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 [livejournal.com profile] hadleyrille books has decided to publish my novel, Chasing Cold next year. Is it too punny for a science fiction writer to describe his emotional state as "over the moon"?

Damn

Sep. 5th, 2010 11:49 pm
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Got a call this afternoon that the landlords on that perfect place aren't going to rent it after all. Insert sad emoticon here

Update

Sep. 5th, 2010 01:43 pm
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 Well, I made the commitment to myself not to fret about the housing situation one way or the other. I'll either find someone new to share my place or find a place in my hood. But not stressing the decision right now. Or that's what I'm trying for, anyway. 

The place near Little India totally didn't feel right at all. This is my hood and I love it. Don't want to move from here if I have any say in the matter at all.

Got a line on a place a bit further east than where I am now, on the other side of the area. Bright, basement studio, wireless internet, satellite TV and ensuite laundry included. My friends at Tango know them and say they're a cool couple. Please cross all fingers and toes and thing only the bestest of thoughts. 

Really want the universe in my side for this one

Blarg

Sep. 3rd, 2010 03:20 pm
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Once again, just as life is looking up, it turns on a dime. My housemate has decided he's moving out. We're not super conducive to each other. He's home all the time, and doesn't seem to have much going on in his life, and I find myself getting angry with him when I feel my own life is leaning in that direction. And on some level, I've been wanting to live alone again. Though the idea of moving freezes my soul.

Looking at a place tonight. Little more than I'd like to pay, but utilities and internet are included. Further east and smidge north of where I am, so still pretty easy to get to work. And it's on the edge of Little India, which would be cool. We'll see.

May just try to find someone else, but then I face the possibility of having to go through all of this all over again.

I just want a nice, quiet life for a while. Perhaps even a success or two
chronicpaint: (Default)
I am in the worst head space today and I can't put my finger on what it is. There are possibilities, I guess

Dating is so exhausting. The games people play and the complicated tap dance that goes on and on and on. Just be honest, for chrissake! I am so tired of feeling like I'm in this alone. And everywhere I turn, I see people getting into new relationships seemingly within minutes of the end of their last one. I think I know what I want. I want to feel connected. I want to feel like someone "gets" me, understands what makes me tick, if only partially. I want to like someone who doesn't just sit there and expect me to do the work and make the calls an the overtures and the decisions. If I say "hey, we should get together. When are you free?" Then give me an option or two an we'll work it out. If I ask you point blank if you're free on a certain day, don't ignore me. Meet me half way.

Despite my ranting about the Facebookification of the world, I want to be able to switch my status to "...is in a relationship with..."   The depth of the need kind of sickens me a little.

I feel old today. I feel every one of my forty-seven years, and like I've frittered most of them away with little to show. I wanted to be published by now (one of my novels, I mean) I wanted to be married and settled down by now.

I feel like I'm an afterthought.

The city is sweltering under smog and humidity. The air feels almost like it's shrinking in around me. But, despite it, I can feel summer starting to die. I'm not creating. Other than the revisions that the editor/reader asked for, I'm not writing. Other than a small postcard for [livejournal.com profile] eloquentwthrage I'm not painting. 

Whinge, whinge, whinge

Just pulling on through this mood until it passes. Dentist appointment after work and then yet another first date. This one with a stand-up comedian. So hopefully, he can make me laugh.

It's not all bad, though. The editor/reader sent me a message yesterday on FB and told me that, though the decision to publish doesn't lie with him, he's enjoying Chasing Cold.  That made me feel good.

Sunday

Aug. 29th, 2010 01:38 pm
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 I have resisted the siren call of the phone so far. I did break down and buy the complete Gilmore Girls, which was on sale (don't judge me! I love that show. Was amazingly well written and acted) and a pair of new shoes, which I needed. 

The really good news is that my friend's son does not have cancer. They're not sure what it is, but they know it's not malignant. Hugs relief. Though, for a nanosecond, I had this thought. "Now he's just another person who doesn't understand"  Which was a deeply horrible thing to think. It passed, though, washed away by relief that he doesn't have to endure it.

My mind still drifts now and then to the barely ten percent chance I had of survival and how I made it. It's interesting, this feeling. Not good or bad or anything in particular. Kind of like seeing an exotic and unfamiliar animal for the first time. Fascination, maybe. 

