Sometimes I wonder if I truly want to be a famous author.
Of course it’s been my dream since I was a child. When other kids would run around at recess, I stayed on the side and wrote short stories. I lived in my imagination (and still do). But I wonder if success would take that love for writing away from me.
Hey everyone. I write a lot on here about my late fiance, Valerie. As some of you know, she passed away 3 years ago last month. I’m not going to talk about that today. I’m going to talk about Katie.
For the past 9 months, I’ve been dating a wonderful woman that I love very much. I never thought that I would fall in love again, but holy crap, I did.
I’m not much of a poet, but I took a shot at writing a poem for her for Valentine’s Day (spoiler: she liked it).
To break up the melodramatic crap, I’m adding dogs telling terrible jokes. Enjoy.
Hey, remember when I said I was gonna blog more often and interact with my followers? Well, my computer decided that it’s not gonna happen. The world conspires to fuck up our kool-aid.
My comp is still in the shop. I’m on a library computer right now (which means no awesome memes today). I want to reach out to you guys. I’ve been thinking some really deep thoughts (what’s so amazing about really deep thoughts?) but by the time I get my comp back, i’ll probably forget.
Grand Jury duty is almost done. That’s a major plus.
Time is almost up. Till next time,
Craiggers
I might be out of commission for a while. My computer has a “known issue” and will have to go back to the manufacturer for recall. I’m not going to send it until I get an external hard drive to save my work on. I’ll try to blog when I can.
BTW: I really wanted to post about Powerball. There’s a lot of stuff going around about how people are stupid for playing and don’t understand math. I get math, I still played. It had nothing to do with winning, it had to do with dreams. For two days I got to dream about winning 1.4 billion dollars. Isn’t that worth two dollars?
Also, it was my birthday yesterday. I turned 39. I’m fucking 39.
I’m also in a depressive cycle. I know that I am, because I’m spending my time lying down, staring at the ceiling, and sighing like a heartbroken teen. I suck.
Also known as “23 Annoyed People”
I am serving in a Grand Jury this month, and today was my first official day. It was interesting, but I think it’s gonna get old quickly.
There was no booty involved (although there was a very cute witness) but I wanted to come up with a catchy title.
Well, it’s the first blog post of the new year. I better make it a good one. Let’s start with some kitten hijinx.
I can never get enough of that.
First of all, I’d like to thank all of my followers, especially the new ones that joined in the past few months. Every time I get a email that says i have a new follower, my heart swells a little bit. Actually, it’s my head swelling, but I try to keep that in. I already have trouble finding hats.
I hope that I continue to entertain you this year, either through my website, or through my stories. Normally I’d throw in a link to a novel or two, but I’m showing restraint. Look at me, restraining all over the fucking place.
*Pseudo-Philosophy moment* The years turn around, and hopefully we change with them. Evolution is important, but sometimes we need a push. They’re not Resolutions, they’re Revolutions.
So here are my revolutions regarding the site. But first, a poofy dog action hero.
Still better than a Michael Bay movie.
There are other things that I’d like to do, but I don’t know what they are yet. You’ll be the second to know.
Ok, I’m done restraining myself. I can’t take it anymore. Buy The Watchmage of Old New York! It’s like The Dresden Files meets Gangs of New York meets American Gods meets Who Framed Roger Rabbit? meets Starsky and Hutch meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Doctor Strange meets…I dunno, but it’s damn good! You can buy it anywhere, but it’s easiest to post the Amazon link. Oh, and if you want to review it, I’ll give you a free copy. I can always use reviewers. Let me know, and we’ll talk.
Note that I didn’t plug Song of Simon. I figure that one shameless plug is enough…oh wait, how did that link get there?
I’ll end this with something funny to make up for the sales pitch.
Because I really don’t. Have a great day, and keep reading. I love you all, but not as much as the It’s Raining Tacos song. Sorry.
I hate being sick, but I love complaining about being sick. I know, I’m just reinforcing the stereotype that men are big babies when they’re sick. I don’t care, please make me some soup.
