Letting My Hair Down

My hair is driving me crazy. Last autumn, in a fit of stupidity that I regret every day, I chopped off my longish hair (it was just barely below my shoulders) to chin-length.

[caption id="attachment_1021" align="aligncenter" width="120"] Before[/caption]

And a month or so after that, I cut it even shorter.

[caption id="attachment_1005" align="aligncenter" width="300"] After, part 1[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1003" align="aligncenter" width="300"] After, Part 2[/caption]

 

I must have been out of my mind. I hate having short hair. I think I look like a fat lesbian (not really the look I was going for, not that there's anything wrong with fat lesbians.).  Still, I've had my hair many lengths over the years, from all the way down my back to ear-length. My first big hair-cut was at age 12, when I went to the mall one day with some girlfriends, and on the spur-of-the-moment, cut it to my shoulders. Photos of me from junior high show a hair tragedy (and that;s saying something, since it was the '80's!), and in high school, it was only marginally better.

[caption id="attachment_1009" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Rhonda & Shelley both rocked the 80's big hair (this was a small-hair day), but mine just looked...nice.[/caption]

In college, I let it grow out, and was happy with it.

[caption id="attachment_1023" align="aligncenter" width="300"] I loved my hair this length. And the curls were fab![/caption]

I kept letting it grow. I had long hair for my wedding, even though the style I chose was awful!

[caption id="attachment_1025" align="aligncenter" width="218"] Long hair, but NO style![/caption]

Longer for the next few years, as well.







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I cut it this short, I'm still trying to figure out. I remember complaining about not being able to do anything with it, being tired of endless ponytails, but I know it was better than it is now. So one of my summer projects is to grow my hair. (Another is to clean my room, but I think my hair will be long again before that happens!) I've researched (meaning: looked at stuff on Pinterest) ways to grow hair fast, and I'm trying some out. Scalp massage, Biotin, and a type of bergamot oil are all on the list. Wish me luck. Hair shouldn't be a tragedy! 

 

 

There's A Word for That?

Migraineur:

mi·grain·eur

mēgrəˈnər,ˌmīgrā-/

noun

 someone who suffers from migraine headaches.

Earlier this week, I was doing some research online, trying to see if there was a connection between the two glasses of pseudo-Crystal Light I'd been having now that the weather is warming up and the massive migraines I'd been having, when I learned some nifty things. Such as the word migraineur. Makes sense that there's a word for people like me, but it had never occurred to me.

Reading about triggers was rather enlightening as well. I wasn't all that surprised to learn that artificial sweeteners are a big migraine trigger, since they cause all sorts of problems. I try to avoid them, preferring natural sugar, really I do. But for some reason, every summer, I go through this diet drink frenzy where I consume Crystal Light, or the fake store brand equivalent, in all it's many flavors. No more of that for me. I'd rather be fat than in pain. Sugar is a trigger for many people, but I have to consume a huge amount before it gives me a headache; same with caffeine. Alcohol, on the other hand, give me pain within an hour or two of my first cocktail. No big deal, since I've never been a big drinker. Some of the other common food triggers are chocolate, cheese (hard or fermented), processed meats, and gluten. To the best of my knowledge, none of these are triggers for me. Good thing, too, because I don't want to give up chocolate. Life is hard enough. Other triggers include weather changes, bright lights or loud noises, perfumes, lack of sleep, stress, missing meals, dehydration, hormonal changes, and crying. Yep, one reason I avoid the cosmetics counter at department stores. Those perfume samples are killers. Same as the laundry detergent aisle in the grocery store. First I sneeze, then I get a headache. No fun.

Here's what really came as a surprise to me, however. In an article called 'What's Your Strangest Migraine Symptom?' I learned that several things that have been happening to me for years are likely migraine-related. And here, I thought I was just crazy. Or had a brain tumor.

One of these symptoms, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome, is a disorder that causes a person to believe that body parts (and in some cases their environment), are changing shape or size. For me, it usually means that I feel as if one hand is growing larger and larger, as if it's a huge clown glove, filled with air. It never lasted very long, but felt as if it did. Once, when a migraine was so bad I had to go to the ER for treatment, this happened after they gave me the fun shot; that time, I felt as if my ears were getting bigger and bigger.

The first time I remember this happening I was eleven-years-old. I had been reading in the afternoon during summer break, and suddenly, my right thumb began to grow. It didn't last long, or get very big, and I don't remember if a headache followed it, but I do remember being totally freaked out. Until recently, I never told anyone about it.

When I was in junior high, I read Stephen King's 'The Dead Zone' for the first time, and one thing from that book has stuck with me ever since. The neurologist asks Johnny if he ever smells anything unusual, like rotting oranges, or feces, when there is nothing there; apparently this  a sign of a brain tumor. Well, it turns out these types of sensory hallucinations are also a migraine symptom, one I've had often. I was pretty sure I didn't have a brain tumor, because I've had my fair share of MRI's & CT scans, thanks to the epilepsy, but thanks to Mr. King, I was always scared. Now, I don't need to.

I do wish that one of the neurologists I've seen over the years had pointed some of this stuff out. I'm especially cheesed that the migraine specialist I've been seeing for the last year never mentioned any of this. I appreciate that there are all these online communities, but shouldn't a doctor have said something?!

I'm sure there's a word for how I feel.

It's Not Hoarding if They're eBooks, Right?

If Hoarders ever decides to do a show on people who have too many books, they'd over look me, because, really, my library of "real" books isn't that big. Comparatively speaking, that is. Not nearly big enough to land me a spot on a show like that. My ebook library, on the other hand, is getting out of control.

I'm fairly sure that I have at least 150 unread books on my Kindle app. Then there are the ones on Aldiko, Google Books, Moon+Reader, and  OverDrive. We won't even mention the dozens of fanfiction books/stories lurking about my tablet, or the audiobook waiting to be listened to. And I'm not counting the things I HAVE read. 
Except for those things I've read before in a paper version, all of these are new to me. I'm addicted to free book sites, and some days, spend more time searching out free things to download than I do reading. It's distressing. 

 

Now, this is not to say I don't read at all, because we all know that isn't true. I'm halfway through an odd book called Ketchup Clouds by Annabel Pitcher.



 

It's a YA novel about a teen girl writing to a man on death row, and confessing all her dark secrets to him. Twisted. Just my style.

 

 

 

Blood and Poetry

I went to college. Actually, I went to several colleges, and changed my major several times before I finally finished, but that's totally not the point. The BA I finally ended up with is in English:Creative Writing:Poetry, with a minor in Theater. Yes, that's a degree that will get you a job in any field!

