I would also like to take a moment and claim the title of Michelle's Israeli pimp, since it seems that since I discovered her vlog I have been talking up her posts and / or sending people to see them. I wonder if this position comes with a hat... I would like a black one if it does and it's a fedora.

Going with my kid sister to the mall is always a challenge, and I try to avoid it at all costs. Since I myself dislike shopping and prefer the veni-vidi-vici approach, I tend to get restless and soon after go insane at any given store that I spend more than 15 minutes in. Unless, of course, they sell books. I may have more patience where there are pretty things to look at (take that statement as you will), but bottom line – I will always prefer being outside than being in a mall.*

Ofri is not like this at all. She comes alive when stepping into a mall. She loves shopping and has been prone to throwing marvelous tantrums if chance has it and she's going home empty handed. Heaven forbid if someone got something and she didn't. At the tender age of 11, she has already said the phrases – 'I have nothing to wear!'; 'does this make me look fat?'; and: 'I'm watching what I eat'.

And for this I'm going to borrow Michelle's voice and say – Really?! REALLY?!

Fine, so I'm not the best example to go by considering I hardly gave a damn what I wore up until five or so years ago. But seriously – we are bombarded constantly by images, and commercials (those of us who watch TV on a TV that is), TV shows – by this I mean any shows where actual actors are shown, not various animations, and so on where a certain body type shape look ideal thrust upon us and people get that into their heads.

A while ago a friend of my mom's was here and talked about ANTM saying he and his wife don't allow their girls to watch if because of the way those women are portrayed: cut-throat bitches that swear often. And while I liked watching ANTM at the time, I could not argue against him.

So now we go to that mall and Ofri tries clothes on, and they fit great. Nearly everything she tries on fits her wonderfully.

Excuse me a second while I take a moment to grumble... This is NOT fair.

Anyway – an 11 year old girl and stuff fits her like they made it for her. And I'm not talking only of children's stores, but of stores where people my age buy stuff too. Hence the earlier grumble. This makes me think – This girl who has no bodily curves yet gets to have stuff fit her like that – who are these people designing for?? Again – not children's stores, but things for adults. True, it's not that everything does that, but in six out of eight things I saw her try on – that was the case.

So really – who are those stores trying to sell to? Because when the model looks like this than I expect to find that the store caters to women. You know - the kind of human with breasts and butts and thighs, or any combination of the three. I honestly don't get it...

So this was my mini 'what is this world coming to' rant for today. I hope it wasn't an all too difficult read.

 

While I'm recommending half way random stuff (Michelle's vlog, remember?), I want to take a moment to talk about something old and something new. I decided I wanted to go back to some good old crime / detective / layer shows, and so I bring you –

Something Old – NCIS. For some reason I stopped watching this show somewhere after the start of season 4. I downloaded said season and am catching up. I love this show. I really do. And oh, how much I've missed it... It's amusing to see thou that now, years later as I go back, Ziva, the Chilean Israeli woman, is no longer my favorite. I don't have a new favorite, just yet and it'll probably be either DiNozzo or Abby, but the lovely Chilean has lost her spot.

Something New – The Good Wife. I did not hear of this show before Thursday where ralst put up a post over and passion_perfect about it. I figured that since I'm not downloading a show that day anyway than what the hey, I'm not loosing anything. Forget the shallow end of the pool where I say Julianna Margulies, Archie Panjabi, and Christine Baranski (she did not make any impression in episode 1, I just like her). Forget that for one minute – the characters are interesting, and based on the pilot – episodes 2 + 3 + 4 are downloading as we speak. Scratch that - #2 just finished. The inside of courtroom plot was intriguing, and the outside of the courtroom plot has the potential of making me wish an episode was airing everyday, & Mr. Big, which is amusing.

I'm getting up in less then seven hours so I think I'll start heading out now...

*Extreme temperatures not included in the calculation.

René leaned back in her chair in surprise. In the past three years since they had met she had seen the other woman go through nearly every mood imaginable, but this distress was new. "Sellestte, please..." she tried and the other woman immediately stopped her pacing and turned, mid step, to face her blonde friend with her eyes burning.

