http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:Althaeasoap&section=today deviantART RSS for by:Althaeasoap en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Sat, 19 Dec 2009 10:38:19 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/17520986/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/17520986/ Wed, 26 Mar 2008 06:28:02 PDT
~~Hunter S. Thompson

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/17330922/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/17330922/ Fri, 14 Mar 2008 12:58:05 PDT
I don't get all morose and "life isn't worth living, it's all hopeless, it's all pointless" when I"m depressed. It's a brain chemical thing, and my symptoms are mostly physical. No energy. Lots of body pain, weakness, no stamina. IF there are any bugs going around, I'll catch them when I'm depressed because my defenses are down. I don't want to talk to people. The very idea of calling someone on the phone, or having people over for dinner, or writing a blog update or whatever, just overwhelms me and I feel like I need a nap.

If I have made new friends in a given year, my regularly-scheduled depressions serve as the litmus test for whether or not they are going to work out. The friends who can get through me holing up and not talking for weeks at a time and don't resent me for it, those are the ones who are going to last long-term. As you can imagine, that's the minority of people. It used to make me really sad. But I am who I am, and this is the only brain I've got and I'm stuck with it. I've learned to accept it and make the best of it.

The only real exception to the above is my mother-in-law.

MrX and I have been together for almost 15 years now. And I get these bouts twice a year, like clockwork in the late winter and late summer. And every single time, when I have to inform my mother-in-law why I'm not returning her emails promptly, she still doesn't "get it". "Oh dear, what are you depressed about?"

She can only understand situational depression, I guess. I rarely have a reason. And I'm not feeling *sad*. I'm just brain chemical fucked up, is all. I need to take my Wellbutrin for a few weeks, set myself a date on the calendar for doing the Bootstrap thing, and give those close to me a heads-up so they don't think it's something actually wrong.

I should probably just find a good informational website on depression, print off the FAQ and make copies. Then when this hits and I have to re-explain it to her, I can just give her another copy of the FAQ.

Anyway, I'm out of it now. Feeling good, if anything I am a little on the upswing into hyper.

I don't see myself ever being super-active here in DA land. For one thing, I just have too many things I'm juggling and eventually I get tired and pare down, at least temporarily. For another, I don't really consider myself an "artist" so much as an "artisan". So I kind of feel a little poseur-ish here, you know?

Anyway. I'm going to put up a few new Soap Pr0n pictures and such, although they aren't great because it was a gray, rainy day when I took them. Hopefully as the weather brightens, I can picture some new stuff I have.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15520854/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15520854/ Thu, 15 Nov 2007 13:28:16 PST
Smear peanut butter on the sofa and curtains. Place a fish stick behind the couch and leave it there all summer.

Toy Test:

Obtain a 55-gallon box of Legos. (If Legos are not available, you maysubstitute roofing tacks) Have a friend spread them all over the house. Put on a blindfold. Try to walk to the bathroom or kitchen. Do not scream. (This could wake a child at night.)

Grocery Store Test:

Borrow one or two small animals (goats are best) and take them with you as you shop at the grocery store. Always keep them in sight and pay for anything they eat or damage.

Dressing Test:

Obtain one large, unhappy, live octopus. Stuff into a small net bag, making sure that all arms stay inside.

Feeding Test:

Obtain a large plastic milk jug. Fill halfway with water. Suspend from the ceiling with a stout cord. Start the jug swinging. Try to insert spoonfuls of soggy cereal (such as Fruit Loops or Cheerios) into the mouth of the jug, while pretending to be an airplane. Now dump the contents of the jug on the floor.

Night Test:

Prepare by obtaining a small cloth bag and fill it with 8 - 12 pounds of sand. Soak it thoroughly in water. At 8:00 PM, begin to waltz and hum with the bag until 9:00 PM. Lay down your bag and set your alarm for 10: 00PM.Get up, pick up your bag, and sing every song you have ever heard. Make up about a dozen more and sing these too until 4:00 AM. Set alarm for 5:00 AM. Get up and make breakfast. Keep this up for 5 years. Look cheerful.