I always enjoyed poetry, although I'm still not sure why I chose to major in it. I'm more of a reader than a writer, in spite of the many aspirations my mother has for me. I did put together a collection (a "thesis" if you will) for my final project, and gave many readings for classes. That part I was good at; I'd never had a problem being in front of others. But over the years I've written less and less, and I miss it. In an effort to get back in the groove, so to speak, I dug up as many of my old poems as I could find. Aren't you lucky--I'm going to post some of them! (Be afraid, be very afraid!)

Before we get to today's poem, can someone explain to me why, when I am feeling low, watching a show like Dexter, or reading a Jonathan Kellerman novel, full of blood and mayhem, monsters and murder, makes me feel so much better? It can't just be me, or these things wouldn't be as popular as they are, right? I've spent the last two days watching Dexter on Netflix, while doing all the other things I need to do. And yes, I suddenly feel so much more normal. Really, compared to most of the characters on this show, I'm a paragon of mental health. Good to know.

And now for the literary portion of today's post! One of my favorites. Enjoy.

 

Wilhelmina

In a hypothetical world,

I am a bimbo goddess of poetry,

Enshrined in my coffeehouse castle,

my words the songs of a generation.

Attended by sugary seraphim upon my beachside throne,

my name resonates on the tongues of cappuccino demigods.

He, bespectacled, brilliant, falls at my feet,

quoting darkly my childlines.

As gilded graces join us in our dance,

we whirl through a city of stars into

our moonpalace home.

Fall through velvet loveclouds into beds of miracles.

Strongly carefree of wings or wheels,

tasting of copper and chocolate,

a literary, bad-­tempered love of scarlet phrases in my head.

He whispers, solemn:

“God has spoken, and he sounds like Elvis.”

Fear of the Unknown

If I were a Harry Potter character, I'm fairly sure the Sorting Hat would not have placed me in Gryffindor, simply because I'm not really a brave person. Yes, at times in my life, I've been able to stand up in front of the crowd, singing or acting, and I was, for a long time, very good at making new friends. Not so much any more. The last few years of my life have left me a very different person, and so many things scare me these days. It's difficult to be in crowds, and the idea of having to talk to too many people I don't know is terrifying.  I've had panic attacks in public places, including the local Fred Myer, where I wound up crying in the manager's office. These events had been getting farther between, until recently, when certain things began making me very nervous.

If you've been reading this for long, you know I share a home with my extended family: my parents, who are 78 and 83; my younger sister and her two children, who are 10 and 20; plus two cats and a dog. During the last year my father lost his job, and hasn't been able to find another one; he has also begun showing signs of dementia, which is difficult for all of us. Mom hasn't worked outside the home in years; they have some Social Security coming in, but no savings. My sister hasn't had a steady job in over a year, just temp things, and my while my niece has a full-time job, she doesn't help out much. Hence, the only real income in the household now are my SSI/SSD checks every month, and Mom & Dad's Social Security. Not a lot for all these people to live on. Jolene & I both get food stamps, which helps, and for now, all of our medical expanses are taken care of. The big issue is the house payment; we cannot afford this house.

When I moved back in here two years ago, my goal was to stay a few months and then get a place of my own. But things went downhill very fast; I sank into depression after the breakup and Michele's death, and still haven't fully recovered. It was easier to hide in this room than get on with my life. But now, I don't have a choice, and this scares me. My parents are talking about selling the house, and this means we'll all have to move. Sure, they've been talking about selling for years, but this time they're actually doing things to put it in motion. Getting the basement presentable. Talking to realtors. Getting rid of things. And scaring the hell out of me.

My tiny room is full of stuff, and I have dozens of boxes in the garage. Every few days I'm encouraged to begin sorting, getting rid of things, both so the place will look better for prospective buyers, and so it will be easier to move. Jolene has done a bit of this in, but I've yet to begin, even though I've nothing but time on my hands.

At first I thought I was just procrastinating, as usual, being my normal lazy self.  I've had several conversations about where I'd go when the house sold with different people. Jolene proposed we get an RV, put Max in online school, and tour the country. I've discussed getting an apartment with my ex-husband and friend, Charlie (we get along well, and he's easy to live with), but it's never gone farther than discussion.  But recently I realized that I honestly have no idea what is going to happen to any of us, and this is nerve-wracking.  Some part of me believes if I don't do anything, the unknown will stay far, far in the future, and I won't have to think about it. Denial is my favorite river, and I swim deep in it.



Talking about things helps, so they say. I've discussed this fear with Jolene, and Mom, and now you. Let's hope it helps, because I cannot continue doing nothing, as much as I might like to. Getting past the fear is going to be hard. I may have to channel my inner Steel Magnolia and remember "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

A Few Reccomendations

I promised some fanfiction recommendations, and here they are. I've read so many, but these are just a few that I truly liked. I'll add more later. All of these are in the Harry Potter universe, and are mostly Drarry stories. I confess, I do like those slash stories!



 

Jonna's HP FanFic Recs, Part One

 

The Bound Prince series by slash perv and sayingsorry_hh                                       (7 volumes, Harry/Draco, ADULT)

This seven volume series is extremely well written, and is available on slash perv’s website as a free pdf download. Beginning with that pivotal moment in Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince where Harry finds Draco crying in the bathroom; in this version, instead of hexing each other, they kiss, and from there, things escalate. Serious m/m slash, with lots of explicit sex: really, in nearly every chapter after the first couple, Harry & Draco are shagging, sometimes on a life-or-death basis. Some of the best long reads out there.

 

A British Summer by Omi_Ohmy                                                                                (One Shot, Harry/Draco, Explicit, Smut)

Ice cream.  After the war, and a very public breakup with Ginny, Harry has become a recluse. Draco is surprised when he runs into him scooping ice cream in a Muggle town on a summer afternoon.  I love ice cream (and sorbet, and gelato, and frozen yogurt...) and this story called out to me. It is yummy--but be warned, it’ll have you craving a frozen treat!

 

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime                                                                             (Draco/Harry, one shot, angst)

This is not a happy little fic, but it speaks to me.  Draco suffers seizures as an after-effect of something that happened during the war (we never find out what), and Harry helps him to find ways to cope. Turns out the war left Harry with some physical issues of his own. I am epileptic, and I seldom read anything that talks about seizures, simply because most writers cannot get the way seizure disorders affect a person right. This author does a spot-on job of describing both Draco’s seizures themselves (from his POV), and the way he feels after; I especially like the way the author describes his aura:

“Everything is the colour of plums, so dark and so opaque that Draco doesn't know what happens next. He could be falling. He could be standing. He could be breaking his nose on the floor right this instant, this eternity, and bleeding over Harry's floorboards—”

 

Not Only Fine Feathersby fantasyfruitbat                                                                 (Harry/Draco NC-17, one-shot, veela!)