"No, René." She concluded. "You don't understand it." She repeated; hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "If I go back there," René watched as her friend's shoulders tensed even more, "than I might kill him."

"You won't." The blonde replied calmly with a small shake of her head.

"I will kill him René. I know that I will stand there and watch as I let his life just ooze out of him."

"You won't." She repeated, the conviction still as strong, the shake of her head more noticeable this time. "You are not the kind who would do that, Sweetie."

"You don't know that!" For the first time in three years she heard the redhead raise her voice. Sellestte's entire body shook with the force of her statement. "You don't know that..."

"Then tell me." Was the quiet response as René got up from her chair to approach her still shaking friend. "You've managed to avoid answering most of my family related questions over the years, but Sellestte, look at you," she paused a step away from her closest friend and reached out to stroke the other woman's cheek, ignoring the minute flinch. "I will never hurt you."

The redhead hung her head, only raising it when René brought her second hand to her other cheek, effectively forcing the movement. Still, the leader of the Order of Death would not look at the woman standing before her, preferring to look away and close her eyes to meeting the green eyes before her.

"Sweetie please, talk to me."

A quick move of her head and René's hands were no longer cupping her cheeks. With her eyes still firmly shut she ran first one hand and then the other through her hair, from her temples to the back of her head as she battled with herself. René felt at though a different person was lowering her hands back to her sides as she watched her best friend struggle with her demons for a few long moments.

It felt like eons had past by the time Sellestte opened her eyes.

"He used to beat me." She stated flatly, struggling to show no emotion in her voice. She kept her jaw clenched tight as she spoke, her words clipped. "There were so many of us, but he used to beat me." Her words accentuated with a finger pointing to her own chest. "It took..." She paused to take a deep breath and release it again, "it took an act of Will to remove the scars he left on my body."

René moved then, slowly, so as not to jar the woman before her, and put her arms around her friend, pulling the other woman into an embrace. "I hated him so much when I left. I was just happy to be able to get away from there. To be somewhere he can't find me." Softly stroking the soft hair under her fingertips the blonde allowed her tears to silently fall. "He would always be able to..." she couldn't finish the thought, "and when he did, he would beat me so much harder and longer that I..." she sighed, "I was just happy to get away."

"Things are different now, Sweetie."

Sellestte shook her head. "If he saw me..."

"He doesn't have to." René interrupted her. "We can go unseen. I will be with you for every step of the way." She pulled back a bit and looked at the other woman's eyes, smoothing a lock of hair behind an ear. "I will be with you, if you want me. There is a world out there, Sellestte. I would love for you to come out there. I would love to show you where I live."

"You live in a different half of the globe than they." It was only now that the redhead could bring her arms up to return her friend's hug.

"True. But do you want to keep running? Sweetie, I love you. The last thing I want is to see you hurt, but I don't think it's healthy for you to be here all the time. And if you go there, unseen," she hastened to add, "than there will be no other places that you won't be able to go." Her tone was quiet, almost pleading, trying to reassure the other woman of the reason behind her words.

Breaking their embrace, Selestte moved back to the chairs they sat on before and dropped herself, with a dull thud, on her favorite. As she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees and her head hanging low she sighed then looked up. Green eyes locked through strands of red hair.

"I need to think about this." She said at last before lowering her head again.

"Will you?" Asked the blond as she came closer to her friend.

"I will. But please," she raised her head again, pulling her hair from her face as she did so, "leave it for now." René nodded. "Leave me for now."

"Sellestte..." the seated woman shook her head.

"I have been awake for 17 hours now, René. I'm tired, and this conversation only added to my exhaustion." She rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "I will talk with you about this within the week if it's so important to you."

"Sellestte..." the redhead shook her head again, raising a palm to stop her friend.

"Please René, not now."

It was with a heavy sight that the blonde agreed to leave, and silently made her way to the door. "I am going to be in Auckland if you want me." Sellestte nodded at that. "You will talk to me?" She nodded again.

"I am not telling you to go just to end the conversation René, I really am exhausted. I will think of you when I wake up. We can continue this talk then if you're up and I'm up to it." René nodded again.

"I hope you have pleasant dreams, Sweetie."

