Nothing but Time by Metric, Video w/ Lyrics & Thirst Day Prep

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Family, Movies, Music, Too Long For Twitter

EDITED with proper linkage. This is why I don’t get paid, folks. *deep curtsy*

My current earworm, hide the ad pop up for the lyrics, or scroll down and read them. (I know I share a lot of Metric songs, but I made sure, none have repeated. I don’t think ūüėČ

And I’m speechless to say that my life is a damned embarrassment of riches, some days.
It’s so very humbling.
Thanks to all that keep my/our lives/life on the bright side.
Share love and life into the circle of love that surrounds you, and by Glob’s calculator, they will surround you, too.
It’s a big world, and I’m grateful that I was taught¬†not to limit it, superficially (race, religion, gender identity, hair cut, boxers vs briefs).
My whole life, I’ve loved the idea of the melting pot, all of us coming together. But that’s not the reality.
I had to learn myself to limit the artificial, because it inevitably hides the darkest of depths that will cause harm to me and mine now that I’ve got a “delicate disposition” (GLOBDAMMIT.)
My heart aches for those lost from this existence, but they’ve made their mark on me, strengthening my empathy, teaching me that I’m worth loving and not to waste time on negativity. Love is all you need.

I’m currently focused on a project we are involved in thanks to our dear old PG. So many things I’m grateful to him for, but the Durham family is high on the list.

If you want info on the project, there’s this party tomorrow night, in Greenbelt, Md.No charge and you get to see James’ new indie short film, “Thirst.” Clicky linky for info on the Facebook Event page and pix that various folks on the cast and crew have been taking, including pix taken by me. It’s amped up my desire for my photo project in time for Balticon, but who knows? I’m still trying to get the anthology done.

#HowDidWeNeverSeeMetricTogether #SweetSixteen #SilverLinings #BecausePGH
 Anyways, the lyrics from AZ lyrics, as usual.

“Nothing But Time”

Steal once
Pay twiceAdvice to heed
I won’t
I mightAdvice to heed
Steal once
Pay twice

Advice to heed
I won’t
I might

Advice to heed
Steal once
Pay twice

Advice to heed
I won’t
I might

Advice to heed
Steal once
Pay twice

Advice to heed
I won’t
I might

(Advice to heed)

You always said that love was not enough
Always on the move

(Advice to heed)

And even though we long to shut it up
We could never choose

(Advice to heed)

Now we know there’s nothing awaiting us
Better than the truth

(Advice to heed)

I wanted to be part of something
I got nothing but time
So the future is mine

(Advice to heed)

I wanted to be part of something
I got nothing but time
So the future is mine

(Advice to heed)

I wanted to be part of something
I got nothing but time
So the future is mine

Modern Love by David Bowie, Video & Lyrics

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Hauntings, Music, Whining


Chooch’s shuffle-fu today has been fierce. We’re working on stuff and planning on stuff and waiting on stuff, and this song came on and stopped me cold.
It’s not my favorite era of David Bowie’s, and I didn’t even know I knew all of the lyrics until I found myself shout-singing along. And crying.

Somehow I thought he’d always be there to shake things up and¬†break himself (and those of us along for the ride) out of whatever category¬†people have relegated him (us) to, every decade or so.

I have not opened his final album¬†yet. Too soon. I am still only encountering “Bowie in the wild,” via library shuffle or radio or movies. (Dear Gods I never realized how many movies used his music.)

For many reasons, it hit me really hard –I’m still in denial that our Ziggy Stardust is gone; personal stuff and goings on; and, did I mention I’m in denial that he’s gone?


David Bowie
Modern Love
Lyrics from AZLyrics

I know when to go out
And when to stay in
Get things done [spoken]

I catch a paper boy
But things don’t really change
I’m standing in the wind
But I never wave bye-bye

But I try
I try

There’s no sign of life
It’s just the power to charm
I’m lying in the rain
But I never wave bye-bye

But I try
I try

Never gonna fall for
Modern Love
Walks beside me
Modern Love
Walks on by
Modern Love
Gets me to the Church on Time

Church on Time
Terrifies me
Church on Time
Makes me party
Church on Time
Puts my trust in God and Man
God and Man
No confessions
God and Man
No religion
God and Man
Don’t believe
in Modern Love

Grampy, Little Bear, and My Ban On Baby Boomer Targeted Articles

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Too Long For Twitter
Grampy and Little Bear, on LB's First Birthday in April in Texas.

Grampy and Little Bear, on LB’s First Birthday in April in Texas.

First,¬†the formatting on my WordPress stuff needs updating after things settle down. I’ve never changed it from the original lotus design from 2010. It looks like shite in the browser and the mobile too, I’m guessing.
I’m really struggling with overlay at the top of the post, so I’m dropping in this adorable snap of my wondrous second of husband Chooch Schubert and my magical GrandSon, Codename Little Bear, from his first birthday in April 2016, while visiting he and his parents in Texas and helping them move in to their own¬†place.