I confess to a liking for veela fics, and this is a bit different from most. After the war, a mistreated, caged and feral veela is discovered in a Death Eater safe house, and will only respond to Harry. Of course, this veela turns out to Draco. The Ministry wants to put him down, but Harry fights to save him.

 

Checkmate by Naadi                                                                                           (Harry/Draco, romance/angst)

Set during their seventh year at Hogwarts, this is a multi-chapter fiction that is canon through Goblet of Fire. Draco challenges Harry to a game of dare chess, and throughout the fiction, an actual game of chess is played. But is his ultimate goal love or betrayal?

This is a very popular fic, and even won some awards. The fan art for it is numerous, and includes a Lego version of one chapter, linked here.

 

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum  by lettered                                                            (Harry/Draco, one-shot, explicit)

The warning on this story states “This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.” And it’s the truth. When Draco spikes the wine with veritaserum, he and his husband Harry begin a conversation about their sexual fantasies and desires. This gets rather explicit, and hot. Hey, they aren’t all love stories, folks.

 

And An Owl Named Romeo by Rickey                                                                   (Draco/Harry, romance)

Draco breeds owls, Harry is an Auror, and an owl brings them together. The characterization in this love story is wonderful, and so is the romance!

 

Nothing Like The Sun by Lomonaaeren                                                            (Harry/Draco, angst/romance, NC-17)

Don’t go into this one expecting happy happy joy joy. In this story, Harry has been convinced by his past lovers that not only is he too ugly and lousy at sex to keep a wizard lover. He tries to get better, and compromises by wearing glamours, and finally, deciding to be content with one-night-stands with Muggles. Then along comes Draco, who messes everything up by wanting a relationship. This was a difficult story to read--Harry’s pain is palpable. But stick with it. It’s worth it.

 

It’s My Life by Fyreheart                                                                                                   (Harry, AU)

This is an alternate universe fiction, and one of the best I’ve read. After his second year at Hogwarts, Harry realizes that things aren’t quite what they should be, and he decides to change them. He does this by becoming pro-active in his life, and making huge changes--including leaving Hogwarts, and England. It’s an interesting idea, exploring “what if?”

Save Your Fanfiction!

I'm working on a list of some of my favorite fan-fics to share with you. There is so much out there... But first, I wanted to share these links with you. I read both on my laptop and on my tablet (a nifty Samsung Galaxy, which I love!) using various e-reader apps. Scrolling on the laptop just gets to be a bit much, ya know? Plus, it's much easier to read from the tablet in bed! So I went looking for ways to download various fics so I can read them elsewhere.  Archive Of Our Own, has a built in download feature on stories, allowing you to choose between formats (mobi, which is for Kindle; epbub, pdf or html); most of the other sites don't offer this feature, which is a shame, since it's very efficient. Hence, the search for ways to save.

Since a large portion of fan-fiction is archived/posted on Fanfiction.net, finding a way to download those stories was tantamount. (FFN does have a mobile version, but it tends to be too small for me to read.) The site I found, which works most of the time, is Ficsave. It's dedicated only to FFN, but has issues. When it works, it's great. As with many of these sites, you simply enter the link of the work you want to download, choose your format, and save.

A better choice for FFN, as well as several other sites is StoryMaster, which works quite well for FFN, Adult Fan Fiction, and a few other sites, is a bit different, in that your result is emailed to you, and then you can download it. The results here are always well done; I've not been disappointed yet. I only wish it worked for more sites,

FanFiction Downlaoder has an extensive list of supported sites, including AOO, The Hex Files, FFN, Literotica, Fiction Press, and Trek Universe. As with many others, it will not work on stories from LiveJournal.

Squee!book is a site which supposedly turns a website into something more along the lines of an actual book. You have to load each chapters link of multi-part stories (from some sites) one by one, which is a huge pain in the ass.  And there are still some large bugs, not least of which is the fact that even after loading all of those, they don't always transfer, and your work is for naught. However, on some sites, it works perfectly well; user be warned.

Online-Convert is a multi-use site, which offers file conversion of all types. Audio, video, image, document, and ebook. I use the ebook converter all the time. It is especially handy for those Live Journal stories, when my only option is to cut and paste. A pdf document is quickly converted into a mobi or epub file, or vice versa.

I've also used an app called dotEpub, a software that allows you to convert any webpage to an epub with one click. Unfortunately, it does not work with LiveJournal.

All of these are free sites, although a few offer upgrades. Good luck!

Dancing Fools

 

No reason for this post, really, other than these make giggle. I've come across several gifs lately that I quite enjoy, and decided to share.



There are dozens of these "single ladies" out there, and I wanted to share a couple with you all.   

Everybody dance now!

 

Okay, this image of dancing Harry Potter is one of my favorites. I wished there was also a Draco to go with it, and then discovered there is an entire video, called Dance Dance Potter Revolution! Makes me happy in such a stupid way.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jc5M3HlihSg

Because I'm obsessive, I spent several hours (read: DAYS) looking at gifs, and even found websites where I could make my own, so of course I did.  (I have nothing but time on my hands, people.)

Twist like Travolta, baby.



Some Like It Hot is my all-time favorite movie, and this tango is awesome.


 

I hope these guys are dancing together in heaven!

 

Carlton rocks. 

As does Cap'n Tightpants. 

He's The Doctor. Of course he can dance!



 

Still one of the best movies ever. 

Johnny Bravo and PeeWee have more in common than we knew. 

Go, Farmer Ted. He blows my mind. 

 

There's an entire Tumblr dedicated to Chandler dancing on things, but this is better. 

 

Mr Noodle, and his brother, Mr Noodle, from Sesame Street. They groove, man. 

And because I am obsessive, and because I found a way to make my own gifs, I give you  Dance Dance Draco!



 

Enjoy my silliness.

 

Beaches and Beds

Yeah, that title sounds like this is gonna be a dirty post, but really, it's not.