"Honestly, I'm hoping that I won't dream." The standing woman received a small smile, causing her fingers to twitch with wanting to hug the other woman and help ward against the bad memories. "Remember, I know what you're thinking," she added with a smile, "there will be time for that. Right now I just want to go to bed."

"Alright." René agreed, "but, Sellestte," she paused, "did he ever..." her head shook a bit as she tried to utter the words.

"No." The other woman stated flatly. She got up from her seat, the smoothed her hands down the front of her clothes. "Never."

René nodded. "Sleep well, Sweetie."

"Thank you."

With that, the blonde reached for the door, and with a final look back, left quietly.

Ok. End rant, time for some Inglorious Bastards comments.
 

I just need to watch out for Liz Hurley in a red dress or a guy in a smart business suit that offers me this deal. When that comes than it'll probably mean I actually found some really good pain meds.

Mom told me today that she heard of this rabbi who knows many doctors and can, if you go and describe the problem to him, send you to the very good specialist. I basically raised an eyebrow at her. The words 'rabbi' and 'get better' don't mesh. At least in my mind... The thing is that I trust her when it comes to these things, I trust her judgment and choices. But with her school year starting in a week I keep feeling that I don't want to nag her.

Silly isn't it?

She knows I'm in pain. I know that she is fully aware of this fact. But I don't know how much to push to start this thing. This second round of dealing with doctors and tests and specialists. Of trying not to get my hopes up. Of trying to keep optimistic. Of this second round of bills and driving and money that is getting thrown out on this... condition... that I'm not able to pay for, and so she needs to.

I can see people rolling their eyes when reading this. But there are things which I have to do. Taking care of myself is my job. Making sure I'm ok, eating right, exercising, walking. I am the one who is supposed to do that! I should be able to get up on my own two damned legs and say 'who do ya have to fuck to get a break in this stinking town?!'

And now I'm quoting The Producers. *Sigh* my lovely Canadian would be proud.

But seriously – I hate it that I am not able to do nearly half of those things. I hate it more that I can't even apply for certain jobs because they would entail standing up for long periods of time which would in turn lead to me wanting to die for long periods of time, or other manifestations of dealing with overwhelming pain.

On another topic, since I'm sick and tired of dealing with this one – I need to start thinking about grad school. The 'what' is easy, and mostly done: I want to study genetics. Preferably human genetics in some lab that is in a medical part of a university and not in a biological part, because the future options that that kind of study opens up are larger. Also – model organisms in biology are lovely. Really, they are. But spending my life with flies, rats, yeast, or worms will only be nice if I choose to make a career out of fishing. In boats.

So that's one question down.

And now, after a short break to help Gadi raise an oven to the roof of our house, I'm back. Yes, an oven. Yes, the roof. Two tables, a vast amount of rope, a ladder and some burlap-like-plastic were involved. Thank the gods we don't live in a four story apartment building anymore... Trust an engineer who has also gone to the Scouts to solve the problem of getting an oven on the roof (why are we keeping that thing??) using those tools (I swear – he throws nothing away). I was saying something of pain meds, wasn't I?

Back to the point.

Now come the where. Close to home? In the university in Tel Aviv? Or battle the math portion of the GMAT to try and get into BGU even though I don't have the average for it? And if I take on the GMAT – Why not go abroad? The schools are probably better, for one thing. And if abroad where? I can hear Rachael in the back of my head saying – 'here!' and I'd be lying to say I'm not tempted

Just like Marom told me yesterday – get a fresh start in a new place. Practically start your life over. New habits, new everything. But I can't. The baggage is old. The knees stay the same. And I need to take care of myself. I can't just up and disappear from my own body. I can wish it, but it just doesn't happen.  So I need to figure things out. I need to think, make decisions and work to get those decisions to start taking shape.

I'm not a character, I'm a writer. Or at least – I like to think of myself as one.

But right now, I need to look for something that will make the pain a bit less sharp...

So, that last post was somewhat of stretching my limits, since I don’t like to deal with things that would make me cry. Other than the occasional movie. Whatever movie, I’m a sap.

