elionwyr: (Default)

Phone: *ring*
Me: Yes?
Boss: I'm having trouble finding this item you wanted to order from Office Depot.
Boss: You wrote down 'desk ponies - 1 box assorted.'
Me: *giggle*
Boss: What exactly is that?
Me: Well. You know. I thought an assortment of full sized ponies would be too large for the office.
Boss: The number doesn't work.
Me: And full sized pony poop wouldn't be so easy to clean up. So. Desk ponies.
Boss: *silence*
Me: Um. So. Never mind on that order.

(...I'm really not sure she caught on.)

(OTOH, if I get fired for trying to order desk ponies, that shit is BRAGGING rights.)

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


Sep. 13th, 2012 03:41 pm
elionwyr: (Default)

We attended a class today on applying for visas for foreign scholars.

The instructor kept calling them aliens.

I kept wanting to hum the theme song to "Men in Black."

Then she started discussing visas for aliens with extraordinary abilities. And that nearly broke my coworker.

And then I started doodling..

And we started giggling.
And the instructor commented on us giggling.
And I said, "Sorry. I'm just being 12."
And the room got very quiet.
And we giggled even more.


Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (Default)

Me: Blood sugar was crashing. Getting food.
Me: Pumpkin milkshake FTW!
Bones: Awesome!
Me: Avoid carbs, right?
Bones: The milkshake kinda blew that... V:)
Me: D'oh.
Me: Mac and cheese it is!
Bones: facepalm
Me: :) Buffalo chicken Mac and cheese. You can probably hear my stomach screaming from there.
Bones: Oi. I'm positive that did more harm than good.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (Default)

So [livejournal.com profile] adelheid_p and her husband rescued me from frustration on Sunday and took me out to Brandywine Farm for Goat Day..which means a potluck lunch/dinner and playing with baby goats. Which is exactly what I needed.

Pics after the cut..

Read more... )

elionwyr: (barefoot)
This wasn't much on my radar today, until I saw a tweet from The Bloggess about Wil Wheaton posting about depression after she posted about depression/suicide, and so - la, here's my post on the subject.

So I struggle with depression. I'm pretty open about it, both in my virtual and physical lives. And sometimes it's over my family, and sometimes it's because of my anxiety - I apparently suffer from anxious depression, which is ever such lovely news - and sometimes I am depressed for no reason I can actually map out to anyone. Sometimes it's the startled realization that my body is exhibiting signs of depression or anxiety all by its lonesome and I wasn't catching on fast enough because I was too caught up in the noise in my head and life to notice.

A few times in my life, I have found myself hitting my mental/emotional fill line. And the only logical reaction is to contemplate suicide.

People say that's a selfish thought. I disagree - quite strongly, and with many colourful NSFW words - because what I hear in that sentiment is 'you're thinking about suicide and that will seriously screw up my life'..which may be true. But imagine you're back in school and you're running that fucking mile for gym class and really, you hit a point where this seems like the stupidest thing ever, you don't care about the clock or the task or the judgmental looks from the jocks..you start walking, and if you could, you'd just sit down and stop because you really really really don't give a damn about anything except not running anymore.

You've hit that fill line. You are DONE.

And that's pretty much what it's been like for me at those times.

What gets me through it? One person. It's always been pretty much one person. One person that answered the phone and gave me the gift of hours of talking. One person that wrapped his arms around me and quietly held me through the night. One person that wrote something on Facebook that hit me just right at just the right time.

None of them knew they were saving my life.

And so as this day of awareness ends, I think that's the message I really want to express..that you can save someone's life completely by accident. Just by caring.

Never underestimate the power of your words, the power of your random acts of kindness.

Jenny asked people to share what gets us through the dark days. Often, it's been my cat. Lurk deserves to be safe and fed, and the one time he saw Death, it freaked him the hell out...he howled for a week after Hades passed away. I won't do that to him.

She also asked that we share what music helps us. When I'm dealing with family crap, most of Poe's "Haunted" album does the trick (even if I do cry through parts of the songs). When I feel shaky, VNV Nation is my musical drug of choice..."Fearless" is a really good one, as is "Epicentre."