I've spent 65% of the last week in bed. Sleeping, I mean. For some reason, I'm incredibly tired lately. Amanda would tell me that I'm depressed, Lori would say I'm still getting over whatever made me so sick, and my Mom, well, she said "You've become lazy." Which made my sister and I laugh, because I've always been lazy. Lazy is not a new thing for me! I've fallen asleep all over the place this week, though. I went in to talk to Max, fell asleep on his bed, and woke up when he started hollering at the video game he was playing. I sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, started snoozing. Fell asleep in my chair at least once a day. And yesterday, I swear, I fell asleep in the shower. Weird. I like my bed best. It's squeaky, and tall, but comfy and I sleep better there than anywhere else.

"Beaches" is on television as I write this, and Barbra Hershey just died, so I'm typing and crying at the same time. I saw this movie the first time with Michele, and we both cried then. I read the book at some point, too; this is one of the times where the movie is better than the book. The story of childhood friends growing up together, and the death of one feels especially poignant to me these days, as I miss Michele. The anniversary of her passing was earlier this month, and I'd intended to write a big sentimental post about her, and our friendship. I just couldn't do it. Something inside me wanted to keep that day personal to me. So I lit a candle, said a prayer, and looked at pictures.

The songs that make me think of Shel are not those in the soundtrack to "Beaches,' no disrespect to Miss M. Michele and I danced to Copacabana, sang along to every stupid 80's tune, and tunes from The Pirate Movie. And this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyTpu6BmE88

 

This song still makes me cry.

 

The Stupid Burns

Ugh.

It's been a rough week. I went to see a new primary care doctor just over a week ago, and really liked him. He addressed the issues that the doctor I was leaving refused to look at-- insomnia & RLS-- and was nice on the eyes. Plus, he did not once tell me I'd sleep better if I got more exercise, or tell me I need to lose weight. He gave me some new meds, and increased the dosage on my RLS med. I was happy.

The problems began the next day. I wasn't sure if I'd picked up a stomach bug, or if I was having a reaction to on of the meds, but I felt horrible. Stomach cramps, pain, the whole nine yards. By Thursday, I was begging my sister to kill me, but she refused, damn her.

Over the weekend, I went back to the lower dose of the RLS meds, and suddenly *** angels singing *** I was better! Last night, I took the higher dose, and this morning, I'm dying again. UGH.

So, I've now spent all this time being absolutely miserable for no reason whatsoever. Could have fixed it at any time. Not only am I in pain, but I'm too stupid to figure out why.



 

If I'd only known...

Wow. If I'd known that my simple little post on fan-fiction would get me nearly 50 comments or followers in 24 hours, I'd have written it sooner!

Honestly, I was hesitant to post anything about my lurve of ff, since people either seems to understand & agree, or make fun of it. My sister (who is her own type of geek, being addicted to any television show about aliens, Bigfoot, or alien Sasquatch), thinks I've lost my mind, and does not hesitate to laugh at me. Although I imagine she'd be thrilled if I gave her some X-Files or Supernatural stories. Hmmm...I wonder if there's Bigfoot fan-fiction?

Anyway, thanks for the love, folks, and I'll continue to post. I'm putting together a list of some of my favorites, to share the luv.

Fan-fiction Has Stolen My Brain

I am not sure exactly when, but sometime before Christmas, I began reading Harry Potter fan-fiction online. Primarily, Drarry  and other slash fictions. And I've not stopped since. My brain, my life, my time, has been taken over... 

I hear some of you asking "WTH is she talking about? Slash? Drarry?" In fandom terms, Slash is "a type of fic, often written by women, involving romantic or sexual involvement between two characters of the same gender. The term originates from early Star Trek fandom, namely "Kirk/Spock" stories -- the term "slash" comes from the slash (/) placed between the names of the characters involved".  Drarry is the pairing of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, combining their names.

What, exactly is the point of all of this? I have no idea. As I said, my brain has been invaded, stolen, by fan-fics. I'm alternately deeply enthralled by wonderful writing and great stories, some with truly excellent sex scenes, and highly annoyed by poor grammar, atrocious spelling and the worst romances I've seen. And I have read some bad romance novels in my time, people.

What amazes me each time I go onto FanFiction.net or Archive Of Our Own to look for new stories is how many are out there. How many people are writing about the things they love, creating worlds where the characters they love do all sorts of things. Where Sherlock and The Doctor have tea, or The Monkees hang out with Mozart. Worlds where the cast of Harry Potter interacts with the Twilight gang, or Sookie & Eric are running away from Buffy. True, some of the stories are awful, but that's a risk you take when reading anything new. And I'm having fun. Isn't that what matters?

Besides, I kinda like the idea of Sherlock & The Doctor being friends. Makes perfect sense to me...

 

An Anniversary

It's been two years this week since I escaped. That sounds dramatic, as if I busted out of Alcatraz, or fled a Soviet Bloc nation or something, but it's how I feel. In March of 2012 I was living in Vancouver with S., although it didn't seem like living, really. The walls were closing in; isolation, pain, fear, and anger were my constant companions.

This week I heard from yet another family member how glad they are that I didn't marry S., because they really didn't like him, or the way he treated me. While I agree wholeheartedly with this, I do wish that these people had said something then, rather than waiting. I've made my sister, Jolene, swear to me that, on the off-chance I ever date again, she'll be honest about any of my beaus she might meet.

It would be easy to blame everything that went wrong on S, and I'd be happy to do that. But I won't. It was my fault, too, because I am a woman with a brain, and I made the decisions to move in with him, to stay for much too long, and to let him get away with way too much. For that, I blame myself. Looking back, I am astounded at my own actions. I've never allowed anyone to boss me around, yet somehow I willingly let him control so much of my life without even questioning. From how much money I could spend (which makes no sense, because it was MY money we were living on), to when we visited my family, to even my clothing choices sometimes. A few other things that I will never speak of to anyone, other than to say I'd like to kick his ass from here to Texas and back every time I think about them.

One of the most annoying things he did was taking me to the grocery store with a huge list, and then staying in the car, and telling me I had twenty minutes to get everything done. Ever tried to get through Costco in 20 minutes? Not possible. He left once, leaving me stranded in the parking lot for nearly an hour before he decided to come back and get me. And he expected me to apologize for not being on time.

You have to realize, I was trapped. I don't drive, and bus service in Vancouver sucks, so I was dependent on him for transportation. If I wanted to go to the library, or just get out of the house, I needed him. And he liked it that way. The only reasons I ever walked the dog were because she & I both needed to get out of that teeny tiny apartment, get some freedom. Even after she pulled me down the stairs, and nearly dislocated my arm, I still walked her. She was his dog, and yet I walked her every day, because he wouldn't. Stupid man, and dumb dog.

