Thinking Out Loud: Website and Text-Base RPG Possibilities

My ex likes RPG’s in any form, from your plain text-base rpg’s to larping.

After publishing my website and double-checking the formatting for the short story, he came to mind.

How?

Why?

Simple; formatting possibilities.

The formatting of my short story has a table of content under an image of the cover and its blurb. Each button links to all available parts and a spare “oops, nothing’s here” page, mostly for the sake of easier formatting. Also, by having it there, I can at least reassure the readers and visitor that there will be more content in a way that won’t make it feel like an error message or that I’m cheating them in some way.

With that table of content, instead of formatting it for next and previous pages of a short story in progress, I could do the same for different pages, linking the readers to different pages until they reach an end. This would be a digital version of a create your own scare goosebump book.

I proposed this idea to my ex. Whether he likes it or not, I don’t know yet. I don’t know if he will go through with it, but perhaps I’ll give it a try…
Why not? I would need to make sure I have multiple pages ready to go and make sure that I know which option goes where haha. It’ll be easy and fun to make and play though. It would be a matter of keeping track of all the different places and thinking up different ideas, but that’s part of writing. In order to improve myself as a writer, I need to be able to consider all possibilities, be able to write them out, and be able to figure out the best ones. This is incredibly difficult for me–I have a need to plan out every detail and there can only be one destination for the piece to end and one path for the characters to take. In my opinion, that’s a weak point. I need to be able to consider and accept multiple possibilities. This is one way that characters are like children; you can’t control everywhere they go in their life, you can only point them in the right direction. I need to push myself out of my comfort zone and stubbornness and maybe this can help with that. I can’t guarantee I’ll have the time for it, but I can try anyway. If anything It’s something worth trying.

Advertisements

Health and Job Update

My couch surfing problems are getting better, but getting worse at the same time.

Good News: My friend’s dad and stepmom are letting me stay for as long as I need, mostly because they know I’m a hard worker and that I’m determined to make a future for myself. I also got a job at Sam’s Club the other day, I just have to wait until after my doctor appointments to start (scheduling policy).
Bad News: There may be more than PCOS and Endometriosis. I’m not trying to create suspense–I don’t have a diagnosis yet.

Since the surgeon lost my paperwork on my last exam (Yes, he lost the paperwork, even the new gynecologist couldn’t believe it when I told her), the new doctor had to do them for the sake of having something on record. She was concerned and confused; certain things were perfectly normal while other things were in horrible shape, confirming and yet creating doubt of a diagnosis. One abnormal thing she found was the presence and severity of pelvic pain. I’m set up to see a specialist to consider every possible ailment, but the suffering body part is alarming considering the location and function of the muscles, bones and nerves.
I’m still not too sure how to feel about it all, or even how to react, mostly because I have no idea what it could possibly be.
Until my appointment with the pelvic specialist, I have medications to try, but I’m allowe3d to stop them if I get severe mood swings and/or if they don’t make a difference. Someone actually listened to me when I said that my body doesn’t handle estrogen normally; apparently I over-produce more than I thought and that severe mood swings is a sign that my body isn’t reacting to the medication properly. They want to check and make sure there’s not something wrong with another part of my body that’s causing the pain (they haven’t seen the reports yet, which is why they also doubt I actually have PCOS despite the photos and tests to prove it) before they operate.
About a week before, the surgeon told me to either have children to earn my chance to get treatment or go to another doctor. After growing up to have different views on parents, believing my Mr. or Mrs. Right will respect my medical problems instead of getting butthurt over fertility complications, wanting to adopt instead of making my own kids, not being in a good living, educational, or financial situation, and with lot odds of conception and successful delivery, that seemed like a stupid and cruel reason to deny pain relief and treatment on something that can easily mutate into cancer. On one level, I can understand the doctor’s thinking, however, there’s a difference between caring for a medical problem and getting a tattoo across my face.
Sam’s Club has policies about requesting time off and scheduling, however, I explained to my manager about my concerns, and luckily I would need to give notice three weeks in advance or bring in a doctor’s note if it has to be sooner and break that policy. Since there’s a lot of concern over the particular part of my body being affected, that if that part of the body is hit with something it’s hit hard, I should be okay. Many people have been asking me how and why I could have gotten a café job with them. The best answer I can give is that my determination to try something new, push through things holding me, and experience in emergency situations showed that I may last. I’m limited on jobs I can hunt for, at least until diagnosis, but I’m a stubborn hard worker just like my grandma.

I won’t give up on the world the same way Eloise did, but I’m just as determined to keep on fighting.

The Surgery Approx. 12 Hours Later…

It feels like it should’ve been a lot longer than 12 hours with how crazy it’s been.

I can’t believe it, I do have endometriosis.

