Well, I had a wonderful lunch date with my friend from the support group site, and noticed several things. First, when I arrived, I did not have much hesitation, but simply thought, "I have as much right to go and have lunch as any other woman does" and went in.

The lunch itself was nice, especially when a little old lady noticed my wallet had fallen out, and pointed it out to me, telling me to tuck it better in my purse, like there was nothing strange about me at all.

I wanted to share a letter I have written to my brother.

Dear Mike:

Well, I had planned to talk about my stories again, but I am not up to it. The only story I have in my head is a very angry one, and I am not sure if that one is a good idea. Mostly, I am wondering the wisdom of spending a day or more in the ER. I simply cannot find a way out of this box, and the prospect of having to spend the rest of my life like this is becoming just about intolerable. The big reason why I haven't is the simple fact they cannot help me. I am the only one who can make the plunge ahead, regardless of cost, or not.

Well, after several days of feeling fragile, I now feel like I am back on solid ground. Which is a good thing, because I think things are going to get tough around here. Between my job and my mom's job both being insecure, and all the internal stuff i am dealing with, I need to be thinking as clearly as possible. Meanwhile, my GF is feeling better too, and that's a relief.

Well, I am basically trying to hold on until my Dr.'s appointment on January 28. I don't really want to need to call in before then, but it's touch and go whether I am going to make it or not. It makes me wonder why I have such trouble asking for help. I think it is because of of my rapist being a doctor, but i am not sure. I dont even know why i am feeling so fragile right now. Is it the meds, dealing with flashbacks, my gender struggle, or maybe all three at once?

Well, my muse has made her call, and my "wild card" story drew the short straw, and i have begun the writing for it. To (hopefully) whet the appetite of my five fans (I am kidding, there might be ten of you), i will give you a quick little link to some info on the series:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Cards

My story takes place in 1989, just after George H.W. Bush is elected president in the U.S.

Well, welcome to a new year, and a new decade. I havent done a lot of writing since finishing part 3 of "the lucky one". but i am less panicked about that than i would have been before. i have my "wild card" story to work on, a couple of ret-con ideas, sequels to a couple of my earlier stories, and my first and probably only attempt at a SRU story, and that's not counting having to try to write my way out of the box i put myself in for the conclusion of "The lucky one".

Well, it looks like things at work are headed for the crapper in a hurry. As of next week, I will be lucky to get one day a week. I am feeling a little hurt by this, as you can imagine. Thanks to my commitments to my daughter, i may have great trouble finding another job, and without my income, and especially since my mom's job is also insecure, we may end up having to make some hard choices about where we live, and what we can do without. The worst part is, i felt like i had finally found a job i could maybe transition at, only to have it pulled out from under me. Sigh.

Well, as it turned out, i didn't lose my stuff. Thanks to my friend, who is the bestest techie ever, I am back in business, and she even got my stories back. expect more silliness from "The Lucky One" soon!

well, last night my computer crashed, and i have now lost everything i have ever written. for the stories that are here, that is at least recoverable, but i will have to start over all the ones i was working on, as i had no back up. It hurts like crazy, but its just one more bump along the road, right?

well, the latest piece i produced was by far both the easiest and the hardest. The hardest, because it is NASTY. Despite having no sex, no violence, and no swear words, it is a very, very, hard read. I was a wreck this morning, cried until i could produce no more tears, and then went to work feeling like i was on the brink. Halfway though my shift, this piece started coming, and when i got home, i just had to write it out and exorcise my demons that way. And that's why it was also the easiest to write, it just flowed so fast, i had it done in under 2 hours.

Over the last week or so, i have been struggling in various degrees with bouts of anger. It feels like when i havent wanted to curl up and cry i have wanted to shout or even hit something. A friend of mine has suggested that this might mean things are coming to a head inside me, and i will have to make a choice of letting Dorothy out, or losing it. And since the barriers to doing the former remain, I feel like i have been backed into a corner with no way out. The only place i feel human is online where i can just be me without those costs. Real life sucks.

Well, today was one of those "mixed bag" days. First, the bad. I tore my pants to pieces working in the back, no fun. The good: my supervisor actually bought me a new pair, so that was nice. the frightening? Well, while trying to describe how i managed to destroy my pants, I found i could not come up with the words "screwdriver" and "furniture" for several minutes. For a person who depends on words as much as I do, that is very scary.

Well, I managed to frighten myself at work yesterday. For those of you who are squeamish, you might consider not reading the rest of this entry

I am fighting a serious temptation right now. To put it in simple terms, I want to give up, to surrender. I am not talking about killing myself, but just shut down again, like i did as a kid. I have even considered finding a dom/domme and just be a slave, so I dont have to think or feel anything again. I will resist it, but i could use help, and prayers

I would like to talk about my last two pieces together, because the one led to the other. I started working on "tears of the phoenix" because I was struggling with flashes of attraction toward men, and it was scaring me. As I had jean say, I felt like i was losing the last part of my male self, and i didnt want to. This struggle formed the first half of the story. At the same time, I was struggling with grief over Misty's "Out of the Ashes". I really hurt when Dolores died, and i wanted to say something about how her death affected me.

Well, apparently, my last piece was a dud. As the saying goes, even Babe Ruth struck out more times than he hit home runs, and i am most definitely NOT the Babe Ruth of writing. But the experiance has taught me a lesson. I am a pretty needy girl when it comes to my work. I thrive on praise, and wither without it. But i think i need to change that if i am going to keep writing. Still, I hope at least some of the time i hit a "home run"....