He is still the only person to ever make me feel stupid, simply by the way he talked down to me. That probably makes me angrier than anything else. If there is one thing I know about myself, it is this: I am NOT a stupid person. There are areas I know very little about, or don't do well in (maths, or sports, and I'm not great at technology), but I am a pretty smart girl. Two college degrees to my name, and I've read at least two books a week since I was old enough to hold a book (talking big books, here). So when he, who never actually reads, tried to tell me things, like what "Lord of The Rings" is about, or how the Baz Luhrmann movie version of Romeo and Juliet is better than Shakespeare's version, I wanted to scream. And when he began "writing," telling me he was going to be the next J K Rowling, I was stunned. Then livid, because he basically just stole ideas from movies and television shows he's seen, stuck them together and believes he's a great writer. One whose never read any of the novels he's stealing. But try telling him that.

The last straw for me came two years ago this week. We'd been fighting all the time. I was stressed, knowing that in Toronto, Michele was in hospital, and was unlikely to come out. One morning, I spoke to her mother on the phone, and after, was sitting on the sofa, cradling my cup of coffee, trying not to cry, when he looked at me and said "What is wrong with you?" He'd heard the entire conversation, so he knew; but I answered him, telling him I was sad. He glared at me. Then, he rose and walked past me, and smacked the bottom of my coffee cup, just as I'd put it to my mouth. The rim hit my front tooth, chipping it, and cup my lip. I looked up at him, bleeding, covered in spilled coffee, and he just grinned at me and walked away. I was done. Called my sister to come and get me, packed a bag, and left. I've never been sorry.

Now, two years later, I'm here, in my parents house, and while I may not have the grand life I'd like, I'm not scared, or angry. Yes, I'm a bit isolated, but that is something I am working on fixing. I am aware of the fact that he denies all of these things; as far as he is concerned, he was an angel, and I destroyed his life. Whatever.

Freedom comes at a price. I've spent the last two years battling fear, depression, and anxiety, not to mention heartache and anger. I'm still not sure I'll ever be able to trust any man again, or if I even want to try. Emotions, at least those involved in relationships, don't come easily to me anymore. My scars run deep, and may never be healed. And dammit, I have a chipped tooth, too. But freedom is still sweet. Happy anniversary to me.

Winter Wonderland

Boy, am I glad I don't have to go anywhere this weekend! Snow fell on the Rose City starting Thursday, and by the time I'm writing this, Saturday afternoon, we're living in a winter wonderland. And in a city where nobody knows how to drive in snow, that is not really a good thing.

Max is thrilled! Snow days are always a blessing when you're ten! He's been outside everyday, and has had a blast. The dog is enjoying it, as well. The rest of us, well, we're all just glad we get to stay home and enjoy the view from the window. After growing up in Colorado, I've seen enough snow for my entire life. But it is pretty.

I will say this: falling snow makes me wish I had someone to cuddle up with. It inspires romantic visions in me. Ah, well.

Talk Nerdy To Me

Let's talk about nerd-dom. My nerdiness. It's my blog, nobody reads it but me, I'll talk about what I want, and you can't do a thing to stop me, nyah-nyah-nyah. I can write all about how I spend way too much time reading Drarry fanfiction, or watching Glee (or listening to music from Glee while reading Drarry stories--that's the best!), and nobody would care! Ah, the joys of the internet.

But first, I must point out that I am not a geek, or a dork. A geek is smart enough to create and fix things like computers, etc., and I am not. A dork doesn't really get anything. A nerd both understands and is into really cool stuff. That's me.

Yes, I do enjoy Harry Potter fanfiction, and I do not care if you think that makes me a nerd, because I embraced my nerdiness way back in Junior High when I sang a Barry Manilow song in front of the entire school. Yes, I am THAT big a nerd. I am a Barry Manilow-loving, Doctor Who-watching, Firefly-missing, Sherlock-worshipping, fanfiction-reading, nerd. And I am damn proud of it. In some respects, I guess this makes me a hipster, because I was dorky long before it was cool, and I was happy being this way. I've never really wanted to be anything but who I am.

In high school, I had good friends, and while we weren't the popular crowd, we got along with everyone, and we had a ton of fun. We were primarily choir and theater geeks, and most of us made good grades as well. At the time I thought we were all staying away from drugs and alcohol, although I know now that wasn't true for all of us; either way, we had a lot of fun just being totally stupid, as teenagers tend to do. I never remember wanting to be any "cooler" than we were; I thought we were fabulous then, and I still do. Mostly. Except for the friend I've since discovered was stoned pretty much since eighth grade. That just pisses me off, although it does explain a bit about him.

In college, it was pretty much the same. Weird friends, just older. Different states, different things, and eventually, a bit of that alcohol. Either way, we were all some kind of misfit toy, and it worked.

Anyway. All these years later, even with Michele gone, I am still listening to Barry, still spending most of my Friday nights watching bad movies and occasionally eating pizza. Not the same movie anymore, thank god. And nobody will let me get Hawaiian pizza anymore, which is okay, since I've had my fill.

I'm still a nerd. If I had friends nearby, I'm sure we'd be sitting around a coffee shop somewhere, laughing until one of us spit coffee out our nose. Heaven for me will involve lots of time in cozy cafes with Michele, Elissa, Louis, Doug, Andy, Demere, Marina, Christopher, Lori & Don, Marty, Eric, Kathy, Karen, Leslie, Kenny, Wes, Teri, Monica, Fay, and so many more. Lots of time just being nerdy with the friends I love.

This Song Says It.

A few days ago my friend Tara K. posted a link to a video of Robert Downey Jr singing with Sting, and since I adore RDJ, and quite like Sting, I watched the video, and then viewed several more. I had already been aware that RDJ could sing, having seen him in movies like 'The Singing Detective,' and in that episode of Ally McBeal (ick) where he sang with (oh, yeah) Sting! What I didn't know is that he'd recorded an album, which is pretty good. But this isn't really about that.

It's about this.



This video is the first thing Rob did after he got himself out of trouble, back on the straight and narrow, clean & sober, etc. The song, by Elton John, was never very popular, but, it speaks to me. Says everything I've been feeling. I hate when that happens.

"A man like me is dead in places other men feel liberated...but I want love." Yeah. That's it, all over. There are parts of me I cannot feel anymore, things I'm not sure I'll ever be able to feel again. My heart seems to be so hard that I'm not sure that anything can get through, or if I want it to. Too much pain. Too many scars, and why would I want more, yeah? Yet, I am craving something that will actually make me feel something, anything. I'd take pain over this nothing all the time.

