Letting the chips fall

Medication, or the lack thereof, can either be the most helpful thing to a person, or the worst. Granted, there's a lot of misdiagnosing going on, children needlessly being poisoned because their parents are too busy to deal with their behavioral issues. Want less hassle? Zombify the kids. Every lackluster parents' answer to their child's incessant curiosity and boundless energy, "My kid has ADHD!" or some other label to explain away their child's lack of manners, social ettiquette, lack of respect for authority, question everything nature... start in the home to find soultions to those "problems" before looking to get that "magic pill". Some kids need the help, most don't, they're just being kids.

Then you have the adults, ones who've been on medication all their lives for a single problem, like ADD, and the older they get, the more medication they're handed to cope with whatever is ailing them; insomnia, heart problems, arthritis, liver damage, muscle soreness, I'm sure they have a pill that makes you like brussel sprouts too, isn't there one for every "ailment" known to mankind?

But when does taking these medications and feeling the way one does, become habit? It takes approximately 21 days to form a new habit.... what about 21 years? Being originally diagnosed when they're a kid, how many actually go and get re-evaluated. The problem with the psychiatrists and psychologist, is that as long as you have a history of having a certain problem, they won't bother to re-evaluate you unless: 1) they care more for the patient than the money and kick backs, 2) you ask for a re-evaluation and fight to get one done (which may or may not lead to being put on more medication for being aggressive and non-compliant) or 3) They ignore the original problem altogether to label you for new ones.

Furthermore, you're never put on just one medication, eventually your medicine cabinet will resemble that of a small pharmaceutical quality control room, with one medication to counteract the side effects of another and another to counteract the side effects of the one used to counteract side effects of the first little poison pill you're given, so on and so forth. See where I'm going with this? Its the snow ball effect. Soon you're taking so many pills that your stomach actually fills up and thinks you're eating food, culling your appetite even futher but then reeling back in horror at the fact there are no vitamins or proteins to distribute to the body. Solution: more pills, of the supplement variety.

You leave one downward spiral for another and get caught in the proverbial catch-22. If you stop taking your pills, your body goes into shock, your brain tries to compensate for an endocrine system that's been suppressed for years, if not decades, neurotransmitters go haywire, like ants with a caved in tunnel, flooding the body with monoamines racing full throttle through the twisted nether of the circulatory system, trying in vane to stabilize everything, which, in short, makes you go temporarily neurotic. Depression, paranoia, anger...

The only way to stop the madness is to fuck it all, wean yourself off, learn some self control... impossible when your future hangs in the balance and depends on everything you have on the table at this very moment. There are no breaks, no way to seclude yourself, no chance of delaying projects and commitments, no time to make health a number one priority in this dog eat dog industry.

Ultimate solution, move to France.

Those of us who witness the ups and downs in our beloved friends are sometimes left with a spirit so shredded and mangled you might as well add milk and eat it for breakfast. Wanting to help, but not wanting to exacerbate the problem by encouraging more pill popping. Listening to the tirades, the outburst of anger, the loathing of self-pity and doubt. Sometimes we sit in a dark corner with our friend, holding on to their huddled, sobbing mass as tightly as we can, lest the winds of agony carry them off to drown in a sea of despair and failed dreams, rocking them back and forth in an attempt to throw them a life preserver of comfort and hope; to shine a light into the darkness encompassing their soul.

The worst of it is not being able to be there, in person. You can't slap a face, hide the bullets, dull the knives, stop traffic or make duct tape as useful as ever. Wrecked with worry, fear, heartache, anger; helpless to do anything except leave messages when the phone isn't answered or the login id is not signed in... frantically dialing every number you can think of to try and get a small army to the rendezvous point and start the search for a lost soul wandering the streets of Santa Monica and lending moral support and a comforting voice to the nerve wrecked pregnant wife sitting at home wondering what the hell went wrong ("Well you see hon, back in high school..."), keep her occupied, keep her mind off it. All the while keeping it on the down low so the drama starved press won't have a field day playing hacky sack with the feelings of a tormented celebrity. Faith, trying to put faith in that the universe will do what needs to be done and hoping that includes bringing him home safe, sane and alive, is getting harder to keep a grip on the longer this takes.