Second, I’ve been reading through an intentionally broad spectrum of political/current event articles* as much as I can over recent months. Until recently, I followed all the candidates on Facebook, to ensure I understood the persona they had whipped up for us to vote for in the election.

I was reading what the lone red candidate posted along with what Bernie Sanders posted, and the other final half dozen or so, until they dropped out or until I gave up on them as a viable candidate.  I now only follow Bernie and the other blue candidate.

I know all I want to know about that other candidate and I was left angry and¬†sad, so I called “uncle” and don’t follow him anymore. *covers ears*closes eyes* You have no power over me. LA LA¬†LA. Hopefully you never will. LALALA.

The tv news is annoyingly laced with opinions. I just want facts, simply told, so I started searching online when I could.

I¬†think the biggest surprises¬†was the¬†number of articles applauding Baby Boomers (and older) for holding on to “traditional values” instead of becoming zombies like everyone younger than them has become in our wonderful country.

Hilarious, right?

The relevant articles vaguely point their fickle fingers of blame for society failures on younger citizens (65 or younger, I guess?) Nothing is actually reported, so the news items were incorrectly flagged. They were opinion pieces that were entirely effective in page interactions. In some cases, hundreds of comments on them, not counting facebook likes or shares.

To my eye, the more vague, the more comments of agreement it would get. As if, in my non-scientific, loopy newsing, the less specifics given, the more it was cheered.

Horrifying, right?

And as always. the true horrors of society lies in the misspells, missing words, exclamation marks, trailing ellipses everywhere instead of where they make sense, name calling, judgment, and a lack of responsibility and/or blame after being in charge for decades, right in the comments. As if 1 + 1 does not equal 2, almost. Many times, I downright struggled very hard to make sense of the twisting logic, even when my brain was clear.

They paint different pix of how badly we young’uns have destroyed the country they built. They call us zombies because we aren’t smart enough to¬†do what they say anymore.¬†I guess they aren’t getting the perks they used to get from us all, while we struggle to help younger generations in our own struggles?

In my very small sampling, our elders are being encouraged to mock the very children that they conceived when they banged without birth control; that they raised, and that they taught values; ethics; and parenting.

It’s been awhile, buuuut¬†if biology works the way I remember, they¬†raised us; they¬†taught us ethics;¬†we parent by their¬†example, except for what we choose to improve/do differently due to #ChildhoodPTSDAmIRite? #EveryoneHasIt

Cause and effect, they taught us that, too.

And they laugh at us for turning out the way they, and society as a whole, taught us to be?

And then mock us for not listening to them? (ESCAPE CLAUSE: People planning to vote against environmental and economic interests of themselves and their children now makes sense¬†to me, at least. We’ve been told, by our elders, to always respect your elders.)

I guess I’d feel hurt if I didn’t already know the info in¬†the blog post / news article was discredited, if the comments were legible, and/or make sense, or if in any way they were they plausible¬†in an realm of possibility.
It’s spin-control, or my brain is more than broken trying to logic it. Either way, I yield. Uncle. Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night. Because I don’t think any of it was/is intentional.

We’re all just winging it. Aren’t we? That’s the American Dream now, to survive with your baby chicks, without a net.

OF NOTE¬†– I call bullshit on trying to distance myself from blame by pointing at the next generation. ¬†There are millions of pages for you to express that on, that will tremendously agree with you. Go there if you gotta bust on the 25-ish¬†and unders. I delete without hesitation ūüėÄ
Translation, if this turns into more insults for “Millenials,” I may¬†delete without comment.
Hypocritical? Sure.
But I don’t care. I’ve heard enough of it. They’re just trying to survive the world we’re giving them.
Instead, let’s take an honest look at the causes of what we face, take accountability (myself included) for the mess,¬†learn¬†from¬†the mistakes of the people that have been voting and leading our country for the last bit of American history because of out-of-norms birth rate handing most decision-making to their whims.
I’m disappointed in myself and my own generation for not having improved things for future generations and I apologize often.
But where has any of that gotten us?
Simply read the news for that answer.
So come on, Gen X and younger.
Let’s enter this election with both feet.
Determine long-term¬†impacts, because we’re dying younger and younger we’re taking the planet with us. (My guess¬†is due to¬†short-term¬†profits somewhere.)
Decide for yourself what makes sense to your life as an American Citizen, because you can’t just¬†move to Canada.¬†They know we¬†made this mess, and they won’t take us. (They have standards, too.)
If you are a parent, you are compelled to be more vigilant to protect the country that you’ll leave to your child.
If you’re a grandparent, you are doubly accountable.
Spread the word, respectfully.
Don’t waste your time on trolls.
Whether people agree with you or not, hopefully they’ll become engaged.
Not everyone in your life should be friended with you in Facebook.
Also, don’t end relationships that you wouldn’t have ended in real life over a political or religious difference in social media.
If someone else does it to you, don’t waste any tears, it’s to your benefit. Every time.
And always remember and never forget —- we get the government we deserve.
Especially if you don’t vote.
So, you know, vote.

