Trying to Keep Up

I haven’t lost complete track of Richard Armitage but darn near. As some of you know, I started a business, and it’s taken almost everything out of me. It is working, but it’s like being pregnant, giving birth and then dealing with an infant. All things that take the stuffing out of someone in her childbearing years let alone someone like me who is long past that. Yep, that’s my concession that I’m not a spring chick.

The rest of my story is that I have one child I’m still homeschooling, take care of two houses (one’s mine, the other one’s a church house), and I got something dropped in my lap a few months ago which has me driving 1,500 miles a month. Unreal. I don’t even know how I’m doing all of this, but the good news is that it’s paying all of those horrendous medical bills. I do not want to go into my old age owing six figures, and thankfully, I won’t!

And thank God! my youngest child, who is in high school, is independent or there would be real trouble. She directs her days more or less. I oversee the subject matter she studies and do lecture on some subjects, but other than that, the child tells me what’s happening. Most of that is her reading constantly — about four books a week and titles such as To Kill a Mockingbird or Ethan Frome or A Member of the Wedding, and some popular fiction thrown in like Looking for Alaska, which she hated. She said, “I don’t get why everyone [read that as her peers] thinks John Green’s writing is so great. This is my third book by him, and the first two I kept thinking that maybe the next book would wow me. That hasn’t happened. Honestly, Mom, To Kill a Mockingbird is soooooo much better than anything John Green has written it’s not funny.” I replied, “You know what’s happened don’t you?” She looked at me, and I continued, “You’ve been spoiled by good writing.” From there we went onto a very productive discussion of what we both like to see in writing.

So where am I going with this? Lately, discussing writing has stirred up such a longing to write again. Not that the desire ever went away, but it’s more intense these days because time’s winged chariot is kicking my ass, and I want to say something before I’m completely crushed. When I feel this way, I become wistful about this place, because writing this blog freed me up to write other things which I needed to get out or self combust. And I still have so much I want to say. Not sure how I’m going to pull it off, but I need to finish something here.

Other than that, picture me something like this (below) as I go about my day. I’m almost constantly with people. I love people, think they’re fascinating, and I never want to be completely cut off from them. Yeah, you can feel that “but” coming. I’ve got to get in a dark room and coalesce my thoughts instead of forever reacting to others — or feeling like I am.

SunkenTreasure-6-8Nov15

Candid photo snagged from RichardArmitageNet.com

What, Which, Why, and How Long?

blog-intro-challenge

I’ve been debating with myself about doing this challenge. The only thing keeping me from it is wondering if I can say anything fresh. I don’t think I’ve said anything fresh on this blog for probably two years, so it’s hard to think I’ll do it now. But maybe I’ll talk myself into taking a crack at it. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to reading others’ thoughts about it. And thank you Guylty for something to ponder.

Loose Ends

There are so many stops and starts on this site. I would apologize, but well, this is something I do in my spare time. ROFLOL!! SO is looking at me from across the room and obviously wondering what I find so funny. He doesn’t realize I burst out laughing at the notion of spare time. I don’t think I’ve had any spare time since about 1986. Yet somehow I’ve managed to make the time for this place, and it’s never enough. But I press on.

The first thing that has been bugging me for most of the duration of this blog is all the streams of thoughts I’ve started but then something came along to divert me, and I ended up somewhere else. No, I’m not going to come with posts on all of the seemingly dead end thoughts I’ve had. I’ll spare you that. And sometimes I was only musing aloud, and the subject matter is not important any longer. But there are some thoughts I need to let flow a little more in order to feel I’ve done what I set out to do when I started this place. One is obviously my diary. Another one is maybe my experience at Comic-Con 2012. I’m still pondering that one because if I really tell what happened, I’ll probably burn a bridge, and I hate doing that. But we’ll see. There are also interviews I have that need to be published, because I believe you will enjoy learning about those people as much as I did. And then there are other thoughts such as my take on Heinz Kruger (I never did say what I really thought of him, and as time has gone on, I find the need to talk about him has increased.), or my many thoughts on objectification (no snark; okay, maybe a little) and I have no idea how many other thoughts I started to pursue.

The second thing I want to address is the fact I have a couple of big boxes full of Richard Armitage memorabilia or paraphernalia (depending on how you look at it *snort*), and I have never intended to keep all of it. Some of it was given to me to give away, and for that I am immensely grateful. The rest of it I purchased with the plan to give most of it away. Some of these items I have already given away. Somein “giveaways” and some when I felt like it. Please note none of the items in those two boxes are keepsakes sent to me by fellow fans. Those items I consider precious and will keep because they represent friendships.

But I find it strange I have those two boxes. Collecting is not usually my thing. Oh, I can be a pack rat with things like paperwork ’cause I might need it later. But collecting items for the sake of just having them has always seemed like too much work. Yeah, I’m lazy. Sue me. Of course if you looked around my house, you would think I collected books. I do love reading. SO does as well, and we encouraged it in our children. Consequently, we have bookshelves in every room of the house. Some rooms have several shelves, and there is an entire room with nothing but floor to ceiling shelves crammed with books. But the only reason those were collected is because they have had some usefulness and not for the sake of just possessing them. (And now with Kindle, I don’t have to devote so much space in my house to them; don’t ask about my Kindle collection. Oy).

