(Source: wilwheaton)
May 25, 2012
May 21, 2012
"What an astonishing thing a book is. It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic."
— CARL SAGAN (via Advice to Writers)
(Source: kadrey, via wilwheaton)
May 16, 2012
NEW BLOG: Classic Dating Don’ts (that are actually Do’s). Dating advice that doesn’t suck, make you boring, encourage you to lie OR rely on outdated sexual mores.
May 16, 2012
Writers' Routines: Semi-Late Bloomer: Alice Munro
Alice Munro, a perennial contender for the Nobel Prize. Generally regarded as one of the world’s foremost writers of fiction. Her reputation as a short-story writer is international. As Cynthia Ozick put it, “our Chekhov.” -wikipedia
Alice Munro never meant to be a short-story writer. She’d aimed…
(Source: The Atlantic)
May 8, 2012
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012
May 1, 2012
Even optimists get the blues
I know you remember that a few moons ago I posted a series about “Reanimating The Warrior Goddess.” Complete with a Dwarfercise how-to. Well, as it turns out, I totally dropped the battle axe on that project. I know it’s hard to believe that I of all people got distracted and gave up. (We really need a sarcasm font to highlight that last sentence.)
The truth is, I have become more than slug-like. I am a ticking time bomb waiting for some sort of cardiac event or stroke. The realization hit last week when walking less than a block made me feel as if my chest may just collapse in on itself. It isn’t just about aesthetics, it’s about me not becoming one of the statistics that I treat as a nurse. Of all people, I should know better. I have been studying fitness, health, and nutrition since I was 16 years old. I was once a personal trainer, an aerobics instructor, a healthclub manager. I know how to do what I need to do. I know how to plan what I need to do. I just haven’t been able to do it. Maybe it’s because of extrinsic factors such as my job, a few injuries obtained in the past few years, or stress. But the real issue has been a full on battle with depression. So I have enlisted the help of a Physician Assisted Weight Loss program. In order to have my health issues addressed while on this road to recovery. This, people, is a big deal for me. I have made a decision that contradicts my pride. I have no choice but full disclosure, to the physician I am working with, and to myself. I can no longer lie to myself about the state of my body. I am dangerously unhealthy as a result of my weight. I know how many times I have stated that I am a proud fat woman. And I am. I do love my curves. But my situation isn’t about what I look like on the outside. It is about the damage happening on the inside. My goal weight is nowhere near what the textbooks say is my ideal weight for my height. Honestly, I think I’d look sick at that weight. I like having curves, I like having muscle. My only goal in this endeavor is to lower my risk of becoming like one of my patients before I even turn 40. This is the reality of my situation. It isn’t pretty.Of course I have outlined an exercise program for myself based on what I know I can stick with. And I have been doing mantras in my head to keep from beating myself up comparing what I can do now to what I could do then. Once the initial agony is over and I can walk more than a block without passing out from lack of oxygen to my brain I plan on revisiting (er… relearning) martial arts. Of all the exercises and programs I have endured in the past, my period of martial arts training was when I was the most happy with myself inside and out. I felt strong, and in control. Empowered. I need that back in my life. So now I sit here with my packet of personal data and plan of attack feeling a bit overwhelmed. I am nervous, excited, and still a little pissed off at myself. I am not an idiot. I am not uneducated in regards to how the body works. I am a human who has found herself stuck inside the most dangerous of human traps. The mind. It can be a force of evil if left unattended. Like a garden with no one to trim back the weeds and overgrowth. The mind can become a dense jungle of rogue, toxic thought. So I am going to spend the next few weeks with my gardening shears pruning my own garden. I’ll be on my hands and knees weeding the poisonous vines and grasses from the soil of my soul. And hopefully soon I will have the most glorious, lush paradise that I will continue to tend. Operation: Reanimate The Warrior Goddess is back in action. So mote it be.
Dear Goddess hear my plea, give me strength to not become… 
April 28, 2012
darkamber-dragon asked: I got pointed your way by ~lychee-twist on dA. Are you the one who had the sprite-ariel account with the fabulous Loki drawings?
No I am not. But I am now intrigued by fabulous Loki drawings.
I did once write a short story about Odin developing dementia.
April 23, 2012
Occult Octopus Part II
Meet Osgood and Oscar two newest members of the Occult Octopus family of creative muses. They want to tell a story.
For the full story read about their father Onslow.
March 28, 2012
March 25, 2012
The story of the apples and the bees.
It feels like a long time since I’ve written a candid blog post about the life and times of Little Miss Fuzzy Lizzard. So here is a snippet of my life.