*Blogs, online “news” sites, and newspaper articles over the last few weeks. I have no links to cite because I ended up rage quitting and won’t go through history for them. Why? Cuz this is my opinion blog and nothing else. #Neener
Besides, I learned quickly to read via incognito because it was impacting my Bacon/Spam/Whatever in a disturbing way.

Today, A Puscifist

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: /rant/, Music, No Whining, Whining

Cradle to grave, every day of my life I’m a pacifist. But today I’m a Puscifist, thanks to Chooch sharing a new fave song.

I keep things on the bright side and assume the best of people I meet, regardless of their reputation. It often results in great times and greater friendships. But I’m also often mistaking people wanting something from me as being the beginning, or continuation, of a true friendship. I won’t let clown shoes¬†change my attitude, zero bad apples will change my hope in humanity.

But today, I less than three Puscifer soooo hard for again making sense of my confusion (and hurt and misrepresentations of me and others, resulting in feelings of shame and guilt) and giving it a voice.

I have such a hard time giving up on people, no matter how shitty they treat me or lie or use passive aggression like a weapon, knowing that it cuts me deeper than most because of my neurological challenges.
Once in my heart, always in my heart, sadly.
But I’m working on it since it’s plain stupid and is¬†keeping me depleted and unable to explore beneficial possibilities.

At the very least, I’m “untethering” from the ones that are detrimental¬†to my health/stress.

So, things to remember with me…
…just because the lies or harsh words aren’t knives or bullets, they still¬†cut deeply and/or can¬†bleed for a long time;
…just because you didn’t say it to my face, it doesn’t mean I¬†don’t know;
…just because I’ve kept your secrets so far, know that¬†your treatment of me and mine can¬†change that;
…just because I’ve taken the high road, it doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten how different our morals are;
…just because I stood by you in dark times, it doesn’t mean I will tolerate childish punishments for being a reminder of those same times;
…just because I’m above smacking your face, don’t mistake me for being weak.
#BeyondPainCranky #PainStabby #NotToday


“The Remedy”
Lyrics at


Mother’s Day Eve

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Too Long For Twitter, Whining
I had a really long rant about stuff I didn’t get to do or can’t do. Actually just a list of stuff I can’t do, along with bitching and complaints only slightly above a child’s tantrum. I deleted it because while it’s true but really about something else. This time I caught it the night before, first time ever.
It’s pre-Mother’s Day letdown and¬†
I’m missing my Mom. She remains unmatched as the greatest teacher, cheerleader, disciplinarian, role model, muse, bar-setter, inspiration, square-in-the-ass kicker, then-unknown-filter, unabashed critic and unrelenting fan that I ever had or will have, because it was only possible from her, because she was uniquely MY Mom. It’s strange, but she must be different, I think, from my brother’s Mom or my Sister’s Mom, even.¬†Different ages and experience levels (since we weren’t born triplets as triplets, but rather, over 12 years span) mean we had different versions of her growing as we did.
What I do know¬†from my experience is that there’s no “*ding* You’re A Parent Now,” stage. You constantly learn and evolve, and¬†I’m so very grateful for the version of her that I had, although I miss one or two aspects my siblings had. But that’s how things go, and I really wouldn’t change a moment with her. (Or against her, we had some doozy fights, dontchaknow!)
But lately, it’s getting harder and harder when I see her in the mirror and hear her voice come out of my mouth. I literally startle, sometimes, although I’ve heard that I look like her my entire life and should be used to it. I look like her, but I can’t do things like I used to, or like she used to, so it’s like a bait and switch. I keep having to lower expectations on myself, which then makes me see disappointment, which makes me feel like shit. It’s a fun cycle, all just because I looked in the mirror and remember her and all she did.¬†
It makes me reflect on relationships and their resulting status. Am I too much of a reminder of her to some? I mean, I am for myself, so why not? And is that a larger version of what’s happened in other unrelated, now-dead relationships? Do I remind them of someone or some thing that has changed? I’m finding that standing by people during their darkest times means you sometimes get associated and cast out with it. I’m praying I haven’t done that to anyone that sincerely wanted to continue a genuine relationship, in a way that takes me as I am today, not how I was 30 or 20 or 10 or 5 years ago. Or how they expect me to be.¬†
And in spite of our best efforts, we still live too far from hubby’s Mom to be able to dump my¬†excess love on her like a confetti and glitter glue eruption. And now our daughter-in-law lives 2,000 miles away, so same thing there.

So I fill the time with making plans and planting fun things on the path ahead to make the now seem less dark with that fun that shimmering, just ahead. And then I find myself overwhelmed again with details and a sense of failure, even if it was a success.So for those that have a muse, be kind to her. It sucks when your brain is always working and putting out ideas for other people to use and claim, the only downside being we have no real sense of accomplishment. If the two things seem unrelated, please attribute it to the influence of my Mom, constantly in motion, constantly on the prowl for something to make another person smile.