Physical Test (Women):

Obtain a large beanbag chair and attach it to the front of your clothes. Leave it there for 9 months. Now remove 10 of the beans.

Physical Test (Men):

Go to the nearest drug store. Set your wallet on the counter. Ask the clerk to help himself. Now proceed to the nearest food store. Go to the head office and arrange for your paycheck to be directly deposited to the store. Purchase a newspaper. Go home and read it quietly for the last time.

Final Assignment:

Find a couple who already has a small child. Lecture them on how they can improve their discipline, patience, tolerance, toilet training, and child’s table manners. Suggest many ways they can improve. Emphasize to them that they should never allow their children to run riot. Enjoy this experience. It will be the last time you will have all the answers. ”

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15475683/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15475683/ Mon, 12 Nov 2007 08:35:00 PST
One thing I learned from working at Job Corps is that you can't count anyone out. Some of our worst, most hopeless students, the ones who had severe drug addictions and terrible emotional issues from years of abuse at the hands of dysfunctional families, would drop out of Job Corps only to eventually straighten themselves out and become quite successful. Some of our best "star pupils" would leave and immediately go back to their families, only to get dragged down into the very same garbage we were trying to get them out of.

DeShawn was a troublemaker. So many times, he was on the verge of being kicked out of the program. A smart kid, he was hyper, outspoken and had a very short attention span. If he wasn't skipping Academic classes he was sneaking out of his dorm at night. He had no ability to resist his impulses, it seemed, but he really wanted to be ok. We had high hopes for him. I had made several behavioral contracts with him while he was there, and I was able to prevent him from being kicked out on four occasions. He always honored my behavioral contracts to the letter. He never disobeyed me, for whatever reason. He called me "Momma T", and I let him. I was one of his references when he graduated the program and went off to work on the oil rigs in Gulfport. I've known many of the rig captains for years and I was frank with them about his ways, because they could handle it. He was fine for a few months, but then he didn't show up for an offshore run. Three days later he was found in the trunk of an abandoned car with a bullet in his head. He was 19 years old. He welded the tape dispenser out of recycled parts and gave it to me when he left. That thing has torn more skin off of my hands and arms than all the knives I have ever owned. But it's heavy and it stays put, and I can get a piece of packing tape with one hand while the other is busy holding a box together. It's been incredibly useful to me since I've been in business for myself.

Also missing are my glasses. I don't absolutely need them, they just make reading a bit easier. At the Leaf festival, I dropped them in the dark the first night. They got stepped on, but they got turned in and I got them back. I dropped them again the next day, still at the festival, and this time I stepped on them myself. Managed to wrangle them into shape and they were still usable, though. But now I can't find them at all. They're probably hiding from me in sheer terror.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15087880/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/15087880/ Tue, 16 Oct 2007 13:33:03 PDT
So...here is how I "suffer" through the "tragedy" of having a daughter who is queer.

I'm seriously having one of those weeks where I just want to pack up my kids and leave this place. I have one child who is queer, the other is straight. Nothing wrong with either. But my queer child takes endless amounts of crap...from children, who are mostly just ape-ing and parroting their parents, and also from adults, who damned sure ought to know better.

I'm proud of my QUEER daughter for being brave enough and genuine enough to TELL THE TRUTH about who she is and how she feels, even though the consequences can sometimes be horribly unfair.

I don't want my STRAIGHT child growing up in an environment where ostensible authority figures, not to mention children, seem to think it's perfectly okay to hate on people for things they don't understand. And trust me, they DON'T understand. They think they do, but the ignorance they spout as justification for hazing and harassment just proves otherwise.

Here's some of the ignorant, shortsighted garbage I've gotten from people who actually *meant well*. I'm not even going to bother with the stuff that wasn't from well-meaning people, because it's not worthy of seeing the light of day.

