Changeling's Agony, Chapter 1

This is a work of fiction.  All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. 

Copyright Evelyn Hively, 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any form of bind or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

January 3rd, 2012

What insane chaos do I have to deal with now?  Couldn't the universe just for a few moments just let me have been killed in the wreck? I don't want to be here anymore.  I find myself saying this, screaming this at the top of my lungs at a mirror that can't do anything. Then my cat trills at me, and the laughter ensues.
Gods help me, I would be worse off if it wasn't for that cat.  There's only so much that she can do though. She can't have the dreams and nightmares for me.  How the hell do you deal with something that you wake up from screaming in terror but can't remember what it was you were dreaming?
- Lacy's journal

  Winter in the Appalachian foothills varies depending on where you are along the chain. Farther south down into Georgia, it's not uncommon for it to be chilly with snow sometimes at the tops but farther north into Maine and West Virginia, it's uncommon for roads to not close down from winter snowfall several times each winter season.  Eastern Tennessee Appalachians were a mixed bag.  Down closer to Chattanooga, it almost never snowed.  Near Bristol though, snow was normal.
  Lacy had found herself with the fortune of a friend needing a cabin babysat for a few months.  It couldn't have come at a better time.  Then Mace, her cat had been gifted to her.  The cabin and the cat, had been a turning point in Lacy's life that she hadn't expected nor realized she needed.
  This particular morning was no different.  Lacy leaned backwards to look at Mace.
  "I take it you want your piece a bit more crispy today since you didn't eviscerate the mouse this time?"
  Mace tilted her head to the side and meowed at her, her eyes twinkling.  Lacy snorted.  If folks could see how expressive and communicative Mace was with meows, eyes and facial expression they'd have no problem with understanding why she dearly adored that cat. Mace was still getting used to being an indoor kitty though when the fire place was going Lacy was certain that that cat would crawl into the fire if she knew she wouldn't get hurt. 
  Lacy pulled out and cut up a piece of the bacon. Putting it on a small plate, she set it down it on the steps between the dining room and kitchen for Mace.  Mace mewed her thanks and munched down slowly on her morning treat.
  "Now if I could get you trained to kill them outside, we'd be golden," Lacy sighed. "At least you aren't dropping them at my feet half-dead anymore."  
  Mace ignored her rather pointedly.  Lacy laughed and sat down for her own breakfast.  Sunrise was always her favorite time there at the cabin because she never knew what kind of animals she'd find curled up on the porch or coming down to the creek to drink.  There were deer, raccoon's, coyotes and she was positive she had seen a couple of Appalachian wolves.  Small shy little creatures that they are, she still counted herself lucky to have seen them.
  Mace mewed again appreciatively and retired herself to her favorite spot next to the chimney.  The oak that had been the fire's food last night was still a decent bed of coals that morning.  Lacy breathed a word of thanks.  It would mean setting the fire back up to a slow burn for the day would be less work than normal.  She finished up her breakfast and scrubbed down the dishes. Her normal day were always like this.
  Fill the wood box back up.  Set some of the slower burning woods into the stove for the day, finish cleaning things up, flop onto the futon and crochet or knit.  Mace would curl up nearby but never to close to the yarn.  She didn't like the sound of the yarn coming out of its holder.
  Lacy had already gone through two journals since arriving in October of last year, and the new one was already several pages into it's use.  She doodled until thoughts came to her or until fragments of dreams arrived. After last night's dream though, she found herself having written dozens of times over after mapping out the dream for the several hundredth time, What does it mean?  
  It was important. It was relevant to herself, her past and her future. But how? How did a meeting of Gods, Goddesses, mythic races and the Supreme Creator have any kind of bearing on her?  Why her?  Lacy shut her journal with an irritated sigh.  The same questions all over again with the same resulting answer: not enough information to even allow for speculation. It wasn't just those dreams. It was other dreams as well, night terrors re-living prior events that left Lacy shaking.  
  Mace trilled loudly at Lacy causing her to chuckle.  Trills were what a mother cat would give her kittens and Mace used trills to talk back to Lacy frequently.  Mace always used a certain pitch to pull Lacy's attention away from what was irritating her.
  Lacy scratched her feline friend's chin.  There was still several hours to the day left and plenty of coffee left.  There would be time for more rumination. Right now, there was a Mace deciding she wanted to be the certain of her human's attention.  Lacy, gladly obliged. 
  

It's Saturday already?!?!

I don't know about you but that week went fast!

So I'm chilling out, as I've got two orders almost 90% done.  With another three at halfway and one more that I'll be starting on tomorrow.  Chilling out though means working on orders around here, so I'm doing one of the knitting orders instead of one of the crocheting ones for a change of pace.

Black Friday has come and gone with its usual amounts of snarling, moaning and not actually saving money.

