February 6, 2014

Where am I?

I hate writing stories. I have all of these great ideas for books and I just can't get it to flow the way I want. I can write about ideas and tangents all day. Hell, I even have. But starting a story with characters and moving them along a story line? It's like I'm broken. A writer who can't write a story. God it even sounds sad. I hate you. Hate. Ugh. Stupid computer. I'm supposed to be writing a book and I can barely start, and have no where to go. Post apocalyptic zombie hunter? Lost after 2 pages. Girl living on her wits in the woods? Hell I didn't even get a chance to introduce the character, I bored myself too fast. Now with half of a provocation I can read a bitch to filth from the top of her skank-face to the bottom of her gnarly ass hooves. For days... yes. Tell a story not based in truth, to just pull something magical out of my ass? MMMM not gonna happen. I spent years hearing about my potential, how I could do all of these magical and wonderful things with my life. I pissed a bunch of it away, between anger about my childhood and trying to survive. Drinking, drugs, late nights and the search for love all contributed to where I am. Where am I? That's a good question. Ground control to major Thom, you've really made the grade. Or something. Am I where I am in my dreams, sipping coffee next to an open window in Paris? Working a loom, making my art? Am I performing onstage in front of a sold out crowd? Or am I living in a trailer? One of hundreds of trailers, hallways with doors that only go one way. Is my life tripping over a black dog in the dark, hoping to find a bathroom? Hearing the cries of a small child, wondering whose baby that is and realizing it was mine? Where am I really? I sometimes feel like I live in an ethereal plane, halfway between this world and another. Another world, somewhat of my own design but there are things there, things not of any real world. Beyond human comprehension are these …creatures and feelings. Colors that do not exist here, melding and bleeding with plants and animals far beyond a surrealist painting. Perhaps I'm in the quiet forest of my youth, walking quietly so as to observe all that exists around me. Beauty and life breathing, quickening, all around me. Then the blare of an alarm clock screaming through my brain. I sit up, awake next to a man. I have pets to feed, a child to ready for school. Is this where I am? I turn on the coffee pot, light a cigarette. I look around. This is not seemingly Paris, this place of noises and needs. Birds, dog, cat, child, all with their morning noises. The man sleeps. What am I doing? How did I get in this place? As the coffee filters through my synopsis, the fog clears and I remember exactly how this place manifested itself. Be careful what you wish for, it won't end up the way you think. I wished for more time to work on my art and time to spend with my son. I ended up with a disease that makes it so I can't work, or really do anything but sleep and cry about half of the time. I should have wished to be independently wealthy. Being sick doesn’t pay the bills in this country. In fact, not much other than working for a corporation does around here. Corporations think for some reason that you should be reliable and able to show up and function when they schedule you, and that really isn't possible for me. So I'm a housewifeish for a man. The bills don't get paid on time or sometimes at all because restaurant work has fluctuating hours but there’s almost no makeup for it. Companies lie and promise promotions and raises but they don't follow through. You can threaten to quit, but they don't care. There's another person right behind you desperate to feed their family, they'll work for cheaper than you will. Who cares about the workers anymore? Not the people making the money, that's for sure. We've become a nation of faceless drones, statues. A representation of people is what we've become. There are so many of us. So many people in this world with nothing they can do. I want to move somewhere with a village. A village market where I can sell blankets and food I grow. Perhaps we wouldn't have much, but there wouldn't be so much pressure all of the time.