I just came back from watching the movie Fame, and I left the hall with three thoughts: 1. the girl playing Jenny kinda looks like Ellen Page (turns out I just remembered her face from Summerland); 2. Megan Mullally did NOT get enough screen time; And 3. - the drama teacher had a point when he said that you can't can what you haven't tapped into – what you haven't allowed yourself to feel.

So this is going to be another writing exercise. Only this time, I actually have a purpose in mind when I start this, rather than just a prompt.

No, this is not a metaphor for anything, I'm actually writing about things that I had on my closet doors. Only read this if you want to get to know me better.

Well, it's day two into my resolution and I don't really feel like writing. At all. So I'm sitting here in front of a big ole Word document and trying to see what I can talk about that doesn't cover yesterdays mess because, well, I'm aware of who follows me, and I'm deliberately keeping myself out of yet another family dispute that turned into 'she said' / 'she said'. What can I say - there are many opinionated females in my family.

So, in order to do this I googled a prompt generator, that seemed to be aware of the things that I don't want to tackle. So, true, I can write in a less public forum. I can have more than one entry a day that is visible to 'friends only'. Heck, I can make my entire Lj a 'friends only' sort of place. The appropriate "apologizing" graphics are easy enough to come by / create anyway.

But this is not the reason I'm doing this. This is not the reason I write. I don't want to sensor myself, but I also hate providing the commentary on things that I have no part commenting on. Not that I don't do that at all... It's inevitable to do so when living as a part of a family. But when it all boils doen do 'did X happen this way' or 'did X happen (at all)', than what is the point of me throwing my 2 cents into the pool?

By not wanting to talk about it I wrote three paragraphs. 'Yay!' to my internal monologue... *rolls eyes*


So random prompt from the third link in that google search says: "Many people have to wait a long time for something to happen. Write a story telling about something you had to wait a long time to get."

You will forgive me if this won't be a story, right?

I'm not much for the material things. Go shopping with me once, and it'll be very clear. Annoyingly clear when you ask me what gifts do I want. Ask danlian. But I am a sports fanatic, and I love the feeling of wind in my face. I used to scare my drivers whenever I'd get on my bike as a kid / adolescent. *grins*

A couple, or so, years ago I realized that my roller-blades were getting too small for me to be able to wear them without being uncomfortable and getting blisters. That means that buying new ones was in order.

I was in employed at the time. Second year at BGU, if I'm not mixing up the times. No, I was employed, I was freelancing as a columnist at the student paper, so the pay was... a joke. I did however put 50 or 100 NIS away each month towards that goal. Combine that with a bit of "holiday cash" (thank you grandparents), and seven months later - I had enough to buy the skates and a helmet, only to discover that the pair I wanted were about 400 more than I was willing to pay. Saying 'thank you very much', I looked for something a bit saner and found Athena.

This pair could not look more different than the slick white model that caught my eyes (which I can not seem to locate on line since I forgot the name of the model). What bothered me the most - was the pink. But I did buy them, because their quality was... I'm lacking words. And it turns out mom had a helmet. So all the better – I even got to keep some cash.

It took a while to get used to them again. I've been roller-bladeing (how do you spell this??) on and off for years, but It has been a while, and for some reason, we always manage to find a hill to live on. So out of the first five times I took the skates out for a ride I fell twice. Once in a lovely comic moment - on my ass, and the other time I managed to fall, and roll, nearly under the wheels of a car when I miscalculated my speed for a turn. Lucky for me, I was wearing pads, the helmet and the car was stopped at that cross. This story might have been very different if one of those things was different... Anyway, I apologized for scaring her, she yelled at me, and I dusted myself off and moved to finish my way home.

It was a while before I rode again after that. But when I did I headed to one of my favorite spots in the city – the small park in my (relatively new*) neighborhood. There's a basketball / soccer court there that has a concrete floor and is empty in the mornings. And so I set to teach myself useful, and slightly less useful, skills.

My control over nearly every element in my movement is better now – judging speed, turning (apparently there's more than one way to turn), skating backwards and I'm still working on that T-stop which is harder than the rest...

So I can do some tricks now that allow me to feel more like I'm a part of the scene that I pass through and less like I want to find the reins and pull back hard so that things will stop until I'll get my bearings. Also – less blue marks form the 'slam into something in order to stop' technique that is now all but obsolete.

