I used to live said that when she went to the food bank, one of the volunteers said to her: “why do you need to come here when you drive a car like that?”

She had a new car because her mother had given it to her.

The food bank where I live does not ask for proof of income. The food is surplus donated by grocery stores. It would be thrown out if it wasn’t given to people.

Today is Tuesday.

I went to the psychological evaluation part of my disability determination process.

I’ve been accused of being a space cadet, but it’s pretty certain that I don’t have dementia.

I do have depression and anxiety. I’ve had those pretty much my entire life. However, the reason I applied for disability is more because of my physical malfunctions than my psychological aberrations.

I have a lawyer, so I hope that will work in my favor. Because I’ve spent almost everything and am now worried about paying next month’s bills.

That’s 369 words

What follows is the CYA and promotional material that appears on every post.

Thanks for reading.

Have a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate such.

If you don’t, have a good day either way.


This prosery was posted to these places:

http://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com

https://lbry.tv/@poetryofthenetherworld:9

http://www.goodstufffromgrover.com


The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

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Saturday, November 21, 2020

Tell Me

  

Free use image by ijmaki on Pixabay

tell me just what you think I have to do
to be worthy of being treated well
to receive at least common decency
rather than disdainful, insulting slurs

tell me how perfect you think I must be
before I am immune to hateful words
what I would have to become isn't real
what gives you the right to spew such venom?

tell me where you learned to hate so deep
was it from society or parents?
you think you're cool whenever you're cruel
cut out your own heart with each hateful word

~cie~

Write a "tell" poem

This poem was posted to these places:




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Want more telling poetry?
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Share my mood on LBRY.





LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.

Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.

You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.


Friday, November 20, 2020

A Confession in Three Brief Reverse Haibuns for my Father

  

Image copyright Bill Dodd

college professor
he overthought everything
scrutinizing all

His thought process was on so many levels that he gave himself a phobia of heights.

dithering daughter
mind off in all directions
embarrassing girl

Random words in front of other random words create a random sentence.

despite his sharp mind
he thought himself a failure
he could not fix her

I come from a tribe of head-hunters, so I will never need a shrink.


Write a "confession" poem.



I was also inspired by the D'Verse Poets Jisei prompt. However, I won't include this poem in the blog hop because these are not actually Jisei, and because I have 12 lines total rather than 10.

My father will be 10 years departed from the world on the 28th of this month. I had a strained relationship with him. On one hand, he loved me. On the other hand, I was a great source of disappointment and distress for him. The only way our relationship would not have been strained is if I had been someone else. He did not know how to deal with a girl who was not meek and compliant and who was terribly troubled--as it turns out, mostly because of trauma inflicted on me by other people rather than because of an organic anomaly in my brain, which is what I believed for many years.

For many years, I thought that I had type 2 bipolar disorder and "borderline personality disorder." It is my strong opinion at this point that I do not. I stopped taking Lithium last year and have experienced no extreme mood swings. I do have a tendency to depression and anxiety. I have ADHD. But the thing that led to my extreme mood expressions when I was younger was not bipolar disorder, it was complex PTSD.

I have come to the opinion that "borderline personality disorder" is a bullshit sexist diagnosis. This diagnosis is overwhelmingly applied to girls and women. Looking at the histories of women with this diagnosis, they have all been traumatized, often sexually, and their trauma has been belittled and minimized. 

I was not only bullied on a daily basis when I was growing up, but I was also sexually assaulted on more than one occasion. I came to realize that one event in particular that happened when I was 15 years old affected me much more than I allowed myself to believe it did. Looking back, I realize that I started acting out a lot following this event. If anyone cares to read my thoughts regarding this matter, they can be found here.

My father came from a different time with a different set of values, and he did not understand me, which is not to say that he didn't value me. He always helped me monetarily, but I always wished that he would actually hear me. As I got older, I tried to accept him as he was. I miss him and I hope he has found peace.

~cie~

This poem was posted to these places:




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



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Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Colors of a Life in Shadow (Choka/Senryu)

  

Free use image by Stefan Keller on Pixabay

I used to be nice
when all things were possible
bright colors of life

in the blue hotel
porcelain skin fades to gray
shades block out the light

I am seen as mean
when I refuse advances
predatory men

my heart draws the shade
against games that lead to naught
I protect myself

~cie~


write a nice and/or mean poem

https://godoggocafe.com/2020/11/17/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-november-17-2020/

https://dversepoets.com/

I used the Quadrille prompt from D'verse Poets, which was "Possibility." However, Quadrille poems are supposed to be 44 words. This poem is 53 words, and I didn't want to remove any of them because it would ruin the flow. So, I am saving it to share to the Weekly Scribblings prompt tomorrow instead. Now, that's using my noodle!