I almost ate too much on Thursday, and I made enough for food for leftovers for a week.  And that was just with cooking for just two people.  Can you imagine how much food is going to be leftover in future years?  Any guests we have will get sent home to-go boxes of food.  LOL

I'll have the first chapter of Changeling's Agony up later today.  I'm working on it in-between color changes on two of the orders I've made time to work on today.  Which reminds me, must remind fiance to bring home a couple of craft supplies.  =/

That never seems to fail.  I get an order for something, I think GREAT! I have everything I need... wrong....never fails.  Never ever ever fails.  Either I need stuffing, felt for eyes, more of one color or I get distracted by an annoying neighbor.   

So what was there for me to be thankful for this Thanksgiving?

I'm with my fiance, we actually got turkey this year (last year was chicken), we got to spend most of the evening together, watched Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, and just had a nice quiet day.  While we aren't living in a better place yet, that's on the horizon and is a very attainable goal.

Also for those of you who are eyeballing things in my shop, there's a 20% off coupon for the Etsy storefront - BLUECOLLARPREP2014 for your entire order.  It's good until the 18th of next month, when the shop goes on vacation for a bit.

So all in all, I had a great holiday.  I hope you did too.

Vacation until Saturday.

Happy Thanksgiving Folks.

Stay safe, spend it with folks you can at least tolerate and I'll be back on Saturday.

When You're the Wife of a PI

And so begins my next project, right here for you all to see.  Names have been changed to protect privacy and in several instances parts of the story have been fictionalized in order to make them a bit more interesting.  Other parts... needed no such tweaking.  These are just going to be a series of short stories as time allows for me to type up what bits and pieces of interesting or non-interesting fare that occur and a permanent ongoing series here.  So grab some coffee.


When you're the wife of a private investigator....

It ain't what they show on TV or in the movies.  It's never what they show on the TV or movies.  It's boring.  Thank Gods.

I realize that most likely doesn't make sense.  Unless you've been friends with someone in the business or are a PI, then you know what I'm talking about.  Everything a PI does, while it has the chance of becoming H-town exciting though there's a 2% chance of it, is boring.  Sitting in a car on surveillance is boring.  Following people doesn't happen on every single surveillance and those traffic lights are never working in your favor.  Benjamin, my husband, has been doing PI work for a little over seven years now.    I'm Garnet by the way.  (Let's just not go there right now okay?)

Benjamin works in the hub that is armpit of California: Los Angeles.  Before you start pointing out all the celebrities and all of that jazz, most of them don't live in LA.  They live in smaller, quieter areas on the borders.  Most of them don't hire PI's because usually they don't need them.  You know where most of the work comes from as a PI?  Well, the movies and shows got that part right.  Jealous husbands or wives who want proof their significant other is cheating on them. Even those cases are boring.

Benjamin and I met over three years ago.  We've been married two.  When I finally joined him here in LA, I did go with him on a few cases. I only do that now when I've spent too much time in the apartment.  Benji works for three different groups of companies that have PI's on their staff full time.  Only one of those companies provides weekly work.  That's another thing the movies have partially right.  Work comes and goes.  And when it goes you better have money put back and side jobs.

There is no such thing as a set schedule.  Take this morning for instance.  We were cuddling and by cuddling I mean I'm wrapped up around him snoozing on his shoulder while he's goofing off on a social media site and kissing me on the forehead from time to time.  Then the phone rings, and it's his full time boss letting him they tweaked the schedule.  So he has to get up and do a quickie preliminary investigation series of paperwork to find out where he's going.   At which point I hear him cuss (which is dammits and fucking hells in case you're wondering).  Not only is where he going not in LA this morning, but he has to leave as soon as he gets breakfast inhaled.

What folks don't tell you about L.A. is that it's big.  REALLY big, and that while they might call parts of it Glendale, Orange County, or Simi Valley.... it's all Los Angeles.  There's no difference between any of them.  It's also really long and really wide when you drive a lot like he does.  On a good day, when there's minimal traffic, you can get from the ocean to the eastern side into the desert in two and a half hours.  No, you read that right.  Two. And a half. Hours.  That's in minimal traffic on the most direct route, like on a Monday morning at three a.m. .  If you when everyone else does,  bring an audio book because everyone else has the same idea and you're looking at a four hour drive. If there are no accidents.

Then when he gets there it'll be more boring.  He'll be sitting outside an office waiting for someone to finish a meeting and then follow them home.  Where he'll do more sitting.

Did I mention all the driving?  This is one of the only things about his job that actually frightens me. The other is how they send a white guy to some areas of LA that I don't think even the cops go into without full riot gear at hand, if not on.   People in LA, think traffic lights are more like guidelines than hard rules.   It's a wonder this place is still standing.

Even then it gets boring.  You see one fender bender, the drivers flip each other off, trade local colloquialisms and then drive off, you've seen them all.  They're the same in every town or city, although on a good day, you may only see one such incident at every third light.