I'll leave you with "Fearless" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pi_bAtUBtTk - and the reminder that if you struggle with suicidal thoughts, or anxiety, or depression...you dazzling creature, you are not alone.

And it does get better.

And yeah, I thought that was bullpoop, too.
..It wasn't.


Sep. 6th, 2012 11:40 pm
elionwyr: (talking)

When I was a child, a chance encounter introduced me to a woman -Marian - that, in many ways, for a short time filled the need I had for a mother figure.

My brother followed me one day to see where I was finding sanctuary. I was very upset about this, and Marian tried to explain to him that we all need a place of our own.

I don't know if he ever found that place. For me, that sanctuary was precious..but it wasn't Family. Not really. I think Family became a Holy Grail of sorts for us both. He pursues it by being a chameleon - 'if I change into what you find acceptable, maybe you'll love/approve of me.' I pursue it by being awed by it and hoping - 'do you like who I am? can I stay?'*

What I've realized is that my being awed means I keep my distance. I find myself afraid of being a burden. And the path my brother walks is equally isolating in that he will sacrifice what and who he loves if it means acceptance.

We are not, of course, unique in our dysfuction. That is exactly as little comfort as one might imagine.

So. My family angst in music form. Someday I hope to get through either of these without crying.

"Haunted" - Poe
And I'm haunted / By the lives that I have loved / And actions I have hated / I'm haunted  / By the lives that wove the web / Inside my haunted  head

"Wild"- Poe 
I go wild 'cause you break me open / Wild 'cause you left me here

...Communication is NOT just words: communication 

Because of course it is quite obvious that a house 
Which would be built without
Would not look the
way your house looks today!

* And oh, yes, there is a special level of hell reserved for those who think 'family' is a game, a manipulation used to make people feel special so they can be used..and then 'catapulted' out of the 'family.'  Doesn't work that way. That's not a family.

elionwyr: (doit)

Prof: *carrying one of the huge piles of documents I printed/collated/stapled for her earlier* Hey, you missed a page.

Me: No.

Prof: No?

Me: No.

Prof: Yeah, you did.

Me: *checks file* No. NO. I don't understand, I - *looks at computer* What did you do? *looks at printer* Was it YOU? *looks at prof* I will have to beat these machines as soon as you leave.

Coworker: She can't help it. She's post menopausal.



We both start laughing..which means my loud obnoxious you-could-probably-hear-me-in-Ohio laugh.

Prof ran away.

....Yeeeeah. It was kinda like that all day.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


Aug. 17th, 2012 07:01 pm
elionwyr: (Default)

Though my eye doctor said I was on the border of needing bifocals, I find myself choosing to move my glasses to the top if my head whilst reading or playing on my phone. This means I spend good bits of time on the bus with no far vision.

It reminds me of when I was a child, refusing to wear my glasses and hoping it would force my vision to improve; of waking up ever hopeful that when I opened my eyes, the world would snap into focus.

It generally leaves me insecure, this feeling of not being able to see, and so it's odd that I am comfortable with my uncorrected nearsightedness now, in public, where I am vulnerable.

Age is weird.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (Default)

Bones paused by his computer. "You probably haven't seen this.." He looked at the screen, then looked at me. "John Floyd passed away. I think you knew him..?"

Yes. And it was my honour.

Floyd was a haunter and a videographer here on the east coast. I probably met him in Chicago somewhere around ten or twelve years ago..but he was one of those people that pop up in unexpected locations, so I can't really pinpoint when or where we actually met. By the time he filmed my first (and only) masquerade entry at Arisia in 2003 or so, we were already friends.

And that's how most of us got to know Floyd..somehow, it was because he was videotaping us at a haunt or a convention. He was infamous for taping something and saying, with complete enthusiasm, "That was great! Do it again!" And you did it, and you didn't mind, because Floyd was always such a positive force.

He would drive from New England to western PA, to our house that was never locked. Sometimes the first inkling I had that he was in town was that I'd stumble into the kitchen in the morning and find him carefully scrubbing my landlady's kitchen floor. He always insisted on doing some sort of housework for her in exchange for the use of an air mattress on the floor of her sewing room.

