Hey readers!
So, I talk a lot about fanfiction, ocs, rps, and fandom things on here because they mean so so much to me. Well, my best friend - one of the first people I ever met in fandom and who's introduced me to so so much - is offering commission fics.
Now, commission fics are something you don't hear about very often.
Artists commission art all the time.
But for someone to offer to write fanfiction based on word count tailored to exactly what you want - that's very few and far between.
In fact, he's the first person I know who's doing it.
Let me emphasize this:
He is the first and only person I know who's offering tailored fic commissions.
I'm one of those people that I won't out of hand sell you something if I don't think it's worth it, friend or not. I'm also one of those people who has never spent money on a commission even though I've thought about it.
My friend is one of the best writers I know, and his work is amazing. I have fics he's written me over the course of knowing him that I re-read all the time because they are so well done and wonderful. From one writer to another, you will definitely get your money's worth out his commissions.
He writes for the fandoms of Metal Gear Solid (MGS), Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Overwatch, and the Witcher.
He writes ships, singles, OCs, self ships, and almost any kink you can imagine - meaning, if it's niche, there's a chance he'll write it for you if you ask. (He does, as all writers and artists do, have the right to turn you down, but he doesn't bite - so don't be shy and definitely ask.)
He has examples of his writing from an old AO3 account on his information page, but I wanted to add the other two fics that I like: extra example 1 and extra example 2.
You can find his awesome commission info page here.
I do, in fact, have a list of several fics that I'm going to see if he'll commission once I get the money in the next two weeks.
And if that doesn't say it all, I don't know what does.
~Birdie
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Friday, July 29, 2016
Thursday, July 28, 2016
The Thursday Anomaly
Hey readers!
I couldn't help myself. This week there is a Thursday update.
(Consider this a compensation for deleting the Monday post. I'm trying to avoid things like "lol" on here, but just imagine I'm shaking my head and laughing to myself lightly over it. Cause I am.)
Alright, so, couple of things I feel like chatting about today, because I can't get my brain to hold still for the life of me.
(That started last night when I couldn't hold a train of thought long enough to help myself sleep. You know how it is: you pick something to think about as you fall asleep and it helps you. Last night, I kept grabbing at the meditations I've been learning, but they kept getting interrupted by random pop songs and writing ideas I'm not gonna get on paper among other things. At least I kept them away from school stuff. I even went outside and sat in the wind and grass for an hour before trying to go to bed, hoping to get my brain to Just. Shut. Up. When they say manic days with bipolar feel like a fucking train barreling through your mind, they are not kidding; that is how it is exactly. I am strung.)
Alright, anyway.
I've started knitting a new shawl and honestly, it's insane.
I've wanted to knit it for a while now, and so for my birthday what feels like a lifetime ago, my parents helped me get the yarn and beads for it. I bought really nice sock yarn (Dream in Color, Smooshy in the colorway Black Parade - I know, I've been shit talking [not on here] the cycle of emo and scene stuff coming back around, but a little MCR in my yarn can't hurt) and some really nice beads.
It's a good concentration project. The pattern is 19 pages of charts essentially, and one of those has over 500 stitches across 8 pages.
I've started using a highlighter to help me. If I highlight a row, I know I need to knit the row above it.
Normally I use sticky notes, but for an eventual 8 page row, that's pretty unrealistic.
I also cut out the yarn overs (the things that make the holes next to the beads) because I think they look tacky in this situation.
So far, the Little Dipper is fully formed and several other constellations are on the rise.
(Get it? Cause constellations rise and set across the sky and - nevermind.)
I would share pictures, but I'm so bad about them. As soon as I finish my current chart, I'm sending some to friends, but otherwise...use your imagination. It's awesome.
We are on Day Two of Operation Pink Eye.
I found out yesterday that some people have never had pink eye or know what it is.
(I found this out talking to someone on one of my social media sites who thought for a moment I might seriously get hurt from it.)
I think I kind of assumed that everyone was familiar with it, especially with how easily it spreads with kids.
I stand corrected.
So lucky for all of you, I've decided it might be a good idea to explain the process of it.
Basically, pink eye is a virus in your eye. Now, this sounds gross, and it kind of is.
What happens is your eye gets really irritated and turns bloodshot, aka where the pink portion comes from. Some people experience itching with it. For me, my eye just gets sore. There's watering and crust forms along your eyelash lines as well as the corners of your eyes.
It's gross, but nothing antibiotic eye drops can't handle.
Sometimes though, you get it in one eye, and then almost overnight you get it in the other.
Aka, double pink eye.
That's the beautiful thing I woke up to this morning.
Yay, eye drops.
My husband and I finally made it to the pool yesterday.
Now, let me tell you the saga of the pool.
The pool in our apartment complex opens every year over Memorial Day weekend. This year, however, someone got the really smart idea that the pool needed repairs.
Which, truthfully, it did.
But this prolonged the pool opening. Initially it was going to open at the end of June.
It didn't open until about two weeks ago.
Normally, I am a mermaid essentially and am at the pool almost every day.
(Flip side of this is that I've been walking an insane amount to get out of my head since I couldn't get to the water. Let me tell you, Colorado is full of hills and the two mile loop I do feels like I'm hiking mountains on a bad day - I'm not, for the record, I live in the city.)
And then, the water was freezing when we went the first time.
So we went yesterday and - I swear it was like magic - the water was actually warm enough that we could swim without dying of hypothermia.
It was great.
(I'm still annoyed with how long it took them to do the repairs. They did our parking lot too, but took more time than expected, so we ended up losing several days of parking. Gotta love summer, I suppose.)
Alright, I could ramble on forever today - I honestly can't sit still - so we should leave it here.
Actually, wait, I lied.
