About Me

Mary-Sue

I decided to read Outlander for research purposes, but since I’m not remotely the target audience, I’m not going to review it. Instead, I will tell you that I’m really struggling to get through the book.

Outlander is classic Mary-Sue fiction. As in, the main character is an orphan, but instead of carrying any deep emotional scarring over the loss of her parents, she grew up traveling the world and going on all sorts of adventures with her uncle. Wheee!

It goes downhill from there.

Naturally it leaves me, someone with a traumatic backstory, absolutely nothing to relate to. Actually, I find it quite triggering. Do other women really have someone constantly swooping in to protect them from everything unpleasant? Why was I never so fortunate?

Cue the accusations of being self-centered and making everything about me.

Given that Mary-Sue is one of the most popular sub genres of romance, I can’t help but wonder if I really am that much of an anomaly. Where are the fictional characters that are like me?

The villains in horror novels, I’m sure.

This massive disconnect is the reason why I write the sorts of things that I write. My productivity is so slow in the winter because January is my “traumaversary” month — the event that permanently robbed me of my ability to write PG stories, so to speak. I have a darkness inside, and while it prevents me from relating to most people, it is also why I appreciate the things that everyone else takes for granted. You learn to live in peace with your demons.

Anyway

I’m not sure if I’ll actually make it to the end of Outlander, even for the research purposes. It just feels too juvenile and naive for me to stomach.

About Me

A Decade

One of the fun things about 2022 is that it marks a solid TEN YEARS of changing diapers multiple times every day. The habit has become so ingrained, I barely notice doing it anymore. And despite the stereotype, I love hogging all the diaper changes for my little babies, because they only stay tiny for such a short while. 🙂

I very much like children.

You see, before marriage and family, I had the full time job, my own apartment, and a collection of shoes that I never had time to wear, and I would never go back to that life for anything in the world. I prefer having drawings and crayons scattered all around the floor, spending my days comforting small sorrows, and loving the big smiles on little faces.

It’s so wonderfully sublime.

Even when they drive me crazy.

About Me

What I’ve been up to

I do feel bad that I haven’t been posting more of my fiction writing for the past several months.

At this point, I’ve got half of The Scion Suit written, which I’ve decided to expand from a novelette into a branching, multiple-possible-endings novel. Unfortunately, with the fact that the reader gets to periodically choose which path to go down, I haven’t the slightest idea how I’d go about posting it on a blog.

Not to mention, I’ve reached the part where I planned to switch over to MSG Hartmann’s perspective, only I’m not in a state where I can readily get into a masculine frame of mind. I’ve decided to put it off until after the arrival of baby #6, so I don’t have pregnancy hormones affecting what I write (though I still plan on publishing The Scion Suit in 2022).

In the meantime, I’ve started working on a different idea, which is a lot more feminine with plenty of emotional drama. The catch is that this one is so securely rated M, I don’t know if I should post it as I work on it, or wait to officially publish it.

I’m not entirely sure if I’m using the sex scenes to distract from the philosophical rants, or vice versa. They both get pretty heavy, lol.

I’m going to be honest: progress is slow. Winter is not remotely my most productive season when it comes to writing, so even if I decided to post this new story with all the juicy bits cut out (and by that I mean the philosophical rants), it will still take some time to get to that point. By which I mean … February.

IDK I’m compulsive LOL

About Me

Easy

I’m getting really sick of the word, “Easy.”

It dawned on me shortly after New Years, when I was snacking on some left over cheese ball while reading the cracker box, and I realized that the “easy” recipe on the back began and ended with slicing some cheddar cheese.

Oh gosh, I don’t know if I could do that. I might accidentally cut the pieces crooked or something. Maybe I’ll just get some canned EZ cheeze instead.

The world has developed an obsession with “Easy this,” and “Easy that.” We’re constantly inundated with tips, tricks, and hacks, for instant results. You know that wonderful feeling of accomplishment that you get when you succeed at doing something difficult or complicated?

Probably not.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the whole world who doesn’t want to take the easy way out. Popping a food tray into the microwave might be easier, but it doesn’t taste anywhere near as good as cooking from scratch.

I’ve even been criticized for not doing the easy thing with my own personal life. No, giving birth naturally at home isn’t as “easy” as getting an epidural in the hospital, but at the end I get an intense rush of love and euphoria that those hospital moms miss out on entirely — they don’t even know it exists. Not to mention, I can live my life with the confidence of knowing that I ain’t no weakling. I am up to the challenge, my will is strong and unbreakable, and I know how to endure until the end.

I don’t really care about ‘easy’. I have no interest in it.

After all, death is easier than life, but that doesn’t justify nihilism.

The best rewards are found in the tasks that are hard.

About Me

Happy New Year

Phew, still alive.

The kids recently watched The Emperor’s New Groove, so my husband and I decided that it would be fun to make spinach puffs for our New Years Eve party. I thought they were scrumptious, but the kids ate off the pastry and left the spinach mixture in the middle. *eyeroll* They really liked the cheese ball, at least.

Then ’round about 9pm, I started wondering if the kids really needed to stay up until midnight, or if I could get away with sending them to bed, lol. In the end, the one-year-old was the only one who fell asleep early.