I’m supposed to make an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow because my body was having trouble getting to normal. It shouldn’t count as a follow-up, so I doubt it’ll count into the global period‘s 3 post-op follow-up rule, but I’ll ask to make sure. Otherwise, I need to see him in a week to discuss the endometriosis he found, the one thing that means a hysterectomy now instead of a few years later. Since I have it, I feel better about googling it. I’m curious how the stage it’s progressed to will affect the operation, but I’ll find that out, and see some pictures of it, soon enough.

I almost cried when I came to–the pain was gone. Two years of misery finally granted me a break. I cannot count the incision pain. That’s something completely different. The relief almost brought me to tears. Even now, my eyes water at enjoying the relief.
In a way, I feel like my true self has finally shown herself, no longer bullied and harassed by the pain.

The pain form the incisions is keeping me up, but I know I’ll tire out eventually. Since the real problem of my pain has been removed, I can walk upright. I couldn’t do that in the last surgery. I feel so much stronger now and a lot less afraid. I’m extremely confident that the recovery will go well this time because I can feel that it will and that I’m in better hands and wielding a sharper sword.

Since they put IV’s into both wrists, it’ll be a day or two before I can allow myself to sit down and type thoroughly. I’m not able to draw either, mostly because of the carpel tunnel, but I’m probably going to stay asleep once I fall asleep. Until then, I’ve done what I can to prepare for an epic writing binge on that day. I think it’s a matter of finding a comfortable enough place or position to type or draw without upsetting the incisions’ healing.

I doubt I’d need to reopen and uncork pus like I did last time. I don’t think I can mentally handle doing that again. I have a feeling a lot of my problems come from having to do that since my internal and external infections weren’t taken seriously. Even if I do, I’m sure I’ll look back on it years from now and see how strong I was then and am now.

I look forward to writing with a little less distraction again. If nothing else, I’ll be able to write suffering physical pain really well right now haha!

I heavily suggest printing out the packet in the global period link. It explains the responsibility of the doctor and how insurance pays for it. This means a whole 30,000 dollars to me. It could mean just as much if not more to you.

Today’s Surgery and a Novel’s Ending: Closures of the Upteenth Kind

A lot of the things I’m discussing should have links to what they are upon their mentioning such as ganglion cyst and my blood type.

At the spur of the moment, an ex foster sister came to visit me today.

She’s the other foster sister in Oranges, well, was. In the few years we’ve been apart, both of us have changed a lot, and yet that small time we shared in the same foster home made a connection only we could share and understand.

My laparoscopy is in a few hours (I can’t sleep, but I’ll be knocked out for a while and I’ll probably sleep for one or two days straight, so I have zero concern over getting a few Z’s in for once). At the time, I still had roughly 20 hours until I should be knocked out.

She had told me that she had forgotten a good portion of her past and that because she had forgotten it, she wasn’t sure why and wasn’t sure if she should’ve been concerned. Upon my mention of our foster parents, a lot of things came back. The “disturbing and upsetting things” we talked about, reminiscing on memories that grew our bond, it showed my boyfriend and reminded my ex foster sister and I where we came from and what our overlooked world is like. Being out of it, it was a better feeling than one might think it would be. We could finally look back on what we survived and see what worse horrors we survived. Her visit was to reconnect on the last day I’d be healthy enough to socialize with for an unknown period of time (since my last one had so many things go wrong, I’m not planning around the whole “being fully recovered in less than a week” thing).

I looked back on what we shared and what I endured in the foster home after that, the one she didn’t know the details of until half an hour before she wanted to visit. I kept thinking about the proclaimed apology human services was forced to make.

Then everything clicked.

One of the most important things I learned from my experience as a writer thus far was to trust your gut. I knew that the particular characters, particular details, and particular scenes all came to me because they made sense and I just didn’t know how or why yet. Even my ex foster sister said everything happens for a reason. With how perfect timing has been with so many things, I can’t help but believe something big is definitely falling into place.

I figured out the final pieces to the allegory that I need to finally put it to a close. It was because the conflict I was trying to confront hadn’t come full circle yet, but it did during the apology. Everything else started making sense too. Whether I can seriously get to work on writing this depends on three things: my recovery, my carpal tunnel, and the ganglion cyst.
I happened to get diagnosed with those a few hours before my ex foster sister showed up, but that’s only another task to throw on top of recovery and awaiting the post-op’s report on whether I have endometriosis or not. Regardless, I just know the stent my physician gave me somehow makes the pain worse.

No matter what though, I’m confident I’ll come out of everything well enough to write this out. Yes, I’m easily injured and get sick easily, but I’m sturdy and stubborn. I have a feeling it’s one of the things I’m meant to do.