Even audio books get boring on this job.  Encounters with the cops, boring too.  Even the encounters with bored cops stay boring when they are talking to you.

There's no office at the end of a long hallway with frosted glass and Courier font on the window stating it's Detective So and So's office.  No dames walking in high heels and garter belts, with hats drawn down so low you can only see cherry lips and slender jawlines. (Thank the Gods for small blessings.) No high speed chases... well, not the kind you see in the movies, but that's a story for another time.  The Dick Tracy story lines of noir and Humphrey Bogart lineage... those are either things of the past or happen so rarely that they are the stuff of legends.

I still go with from time to time.  I tend bring my crocheting or knitting with me.  For whatever reason, this tends to help us be ignored.  While this lets me get orders done, it makes for a boring day. I've been on just enough surveillance that got a little too interesting for my tastes, so I like those boring days.  They mean my husband comes home and wasn't shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  He's a former Marine though.  That means exactly what you think it means.  He likes the days that get exciting.  Though here anymore, following the subject to the grocery store is as exciting as it usually gets.

You want an exciting investigation career, kiddies?  Don't go private sector.

Saturday Morning rambling on

So, I'm chilling here.  Working on fixing a couple of Toothless wings that I read the pattern on wrong (@^$&#*@$%&#$) and just enjoying a semi-normal morning.  Semi-normal to most folks anyone.

For me it's a normal morning.  Planning out my time for how much I'm going to spend on each project. Hoping the idiot whose a blasted energy vampire practically doesn't come over (you know the kind of folks that always leave you drained).  Wondering how many personal experiences to spin up into Changeling's Agony.  Making sure I'll have eaten before Traveller's Universe tonight.  Practicing yoga sitting positions (which are great when you've hip problems like I do).

If the brat en-vamp will stay away, I'll be on track.  She's one of these people who when she comes in, everything comes to crashing screeching halt.  She knows she's welcome sometimes, but somehow that got stretched to all the time in her head.   *facepalm*

Changeling's Agony has cemented itself for the most part in my head.  I know where I and it want to go.  So far, me and the story/characters agree on the directions and events.  ...so far.

Other stories are coming along as well, but those are coming along at like... a paragraph at a time.

The muse knows, it's focus on crochet orders and that has taken the priority.

Save for where Nuovaria and CA are involved.  I've had two handwritten chapters of Nuovaria that I've been working on getting typed up, and expect to finish those by next weekend.

It literally goes as follows:

*crocheting for several minutes*

*take a break, type up a paragraph or two, save progress*

*go back crocheting*

That's how it goes...like I said... normally goes.

At the suggestion of my big brother, I'm going to get a sign made when we get moved that says:

"The Cauldron Hours are: 10AM - 8PM local time."

So I have this idea....

... that I'm thinking about fleshing out here on the blog.

I have a story idea, but I don't know if it's readable.  So I'm going to be doing the chapters on here, on Thursday's or Saturday's (whichever day the muse decides to cooperate) and then once the story is done, go back and put it all together for a book and be done with it.  This idea has nothing to do with any other story.

If this story seems practically identical to another FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS PLEASE TELL ME.  I do not want to be writing something thinking it's original to me and find out, no, this author did it and did it better.   Cuz... seriously that would suck. Several of the dreams of the main character are ones I have had, but I'm learning courage.  The courage to present to you some of my darkest dreams, but also this character.  She is me in a few ways, in that, many of these dreams I have actually had.   This blog is my personal blog... and I'm bearing a large chunk of who I am personally to you here... so this is partly catharsis and partly my flexing some creative muscle in an attempt to make my muse happy.  She's upset because I'm not writing enough, so I'm giving her this.

  So... I tentatively present to you...

Changeling's Agony: Awakening
Prologue

     It always started out the same.  Always the damn same sequence of events.  The horns calling everyone in.  The assembly taking their seats.  Everyone bickering and jockeying for position based on their age, pantheon, followers etc, etc. Always her, being guided to the front row.  Always that feeling of unease.

   Assemblies like this were almost never heard of.  Every pantheon was here. Egypt with their anthropomorphic states, Greek with their simple flowing robes but looks of pure emotion, Chinese with their feigned indifference but quick side glances.  Then there were the front rows.  Gaea, with her daughters.  Ma'at with her children.  Lugh, with his heirs. So forth and so forth.  Those who were upheld by universal concepts regardless of culture that had become algorithms of multiple cultures and their worship of certain concepts, like that of justice, the mother earth, the sun, the moon, the sky which gave the rain for the plants which feed the meat. Their families were massive as well, as all could be described as some key Gods' and Goddesses' offspring.  Without light and darkness, there would be no photosynthesis or rest.  