 

Still the Queen

I hadn't realized I'd not posted since October. I am indeed, still the Queen of Procrastination. I thought I'd lost the title, but clearly, my reign is still going strong in this brand new year...  A new year. 2014. Wow. I'll be forty-six this in less than three months. I've been out of high school for twenty-seven years. Yet I don't actually feel all that different than I did 27 years ago, deep down inside, where it counts, anyway. The Queen has been around much longer than 27 years, I can promise you that. And I'm sure if I look in the right places, or ask my mother, there are things still undone from way back then, things I'm still putting off. Like growing up. Getting a life.

That sounds much more depressed than I intended it to, because really, I am not in a bad place right now. Other than not being thrilled with my too-short haircut. Which is entirely my fault, since I should never ever EVER be allowed to attempt to cut my own hair, no matter how annoyed I am with it! The fact that for the next month I will be forced to look like a fat KD Lang impersonator is going to remind me of that, I hope. Learn from my mistakes--a good thing to do this year, right?

If I can pry myself away from the fanfiction I've been lost in for the last month, I'll be able to get on with life, but then again, maybe I won;t bother. Perhaps I'll just become a middle-aged fangirl, and try my hand at writing my own fanfic. At least I can spell...

 

Ah, For the days of Pirates!

I've recently realized my high school friends were very very nice. They spent a good chunk of time at my house on weekends, watching truly stupid movies that I chose, and made them watch, and I don't remember anyone ever complaining. Of course, if they did, I probably just ignored them I am kind of a bitch that way. I knew that my friends were great back then (duh, they wouldn't have been my friends if they weren't!) but until last Friday night, I didn't realize the extent.

That's the night I watched 'The Pirate Movie' for the first time since 1987.

'The Pirate Movie', made in 1982,, stars Kristy McNichol and Christopher Atkins as a pair of star-struck young lovers who find each other in her pirate-themed dream. It is, of course a musical, which is one of the reasons I love it. An introverted girl who yearns for popularity (Kristy McNichol) attends a pirate festival in her seaside community, featuring a swordplay demo led by a curly haired hunk (Christopher Atkins). After selecting Mabel (McNichol) to participate in the act, the instructor invites her aboard his boat for a real ride on the high seas -- at which point a gaggle of her catty acquaintances latches on for the trip. Sent to get hamburgers for the outing, Mabel is "accidentally" left behind when one of her "friends" pulls the anchor prematurely. Determined not only to fit in, but to track down her dream guy, Mabel steers a tiny sailboat into stormy waters in pursuit, and gets shipwrecked. Thus begins a fantasy in which the unconscious Mabel imagines herself in a real pirate adventure, complete with her dashing pirate hero, a legion of his crusty shipmates, and dozens of unwed sisters who must rise to the altar before she can. The fantasy mixes film parodies, love songs, animation, and the score of Gilbert & Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, whose structure it roughly follows. It it over the top, campy, and totally goofy. Rotten Tomatoes gave it one star, and while it failed at the box office, it's developed quite a cult following.

In my home town, I believe we were the only people who ever rented the lone VHS copy the little rental place near my house had. After about a year, the owner finally offered to just give it to me, since I'd rented it almost every week, and I was delighted. I lost that copy in a move several years ago, and have regretted it ever since. When I visited Michele that last time, we talked about this movie, and laughed about how many of the cheezy songs we still remembered; I wish I'd had a copy so we could have watched it together one last time.

Last Friday night, I wasn't feeling well, coming down with a cold, and I was looking for a recipe on YouTube, which somehow led me to a bunch of full movies. Among them was my old friend, 'The Pirate Movie' and I watched the entire thing right then! I still know all the words, and it was still as cheezy. Christopher Atkins is still as cute, the pirates are still spouting double entendres, (Mabel: You'll be hung! The Pirate King: Oh I am, I am, and very well thank you.), the cops are still silly, and I still miss my old friends.

Give me a happy ending.

 



 

 

Doctors and Medications and Meth: Oh My!

So, last week I wrote about my never-ending headache, and the huge pain. Then I went to visit the migraine clinic at Providence St Vincent's Hospital. Jolene went with me, and we met with the PA, a young, well-dressed woman named Virginia Whitney. She asked lots of questions about family history, triggers, medical history, etc., and then did a short neurological exam. I've been doing those exams at least twice a year since I was 15, and joke that if I ever needed to pass a drunk driving test, I'd have the routine down pat. The exam is pretty much the same: follow my finger with your eyes, touch your finger to my finger then to your nose, now the other finger, walk heel to toe, stand on your tip-toes, stand with arms outstretched, grip one of the doctor's fingers as hard as you can with each hand. All these test balance, motor function, hand-eye coordination, and I'm sure a host of other things I've never asked about. Next time, I'll ask.

The only part I never do well on is the balance beam section: I have trouble walking heel to toe, and always have. This time I also discovered that I can stand on my tip toes on both feet together, but cannot walk on them; my right foot just crumples, and I walk like Catherine O'Hara in this scene in "Best In Show."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3io93ee0GTY

Yeah. Fun. Love that movie, but not the walk.

Anyway. I came away from the appointment with a plan of action, and a bunch of new meds. Keep a headache journal, take no imitrex (my go-to pain med, and the only one I actually have) for 10 days, start on a round of anti-inflammatory steroids, start a new med that was supposed to stop the headache, and no more caffeine. Yeah. No coffee, tea, Pepsi, or even chocolate. Yikes!

Well, I haven't completely stuck to these rules. First off, on Sunday, my head hurt so bad that I took an imitrex. But I have been abiding my the no caffeine rule, and I'm kinda proud of myself. Hasn't been as difficult as I thought. The steroids really killed the pain in my neck, which has made life a lot easier; being able to turn my head is a blessing! However, the med they gave me to take daily for the headache, a medication usually given for blood pressure called Verapamil, has been a pain. I took my first dose Saturday night (the instructions were twice a day), and within an hour, I was itchy. I didn't immediately connect the itchiness and the Verapamil; in fact, it took me until Tuesday to do so. In those few days it got worse; after each dose, I'd begin itching like crazy, first in a small spot on my arms or neck, then on my belly, and at last my entire torso and legs. Once I realized what it was, I called the doc, and stopped taking it. No dose last night, or this morning, and no itching. I had to laugh when the nurse told me three times that if I had any swelling of the mouth, tongue or neck, trouble breathing, or shortness of breath, to go to the ER or call 911. Good advice, but did I need it 3 times? They are supposed to give me a new medication this week and with any luck it will work and not make me crazy!