I’m almost certain I’ll try for traditional publishing on it this time. I don’t know how many books it’ll be or what separate story arcs would look like yet, but I found what I needed yesterday, and that’s all I need left to move forward. My health problems take up more thought and take up more concern (if carpel tunnel is going to limit my typing, writing and drawing, it’ll definitely cloud my mind more than it might in others). I don’t know what I can or should update on that yet, but I will when I make further progress on it.

As far as the surgery goes, I have my usual fears anyone would have with an exploratory surgery. Even more drama and tension comes into play thanks to my possible blood type. I’m almost certain I have the rare HH/Bombay blood type (click the links on things like this, even if they’re the wikipedia page for it, at this point in time, any proof it’s a rela thing is good). They plan to double check it, hoping Murphy’s Law isn’t happening with my blood type too. I’m hoping that either it isn’t and it’s no big deal, or that if it is I can have proof it’s not an error and a print of the link above to further explain it. Hearing doctors correct me that there’s only 5 types and no others exist is kind of unnerving, especially if they doubt your type when they also talk about you may needing a blood transfusion…
I’m worried about getting through the recovery stage than what he finds. I’ll eventually find out and I’ll get treatment for what can only be treated, I just don’t want another serious infection again. There’s an odd feeling of comfort in knowing incurable conditions can be treated. It takes fear of the unknown away to some degree. Yes, there are concerns and things to fear, but at least you know what the monsters look like.

I’m guessing I should wake up from the surgery about 12 hours from now. As my ex foster sister said back when we were stuck in that foster home; hope for the best, but expect the worst. I’m not planning for this to go well. I know better than to do that. Yes, I’m a bit scared, mostly of the pain from the IV and my general discomfort with seeing things that look painful. I know I’ll handle my own incisions after looking at them for a bit before having to clean them for the first time, but that’s a several-hour thing.

I’ll update whatever happens. In the mean time, please wish me luck on getting to get some writing and drawing done; I need my hand to function for cleaning my incisions too, but writing and drawing will keep me sane during recovery.

Please feel free to let me know if you have any questions you want me to follow up on in a future post, especially about the feminine conditions I’ve brought up here and prior. Education is essential to these kinds of situations and asking questions is one of the most important steps to progress.

Happiness Like an Acme Anvil and Technical Writing

I can’t point out exactly when it started.

Maybe it started when my grandmother quit smoking for my tenth birthday or the pneumonia her nicotine addiction lead to.
Maybe it was the discovery of her aneurism and the stress that drove me to attempt suicide.
Maybe it was that failed attempt that landed me in foster care.
Whenever the greatest challenges and duration in hell started, I now know that was temporary.

Last time, I was couch surfing. I had “come to realize the personal law of my life’s track”, that my current situation would be the best it will ever be and to enjoy what will be the peace in comparison to my future.

My godmother spoke with her hairdresser and found me a permanent home.

It reminded me then, and still does, of the flash fiction Pockets form the literary magazine I helped with. It was all about how the seemingly unimportant job of a dry cleaner influences the lives of all of her clients, brightening them to near impossible quality that no one else could achieve.

The woman she introduced me to suffered depression. Her puppy brought her an average of three smiles and laughs a day, but it wasn’t enough to help her care for herself with all the limits that come from having a leg amputated. The experience everyone called “child abuse and neglect” was now seen as “work experience”, connecting me to a kind woman who needed a friend just as much as she needed a care taker.

I have never met someone who encouraged my artistic side this much! Before, I wouldn’t have been able to do enough with my diorama for my art appreciation final. Thanks to her acceptance, I did the impossible; my extra creativity got me enough extra credit points to get an A instead of the B she said was the highest letter grade possible.

I may not have gotten the grades in time to keep my job with the computer lab, but it’s opened up considerations that may lead to opportunities.

After helping a friend’s ex with his technical writing final, I was able to test my suggested talent in technical writing, only to find out that the talent other people saw was indeed there. There is still art and creativity in technical writing just as there is logic in art.

To my surprise, he liked my diorama enough to keep it (I didn’t want to keep it, so I didn’t fully care what happened to it). The creativity that got the points was a hand-painted fish on the top. It was my first time painting anything in about five years, and even then I just learned the basics of mixing paint and the color wheel.

His social and talkative nature took over from there when he showed it off to others.
I now have a few commissions for koi thank you cards amongst other pieces.

As for writing and literary art, I’m going to switch my degree to technical writing and transfer to a university and leave my community college. The sudden increase of ease and happiness with a permanent home that allows creativity and is okay with temporary unemployment (even better, Denise is patient about this) allows me to progress. I no longer need to struggle to stay stable, I can now work hard and move forward.

koi for blog

This is the best quality picture I have at the moment, sorry. I’ll share any commission or art selling information if/when available.