   It never failed though.  She would be seated as an offspring of Gaea... but her father was... always behind her, the Elf King.  She never looked at him as it was improper to look behind at rows towards the back, but she always could tell he was there and proud of her. Her mother was Gaea, to the front and left of her. No one ever knew what was going to happen at the meetings, but this was a meeting of everyone. It was a meeting that had nothing leading up to it. A meeting of uncertainty.  It wasn't what anyone was expecting.  Out of nowhere, the Winged Ones had appeared and handed off notifications.  She had never been summoned to such a meeting before.

   A hush feel over the assembly as It came into the hall.  It was impressive.  One instance it was a rainbow, other It was all of them as they inhaled and exhaled.  IT was The Supreme and they were all it's children.  The supreme intelligence that had been born with their universe that had come into existence in one single explosive microsecond. Everyone bowed their heads in reverence to the All. Even she, though she was headstrong and young, she knew... this was her grandfather and that he deserved every ounce of respect and love she could muster.  She/He was herself and everything around her. She was It, and It was her, even with the separation of identities.

   It greeted everyone with love.  It only took a minute, but the voice in her mind that whispered to her, "Hello my Dear One! How is my most precious love today?"  The conversations happened in only a couple of minutes, but everyone returned their to their Origin in what seemed only a few heartbeats.

   The meeting began with normal formalities, the Fathers of the pantheons announcing themselves and that their families were there for the proceedings.  It was disconcerting when Gaea, Ma'at, Danu, Dagda, and a few of the other who were known as the All's in their titles, stood up and in unison announced their children and It's were all there.     

   And It's?

   That part always gave her chills.  It was capable and willing to produce with those who were the product of energy thought formation to produce offspring.  It's how so many of the races had come into being, but it was still eerie. She was the result of It and Gaea. She forced herself to focus on the meeting.

   "I'm sorry my dears but it would appear that they have chosen their paths and will stick to it until the next Change is upon them or until the other Races have decided that it's time for the humans to cease existing."

    Cries of outrage came up from dozens of voices.  The humans had been beloved of almost all the Gods because of how short their lives were. They appreciated the good things much more than any Elf or Dragon or Dwarf did and it was because they were more mortal than so many others.  Humans were the pets, the beloved ones.  The only ones who would slip among and be among the stars.

    It raised it's hands to calm the Children.  They murmured and restlessness overtook the assembly as a general feeling of indignity arose. It looked the Children over and focused on her. She rose without being beckoned and stepped down the pathway to her what was her GrandFather/Mother.  She bowed, with tears trickling down her cheeks.  She knew what was coming.  A sacrifice.

   It looked at her with love unbound.  

   "I need you all... to save the race.  They can't produce human souls at a rate that will sustain their reproduction abilities, so I need you all to become human.  Will you?" It asked... no, It begged.

   She straightened her shoulders and faced the assembly, haughty but trembling in fear.

   "The Elves answer the Call of the Creator-All.  We will not abandon our baby brethren race as we were not abandoned."

    She lifted her chin in defiance and stared down one particular God who had been very vocal in all the proceeding talking about just smacking the humans down as they had before and forcing them to confront their mortality and inability to be perfect. They were meant for imperfection, but to allow them to get anywhere close was folly according to him.

   Her declaration sent many into fervent whispers and glances to allies or foes that wouldn't have normally occurred.  Her father stood in solidarity with her as did every other Elf, Dwarf and Dragon in attendance.  Many became hushed, and stood with her.  Some the only ones to stand from their pantheons.  Others, the whole pantheon stood. One Race Elder stood and looked around with a most serious look of disgust on her face.
   "This means WE have to leave the Earth as we die off and be re-born as humans, on a world that we have every right to share and walk on with, just because YOU want to save a bunch of mutant monkeys! Fine. You have chosen war and I will bring it to your doorstep when you least expect it. Your precious humans will be destroyed, even if it must be done slowly."
    She left the Hall. Everyone who had not stood with her, left with the Elder.  It waited until everyone who not chosen to stand in solidarity with IT and the others had left. 
   "They too will be born as humans... but they will not be your allies in way or form," Gaea spoke.  It nodded and focused back her, his granddaughter Elf. 

    It gently wrapped both hands around her hands and kissed her forehead. 

    "Let it begin."

   Lacy sat up in bed, panting from the lack of air her lungs couldn't seem to find.  

  The Dreams were back and there would be no avoiding what they meant this time.

   

    

Just in case you need something to read...

I have a recommendation for you.  This is only the second chapter.  His writing style is what I was brought up on in terms of just, down to earth, in your face, this is what it is... So I give you... P.J. O'rourke.

"The top of the otherwise modern cement Kuro gu office was fringed, Burger King fashion, with a mansard roof of traditional tiles. When the students ran out of stones and bottles, they began pulling loose these fat parentheses of baked clay and sailing them out over the courtyard. Weighing ten pounds apiece and coming from fifty feet in the air, they had the impact of small mortar shells. If you kept your eye on the trajectories, you could move out of the way in time. But to stop watching the sky for even ten seconds was curtains. I saw six or seven cops carried away, heads lolling and blood running out from under their helmets. I turned a shoulder to the building to write that in my notebook, and half a tile flew past me so close I felt the wind through the fly of my 501s. If I’d been standing one inch to the south, I’d be writing this in soprano."

