imarci: (wolf moon)

Started a fire mage last night, and surprisingly, I have really been enjoying it. Granted she’s only level 22, but still … it was fun! 88 more levels to go! The guild I joined has every main spec except a Mage since their full-time mage decided to swap mid-expansion because a lot of changes were made to Mages he didn’t like much. So, I offered to level one in case they want it for the next expansion, but I am HOPING … I do well on the Paladin… well enough that they would want me to stick with the Paly since she’s been my main for a really long time and I know how to play her really well.

Mages… eh. I haven’t played a maxed level one, well, ever. It’s why I’m going to take my time leveling her so I really get to know her ins-outs and try to become some sort of expert on them quick. It’s clear fire mages are VERY dependent on procs. When I got them back to back she owned the meters, but if one never popped, I did about the same dps as others my level. So, that will play a lot into the overall damage output. Plus, end-game, people have said they are VERY gear dependent, and I won’t get good gear unless I actually do raid on her. Blarg.

I hate politics. Now that trump is in office, I hate them even more. I cannot stand what that poor excuse for a man has turned this country into. Everywhere I turn, so much hatred (on both sides) … I can’t go on Facebook, or Twitter or even watch the news anymore because rage fills me with all the disgusting crap he does and how he even has ONE supporter, never mind a 32% approval rating boggles my mind to no end. WHO are these 32% and WERE you dropped on your heads as children where all logic, human decency and intelligence has escaped it??

Most of the world already disliked America before all of this, but now, not only are we an utter joke, most of the world legit HATES us. I just wish most of the universe realized that a LOT of us do NOT support the bag of filth, and wish he would do us all a favor (himself included, since he loves doing things for himself and no one else), and just RESIGN. I am so embarrassed for our future … when they look back on this moment and him, and wonder what every sane American is now wondering … HOW THE FUCK DID HE BECOME PRESIDENT?! And why did it take SO LONG to get him out of office!

UGH. Anyway. Just made myself a cup of coffee and I am going to enjoy it fully. I’ll be taking lunch soon. I like to go late because then I only have 1.5-2 hours left of the day and it just feels faster. Whenever I have to go early (for work stuff), the afternoon drags SO BAD. Lol.

It was nice to see my other work friend Shanell today. She’s one of the professors so she usually only comes in when she has to teach or comes to meet with students OR is forced into a meeting. Today she had a meeting but came early enough for us all to chat a bit, so that was nice. I think we’re going to all try to get together during our week-long break from work and have breakfast. Last time we all hung out was at Sheryl’s house for lunch and that was about three months ago. So we’re do for a hang out.

Tonight I have to sit around and write holiday cards. I finally got them in the mail yesterday, but by the time I realized it, I was hardcore into a game of Warcraft, so I put it off. I figure I’ll write the long distance ones tonight so they go out tomorrow, and then I’ll write the local ones this weekend and send them out on Monday.

ALL the stuff I bought for gifts arrived yesterday too, so our kitchen looks like a war-zone. I have to go through all the boxes and pile gifts together for their respective recipient. Bleh!

Other news ... mom's been doing well. I am amazed by her all the time. Of course, like all of us, she has bad days, but deep down she’s been good. I honestly feel like she handled my dad’s passing a LOT better than I did. She was his closest confidant, and where he wouldn’t complain to us kids about his pain and suffering, I’m almost sure he did to my mom. She knew the deepest darkest of what he felt, and I think she’s just thankful he’s no longer suffering, even if we are with his loss.

It’s so crazy how some days I’m doing fine, and then the smallest thing will ignite a fragment of a memory, and I tug on the thread, pulling it closer to the forefront, and something like ice cream on a random commercial suddenly has me remembering a story of how my father went for four different stores because it was my birthday and he couldn’t find the ice cream cake I liked the most (knowing full well ANY would have done for me) … and that gets me balling my eyes out for 2 hours. It’s just … crazy. I love that man so damn much and each day it’s a struggle knowing he’s not here … it really is. I just try to pretend I’ll see him soon, he’s just on a vacation, but we’ll met up eventually, but that doesn’t always work for me.