This poem was posted to these places:




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Want more cynical Chokas?
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Share my mood on LBRY.



LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.

Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.

You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.


Monday, November 16, 2020

A Response

  

Image from Mindlovemisery's Sunday Writing Prompt

you ask, how are you coping?
and I say, well, hell
do you want me to be honest with you?
truth is, most people don't want the truth

they want to hear I'm doing fine
then they can go about their day
it's all a load of crap, you know
a lot of people aren't fine
but nobody really cares

that's why I never play along
with those games where you're supposed to repost
the well-meaning words claiming that someone's always there to care
but how am I supposed to believe that's true
when no-one ever even "likes" what I do?

these people on social media who cry the blues
whenever their post gets less than a hundred likes
make me laugh because mine don't even get one
fuck 'em all, I don't care anyway

so excuse me for being cynical
but I don't think that those of you posting that you care so much
really do in anything more than a vaguely caring for humanity sort of way
you really don't know me anyway

you ask me how are you coping?
the answer is, not well
but did you ask the welfare agencies for help?
you know...
the ones that really don't give a flying fuck about your welfare?

best you should die and decrease the surplus population
but we can't say that out loud
so let's post some more platitudes
about how someone's always there and always cares
except nobody really is

you ask me how I'm coping
now you know
I'm f.i.n.e.

fucked up
insecure
not okay
exhausted

I'm about done
just want to call it quits
but there's still a long road ahead
dragging the corpse of my sense of adventure
along on my aching back

~cie~


Write a response poem
I wrote a response to the Sunday Writing Prompt

This poem was posted to these places:




The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


Creative Commons License


This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.

Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

Want more cynical free verse?
Get it here!

Share my mood on LBRY.



LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.

Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.

You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.


Tuesday, November 10, 2020

Still Too Easy To Be Hard (Triple Tanka)

  

Free use image by Alexas Fotos on Pixabay

people say they care
'bout evil and injustice
the truth is they lie
they only care for victims
who are precious in some way

those deemed unpretty
who don't look good on posters
the unwanted ones
are easily lambasted
by the ones who claim to care

I have never seen
those who claim to care so much
defend the homely
the fat, disfigured, homeless
only receive scorn

~cie~


note the notes
(high probability of becoming sweary)

The poem was, in part, inspired by lyrics of the 1969 song "Easy to be Hard" by Three Dog Night.

I had a go at Anderson Cooper after his "obese turtle" remark.

When he said that he regretted the comment, I wrote him a letter.

Anderson Cooper reasoned that he made the "obese turtle" comment in the heat of the moment. So you may think that would be my last words on the subject, but Bitches, I ain't done yet.

Anderson Cooper says that he doesn't want to be the person who made that comment, and I'll take his word for it. But I would like to ask Anderson and anyone else who has ever said something like this in the heat of the moment:

Why is your "go-to" insult in the heat of the moment a negative crack about someone's body, and why do you think that fat is the very worst thing that you can call a person?

Is it really okay to have size shaming as your default, or do you need to check yourself and ask yourself a few pertinent questions?

Why do you think that fat people deserve constant mocking and derision?

Do you think that it's doing them one damn bit of good?

Or is it possible that you learned this prejudice a long time ago and it's time to stop being horrible?

Fat jokes aren't funny.

Fat isn't the worst thing a person can be.

With every awful thing tRump has done, you're defaulting to "he's fat?"

Weak sauce!

Check yourself.



I rarely post pictures of myself for obvious reasons.
A bad selfie (there is no other kind) that I threw some Pixlr effects at.
So, let's run down the list.

  1. Old (Middle-aged, anyway)
  2. Fat
  3. Ugly
But guess what--still doesn't deserve to be bullied and ridiculed.

I live by the rule of no body-shaming.

Not even once.

Not even tRump.

I call people out when I see them body-shaming because bullying--yes, including the bullying of people you find unattractive--ruins lives.

"BuT tHeIr HeAlTh!!111!!!" is not an excuse.

You know damn good and well it's never about their health.

By the way, I really don't want to receive comments like "you're not THAT fat. Trust me, I am THAT fat. And even if I wasn't, is it okay to be horrible to people who are THAT fat?"

I don't want any "but you could lose weight if you tried" bullshit. The answer is no, I can't. I tried to hate myself thin for 33 years and it didn't work. I'm done trying to hate myself thin. And even if I could, is it really okay to be telling people to try and manipulate their bodies in an attempt to become what you consider acceptable?

Please spare me the "you have a pretty face" comments. The secondary implication with those is "it's too bad about your disgustingly fat body."

I don't really want any comments about my looks, because my looks don't matter. I'm not fishing for compliments. I want people to hear my words.

Nobody deserves to be bullied for their appearance.

Not even the bullies.

Don't stoop to their level.

Fat bitch out.


The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


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