Same person online who never had pink eye sent me this. Imagine every "HOA board member, I want to speak to a manager, my kid is smarter than yours" white woman you know.
Yeah.
That's Gayle.
Watch it and have a laugh. It absolutely cracks me up.
Alright, happy Thursday!
~Birdie
I couldn't help myself. This week there is a Thursday update.
(Consider this a compensation for deleting the Monday post. I'm trying to avoid things like "lol" on here, but just imagine I'm shaking my head and laughing to myself lightly over it. Cause I am.)
Alright, so, couple of things I feel like chatting about today, because I can't get my brain to hold still for the life of me.
(That started last night when I couldn't hold a train of thought long enough to help myself sleep. You know how it is: you pick something to think about as you fall asleep and it helps you. Last night, I kept grabbing at the meditations I've been learning, but they kept getting interrupted by random pop songs and writing ideas I'm not gonna get on paper among other things. At least I kept them away from school stuff. I even went outside and sat in the wind and grass for an hour before trying to go to bed, hoping to get my brain to Just. Shut. Up. When they say manic days with bipolar feel like a fucking train barreling through your mind, they are not kidding; that is how it is exactly. I am strung.)
Alright, anyway.
I've started knitting a new shawl and honestly, it's insane.
I've wanted to knit it for a while now, and so for my birthday what feels like a lifetime ago, my parents helped me get the yarn and beads for it. I bought really nice sock yarn (Dream in Color, Smooshy in the colorway Black Parade - I know, I've been shit talking [not on here] the cycle of emo and scene stuff coming back around, but a little MCR in my yarn can't hurt) and some really nice beads.
It's a good concentration project. The pattern is 19 pages of charts essentially, and one of those has over 500 stitches across 8 pages.
I've started using a highlighter to help me. If I highlight a row, I know I need to knit the row above it.
Normally I use sticky notes, but for an eventual 8 page row, that's pretty unrealistic.
I also cut out the yarn overs (the things that make the holes next to the beads) because I think they look tacky in this situation.
So far, the Little Dipper is fully formed and several other constellations are on the rise.
(Get it? Cause constellations rise and set across the sky and - nevermind.)
I would share pictures, but I'm so bad about them. As soon as I finish my current chart, I'm sending some to friends, but otherwise...use your imagination. It's awesome.
We are on Day Two of Operation Pink Eye.
I found out yesterday that some people have never had pink eye or know what it is.
(I found this out talking to someone on one of my social media sites who thought for a moment I might seriously get hurt from it.)
I think I kind of assumed that everyone was familiar with it, especially with how easily it spreads with kids.
I stand corrected.
So lucky for all of you, I've decided it might be a good idea to explain the process of it.
Basically, pink eye is a virus in your eye. Now, this sounds gross, and it kind of is.
What happens is your eye gets really irritated and turns bloodshot, aka where the pink portion comes from. Some people experience itching with it. For me, my eye just gets sore. There's watering and crust forms along your eyelash lines as well as the corners of your eyes.
It's gross, but nothing antibiotic eye drops can't handle.
Sometimes though, you get it in one eye, and then almost overnight you get it in the other.
Aka, double pink eye.
That's the beautiful thing I woke up to this morning.
Yay, eye drops.
My husband and I finally made it to the pool yesterday.
Now, let me tell you the saga of the pool.
The pool in our apartment complex opens every year over Memorial Day weekend. This year, however, someone got the really smart idea that the pool needed repairs.
Which, truthfully, it did.
But this prolonged the pool opening. Initially it was going to open at the end of June.
It didn't open until about two weeks ago.
Normally, I am a mermaid essentially and am at the pool almost every day.
(Flip side of this is that I've been walking an insane amount to get out of my head since I couldn't get to the water. Let me tell you, Colorado is full of hills and the two mile loop I do feels like I'm hiking mountains on a bad day - I'm not, for the record, I live in the city.)
And then, the water was freezing when we went the first time.
So we went yesterday and - I swear it was like magic - the water was actually warm enough that we could swim without dying of hypothermia.
It was great.
(I'm still annoyed with how long it took them to do the repairs. They did our parking lot too, but took more time than expected, so we ended up losing several days of parking. Gotta love summer, I suppose.)
Alright, I could ramble on forever today - I honestly can't sit still - so we should leave it here.
Actually, wait, I lied.
Same person online who never had pink eye sent me this. Imagine every "HOA board member, I want to speak to a manager, my kid is smarter than yours" white woman you know.
Yeah.
That's Gayle.
Watch it and have a laugh. It absolutely cracks me up.
Alright, happy Thursday!
~Birdie
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
The Wednesday Post
Hey readers!
I had a Monday post, but I ended up deleting it. It was basically me rambling about stuff while in a depressed mood and honestly, I was kind of embarrassed a few hours after posting, so I took it down.
Not a bad thing.
It happens to all of us.
There is a reason one of my English professors said she burned all her journals when her kids were born.
Sometimes, we write shit we feel weird about later.
(I think I'm going to burn my journals too before I have kids. Too much personal stuff, and embarrassing stuff at that. I made it through, I don't need the reminders of braces boy, my coming of age, and various depressive spells throughout high school and community college.)
I don't know what to write today, though, to be honest.
It's Wednesday, but it's summer and the days are blurring for me.
I was diagnosed with pink eye and a fever today, which explains a lot about why my eye hurts and keeps watering. Might also explain my headaches from the past few days.
I got some spiffy eye drops.
I can't remember the last time something like this happened.
I think it was when I was working with a tutoring company back in 2009?
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Kids man.
They spread illness like it's medieval England.
Dunno where I got this one, but I'm glad it's not strep.
I'm realizing school's going to be hell this fall.
The only reason I chose a late class was because I wanted a particular professor.