None of this is to say I’m knocking the idea of being a collector. I have friends who are collectors of various and sundry items, and I’ve enjoyed their collections by enjoying what they have collected, by enjoying how they bask in their treasures, or by being fascinated at their efforts. But then I can go home, and I don’t have to dust anything or worry that those collected items will be damaged or stolen or misplaced. Yet I find myself with those two large boxes full of stuff about Richard or tangentially related to him, and sometimes I ask myself, “How did I end up with all of this?” The answer is always immediate. Oh yeah, I am having fun, and some others are having fun along with me.

As much as fun seems to have morphed into a four-letter word for some in the fandom, that is essentially the reason I’m here. It may sound shallow, but then define fun. Yep, maybe it’s not what you think I’m thinking. Oh sure I like to snark, but if that’s all I ever did, your eyes would glaze over,and maybe they have at times. Mine have. But then I regroup and come back to the blogging adventure where I can usually find something interesting and enlightening, and sometimes it makes it into a blog piece, but most times it doesn’t. Damn time constraints!

But I wouldn’t change a thing. The meandering around and trying things and having flops or hitting walls, and then stepping back and rethinking something and seeing it differently and all the time writing, writing, writing (whether any of you ever see it or not), has been one of the best things I’ve done in my life. I cannot recommend it enough. To those of you who wonder if you should blog, let me say that again. I cannot recommend it enough. It is manna for the brain whether this place looks like a pile of fluff. It’s feeding something in my mind by facilitating writing and research and ideas and ideas and ideas and did I mention fun? well, I’m saying it again ’cause the fount will not stop. Thank you, Richard Armitage! And more important, thank God. I’m serious as a heart attack. I do thank God and for Richard Armitage as well. :)

And all of that brings me back to thoughts of the itinerant kind, I’ve let Ken Stott languish by himself long enough. I need to come with the blog pieces on his er, compatriots.

Okay, a picture, and honestly, the only reason I’m putting this here is so I have something that will post to Pinterest other than that picture in my banner. As much as I like it, the picture doesn’t begin to hint at what this piece is about. Or maybe it does?

I think I just talked myself out of a picture for this piece.

I Really Did Have a Richard Armitage Dream

And now for something weird.

The other night I slept 16 hours when normally I sleep six at most. This may account for Richard showing up in my dreams for the first time.

I was sitting in the back of a large, black SUV and a man was sitting beside me. We were both dressed in black slacks and black turtle neck sweaters and talking about some project we were working on. No specifics on that; just that we were making preparations to continue with it. A few moments later someone walked up to my side of the vehicle, and I partially rolled down the window to see who it was. It was Richard Armitage, and he was also dressed all in black with some sort of black cap on his head. He peered into the window and said very slowly, “There you are.” Then he pulled a black ski mask over his face and just stared at me through the eye slits for an inordinately long time. Eventually I looked straight ahead and said, “You’re unnerving me.”

Then it was onto the next dream where I was a prisoner in a concentration camp and there was lice all around. I woke up with an itchy scalp.

Let the psychoanalysis begin. :D

Who Are You?

October 7, 2012

I was sitting here thinking I’m not quite sure where to put this post. Sometimes it seems this place is so full of snark that I’ve boxed myself into something and can’t get out of it. But that’s a lie. I’m not in a box and never have been. I’ve just believed at times I was. And I love snark. I love teasing. It’s stock and trade at my house, and I’m the least of the teasers there. But I can hold my own, and I’m glad. It’s made life so much more fun. Being able to laugh is a God send.

And if I had not been able to laugh for the last several years, I think I would have gone mad. Life can be rough and never turns out like we expect. I don’t know one person, not one, whose life has gone the way they planned. That sounds like a downer, but really, it’s not always a bad thing although it’s often an unnerving thing, and I’ve been unnerved plenty. Thankfully, I got early training in the unexpected, in being blindsided by what life can throw at us. Some of what I’ve been learning to write about has to do with all of the unexpected events that occurred to me as I was growing up. Trying to make sense of them and how they affected me.

One thing I’ve realized is how weird my childhood was by comparison to most others’. When I tell anyone even a little of what it was like, I can see their shock and sometimes pity at what they believe I endured, but I never really think of it that way. It’s taken me a long time to believe I endured anything, and I have never pitied myself and don’t relish anyone else’s pity. I just know I am what some people think of as damaged goods. But really we’re all damaged goods. My damage just seems more dramatic to some, and in a way, it’s a gift because it’s freed me. I’m not confined by nearly as much conventional wisdom as most people. My upbringing cut me loose almost from the beginning. The only real obstacle I had was in not realizing it. It used to really bother me that I wasn’t conventional and didn’t fit anywhere or with any group. I didn’t realize what a gift that is. To not fit in with a particular group leaves you free to fit in anywhere. But first you have to learn to live with being considered a weirdo. You have to embrace it. You have to embrace that gift. So anyone reading this who feels like you’re just out of step with the world, be glad. The world is often full of absurdity. You want to be in step with that?

And what brought this on? A video among other things. LOL! I can so relate to this:

What a little gem.

Should I bother with the proverbial Richard Armitage tie in or leave him alone for the evening? I think I’ll leave him be.