Lion and Magic Boy

I started this blog 6 years ago, having heard something about “weblogs” and feeling the need to jump on that wagon. I posted perhaps twice, already losing impetus to sustain the original intention of the blog which was to record for posterity the stories I told nightly to my children. Although the intention was good, the stories ended soon after and I lacked time/inclination to use this new weblog-thingy for navel-gazing, since introspection was the last thing I could bear in my then-state of denial.

NOTE: While I don’t deny that I could also be in some state of denial about one thing or another at present as well, the denial I was embracing at that long-ago time is something since uncovered that has led to much inward gazing, so I reserve the right to judge myself, at least a little, about having been in that state once.

Fast-forward a few years, to a time when my creativity and emotions were brimming and wanted an outlet. This became it. Into these pages I poured my life: all the messiness and uncertainty, all my hopes and idealism, all my love and my pain.

I’ve been aware, over the past two years here, of a good many of you who read my journey. I think of you as friends, more than friends really, because you’ve dived into my depths with me at times, or ridden my heights. I know too that some of you read because you are looking for something, something to report to someone else or simply something to report, something to use, perhaps, to hurt. I’ve been aware of this. It’s had an effect on me. I’ve spent less energy here of late because I’m less comfortable letting my passions and pain ooze onto a page where it’s not simply embraced for being yet another part of me, another facet to the unending complexity that is me.

And if I no longer find joy in unearthing all the beauty (even the beauty that others find ugly, or twist somehow into ugliness) that is me here in this venue, it’s time to stop.

This is my last post here.

Thank you, ALL OF YOU, for being here and sharing these bits of my life. I shall miss you.

Love,

Me.

Eric has Scarlet Fever.

He wasn’t quite himself over the weekend, choosing to nap some and whine a lot. Wasn’t particularly hungry either though he asked for snacks constantly. No fever. I’ve seen sicker. Though he was sporting a nice red rash all over. If this is Scarlet Fever then no biggie. The Ex took him to the doctor today and he was duly swabbed and dosed for strep, and strep + rash = Scarlet Fever.

My throat hurts just writing this.

However! You know I’ve been writing over at Workitmom for awhile, and the whole experience got a lot more fun a few weeks ago when Karen Rani of Karen Sugarpants joined and made us all in awe of her marathon training. I kid you not! I have such a crush now. Though I admit I had to get over the whole “Karen R. and Karen M.” thing. I thought I left that behind in like 4th grade, where there were FOUR Karens in my class and I swore I would rename myself to something better REALLY SOON.

(I am still open to suggestions. Please add yours.)

But hey! Workitmom is celebrating the big Oh-One and there are contests! And prizes! (More appropriately referred to as the Birthday Bash Giveaway!) And did I mention PRIZES??! I’m thrilled to be a part of this great community resource for working women. Really! Go see!

Also: (bad segue? You be the judge) Ass Cork Cat, now known as Blood-Dripping Peeing Apparent Razor Blades In Inappropriate Places Cat, is also on antibiotics. Guess how much fun it is to dose a cat with that?

My life has reached a crisis state. I’ve been trying to hide it but there’s no use any more; things have simply escalated to a point I can no longer deal with. Even if that means ending a sentence with a preposition.

I need a new blogentity.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when I looked at one of my stupid Pages over there in the sidebar and said, “Fuck! Who was that bitter angry woman who wrote all that shit anyway?” and I stomped around angry for an entire day wondering who it was that broke into my blog and wrote all that stuff. Then I realized that person had been me, and I was no longer that person.

Fine. Change the stupid Pages then.

Right. Not. Because my stupid fucking blog is BROKEN and I can’t FIX IT. Yes, I have Googled “wordpress can’t edit pages delete posts” and I’ve come up with some threads where people tentatively say stuff like “you have to query your wp_options table”, a phrase which causes my brain to instantly snap shut as it requires digging into my database, and I don’t think my blog and I know each other well enough yet for that kind of unalterable intimacy.

I have upgraded to WP 2.5 and that did no good. Right now the message (in red, no less) “YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO DO THAT” is staring at me unblinkingly, taunting me. I never even asked WP 2.5 for anything! We only just met! And already it is telling me NONONO to questions I have not yet asked.