(She runs ComicCon for my city and is honestly one of my favorite professors. If anyone can make Milton interesting, I'm betting my semester that it's her. I'm going to cry otherwise.)
My sister is also coming to school and has a class earlier and later than me.
I volunteered to stay on campus with her because crime rates have gone up and there's no way in hell I'm not going to be there with her after dark.
So I'm going to be on campus for 12 and a half hours twice a week, only in class for about five of those, and the breaks are spread out in such a way that I can't go home and back easily.
Plus field experience twice a week.
Thank god for escapism, complicated knitting projects, and my friends and husband.
Otherwise, I think I might die.
I hate being downtown to begin with.
I hate being there after dark.
I hate the fear of it and the fact that I have yet to figure out a way to get over it.
We'll see how things go.
I think this about sums up things?
Yeah.
Anxiety is still present in my stomach, and I think it will always be there in a little knot, but it's mellowed some. At least, to the point where I'm back to functioning like a normal person, which thank god for because honestly, it was getting really hard to breathe for a while there.
I've kind of chilled about writing.
I hit that point where I keep hitting a blank wall.
I've tried writing canon characters.
I've tried writing my OCs in the canon and AU verses.
Hell, I tried writing a character for a novel I've had in my head for over two years.
Nothing.
I'm not so much frustrated about it as I am sad.
I didn't realize how much this got me through summer until I couldn't do it anymore.
Maybe a break is good.
But it still makes me sad.
I think I'm trying too hard.
It's supposed to be fun and I'm taking it too seriously.
Learning to relax and go with things is so difficult for me, so it's time to learn, bit by bit.
I live so much by rules...when there are none or I can't make some, it's...I worry I'm doing things wrong.
I'm learning.
Again, like I said at the start of this post, not a bad thing.
It happens to all of us, in different ways.
We learn and grow.
And my eye is stinging again.
I think that's a good place to leave this.
~Birdie
I had a Monday post, but I ended up deleting it. It was basically me rambling about stuff while in a depressed mood and honestly, I was kind of embarrassed a few hours after posting, so I took it down.
Not a bad thing.
It happens to all of us.
There is a reason one of my English professors said she burned all her journals when her kids were born.
Sometimes, we write shit we feel weird about later.
(I think I'm going to burn my journals too before I have kids. Too much personal stuff, and embarrassing stuff at that. I made it through, I don't need the reminders of braces boy, my coming of age, and various depressive spells throughout high school and community college.)
I don't know what to write today, though, to be honest.
It's Wednesday, but it's summer and the days are blurring for me.
I was diagnosed with pink eye and a fever today, which explains a lot about why my eye hurts and keeps watering. Might also explain my headaches from the past few days.
I got some spiffy eye drops.
I can't remember the last time something like this happened.
I think it was when I was working with a tutoring company back in 2009?
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Kids man.
They spread illness like it's medieval England.
Dunno where I got this one, but I'm glad it's not strep.
I'm realizing school's going to be hell this fall.
The only reason I chose a late class was because I wanted a particular professor.
(She runs ComicCon for my city and is honestly one of my favorite professors. If anyone can make Milton interesting, I'm betting my semester that it's her. I'm going to cry otherwise.)
My sister is also coming to school and has a class earlier and later than me.
I volunteered to stay on campus with her because crime rates have gone up and there's no way in hell I'm not going to be there with her after dark.
So I'm going to be on campus for 12 and a half hours twice a week, only in class for about five of those, and the breaks are spread out in such a way that I can't go home and back easily.
Plus field experience twice a week.
Thank god for escapism, complicated knitting projects, and my friends and husband.
Otherwise, I think I might die.
I hate being downtown to begin with.
I hate being there after dark.
I hate the fear of it and the fact that I have yet to figure out a way to get over it.
We'll see how things go.
I think this about sums up things?
Yeah.
Anxiety is still present in my stomach, and I think it will always be there in a little knot, but it's mellowed some. At least, to the point where I'm back to functioning like a normal person, which thank god for because honestly, it was getting really hard to breathe for a while there.
I've kind of chilled about writing.
I hit that point where I keep hitting a blank wall.
I've tried writing canon characters.
I've tried writing my OCs in the canon and AU verses.
Hell, I tried writing a character for a novel I've had in my head for over two years.
Nothing.
I'm not so much frustrated about it as I am sad.
I didn't realize how much this got me through summer until I couldn't do it anymore.
Maybe a break is good.
But it still makes me sad.
I think I'm trying too hard.
It's supposed to be fun and I'm taking it too seriously.
Learning to relax and go with things is so difficult for me, so it's time to learn, bit by bit.
I live so much by rules...when there are none or I can't make some, it's...I worry I'm doing things wrong.
I'm learning.
Again, like I said at the start of this post, not a bad thing.
It happens to all of us, in different ways.
We learn and grow.
And my eye is stinging again.
I think that's a good place to leave this.
~Birdie
Friday, July 22, 2016
Friday Funday
Hey there readers!
So Friday posts are now going to be called "Friday Funday" because honestly, why not. I like how cheesy it sounds, so...here we are.
Today my husband and I went to go see the new Star Trek movie. It was a belated birthday gift from him (my birthday was last week, so we postponed lunch and a movie until this week cause Star Trek) and lemme tell you.
It was great.
Now, I'm a Star Trek fan.
This is not to say I'm a die hard one.
I like the original series and I love the new reboot movies.
I know a lot of people have issues with the reboots or can quote episodes of TOS or Deep Space or The Next Generation.
I am not that person.
I am a casual fan.
(That being said, I do have fanfiction up somewhere online for the reboot films that I wrote when I was 19 and I kind of cringe at when I think about them. It is what it is. I could probably take them offline, but...eh.)