Cyber hugs and love to all those that are missing her, a parent or loved one as we try to survive¬†the milestone/reminder in one piece. I think this is the 10th without Mom, but so much crumbled since then, I don’t think I want to know for sure. If it’s your first, know that there is a special prayer I will make to my special angel. In my experience, the first is the worst. I couldn’t even really feel it then, I was in so many pieces, even as a grown-ass woman.

Mom loved my enough during her life to last me a lifetime, and is still carrying me through dark times, just like I said they would.¬†And her fiery spirit lives on in me, her other children and her Grandkids. There’s even some sass that looks familiar from the Great-grandkids,¬†which is¬†downright delightful.


My Occasional Steed – A Wheelchair

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Health, Soulful, Too Long For Twitter

It feels weird to make an announcement post of this, and it’s taken me days to write somewhat coherently (still fighting cooties), but I’m pushing publish as is. Apologies to thems that want one, but I’d rather do it this way than do it personally or have anyone surprised or worried, and have to console them, because that’s not what this is about.

It’s about accepting a tool¬†and empowering myself with it, as I face an arduous drive to visit family in Texas and enjoying it as fully as physically possible.

But, you know me, it’s really about chasing giggles and my refusal to stop when my body fails but otherwise am well enough to go. And since I’m currently fighting cooties and feeling like an exposed raw nerve, I may as well be transparent before I change my mind, in case it helps someone else someday, somehow.

Similar to my previous post about using a walker at home, I’m not doing this until I feel like I have to, but with my health issues, including Fibromyalgia, I’ve long¬†relied on wheelchairs at arrival gates at airports for the ability to get in motion faster. Being seated for the length of a flight with the other hazards to be navigated, I struggled and it slowed us down, so I started utilizing a provided wheelchair to stay out of the way of others and to make it to the next gate on time.* As health issues fluctuated, it’s become a tool I use with less hesitation and with Balticon coming…

So, last Labor Day weekend, 2015, I was in bad physical shape with lots of pain. I was also unwilling to miss out on a planned trip to the National Zoo, however, with family and dear friends. My choices were to either miss out and stay in bed OR swallow my pride and use a wheelchair loaned to me recently by dear friend, Lisa.

Our son, his wife, and their son¬†were moving away the next month and I just didn’t want to miss a second with them. It was a glorious and happy, yet inconvenient day. And spending that time seated allowed me to physically feel well enough to attend a friend’s birthday celebration the next day, where Chooch and I introduced our grandson to friends that hadn’t met him yet. Although migraine stuff made me miss some of it, but, hey I was there! But I was embarrassed and it was so inconvenient for Chooch and the rest that I chose to kind of forget about it.

Until visiting friends earlier this month beyond The Wall, aka, the Canadian border. It was a delayed November anniversary prezzie to each other, delayed for passports and the promise of spring. We had stuff we wanted to see, but mainly visit with old and new friends we don’t often (or ever!) see in a less-chaotic-than-Balticon setting.¬†We arrived Friday and did a bit of walking but retired early for recovery and fun the next day. I was fighting neurological stuff on Saturday until later in the evening when the physical pain and intense fatigue was hitting hard. We collapsed as soon as possible, but it was clear I pushed too hard while distracted with Niagara Falls, Toronto, a casino, a FrankenBurger King, butterflies, poutine, a romp through a Hollywood wax museum, but mainly enjoying our small group vibes in Buffalo + Canada to the point of addiction. They were all so kind and cautious about my health issues that it made them even more irresistible.

We had plans on¬†Sunday to go to an aquarium, a lifelong passion¬†of mine. It’s a shared passion and Chooch and I¬†visit in every city,¬†and drag along kids, whenever possible. But I found myself unable to walk beyond minimal needs after the excursions the days before, essentially because of my refusal to halt them earlier. I did the usual triage, heavy meds and leg elevation and soaks back at the hotel, but my body simply needed more recovery time before doing any walking and I was facing a day alone in the hotel room. In bed again, just a different place. Chooch would have offered to stay but I’d have kicked him out.

I was pretty devastated, so when it finally occurred to me, I scrambled to the Ripley’s Aquarium in Toronto website and yes, they lend wheelchairs for free on a first come, first serve basis. We weren’t even sure there would be a wheelchair available until we arrived and I really had no back up plan, other than napping in the car, but I was so swiftly and kindly accommodated that I only remember it as a blur of kindness until I found myself just inside the entrance – warm, seated comfortably with Chooch in front of the first sea life display as friends Nutty and Tek arrived. They’d had very little warning of my situation, but I know they are utterly accepting of my disabilities, and they were more kind and patient with the inherent inconvenience and delays.

I chose to go to the aquarium and risk embarrassment (few wheelchair riders seem to have cotton candy colored hair apparently, so I really stand out!) and am now choosing to share more pix, to show what I look like when in a chair and that I’m fine!¬†¬†But more importantly, to show what I gain when I choose to swing from the chandeliers by bracing for stares and inconveniencing the HELL out of those that let me.

FACT: When you’re this age and this size, many adults assume you’re being lazy. It’s why I never go to the store if I need an electric cart. Nope. Parking in handicapped spots, legally, is bad enough.