Q: Aren't you sad to know you'll never see your daughter get married someday?

A: Who says she won't? First of all, I don't think the government has any business approving or disapproving of *anyone's* personal relationships or chosen family. It's none of their business. Religious marriage is a religious matter and not the business of the government. Civil Unions are a government matter, but if the government is going to be in the business of approving or disapproving such things, it has no right discriminating about it. What the government has to say about someone's relationships, and whether that relationship comes with an officially-stamped paper from the State or not, makes absolutely no difference in my eyes as far as the validity of the union.

Second, maybe she'll get married (for some value of "married") someday, maybe she won't. THERE ARE MORE WAYS TO LIVE A MEANINGFUL, HAPPY LIFE THAN JUST TO GROW UP, GET YOUR GOVERNMENT-SPONSORED PAPERS, SQUIRT OUT A FEW CHILDREN AND SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE MAKING CASSEROLES. IF that makes you happy, go for it. But how offensive to assume that this is the only kind of life that is meaningful. Whether or not she permanently pairs up in a romantic alliance with someone is irrelevant to whether or not she has a happy life. That's it.

Q: Aren't you sad that you'll never have grandbabies to spoil?

A: My children's wombs are not my property. Whether or not they choose to use them is their business, not mine. If I am pining so hard for babies, I can have my own, or adopt, or babysit. And who says they won't have babies someday just because they don't partner up? Last I checked, eggs and sperm don't ask to see a marriage certificate before uniting. And there's always adoption, which most of the less hysterical states in the country are increasingly ok with regardless of what sort of sex you might be having in the privacy of your bedroom.

Q: Doesn't it freak you out, seeing your daughter with a GIRL?!

A: No. At first, I thought it might be weird, something to get used to. But as it turns out, no, it's not. Love and happiness are what I see in their eyes, and that does not gross me out. I remember how beautiful young love is. I am extremely happy to see my daughter experiencing that. The rest is just details, and not important.

Q: Do you think this is because her biological father isn't in her life?

A: Jesus H. Jehosephat on a pogo stick. Her DAD has been in her life since she was first able to focus on objects. She's always had a father figure. It has nothing to do with masculine and feminine influences. GENDER identity and SEXUAL ORIENTATION are two entirely different issues. Entirely different. Not the same. Not even close. Apples and Oranges.

If this had anything to do with anything, then gay children would not be born to hetero couples. And gay couples would never end up with straight children. It's absolutely stupid. There is no rationality to that strange line of reasoning.

Q: Is there some hereditary reason why she's like that?

A: No. There just isn't. There is absolutely no genetic component to sexual orientation. None. Just because your preacher says... ]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14698742/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14698742/ Wed, 19 Sep 2007 09:13:57 PDT
Jicky is another such fragrance. Created by Guerlain Paris in the 1890's as an ode to a woman that Guerlain was besotted with. She was a tomboyish woman who rebuffed his advances and never married...what is known about her points to her probably being a lesbian...and the scent he created in her honor was meant to be marketed to men. It was all citrus and grass, almost Irish Spring-like in composition, but with an unmistakeably animalic backbone of real civet. Men were lukewarm towards it, but women loved the opportunity to wear what seemed to be such a light, fresh fragrance with a subtly subversive sexuality beneath the brisk exterior.

There are many, many more. When it comes right down to it, the only thing that really makes a fragrance Pour Homme or Pour Femme is marketing. The makers pick a gender and most people just don't question it. But if you deconstruct a man's or women's scent, you will come up with basically the exact same components. Jasmine and rose, you will hardly ever find a men's fragrance that does not use them as the heart notes. Lavender and violet are also very common in men's blends as well as women's blends. I'm not even getting into all the synthetic odor molecules that are so in vogue right now, because they're even more unisex than the scents of the past. Seriously, look at any fragrance in the department stores right now, and you are going to see a jumble of fruits and flowers, with accents of woods and spices here and there - whether a cologne or a perfume. This is why CK One and CK Be have done so well, because the difference is mostly mental anyway. It wasn't much of a leap to make.