Anyway, back to the new movie. I'm going to do my best not to spoil it (I'm not talking plot but characters more than anything), but if that is something you're worried about, you might want to turn back.
This film was decidedly better than the second one, in my opinion. The villain felt better rounded out. It was less predictable - I was on the edge of my seat most of it, whereas with the second one I knew it was Khan almost from the start and could put the pieces together fairly quickly. This one kept me guessing, and was clever at it.
The character developments were also great. We got to see a lot of the relationship between McCoy and Spock, which I loved - their salty attitudes with each other (yes, Spock can be salty) are one of my favorite things ever. We got to see a lot more of Scotty and Chekov, which I also loved. Plus Sulu had a bigger part.
All around, great characters.
Now, this is where I probably will get some push back.
I know a lot of people from the start have shipped Kirk and Spock or Spock and McCoy. I for one - while not being opposed to those - love Spock and Uhura as a pairing. She's the emotional side for him while he balances her with his logical rationality. This isn't to say that Uhura isn't logical - she very much is - but they make a great pairing.
(I might be biased as I'm married to a man who sometimes acts like Spock.)
So yes, that was in the film as well. But it was handled so well. I don't want to spoil that for anyone, but just.
Honestly, the whole movie was handled really well.
Overall, 10 out of 10.
And this has been the Friday Funday. :)
Happy weekends, everyone!
~Birdie
So Friday posts are now going to be called "Friday Funday" because honestly, why not. I like how cheesy it sounds, so...here we are.
Today my husband and I went to go see the new Star Trek movie. It was a belated birthday gift from him (my birthday was last week, so we postponed lunch and a movie until this week cause Star Trek) and lemme tell you.
It was great.
Now, I'm a Star Trek fan.
This is not to say I'm a die hard one.
I like the original series and I love the new reboot movies.
I know a lot of people have issues with the reboots or can quote episodes of TOS or Deep Space or The Next Generation.
I am not that person.
I am a casual fan.
(That being said, I do have fanfiction up somewhere online for the reboot films that I wrote when I was 19 and I kind of cringe at when I think about them. It is what it is. I could probably take them offline, but...eh.)
Anyway, back to the new movie. I'm going to do my best not to spoil it (I'm not talking plot but characters more than anything), but if that is something you're worried about, you might want to turn back.
This film was decidedly better than the second one, in my opinion. The villain felt better rounded out. It was less predictable - I was on the edge of my seat most of it, whereas with the second one I knew it was Khan almost from the start and could put the pieces together fairly quickly. This one kept me guessing, and was clever at it.
The character developments were also great. We got to see a lot of the relationship between McCoy and Spock, which I loved - their salty attitudes with each other (yes, Spock can be salty) are one of my favorite things ever. We got to see a lot more of Scotty and Chekov, which I also loved. Plus Sulu had a bigger part.
All around, great characters.
Now, this is where I probably will get some push back.
I know a lot of people from the start have shipped Kirk and Spock or Spock and McCoy. I for one - while not being opposed to those - love Spock and Uhura as a pairing. She's the emotional side for him while he balances her with his logical rationality. This isn't to say that Uhura isn't logical - she very much is - but they make a great pairing.
(I might be biased as I'm married to a man who sometimes acts like Spock.)
So yes, that was in the film as well. But it was handled so well. I don't want to spoil that for anyone, but just.
Honestly, the whole movie was handled really well.
Overall, 10 out of 10.
And this has been the Friday Funday. :)
Happy weekends, everyone!
~Birdie
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
The Wednesday Lowdown
Hey there, readers!
I really wanted a clever title for the blog post. See, I was thinking that for the rest of the summer I would update on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then when school starts in August, I would do Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursdays (since Tuesdays and Thursdays I'm at school and will have time between classes to write so I don't lose my mind) with the possibility of occasional posts should something exciting happens.
I was hoping to keep the titles consistent, so like Sundays would be listed as "Sunday Editions" and stuff, but I can't figure out enough newspaper puns at the moment. So for now, it is what it is.
At least it will be consistent.
Anyway, this was not what I wanted to blog about today.
Actually, in all honesty you guys, my blogs tend to be random, so I normally don't have a plan when I write them. Monday was an exception because there was so much I needed to cover. Normally though, I can't promise what you're going to get.
Again, not what I wanted to blog about.
Someone is making me fanart.
Someone online offered to pay me money to write a fic because they like what I write so much that they wanted more.
Can we talk about this for a moment?
Remember in the previous blog post I mentioned the MGS fandom saving me during a dark period and how I write a lot for the fandom? Yeah, so apparently I make more waves than I thought because people online actually know who I am due to my writing. People online actually like my writing. You know, the stuff I can chunk out in handfuls when I'm on a good day, the stuff that I like writing but that I also worry about posting because frankly, there is so much good fanfiction out there.
I am so floored.
I feel like I'm this wholly unremarkable person, and yet, people like what I do, (and for some reason, they like me too, but that's a post for another time). And some of the people who mention it are people who's writing I adore, so it's a little like being star struck. And the whole reason I do it is because it makes me happy and it makes my friends happy.
And then I found out that someone really wanted more of a particular series I was writing, and when I reached out to her to offer to write her one, she had a mini meltdown and proceeded to tell me that she would pay me or do fanart or both as a thanks.
Again, I am floored.
I declined the money.
I mean, I'm broke as fuck (I have a dollar to my name until school starts) but this isn't why I do what I do.
If you're kind to me, I will happily bend over backwards for you.
If you ask and I like you or know you, I'll write you anything in reason.
(That goes beyond fanfiction. Kindness goes a long way.)
Anyway.
I'm getting a piece of fanart.
Of my favorite OC.
With her canon character beau.
I feel like crying.
It means so much to me that people actually think enough of me to offer these sort of things.
