Category Archives: Personal

A Year Later

Okay, it’s not quite a year, but close enough since I last posted here.  This is supposed to be my as daily as I can make it place to post.  It’s where I direct people to go when I am at conventions.  It’s where  you’re supposed to be able to keep up with what I’m working on.  It’s where you’re supposed to be able to go to just see what I’m up to on a non writing basis also.

Needless to say I’ve been very, very bad at this.  The last year or so has been, let’s say eventful for me on a few different fronts.  Nothing like getting your heart broken twice by the same person.  I could sit here and give a lot of reasons for why I’ve been MIA for the last year, but none of them are very good.  I’ve done some writing in that time, not a lot.

Even when I’m not writing I’m thinking about what I want to write.  My problem the last year has just been sitting down and doing the writing.

I don’t want to make promises that I don’t keep.  I feel like I’ve done that a few times on this page.  What I will say is that my plan is to try to get back into the swing of things.  i will try to keep this site updated.  I will try to get back into my writing.

So let’s hope for the best.

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I’m Back

Sorry, I was in Memphis at the Comic Expo and when I wasn’t there I was relaxing at my Mom’s.  My Mom lives about an hour and a half outside Memphis in a little town called Saulsbury.  She’s somewhere in the area where all the Walking Tall stuff happened, but not sure the exacts of it and really never cared enough to find out.  She lives in the clicked one red light town.  She’s on part of the land that my Grand Father, her Father, once had his farm on.  When he died it was divided up between his two sons and three daughters.  I love it there.  I can sit on the porch and see rabbits and groundhogs and deer.  In fact, when we were coming back from the Expo on Sunday we turned to drive up towards my Mom’s home and there were a doe and her two babies standing in front of us.  They were considerate enough to hang around long enough for me to park and try to get a pic of them, even though I couldn’t get too close.

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nothing today

some days by the end it just feels overwhelming and feelings you had hoped were gone keep wanting to resurface and you just want to go to bed and pull the covers up over your head so that’s what I’m going to do….hopefully tomorrow I’ll manage something more

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Weather Post

Watching what’s unfolding in Florida now and what happened in Texas the last week has been hard.  For all those that lived through Katrina the current weather brings back bad memories.  My heart goes out to all those affected and all those about to be.  If any good could come out of these disasters you would hope it would encourage real talk about climate change and science and not whatever passes for science in the minds of the naysayers.  As I type these words Florida is already experiencing the first effects of Hurricane Irma and it still has hours before it makes landfall.  Starting with a proposed landfall on the east coast, the hurricane continues to move farther westward until now it’s supposed to come ashore on the west coast.  If memory serves me Katrina was originally thought to land somewhere in Florida and we all know how that turned out.  For Florida the hurricane coming up the west coast is pretty much the worse scenario imaginable, it puts pretty much the entire state on the east side of the eye, which is the most destructive side.

Sending thoughts and prayers has become a pretty much-cliched sentiment that truthfully does nothing for the intended, but at this point there really isn’t much more that can be done. I’ve spent a good chunk of my childhood in Florida and a few years later as an adult and the state is one of my favorite places.  For what it’s worth my thoughts are with everyone that will be affected and I truly wish the best.

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no promises

I have to admit this last year has pretty much sucked.  Mainly because I’ve let it.  The first half of the year I let someone back into my life, briefly, but someone that had already done much damage to my heart and my self-esteem.   I thought things would be different this time.  I should have known better.  Within a month I was worse off than I had been the first time.  Love sucks.

 

I’ve let this work its way into my mind and slowly just eat away at me, day after day.  Last year I had made so much progress with my writing and publishing.  This year the plan had been to continue that.  Ayla should have had the first four issues finished by now and be in trade paperback.  Boxie should be in a trade.  Other books should have been finished.  But none of this has happened.  Yes, I have finished a few things.  Mainly Trump related since my hate for him can over ride any feelings of depression, lol.

 

I’ve never really used the word depression to describe what I’ve gone through this last year, but if I want to be honest with myself, I have to.  I’ve suffered from depression.

 

It’s made it hard to find the energy to write.  It’s made it hard to find the energy or the motivation to do so many things this past year.   Even though I manage to make myself get some things done and move forward it has been like a weight around my neck, just dragging me down.  At first, I wouldn’t want to get out of bed, if I didn’t have work, I might have stayed there for days.  Even now there are times I just want to pull the covers up over my head and just lay there without getting up.