All's quiet on the txting front... no news is supposed to be good news... not in this case.

Edit: So as soon as I posted this, I got good news. Everything's okay, he decided to sit on a hillside to watch the sunrise and was making his way back home. So, he's somewhat good. Thank you universe!

The Updates

Anyway, after running the gauntlet of the economically impaired real estate market and viewing the house today to make sure things were repaired in proper order, all the while driving through a seriously intense snow storm (sent by Bob the Bray, fucker!) in which drivers of the less intelligent persuasion were skidding and sliding off the road as they passed us; I can safely say, the house is OURS! Monday we sign closing papers and get our keys. But get this, I must've done some pretty good shit in the eyes of the cosmic wonder and am reaping the rewards, we're actually getting money BACK, that's right folks, nearly $800 back from our $2k earnest money deposit. So instead of sending hubby down with a check for closing, they'll be handing us one. Maybe it was the harrowing ordeal of having to grit my teeth and not complain as the VA stuck a proverbial knife into my gut and twisted it around with all their frustratingly sweet apologies for the delays.

So here's the house:


We plan on moving in next week, although there's no guarantee on when internet will be hooked up, just yet; we still need to get two stoves and one fridge.

Also, I found this online while skipping merrily oblivious down the sewage drain of memory lane. Hil-fucking-larious and too damn close for comfort.

Somewhere, somehow they all got chewed up and spit back out. They don't taste like living anymore. Don't you see what's it's like living in this deranged, weary blender of a world? Every day is an agonizing ordeal, like balancing a pot of scalding water on your head while people whip your legs and butt. Ah, you never forget your senior prom. You think I'm sick? Well the only disease I've got is modern life, a shnug-busting gauntlet of inefficiency and misery that's one long parade of letdowns, putdown, trickledowns, shutouts, freezeouts, sellouts, numbnuts, nickenputz and nimrods! All making every day as much fun as waxing a flaming Pontiac with your tongue! And even if you do luck into the possibility of some fleeting pleasure, like say if some nimphomaniac telephone operator with the muscle control of Romanian matslappers agree to a little strip air-hockey, it will be over before it starts, cuz some foul lacking, fedder reeking cab-jockey slams his checker up your hatchback and the cab is owned by some pinata spanker from a Santaria culpa a culpa who starts shaking chicken bones at you and gives you a boil on your neck so big that all it needs is Michael Jordan's autograph to make it complete! And even with all this, with all this! I still drag my sorry butt off the sealy every morning and stick my face in the reaping machine for one more day! Knowing when it's time to flash the cosmic card key at those pearly gates, I won't be in the coffin anyways, because some underhanded undertaker sold my heart, pancreas and other assorted good and plenty to that same Santaria cult! So does anybody really wonder why anybody is hanging onto sanity by the atoms on the tips of their fingernails, while life dirty dances on their digits, and is it really any wonder THAT I SEEM DERANGED? - Duckman

I forgot how much we loved that show and now I'm seriously missing Cornfed!

Tooodles, lovlies!

Elathan's Muse

His jet black hair glistened in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the open window. He layed there on the floor, his head in my lap, peacefully, completely relaxed; the cares of the past and future washed away by the light, soothing breaths of the present. I gazed into his hazel eyes, they seemed black in the ambient light, with sparks of gold fire glimmering from within. I reached down and aimlessly ran my fingers through his soft, tousled hair, playing with the stray tendrils. Nothing could be more perfect than this moment. A smile crept across his face as he slowly closed his eyes. I too smiled. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him and I knew he felt the same way about me.

"If we keep this up, people will say we're up to something." he whipered, amused.

"Fuck 'em." I blatanly replied, laughter within my words.

He chuckled then breathed deep, letting loose a contented sigh.

It wouldn't be the first time we were accused of being less than platonic. It came with the job of being best friends with the opposite sex. The argument had become old and not worth more than a few facetious comments for acknowledgment.