And to be kind enough to work with Andi.
Alright, honestly, I love Andi so fucking much.
She's my favorite character I've ever made, and I get to explore so much through her.
Every time I write her or RP her or talk about her or get to share her with anyone, it just.
It's like there's a piece of me that gets away from everything and gets to love my girl instead, even if it's just for a small fic or quick reply or brief conversation.
I'm learning to love myself through her.
I've been incredibly fortunate, too, cause my bff, my husband, and my sister all get an earful from time to time, and they are so patient with me, and actually...like her too.
See, this is the beauty of fanfiction, folks.
You can have these characters you love and make characters you love, and they get you through.
They give you something to look forward to and something to get out of your head.
It is a legit writing form, and no one will ever tell me otherwise.
I encourage it.
Which actually, let's talk about OCs for a moment, since I'm gushing about mine.
There are times you will not like someone's OC.
You will feel competitive or frustrated that they're everywhere or just annoyed in general.
This has happened in one of the tags I follow.
You will feel competitive or frustrated that they're everywhere or just annoyed in general.
This has happened in one of the tags I follow.
But that does not give you the right to publicly drag the character or the person who created them. It makes me so mad that people do that.
Frankly, I don't like a lot of OCs.
But the amount of love that goes into them does not deserve me coming along and to the creator's face telling them I dislike them.
Frankly, I don't like a lot of OCs.
But the amount of love that goes into them does not deserve me coming along and to the creator's face telling them I dislike them.
We all love our OCs.
If you don't like them, move along quietly.
Feel free to bitch to your friends, but please, just ignore us in public.
Call outs are cruel.
Anyway, back to the point.
I am getting fanart of my favorite OC by a girl who is super kind and likes my writing and is officially the second person to ever draw her.
(My bff drew some great Andi stuff that is my phone wall paper, and I will never, ever get rid of the art. Ever. It means so much to me.)
I am, in fact, blown away.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to end this post and go squeal a bit while trying to knit something.
(Next post will be about that, brace yourselves. I got yarn for a really cool project, bwahaha.)
~Birdie
Monday, July 18, 2016
A Letter to My Readers
Hello readers!
To those of you who still follow me, you deserve more than a gold medal.
To those of you who are new...well.
Here's your welcome letter.
Bear with me, this is an incredibly long post.
But it's important.
So once upon a time, I ran a blog called All the Stars and Boulevards. Some of you may or may not remember it. I was young (high school into early years of college) and I named it after a song by Augustana (pretty sure they aren't around anymore).
I was so very good at updating.
It was like a personal diary and I couldn't stop.
I wrote about my job.
I wrote about my life, my friends, people who made me mad, people who I loved.
But then one day I decided to drop it.
There were too many things going on.
I couldn't sort personal from what is acceptable to share.
So I walked away.
I tried a knitting blog, inspired by the Yarn Harlot.
That didn't work well.
It was too hard for me to stay on top of pictures and projects.
I gave up.
I created a book blog.
That was a school project for a Young Adult Literature class I was taking.
I was very proud of it (I still am) but try as I might, I can't get myself to go back to it.
Somewhere in the middle, this beautiful blog came about.
The quote is from Rumi, and it's always resonated with me.
The point of this blog was to do what the original blog did, but better.
And then I stopped blogging altogether.
There are periodic posts here and there on this blog, jumbled and confused and whatever else.
But I want to be back for good this time. I have so many things in my head and what better way than to skewer myself on the Internet. Maybe I should keep things private; after all, so many things have happened.
Keeping it private doesn't help anyone else though. And besides, I'm learning people online mean well overall, and if anyone wants to talk, it opens me up for that.
Alright. Up to speed so far?
Excellent.
This is where the tornado starts.
Hold on Dorothy, this isn't Kansas anymore.
So what happened to make me stop?
Maybe I explained everything in a previous post somewhere, but I have no desire to go through my archives. I might actually burn them so this can be a fresh start. So let's go with a fresh start.
My sister's fiance killed himself.
Wait, let's go back further.
I got married.
Wait, stuff came before that.
Let's go back to the beginning, actually.
2014 was the most stressful year I'd had in a really long time. I had just figured out, after an associates and a year at a four year school, what I wanted to do with my life. At first I thought I wanted to be a park ranger. But if I had paid attention to what my associates said ("creative writing"), I would have realized sooner that I'm drawn to words. English Education finally came to me, and it's a fantastic fit. So I was switching from a highly stressful education path to an equally stressful one, the key being I was (and still am) in love with it.
That was the summer of my sister's fiance as well, a man who could be charming and funny but turn on a dime. He had Type I Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and several other things going on.
Mental disorders tend to get glossed over. We're afraid to talk about them, and we're afraid to deal with them. I'm ashamed to say that I was afraid to deal with his.
What ended up happening instead was a summer of him harassing me to the point where I was afraid to go home if I saw a car that even remotely looked like his, and me not knowing how to deal with it and not knowing how to sort what was just manipulative from his environment (because there was a lot of that going on) and what was biological.
The records of text messages I kept that summer filled a file folder.
My sister still loved him.
I started seeing a therapist and psychiatrist.
My anxiety attacks went through the roof and I was put on low doses of antidepressants (which didn't make me feel better) and Xanax as needed.
The year passed.
2015 showed great promise.
I brought my GPA up a bit, planned my wedding, and just generally loved life. School ended well in the spring semester - I got to try so many things, a painting class and meeting authors and just so many wonderful things.
I got married.
It was beautiful and simple and I felt like a princess. My husband and I have been together since 2011; he's the only person I've ever been with, and I love him so much. We spent a week afterwards trying to figure out further plans. We still lived (and still do live) with my parents because the economy is so bad and we're both full time students, but it works out. It worked out.