Speaking of crazy, who's been watching Breaking Bad? Oh. My. Gawd. Seriously, this is one of those shows I both love and hate. There are times when the arc of Walter White's character seems almost Shakespearean in it's depth. I began watching mostly for  the glimpses of Albuquerque, but continued for the awesome story, and I am sad to see it end. All bad things must end. 

Ice Cream Goes On

Welcome to my little slice of hell. My body, such as it is, seems intent on trying to kill me, putting me in enormous pain day after day. Constant headaches, muscle spasms/aches, joint pain, and lately trouble breathing. My health has kept me from doing much of anything-- besides reading and trawling the net, viewing the odd video or movie.  I don't have the energy or desire to do more than that. Sleeping, showering, eating--even these seem like insurmountable tasks on most days. If I manage to get out of my jammies and into actual clothes, I count the day a success! Frankly, all I really want these days is a good massage, someone to run my errands or drive me around on the few days I am able to leave the house, a nice pedicure, and that elusive snack I cannot ever find when I want it. Seems as if there is never ice cream in the house when I need it. I love ice cream. It always helps. I think heaven, besides having lots of books, cats and coffee, will have endless ice cream shops, wide varieties of flavors in waffle cones. Give me a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cheesecake Brownie or What A Cluster, a spoon, and I'm happy!

I refuse to feel sorry for myself. While these last two weeks have truly sucked, I realize that my problems are tiny, next to those of others.  There are folks out there dealing with cancer (my sister), and MS or Parkinson's, or a wide variety of other things. I keep hearing Michelle in my head, saying "Suck it up, Buttercup!" Good advice, some I need to take. My life is not over just because I'm in pain. Not sure when or why I became this scared wimp, stuck in her room, hiding out from the world, but I do not like it. As Robert Frost said "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It Goes On."

 

Paper Harmony

In going through a box of things from the garage recently, I discovered a bunch of stuff I had packed up when I moved out of the apartment I shared with my ex-husband and back in with my folks in 2008. The beautiful appliqued quilt Kathy made me, that hung on the wall; a bundle of letters and cards from as far back as elementary school; my cubby box from Montessori Plus Preschool, which I've kept since I was 3; and a box of jewelry.

I actually cried a few times, reading the letters, especially the ones from Michele. The one that really got me talked about us being friends until we're old and grey. Her comments on how she'd go grey first made me smile through my tears. Miss her every day! The birthday cards from my grandparents, all passed away now, are all so sweet, and I grinned at the letters Jolene wrote me from college. There were postcards Dad sent me from the road (somewhere I have a whole box of those!), as well one of the best cards Hattie Jo ever made me, when she was about 3. Such wonderful memories, all packed away in a hurry.

Among the items was a sheaf of papers, containing a bunch of my writing from as far back as my UNM days, some typed, some handwritten. There are a few poetry fragments, something that appears to be the outline of a play, and at least 4 full-fledged stories! I was quite impressed with myself, since I never seem to actually finish anything I begin writing these days. A couple of these are children's stories, and one is a very short (one page, typed) mystery, I guess you'd call it. In the old Reader's Digest they had those type of little bitty tales, just one page, a story of death and murder, or evil and sadness, and this was what I was aiming at, I seem to remember.

For as long as I can remember, people have told me I should be a writer, and while I do tell a good story, I've never been that great at putting my words on paper. Poetry was my medium for a long time, and still is, when I need to truly express myself. If I played an instrument, or read music, I'd have been a singer/songwriter, I suppose. I've always admired folks like Paul Simon, James Taylor, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Dolly Parton, Carole King, Bonnie Raitt, Elton John, Adele, Elvis Costello, or even Lady Gaga. Hell, I grew up listening to the Simon and Garfunkel records my older siblings had left behind, and singing along. I still know most of the words, and the harmonies. I'll never be a great poet, or a famous singer, but maybe, someday, someone will set one of my little verses to music. And then, I can harmonize, just like Art & Paul.

[caption id="attachment_721" align="alignleft" width="211"] Simon and Garfunkel
by Brittster, on DeviantArt[/caption]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Random Middle of the Night Post

I woke up Thursday morning and, for the first time in weeks, I wasn't in pain. Well, the small aches and pains that are always here were still there, but the massive pain that has had my neck and shoulders in it's grip was gone. I honestly did not know what to do! Most people - normal people - would have used their day to actually do something, but that's not how I roll. I spent my pain-free day curled up in my chair, reading. Same as always.  At least now I know that the pain can be alleviated; the day before, my sister Jolene had massaged my shoulders for a bit, nearly bringing me to tears, and then she sent me to bed with the heating pad. It worked (thanks, Butch!), and I can only wonder what a session from an actual  masseuse would do for me! Checking out deals on Groupon ASAP...

Things are stalled a bit, partially because of money, partially because I've been feeling so lousy, and partially because I just put stuff off. Big surprise. It amazes me that I once had a busy life, a full -time job, a home of my own, even a social life, and managed it all! Right now I am just proud that I've been able to keep my room clean for two weeks in a row; managing more than that is scary. However, I am working on doing more, both here, in the house (which is actually harder than going outside) and out. Still haven't started my yoga class, but that is next, as is following through on my promise to Jolene to help with dinner twice a week. I can do this, right?

What I cannot do is get Miss Google to be nice to the new kitten. They antagonize each other, and every time Honey comes too close, Miss G goes on full alert, hissing and growling. She's even swatted Honey a time or two, but the kitten doesn't care. She's either a masochist, or she really really wants to be friends, because she keeps coming into Miss G's territory, getting in her face. At this rate, I may have to call in the cat whisperer.

 

 

As the Season Turns

I am a bad blogger, or rather, a bad poster. I am constantly thinking up posts but they seldom get any farther than my head, usually as I lie awake in the middle of the night. Perhaps I need to keep my laptop closer to my bed and just reach for it when those ideas strike me. It's a thought. Of course, I have many many thoughts. Which is why I don't sleep. Most of my thoughts are really pointless. The other night all I could do was remember the plots of various movies, from popular flicks like The Breakfast Club to more obscure things like Buckaroo Banzai. I have seen both of these many times, and should know them by heart, but something kept tripping me up, and I'd get events out of sequence, or a line of dialogue wrong, and so it was hours before I fell asleep again. Woke up the next morning singing "Don't You Forget About Me" and wanting to call everyone monkey-boy.