January 31, 2014

Walk away

He got busted.  My sweet child's worthless sperm donor was arrested, and I was thrilled.  "Finally!  Finally he will have to stand in court and explain why he's refusing to contribute to his child.  Finally he'll have to answer to running out on his flesh and blood and all of the other crimes he's committed."  But no, my local police department decided to let him out on bond.  Granted, I guess his mommy had to pay $3,500 ish to bail him out, but that's small consolation.  He's out on the streets, less than 24 hours later.  Child Support Enforcement found out he was incarcerated because I called them.  Hell the cops only found him because I called them and told them where to look.  So the state got paid and I got nothing.  Less than nothing, since the Sargent I talked to promised they would let me know if they arrested him and if he was released, and I got nothing.  Not really a surprise since the last time I talked to them I was told the only way I would be safe from him is if I went into hiding.  I shaved my head and moved out of state.  He is now $29,584 behind with no payment, and no apparent consequences.  He just gets arrested, bailed out, and runs off.  I probably won't hear anything until he gets popped for something else, but at this point I'm done.  I did my civic duty helping the cops, several times even.  I've gotten screwed over and lied to.  Good job, police department.  Also great job prosecution office that refused to charge him with kidnapping and beating me.  Now it's time to walk away.  It's been almost 2 years since I've talked to him.  I seriously thought he was dead.  Well if you don't hear from someone long enough they might be dead, and he had stopped calling me and asking me to leave my boyfriend.

So just walk away.

January 28, 2014

Drag Queen?

I am a Drag Queen. Yes, I am a Drag Queen. I am many things, including a biological female, mother, writer, lover, singer, queer, artist, and Drag Queen. Yes, I am in a relationship with a man so we will go into the queer thing later, but for now, we are focusing on the fabulous. I have gotten quite a bit of flack about identifying myself as such, but I feel it is no different than any other queen. I've been called a queer and a faggot, been threatened, been told I'm disgusting, wrong, and a liar just for being called/calling myself a Drag Queen. Even people in the gay community have told me I “can't” call myself that, simply because I was not born with a penis. Well good luck telling me what to do hunty. I like to think of myself as America's Premier Female on Female Impersonator. Which is to say, I look as much like a real woman as Cher. Are you ever going to run into Cher at the grocery store? No way shtupid! Now there unfortunately isn't a drag scene where I live, so it ends up a lot like performance art, it doesn't pay for shit. Now granted I have a lot of fun with it, but the best I get is free drinks. I got started with my version of drag basically in an effort to feel pretty, because I didn't anymore. For more details, check out the very awesome show I was on!

After I had my lovely son, my body... well, it didn't look the same. I was listening to random music videos on youtube, I ran across this gem.  I should mention here I had no clue who RuPaul was.


I loved it! I felt the same way watching this video that I did the first time I saw Naomi Campbell when I was a girl, the overwhelming jealousy and want/need to be them, or at least like them. Oh, well. I thought if you're not born like that I guess it just flat isn't in the cards. After the video I saw a link to RuPaul's Drag Race the TV show. I turned on season 1, episode 1. Find RuPaul's Drag Race Here! Vrooooom!

If you've never seen it, This will be a bit of a spoiler alert. Go watch it, then come back. No, I'm serious, I'll wait. Go!

Ok, in the beginning all of the ladies come in separately in full regalia, they do a small challenge, then they get out of drag. Until that point, I had no idea they were men. I actually thought it was a weird beauty pageant show. When I saw the transformation I was floored. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!?!? Those beautiful women with glitter, ballgowns, and perfect bodies WERE DUDES?!?!? I MUST INVESTIGATE FURTHER!!!!! Until that point, I'd always felt too fabulous to be defined as any one thing. I've found myself wishing at time that I had been born a gay man, because then I would know more about who I was and honestly some of my eccentricities would be more acceptable. Anyhoo, on this journey I've called myself a couple of different things, from my real name to a name my character at that time embodied, Coia Cuppcake. I was going for sweet, bubbly, nice. Basically the very things I generally lack. I feel another incarnation coming on. I've always felt like an amoeba of tie-dyed rainbow, edged in black lace. Maybe some fire too. I hate being defined by any word, or even a set of words, unless at least a couple of them are contradictory.  More on this later!  Tata for now!

January 14, 2014

Ferrets! Diesel Weasel!

Ferrets!  They're cute, they're neat, and they're exotic.  Still they end up in the shelter.  Why?  Well, a lot of people don't understand a ferret's needs and think of them as weird cats.  They require special care, and supervision.  They will burrow, and if not fixed can mark their territory.  They can also be loving, interesting family members.  A good overview of their needs can be found here.

Almost 500 ferrets are looking for homes right now on petfinder.  Look at this face!