Everything was wonderful and my life felt right.
And then everything wasn't okay.
Suicide is a very difficult thing to talk about. It's hard, it's stigmatized like so many other things, and it scares a lot of people. But that's what happened, and I'm tired of sugar coating it. I've tip toed telling people what really happened. I'm sick of pitying looks and I know everyone else is too.
My therapist once told me that when someone dies of cancer or other illness, we are sad, but we often say that they're no longer in pain.
The same should go for suicide.
It's not something we wish on anyone, and so many people react in anger to the person who left.
But we can't know how much pain that person was in, and on some level, they aren't hurting any more.
Life is so complicated sometimes.
So here it is:
My sister's fiance shot himself in the head.
We were on vacation to see my relatives who live out of state. We were sharing our wedding and our photos, how beautiful everything was. My husband and I were happy, and even though all five of us (my sister, the two of us, and my parents) were crammed in a single hotel room for a week, it was good. Every time I see my family, it's good.
He was not invited, for reasons listed way above.
We dropped my sister off at her apartment, my dad walking her up to the door.
They found the body.
They found an extra bullet waiting for her on the night stand table.
She later told us that if my dad hadn't been there, she would have used it.
We still cry when we think about it.
I still remember hearing her scream and knowing exactly what had happened before anyone could tell me as I sat in the van.
I still remember thinking I had to go to the bathroom but would rather wait than ask to use theirs.
I would have seen the body as well if I hadn't waited.
I still remember that he was only a month older than me.
So then of course there is so much to deal with.
My sister's pain.
His family and how in their hurt, they handled my sister so poorly.
How all of us felt some piece of guilt.
How when I threw that file of text messages away, I wondered (and still do) if I could have somehow made thing different.
I used to have nightmares where I could hear her scream still.
I would close my eyes, see her face and hear her sobs as I held her with my mom and husband.
I tried to change the tracks.
I tried to not take Xanax daily.
I tried to avoid it until I couldn't any longer.
I couldn't imagine how hard it hurt her.
I still can't.
Somehow we made it through the summer.
School started again in the fall.
I was diagnosed with Type II Bipolar Disorder on the first day of school.
I would have been diagnosed sooner if I hadn't spent a year lying to everyone because I was afraid of turning out like him.
It wasn't the end of the world even though I thought it was on that August day as I cried on the train.
The world still hasn't ended.
If anything, it's gotten better for me.
I'm back to rapid cycling, but it's no longer daily.
I cycle about weekly now.
And I have an appointment to tweak that this week.
There is always hope.
But before that, I couldn't see it.
And then, my husband got me interested in something. There is a game series called Metal Gear Solid. Perhaps you are familiar with it. I don't play video games, but he's played it from the first game all the way through the Phantom Pain, the last installment. I watched a few of the missions, and I was blown away by the care put into these characters.
I researched.
For the first time since I graduated community college, I started to write.
I wrote a character. I wrote in the world of the established characters with the support and encouragement of my husband.
(He loves that I'm part of something, especially something he can talk with me about.)
I found something to give me purpose when I couldn't see through term papers, middle schoolers, the pain of the holidays.
I can't explain how much it saved me.
It still does.
Every time I write verse fics or read other fics or look at fanart or RP or even watch cutscenes of the games, I get out of my head for a little bit. My therapist and I talk about it sometimes, how writing again with established characters takes some pressure off me and actually lets me write without criticism in my head, how I've created two original characters (OCs) that are the parts of me I can't handle in real life.
Actually, let's pause here and, in the words of the Good Mythical Morning boys, let's talk about that.
My first OC, a teenage girl on Mother Base who isn't quite sure where she fits, is all the emotions I've squelched (my therapist's words) my whole life. She lets me escape being an adult, even if it's just for a bit. I don't write her much anymore. I think I don't need her right now; but I know that when I do need her, she's there.
My current one is...well...she's the parts of myself I struggle with. She has my anxieties and my disorders and my insecurities, but she's also got some serious strength. When I start to feel like I'm drowning, there's a part of me that remembers that if she can survive the scenarios I've placed her in, surely I can survive mine. It doesn't take a hero to make it through; sometimes it's just being soft and kind, even if you're crying.
Knitting can only do so much, after all.
Reading patterns (with the exception of lace) doesn't help quiet the voices.
If anything, sometimes it makes them louder.
There's a reason I watch the Weather Channel while I knit.
I digress.
The best part of this discovery last year?
I met my best friend.
It's always funny to me how paths cross, those golden strands fate weaves, how nothing is by chance. Not a month after being in this fandom and writing for the first time in so long, he crossed my path. At first, it was just to talk fanfiction. But honestly, after a week, it wasn't that.
Personal life spilled into it.
I never open myself to anyone.
If you open up, it gives a chance to get hurt.
But I did with him.
I opened myself wide and I let him into my Cancer shell.
I helped him through struggles.
He helped me when I couldn't get out of my head.
He still does.
He lives several states away, so visiting in person is more than a midnight drive, but I know that if I call at 1am with a crisis, he'll answer the phone.
When my moods are out of control, he's there.
When something good happens, he's the first to know outside of my husband.
He's fantastic and I don't know how I got so fortunate to have him in my life.
He's my family.
I don't know what I would do without him in my life.
And to think, if I hadn't gotten interested in a fandom of a game I don't play, I wouldn't have met him.
Life is strange, isn't it?
I think life comes down to personal connections.
Even when I cant see straight, I still believe that.
My parents are amazing.
My sister is too.
And my husband.
God, I don't even know where to begin.
He takes better care of me than I do myself sometimes and I love him so much.
He's my rock.
He loves that I'm doing things again.
He loves that I met a great friend.
He loves that somehow, I'm finding myself again.