And he'd film for a night or two at the haunt, and then get back on the road to New England by the end of the weekend. His arrival gave us a bit of new energy, and it was always a little sad when we realized he was already gone for the season.

He would have been a marvelous Grisly. His humour was, in my experience, as sweet and as innocent as one would expect from a Grisly. He pretended to speak Chinese so believably that it took someone else commenting on his joke for me to realize he did not, in fact, know a single word of that language . ([livejournal.com profile] janusaries, you may now point and laugh.)

He was perfectly willing to put on a dress and stand in a window of the Lizzy Borden house, posing with an axe, so that a fellow haunter could draw attention to him from the street so they could tape people's reactions.
His response to a particularly embarrassing belch from me one night was to say, without missing a beat, "I will MARRY you!" One friend has commented to me that half of the laughs he remembers have one common denominator..and that's Floyd.

In January, I was told Floyd had lung cancer. He lived a healthy life, making the diagnosis bitterly unfair. Treatment left him with a high wispy voice, but by April he was starting to poke fun at his condition. He visited a haunt in Salem and posed next to one of the skeletal props, asking which of them looked worse.

And that's pretty typical of Floyd.

It is surreal, and impossible, to believe that I won't see John Floyd at some random event in the near future. He was, simply put, one of the sweetest haunters I've ever known...and I'm pretty sure he's thinking up some ridiculous way of making his presence known from whatever afterlife he's videotaping from right now.

He will be missed.

9/10/60 - 8/12/12

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Obituary here: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/bostonglobe/obituary.aspx?n=john-elton-floyd&pid=159162274&fhid=15463#fbLoggedOut (text after the cut, because stuff on this website isn't always available for free after a certain point) Read more... )
elionwyr: (Default)

When I was in high school, I very much wanted to be on stage crew. I was never comfortable performing on stage, but helping a production happen? That's what held my interest.

That's never changed. And that means that most people have never seen the work I do. At least, not on a conscious level. And so it's not uncommon for people to say to me, "Wow, you do a lot!" when they try to help...because they never thought to consider how all the background work gets done.

I just attended a house concert, for example, that happened because of me..and only one other person in the room knew. That one person was not the performer. And that's ok with me. What is important is that a successful show happened.

I'm not unique in this. Anyone who has worked on a con, or a theatrical show, or an event, knows this feeling of invisibility.

So when I see someone that has to self promote their behind he scenes work, it grates on me. A lot.

If you create a poster for an event and you want to say, hey, I made this, that's fine. I like knowing the face behind the work.

If you do so and say hey, I do good work, you come across as insecure and unprofessional and I am less interested in the event.

If you feel the need to promote yourself over the thing you're promoting? You're doing it wrong.

And if you need so badly to self promote while blocking the promotion of artists or others that for whatever reason don't rate in your book? You're very much doing it wrong.

And now I need to go defriend the person that's inspired this post, because I really am tired of her constant self promotion.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (delighted)
Just over a week ago, I walked into my room to find my lover reclining on my bed.

I paused, and I made small talk; I fussed over his comfort; and as I stretched out beside him, a hidden part of my brain was chittering in amazement.

Because it seems impossible, that he could be here, in my home, in my bed, filling the space that was so empty when I mourned the failure of the start of our relationship, when I thought this was impossible, when I only knew a fraction of the entirety I was losing.

And that tiny part of my brain remembers, every time I touch him, that this almost didn't happen...
elionwyr: (Default)

Last night, Bones and I slept in a tent in his patents' backyard. Under a tree and with the lake in the near distance, it was quite lovely. The temperature had dropped off, there was a nice breeze, there were even some unexpected stars after what had been a pretty cloudy afternoon/evening.

As we dozed off, he commented that one of our open window flaps was facing east. "So we're going to get a lot of morning sun," he sighed.

And yes, the gentle approach of dawn awakened me. But what was more intrusive was this odd sort of bird trilling outside and above the tent.