But the best part – skating backwards. I've wanted to learn how to that for over six years before I managed to grasp the concept. It's all in the location I suppose... and having good skates. Being close to that park, which means easier access, and wearing something that does not hurt my feet let to practice time, which led to bettering myself.

I guess it was a bit of a story after all... With a couple of morals and everything... How amusing...

It's amazing what a little decision can do, isn't it?

I signed up for NaNoWriMo yesterday with the intention of getting the Darrakan to finally come out of that place in my soul that housed it, in all its incarnations and recreations, for the past nine years.

Nine years...

I started rereading some of the work I did "back then", be it in the 9^th grade when I first spun that secret world – when it was so rigid and hierarchal. When the clothes were practically a uniform, and up until random scenes that I drew in the past couple of years where the hierarchy is all but gone, and the clothing is more of a guideline. Except maybe in formal events... I have some work in front of me yet, especially in all that seems trivial. Or that will seem trivial in the story.

Accepting the decision to write again, especially the character of René, has given me a sense of peace. I have feared writing her for a while now, not only because I've kept nurturing her even when I've put the story "to rest", but because writing her, I have to be in a very specific frame of mind that I just couldn't get into. But I'm starting to feel her again. It's small. Only slight undercurrents right now, but it's more than I've felt of her in two years. I'm hoping this grows within the upcoming month so that I can slip in and out of her character. She is after all the lead in half of the story of the Darrakan.

I still can't seem to see Tamar (or Tami), but seeing as I'm not entirely sure of the name she prefers to be called in, it's not surprising. I keep seeing her as somewhere between who I was then (the high-schooler) and who I am now (the 20-something with the degree). And I know I need to go back to the high school days, since her story begins when she is still in there. More than that, I need to remember that while I cut parts of the outline for Tamar's former incarnation from bits of my cloth, Tamar might be different. Heck, she probably is. I just need to figure her out.

I also need to do some writing exercises, or writing 1667 words a day for a month is going to be really hard. I agree fully with Thomas Mann when he said: "A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult then it is for other people."


But to take care of that – a to do list:
1. Finish 'Phantom' by Barak and Shikma's wedding day.
2. Write at least 800 words a day this upcoming month; not including the 'deeds list' (may be taken along with 1)
3. Understand the character of Tamar.
4. Secondary character development
5. Try and locate a few plot-line land-marks. I'm not entering this story with 360 degrees of open field again. That was one of the reasons I got lost the first second time.
 

Or – The list I’ve “stolen” from Rachael – Days 5+6+7

I’ll start chronologically since in this case it’s easier.

Friday:

* We were heading out on a 2.5 day holiday so I helped packing the “family things”: mostly cooking gear, but suggestions also to Mom and Ofri’s clothes and “boredom passers”.

* Finished the rounds of calls and texts (and tweets, oh my!) wishing friends Shana Tova.

* Talked with Barak to get some transport details about his wedding. The bus option fell through since he switched jobs and now has much less people coming from Ba”Sh. I now need to make different sleeping / driving plans for the end of Oct.

* Got Gadi to rest after a long drive while I played the role of chauffer and got Mom and Ofri from the pool in Kfar Szold. Trust my mom and myself to always find water :D

* I got adopted by 5 kids from the age of 5 to 15 (two girls, three boys), + my sister to make the numbers even, and played with them for over two hours. By played I mean ran around, got myself under a pile of ‘em, lifted the little one in what’s referred to as an ‘airplane’, and then got dragged into ‘hide and seek’ (a game which I never got the point of, by the way...), among other things.

                I didn’t have any knee pains at the time. Saturday and today are different matters...

Saturday:

* Managed not to mope around while Mom and Ofri ice-skated for half an hour (while I could barely walk). Since I brought this on myself, I can’t complain, can I?

* Convinced my Mom and Ofri to join me when I went horseback riding. Ofri still wants to go again. Frankly – so do I...

* Handled the camera throughout that trip. So there are shots of Ofri (or at least her back) and Mom riding.

* Made salad for 10 people. Well… mom and I made salad for 20 people, I was just trying to divide that somehow...