Also I want a new theme. Fine. Because I found my blog twin, and I am still stumbling about stuttering a little at seeing my very unique (but free! downloadable by anyone!) theme I never bothered to customize in use by someone else. Someone else quite like me in many ways, which is totally cool. But still. A little weird.

So I’m getting out. Making changes. This is no longer the ALL of me I want to present.

But the stupid fucking Pages. Will follow me.

So I need help.

Help? Anyone?

You might have noticed there’ve been some changes around here. Yes! Dropdown sidebar thingies! (Which, I might add, I’m still not used to because I still find myself scrolling way way down like I used to whenever I want to read one of my favorite writers or something, and why hello, yes, I could be using my Bloglines or Google Reader but for some reason I insist on doing some things Old School, because, you know, I like to waste time and all. Take yesterday, when the Craigslist guy showed up to take my 1997 Cuisinart off my hands, the Cuisinart I bought because It Would Change My Life, the one I hardly used except about once a year to make hummous or something because the damn thing weighs about 90 pounds and takes up valuable countertop real estate that I was not willing to give up, and besides I do have KNIVES for that sort of thing, but this guy said he was a cucina, which translates to “kitchen”, and although he was on the larger side I certainly wouldn’t think of referring to him as a whole entire room or anything, but hey, that’s his call if he wants to say “I’m a kitchen!” or something, you know? Far be it from me to take that little joy from his life, you know? Anyway, he says that you can chop the celery in the Cuisinart and then the carrots, and then the onions, all without cleaning it in between! And then when you put-a the meat-a in it for the spicy meatball-a, you only have to clean it one time! Save-a you time! And then I was sort of regretting selling the thing in pristine almost-unused condition to a Craigslist guy for a mere pittance when I could be saving time by making meatballs, but you know there he was in my livingroom and I had to let it go.)

[Points for Longest Parenthetical Comment]

[Oh! Before I completely leave the subject of upgrading blogs etc., you should read this well-written post about Wordpress 2.5. Me, I am afraid to upgrade because I just know Nameless Important Stuff would disappear forever, so I'll be here in my dinky wp 2.1 forever, thank you.]

So, yeah, changes! I’m changing alll the time, believe me.

But adding dropdowns to my blogroll is only the surface of the changes. The real changes go deeper. We’re talking Blog Identity here.

You know what I’m talking about. Say you start a blog in 2002 because you heard on NPR that “weblogs” are the cool new next thing. So you start a blog, you write a couple of posts, and then you forget about it. (I’m not saying that happened to ME, by the way; we’re speaking hypothetically here of course.)

So fast-forward a few years. You keep hearing about this “blog” thing. You’re looking for, you know, a creative outlet. So you start writing about shit. You start reading other people’s blogs (because you haven’t an original idea of your own), and HOLYSHIT people make money from these things???! Well, count me in, sir! I want me a piece of that!

Um…how do I get it?

And more importantly, WHO AM I?

So I looked, as we all do, for identity. My kid has Down syndrome? Great! Hook me up with the whole Down syndrome blogging community!

Yeah. And, as good as that is/was, it’s not really me. My kid still has Down syndrome, that’s not going away any time soon (hey! yesterday he was stacking nesting cups instead of throwing them! first time!), but I’m no longer the parent-of-a-kid-with-down-syndrome. I mean, I AM, but it’s not my identity. It’s his identity. (Actually, it isn’t even that. He’s just Eric, as far as he knows. He doesn’t need an identity because he already knows who he is!) And it’s not my blog’s identity.

So some people’s blogroll is kind of like high school. The cool kid’s table. And some people invite everybody to the table, because either they’re just friendly like that or maybe having more people at the table makes them look more popular, I dunno. Some people invite just their friends. I could write a whole book on the Psychology of Blogrolls.

But mine had blogs on it that I don’t read anymore for one reason or another (hey! sometimes we just don’t click with everyone, you know?), but I felt I should keep them because of the Dwn syndrome thing. Would not keeping them, once I had linked to them, signal a subtle dis on Down symdrome? Was I obligated to maintain these links forever?