The Gray Clouds Have Cleared

I haven’t been able to give a proper update. In a way, I still can’t. To respect the privacy of those involved, I cannot give away very much detail. I also do not want to instill negative judgment upon “guilty parties”, so if I come across that way, understand that I do not intend to make anyone out as a villain.

I had moved in with my boyfriend at the time. However, it didn’t work out for too long. It ended very drastically with a trip to the hospital, however, misunderstandings were cleared and everyone was fine.

I then went to stay with my godmother until I could find a place to live. In the meantime, my ex, whom I just had the problems with, wanted me back and wanted me to buy a house with him. Despite his wishes and his good intent, in my opinion, he wasn’t approaching it well and said and planned things that only added enough stress on me to set off triggers.

Everyone has their set of things that can bring out their most depressive or aggressive sides. I firmly believe in respecting them, but that the individual may also need to practice on controlling them—I know difficult things in one’s past are not easy to get over, but it is just as much of a responsibility on others to respect someone else’s limits as it is on the person to try and smooth out as many of those as possible. I have improved my ability to tolerate bullying about my history in foster care. Many foster youth still explode when someone makes fun of them for it or calls them a leech on government money. I would get offended the same way, but it was best for me to try and understand that many insults are said out of ignorance with the intent to get under my skin. I may not be able to cure them of their ignorance, but I can keep from giving them what they want and encouraging that behavior.

Anyway, so I eventually dropped contact with him in order to allow both of us to get over our own troubles in life.

I don’t know if it was the work of God, C’thulu, the spaghetti monster, or what, but by some miracle or crazy coincidence, everything cleared up the very next day, all within 24 hours of dropping contact.

A woman wants me to move in with her. The plan is that I would help her out around the house to earn a place to stay. Since she is elderly, disabled due to a recent injury, and training a puppy, I would be able to earn a reasonable keep. From what I was told, she heard about this offer around Friday or Saturday and spent the weekend preparing a spare bedroom in her house for me. She wanted the bedroom ready before telling my godmother it was a yes. I have plans to meet her tonight after class.

I also received an important letter in the mail right after dropping contact—it was written approval for Medicaid. I am now able to get my current problems taken care of!

I was so happy and relieved that I cried. I couldn’t help it. The bright, summer sun finally shined out from behind the dark storm clouds.
I have this need to care for others. I’ve noticed that it’s a problem when someone may not need it. I didn’t realize it until my relationship with the most recent boyfriend ended that it can be interpreted as mocking, even suggesting an unhealthy perception of how relationships work and how affection is demonstrated. This wasn’t my intention of course, but it’s a personality trait that can be too much of a good thing if you don’t know when to apply it or how to control it.

Now that I have fewer things to worry about, I have time to focus on my writing again. I have already earned a lot of experience to write about. I look forward to even more. For starters, I’m sure I’ll need to apply training and raising a puppy to a piece in the future. The obvious experience with my ex and new experience of hopefully growing my family with this woman and her relatives will definitely show up in future work. I hope you look forward to reading about it just as much as I look forward to writing about it.

I hope everyone enjoyed Easter.

In Memory of the Angel in the Flour Sack Dress

My grandmother’s birthday is today.
I don’t know if she would have been 79 or 84 though—the year she gave me was 1935, but I knew she took off 5 years from her birth certificate several years before I was even born. I don’t know if ’35 is the actual year or the new year she had on her birth certificate. Anyone who would have known has passed away too.

Every year on her birthday and the anniversary of her death, I create something in memory of her. In my childhood, she was literally the only one who not only allowed but encouraged my creative side, believing she had no right to take away a part of who I really was when the world was already trying and going to. My creative side resided in drawing and writing, advancing into creative writing. Had she discouraged it, I probably wouldn’t have done well enough in English while in foster care to have survived. With that, I view my success as her doing. I not only have to thank her for that, but for raising me from infancy to fifteen years of age. Even if people didn’t like her and didn’t want me to mourn over her death, I vow to be the person to always respect her as a human when no one else will.

This time around, there will be multiple pieces created and things done in her honor. I intend to take the next step towards creating pieces I had in mind. I originally wanted to just create a 9X12 graphite and colored pencil drawing, but she would have wanted me to branch out to keep my creative side alive, so for her, I’ll try creating a painting of it too.

I have written poetry and allowed myself to write difficult things in dedication to her. I may do the same, but I still want to create visual work too.

They will be late, mostly due to any submission windows not being open for a while and thus wanting to prepare for the window that opens around December. However, she was never one for receiving presents, or much kindness for that matter. I suppose I’m disrespecting her wishes by making things in honor to her, but she wouldn’t expect anything else from me.