* Got about 100 pages further along in my book despite the fact that I’m having difficulties with how one of the leads is reacting to the fact that he is actually a girl. I mean, the... kid... needs to freak out just a bit!..

* Put my hands in the Dan river. Running water is good for my mental health... I have picture evidence that this goes w--a--y back :)

* Went swimming. Used upper body strength, not my legs.

Sunday:

* Help pack and load car for the journey back.

* Took a small side trip with the family to the waterfall at the Banias River. You can’t touch the river there, but it rained on us on the way back and we all got soaked :D

* I wrote. A lot.

* (Finally) sent Rachael a greeting card.

                Slow day...
 

I did think this (subject) much more clearly in the car going from spot A to spot B on that Rosh Ha’Shana trip...

I think I only speak like myself when I’m alone, and talking to myself. Yes, I talk to myself, yes, I’ve done it all of my life, no, if you think about it, it’s not odd. I just do it out loud more often than you do. *clears head of someone’s smirking face*

It’s even popping up now, this ability of mine to talk, or write, like others do. It’s something that psychologists, or sociologists I don’t remember which group, have noticed before in body language: we tend unconsciously to copy the person before us. Make similarities.

It was like this for me with Liron’s blog. I drew parallels when I could, and noted the differences when there weren’t similarities. Like the depression, battling my self-image, feelings of alone, laughing a lot and often; but I was never diagnosed. I don’t think I ever want to be.

In a way this came up in regards to my knees over the weekend: my Mom, or Gadi, said something about getting them (the ever elusive, full of crap ‘them’) to write me down as (sort of?) handicapped due to the lovely side-effects of the pain which range from a slight difficulty to an all out inability to walk. I snapped saying that I wouldn’t do that: I will not give in to this. In a way – I will keep being like the majority around me.

This from an out gay girl.

I’m threading together things that are not connected. Again.

And I have derailed. Again. *sigh* I hate it when I do that in writing...

I try to figure this ‘chameleon’ thing out. Is there anything other than wanting to belong that fuels it? Why am I not aware of this when it happens with speech rhythms? Not even after the effects have passed. Except once... Does this happen with other things? I know I claim that Arit “changed” me or Galidafied made me less of a Tomboy with her influence, But if this was simply me being a chameleon I would have reverted back sometime in the past… four or so years, no?

I have never been good at self analysis...

I’ve recently, and by recently I mean a few days ago, added a new item to my daily reading list: my friend Liron's blog. Seeing as we’re “new friends” I started reading as a way of getting to know her better without pulling that ‘300 question’ questionnaire, like the one they gave us the first time my corp. screened applicants, because well… I’m not that kind of insane.

But since reading it I feel myself leaning back on every post. And I don’t lean back unless there is something to absorb, or if it’s a difficult read.
 

The writer in me is shaking her little head now, reminding me that there is a difference between content and style. I can never seem to keep things simple...

She writes about things that she went through long ago, that are so old to her that they hardly have any effect on her currently. The people reading, however, are a different story. I’m not talking about me. I’ve lived a relatively sheltered life in this regard, and I’ve told her so – I don’t know people who have gone through what she has. Or if I did / do – I was never told of it (not talking about the obvious things). But even though I don’t read the comments made on her blog (or on others, with the exception of 2) I can see the impact.

The first few posts got me thinking: there were references to things that I could occasionally see, to varying degrees, in myself. And I got thinking about what I refer to as the 'chameleon aspect' of my personality. I've never tried to explain this before so I'll probably get lost, but bare with me. The easiest example is with speech patterns and accents: I can pick them up and exchange them almost at the drop of a hat, sometimes by force of will, sometimes - it just happens. But it’s not only that. The ‘chameleon’ is a coping mechanism for me just as much as sarcasm and slightly off-beat humor are. That move to the US when I was little changed so much. I’m not even sure if current me would like the ‘me’ that might have developed had we stayed...