I miss you so damn much, pops. <3

imarci: (miss you)

On December 13th Geminid Meteor showers are totally happening. I always miss these in our neck of the woods because it is always cloudy. I really hope that’s not the case this year. Not that I have a nice enough camera to capture the beauty, but I’d like to witness at least one in my lifetime. It’s supposed to be quite the show this year too … *fingers crossed*.

Why is it that every mentally deranged person that has escaped the asylum comes to work here? I swear everyone around me (except Lorraine), needs to be on strong medication. I cannot take the Jekyll and Hyde routines 24/7. I feel like I’m going to have a stroke from all the rage these people induce in me. I seriously need to find a way to cope with this anger (it’s going on my resolutions list actually) .. sigh. If anyone stumbles across this journal and has sage advice, I’m all ears.

We’re supposed to get our first ‘real’ snow this weekend. We got a few flurries in late October, but nothing that stuck. This weekend they’re claiming 2-4 inches. Still nothing to cause any major issues, but it’s enough to make things a little Christmas-y.

I miss the young innocence that surrounded the holiday. The waiting ALL year to get what we wanted. I think that’s what made it so much more enjoyable. Now, if we want something, we all just buy it right there and then. I think that is what has torn away the joy of Christmas. To me now, it’s just another day we all chill out, and while I love spending time with the family, there’s no longer that “Omg can’t wait until morning to sip eggnog and watch everyone open their gifts” feeling. I miss that feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever recapture it (and not just because it’s forever blackened by the loss of a bright soul).

As we near the 25th, it’s so weird how the pang in my heart increases. It should always feel this way, right? I just miss him so damn much and these days while everyone is singing or humming happy tunes, I’m in this bah humbug stage. I am trying so hard though to get in the spirit, mostly because my dad really DID love Christmas. We used to build this huge Christmas village under our Christmas tree every year and dad would sit there for hours, just admiring it and I miss that. I miss seeing him hanging out on the couch, his eyes so focused on the beauty of the village, his mind a million miles away and peace and calm on his face. I miss his smile… GOD how I miss his smile so much. I have this small photo of him hanging from my rearview mirror and he’s sporting his famous smile and I guess that is why I ALWAYS cry when Im driving. That, and the fact that I’m usually alone when I’m driving. I don’t like to cry in front of others so I bottle so much up, but in the car… it’s just me … and his memory. Just us. Alone. And it tears me up almost every day.

Here’s a picture of it <3

2017-12-08_10-42-30


Okay, I need to breathe and calm down. Switching topics. Actually, I had to go look and see when the last time we did the village where I took photos and it was 2011. Seems a lifetime ago. Here are the photos if anyone out there is interested. I really do miss it. It feels like this is what the rest of my life is going to be like … constantly living in a state of ‘missing’ …

One for the road …
DSC_0185







imarci: (WoW1)

So I am plotting away at a new book idea. I’ve detailed twenty chapters so far. I already have the ending planned out, but I need to figure out the middle-ish part. I want this book to feel familiar for the genre but also be very unique in its own way. Finding that balance with my ‘perfectionist’ mentality is hard. I know things will become clearer when I actually start writing (and some things will change), but I am enjoying the ideas I have for it so far.

I just hope I can stick with this. I have 5 book drafts in my two notebooks and I have felt this way about at least two of them and then never worked on them. Maybe I can fool myself into thinking that having 5 book ideas is actually good so that when I finally write one/publish it, I have 5 ready to be worked on … but I know myself well enough to not be fooled.

I should just do it for my pops, to honor him in some way, but even that doesn’t push me to succeed. I suck.

Speaking of my pops. I have to preface with… I swear I am not crazy.

The other day I was getting ready for work and I heard my name. It sounded like someone was saying it through a bubble. It was kind of warped sounding. It was coming from the kitchen so I slowly walked toward it and I heard it again and I swear to whatever is holy, it sounded just like my dad. My heart froze, I froze … everything froze. I tried to listen so hard and finally called out, “Daddy?” I didn’t hear it again, but I swear this sense of peace came over me because deep down inside I knew it had been him … I just knew it. I told him I loved him and then went back to getting ready for work.