(Even if this month I've been completely off kilter.)
I've given him opportunities to leave.
Loving someone with mental illness can be hard.
But he's steadfast.
God blessed me with the people around me more than I can express.
School started again.
I made some connections with classmates that have carried.
I brought my GPA up, even though I still have a bit to go before it's where I want it.
I graduate in three semesters, and one of those is student teaching.
I'm terrified and it exhilarates me as much as it gives me nightmares.
I refuse to stop because of it though.
All of this is to say in a very long winded way, it is now the summer of 2016.
I am still here.
I still write for fandom.
I still paint periodically.
I've started taking walks and exploring around where I live, something I've not done before.
Sometimes I play my violin.
I've started singing in the shower again.
I went through Year and a Day, and took the mantle of Raven, the Seer.
I can read tarot like no one's business and if you need a spell, well, I have candle magic down.
And of course I still knit like a mad woman, sometimes until my hands hurt.
I am still here.
I am not leaving again.
So welcome back, old readers.
And welcome welcome, new readers.
We're caught up, so lets venture forward, shall we?
~Birdie
To those of you who still follow me, you deserve more than a gold medal.
To those of you who are new...well.
Here's your welcome letter.
Bear with me, this is an incredibly long post.
But it's important.
So once upon a time, I ran a blog called All the Stars and Boulevards. Some of you may or may not remember it. I was young (high school into early years of college) and I named it after a song by Augustana (pretty sure they aren't around anymore).
I was so very good at updating.
It was like a personal diary and I couldn't stop.
I wrote about my job.
I wrote about my life, my friends, people who made me mad, people who I loved.
But then one day I decided to drop it.
There were too many things going on.
I couldn't sort personal from what is acceptable to share.
So I walked away.
I tried a knitting blog, inspired by the Yarn Harlot.
That didn't work well.
It was too hard for me to stay on top of pictures and projects.
I gave up.
I created a book blog.
That was a school project for a Young Adult Literature class I was taking.
I was very proud of it (I still am) but try as I might, I can't get myself to go back to it.
Somewhere in the middle, this beautiful blog came about.
The quote is from Rumi, and it's always resonated with me.
The point of this blog was to do what the original blog did, but better.
And then I stopped blogging altogether.
There are periodic posts here and there on this blog, jumbled and confused and whatever else.
But I want to be back for good this time. I have so many things in my head and what better way than to skewer myself on the Internet. Maybe I should keep things private; after all, so many things have happened.
Keeping it private doesn't help anyone else though. And besides, I'm learning people online mean well overall, and if anyone wants to talk, it opens me up for that.
Alright. Up to speed so far?
Excellent.
This is where the tornado starts.
Hold on Dorothy, this isn't Kansas anymore.
So what happened to make me stop?
Maybe I explained everything in a previous post somewhere, but I have no desire to go through my archives. I might actually burn them so this can be a fresh start. So let's go with a fresh start.
My sister's fiance killed himself.
Wait, let's go back further.
I got married.
Wait, stuff came before that.
Let's go back to the beginning, actually.
2014 was the most stressful year I'd had in a really long time. I had just figured out, after an associates and a year at a four year school, what I wanted to do with my life. At first I thought I wanted to be a park ranger. But if I had paid attention to what my associates said ("creative writing"), I would have realized sooner that I'm drawn to words. English Education finally came to me, and it's a fantastic fit. So I was switching from a highly stressful education path to an equally stressful one, the key being I was (and still am) in love with it.
That was the summer of my sister's fiance as well, a man who could be charming and funny but turn on a dime. He had Type I Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and several other things going on.
Mental disorders tend to get glossed over. We're afraid to talk about them, and we're afraid to deal with them. I'm ashamed to say that I was afraid to deal with his.
What ended up happening instead was a summer of him harassing me to the point where I was afraid to go home if I saw a car that even remotely looked like his, and me not knowing how to deal with it and not knowing how to sort what was just manipulative from his environment (because there was a lot of that going on) and what was biological.
The records of text messages I kept that summer filled a file folder.
My sister still loved him.
I started seeing a therapist and psychiatrist.
My anxiety attacks went through the roof and I was put on low doses of antidepressants (which didn't make me feel better) and Xanax as needed.
The year passed.
2015 showed great promise.
I brought my GPA up a bit, planned my wedding, and just generally loved life. School ended well in the spring semester - I got to try so many things, a painting class and meeting authors and just so many wonderful things.
I got married.
It was beautiful and simple and I felt like a princess. My husband and I have been together since 2011; he's the only person I've ever been with, and I love him so much. We spent a week afterwards trying to figure out further plans. We still lived (and still do live) with my parents because the economy is so bad and we're both full time students, but it works out. It worked out.
Everything was wonderful and my life felt right.
And then everything wasn't okay.
Suicide is a very difficult thing to talk about. It's hard, it's stigmatized like so many other things, and it scares a lot of people. But that's what happened, and I'm tired of sugar coating it. I've tip toed telling people what really happened. I'm sick of pitying looks and I know everyone else is too.
My therapist once told me that when someone dies of cancer or other illness, we are sad, but we often say that they're no longer in pain.
The same should go for suicide.
It's not something we wish on anyone, and so many people react in anger to the person who left.
But we can't know how much pain that person was in, and on some level, they aren't hurting any more.
Life is so complicated sometimes.
So here it is:
My sister's fiance shot himself in the head.
We were on vacation to see my relatives who live out of state. We were sharing our wedding and our photos, how beautiful everything was. My husband and I were happy, and even though all five of us (my sister, the two of us, and my parents) were crammed in a single hotel room for a week, it was good. Every time I see my family, it's good.
He was not invited, for reasons listed way above.
We dropped my sister off at her apartment, my dad walking her up to the door.
