Posts Tagged ‘brave’

12 st 9 AND how to terrify a tot

October 21, 2012

I don’t know how I managed to lose weight this week. I gorged myself, and largely in response to this IVF stuff. Due to an injury on Monday, I also tried to move as little as possible. So we had McDonald’s, chips, pizza, chocolate, crisps, etc. I think I’ll try harder this week.

I don’t have much more to say. I mean, I could fill a novel with how I can eat to punish myself, but really, the cinema is more uppermost in my mind. We took the kids to their first movie this morning – Brave. I had been thinking for awhile that it might be fun to see a film, and discovered kid special prices on weekend mornings. I knew Brave was Disney/Pixar so assumed it would be okay. It was only are booking that I read all these reviews saying not to bring kids under seven.

Well, yeah. That shit was REAL. Intense, scary, totally jacked up but also quite charming. Snort made it about halfway through, to the point where the mum is changed into a bear and all the noisy men are chasing her through the castle. Tears were running down his face, and he and TMD left the movie.

About ten minutes later I texted her to say the movie was funny again, but he refused to reenter. Good. Because the next thing you know, bears are fighting and people are getting shot and giant rocks are crushing bears.

Coconut was chill. Princess Merida crashed through the floor into a deserted creepy castle with a killer bear. Her response? ‘That lady needs a ladder.’

Princess Merida is sobbing because her beloved mother almost just killed her, and is in fact going to be transformed into a bear forever, and her dad might have to kill her? ‘That poor, poor lady. She is so sad and crying because her mum is a bear. She just wants her mum and dad to be happy again like a family.’

I’m there cringing and worried about inflicting psychological danger, and her only complaint is that the movie is too loud. She likes it and wants to see it again.

Snort, on the other hand – ‘That movie scared me. I not see that movie again. Come to the cinema and see red car movie!’ Yes, so. We will keep ours eyes out for cut price Cars, but at the very least I may do a more careful selection of film title next time. Brave was good, but I didn’t realise the name may have been an indication of the way a viewer would need to be in order to survive the darker elements.

It was fun, though. But that being said, I was sat by the kid who didn’t care about her popcorn and stayed the whole movie through. TMD, however, has a headache and didn’t get much popcorn. BOOyah.

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I don’t know how long this link will be up. Just fair warning.

September 16, 2011

From my written journal this morning:

Today I just need to wait for the editors at _____________ to email saying my chapter has been accepted.

I am afraid of linking to it on Facebook. Even my blog.

What has crystalized for me is that I am afraid if people don’t like my writing, they won’t like ME. They’ll judge, they’ll lose respect, they’ll never look at me the same way again. Instead of encouraging my writing dream, they will silently roll their eyes and keep their mouths shut because I’m not worth it anyway. Not good enough.

Wow.

Two years of therapy and I only see this now.

Wow. 

This is deeper than a fear of rejection, or IS this the fear?

But why should I CARE? I know I am an awesome person.

WHY is fiction writing – and the exposing of it – such a BIG thing?

There is more. And there was even more I thought of but didn’t have a chance to note down before it submerged, once again, into the murky depths of my unconscious.

Two friends on twitter (hi, girlies!) asked for a link to read my chapter. And I like them enough to feel safe enough to have asked: Will you like me anyway?

Will you like me when you discover the genre I think it would be fun to write as a day job is ___________? Will you like me even though ___________ is wrong with my chapter? Will you commit to writing me comments – all please on the actual entry (you need to register with the site to leave comments and rate), unless they are comments about how truly terrible it is, in which case please email me directly?

This is the real me: insecure, longing, hesitant. Also brave enough to say it. I’m afraid. I find my fear isn’t about submitting my work in the first place, it’s about waiting to hear what other people think.

Thus, gulp, fuck, terror: click here to read the chapter I submitted. I refuse to allow myself to write disclaimers for it (but they are demanding and brutal and trying to fight their way through my fingertips onto the screen). I just need to keep breathing and say: fine, if you want to read it, you can. If you would like to comment on it*, I would really appreciate that. Honest feedback, please, though remember I am fragile. If you would like to rate it, go for it.