O'Rourke, P.  J. (2007-12-01). Holidays in Hell: In Which Our Intrepid Reporter Travels to the World's Worst Places and Asks, "What's Funny About Thi (O'Rourke, P. J.) (p. 53). Grove/Atlantic, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

Get the Kindle Edition, if you can.  It's much cheaper than hard copy.  And this is only the second chapter, and I'm going... hey... Check this out!  

Huh.... I'll Be...

<<<  A book catalog.

I haven't seen one of these in a long time.  Seriously.  We've internet, who sends out book catalogs still?

Apparently these guys.

All right, so I'm looking through to see how much leftist pandered bullshit is in here along with whatever "safe" right winger things there might be...

The usual encyclopedia's.

Cooking books.

Rebellion: History of England from James I to the Glorious Revolution by Peter Ackroyd

Glorious Revolution?  Was not aware of that event having such...misnomer name.  Revolution are not glorious.  They are times highly necessary but are bloody and costly.

Normal assortment of art books and a... re-creation of 18th-Century Indian playing cards?  They're round and highly odd looking.

The Autobiography of Mark Twain.  Okay now this one I can totally grok it.   Mark Twain is an icon of American literature.   (I really really really liked how they did Mark Twain in Star Trek: TNG. ;) )

Baseball...beekeeping...

Audubon: Early Drawings.   Okay now this one intrigues me as well, as they were some of the first people to begin putting together identification guides that everyone could understand.

Ugh... pedantic ramblings from morons about secret religions.  Well apparently they aren't that secret.
Then I find something that sends me laughing out of the bean bag chair!

The Book of Bastards: 101 Worst Scoundrels and Scandals from the World of Politics and Power

I'm just tickled they let the author name it the Book of Bastards.

Cats... more cute cats...

Puppies.... more puppies...

Books on manners...

More cookbooks...

Atlantis theories... seriously what book catalog doesn't have those?

Then I come across the one that stops me in my tracks.  It reminds of a trip that we took my junior in high school to DC.  (I was 16 and you'd think being young and impressionable would have at least made my visit keep DC in a positive light.... yeah...no.  Fuck that stupid town.)  We visited all the memorials like good little students... but only a few of us went through the Holocaust museum.  If you haven't gone, go.  If you refuse to go, you're a fucking coward.  You hear me?  You're a coward.

The Man Who Broke Into Auschwitz

New York...more art... poetry, more poetry and more poetry... ehgads some of those folks are atrocious... where's a good Emily Dickinson collection when I need it?

Board games...art kits... more art... more encyclopedias...

A...Very... Klingon... Christmas ????

oookkaaayyy.....

Thrillers.... mysteries..... CD's......

Well, things haven't changed in book catalogs.  They still have bits and pieces of everything from cool to... what the fuck did am I seeing here?  Disappointed though.  I saw zero classics.

"Classics is such a vague term.." Oh bullshit.  CLASSICS.

Like:

Ivanhoe
Moby Dick
Robin Hood
The Scarlet Letter
The Prince and Pauper
A Tale of Two Cities
Frankenstein
Pride and Prejudice
Dune
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn


You know... REAL books with REAL stories and REAL characters.

I'm going to cheat again

Because I'm in a great zone on my work right now and don't want to pause.

However, I am a generous woman and will share with you the following.

All those who saw this coming....

... raise your hand.

Seen this yet?

I'm in disbelief that there are people trying to understand why the girls ran away in the first place.

There are several reasons that they did.  Which ones exactly, the girls claim it's because Islam is where it's at and it's where they belonged.  There are other reasons that it could be too, that aren't on the surface.

Reason number one:  Grass is greener on the other side.  Islam is that other side to Christianity that they were most likely raised under. Regardless of sect of Christianity, Islam is that other side of the fence.  

Reason number two: It was glamorous.  Seriously.  They thought it was glamorous.  Go fight and be a rebel.  What person can honestly say that they didn't consider this kind of thing when they were stupid teenager?   It's a form of rebellion.  A dangerous form of rebellion, more dangerous than the other forms because walking away from Islam is a not something that happens.  You can get away from drugs and alcohol.... but not those Islam fuckers.

Reason number three: Politics very likely had a role in it.  You can point the finger in your head at whichever fucking side you want, but all that does it make you a part of the problem.  If you can't steel wool strip your beliefs down to three sentences each topic, you need to get the fuck out of politics.  That goes for both "sides".

Reason number four:  It gave them a purpose.  This one I understand all too well, and it's only reason why I even have a tiny amount of sympathy for these girls.   There's too much conflicting information these days on what a true and dignified purpose is.  You ask left-wingers and they give a bunch of shit that doesn't go against their avoid bad think jackassery.  You ask right-wingers and you get the exact same fucking thing.   Just with different points of "good".    