I am glad this summer is over, and not only because I am ready for sweater weather again. With the change of seasons, I am hoping things will improve for my family. It's been a rough month, with bad news about a family member's health, a job loss, and the continuation of money and health issues that have plagued some of us all year.

Yes, there has been good news: a new baby, the first great-great-grandchild, a healthy, beautiful boy! Max turned ten, a tall, gangly, handsome, smart boy, who is totally a boy. He is currently enamored of all things gross, and wants to be a genius scientist when he grows up. I bet he'll do it, too.

As for me, well, that's a whole other kettle of fish. In June I discovered that one of the medications I'd been on for almost 3 years (to help with insomnia and chronic migraine) has one great big side effect that nobody mentioned: weight gain. My doctor finally mentioned this after noticing that I've gained nearly 40 pounds in the last 2 years, and I was appalled that she had given me a medication with this known side effect, knowing my history of weight issues! So I went off the med, lost a few pounds right away and none since. Of course, I also have had to deal with the return of the evil chronic migraine, which is not fun at all. It is pretty much the exact opposite of fun...Pain every day, all day, just there, no matter what I do or don't do. Most days it's just a dull ache, but some times, my entire head feels as if Rocky has been using it for practice.

I am learning new ways to deal with pain, such as meditation (which I've been trying for a long time, to help with sleep issues), various exercises, and reflexology. I have an appointment with a migraine specialist, as well as a chiropractor and an acupuncturist, and next week I start yoga classes. Watching what I eat & drink, too. Trying to limit my screen time, which is the most difficult thing for me, since I do love my online time, and most of my books these days are eBooks! Either way, I will work it out!

One more big change. I am attempting to begin dating again. Which is weird. Dating was always weird for me, just because I am weird. This is weird because, well, I'm a 45-year-old woman, without a career, who lives at home with her parents. Yes, I am a catch! I keep wondering if I should cut prospective dates a bit of slack, seeing as my stats aren't all that great. Then I realize, once again, that these three things are not who I am, and I deserve a good man. He will be getting a prize, so he'd damn well better deserve it! Keep your fingers crossed!

More posts to come, as the season turns. 

Tell Me a Story

It's been nearly two months since my last post. I am a slacker. In my defense, I DID spend two weeks of that time without vision, after I scratched my eyeball and had to go without contacts while it healed. Since I don't have a pair of glasses at the moment (and for some reason, we never found time to make it to the nearest vision center), and I am blind as the proverbial bat (without the great hearing), I was pretty much stuck in a chair, doing nothing.

"But, Jonna," I hear you ask, "How is that any different than your normal, everyday, vision-filled life?"

Yeah, shut up.

I know I'm a slacker, you know I'm a slacker, we all know, Jonna's a slacker. Old news. They don't call me the Queen of Procrastination for nothing! My friend and fellow blogger/slacker, Tara of tarapieceofpaper went seven months between posts, and she actually has a life and stuff to write about, so I don't feel so bad!

Anyway. While blind, or blurry, I discovered that audio books are actually kinda nifty, if the person reading them doesn't sound like Daffy Duck. Until now the only experience I had with them was listening to a few celebs read their memoirs, which I enjoyed. Craig Ferguson, my favorite comedian and talk show host, has written two books, and I own his memoir on tape. This time, I broadened my horizons, first trying a book I was halfway through reading. I had to give that up, because the reader was terrible. I am assuming she is related to the author or sleeping with the producer, because otherwise, nobody would hire her to read for a living. Remember the actress with the horrible voice in "Singin' In the Rain?" Yeah. This was her, only younger, and with a Southern accent.

So I gave up on that book and moved on to others, all of which were better, I am happy to say. My choices ranged from new age (Depak Choprah) to Stephen Fry reading short stories, to poetry collections, and podcasts. And I listened to Carol Burnett read her memoirs, too. She's always been one of my hero, so that was wonderful!

Now, I can see again, but I've not given up on audio books. It's so nice to have someone else read to me for a change. When insomnia strikes, as it often does, I just slip on my headphones, lay in the dark, and a soft voice tells me a story. Who wouldn't love that?

Talk About It. No, Really, Talk About it!!

I'm epileptic. And I talk about it. I talk about it a lot. I talk a lot, in general, but I don't hide the fact that since the age of 15, I've had seizures.

The Epilepsy Foundation's 'Talk About It' campaign is designed to get people to talk about epilepsy, to get it out in the open and remove the stigmas that have long been associated with this disease. Talk About It.org was created by actor Greg Grunberg, who you may know from Heroes, because his son has epilepsy. His son, Jake, was 7 at the time (he is 16 now), and the actor says the family felt alone, lost and stigmatized. "No one was talking about it. (There was) a great deal of misinformation circulating ... It [epilepsy] is NOT contagious, it is not a mental illness and it is not the result of any form of satanic possession. The key is understanding and information about the condition." (HuffPost)

In the years since Grunberg has been working with the Foundation, he has helped to raise millions for epilepsy research, and has, in some ways, increased awareness, although it is still not enough. Many people in the epilepsy community have wished for a "big name celebrity" to take up the cause, making it as well-known as they are. I must admit, I have, at times, been one of these people, wishing we had Oprah or Stephen King to take up our cause, because to truly get people talking, that is what it will take.

The latest campaign, a few short videos featuring musicians "talking about it" points out where this campaign often goes wrong. Of the five videos, only two mention epilepsy. Kenny Rogers, discusses his grandfathers epilepsy, and how the stigma then kept him from talking about it. Josh Kelley says that epilepsy does not mean you cannot have a great college experience, as long as you talk about it. Unfortunately, the other musicians, Smokey Robinson (who mentions stigma, but not about what), John Mayer, and the Osbourne family all simply say "Talk about it."

I watched these with high hopes, especially for the video from the Osbournes. After Kelley Osbourne had a seizure on the set of Fashion Police in March, she and her mother, Sharon, did talk a bit about the experience, but have been strangely silent about it since. Odd, since this is not a family that is good at keeping quiet. Frankly, I think  Kelley Osbourne is exactly the type of celebrity the campaign needs to bring attention to epilepsy. She is famous, outspoken, talented, and smart. While we don;t know if she's been diagnosed as epileptic, that is not really the issue. Talking about it is.

Either way, keep talking, my friends. Share these videos, and the good things on the Talk About It website with your friends. My favorite thing there at the moment is the first aid video featuring Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine. 

There are nearly three million Americans with epilepsy. Chances are, you know one or more of them. You may be one. Let's talk about it, and find out.