But since I handily put away fears in face to face interactions, with family, friends, strangers and their kids, I’m also putting aside¬†fear of ridicule by or accusations of sympathy and attention seeking. Becoming disabled at 40 with an invisible illness has been quite educational in teaching that no matter how intelligent, respected and seemingly kind people can be, in real life, that’s not always the case. Nothing stings quite as badly as when it’s someone I care about, but time heals all wounds, so don’t waste any more of my time if that’s your opinion. #HarshlyWorded? Can’t tell, #PainCranky.

A wheelchair won’t work every time to get me where I want/need to be, and that’s okay. I know I reach for every brass ring, and if others doubt that, I just will not waste energy on defending myself further.

I also hereby affirm that¬†I stand by the pinky swear to a specific few about what to do if I find myself only mobile via a scooter thingy. A random sampling of statistics seem to show that for chronic conditions, once you get in, you don’t gain back full mobility again. Remind me to fight if I ever forget, but don’t judge me for using this tool, only as needed, I promise. *raises pinky* #YouKnowWhoYouAre

Clearly, it was a big deal for me, so¬†I’m getting my own travel¬†chair in case of need, to make it more possible for me to be out of my room and enjoy the special bonding time with far flung friends. Especially at the new, larger, more spread out convention hotel. If anyone has recommends for a lightweight travel wheelchair, plz and thank you link in the comments.

Here’s me, having no regrets, with wonderful people, out in the light of day. #NoShame #NoSadness #SilverLinings #ExtendedGiggleChasing

Click on the image below to go to the full Flickr album, if you like. That’s where the good stuff is… yup, my grandson at five months old, last Labor Day weekend at the zoo.

Giggles on Wheels

*For those that may be now considering a wheelchair for travel, I’m writing another post with my views in the next few days.

Memories with Sara

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Family
Life changed direction and we grew apart. My memory sucks and looking at¬†pictures is breaking me, so instead I’ll share memories on constant loop in my mind since last night.
Simply put, verbs from when we were young, and from when we were sisters and life stretched out like infinity in front of us.
  • Sharing eyeliner and makeup tips in the locker room after gym class.
  • Crushing on the same boy in high school.¬†I can’t even remember his name or what he looked like.
  • Reconnecting after separately moving halfway across the country, closer than ever before.
  • Standing as a Feminist¬†with a captial ‘F.’ You were the¬†first person my age (early 20’s) to loudly proclaim it, and until then, I didn’t know you could just do that. I thought Gloria Steinem had to induct you or something.
  • Being the only¬†person who would go see Henry Rollins’ spoken word show with me at DC Space in the late ’80s. You didn’t even like him then, you just knew how badly I wanted to go.
  • Overcoming¬†the overturned¬†Big Gulp all over our laps on the drive from Manassas. We decided we were women that put experience over appearance and went anyways.
  • Encouraging me, even after all that and the departure delay it meant that night, me to walk up to Henry after that show and talk to him and get him to sign books. I think it was my first artist moment and remains a favorite.
  • Being pen pals while away you were¬†away at college because Facebook didn’t exist yet. We called too, but didn’t we have great fun in finding/sending silly cards?
  • Ganging up on me, along with my Mom, as we crawled¬†our tortured way through DC and rush hour traffic in a soft-top Jeep Wrangler during a horrible rainstorm.¬†Y’all wouldn’t stop until my crankiness finally snapped and I cussed you both out. When Mom said, “Well, bitch, bitch bitch, no one likes you,” we all started laughing and couldn’t stop for the whole ride home. I finally stopped caring about how late we were and we had such a great time, as literally no other trio could have done.
  • Surviving that one special first diaper change together, resulting¬†in us both in tears on the floor laughing and crying because it wouldn’t STOP.
  • Laughing¬†too loudly, as ever, on a harrowing road trip¬†to Maine in a blizzard at night.
  • Using¬†a¬†cassette case on that trip to scrape snow from the¬†windshield, without gloves.
  • Learning from stupid shit like that¬†on¬†how to be prepared and a bit more grown-up.
  • Loving all life, animal or human of any designation.
  • Sharing that love, ever so gently, with a fuzzy caterpillar found on a tree with the birthday boy and cousins. It made the mountain of gifts at the child’s birthday party invisible, during¬†that magical time.
  • Teaching¬†respect for life, by just as gently returning that caterpillar to where he was found, and explaining why you did so to the children listening so intently.
  • Making memories as you made gifts of homemade cinnamon/sugar butter as a kid’s activity.
  • Spending 3 hours in traffic to show up and take me out for ice cream on my birthday one year, just cuz you loved me and said I deserved spoiling and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
  • Comforting, with love and laughter, as my Mom fought her first battle against cancer.
  • Holding my sons in hospital, shortly after their births, instantly and forever an amazing and devoted aunt from when you first gazed on them.
  • Riding, your whole life, on the backs of horses you loved so much.¬†The love and peace and special smile that would spread across your face when¬†nuzzling was¬†enchanting to watch.
  • Singing, louder than the stereo turned all the way up with the windows down.¬†The¬†song below sprang to mind and sounded so sweet with¬†your voice¬†that¬†I won’t seek a meaningful song or read the lyrics of the one below for deeper meaning.
¬†I’m so¬†grateful of all the other verbs, nouns, and undefinables that we shared, all those years ago.
Rest easy¬†knowing you’ll¬†never be forgotten and will always be missed and loved.¬†Even with my failing memory, it’s simply not possible, darling one.