 

It is getting better.   I’ve actually been dating, though that hasn’t worked out so well, not bad enough to make me even more depressed.  More like it’s bad enough to make me laugh about it.  I don’t think about what might have been, how it went wrong, what I did wrong as much as I did.  And when I do think about it I don’t get upset about it, before it would send me in a downward spiral.   Now it still will jump attack in my mind when I least expect it or want it, but it’s more and more like it’s past history, something that I’m moving on from.

 

So what is the purpose of this post?  To bore you all with my whining.  If any of you were my Facebook friends when all this was going down I think you got enough of my whining to last you for an eternity.  No, this is my moving on and putting all this behind me post.  This is my post where I’m pointing towards the future and putting the past where it belongs, behind me.

 

I’ve made some changes that I don’t want to go into that have been more than self-destructive for me.   Done and over with.

 

I’ve let my health slide.  I’m not in the shape I was in when I first was diagnosed with Diabetes, but I’ve added weight and let myself slide some.  My sugar levels are going in the wrong direction.  I’m going to try to start eating better again.  I know I’m not going to be perfect, far from it.  But I need to put the junk food that I had thrown out and stopped eating when I was first diagnosed back behind me again.  I’m at 194 pounds now.  I want to lose at least twenty pounds.  I’m going to post my weight on here as I move forward, hopefully the idea of looking like a complete fool and adding weight instead of subtracting it will be enough to motivate me to lose it.

 

And more importantly, I’m going to focus on my writing again.  I’ve got some great things going forward and I want to continue that.  I’m made some progress this year, just not as much as I had originally had hoped.  But that’s ok, there’s a new year coming and I can just do better this year.

 

Finally my goal for this site was to post a lot more often.  I want this site to reflect my writing, but also my personal life too.  This is where I want to post my thoughts about whatever catches my mind at that moment, where I complain about what happened today, what’s going on in my writing, etc.  I want this to be like my old blog, as I mentioned in my last post on here too many weeks ago.  I’d like to make this a daily thing, so some posts may be long and informative, while others may be short and leave you wondering why I even bothered, lol.  But at this moment I’m not going to promise daily posts.  I’ll settle for weekly and hope we can move into something closer to daily.

 

So let’s see how well I do this time.

 

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Blogging Ain’t What It Used to Be

Back in the day I used to have a blog, altijiranga mitjina, that I was almost obsessed with posting in.  I tried to make it a habit of posting at least once a day on it.  It’s been five years since I last posted on it, but when I was in the midst of it, I was faithful about posting.  I posted during Katrina.  I would work all day and come home exhausted but somehow find the time to sit down and write a post.  I posted about everything and anything.

I was hoping to take some of that dedication and bring it to this site.  While my other sites are geared towards certain comic titles, this site is supposed to be more open.   While it’s main focus is going to be on my comic writing career, I want to share other aspects of my life on this site.  Here I’ll talk about pretty much anything.   From posts like the one about Best Buy to perhaps one about the perils of Long Distance Relationships or how it feels to have your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on and keep going back for more.

Ok, that got dark all of a sudden.  But as you can see, the purpose of this site is to keep you updated with me.  So I’m not promising anything, because whenever I do, things seem to not work out, but the plan is to try to post on here at least every other day or so, if I can’t maintain a daily presence.  And we’ll see where we go from there.

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2 A.M.

Up late.  Actually went to sleep around midnight and got a couple hours sleep.  Woke up and laid there for about ten minutes and realized that I was not going to go back to sleep.  So here I am.  Staring at a computer screen and trying to figure out why I’m up and not sleeping.  My goal is to try to write on this site more often.  Not just comic related stuff, but pretty much anything to do with my life.  This site is supposed to be where I share what’s going on in my life.  So here I am at two in the morning sharing.  This would be a perfect time for me to start whining about the past year of my failed relationship, but I really don’t feel like writing about it now.  One day I’m going to devote a post to how I had my heart tore out and repeatedly stomped on, but to be honest I kept setting myself up to have the repeat performance.  Until hopefully I’ve decided to realize that some things are just not going to happen and I need to move on and forget.  Even if forgetting is hard sometimes.  So at least I’m sparing you all that.  And now I think I might try to see if I can go back to sleep.  Good night, everyone.