::philosophical discussion... perhaps if I pull another all-nighter::
 

I don’t know how to phrase this without people what people? thinking that that I’m not my own person. Even at the high-days of my 'chameleon period' I was always me. But bring a little girl into a country where she knows exactly eight words of the language spoken there, and two years later take her away and you get someone who feels like an outsider for years. I’ve never really lost that... As that kid I wanted to fit in. I wanted friends. A couple of times it came back to bite me in the ass (or as I’ll forever remember a 9 year old Rachael correcting me with a you-just-swore-by-me-child’s-blush: butt (with two T’s)). Wanting to fit in got me to learn a language. The thing is, that I got more by accepting that I was an outsider. That I had different interests and different likes (and loves) than my friends and not trying to make them fit in to what others were doing, "chameleonizing" shall we say. That got me to go with those likes, and to meet people who shared my views / interests, be it gymnastics, dirt-everywhere-girls-functioning-as-boys Israeli scouts, or the on-line reading/writing communities, etc.
 

Distractions around the house and I’ve lost my point twice in that pharagraph... Time to stop and take a deep breath.

(I’m getting back to my point, I swear) My grandparents have this plaque at their house which quotes the line from the story of the creation of man in the bible “It is not good that the man should be alone”.* I guess it got ingrained somehow, and by trying to find the similarities, or even copying the little things like the rhythm or accent in which people speak I try to be less “alone”.

Alone pops up a lot. It will even more if I ever get over that fear and sit to write The Darrakan.

But I am not ready yet. Not for the "alone" discussion nor for the Darrakan... *heavy sigh*

*This from a firm believer that Creationism is a belief too dumb to exist. But my love affair with the storybook which is the bible is years and years old.

On a final note, that is not connected to anything in this post but that I do want to send out there, if only because of frustration.

My knee pains are back. Not the normal kind, but the kind that make me see colored spots before my eyes and make me put aside my dislike to pills and all other pharmacy made medication if only so that I can walk. It’s been two years since the last bout stopped, and that one lasted for a year.

I’m terrified. And this time I don’t have the luxury of saying “I haven’t seen a specialist yet. I’ll go and he’ll fix it.” Because I did. And he found nothing

Whoever is listening: please…

It’s been a while since I’ve read fantasy that wasn’t by David Eddings. It’s not surprising actually, since like with everything else my interest, in everything, rises and wanes. But Eddings’ writing is beautiful. He was also one of the few could get me to react out loud to his words.

A few days (weeks?) ago, a friend named Dana gave me a trilogy by Lynn Flewelling. It’s well written even if I do have a few issues with the way the main character – Tobin, reacted to discovering that he is not a he, but actually a she, and the magic that keeps him looking male is the only thing that keeps him safe, and alive.

But I’m not here to do a book review.

My point was going to come to The Darrakan. That all encompassing epic that scares the sh*t out of me, and that I really want to go back to writing. But again, it scares me. I’ve worked with some of the characters for years. Heck, René is nine years old... Wow... nine... *blinks twice slowly*

Anyway, most of the others changed, either during the ime I wrote the first version, or when I noticed the discrepancies and decided I’ll do a rewrite. But I can’t get them out. And I’ve kept nurturing René over the years. She kept evolving with me in ways that previous leads never did. Well, one is lost to the naiveté of childhood (as I discovered when trying to revive her some years ago), another was a full on plagiarism-gone-wild, and a Mary-Sue to boot. But I was a third grader at the time, so it’s still ok. And Rachael, whose name I’ve shamelessly stolen and who was a template for quite a few characters throughout high school and the army when I was bored. I think I remember three of the template-cut-outs...

But I’ve digressed. Yet again...

How do you write something you have grown scared of?

I’m not afraid of the story. Heck, I don’t know exactly other than the grand-plotline, what the story is, but after having lived with René and Sellestte for so long. Sanding edges, picking up personality traits, likes, dislikes, sexual orientation (kinda... Sellestte is complicated) I’m not sure how I can write them keeping in mind that the reader doesn’t know all that I know and that there are things that I want to build, and others that I want to be understood from between the lines.

So thinking is in order. Plotlines; the other half of the story that does not directly tie to René and Sellestte until we near the end, the characters in there; How much of the Darrakan to open up? The story lost the focus on magic when I created the council. It’s the people, coming in, going out or living within this secret that is the tale; Most of all – how do I get past this fear?