Well, no. This isn’t a Down syndrome blog, though 1/4 of my kids has DS. I’ll still write about it from time to time as part of what’s going on in his life/my life, but it was never a focus here. So my favorite writers who also happen to have kids with Down syndrome are just that: my favorite writers. We’re going all-inclusive here with the blogroll. Writing is writing.

And the focus of this blog? Well, it’s me. Me me me me me me me!

So, hi. I’m Karen. I’m a channel, which is sort of like a psychic only much much better. I’m a writer. I’m an artist. I’m a mother. I’m also a cyclist, a lover, and a person who wears herself on the outside these days. I cry sometimes, I get angry sometimes, I think about things a LOT. I don’t use my real name, but it’s close enough.

Hi.

Why, hello! I am reminded I have a blog. So hello, blog! Nice to see you again. Have I been avoiding you? No not at all why yes, actually. But it’s not you, it’s me. I mean it baby! You have many fine qualities. I am sure you will find another blogger soon. Very soon. One with motivation. One who loves you enough to post every day, just like in the old days. One who updates your links and looks at your stats. One who loves you enough to tell you when you’re getting fat and then updates your theme.

…What? Well, yeah, maybe I can still be your blogger. I mean, we do have a history, don’t we? Two years of posting regularly, and four years before that of holding onto a blog name with a couple of really old and lame posts. Something about a trip to a dentist. I mean, what was that?? We’ve come a long way together, you and me. I can’t exactly forget all we have been to one another now, can I?

So okay. I’ll give us another shot.

Yeah. Well.

See, early last week I was told Strollerderby no longer had need of my services. They were going in another direction, and it didn’t include me (what? bitter? me? noooo…)  So, having spent approximately 3,209,577 hours in the past year trolling the internets for stories for Strollerderby, thinking about stories to write for Strollerderby and my angle on them, writing said stories for Strollerderby, queueing them up (for Strollerderby) checking stats later and counting posts, plus the all-important back-chat with my fellow Strollerderby bloggers, I sorta associate my laptop and indeed ALL computers with Strollerderby now. And nobody likes getting fired. It sorta hurts. So I have been discovering a world outside those 3,209,577 hours: hey! there are other things you can do with the internets! Like…buy things! (oh. sorry. nope, can’t do THAT without a JOB). And…look stuff up! Interesting stuff! (If you know of any let me know) And….oh look, I am making a new website! (coming soon)

So yeah. Associating writing with Strollerderby with the burning pain of being fired (better check out those burning-type pains, just in case…antibiotics maybe?), I have not exactly wanted to write much lately. It’s MUCH easier to simply ignore said pains and pretend they aren’t there.

So here is what else I am doing:

• Getting ready to give a metaphysical workshop in Tucson AZ in 2 weeks. Wanna go?
• Getting rid of lots of STUFF. It is time, for a variety of reasons. I am starting with Waldorf-craft and knitting books, since there is little likelihood I will be needing them any time soon.
• Lots of channeling. My work is taking me in new directions, a life of its own, blah blah blah. Sometimes you just have to go where life takes you.

And this is what I am NOT doing:

• Cooking. Why do people need to eat every day anyway? Several times a day, even? What’s up with that?
• Eating. See above. Seriously, what’s the point?
• Cleaning. See above. You just have to do it again the next time. I mean, what’s UP with that? The short people here can do some of it anyway.

So anyway, that’s me. What have YOU been up to? Spill it! I want to know!

So the other night, while inwardly writhing with the sort of pain that only the result of Nathaniel or maybe Serena or no, it was probably Eric, having earlier stepped on a crack might bring, I had the pleasure of meeting in real life some people who previously only knew me online.

Including through this blog.

So, was it slightly weird knowing that the people driving the car I was in and therefore were responsible for my well-being and hello! you never know could just randomly drive into a concrete abutment! knew all about, say, the Ass Cork Incidents? Why, yes! About as weird as knowing my mother reads this daily. DAILY, mind you, as long as it is a MondayTuesdayWednesdayThursdayFriday sort of daily, holidays not included. As if I’m not too important to post on holidays!

But lovely people, lovely. No, I mean it!  And I don’t mean “lovely people” like OMG what did I get myself into here??!  And can I escape??!  No, I mean “lovely people” like, wow, so much better in real life!  With hugs and everything! Who I hope to see again (but may have totally screwed that up due to blogging about them).