Christmas at Katie’s parents’ place went well. I think the tipping point was that their dog didn’t freak out on me. She didn’t even bark, and she’s a beagle. Usually the dog barks so much at strangers (or even people she knows) that they have to send her to doggie jail (upstairs). I guess she sensed my inner awesomocity. Not that she let me touch her or anything, but she did take a treat from me. I’ll call it a victory.
She’s also super cute. I love beagles.
Christmas is still a novelty for me, even though I’ve spent it with friends and girlfriends before. Jewish Christmas is what I’m used to, but ham and cookies are much better than Chinese food and movies…I can have Chinese anytime, and probably will today, because I’m siiiiiiiiiick (like that call back? Blog structure is structurey).
I somehow made it to my writers’ critique group. I missed the last session, and since I’m one of the pillars of the group, I felt that I had to go. We’re going through some major changed and have added a bunch of people. I’m concerned that we bit off more than we can chew (or slurp as a soup…did I mention that I’m sick) but it’s going well so far. We turned away a couple of people because they wanted to bring in screenplays instead of prose. There’s no way that we can handle screenplays (or poetry, for that matter). They didn’t realize that it’s a completely separate medium. I do think that our writers should read a couple of screenplays though. They have a lot of trouble with scenes.
I’m a little arrogant when it comes to this group. Except for a one or maybe two, I’m miles ahead of them. I’ve taken on more of a mentor/adviser role. I just don’t get the feedback I need. Everyone just tells me that my stories are great. It’s frustrating. I want people to hate it, so I can make it better
I hope that I get better for New Years. Did I mention that I’m sick? Because I’m sick.
*cough, cough, sneeze.*
Hey, awesome people: The Watchmage of Old New York is 99 cents on Amazon Kindle, but only until New Years! Take advantage of the deal and find your new favorite book. You won’t be disappointed.
Tomorrow would’ve been Val’s 38th birthday. It’s still her birthday, even though she’s not around to celebrate it anymore.
It’s been a while since I talked about her. It’s still hard.
Valerie was my girlfriend, serious enough that we both knew marriage was our future. She died suddenly on Jan 24th 2013, due to complications from medicine. I was the one that found her. I was planning to propose that night.
I hate the Myers-Briggs test. I especially hate when people try to describe themselves by their M-B profile. “I’m an ENTJ” or “I’m an INFP, and that means this that and blah blah blah.”
You are not an archetype. You are not an alignment (alignments are a tool, not a straitjacket. It said so right the D&D 2nd Edition Handbook). You are an amorphous blob of loves, hates, repulsions, delusions, and experiences. You are not a box. You are an oil spill reflecting swirled rainbows, and you cannot be contained.
I am a lucky person.
I have bipolar syndrome, and while it impairs my ability to hold a steady job (it’s why I freelance) I am still able to be a productive member of society. I’m proud of this. There are so many of us with disabilities that can’t, and part of that is because they can’t get treatment.
I consider myself an advocate for them…for us. There’s such a stigma around mental illness, and there shouldn’t be. It keeps people from getting the help that they need, and they suffer in silence. No one should have to suffer when there is treatment, and not because they’re afraid of what the world will think of them.
How many people suffer from PTSD and don’t get help? How about Depression? Anxiety? Drug and Alcohol Addiction? Borderline Personality Disorder? Rage Tendencies? We can help them if we allow them to speak up.
I was once homeless, sleeping in my car and on friends’ couches, staying up at night writing at diners. If it wasn’t for the Mental Health Association of Rockland County, I don’t know where i’d be. Thankfully they exist. I was lucky, but there isn’t enough help out there for everyone that needs it.
We need help. From you. From the government. From somebody! Think about how society would change if we treated all the mentally ill. Less homelessness, less addiction, more productive members of society. A better society.
More happiness.
That’s all anyone wants. Happiness. It’s elusive, slippery, but for some, completely unattainable. We can change that.
Speak up. Be heard. Don’t let the stigma keep you from getting treatment. And if you are perpetuating the stigma, realize that you are hurting–potentially killing–others, maybe even people you know.
If you need help:
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration (SAMHA)
casandersdotnet 