Pain

I feel like someone broke into my house and beat me.  I started a new rule today- any day i wake up throwing up then poop my pants, I'm going back to bed.  I'm not having it.  Am i alive?  I stiill feel pain, like I'm full of angry bunched up muscles.  Small angry pain tigers curled everywhere in my body, stretching and clawing their ways around me.  Chest tight, stabbing and constricting with each breath.  Combined with my regular health issues, unbearable.  I did it to myself.  Not apurpose, mind you.  (I love that word, a'purpose)  Smoking.  Ah yes, if I'd only avoided the damn cigarettes I would be in much better shape than I am currently.  The same could be said of soda and booze too I'm sure, but those smokes can be murder.  I'm actually smoking one right now.  Terrible, awfully nasty habit.  I'm trying to switch to a vape (e-cigarette) but its not the same.  Regular cigarettes are dirty.  Vapes are not, and i miss that dirtyness.  Its the last real vice i have.  I used to have many, and spent a fair amount of time "discovering myself".  By "discovering myself" I mean basically doing anything and everything i felt like in that moment.  Yes, now I'm paying for it, but i don't regret those decisions for a moment.  I had my son fairly young (22) but I am done with that life, and have been since before he was born.  But it calls to me sometimes.  The night breeze whispers through my hair, reminding me of adventures to be had, and fun to revel in.  That time is gone.  I have lessons to drive the kiddo to, along with teacher meetings and working a regular job.  No more do I follow my fancy, from party to party, man to man, friend to friend.  Life was so fluid, so... shining.  I miss that.  Now I have the comfort of routine.  Strange, the tradeoffs we make in life.  I have no regrets looking back, but some of my choices were interesting.

Focus

Finally I'm back.  Focus on the real world really brings me down.  I went back to work last month, I'm a waitress at a pancake house.  Good hours, easy work, and I pull down about $20/ hr.  Sweet.  Trying to get regulated on an actual schedule is a lot more difficult than I thought.  Its been over a year since I had to show up somewhere and do really anything not my-kid related and frankly the idea of it scared me.  What if I couldn't handle it?  What if I got super sick at work and couldn't go back?  What if I sent myself back to the hospital and did permanent damage?  What if?  What if?  It turned out to be fine.  I enjoy it, like my co-workers and really like my bosses.  It turns out I'm really good at this, and making more money than I have at any other job.  Consistent money, anyhoo.  I feel like I'm starting to come together in my head.  I had to get the job because we were behind on bills, but I'm glad I did.  Its been nice to be able to afford my son'd favorite restaurant, Taco Johns.  I can afford real luxuries, like dryer sheets.  Soon we will be caught up on the bills and be able to save up for an It-Was-Unforseen fund.  Hell we could blow $100 on a weekend trip to go soak my butt in my favorite place, hot springs. in

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.

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.

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!

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.

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:

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!