I finally caught a glimpse of the singer: a squirrel, hanging upside down off the tree trunk, flicking his tail and having a rather lot to say.

It wasn't angry squirrel squawking. So we guessed he was saying, "Hey! Hey! Hey you in the tent! Whatcha doing? Huh? Huh? See that sunrise? You're missing it! You're missing it! Got any food? Maybe some nuts? You should get up! Hey! Hey!"

I giggled, and snuggled up next to Bones.

Even without coffee, it was rather a perfect morning.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (Default)

I've been having problems with my back in the morning, so Bones has been adjusting me.

I trust him. Completely. But I always, I'm, overreact when he adjusts my neck.

I'd hoped this was something that had gone largely unnoticed by others.


This morning, as I was lying on his chiropractor bench and trying to relax, his brother-in-law saw us.

"Uh-oh. Listen for the scream.."

"Shut up! I don't always.. AUGH!"


Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (eat them)

Bones' cat caught another chipmunk, was parading through the house with it, and had reached the bedroom.

Max: (muffled by chipmunk) MROW! MROW! MROW! MROW!
Bones: Really? Another chipmunk?
Bones: No..no no, NOT in my closet!

I opened one eye and saw Max weaving around the room, Bones following close behind.


They shuffled out of the room, Bones closing doors to prevent Max from caching the chipmunk in unsanctioned spaces.

I giggled.

It was the oddest Fourth of July parade I've ever seen.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

ETA: Me: I blogged about you and Max.
Bones: Why? Anyone with a cat has had that experience?

I handed him my phone.

Bones: ..Oh. But you need to add what happened next.
Bones: I accidentally closed the bathroom door with Max and his chipmunk inside.
Me: ..Oh.
Bones: By the time I realized it, there was just a blood smear and the chipmunk hindquarters left.
Me: And Max saying, "DUDE! I had no IDEA how long I'd be in there! I could have STARVED!!"
Bones: "..But I saved you some! Just in case!"
elionwyr: (Default)

"Who are you?"

I swallowed my shyness and smiled at the stranger sitting beside me at the campfire. "My name is Dusti."

"I'm sorry. I might have met you before, but I've had four strokes and I don't remember faces sometimes."

"No. No, I don't think we've met before. Hi!"

He gave me his name and a bit of his history. He described how he had to relearn communication - he knew the words but he couldn't say them. "It was like being in a prison."

"My uncle went through that. It must be incredibly frustrating."

"I'm better than I was a few weeks ago. And the VA's been real good to me."

"Have they?"

"Well, I won't go to the local one. Buffalo has a good one.". And as he talked, I thought about all the horror stories I've heard over the years, from my friend Eric who came back from Desert Storm with a sickness the VA refused to take seriously to the ongoing enraging problems [livejournal.com profile] ginmar has documented.

I'm not pro war. Honestly, I'm no longer certain anyone's really at their core heart pro war. But the steady reminder of how this country doesn't do its across-the-board best for those who come back from being in the armed services injured in such a bewildering variety of ways....it should be impossible. It should be the exception. And yet here I was, sitting in the darkness, glad to hear that this one veteran's experience was the apparent exception.

I have no idea how it changes.

I only know that it must.

..And I know how naive that sounds..

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

elionwyr: (bang)
Originally posted at http://omnisti.livejournal.com/19805.html:


Hello, my friends. I got a gentle reminder to post this to LJ, since not everyone is on FB...

Our little music collective has applied for a $250,000 grant, and you can help us qualify for it.

I just need 250 votes in the system at http://missionsmallbusiness.com" to get into the running, but I think a few extra votes would show them just how much this could affect our little Touring Music Collective ( Sj Tucker, Heather Dale, Alexander James Adams, Marian Call, Wendy Rule, Tricky Pixie, GB Mojo, The Traveling Fates, and maybe a little help for Frenchy and the Punk.) Like, vote, then share this link, spread the word.

How do you vote for us? Go to http://missionsmallbusiness.com and log in with a facebook account, then search for "Touring Music" in the "Business Name" field. You shouldn't need a city or state, but I used our office address in Redmond, Washington as the base location. That might help if it doesn't come up with a basic search for some reason.