It was so surreal and maybe I was sleepwalking, and maybe deep down I want to believe this bad enough, but I swear … it was him. Is it so awful that I want to talk to my dad so badly? I miss his voice. I miss his laugh. I miss everything about him. It kills me sometimes, knowing he’s gone. I think 90% of the time I live in a state of denial because whenever I am back to reality it just hurts so damn much. Yet I know living in denial isn’t healthy either … but it’s saving me from daily meltdowns.

Sigh.

I finished another book. I’ve been so disappointed in my selections lately. I am trying to catch up on my old books from 2012 onward that I bought back in the day, so I have a lot of books that were ‘free’. Many are good but some.. ugh. I just can’t get through them. I tried 4 books in the last two days before I finally forced myself to read this one all the way through. I actually like her as an author and have loved her other series’ … but this book SUCKED. I really hope whatever I read next is decent. Tired of hitting all these duds recently, especially since I finally upped my books-to-read count for the year, and I read 100 pages in each book and then have to give up (wasting time!).

Amway. Review below.

I am so glad today is Friday and other than lunch at the sis-in-law’s/bro’s house with the family on Sunday… I have zilch planned and that’s what I like. I might actually play some World of Warcraft. It’ll be my first time in over two weeks, which for me is a LONG break from the game. I guess I am finally getting tired of this expansion. That … and I never get anything good. Doesn’t help I follow people on Twitter who are always getting rare mounts/pets and I sit here like … “Look! I got a slightly less crappy piece of gear—yay me!” Gah. The RNG on that game blows because I have zero luck… in everything.

Beckoning Light (The Afterglow Trilogy, #1)Beckoning Light by Alyssa Rose Ivy

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I've read other books by Alyssa that I've loved, but I couldn't get into this one that much. It all felt strained, which really bummed me because I loved her other books. I wonder if this was one of her first works.

Pros
Sadly not too many. Again, was really disappointed ):

Cons
-The MC, Charlotte wasn't well developed. I felt zero connection to her. She just kind of existed throughout the whole book with a lot of smirks, eye rolls and not much of 'substance' to her. I really didn't care if she lived or died and that kind of sucks.
-The dialogue in this book was rather on the weak side. It felt mundane, repetitive and forced 90% of the time. Which sucks cuz I've laughed/loved/cried/hated, etc. with her other books.
-I just didn't connect with any of the characters. None. And that James dude was a creeper/douche from the beginning but not even good at it ... All he did was say everything with a smirk, push himself on her all the time and just ground my gears. That was annoying. Not surprising he's a dbag in the 'other world' too.
-The insta-attraction/love/lets get married to Calvin. Man I really wish authors would stop doing this. Ugh. So lame lol.

It gets 2 stars because Monty and Liam were 'okay' characters and the MC wasn't a total whiny bish (though she was dead as a doornail in every other way). I definitely recommend her OTHER books though. They are amazeballs.






View all my reviews

imarci: (Default)

I have always loved writing. It is innate in me. I have always had a passion for words. I may not use big words like our president, but my passion for writing has been lifelong.

Until about ten years ago. Something happened. I don’t even know what. Maybe it was the very first death I ever had to try and survive.

My godfather was a wonderful man. He never had a harsh word to say. He always had a smile. He worked so very hard, his entire life and then one day at 45 years old, he suffered a stroke.

He survived the stroke, but not completely his old self. He lost some vision in one of his eyes, which made it difficult for him to drive and do the job he’d been doing the last twenty-five years of his life. He became broken. He became desolate. He became a completely different man from the one I knew my entire life.

Yet he continued to smile. He continued to try to get up each day and go to work to support his wife and three children. We knew it was all just something that he would have to work through and we tried SO hard to support him. To show him how much we loved him, but sometimes … sometimes love isn’t enough to pull us away from our demos. The demons that haunt and torture is every waking and sleeping hour and nothing can get through their grip on our souls. Not even love.