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Doctor’s Visit

Yesterday I went to the hospital because I was experiencing chest pains.  Well, actually I went to Urgent Care and than they sent me to the ER.

Once upon a time I would have had to been dragged to the hospital or any semblance of a doctor.  When I was younger I very rarely went to the doctor.  If I was sick I just waited it out.  Eventually I got better.  Maybe not the smartest route to take, but when you’re young you feel invulnerable.  I rarely took sick days at work.  I think I once went at least two years or more without calling out.

Everything changed right after Katrina.  No, this time I’m not going to talk about the hurricane, it exists in this story only as a supporting player and to provide background.  It was a week or so after we had come  back home from the storm.  My parents lived in Picayune Mississippi, about thirty minutes from me and they home went through the storm fairly well.  A car cover, some roof shingles, a tree across the drive way back to their place that we had to cut in half to get by; but overall nothing too terrible.  In fact they had their power back on within a few days.

My home didn’t receive any major damage.  A tree limb had broke off and pretty much flattened my grill, which I had forgotten to bring inside before I left.  But my home itself, pretty good.  Except I didn’t have power.  Still I was home, cleaning up and going into work.  We were not open for business, but we were open for any police or fire fighters or anyone helping with rescue operations to come get shoes, underwear, flashlights, whatever they needed.  So there were a few of us there during the day.

The day before I had went with my brother to his house on the Westbank.  Unfortunately he wasn’t quite as lucky in escaping damage to his home.  He had about two feet of water in his house.  We went in and started the clean up process.  We worked throughout the day and than went back to my parents.  From there I decided to go home and spend the night so I could go into work the next day and see what was going on.

I woke that morning feeling terrible.  My stomach was killing me.  I was sweating like I was on fire.  My head hurt something fierce.  I held off for about half the day and than decided I needed to go to the doctor.  Now remember this was not much more than a week after Katrina.  I took a chance that one of the local clinics was open and I was lucky.  I saw a doctor who said I had a urinary infection.  He prescribed some medicine for me and than told me to come back in a week or so.

I went home, feeling worse every minute.  I remember laying down on the couch.  It was hot in my house.  No power meant no air conditioner.  But the sweat pouring off my body was not due to the heat.  As bad as I felt I decided to drive to my parents.  I figured if nothing I could be miserable with lights and air.

I made it there and the next morning I woke up, feeling worse than the previous day.  My parents took one look at me and said they were taking me to their doctor.  Now normally I would have argued and probably refused to go, I had just went to the doctor the day before.  But I was feeling so bad I didn’t say anything.

As soon as we went into their doctor’s office he took one look at me, felt my stomach and than told my parents to bring me to the hospital and don’t worry about checking in, he was going to call ahead.  I got to the hospital, they had me in a room and before I knew it I was been put under and operated on.   My appendix was gangrene.

The doctor later told me that if I had waited another day I would have more than likely been dead.

I was in the Picayune hospital which was, I think, only like three floors and the roof had blown off the hospital so the top floor was not being used.  They had one doctor working in the entire hospital and a handful of nurses.  The first night they had me in the maternity ward, but in the middle of the night someone came in having a baby so they woke me up and wheeled me down to ICU, where I spent the next week or more.  I actually don’t remember how many days I was there, I know it was at least a week, but after awhile all of them seem to blur together.

Since than I find myself a lot more respective to going to the doctor.

Now when I have aches and pains I don’t automatically say no to a visit to the doctor.

So when I had chest pains yesterday, even tough I felt like it was nothing, and didn’t want to go to the doctor and didn’t for the first half of the day, but after listening to everyone tell me that I should go and remembering that day back after Katrina, I decided that it was pretty safe than sorry.

Everything turned out great.  They ran every test they needed to run and at the end pronounced me in good health.  Which is what I would rather hear than something was wrong.  So maybe I didn’t need to go the hospital, but you know what, I’m glad I went.  Who knows?  It could have been something and putting it off might not have been a good idea.