That's why I think they went.  They wanted to feel that they had made a difference.  They have... though whether or not it's a good one or bad one... that's up to the individual person whose looking at their story to decide.

I don't think they did good.  They scared their parents to death, they've brought only the Gods know how many more girls into that hell hole of an religion to be nothing more than battlefield fodder and baby breeders.   They gave an enemy that needs staked out for vultures to feed on, more power.

When you feel like you don't have a purpose... you start looking in places that are worse than not having a purpose.  Sometimes you have to find a bunch of little things to fill that hole.

There are thousands of things you could be doing that can make a difference.  Get off your lazy ass and find them.

Time for a change.

"Uh oh.... what kind of change Evie?"

Relax.  It's... okay yeah actually it is kinda major.

One of the things that a Witch should be doing frequently, is introspection.  Self-improvement is vital but ego is meant to be a tool, not make you into a tool.

One must be aware of their interactions in every light.

Yesterday I found myself staring back at the realization that I have a large amount of work to do... and that I can't do it with my facebook stuff still active.  We ALL know how much a time sink that place can be.

Well it's also the home of keyboard warriors and their liquid courage.  Loose lips sink ships?

Loose fingers cause episodes.

Last two months have been many micro and small episodes after scanning my facebook feed and coming away dealing with memories.  That's a little too much power over someone.  I can't keep sacrificing my productivity just be online and debate with someone.   I better things to do, than sit on the floor staring at my computer screen wondering how the fuck someone could so god damn stupid.  The site is going full on depression trigger some days.

What happens when something has too much power of you?  You remove it. Completely.

Everything on Facebook is going to be shut down a few days before Yule.  Probably will be back up online there next summer.  The Zibbit and Etsy will be on vacation from December 18th to January 15th.  They'll be online and available for your perusal after January 15th again.  However, there may not be a lot of in-stock things.

I am going to be working on a new website, one where I can have the store, this blog and everything I work on in ONE place.

Yeah, there are folks I won't know how are doing because the only way we interact is Facebook.  There's only a few of folks that I'll actually seriously miss that I only interact with on FB.  Like a Controlled Chaos and MurphyMonster's Dad...  But the site has become a source of stress, and less and less enjoyment every day.  I'm looking at Ello and maybe MiWe I think it was called as maybe a new option over Facebook, but I'm not sure on those either.

But I am dangerously close to burning out.  I can feel that crinkling sensation that seems to happen at the edge when you've pushed yourself on one particular topic for too long.

You do what you have to in order to take care of yourself.  Regardless of what others might think is best for you.  They aren't you.  They aren't dealing with the consequences of YOUR actions.  They aren't responsible for your mess, your emotions, your problems.  You can weigh their advice against a situation, and toss it if you know it's wrong.

Sometimes the only piece of advice that's worth listening to is, "Now I'm not you..."

Music

It's a cheat post today darlings.

I had a longer night than normal last night.  From a small fuss with the Fiance... to... well, a spooky event that sobered me up to the point I put my drink in the fridge, double checked the lock on the door and scrambled into bed.

So, it's a music link.

Black Zone

That's what I've taken to calling it.

October 2011 - March 2012.

When I hit my worst bought of depression since I was 16-17 years of age.

I don't remember most of November or December.  January was when things start moving upward and March was when for the first time since I was 11 or 12... I didn't feel like I was covered in oil.

I talk about this because I'm still bummed out.  Not as badly as the Black Zone, but still.  It's fucking with my productivity, my ability to keep the PTSD from getting severe in terms of symptoms.  Minor flashbacks I can deal with.... but not when they go on all day.

With the fiance going on work that I can't come along with, it's harder to fight days off like that.  He's become a very big part of my world and being able to deal with this shit.  So when he's not around and I don't get to see him for a few days.... yeah.  It's bad.  Dark gray.  Not Black, but definitely a darker grey than I like.

A part of what made January the recovery that it was, was because I had picked up the habit of crocheting one small thing a day.  Usually first thing in the day, after morning coffee and lovings from the MindyCat.  Be it a hat or a neck purse.

There were literally days, were that was all I did.  Was make hats.  Beanies to be precise.

I get one done, get up walk around, stoke the fire, re-clean something (I had mice seeing as how I was in the middle of the woods) and then would sit back down, pick two new colors and make another hat.

I made a lot of hats and purses.

I think I need to return that habit of one small thing made a day.  It puts something down as having accomplished something, and that causes a massive release of endorphin's to counteract the grey.  It makes it was easier to get other things done to.

And by the end of the day, I've managed to get at least two or three things done.  When you deal with depression a lot, that's a major accomplishment.

Even if that one thing, multiplies into several of the same thing.... I've gotten something.  I've made a step, from dark grey to towards actual colors again.