The day I got the call that he was dead, I … I can’t even describe it. It was a Saturday. I’d been at my job for two years and NEVER had worked a Saturday before, but that day I had. It was almost like a divine intervention that prevented me from being home, because if I had been home, I would have gotten the call and not my father.

My father got it. My godfather’s 7-year-old daughter called our house, crying that her daddy was asleep and she couldn’t wake him up. If someone could go there to help her. My father rushed over, confused and worried.

When he got to their house and she was waiting at the door, tears streaking her face, he knew something was off. He just knew. When he got down to their basement and saw his lifeless body lying on the floor … he knew. The cold rushed to him, he almost fell down the stairs. He saw the rope still around his neck and turned to the frightened child and asked her what happened.

She had cut her father down. Not truly grasping what was actually happening, but somehow knowing deep down. What that child had to see that day, what my father had to see… I cannot fathom. I cannot put into words what that experience was like for either of them, and I hope I never in my lifetime ever have to.

I was called an hour later after the police had come and then the ambulance to take him away. So I never saw him like that. I still have his beautiful smile on my mind, his beautiful face, his laugh … everything in my memories of him are beautiful and it breaks my heart to know my dad lived with this other vision of him… this vision I cannot and do not want to imagine.

One would think THAT is when I would turn to writing. That I would escape into it and explore the rollercoaster of emotional warfare this death caused on my heart and soul. It wasn’t. I turned away from it. I broke completely away from blogging and never returned.

Ive tried a few times over the years, and just never found it ‘right’.

Then my own beautiful and wonderful and amazing and cherished father passed away a little over a year ago. A death, I never in a million years imagined coming so soon.

He was only 63. Way too young to pass away … but cancer is a disastrous machine that has no bigotry or prejudices… it picks at random and turns lives upside down like its a game to it. Cancer is evil incarnate, right behind the demons that would push someone to commit suicide and tear apart the lives of every person that has ever loved them.

The loss of my father brought me back briefly to writing. I wrote privately, dissecting the emotional turmoil one day and absolute (and confusing/guilt-inducing) numbness the second. My emotions were the same and yet different from when I lost my Godfather. There was no shock behind my dad’s death because I watched him dying day by day as cancer consumed him from the inside out. I grieved EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE DAYS. Every chemo session I went with him. Every half-smile he tried to give us because it was all the strength he had, to try to reassure US. Every word he spoke that I tried to memorize and knew I never would, leaving a broken hole of despair inside of me every single day I watched him crumble and slowly slip away.

I love my father with every breath I have ever taken and continue to take. He was my center. My soul. My heart. He was everything I am. He is the man that every man has to match up and every man has fallen short of. His loss has ripped me to shreds and I have spent the last year and few months trying to piece myself back together.

Each day can go either way. It can feel a little easier to breathe. It can feel a little easier to get up. It can feel a little easier to remember him and not fall completely apart to a sobbing mess of a girl I once was. Those are days that the pain lessens just a little more but still everpresent.

OR it can be the complete opposite. It can be like I am right back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed and holding his hand, watching with overwhelming pain and excruciating torture as he takes his last and final breath and the instant trigger of being lost, confused, angry, and GUILTY that he is no longer suffering and is in a better place … all rolled up into this fist that keeps punching me in the chest and making it so hard to breathe … so hard to see… so hard to LIVE without him.

Any day …. can be either one of those days, and living like this can be so hard. People look at me and see a smile. A smile that hides so much pain. A smile that is trying so hard to move forward because that is what he would want. He would want me to be happy. He worked SO DAMN HARD his entire life so I COULD be happy. I know this. It’s why the good days are getting a little more and more in between the bad days. It’s why I can see his picture now and totally break down. It’s why I can laugh with friends and not have that gutwrenching and soul-punching guild overriding every laugh. It’s why I know it’s still okay to cry too and grieve him still. EVERYTHING is still okay.

I know deep inside my heart he is watching us. I know he is crying when we cry, and I dont want that. He has suffered WAY MORE than any human ever should and he never deserved one fucking second of it.

He is, and always will be, the center of my life. My soul. My heart. He never will be forgotten. I will carry him with me always. But some days … some days are just so damn fucking hard

January 2020

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