And, of course, we kicked off 2022 with our traditional special breakfast.

For the moment, I’m in recovery mode. I’ve spent most of today lounging with yarn and knitting needles while the kids play video games and watch movies, and boy-oh-boy do I need the break.

Happy New Year to everyone! I hope that you enjoyed the holidays, and that the next twelve month bring plenty of amazing new adventures. 🙂

I need more wool socks. My feet are freezing.

About Me

Life

I’ve dun-gone killed my stats by not updating enough. XD

I suppose you can blame eccentricities, since I lost all interest in the world outside of my home, and busied myself with my own business. But creative sorts are supposed to be inexplicably weird and moody.

At this moment, Christmas is rapidly approaching, and I never really feel 100% ready for it; there’s always something on my to-do list that I never get around to. The kids are getting more ecstatic with every passing day, and managing the chaos gets more and more impossible.

I’m relieved that I don’t have to see any relatives this year either. It still bothers me that one of them declared my Christmas tree “ugly” after I laughingly described some of the homemade ornaments the kids have done — not because I think that there’s anything wrong with my decorations, but because she didn’t even have the decency to feign politeness. Or enough of a soul to realize that the point is for the memories, not narcissism.

Nope. Don’t miss it.

In other news, I have officially decided to put The Scion Suit on the back burner. I’m not emotionally on the same page anymore, so I’m giving it some time to simmer before I come back to it, rather than mechanically type out everything I had planned.

But don’t worry.

I’m not going to abandon it.

After all, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to finish what I start.

About Me

The Forbidden Chronicles – Christmas

The year I left Christianity was the year I began to love Christmas.

Let’s face it, sitting around my grandma’s living room listening to someone read out of the Bible was the low point of Christmas Eve, especially when I was a child and wanted to run around playing with cousins that I hadn’t seen in awhile. When I was freed from the admonition to “keep Christ in Christmas,” the burden of guilt went with it. I no longer had to chastise myself for feeling empty every time I heard the nativity story.

You see, I never experienced Christianity the way everyone around me always said they did. There was no sense of love or comfort, no still small voices, and no answered prayers. Oh how hard I tried, and all I ever felt was a growing sense of hollowness.

That year, I began to enjoy Christmas for what it was, instead of feeling guilty for what I wasn’t.

Santa Claus and presents, homemade desserts galore, decorating a tree … It’s all wonderful fun, and makes for a fantastic celebration with loved ones during the darkest days of the year. It’s one of the best holidays we have, and I adore dedicating an entire month to it.

It reminds us how beautiful life can be.

Unfortunately, I never feel like I’m allowed to explain why I celebrate Christmas despite not being a Christian. I’m far too accustomed to receiving catty criticism every time I try to explain how I see the world, so I’ve learned keep the magic to myself.

But maybe if I share just a little bit, someone else will learn to see this holiday in the same way I do.

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com
About Me

In many ways, social distancing was like a dark burden had been lifted from my life. Now that expectations have shifted back to the way they were before, I’m left feeling … angry.

I like celebrating Thanksgiving at home. I like spending three days in the kitchen, cooking and baking my way to the grand finale of basting a turkey in glorious amounts of butter. It’s exhausting, but worth it.

Yet I also feel guilty.

I spent a few days debating with myself over whether I should try to concoct an excuse, or just flatly say no.

I don’t want to spend my holiday nibbling on bland artificial food while listening to so-and-so ramble about her fake fingernails. I don’t belong, and most of them act like I don’t exist.

I want homemade pumpkin pie and fresh rolls hot from the oven. I want music and laughter. I want to enjoy myself and have fun.

I shouldn’t feel like I’m doing something wrong.

About Me

On Schools

I came across this video, and decided to go ahead and share it.

The gist is that teenagers naturally have a later sleep-wake cycle, and the fact that many high schools start before 8am is damaging their brain development.

This is not new information — we talked about this when I was in high school back in the 2000’s, and the teachers were very aware that our 7:30am start time was bad for everyone. My school even experimented with implementing periodic late-start days, to see how it could address the problem. But you know how it is with bureaucracy: twenty years later, nothing has changed.

I don’t talk much about homeschooling my kids, but this is one of the reasons why I went with that option; I still have a naturally late circadian rhythm, and getting up early every morning to get the kids ready and off to school would kill me. In the vein of “been there, done that,” I know that it would very quickly reduce me down to a depressed, horrible mess that bursts into tears every time the alarm goes off. I am not a morning person.

Because my husband is also a night owl, I’m expecting our children to turn out much the same. With homeschooling, everyone can wake up naturally without relying on alarm clocks, and we’re free to enjoy a leisurely breakfast before we get started on the day.

I’m very much of the opinion that the modern lifestyle is incompatible with how our brains and bodies evolved to function — and that’s why society has growing rates of emotional disorders and health problems. I love my children as the vibrant and vivacious individuals that they are, and I could never make them sit in a classroom all day while they are subjected to a “one size fits all” approach to education.

We were meant to move and use our bodies, and to follow our unique passions and curiosities.