The orders are getting done though.  I'm not as bogged down this year as I was last year.

Don't be surprised if a bunch of bags and hats appear in the shop soon.

Pass the Coffee dudes.....

7:30 am this morning....awake.

I managed to get a 15 minute nap. After that it was very clear, there wasn't any going back to sleep.  Oh well.

The to-do list for today includes working on streamlining and cleaning up the facebook page for Jade Rose Zen, which also got a slight name change.  Jade Rose Zen ThreadWorks.

Someone finally went, hey the name doesn't really say much besides being catchy.  *head desk*

Never fails, either people won't give any advice or give too much.  Thankfully my friend Erin knows where to draw the line when it comes to advice.  Lovely gal that she is.

Though last night she asked me, what the heck it was that going on with JRZT.  Etsy brings in half of my orders but zero traffic.  Zibbet brings almost all of my traffic, but no orders.  Half of my orders come from Facebook, but maybe ten percent of traffic.

*head desk; head desk; head desk*

I do plan on building a website that is my store and independent of the crapp shoots that all these sellers.  Whether or not it work out..... well, that's another ball game and one that I'm not going to address until after the move.

And of course, Jade Rose Zen Threadworks even without the spaces is too long for Etsy, but the title can have it....

*rubs temples*

How one manages to stay sane while attempting to maneuver all this shit is beyond me.   So what's on tap for new stuff coming to the Facebook page?  Hopefully by the end of today, I'll have things organized better.  I am not an ads person.  Hell, I can barely write descriptions for the stuff I make that is outside of what the measurements are.  That's all folks need right?  Along with a good two or three pics....

Seriously how the hell do some of these folks come up with this prattle that is in their items listings?

Adding four new albums to the Facebook page, including a available for custom order catalog, knitting, crocheting and a paracord catalog.

Also, I call bullshit on anyone who says the economy is getting better.  PTUI!

Go fuck a duck.  Seriously.  Last year, I was getting several big orders.  This year, I had one big one and everything is small things.  Even small things are great though, but folks just aren't spending their money.  They're holding onto it tightly because they don't know when things are going to suddenly break on their cars that they've duct taping and wishing along as pieces start rattling that really shouldn't rattle.

Hell, I know folks who are trading quarts of food they canned two years ago to shade tree mechanics to get their brakes fixed, oil changed, etc.  People are trading goods for services.   Which is a time-honored tradition by the way.  One that I fully practice whenever able.  To be honest, things are not going to be better economy wise.  There's too many bubbles, there's too many head in the sand and there's coming up probably a few years where you're going to want armed guards on the fields protecting crops.

Won't last for several years though, probably 3-6 at the most.  Americans are bred from incredibly hardy stock, from all over the world.  There's a very unique spirit there that after a time will shake itself clean and look around and go, "Oh hell.  This needs fixed, and this needs fixed...."  So they start fixing stuff in their own lives, which produces this gorgeous ripple effect.  It starts inspiring other folks to get off their asses and get work done.

Oops, there I go another tangent again... what was I talking about... oh yeah, the shop.   I'll be taking a decent number of pictures today of the paracord stuff.  There so much of it, they can literally be broken down by color.  Heck, I'll throw up a second post late today with everything in it.  Sound good?

Well, I'm done rambling for today.  Time for coffee and breakfast.  Ya'll have a great weekend okay?

More Odds and Ends...

I do believe I'm on the upswing from the bummed out episode of the beginning of the month.  Which is a good thing considering the amount of work that I'm tackling in terms of the crochet and knitting orders.  However that means I'll be cutting time online in many ways.

Outside of my music addictions that is...

I've noticed I get a weird kind of lonely.  Like not for a lot of company but one particular person's company.  Yeah him.  Heh, what do you expect?  I love him and we help each other stay happy.

Down side is I have 19 pages to type up (which are handwritten and it translates that three handwritten pages usually equal one typed page... unless you're one of those people with small and neat handwriting which in that case go fuck off.... I hate you....)

Some people are able to force themselves to write and you can't tell the difference between the forced writing and the parts that they wrote in a fit of inspiration that lasted almost all day, and yielded blah-k number of words.  Me... I can't do that.  My muse will give me weird looks when she's feeling writing lazy but wants to crochet.  Or when she wants to write and I want to crochet.

My muse is a multitask-er.  She likes that I can do many different creatives things.  She gets frustrated when I have to remind her I only have two arms. Trust me, I'd love to have two sets.  One doing the yarn work and one typing furiously down all the blasted ideas that roll through my head.

Oh to be Pilot...

I'm actually hoping that once we get the desktop built, I can get one of those write as you speak softwares.  That would make a lot of things easier because I could be on the couch working on the next project and when an idea hits, I can just start talking but keep working.  Being able to do both at once....