They found the body.
They found an extra bullet waiting for her on the night stand table.
She later told us that if my dad hadn't been there, she would have used it.
We still cry when we think about it.
I still remember hearing her scream and knowing exactly what had happened before anyone could tell me as I sat in the van.
I still remember thinking I had to go to the bathroom but would rather wait than ask to use theirs.
I would have seen the body as well if I hadn't waited.
I still remember that he was only a month older than me.
So then of course there is so much to deal with.
My sister's pain.
His family and how in their hurt, they handled my sister so poorly.
How all of us felt some piece of guilt.
How when I threw that file of text messages away, I wondered (and still do) if I could have somehow made thing different.
I used to have nightmares where I could hear her scream still.
I would close my eyes, see her face and hear her sobs as I held her with my mom and husband.
I tried to change the tracks.
I tried to not take Xanax daily.
I tried to avoid it until I couldn't any longer.
I couldn't imagine how hard it hurt her.
I still can't.
Somehow we made it through the summer.
School started again in the fall.
I was diagnosed with Type II Bipolar Disorder on the first day of school.
I would have been diagnosed sooner if I hadn't spent a year lying to everyone because I was afraid of turning out like him.
It wasn't the end of the world even though I thought it was on that August day as I cried on the train.
The world still hasn't ended.
If anything, it's gotten better for me.
I'm back to rapid cycling, but it's no longer daily.
I cycle about weekly now.
And I have an appointment to tweak that this week.
There is always hope.
But before that, I couldn't see it.
And then, my husband got me interested in something. There is a game series called Metal Gear Solid. Perhaps you are familiar with it. I don't play video games, but he's played it from the first game all the way through the Phantom Pain, the last installment. I watched a few of the missions, and I was blown away by the care put into these characters.
I researched.
For the first time since I graduated community college, I started to write.
I wrote a character. I wrote in the world of the established characters with the support and encouragement of my husband.
(He loves that I'm part of something, especially something he can talk with me about.)
I found something to give me purpose when I couldn't see through term papers, middle schoolers, the pain of the holidays.
I can't explain how much it saved me.
It still does.
Every time I write verse fics or read other fics or look at fanart or RP or even watch cutscenes of the games, I get out of my head for a little bit. My therapist and I talk about it sometimes, how writing again with established characters takes some pressure off me and actually lets me write without criticism in my head, how I've created two original characters (OCs) that are the parts of me I can't handle in real life.
Actually, let's pause here and, in the words of the Good Mythical Morning boys, let's talk about that.
My first OC, a teenage girl on Mother Base who isn't quite sure where she fits, is all the emotions I've squelched (my therapist's words) my whole life. She lets me escape being an adult, even if it's just for a bit. I don't write her much anymore. I think I don't need her right now; but I know that when I do need her, she's there.
My current one is...well...she's the parts of myself I struggle with. She has my anxieties and my disorders and my insecurities, but she's also got some serious strength. When I start to feel like I'm drowning, there's a part of me that remembers that if she can survive the scenarios I've placed her in, surely I can survive mine. It doesn't take a hero to make it through; sometimes it's just being soft and kind, even if you're crying.
Knitting can only do so much, after all.
Reading patterns (with the exception of lace) doesn't help quiet the voices.
If anything, sometimes it makes them louder.
There's a reason I watch the Weather Channel while I knit.
I digress.
The best part of this discovery last year?
I met my best friend.
It's always funny to me how paths cross, those golden strands fate weaves, how nothing is by chance. Not a month after being in this fandom and writing for the first time in so long, he crossed my path. At first, it was just to talk fanfiction. But honestly, after a week, it wasn't that.
Personal life spilled into it.
I never open myself to anyone.
If you open up, it gives a chance to get hurt.
But I did with him.
I opened myself wide and I let him into my Cancer shell.
I helped him through struggles.
He helped me when I couldn't get out of my head.
He still does.
He lives several states away, so visiting in person is more than a midnight drive, but I know that if I call at 1am with a crisis, he'll answer the phone.
When my moods are out of control, he's there.
When something good happens, he's the first to know outside of my husband.
He's fantastic and I don't know how I got so fortunate to have him in my life.
He's my family.
I don't know what I would do without him in my life.
And to think, if I hadn't gotten interested in a fandom of a game I don't play, I wouldn't have met him.
Life is strange, isn't it?
I think life comes down to personal connections.
Even when I cant see straight, I still believe that.
My parents are amazing.
My sister is too.
And my husband.
God, I don't even know where to begin.
He takes better care of me than I do myself sometimes and I love him so much.
He's my rock.
He loves that I'm doing things again.
He loves that I met a great friend.
He loves that somehow, I'm finding myself again.
(Even if this month I've been completely off kilter.)
I've given him opportunities to leave.
Loving someone with mental illness can be hard.
But he's steadfast.
God blessed me with the people around me more than I can express.
School started again.
I made some connections with classmates that have carried.
I brought my GPA up, even though I still have a bit to go before it's where I want it.
I graduate in three semesters, and one of those is student teaching.
I'm terrified and it exhilarates me as much as it gives me nightmares.
I refuse to stop because of it though.
All of this is to say in a very long winded way, it is now the summer of 2016.
I am still here.
I still write for fandom.
I still paint periodically.
I've started taking walks and exploring around where I live, something I've not done before.
Sometimes I play my violin.
I've started singing in the shower again.
I went through Year and a Day, and took the mantle of Raven, the Seer.
I can read tarot like no one's business and if you need a spell, well, I have candle magic down.
And of course I still knit like a mad woman, sometimes until my hands hurt.
I am still here.
I am not leaving again.
So welcome back, old readers.
And welcome welcome, new readers.
We're caught up, so lets venture forward, shall we?
~Birdie
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