In For It

There is this huge site called Goodreads.  You can promote your work, ask questions, discuss books, review books, answer questions.  It is just huge and early on it was recommended that I utilize it. It is kind of too huge.  You can have problems with it, like someone may look for your book and can't find it.  Early on a guy named Larry asked me to be his friend.  I said something that must have led him to believe  I could think even though I was a female.  His profile pic shows him holding an armful of awards and trophies and he never stops talking about his experience and expertise.  I added him as a friend because he was the first person who asked me.  He complimented me and I was a novice.  I hadn't known about the friendship process. So lately he has been sniping at people and  he said to a person who has a published book, did the book benefit from a professional editing.  He didn't say this book needed a professional edit.  The guy replied he had several beta readers before publishing and Larry went into a spiel quoting  dictionaries and other sources about how beta readers were amateurs and he was talking about professionals.  The guy replied with a source defining a beta reader and Larry shot him down.  They started about legalese and intellectual rights and I interjected a remark saying Larry was beating around the bush arguing about the terminology and not stating whether the book needed an edit.   He jumped all over me and  got all snide and called me an amateur.  Did I ever say I wasn't?  And the "well, then, if you are such an 'expert'" crap.  I fired off how he had gone from being snide to being insulting and how he was always flaunting his professionalism.  I so wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it was not the correct venue.  (Strange guideline I have there, huh?) So now, I am sure, every book I have on Goodreads will receive a scathing insulting zero review.  Sometimes, honestly, and I know my Church teaches the desire or the intent to commit the sin is the same as committing it, but I just really want to shoot him.  I hate him.  I do.  I guess it is nice I have a target.

I love Mises(dot)org.  It is just fun to jump into the debates sometimes and they get all over me.  One guy said he liked it better when Mises was an all boys club.  I admit to them the limits of my knowledge and some come and comment on my blog and it is just a neat site.  He said I am always pushing it on Goodreads.  I think I mentioned it twice as a good place to go to discuss intellectual property rights.  Like maybe especially if your usual genre is romance or science fiction.  I am so steamed.  I keep saying I should learn to keep my mouth shut, but not this time.  Someone needed to call out this needle dick and I am glad it was me.

Cynical and Drunk and Boring Someone in Some Dark Cafe'

My heart breaks for people who have a problem with alcohol, and believe me, I grew up in a household where the problems with alcohol were exhibited to me in painful detail many, too many, times over. But, ya know? I have tried and tried to get into that. Sick, huh? But I can't, just CAN'T get there. Two beers and a xanax can give a nice buzz, and no hangover, but it doesn't last very long. I guess the secret is to keep imbibing before the buzz wears off. But it is so filling, ya know? And, early into my marriage, and actually in my college years, I was kind of into it big time. But the hangovers and the migraines were not worth it. And these people that walk around with these "guts", yikes; no, thanks. Well, there are pills. Yep. I count them and recount them. Just to make sure there will be enough, so I guess that is just as sick as the alcohol thing. And YET:

I cannot write unless I am wired way out to there. And I love that. But, dealing with real life? I don't know about that. Maybe I like it better that way also. I just hate the ups and the downs. And someone is always there to say, "It's better than the alternative." And I have lived with the diagnosis for 37 years, and truthfully, I prefer it to some of that other stuff. At least I am there for the ride. And, I am at a point where I can say, when I am lower than snail slime, I will be back UP in no time, and I even believe it now.

Every time someone gets their life completely fucked up they call on me. Everyone, sibling, child, spouse, neighbor, friend, cousin, grandchild, parent. I am so sick of that. When I feel like I'm getting a little messed up, I turn to the bottle of xanax. Well, actually, they are only .025's and I AM 67, so I guess it is not so bad. And let me confide in you. I've been WAY worse. And I shouldn't have to explain myself, but I always feel like I have to. Catholic guilt? My husband and his family have this wonderful attribute, that no matter what happens, usually a major fucking disaster of more than epic proportions, (tape at eleven) It is ALWAYS someone else's fault. There are NO bipolar people in that family. NONE.

My husband has a slipped disc and is in terrible pain. Even I, who am unwilling to cut him any slack, ever, will admit that it is obvious. So he is taking codeine. And it wasn't helping so he is talking MORE Bigger codeine? And Five (5) five, days ago I said you better start with the fiber therapy cuz codeine is going to block you up big time. Ya know, being married to a huge asshole and then having that huge asshole be full of shit, and THEN, it turns to concrete within his body? Big problem. Epic problem. "Virginia, will you run to the drugstore and get me..." Can't help but interject a 'told ya so'. And I get the "No. No. That's not the problem." FUCK ME. Here I am again. And, ya know? He has to share, every freaking detail. And, then, "No. It's not the codeine. It's the sciatica." Yeah, Lou. Go in there and take a poll. Which molecule has turned to concrete because of the codeine, which because of UTTER complete immobility, which because of diet, which because of sciatica. No. Just fucking argue about it.
What difference does it make. Get that stuff out of there and shut the hell up about it. Yeah, I know, part of the contract is being there for better or for worse, and yeah, I know, I am an extremely bitter person, but WTF. I am so sick of always being taken lightly, being listened to indulgently, perhaps with a gentle chuckle, perhaps with eyes averted toward the newspaper to indicate I am interrupting the reading thereof, or being out and out right ignored and told I am wrong. I am never wrong. Well, I was once. It was in bio lab when that med student TA was flirting with me. I was in love with Ray. Yeah. Fuck Me.