Musk, which is supposed to be the "essence of attraction", is exactly the same ingredient whether it is in a perfume or a cologne - I suppose the only difference in who gets attracted is what the marketing has programmed into our assumptions to start with.

I wear a lot of scents that are marketed for men. I actually get a lot more compliments when I am wearing them, most of the time. In my opinion, I'm a woman, I live my life as a woman and my self-identity is feminine. Therefore, what I do and wear are inherently feminized by the fact that they are on me. This is never more clear than when my husband and I are wearing the same fragrance on the same day, and it smells differently on us each. Or on days when I am stealing his polo shirts, which I actually wear a lot more often than he does.

With my own perfumes, I never stick a gender label on them. Some of my scents are similar to the stuff that is considered in this day and age to be "masculine-like", but plenty of women buy and use them and love the scents when they have not been hobbled by a macho nacho label first. My nag champa blend, which is a very traditional floral-oriental fragrance, is extremely popular with men as long as I'm not actually calling it a "floral".

I think there's an important lesson in all of that. The image we project is about how we feel about ourselves. Wearing something with a particular label stamped on it won't change that, not really. We shouldn't let marketing campaigns box us into making "safe" choices that aren't what we really feel comfortable with.

Feeling comfortable in our own skin is the most attractive thing we can ever wear.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14648540/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14648540/ Sat, 15 Sep 2007 18:01:58 PDT
I love nights like this. The laughter coming from every direction. Everyone doing their thing, but close together, within reach.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14617673/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14617673/ Thu, 13 Sep 2007 13:42:03 PDT
Things You Should Know About Life, Love and Relationships By The Time You Are 25:

1. STOP with the soulmate crap. There is no one out there to 'complete' you. If there is a huge gaping hole of emptiness in your soul, getting into a relationship is the last thing you need. Huge gaping holes in one's soul are a sign that you need to deal with yourself, not distract yourself with food, sex, material goods or NRE (New Relationship Euphoria).

2. There is no White Knight. Be your own white knight. Men are just people. It's nobody's job to save you, except for you. Go ahead and mourn the loss of all the childhood fairytale endings you expected to really happen, but then realize that REALITY is actually pretty beautiful in it's own way, embrace it, and move on.

3. There is no Sleeping Princess. Women are just people. It's nobody's job to make you feel like your life has purpose, except for you.

4. If you have known someone for 4 months and you are expecting a commitment of FOREVER from them, you're fucking insane.

5. If you have known someone for 4 months and you are ready to GIVE a commitment of forever to someone, you're fucking insane.

6. If #4 or #5 happens, whoever runs away first is the least sick of the two.

7. If you start pledging your love within the first few dates, you are not in love. You are in love with the IDEA of being in love. You are needy and clinging. You don't need to be in a relationship, you need to spend sometime alone with yourself and figure out what the hell is wrong.

8. If either person in the relationship is barely more than a teenager, it's a very poor bet that it will last. Anyone who is no longer a teenager ought to know this. Teenagers can be temporarily forgiven for not knowing this yet. Thirty year olds cannot.

9. If you keep starting relationships with people, and then falling "deeply in love" with them in a matter of months, and then propose marriage and start talking about "forever" and "soulmates" before six months have passed, and then the relationship crashes and you are morose and suicidal, people will start finding it hard to have sympathy for you after the 4th or 5th round. If you keep taking handfuls of pills to "make the pain stop" or to "commit a symbolic death" over Blah Blah Blah Relationship Du Jour, people (read: me) are going to want you to either grow up or go away.

10. Jane Austen should be dug up and symbolically shot. Preferably by the dug-up remains of either Emily Dickinson or Alan Ginsberg. If neither are available, I'm sure the alive-and-beautiful Marge Piercy would do the honors.