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Father’s Day

My Dad died about nine years ago.  There’s not a day that goes by that I can’t honestly say I don’t think of him.  I never knew I would miss him this much.  A few years ago I wrote this post on Facebook and re-posted it again this year.  I think this sums up anything new I could write so I’m going to post it here also.  To those whose Fathers are still alive, call them and wish them a happy Father’s Day.  I know I wish I could.

I first posted this a few years ago and it came up on my memories recently, but with Father’s Day tomorrow I wanted to re post it one more time. I don’t know if I can find anything different to write about my Dad that I don’t include here.

MY DAD

It’s not like I think of him more on this day than any other. I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t have at least one thought of my Dad, who passed away from cancer six years ago. Something will happen during each day will make me think of him. I can be shopping at the book store and I’ll see a book and my mind thinks how that would be a perfect Father’s Day or Christmas present for him, but of course I don’t have to buy it. Or when I bought my Ipad when it first came out I imagined him saying something about my need to buy the newest gadgets as soon as it came out.

You hear people say that their Mom or Dad is their best friend. My Dad was never my best friend. He was my Dad. I didn’t want him to be my best friend. I needed him to be my Dad. Even after I had supposedly grown up I wanted him as a Dad, not a best friend. I wanted to be able to call him up with a problem and get his advice. I knew if things got bad I always had a place to go back to. I have plenty of friends, but I only had one Dad.

My Dad was, shall we say, vertically challenged. He was probably 5’ 4”, shorter than my Mom. Of course that was always open to comment. He liked to say that dynamite came in small packages, I would tell him so does silly putty. But when I think of him I always imagine myself looking up at him, no matter how tall I grew over him.

He continued to surprise me throughout his life. A lifelong Republican, and worse a Nixionian, while I grew up he came to admire Bill Clinton. A veteran of over twenty years, he would get so mad about the war in Iraq and the men and women sent over there he would literally work himself into tears.

I got my love of reading from my Dad. He always had a book and was reading some part of the day. After my parents retired, he would go shopping with my Mom and while she was in the stores shopping he would find a bench to sit and read. I remember more than a few times walking through the mall to find him sitting on a bench with a book while my Mom was inside the store shopping. I can say that I am a feminist because of my Dad. Chores or duties in our home weren’t assigned because one was the Mom or one the Dad. My Dad handled the cooking the last twenty years of his life so much that after he died my Mom said she had to learn how to cook all over again.

One of the things my Dad regretted the most in his life I think was that he didn’t graduate high school. He left an abusive family situation and joined the Navy before he received his diploma. He may not have finished school, but my Dad was one of the smartest people I have ever known. He taught himself so much over the years, that there were few subjects he didn’t have some knowledge of. As much as I’ve tried to emulate him, there are some subjects that just baffle me and when something in car goes wrong I miss the chance to call him and explain the problem and have him tell me what the solution is.

And what I remember most about my Dad was how much he loved my Mom. Oh, I’m not saying there weren’t bad moments. They could fight. Oh boy, could they fight. But in the end it didn’t matter. They loved each other so much. When my Dad was in the hospital dying I overheard my Mom talking to the priest and she said “He’s my right arm, no, he’s both my arms, he’s my whole body.”

My Dad was one of those people that never realized what an impact he had on others. If he had seen the people that stopped by his hospital room when he was dying, from family that came everyday and worked shifts so he wouldn’t be alone at night, to nurses who had dealt with him only weeks or months before wanting to stop by and say their goodbyes he would have been astonished.

I’ll never forget one incident while we sat in the hospital room. There must have been about twenty people in the room, from my Mom, my brother and sister, my niece and nephew, uncles and aunts, cousins. It was a full room. Everyone was sitting around talking in different groups while he laid on his hospital bed. My niece got up and walked over the his bed and sat down next to him. Conversations were lowering, people were turning, as she took his hand in hers and sat there, talking to him and holding his hand. The room had went completely quiet as everyone watched.

My Dad adored my niece and nephew. I’m not saying he didn’t love his own children, but he held a special place for the two of them in his heart and thought the sun rose and set on them.

I could spend pages and pages talking about my Dad and what he meant and still means to me. Even though I don’t send him a card anymore I wanted to write something about him for Father’s Day. They say that loss gets better over time and while it might be true that the hurt isn’t quite as fierce there isn’t a day that goes by I wish he wasn’t still here.

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