Coming back from the other side of my Bipolar Wonderland through medication, creativity, and moxie.
Describe a family member.
Larger than life, with a contagious laugh and a heart both big and weak. My dad was an amazing, flawed human. He was six foot, blue eyed, and a fantastic cook. He did nothing in moderation, at all. A self-proclaimed hedonist and a Toastmaster.
What is your favorite form of physical exercise?
I’m always down for a good wander, a good walk or something. Maybe a bicycle ride, but I’ve not been on anything but a stationary bike for over a decade.
How much would you pay to go to the moon?
I don’t know that I would go to the moon, if given the opportunity. I’ve got brain gremlins, mental health struggles, and am store-bought neurotransmitter/serotonin dependent as well as insulin resistant.
That makes for a miserable time between leaving Earth, landing on the moon, and then the trip back. Especially when I would have access to yeet myself out an airlock.
All in all, it would be hell… probably.
So, nothing. If I could go for free, with enough meds to get there and back, and enough yarn to crochet on the journey, I’d go.
What food would you say is your specialty?
Sadly, for my lactose intolerant partner, my two main specialties are Alfredo sauce and sausage and cheese stuffed shell.
What major historical events do you remember?
Hmmm.
Most of my memories are either of the 90s or the twenty-teens. The aughts, from about 1999 to 2009, are a blur of homelessness and transient living.
The first few that come to mind are:
Oklahoma City Bombing, 9/11 and the clusterfuck of racism that followed, Columbine, the Soviet Union being dissolved (had a Communist in the family), the horrors in Rwanda… Clinton getting elected twice and his little tussle with being improper. Y2K and all that…
Oh! Hurricane Andrew! 1992 was the year and I lived in Tamarac, Florida. I learned to play rummy and backgammon with four generations of women in my great Grandmother’s house as the storm roared overhead.
Lots of little things that might not have made the memories of others.
What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
The biggest risk I’d want to take is going to live on my own in a decent trailer or tiny house.
What are you most proud of in your life?
Surviving despite my brain’s and the rest of the world’s attempts. Of course with several exceptions, as I do have loved ones.
What have you been working on?
Woo buddy, is my active project list long.
I’m working on:
Okay, I guess it’s not that long. But it’s a lot with NaNoWriMo and the Oracle I’m going to be working on after Halloween over on Off the Hook of the Witch.
I’m one busy human!
13,994 Days Alive
It’s been a bit since I’ve done an actual blog post.
I’ve… not been okay.
Continue reading “Of Ham and Haruhi Hitlock”What’s something most people don’t know about you?
Well, most people know I’m queer. I’ve been told it’s practically visible from space.
They don’t often know I’m gender-fluid.
Today is a chickish day, I think. At least, I’m wearing a dress and leggings and such. But gender presentation and all that not equaling gender entirely and all that.
Yesterday was a dudely day.
Who knows what tomorrow will be?
Do lazy days make you feel rested or unproductive?
So, here’s the thing about lazy days: I don’t usually get the choice in whether or not I take them. I have fibromyalgia. There are days where I simply cannot function.
Usually, I feel both rested and completely unproductive. Pardon the double negative, but I don’t do not doing things well. Idle hands are Puck’s playthings and all that.
Even now, I’m watching a show with Mellon and crocheting to relax.
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
When I think of successful people, the first that comes to mind is my dear friend Reffie.
She always seems to have her shit together and is always able to roll with whatever stuff life throws her way.
She’s an amazing writer. She’s got an adorable cat. And she’s just one of my favorite people.
What makes a good neighbor?
A good neighbor? I don’t really know. I’ve not known most of my neighbors beyond a cursory hello and a few conversations.
But here, it seems to be that a good neighbor minds their own business and doesn’t park like a jerk.
Postmark Wonderland 