11. If you give to someone (give birth, give cash, give time, give effort, give love) and the primary reason for doing so is so that you will get something in return, IT IS A SELFISH ACT. Nobody owes you anything. Guilt will only motivate people for so long. The backlash of anger that comes afterwards is often far worse than it is worth. Give (life, love, time, cash) because you WANT to give...not to add one more item to the "favor ticker" in your head. If you have a "favor ticker" in your head, get rid of it. It will bring nothing but pain. To everyone.

Ahh. That feels better. *twitch* *twitch*


Carry on, then.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14520704/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14520704/ Thu, 06 Sep 2007 17:43:52 PDT
I hope that tomorrow I will wake up and miraculously feel better so I can get to work while I still have a business to work in. On the other hand, I got paid $100 to lay here and answer questions on the phone this afternoon. Google wanted my feedback on the Adwords campaign I ran last year.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14421636/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14421636/ Fri, 31 Aug 2007 07:00:05 PDT

How do artists benefit from this? Is it about submitting your artwork for others to elaborate upon, sort of an artistic "grapevine" sort of effect? Is it simply artistic philanthropy?

I'm obviously not getting something.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14391386/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14391386/ Wed, 29 Aug 2007 06:41:14 PDT
And to assuage my discomfort regarding the DA terms of service, where they basically can take your stuff and do anything they want with it, including selling it as stock art collections for profit that you would never receive, I'm just watermarking my pictures. It's ugly, but it gets my message across: it's not cool to make a profit off of my efforts without at least asking, nevermind sharing. So there. This is my symbolic way of mooning The Establisment, man. Far out.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14346351/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/14346351/ Sun, 26 Aug 2007 09:19:12 PDT
I have a project I'm working on right now. It all started a couple weeks ago, when my daughter and I were in the car. Normally when Lorelei gets into the car with me the first thing she does is shut off my radio and talk. She just pours everything out, processing through all of her thoughts, asking my opinion on things, we toss around ideas for how to handle certain things, and eventually she works it out in a way that is effective for her. On this day, she suddenly blurted out the following:

"Someone stuck a sign to my back at school today. It said 'Fat Ass'."

I look at her. She looks small and vulnerable, ashamed. It's absurd, of course. Her butt is just fine. Even if it wasn't, I just hate the way we human beings carelessly hurl things like this at one another. I mean, what point could there possibly be to this act other than for some person to feel bigger by making her feel smaller? Or to somehow force her to act in a certain way in response? Perhaps someone was jealous of her figure and wanted to make sure she didn't enjoy feeling good about it. Perhaps someone resented how open and self-assured she is, and they wanted to break that down a bit, make her doubt herself, make her change into something less threatening to them. Who knows. Who cares. They hurt my girl, that's all I need to know.

I glance at her again, sitting there feeling embarassed. I envision her standing proud, looking over her shoulder with defiance, the words "Fat Ass" stuck in a stylized sign to her side. I can envision how completely that act would deflate the power of the words, how completely it would turn around what was meant to be a shaming and change it into a strengthening. I mull it over.

We stop for dinner. She has been craving brie with pesto, so I bring her somewhere to get it for her. But she won't eat. She says she isn't hungry, but I know better. She's feeling "fat" because of that slur. I order the brie and pesto anyway, and pick at it a little. I'm almost done with dinner when she finally gives in and eats, thank goodness.

So, feeling a bit better at not having let the words win, I tell her my idea. Her face changes immediately and she is excited. She goes home, tells her friends. I talk to my adult friends. Within half an hour, ten of my adult friends have sent in pictures with their own signs. They tell me to make a site, quick, before someone else gets the idea. So I do. Within the next several days, many parents sit down with their kids and work on signs for the kids. Some of the most poignant come from autistic kids, kids with emotional disabilities, kids who are gay or bisexual. Their parents send in photos, or for the older ones, encourage the kids to make something and send it. I get a lot of phone calls and emails telling me how much of a catharsis it has been for everyone.