So here’s a question: is this like the matryoshka dolls? I mean, is there a world-within-a-world-within-a-world here? See, people read my blog. Which is a sort of a world (bear with me here; it is if I say it is, right?). And if I meet them in the outer world, the inner world meets the outer world, which means I can then blog about that outer world back in the inner world.

(I think I took a wrong turn there somewhere, but I REFUSE TO MAKE A U-TURN!)

Lovely people. Did I mention that? (Hi!)

Update on the back thing: after a second trip to the chiropractor, during which she kept muttering things like “cockeyed!” and “wow!”, and a hot bath and some massage and some other massage and some yoga, I can now think more seriously about touching my toes without causing inner convulsions and having to contort my body sideways (”cockeyed!”) in order to, say, put on pants. Or socks. So I have officially moved backward in time from being some 90-odd years old to maybe my 60’s, on a good day, provided I kept myself up all these years. Which I highly recommend, and I plan to get on it soon.

P.S. It is Serena’s birthday today. Yay for 8! However it is a huge indiscretion to attempt to phone her at any time (THE INTERRUPTION! HOW DARE YOU! WHEN I HAVE IMPORTANT TV TO WATCH!), so I will see her tomorrow and there will be cake and a candle that proclaims “8!” and some presents, and then the long long wait a whole nother year for the next one.

So, obviously, a few changes around here. What do you think? Yay or nay? Still tweaking, but this has possibilities…

And am I ever relieved to be saying that. What’s the big deal about posting every day for a month? Hell if I know. Last year it didn’t seem to be a huge problem, and I wrote a novel that month, too. Of course, I wasn’t writing 2000 words a day for real actual dollars this time last year, either. And I said I was going to repeat the heroic novel-writing effort this year as well but I got about 4500 words down, stumbled, fell, and choked. So that project will have to wait, unfortunately. Got too many other irons in the fire just now.

Anyway, looking for something entertaining? A lot of people liked this. And this. What, not a cat person? How about this, then.

Aaaaand, I’m done. With November. Yay!

So I didn’t post ahead last night for today, so what.

Maybe I was, you know, busy.

Maybe I was working on stuff for one of my new jobs, which is LIVE today and I can finally announce! Parentricity is a social network for parents, and here’s an official description:

“Parentricity aims to become the largest, most highly regarded destination for moms and dads that uses social networking as a guide to raising young children. Parentricity will empower parents with the collective experience, knowledge and expertise of a national network of peers and professionals in an environment that fosters community and friendship. Built with the best of Web 2.0 features and functionality, Parentricity will be a one-stop resource center for parents.”

So, you like? Go over and have a look. And then join: this promises to be big! And I’ll be writing over there about three times a week. Here’s my first contribution.

And! Not to be outdone, because hey, this stuff is really powerful (go read it and see for yourself), there’s a new post up at Loving Awareness about surrendering to The Void. You know you’re curious; go on.

Posts. The good posts. There will likely be some this month. But I make no guarantees.

However, if you’ve forgotten, I am awesome.

Wait, let me repeat that with enthusiasm. I am awesome! I am!

(see what a little punctuation does?)

But that brings a little something up. The rationing of the good stuff. I have a history of that. In childhood I was totally okay with waiting for Christmas. I knew where the presents were stashed (hi Mom, you think I never looked in your closet?), but the anticipation was too delicious to forego by peeking. Besides, I did that one year and felt awful about it. And the present sucked.

Except, sadly, often the anticipation was greater than the actual gifts themselves (but not YOURS, Mom!). Which means now, hello, you’re going to be all disappointed when you actually come across a “good” post. Shit. How will you know it’s a “good” one? Should I tag them somehow? A gold star? Shit. This is getting complicated.

I think I need to consult the blogging hotline.

Shit.

So I convinced Nathaniel to sign up for NaNoWriMo too. The Young Adult version, since he’s still under 12 (though almost as tall as me dammit). He started writing yesterday and has a respectable 600 words logged in already (we chose a do-able total figure in line with his likely output, which you’re allowed to do if you claim to be under 12, which I may have to do if I don’t get to writing soon). I don’t think I’m allowed to read his novel, though. So I’d better keep pretending I haven’t.