There are things I have mentioned but haven’t really discussed on my blog site. Some things that are like knives to my heart when I relive them. One is the death of my brother, Bryan. The only reason that I mention it now is because, out of nowhere, like usual, emptiness descends and I am a puddle of tears missing him. Due to watching television or a movie where a character loses his/her brother/sister/father (yeah, just about any family member) and my world just fades to sadness. Which is exactly what just happened. It might also be the fact that his birthday is coming up soon. My brother was my best friend. He and I were 12 years apart in age. Which meant that he had a lot to teach me. He was my hero. He taught me to climb the apple trees in our backyard when I was barely old enough to walk. He taught me to love music. I mean really love music. He made my world bigger than the world most toddlers experience. I’m sure I was no more than an annoying tag along to a teenager. But he never made me feel like a burden on his young life. Most of the mischief I found myself in was due to his influence. I always stole his records and played them on my little red record player. Scratching the hell out of them. He showed me the glory of bands like Pink Floyd, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Yes, The Band, and even the Alan Parsons Project. I learned what patchouli incense was in his bedroom, which I had to go through to get to mine. Never making the connection to what scent it was masking. Once I stole his naked women rubics cube, almost getting expelled from the third grade. He was my life. Then I grew up. He moved out, once to Florida. And we still remained close. I wrote him letters. He kept those letters and a baby picture of me in his wallet until the day he died. There was a special bond between us, we needed each other. Like balancing forces keeping us from spiraling into chaos. When I ran away from home as a teenager he was destroyed. He told me later how much he cried thinking about the horrible things that were going through his mind. Thinking of me being hurt made him crazy, sometimes angry. When I went on my first date with my ex-husband and stayed out all night, he hit the streets looking for me. And found me. When anything happened to me, he was there to rescue me. Or at least try.When he was taken to the hospital for the first time after having a seizure while driving, it was me he called to come rescue him. And for the next nine years, as he suffered from the effects of brain tumors, he always called me to rescue him. We were more than siblings, we were the best of friends. His disease began to strip away his ability to do things. His disease began to strip away his memory. His disease stripped away his life. I was there through it all, rescuing him. He admitted to me only once that he was scared. That he doubted that he would beat his disease. He had the strength of a lion as the disease tore through his brain. Always believing that he could beat the odds with his will to survive, his faith. It was infectious. I almost believed it too. Then his disease took its toll. His life. I was there, holding his hand at the moment of his death. The moment I felt my own life tremble and fall. It has taken 11 years to find the strength to truly move on without him coming to my rescue. But the space in my heart where Bryan’s memory lives sometimes swells to overwhelming proportions. Releasing the tears, suffocating me. I still miss him more than anything.But I will never again let my grief stall my life, like it once did. Last year I got a memorial tattoo for him, symbolizing him living forever in my hear. The apple blossoms on my shoulder make me long to climb the trees with him again. The bee on my shoulder represents his ability to live against impossible odds. Also, it is a bee for Bryan. I smile every time I see it. Like he is with me.
His words infuse me with his strength. “It’ll be alright, Amy. Everything’s alright. Never give up.”
March 16, 2012
March 16, 2012
A short divergence from fantasy to focus on being a woman in 2012.
I don’t often voice my political views in public forums. Sometimes I repost funny memes about the ridiculous nature of the political landscape. But as I continue to scroll through my social networks the desire to speak gets more and more undeniable.
I am a woman. As such, I am outraged at the backward motion of our culture to place women in the subservient position once again. It is becoming clear that government and fanatical Christianity are becoming inseparable. The constitution is just seen as an obsticle in the way of those bent on controlling the bodies of women. More than just being a woman. I am a woman unable to reproduce. My question is, in this new regimented mindset of governmental control of women’s healthcare, where does that leave my options of controlling a disorder I cannot control without the use of hormonally based medications? I cannot make children, so do the rules of procreation before health apply to me? Or am I just fucked? As a woman unable to be the baby maker politicans want me to be, do I even count. Is my medical condition now a crime according to recent legislation? I may not be able to take birth control at my age due to high blood pressure, but it is unconscionable to take that option off the table for others battling the same disorder as I fight on a daily basis. I know birth control is only a small part of the trend to limit one’s access to gynecological care. Especially if you are under-insured or uninsured. Which most of the American public is. I am pro-choice. Period. It should not be permitted for a medical professional to refuse care based on religious beliefs. I am a nurse, if I refuse care to a patient based on cultural or religious issues I will be sued for discrimination. So why is it permitted for a pharmacologist or physician to deny pregnancy prevention care for a woman based soley on the basis of a religious difference of opinion. If I did that I would lose my license. The landscape of healthcare has been deteriorating in the United States since we have allowed pharmaceutical companies and insurance companies to make all the decisions. Doctors are mostly removed from the process unless it is an acute care situation. The US is the most inefficient society in the world for healthcare. We have the most advanced technology, but are limited by a capitalistic insurance adjuster saying it isn’t medically necessary to utilize the technology based on bottom line costs. We have put our medical decisions in the hands of those schooled in fiscal health not medicine. Those same bean counters are the ones in Washington pushing legislation to limit access to those they deem unworthy, i.e. uninsured Americans. Then from there they have begun to target women in order to gain further control over the population. I know this post is more of a rant than a political commentary. I have worked in the medical field for 15 years. I have seen it from many sides. The backsliding of healthcare scares me. As a woman. As an American. As a human.Here is an article that say it better than I do.
While I’m ranting… Do not get me started on gay rights. I will always defend the rights of any human to love another human. I am pro-human. Period.
March 16, 2012
For Short Stories refer to my other blogs…
After doing much research on policies of social networking and media sites, I have decided to delete all of my original stories and poems form Tumblr. They are still available on my other blog if you would like to read a short story about vikings or witches.
Tumblr will continue to be my outlet for Doctor Who reposts.
Thank you for reading my words and I hope you continue to do so.
RSS feed: http://fuzzylizzard.tumblr.com/rss
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music box
Text by blbest
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My chest is full of branches.
They are woven together in a
basket of black mud and asteroid.
It’s a nest that still... -
FROM LITREACTOR - HOW TO AVOID PUBLISHING SCAMS...
The Litreactor site is worth its weight in rare metals…
In every industry there are amazing...
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Audrey Hepburn
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The Doctor and The TorchDoctor Who’s Matt Smith Carries The Olympic Torch
Photo credit @alun_vega
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Gene Kelly publicity still for ’Singin’ in the Rain’, 1952.
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ALWAYS.
(Taken in Wicker Park)