I make my own picture. It is, indeed, cathartic. Words that have gnawed away at me my whole life out there, in the light of day, next to a big, peaceful smile. The words are nothing now. Ink and paper. I burn my signs. I feel lighter.

I find out that three hundred people have passed the word about the project, and the brand new site, with no content at all, has already gotten over five hundred hits in the first two days. Someone syndicates the site so that all the search engines can find it. I have heard from a couple of people who, having been berated their whole lives as ugly, are unable to cope with the idea of taking a picture of themselves. They ask to submit artwork instead, which is fine. A couple of people comment that it's "not their thing" personally, but that they admire the concept. Only one person reacts negatively at all, and that seems to be more a matter of them worrying that their parental authority is somehow being challenged, at least from what I can gather.

Today, I have a houseful of kids making signs. Some parents have driven over an hour to bring their kids here today. Some of the parents are staying to make their own signs.

We're on to something. This is helping people to heal their wounds. I'm in.

]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/13778505/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/13778505/ Wed, 18 Jul 2007 06:39:37 PDT
I remember 11 years ago, going to visit her on what was supposed to be her 40th birthday. She was very gloomy about it. But I got to thinking, doing the math, and I realized she was actually only 39. That made her whole day: she got a whole extra year before hitting the big 4-0.

I'm feeling pretty calm about her death anymore. I mean, that isn't to say I'm happy about it or that there was anything "right" about it, but it definitely wasn't any sort of surprise. Just a very sad ending. I wish it could have been avoided but, even if we had it all to do over again, I'm not sure it could have been prevented. Postponed, maybe, but at what cost? My children's emotional health? My marriage? I would have had to resign myself to spending the rest of my life keeping track of Mom and making sure she didn't do anything crazy. As much as I would have liked to prevent this, I have to say that I think I deserve to live a life, too. It wasn't my fault she kept ending up in such a mess, over and over again. And no matter how many times I swooped in and set everything right, she just knocked it all back over. And I don't think she appreciated me fixing things, anyway. I think she resented it. I know I resented doing it, at least after 20 or so years of repeating the process. All I ever wanted was for Mom to finally be OK, to not have to worry about her anymore. I understand now that the things that happened to her, combined with her basic temperament, caused her to grow into a skewed perception of pretty much everything about how life works, and this vast array of twisted and knotted perceptions on life made it impossible for her to succeed in functioning in this world. I'm so sad for that. Because she was such a good, kindhearted, strong, optimistic, determined person in so many ways. But the way she approached her life and the way she interacted with the world brought only the worst outcomes to her. Some people manage to squeak by on hard work and some amount of dumb luck. Mom, she never seemed to catch a break. She made plenty of mistakes; we all do. But for mom, every mistake seemed to bring the hardest possible penalty.

I'm sad that my grandparents had whatever trauma they had that made them damaged. I'm sad that they passed that damage on to my mom. I'm sad that her temperament was such that she wasn't able to ever heal from that damage. I'm sad that her life was a continuous disappointment for so many years, that she was never able to find the magic formula for peace, happiness, love and security in her own life. I wish it could have been different. But this is life.











Ugh. Stepdad #3. He was poison for me and I spent years undoing the damage he caused me emotionally. But for Mom, I think this was the truest love she ever experienced. It was wrong for her to choose to turn a blind eye to the way I was being harmed by living with him. But some part of me can understand why she clung to him at all costs...and the costs were high, believe me. They were broken in very similar ways, these two. They had been divorced over 10 years when she died, but when I cleaned out her house there was one of his old shirts and an old belt neatly hanging on the wall next to her bed.