Hey a woman can dream can't she?  =D

Also, one more thing.  Yesterday, I grabbed up the The Giver series Omnibus.  The trailers had intrigued me so I grabbed it up.  At least once a month, I have to read a book.  Else the brain fog like I was experiencing earlier this week, just gets worse and it gets harder to get what I need to, done.

It was a pleasant read.  Four books though in six hours time is... well.... I'm a fast reader.  It's just how it is.  However, do not read the books and then see the movie.  You will be pissed.  The trailer has given me enough indications that the movie will be identical in name, character names and maybe a few elements of the story line.  THAT'S IT.

I'm a bit disgusted that the author didn't put her foot down more when they bought the rights for a movie.  There is a good story there, but the fucktards of H-town fucked it up big time.  If you're interested in the Giver series, click that link up there and it'll take you to the Omnibus, which is a better buy than all four separately.

Random bits and pieces

Photo credit Michael Branson

So I've found out that when I'm having a minor episode, I tend to clench my jaw.  To the point that when I realize it and go it open it and work the muscles and hinges, it hurts like it got dislocated.
This is a new thing, just popped up in the last couple of months.

Great. /sarcasm

Something about November.  The down feeling from Samhain has passed but November for whatever reason brings my productivity levels to a grinding halt.  They stay low and I have to force myself to keep the pace steady else, I fall behind on orders.  Several of the joints hurt, it's incredibly easy to get discouraged.  That usually ends around the middle of the month.  Something about those first two blasted weeks though...

I have chocolate though, and Aleve, and am in better communications with some of my friends though I really need to work on that with others that I've not talked to in awhile.  I hope they understand though.

I've been going outside and standing in the sun.

I'm really hoping we don't do the move during the Yule season.  That'd just be.... eesh.  Don't get me wrong, I know a little chaos is good for a person, but when even Eris looks at the possibility and goes "NAY NAY!"  .... you get a little worried...

I gotta admit, I will miss bits and pieces of California.  We've car camped in some amazing places here, and there is a very quiet, rugged spirit that runs while deep underneath all of the bullshit, you can still find it.

Hey there...

....glad you stopped by. Come on in.  Hot Water on the stove if you'd like some tea.

There's been something rolling around in the back of my head for awhile now.  Let's talk about it.

Either late last year or early this year, I don't remember which, my mother told me about one of her residents at the nursing home she works at.  A doll of a lady.  Literally.  Apparently she was maybe 95 pounds. Maybe 5 foot.

She brought with her her organ, and was a mistress at playing it.  The thing that stuck out in my mind though was a small bit from one of the meals she had come down for, she was wearing according to my mother a very beautiful skirt.  When queried, she told my mother it was her depression skirt.

I just see the puzzled look my mother gave her.

"It's the skirt I made in the Depression."

...yes.... THE Depression.  The blessed woman was, IIRC, over 100.  Think about that for a few minutes.

A skirt she had made, probably in the early 30's.  That puts that skirt between 75 and 85 years old.  She probably hand sewed it.

It was still a beautiful skirt.  Can you just imagine what that looked like?

She was only the home for about a year I think.  She passed away this fall.  A few weeks after I had asked my mom if she could get a picture of her and her skirt.  (And yes, *THAT* thought did fly through my head, being the slightly superstitious wench that I am.  It didn't stay for long, but long enough to make me wince.)

This skirt and woman have been on my mind a lot.

She lived through an era where:

1. Money was practically worthless.
2. Material goods were of high value.
3. Everyone had gardens or knew someone who had a garden and they bartered with them, skills for goods.
4. Things were made to last.  Fabric wasn't as cheaply made, etc.

Folks survived the Depression because they innovated.

They relied on their skills.

They made due.

They were stubborn.

With each passing day, individuals who have decades of experience are slipping through our fingers.  Folks who were there for the Depression.  A treasure trove of a walking library.  One that preppers and survivalists are missing out on.

And their stories! Dear Gods can you imagine their stories!  All back before we were wired in like we are now.  

I really wish I could have might the Skirt Lady and shared a cup of tea with her.

November...

Crikey!

Where'd the year go?

Also, a happy and blessed All Hallows Day to those of you who celebrate it.

Well it's National Write a Novel Month.

"Oooohhhh... will you participating Evie?"

Yes and no.

I have a few ideas, but nothing solid.  Factor in that I just got two new orders for baby blankets from the neighbor. As much as I would like to try my hand on it, I have too much work to devote each and every single day to it.  (Which honestly is a luxury.)

I do however firmly believe in aiding others with creative endeavors, so I went hunted up about four-five writing prompts websites.  Hopefully, they'll have something that you can use.

The Teacher's Corner

Daily Teaching Tools: Journal Prompts (Try not to guffaw so hard there, you might hurt yourself.)

Poets and Writers

Creative Writing Prompts

Writing Forward: 25 writing prompts

Ya'll have a good (and productive for those you writing) weekend!