If you don't have a facebook account, you can help spread the word by asking friends and family to vote on your behalf.

All votes must be in by June 30th. That's only a few days away.

(As of this posting, they're at 233 votes! GO MAKE MAGIC HAPPEN!!)
elionwyr: (yesh)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] kylecassidy at And so it begins
The Philadelphia Weekly has a cover story on War Paint this week which includes six pages of photos and text from the book. I'm very happy about this. I've been living with War Paint for four years now in one state or another and now it's like the long journey is over. I'm grateful to the people at the Philadelphia Weekly for this, for my editor and the people at Schiffer Publishing who believed in this, and, most of all, to the men and women who shared their stories with me, painful as it sometimes was for them. It's been a long road.

This is Tom Murtha, a veteran of both the Korean and Vietnam wars. He served in the Navy and the Marine Corps and was awarded a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He's still very involved in veterans groups today, making sure that men and women coming home from overseas know that someone appreciates what they've been through.

Click to read the story on PW

It was some time in 2006 when I first got the idea for War Paint. I had just finished up Armed America and I was looking for something else to do -- that book had taken up two years of my life and the prospect of suddenly doing ... nothing was unimaginable. I photographed my first veterans tattoo in March of 2007 and it proceeded slowly from there. After a few months I was also working on Where I Write, photographing Fantasy and Science Fiction writers desks, and then I did Who Killed Amanda Palmer and a whole bunch of other things like American Rocker, what I thought might turn into a book about rocking chairs (and still might) and then Leaving Dakota and the amazing project I did with Elizabeth Bear Veronique is Visiting from Paris and the Inappropriate Tale for Unusual Children Bunny Named Swine and a lot of other stuff -- there was so much going on, but I kept at War Paint because I knew that it was important and it was alive inside of me. And the project ground slowly and in 2010 Schiffer Publishers picked it up, realizing that it need to be a thing that people could pick up and hold and touch. And now it's out. A box of books and a bottle of wine showed up from my publisher today the same day I saw the layout of the Philadelphia Weekly story and I couldn't be happier.

Back in 2007 with WWII vets in St. Louis. It seems like a lifetime ago.

Click to enlarge

Add me: [LiveJournal] [Facebook] [Twitter] [Google+] [Tumblr]
[Roller Derby Portraits]
elionwyr: (tada)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] ms_danson at About this Blog

"My LJ is my online house. If someone knocks on the door they are most likely to find me at home here. I welcome visitors that aren't trying to sell me something. Some visitors I invite inside, some I don't. My choice.

My house has a fenced yard with a large and varied garden that I maintain. I enjoy gardening and like planting new flowers to see how they will grow. The gate is open so that anyone can lounge on the lawn, examine the garden, or even plant something at the edge of the beds. People visiting my garden are welcome to take pictures and introduce others to it.

My house, like my fence, has a door. Unlike the gate, this door is closed. Guests knock or are invited in. Friends have keys. Inside my house there are many rooms. On the ground floor there is a library, a fireplace lounge, a dining room, and a kitchen, all connected by open archways. Any who have entered through the door are welcome to read, cook, chat, eat, admire the art, or pet the cats.

Up the stairs there is a hallway of closed doors that those who party below may not open unless invited. These are reserved for individual keys and the locks may change, as if managed by mischievous gremlins. The cats enter and leave at will, because they are cats.

There are some that say, "All that can be seen is public", but this is not so. There are some that say, "Doors are an outrage and fences immoral", but this is not so. This is my home and I maintain it. The fences and doors keep the health of the whole. Those placed outside the house may still play in the garden. Those placed outside the fence may still look at the garden even if they are no longer able to rip up flowers or piss on the carpet.

I seek to be a good host and a good gardener. I entertain, feed, plant, weed, and bounce. The party guests change as the party does. The garden grows, welcomes the next season, and remembers the last. This is a shared endeavour and a living project."
elionwyr: (yesh)
For those of you amazing people that chipped in to help Annabelle...here are some updates.



January 2013

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