 My name is Brody and Adrien and I are a pair. I'm the more roly-poly one and I do like to roll over a lot when I'm playing. They tell me it looks pretty funny, but, hey, I'm having a good time!  Adopt, don't shop is what we always say, you're saving a life! 

Now you're excited!  Look at the cutie fuzzface!  OOOoooooooh I want one!  (I know, that's what I said when I saw Brody.)  Here are some tips to keep in mind.

Getting a new fuzzy family member is just like getting into any new relationship.  Do your homework, and know what you're getting into before you do it.  Are ferrets the right pet for you?  First, according to Hug a Woozel, make sure it is legal to own a ferret in your area.  Just because you see them in a pet shop does not mean they are legal, when in doubt call your local animal control.  Ferrets can also be rather expensive for a small pets.  Their cages start in the hundreds of dollars, they are usually at least $100, and their veterinarian care can be pricy due to the fact that they are exotic.  They are intelligent creatures, and require toys and stimulus, plus food and fresh food.  This all adds up quickly.
I'm bored.  I think I'll make my own game out of eating a hole in every cereal box in the cupboard.  Wheee!


Ferrets are emotionally high maintenance and require a lot of time with their humans.  They need to be able to get out of their cages at the very least once a day.  Their cages need to be cleaned fairly often too, along with baths and grooming for the animals themselves.  For more information, please go here to find your local library, they have free books from professionals!

There's also a lot of ferret lover's groups on the internet!  We wanna check them out!

If you're looking for an interesting pet that will love and play with you all day long, the ferret may be right for you!  Inform yourself, and contacting rescues in your area is an awesome way to get answers to any questions you may have.
 
Taco and Belle

These guys can be seen here on Petango.

January 12, 2014

Career Mom

Having it all depends on what all you want.  Once you know what all you're looking for, you'll better know it when you see it.  Or have it.  I've heard a lot since I was little about how any woman can have it all if she tries hard enough, works hard enough.  Of course, they never tell you what "all" is.  There are vague ideas of babies and a full career, maybe some images of cookie-baking and making lots of money.  Now many women are feeling lied to and disillusioned after either working 90 hour weeks and not having enough time for sex much less babies, or having a few kids and realizing the job market and their skills don't line up to making enough money to cover the kids in daycare.  I wanted a child, and never really thought about the far reaching consequences because at the time, we were going to be married.  I was going to stay home with the kiddo and work on my writing while he worked whatever job.  We'd be married, have a house and a dog, and all of that picket fence stuff.  That whole plan fell apart when Douchecanoe went to prison but that is another story.  I had this idea about having a few babies, maybe 3, and traveling the world.  High finance, big business, big money.  That kind of thing.  Of course I would be able to watch my son take his first steps.  However, reality sets in.  Any woman that goes back to work 6 weeks after having a baby is a hard-core badass or a serious masochist.  Salute to you ladies, between the horrific things going on with my body, having a small human completely dependent on me, and the lack of sleep from all of those things plus, you know, life, I can't imagine trying to work on top of all of that. 

I digress.

My version of it all was working and being the breadwinner.  I had this ideal for almost a couple of months.  I was on track for promotion, even was looking at moving out of state.  Marcus was working part time but taking care of Tristyn.  And then I got sick.  Nice.  It turns out that I've had a condition called Gastroparesis my entire life, and a major abdominal infection made it so bad that now I can't work.  Sweeeeet.  So now I'm what I swore I would never be, a housewife and stay at home mom.  Instead of writing up reports and drawing up contracts, I see this:


video

As I Star Wars fan I do love the fact that my dog is part Wookie, but being a housewife is hard.  I never get that feeling of walking out of work and knowing that I don't have to look at anyone in that building for at least a day on my days off.  I don't get days off anymore.  My job gets tedious sometimes.  It happens.  But my having it all now means I get to write, and I have a chance to help my son.  So I do have it all, just not all I thought.  Its working though, mostly.  This place I'm at in my life seems to be working better than anything else I can think of, or really any other time in my life.