A year or so after she died, I had a dream one night where she just showed up one day at my house, just casual, as if it were just all one big misunderstanding and an amusing story to tell. Even in the dream I was freaking out, but she just sort of shrugged her shoulders and gave her eternal, lighthearted smile and moved on as if it were nothing. As if being dead were no big deal, she was just on vacation in Florida for a while, not really that far away. I know that's a pretty common thing to experience, probably just something my brain was doing to try to cope with the enormity of such a huge fixture in my life suddenly vanishing as she had, but I still feel her presence all the time, every day. I really do. I don't know how these things work, (and no, I'm not interested in hearing how your religion handles such things, it's all just *FAITH* anyway), but I do feel like she's very much around and very much knows what is going on. I have always kind of felt like I had something, a guardian angel if you have to put some sort of name on it, watching over me. I used to have the feeling that it was Pop - my mother's father, who died when he was 43 - same age as Mom when she died - but now I feel like it is her. I imagine Pop is relieved, he doesn't have to look after anyone here anymore. Mom is gone. Grandma died less than a week after Mom died. Mom's brothers are doing just fine and need no looking after. I don't think it's a matter of having something protecting... ]]> ~Althaeasoap http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/13774921/ http://Althaeasoap.deviantart.com/journal/13774921/ Tue, 17 Jul 2007 20:40:05 PDT
I know I have a lot of friends from other areas who have DA profiles, I just need to find out what their handles are. I did remember Russ (arkhamrefugee) and got him added, but there must be dozens more.

Please excuse my non-prompt responses to comments; I don't get emailed comment notifications here like I do for everything else so I don't tend to remember to check regularly.

I have zillions of pictures to upload as I get time. Not tonight. I have a migraine and my brain is trying to leak out of my ears. I made 90 pounds of soap in the shop today, shipped 30 orders and boxed 500 bars of soap. Why are there no cookies waiting on me at home? How come I gots no parade?

A few things:

1. This is probably the last time you will see me using capitalization. It's not that I don't know how to capitalize, it's that I just don't care. This isn't an English class and you can't make me.
2. You also can't make me eat liver. Ever.
3. I try to be deliberate and thoughtful about as much of my life as I can. Whenever I catch myself making an assumption about someone, or reacting emotionally rather than logically, or feeling defensive because I'm outside of the realm of my comfort zone, I try to stop and take a look at what's going on. There's too much hate and intolerance in this world; ultimately I have no control over anything beyond myself; therefore, my contribution to increasing the level of tolerance, compassion, understanding and kindness in the universe is to do my best to make sure that's what is coming out of me most often.
4. That said, if you hurt my children, emotionally or physically, I will eat your face.
5. My husband hasn't been dragged to DA yet, either. He's rather un-drag-able, actually. I have a better chance of bringing him here if I never actually suggest such a thing to him at all. You can go see his work at [link] if you want.
6. I'm a native of New Orleans, La. Not only that, but I grew up right downtown in the French Quarter. If you have ever been there, this will tell you a lot about my personal culture and philosophies on life.
7. I spent 3 years in a convent, yes, an actual Nunnery, as a child. My dad wanted me to grow up to be a nun. Well, it didn't work. Just as well; he's not even Catholic anymore.
8. My daughters are Lorelei and Storm. Storm was named by her dad, it was his turn to pick a name. His favorite thing in the whole world is a roiling thunderstorm. There you go. I named Lorelei. The Lorelei of mythology were also known as the Sirens, who lured sailors out to sea to their deaths. I kind of had a bad attitude about men during that time of my life. But I still think the name is beautiful. And Lorelei also means Mermaid, which suits Lorelei perfectly - varsity swimmer, a backstroke champion.
9. I have some sort of congenital disorder that makes my spine cave in, form bone spurs, blow out discs, etc. So I tend to bitch about my back hurting a lot. This is because my back hurts a fucking LOT. And I haven't given in to painkiller dependency yet so it's natural, all the time. I keep going and I keep on living my life, but what good is it to not acknowledge the huge elephant in the room? It's there, it's a huge elephant that follows me from room to room, and I deal with it. Everyone has stuff, that's my stuff.

Enough. It's time to put on my neck traction device and see if I can kill this headache. Night!

]]> ~Althaeasoap