There was nothing sexual about our relationship. A fact I treasured more than anything. What we had was perfect, anything more would destroy everything we had built together in the last 20 years. He, the brother I never had; I, the sister he never had, yet so similar you could swear we were true siblings. That's not to say we didn't have our fights, disagreements and declared all out psychological warfare on each other as kids. As adults, those events are a few and far between.

It's these quiet moments, when the world slips away, when we can just be ourselves, when nothing seems to matter but being in each others presence, that I lived for. These moments were the world's saving grace.

"Time to go, crackhead." I gently reminded.

He groaned and rolled on his stomach, propping himself on all fours and stared at me.

"Have to?" he asked, the glimmering gold in his eyes fading as they grew dark with dismay.

I sighed, "Yeah. You have to get up early, Mr. Hollywood."

He dropped his head, he hair falling over his ears to his chin.

"Yes mother." He gibed.

I playfully smacked him across the top of his head.

He stood, several distinct cracks emanating from his back as he stretched. He reached for me and helped me up, giving me a long, tight hug.

"I'll see you soon." he softly said, with a tinge of guilt, knowing "soon" was relative.

I simply replied, "I know." swallowing the lump in my throat. It could be next week, it could be next year, it could be longer.

He grabbed his black jean jacket, pulling out his Blackberry to turn it back on. He walked to the couch where my husband had fallen asleep and kicked his legs, attempting to wake him up.

"I'm off, Sandman." He said, using the nickname he'd given my husband for his time in the Iraqi desert.

My husband blinked, mumbled and rolled over on the couch; we laughed.

I walked him to the door and he turned to me.

"If you need anything..." he started.

I interrupted him with a shake of my head. I knew what he was going to say. But I didn't need his charity.

Although defeated, he smiled. Parting was always awkward, we never had enough time anymore. Not like we did back in high school, when we had the woods between Glendale Cemetery and the golf course; discussing the fine art of torture in gruesome detail.

"I love you, sis."

"Hang 'em high, bro." I said with a grin.

He snorted in amusement.

I opened the door and he walked out, never looking back. And I didn't stay to watch him leave.

I am his ever present shadow, his creative companion, his shoulder to cry on, his outlet for venting, his ghostly secret... his dark... little... muse.

Moon!

Pride is too weak a description for what I feel right now! Hopefully we'll reconnect at some point.

MOON

Sci-Fi Thriller from Liberty Films (picked up by Sony), starring Sam Rockwell coming May 25th 2009! This will be Duncan Jones' directorial debut!

In Moon, Sam Bell is a contract miner who's been sent to the moon Selene for 3 years to harvest an important gas that will end Earth's energy problems. Bell is a troubled man with a short temper, but the last 3 years have taught him how to control his emotions. At the end of his time Bell is excited to return home and see his wife and daughter. But towards towards the end of his stay he starts seeing and hearing things. Bell discovers that the company he's working for, Lunar, plans on replacing him in its own fashion, and it sounds like cloning or time travel is afoot.

****
"I'm finally directing my first feature film, a grown up piece of science fiction starring the incredibly lovely and talented Sam Rockwell. I would very much like to use your tentacle-like reach to get this bit of news out to the world at large.

We have just finished the first week of production in London and the film is already looking pretty damn special. Think "some sci-fi classic from the 70s that somehow was over-looked and has only now been unearthed."

I'll try and stop by every week or two and give you another tidbit, if you like, but in return, if you could get the rumor-mill going, through the Internets, the IMMDBs, the Aint-It-Cools, the gossip sites and to your mates in general... to any place you think would help get tongues wagging, I would be most appreciative! More than that... I would love you long time. Hope you're all well!

Yours, covered in film stock and very 70’s beard, Duncan Jones." (Taken from www.bebo.com/themoviecalledmoon)

Pass it on folks!
www.liberty-films.co.uk/

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

No, I'm not stuttering, I have that damn David Bowie song stuck in my head.

I'm really not sure where to start. Reminiscing about last year maybe? I'm trying to avoid writing work. I'm just not in the mood. Lack of sleep, stress over the house, recovering from the NYC/Queens Trip, getting some educational stuff in for the kids.