Let's end with a song!
























































































































January 10, 2014

Bitey is a word because I said it is

I just realized something.  Here I lie in bed, waking up and within seconds I'm picking thru my brain trying to figure out what all needs to happen today.  Then i think about all of the things that needed done yesterday that I never finished.  Suddenly I realized that in order to get everything done that needs to happen and to catch up, also maybe do something I actually want to do ill have to turn into Wonder Woman and not sleep for at least a week.  Once upon a time I even had the ability to do that.  I was going to school, running keeping a clean house, and raising my son by myself.  Also I was watching my niece full time after the piece of crap that birthed her ran off.  Maybe because I was single and in good health?  I have neither of those going for me now.  I can't even sell my plasma.  I sometimes feel that don't really even contribute to my own home.  Its a good day when I can both do the dishes and clean off the kitchen table.  Then I have time to think about how I haven't folded laundry in 2 weeks and what am I going to feed these people?  How can I devote myself to writing and crochet when my house is a fricken mess and I can't walk thru my bathroom without wondering if I'm walking thru a laundry basket.  I found my kitchen table yesterday, roasted a turkey, and made a full family dinner out of it.  I was up at 5am this morning, wishing I was dead.  I guess hefting a dutch oven with a 15 lb turkey in and out of the oven a couple of times really did me in.  Now I have to worry about money.  My ex has disappeared off the map again, and there goes any hope I had of ever getting child support for my son. This clip shows what I would like to do about it, or at least have fantasized about once or twice.  Maybe.




The cops that have been bothering me since he went underground arrested and immediately released him.  I was assured that if the authorities in either Wyoming or Colorado found him he would be arrested and have a court date for the more than $27,000 he owes, but they arrested him for a misdemeanor and released him almost instantly.  I was also promised by the detective I spoke with that they would notify me if they found him, and also if he were released.  I found out from the local paper.  In fact, the only reason that the Child Support Enforcement office knew he had been arrested was I called them.  When they called the jail four days later, he wasn't there anymore.  Shocker.  Those morons never went after him for support until after he moved to Colorado two years ago.  At this rate, he'll be dead before they find him.  Ugh.

Onward and upward!  I can't dwell on this stuff anymore.  Not only is it stressing me out with no result, but I find myself becoming angry and bitey to the people around me.  I have to focus on what I can do, and work from there.  Its so frustrating to live with a disease that shuts me down randomly and with any intense work.  Sometimes even writing can exhaust me.  I can't stand it.  It drives me insane.  But I have to keep alive and keep moving, like a shark.  I need to make a list, of things I can do and things I want to be able to do.  10 years ago that list was things like blowing glass art pieces and learning to use the turntables.  Now it's making a pastry shell and folding laundry without getting tired.  I'm so scared of leaving my house and getting dizzy and tired that it has really cut me off from a lot of things.  I can't cut myself off, I know that.  It isn't healthy, blahblahblah.  But getting out of my comfort zone, possibly wearing real pants?  Terrifying.  Especially if I'm stuck somewhere that I can't sit down or easily pass out. Better days are coming.  I just have to be positive.  Now to end with a song...   




































































Happy New Year! I'm Drinking All Day!

It's a new year, and my kitchen is still dirty.  Every year I expect there to be a plastic wrapping around the world, like I can run around and unwrap my life that was magically dry cleaned in the night.  I want to wake up to children and a dog in plaid pajamas, with my husband, in front of our marble fireplace.  My handsome husband.  Handsome and the prince of a small Caribbean island with lots of money and no pirates.  Or whatever.  Don't get me wrong of course, I love my boyfriend and love my relationship with him, but him suddenly becoming the prince of a small prosperous island would be freakin' awesome.

Let's look at some of what made 2013, well, a year that ends in 13 for sure.  Rick Ross is suing LMFAO Because he thinks that his song:





Is being ripped off by this song:




Apparently, Mr. Ross is under the impression that "Everyday I'm shuffling."  at 3:40 in the LMFAO video is the same as the "Everyday I'm hustlin'." in his song.  My opinion, they sound nothing the same.  At this point in the music industry it is ridiculous to sue over 3 words being similar.  There are so many songs with words at this point it is going to be difficult to stay true to a particular music style without copying, its impossible to write anything without some of the words being similar. 

Someone always has to get pissy about dudes in banana hammocks.