A Too Wordy Response to a Facebook Comment on “Googling It”

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Twitter/Facebook

This morning, I indulged in vague booking, to ensure that people not following an exchange know my rules for Facebook interactions. I was startled by a comment, but must comment out of fairness of the question. After two hours since starting my response, and looking at the length, I decided to make it a blog post. Who knows, maybe someone can relate or get a peek behind and invisible disability and accessibility entitlement.

My original vaguebook:

When you ask someone for links to unheard claims they’ve made to you, but they won’t provide them because they’re above doing research for you to simply dismiss. Guess it’s not as clearly provable as the first statement indicated. I assumed it was info sharing, my bad. I wouldn’t ask for links if I don’t want them, but Grump supporters have trouble providing them. Interesting problem.But wow, such a timesaver! I won’t exert any effort into googling it since it’s not important to the person that made the claim, plus we clearly support different ideals for the country we share. If it were so truly important and relevant, why not shout it from the roof tops by linking to it?

FWIW, I follow each of the remaining candidates on FB in the race, and in addition, Chooch ensures I’m very well-informed. And thanks to my Mom, I’m not a pussy about my opinion WHEN I decide to share it. The combination of the two makes me impatient with speculation being named as fact, and being talked down or insulted into silence by anyone.
heart emoticon

Shay commented, “But… I’ve asked you for links to prove something you posted and you’ve said no. How is that different?”
My response:
This is hard to explain without being accused (not by you!) of playing the pity card.

But you asked an honest question and my meds have kicked in (LOL), so I will be honest in response.
Just remember that I do not easily discuss this part and am sensitive on the subject, after suffering much brainy/scholarly elitism and shunning. Be honest in response, but not mean, please.
The short answer: is that the person could have easily¬†Googled and linked, but choose not to, reportedly on principle, while¬†I cannot Google easily with reliable results to know if we’re even talking about the same concepts. And my timeline is the best way to see where my opinion comes from and frequently, I can’t help beyond what I’ve already linked. Or maybe that day I was cranky about something totally unrelated and snapped at you unfairly.
The long answer:
I publicly admit that constantly lowering the perceived intelligence bar is a true¬†struggle for me, as I continue to go through different health issues and treatment attempts. They impact my comprehension, retention and other fun stuff. But I used to be intelligent, quick-witted and confident about it. My Google Fu was high, in those days. I loath asking for help and would find the answer myself if at all possible. “Beauty is only skin deep, but¬†I’ll always have my mind,” I’d say to my overweight body. In fact, I didn’t discover I was strong in accounting, just like my Mom, until shortly before I lost that same strength. Just long enough to fully miss it, by even daring to dream of being a CPA some day. I didn’t appreciate it enough while I had it, because no one wants to face the possibility of what I have or worse -Alzheimer’s or dementia. For example,¬†I spend half an hour writing something the length of the original post, with many re-reads. And I recently discovered that I attempted college in 2012, only because of my student loan history. I kinda remember what an instructor looked like, but not the name of the class(es?).

My mind is not on my side any longer. My memory is bizarre in its retention. I used to be logical and analytical and detailed and factual. Now I’m a blur trying to express things in a different language that I’m still working at learning to use effectively.¬†
I’m even fighting an anxiety attack for fear of inaccurately expressing myself and causing offense where I don’t mean it, while fighting a screaming sense of being under attack. But I don’t think you’re like that, so bear with me.¬†
That’s not even mentioning the body issues¬†or the other neurological symptoms that I have, primarily chronic intense pain and/or the resulting drugged stupor, with all the possibilities in-between in flux.