So, 1994, teen angst, teen alcoholism, depression.... time travel. Okay, it'll work somehow. I picked a city to base it in, researched the geography and local hangouts. Yeah, now I gotta remember all the crap that happened in High School so I can relay that into my characters.

Next, part 2 of a previous project, in 3 episodes. Estranged daughter, secrets of life, alien technology... yeah, that'll eventually work itself out too... at 4am in the morning, waking me from a dead sleep and prompting an 18 hour marathon of writing, deleting, editing, writing, editing, re-writing! Ugh. Why can't I live near a Coffee Bean?

Then--there's always a last bit that makes things seem over the top--I have a script to write about a mass grave, psychotic cults and the search for blood relations, where "blood" plays a significant part. Gruesome, thrilling, twisted and right up my alley.

The worst of it, being someplace I'm not 100% comfortable writing in. Can't get my groove going. Its not like I can wake up at that 4am calling and come out here to write in a t-shirt and underwear. I'm hoping to be in my house in two weeks, tops. Crossing fingers, toes, eyes, arms, legs and anything else that can be crossed, except my mother!

I finally set up WinAmp, a requirement for writing, because I hate Windows Media Player.

Highlight of the weekend: Met John Ford and Ian Lloyd. I don't really know who they are, but I met them at the Cutting Room. Oh, I also met some more of my biological family and made plans for the NY Comicon and the I-Con.

And I just got the call I was expecting about ANOTHER writing project... not committing yet.

Calgon......

New Year, New Blog

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. - Edgar Allan Poe, "Eleonora"

Ever stop to think, and sometimes realize, that some things are real when you've always thought they weren't? Mainstream media and modern science are used to teach us, condition us, that some things just aren't possible because they haven't been proven, yet they won't accept the fact that it hasn't been disproven. Instead, the media and sciences seek to label things they don't fully understand. They make assumptions influenced by the monotheistic society they are surrounded by and, together, work to convince others that their assumptions are facts. More often than not, their partnership succeeds in perpetuating a false truth, which the public eagerly embraces because we are taught not to question science, not to question our textbooks, not to question authority, those who do, are the outcasts, the minority who will never have a voice nor be taken seriously.

Is what you perceive to be "evil" really evil? Or has your perception been twisted and molded to that of the mainstream? Do you do your own research, taking the word and experiences of the minority into account, or do you just allow the "moral majority" to determine what is true and what is false for you?

Obviously, we know that not all Natives wear feathers in their hair and have names like "Stands with a Fist". I can say this here because of the people who have access to this blog. This is something you are familiar with, and balk at when confronted with such imagery. If one culture can be misrepresented, how many others have been treated the same way?

Who's job is it to determine the fantasy from the reality? By who's influence must we judge the difference? Or could it just be fear? We always hear the phrase "Fear of the Unknown". I perceive this to mean fear of that which we do not know. Naturally, that would be the consensus. That's what it means. So why not know about it? Why not research and educate yourself about it? Why not throw your preconceptions out the window and start as if you've never heard of the topic before? But even then, do you choose to go with the majority, made up of people who have no, or very little, real experience in the area, or do you go with the minority who have nothing but personal experience and have lived through it?

Some people believe in ghosts, others don't. Those who do, believe what they have experienced, not what science tries to explain away and label. Some people are fearful (thanks to media and the primitive stories our parents used to make us behave) and look for any excuse to alleviate their fear, others ignore the situation and others willingly accept that there may be more to our existance than everyday living and our petty relationships with the people around us. If ghosts are real, what else could be real?

How much credibility do you give to the media and sciences for teaching you about a certain subject? What about personal experiences? Does someone with personal experience have more truth to say than someone who's merely observed? How do you determine credibility? References? What makes those references credible? A degree? Can a degree from an educational institution be deemed credible if it's influenced by the beliefs of a religious majority?

Over and over again you hear that someone's imagination has run wild. For someone to have an imagination, it must have been influenced and/or experienced. Take for instance illustrations of monsters. You see a movie that uses a monster you've never seen before and chalk it up to someone's creative imagination. That monster didn't come from out of nowhere, it was influenced by what the creator has seen. The creator takes bits and parts of other monsters and animals to create something new. Hence, there is no such thing as an original concept. Everything is influenced by something else.