I can take it.

I think.

*Remember, you need to register on the site to read, comment, and rate my offering to the competition gods. It takes fifteen seconds to do so. Thus far I’m feeling like I have already won, just because I entered. Having the editors give it the okay to go through to the competition is icing on the cake. Maybe your comment will be my cherry? All comments on the actual competition site, please, so I can have them all in one place. Of course, if you want to copy and paste your comment over here, that’s fine.

Or leave a comment here saying that linking to this entry will not result in certain death, trauma, or a hemmorage of disappointment.

(I realise I am totally fucking crazy because YOU PEOPLE see my writing all the time. It’s all you see of me. But this blog feels like the real me, not writing….even just putting the link into this entry has accelerated my heart rate. God only knows if I can click ‘publish.’)

Things you should know.

November 12, 2010

One, I’m psychic. Last night/this morning I had a dream that we found the square piece that fits in the shape sorter. That happy bastard has been missing for so long I was starting to wonder if we’d ever owned it. This morning TMD said, ‘Hey, guess what. I found the square.’

One and a half, last year she was telling me all about some work conference she’d been on. I stopped her and said, ‘I am trying to listen to you, but I keep seeing the colour turquoise in my mind.’ She freaked out. Turns out she’d found a turquoise heart in her coat pocket that day, and had been holding it most of the afternoon.

Two, I’m not a nutjob. I swear.

Three, when I was little – and still today – I was utterly and completely freaked out by worms. On a huge level. I knew that when we fished, we used worms as bait (though my grandmother took pity on me and let me use pieces of bologna or corn). I refused to eat fish because I knew the awful truth: fish ate worms.

Three and a half, I also believed that squirrels lived inside green beans. Like, multiple squirrels per bean.

Four, I unfriended my father’s girlfriend on facebook. Her account was the way he accessed my profile – and pictures of the babies, etc. THIS IS HUGE. Clicking that unfriend button was HUGE. Admittedly there had been no ‘action’ from her/his profile in awhile, but I have been so freaking scared to finally cut off this ‘tie.’ It feels good. I feel brave.

Five, I’ve had a bad SPD relapse. This is due to a lot of things I won’t bore you with. But it’s been one week and one day of something quite hellish. I cannot wait for the blood to flow.

Six, tomorrow is Aussie’s son’s first birthday party. When were we grown up enough to have kids this old? Mine turned FIFTEEN MONTHS yesterday. I remember sitting in the pub with her, making comments about wanting to steal the bellies/babies of pregnant women.

Seven, I really need to get back on the enthusiasm and motivation train. The level of pain I’ve been in – coupled with my lovely pre-period self (argh, I’m a mean, tired bitch!) – leaves me utterly exhausted and down. I need to lose this weight. I need to write about when I gain weight rather than lose it. I need to be accountable.

Seven and a half, not to place blame, but things went down the shitter when ya’ll stopped wooing and hooing for my weight loss journey. You need to be held accountable. *wink* <— that was a fake wink to make you think I was being breezy about this.

Eight, I had to skip NaNoWriMo writing a few nights ago. I wanted to skip yesterday, too, but managed to do a day's writing. So as of last night, I was only a day behind. As of tonight, I am two days behind. I need to stop blogging and start romancing.

Nine, The Romancer is picking up speed and is more enjoyable to write.

Nine and a half, I still would prefer to watch Friends. Except every night when I finish writing, I am all YEEHAW and KABLOOEY and wetting myself with excitement. I put in the DVD, and fall asleep within five minutes of the show starting. I slept all last night in my glasses.

Ten, I am going to go all crazy cool and start using a Reusable Menstrual Cup, this cycle if all goes well. Prepare for posts full of too much information now. I foresee panic posts about silicone things stuck in my vajayjay, stories of how good I am at bearing down to get it out due to lesbian sexual activities, and blood spilling all over the floor.

Ten and half, night night. Sweet dreams to you, speedy writing to me.