I’ve spent years fighting my disabilities and so far I’ve lost. I’m getting new specialists and have not nor will I ever stop seeking my “silver bullet,” but I have to come to terms with what my current reality is and grieve it. The silver lining is that it’s only pain and hopefully not degenerative or life shortening, other than not being able to run or have cardio exercise resulting in¬†gaining back weight.
I have spent years in denial as to the width and breadth of the impact as I continue to try and find a way to function since onset in 2009. But the last years have crystallized things such that I simply don’t have that luxury anymore. I have to come to terms after I assess what that means.
So, I’ve spent¬†some time¬†grieving what I can no longer deny. I’m physically disabled my brain function¬†is impacted. I can wield medication, caffeine, sugar and adrenaline to keep going with varying results. The same things happens ever ytime I stop moving though. I can’t move again until Recovery happens and I never know how long that will take. Currently stuck in bed, my head pain is primarily TMJ and my head is fairly clear from body pain meds, hence the ability to find words but¬†there are¬†too many of them. ūüėȬ†
One of my work-arounds is that I need visuals and literal statements. It’s why my photo and video captures and Facebook check-ins have taken such a huge increase. I sincerely panic because I don’t know if I’ll remember that moment later. So, I don’t read summaries or opinions unless I struggle with understanding, because I need the original poster’s link to verify the source and its literal wording. I don’t want to confuse other opinions with facts, I’ll confuse them well enough with my own opinions, thank you very much.
An example of a work-around to my frequent inability to do my own research: I am blessed to have a husband that spreadsheets out even mildly complex data to help me with our decision-making. He doesn’t tell me what to think, he gives me the information that lets me draw my own conclusion.¬†
He does that¬†partly for himself, as a data junkie, but the amount of detail is unnecessary for him because he remembers things easily.¬†I don’t. (This election cycle’s spreadsheet will be very interesting.)¬†And because he knows that I’m still in here¬†and he still (somehow, lol) loves me, he feeds my mind in a way that keeps it thriving.
He knows that I’m fighting to take in data — I can’t read dead tree books NOR can I work on computer screens for more than an ever-changing chunk of time with recovery time between. For the podcast we do, he only needs to watch the episode twice: once for pure enjoyment and again for show prompts. Meanwhile, I watch it anywhere from 2 to 5 times, depending on my health¬†and¬†the violence/emotional stress of the episode. I have to rewatch the previous season the week before the new season premiere to remember what the hell happened. I used to also listen to every episode we posted, so I wouldn’t be able to repeat myself, but haven’t been able to track that for at least 3 seasons. I frequently forget seeing entire movies and games played, but for all the pix I take.¬†
I’m fighting to process data, since my thought processes now seem to be similar to my understanding of ADD. I even bought a recommended voice to text software to help with communication after a disastrous period of auto correct and dexterity fail. I added the app to my phone and then tried to install the software on my laptop,¬†but struggle with such things and haven’t gotten far in the year + since I bought it.
I’m fighting to express myself, partly because of distortion filters that everyone has, but that I struggle desperately against. I also acknowledge that they are there, which makes me impatient with those¬†that refuse to manage their own and/or their expectations of me as I continually manage my own expectations of others, based on the chaos in their own lives.
I struggle immensely with needing to be¬†“accommodated” for my disabilities, but I have a fresh perspective after seeing how Canada’s society views me as opposed to the US after our visit this last weekend -without scorn, primarily. I paid it forward with kindness for others when I was of full health, and our society isn’t as kind as you’d think, on the daily. ¬†

I even struggle when the Fibromyalgia “fog” rolls in¬†to¬†make the simplest of choices. I have zero decisions or clear thoughts to give and as I was reminded this weekend, I shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed because of it. The medications make it worse. I simply have to allow myself to ask for help, accept it if I need it when it’s offered, or in this specific¬†case in Facebook, specific information. But when I do and I then get slammed for being lazy and closed-minded, it really stings and I react accordingly.¬†

In summary and after too-much explanation without a formal structure, that has taken me over three hours, off and on, to type, the difference is that I was asking for information and he denied it to me. The word entitlement comes to mind, but it may or may not apply.

So I can’t easily Google a few phrases with any hope of finding that specific point. I’m to remind myself that some people can’t calculate a tip in their head and I usually still can.

It’s just that I’m exhausted from callousness and accessibility elitism. I won’t explain myself¬†to the person, either. The response is moot, as I can’t rely on my interpretation of it, so it‘s lose/lose and I’m not trying to shit on anyone else’s path, essentially.¬†#IAdmitIHaveDistortionFilters #ButIAmAlsoWorkingOnIt #Thhhhhppbbbt

Specifically in my post, when I said, “I won‚Äôt exert any effort into googling it since it‚Äôs not important to the person that made the claim,” it was because that can turn into a huuuuge¬†chunk of time for me and I won’t spend it there if it requires my attention greater than the resulting information could¬†possibly impact. (Does that make sense?) So many offensive things have been done by candidates, even if it were true, it doesn’t come close to the damage done by Republicans against the interests minorities of any kind.
Sidebar:¬†it’s especially hard to swallow from people¬†in a minority under attacked. Hello? Ladies? Your vagina and uterus are being decided upon. Please make sure that your voice or your silence delivers the message you intend. <3

What I have said in sweeping general statements is only after I have cobbled together enough information thru extensive track-backs to original articles. I try to take great care in what I say because of gossip that’s gotten back to me and the unfair expectations on me. I’m gun-shy, but I say them because they are things I feel have been proven without me having to link to it, sometimes after posting the links previously. I use Facebook and other social media as a tool against isolation and depression and it’s not my job. It’s my tool for my specific use and¬†I won’t take the time or energy to go back and research for someone else that can do it far faster than I and without needing a break afterwards. I’m speaking literally, here. The assumption that I can do otherwise is poorly drawn, but likely my fault since I’ve been shamed into not speaking about the mental aspect of my health blahs.