So we come to legends and myths. We're told these are nothing more than stories, primitive beliefs in world where science didn't have much of a foothold. But who's to say the Sun really isn't the god Ra, or Apollo? Science says it a huge mass of gasses that illuminates and warms our earth. Sure, that's what it is on the outside, but do we know what a god looks like? I walk down the street and see a woman walking with two children. So am I to say, "there goes a woman who doesn't have a car or a husband to help her with her children"? That's what I see, so obviously that must be the truth. Nevermind that those might not be her kids at all, that her husband may be a work, that her husband is another female, or that she may just be on a daily walk or her car is in the shop. There could be many reasons as to why this woman is walking alone with two children.

So the question is, how much do we allow others to tell us what to believe and what not to believe? And do we break our conditioning to explore the subject further and form our own opinions or merely let others do the work for us?


- Elathan's Muse

I Am Who I Am

Some call me dull and boring, others call me goth, many call me weird, freakish, or a geek. So who am I... really?

Genetically, I'm Japanese, Cherokee and West European. I love my heritage, especially the Cherokee and Celt part. The similarities between the two cultures are strikingly similar and I find that absolutely fascinating.

• The future is a dream. Dreams are worth having.
• I'm very much an introvert.
• Fire is hypnotic, I could stare at it for hours. Nothing like having arms wrapped around you as you stare at bonfire, fireplace or campfire. Damn, already getting mushy, bleh.
• When I die, my funeral song will be "I'll Be There" by Escape Club, no "ifs", "ands" or "buts".
• I love coffee.
  
• Don't speak to me of boy bands or soap operas, I'm not interested.
• I love horror, anime and sci-fi movies, I despise "chick flicks".
• I can be sophisticated or crude in the blink of an eye, it depends on who I am talking to and if someone says something that can be twisted into some sexually perverted comment!
• Winter is the best season. You can always warm up with blankets. Summer, you can be naked and still sweat your ass off, for all the wrong reasons. Fall and Spring are too back and forth between cold and hot, not to mention spring allergies and pre-winter colds/flus because of the drastic changes in temp.
• I love Diet Pepsi.
  
• I can be an angel.
  
• I can be a demon.
  
• I can be serious.
  
• I can be playful.
  
• I can be a doting mother.
• I can be the iron fist of discipline.
  
• I can be silently malicious.
  
• I can be kind.
  
• I can be a whisper.
  
• I can be a scream.
• I believe in universal health care and gay marriage.
  
• General conversation is one thing until I truly get to know you. I keep my distance until then.
• I'm a thinker. I will sit for hours, just thinking about anything and everything. From the mundane to the amusing, from the scientific to the absurd.
• I'm not afraid of my dark side, its part of me.
  
• I love life. I live in the present, its where everything exciting happens!
• I love memories of the past, but they're nothing more than that, memories - images and experiences one shouldn't cling to or try to hold in stasis.
  
• I do not speak much of my beliefs, my beliefs are my own, no one will change them and I have no interest in making you see things my way.
• I love coffee.
  
• A lyric soprano. I love to sing. I sing several different styles and don't limit myself to just one.
• I love art, all sorts of art.
• I like musicals *gasp*, sure do!
• Halloween is the best holiday ever, I love scaring the crap out of kids but when their parents freak out too, its icing on the cake. Besides, it gives everyone something to laugh about 3 hours later.
  
• I like to bake and get creative with cakes. My parents used to make custom wedding and birthday cakes.
• I love Diet Pepsi.
  
• I love working with theatrical make-up!
  
• I love Harleys and custom choppers, not so fond of crotch rockets. I have a motorcycle license but my neck, back and knee problems keep me from riding.
  
• I like cars that have been customized with some sense of class and taste. Low riders suck, so do caddies with 5 foot fucking rims. Spinners are for retards.
  