But it’s too soon. I need to finish ‘Phantom’. I need to see whether or not I’m killing the other story since... well... it kinda sucks even in its good “days”. And then... then I need to see if I’m going to conquer my fears, or try another story (for which I have groundwork).

Perhaps a plot beta? I’ve never worked this way before... Maybe this is what I need?
Does anybody know someone willing to talk human interactions laced with a bit of magic with me?

Death seems to be a topic today. Not that it came up much, but compared to the usual - three times in a day is plenty.

It’s not that I fear death. I don’t think I ever had. My earliest memory is an out of body experience of me as a 3 / 4 year-old skipping through a grave-yard, happy because I was going to see my Father. Death is where my Father is. Or was… or whatever. I can barely figure out this life, so what happens after it is surely beyond me…

I had a full day today – a few hours spent with friends in Tel Aviv, then a train ride to the north for some time with the females of my family (at least, the ones that are in the country). Never go shopping when you can barely stand. I relearned that today. I will also be spending most of tomorrow in bed or with my legs elevated in other ways, so that maybe, hopefully, they won’t hurt come Friday.

Gadi drove us back, and while he (aided only a little bit by Mom) was reenacting the Vagina Monologues, Ofri fell asleep and I let my mind wander riding with it wherever it chose to go. I’m guessing I registered Or Akiva because Father came to mind. No, going to see him came to mind. And not going to see him alone, at that.

I was in tears, as in that ‘dream’ a friend told me that she wants to go with me to see him. So we went and I talked to him a bit. Also “introducing” her. I know it might strike some as odd, but to me – my Father was always - a headstone.

It will happen sometime. Hopefully because the other person will know what that means to me and ask and not because I will need to ask it of the person. Maybe that’s why, for all our closeness, I won’t take Na’ama there...

But that doesn’t matter right now. That situation is, more than probably, still a ways off.

When I started this place / blog / Lj account I figured that I'll be here primarily for the writing. So far, it's still true. But it's mostly other people's writing that keep me floating around (kasaiyoukai, wickedkiwi, I'm talking about you two ;) ). But that was a few years ago, and since then I "lost" my title as a student and regained that of an unemployed... person. Meaning – I have time on my hands now.
I've also grown tired of the multi-user-name existence that I've been living on-line and what I couldn't / wouldn't pay money to change just got linked to everywhere else. In other words – I'm easier to locate.

That brings me to my first change: this blog is going to turn into a 'friends mostly' account. I won't say friends only since there will be some posts that will remain visible to all, but the regularly updated stuff will be watched more closely. Not that I think traffic is going to increase to warrant the construction of a parking lot, but still.

My friending mentality though remains the same – if you friend me, I saw the email, and I'm not afraid of you – I'll more than likely friend you back.

The second change is to habits: for someone who used to, and wants to again, identify as a writer, I've written next to nothing for over six months. This is going to change. I've gone back to Phantom in the interest of closing the story and finally picking up the Darrakan again. Even if writing this novel scares the crap out of me. There's another fanfic that I'm playing with as well as an original that while I like the characters, I won't be able to write without a plot beta. So that one's on the back burner.
But there's also here, and when the muse that deals with plot won't come I think I'll try something here. I need the writing practice. I'm feeling all sorts of rusty.
One of the writers that I'm currently beta-ing for as promised me an autographed copy of her book. I look forward to that, since the story is good and her writing and characterization is... incredible, and fun, and I will be pimping the hell out of that book once it's out. But that will probably be in a while since we're on chapter 8. Speaking of autographed books – I got one! A friend named Liron and I went to Lizzy the Lezzy's book launch in Tel Aviv and came back  each with her own autographed copy. I like being able to say – I've talked with the author and she's fun. *blushes*

The final change comes from a post that kasaiyoukai made in her Lj yesterday regarding low self esteem. Now, I feel a bit scout-y doing this, but I'm going to post (what will hopefully be) a list of good things that I've done, as well as good things that have happened to me that day.
Hopefully, other than the smile factor when I'll go back and read the posts in the future this will help me get to the point of being able to look in the mirror and like most of what I see and not only some specific parts.

There are still a few things I want to say, but they belong to a different post...
Until I sit down to write it, you might find me on twitter.