And sometimes, it’s complete passion that blinds me to say something, right and/or wrong. When I catch it, I admit it. Girl, I say dumb stuff all the time. I’m FAR more edited on a keyboard, same as anyone, but I too talk out of my ass. It’s part of the human condition.

That said, I estimate that almost to a one, my conclusions are drawn from things I’ve previously shared. If I’m wrong, link to the right information or don’t waste my time with bored trolling. I’m sorry they’re bored, but they should find a charity to donate¬†their time to if they want to actually make a difference.

The disparity in level of effort isn’t considered and I¬†was¬†denied information.¬†I’m ok with that, since, as I see it, I have been and will be disregarded at some point again later anyways. You should note the difference between the response there and the response here. It’s based on personal interactions and my understanding of the differences between the intentions of you both. I have no regrets.

Aren’t you glad you asked, Shay? I hope it makes sense, I’m out of time to organize it better.¬†#Oops

Trans Women in the Ladies Room: A Welcome and a Survival Tip

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: /rant/, Too Long For Twitter


Trans Woman or Bigot

I saw this picture on Facebook and my post grew to too many words. Apparently¬†there’s still controversy over women using the ladies room, simply¬†because of how they obtained their feminine appearance.¬†I had such a visceral reaction, I had to get my milk crate out to stand on. *ahem*

HELL YES to this post and here’s why:
20-ish years ago, when I was a young mother at work one day, I was using the facilities when I noticed a hand mirror under the stall wall next to me.
Confused, I then noticed the hairy knuckles and bare feet in that stall and yelled. I was still foolishly trusting in those days and couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing, so I otherwise froze not knowing what to do.

 Luckily for me, when the pervert realized he was seen, he bolted instead of staying. He was probably gone before I felt safe enough to exit and run to my office to call the police, but definitely before the officers arrived. The location was a professional office building where I worked for a real estate office. Lots of foot traffic, and no one saw a shoe-less man running out of the building.

I never saw his face (or shoes!) so couldn’t pursue further. OR¬†determine if it was a co-worker or someone else that worked in the building daily, meaning it could easily happen again.

Ever since, I’ve assumed perverted men are in stalls next to me. It’s no big deal, just take an end stall and watch the shared wall. It’s never happened since then, which I know because my residual¬†fear¬†means that I watch closely. IMHO, you’d have to be perverted and/or dangerous to get off by violating a woman’s privacy to such an extent, and risking arrest, just to watch her pee or poop. Just…. beyond disgusting. And I’m watching out for them.

Meanwhile, no woman has ever¬†used the¬†mirror peek trick. ¬†I actually feel safer knowing there will be more women in the ladies room. It’s less of a chance for perverts to creeeeeeeeeeep around in there unnoticed.¬†
For those worried about their kids seeing something “inappropriate” if a trans person is in the bathroom, then why do you let them go alone in alone at all?
Don’t you worry about them having an experience similar to mine, at their young ages? Regardless of whether the¬†perpetrators¬†are culturally permitted in the restroom, or not? Please give it some thought.

To the trans ladies, I continue to welcome you! But please let this serve as warning to you of the dangers of being in the ladies room:

Be vigilant for your privacy and safety at all times, including the bathrooms, for you are now a part of what I think of as “The Prey” gender.¬†You will likely be targeted and victimized by some just because you are female¬†and “up for grabs.” I’m so sorry for that, because this nation¬†hasn’t done enough to lower the incidence of sexual assault against females.

Please, use your voice LOUDLY and don’t let anyone disrespect you. Even¬†those with good intentions.

For the Dudes
For offended males that I trust:
This isn’t about you, but it’s good for you to know about. I similarly warn young females about this and about never leaving a drink unattended and watching out for each other. Consider protecting those in need.
For other males that are offended:
Welcome to reality. Suck it up and be grateful that you are a part of what I call “The Predator” gender and don’t piss me off with stupid sexual comments. Know that I give you the gift of believing YOU aren’t one, and hope that now you know what some women suffer through just to get through a day of work. For 1/4 less than you likely make, but with¬†potential the sexual harassment gauntlet to run every day.

If you are one and know it:
GET YOURSELF HELP. You deserve a better life than the shit you are now doing, and your current/future victims deserve peace.
The emotional damage doesn’t end, and the world is hard enough to survive. Agreed?

What I Learned Today

Author: Vivid Muse  //  Category: Too Long For Twitter

I attempted college in 2012.
I was unable to read/retain/communicate the information.
I was unable to make it to a lot of the classes, I’m guessing because of migraines or dizziness.
I only know this because I just read it in something Chooch wrote.
I have zero recollection and don’t even know what the classes were.

It’s shit¬†like this that gives me peace when I get sad that our son and his family have moved far away.
I was already growing more and more limited in what I was able to do for him/them, as he is literally thriving and too heavy for me to lift, oftentimes.
Finding this out, in spite of not being on those types of meds any longer, has me even more grateful that he never came to any harm in my limited care.

Conclusion, silver linings are everywhere, if you look, tilt your head, and squint *just* so.

One last bottle for the road!