• Sports: Manchester United, Philadelphia Soul, New York Giants. Not real big on it but those are the teams I would ultimately choose, for shits and giggles.
• No one is an expert. There's always something new to learn.
• I could care less about Desperate Housewives, Joan of Arcadia, Judging Amy and shows along those lines.
• I love coffee.
  
• Reality shows are the bane of television.
• I'm a ghost writer but not a scab. I DO have some morals.
• I take a Kurosawan (Akira Kurosawa) approach to my dreams and turn them into stories and incorporate them into scripts.
  
• I'm a promoter for WBR bands (close to my heart are HIM and MCR), Darren Bousman and for my buddy, Duncan Jones, for their movies.
• I love Diet Pepsi.
  
• I run the MCRmy of Pittsburgh, I lead a group of kids/teens/adults who promote My Chemical Romance, advocate against self harm, support the Make A Wish Foundation, The Syrentha J. Savio Endowment and Amnesty International, and participate in local community service.
  
• I'm part of the SArmy (Sylar's Army) to promote awareness for epilepsy through Zachary Quinto (aka Sylar on "Heroes" and Spock in the new "Star Trek", local city hero).
• I'm a member of the Repo Army promoting Repo: The Genetic Opera, independent film making, no holds barred anti-mainstream creativity and community involvement in the darker side of the arts.
• If you're famous and don't use your status or money to better the lives of the kids in the crappy neighborhood you claim to come from or give back to society in a meaningful, non-entertaining way, and would rather invest in expensive cars, jewelry and homes, while still bitching about how you grew up, you're a pile of shit and not worth any respect.
• I love coffee.
  
• I don't bother with people who are willingly content to be sheep. Take control of your life and be lead it!
  
• I try to avoid confrontation, its not my job to change the closed-minded, self-absorbed, ignorant people on it. Most people grow up eventually, others, shouldn't have time wasted on them. Those who seriously piss me off, I walk away from and they end up as characters who meet a ghastly demise in a story or script. It's more entertaining that way.
• Supernatural, CSI (pre Morpheus), X-Files, True Blood, Torchwood, Doctor Who, V, The Vampire Diaries, Moonlight and Heroes are the best shows on TV, in my opinion.
  
• I travel quite a bit. I've been to many of the states in the US including Hawaii. I've also been to the UK and Germany.
• I love Diet Pepsi
  
• I like Chinese and Italian food but give me a nice, juicy, rare steak and I'm happy.
• I detest spicy food.
  
• I'm a night person, always have been so its not unusual for me to be up until 4 or 5 in the morning.
• People watching is fun as long as you don't take it seriously.
  
• I love camping and bonfires.
• I love coffee.
  
• I love wolves, dragons and the Malaysian Fruit Bat (They are SO adorable!)
  
• I'm a huge LoTR fan, have been since HS.
  
• I love the Valdemar books by Mercedes Lackey, my favorite being the Herald Mage Trilogy. If you're a homophobe, stay away.
• Arthas, where are you?
  
• Yes, I like Harry Potter.
  
• Star Wars or Star Trek? Star Wars.
  
• I love Jager-Bombs. I was introduced to them on the islands and never turned back. I used to be a big Bailey's Irish Cream drinker. Now that's not to say I drink much, I rarely indulge and even then, only when others buy them for me ;-)
• Nothing beats a properly prepared Lucid Absinthe or mug of Mead.
• I'm a WoW gamer, I prefer the bad guys, you know, the Alliance? (I have huntard and Death Knight) keep your friends close, your enemies closer, but I've been gaming since the mid 80's (D&D and Dungeons of Moria, anyone?). SCA/LARP too. MMO gaming since UO beta.
  
• I do love me some role playing! Its fun, stress relief.
• I love Diet Pepsi.
  
• I write for stress relief too, mostly in the form of rants.
  
• I like to party (on occasion), with a limited number of friends but would rather hang out, chat up a storm or just sit back and relax, listening to good music.
• I blog to gripe, for the most part. I let all my frustrations out when I blog. Good therapy, otherwise I'd have to break things.
• Oh, and I love coffee... and Diet Pepsi. Did I mention that already?
  

In other words, I think I'm fairly normal.