The guy, K, from the big misunderstanding on that Tuesday of the doctor's appointment, messaged me on BearWWW yesterday. After not answering my email for almost two weeks and not appearing on Skype or MSN in that time either. I had kind of written him off, figuring he found me as difficult as I found him.  

Couple of other possibilities with potential. Biding my time. I know what I want, and I figure I'll recognize it when I see it and I'll dive in with both feet.

Discovered a really good word processing program called Atlantis. Almost all of the functionality of Word, except for collaborative processes, so no tracking of changes, but it has everything else I need and the licence is only around $40. Giving it a test run right now.

Still waiting for word on the novel from the editor/publisher that's looking at it. 

And MSN has quit working on my netbook and I have no idea why.  Grrrr.

Sunday, Bloody (good) Sunday, my darlings
chronicpaint: (Default)
I've been doing really well at paying down my debt. Since the surgery and getting back on my feet, I've been walking to the store and buying groceries rather than eating out, which, no surprise, has been doing wonders for my budget.

I've been saving money into a TFSA for about a year or so now and reached a point where it matched what I owed on my line of credit. On my dad's wise advice, I paid it off, and now, the money I was paying onto the LOC is going back into the savings account. Now, all I have left is some money on my Visa.

The problem is, I am craving a new phone. I want the HTC Desire with a lust deeper than I have felt for many of the men in my past. And I have wavered over and over and over about just going and upgrading. Thing is, I don't have an offer on the table from my provider, so I'd pay full price for it.

I'm resisting due to my financial situation. I don't want to accrue any more debt right now, not when I'm so close to being clear. And there's another part of me that wants to resist the acquisitiveness, the "I must have the newest and latest _____ or my life is empty" I have my HTC Touch Dual, which serves most of my needs just fine. It's still working and I can text and check email and take calls. I have worked hard at shedding at least some small part of the wants that I've had in the past.

All of this is complicated by the fact that, due to the way my paydays fall, tomorrow's pay cheque isn't earmarked for anything. Last one paid bills, next one can pay rent, so this one is just going to sit there and taunt me, begging to be spent on a new phone. I thought of an alternate plan this morning, which was take $100 and spend it on myself, on something I've been wanting, then make a nice payment on the Visa. I shall ponder.

But the phone, she calls to me....

Must. Fight. Temptation

Eep!

Aug. 18th, 2010 08:52 am
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Did a little research this morning. According to one study I found, the five year survival rate for metastatic synovial sarcoma is around 10%

*shiver*

Did someone just walk over my grave??

That's just.... Wow.
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Forget Monday, Tuesday was what sucker punched me this week. I managed to forget both my lunch date with my friend, John and my doctor's appointment until the last minute. So I packed and took a lunch, not even realizing my booking until my phone chirped at me. So, I'm frazzled already.

I made it to the hospital, got my x-rays and waited and waited. Was about two hours past my appointment time before I saw the doc. Good news though, everything is fine. Stem looks solid and this is a better prosthesis than the old one. 

But then, he said something to the residents that were following him around. I can't remember the wording exactly, but it was something to the effect of how few people survive synovial sarcoma that metastasizes to the lungs like mine did. And then he said something like "And then every once in a while you get someone like Stephen"

I don't know why it still brings me up short. I know what happened. I know what I endured. But to have it spelled out so clearly that the odds were so high against me actually surviving is.... I don't know. Scary? How can it be frightening when it ended seven years ago? It just took the wind out of my sails. Maybe to know how close the bullet came. That my life now is this amazing, lucky gift that fell from the sky. That everything I fought and bled and puked for was worth it. 

When Dr. Wunder came in, the first thing he said was that it was funny me being there since he got an email from my friend whose son may have bone cancer. It's so like her. Just seize the reins and contact him directly and drop my name. She says her docs there have a lot of respect for him and she wants him to take the case on if at all possible. I've offered her my couch and my home if she needs it. I trust Dr. W. With my life, since he gave it back to me.

I was supposed to have a date with the Skype guy tonight. We chatted briefly last night and something he said put me off a bit, but I just let it go. Then, after the schmozzle today, he messaged me on MSN. We'd been back and forth a bit. I said, let's go for a drink. He said he doesn't drink. He said let's go to a movie, but after my day, I said let's go for a coffee and talk. He said he's over the cafe thing (??) and was there a park nearby where we could go for a walk. There isn't really and he said something about me making things difficult.

And I kinda snapped a little bit. I said something a bit snippy in return and said I was tired and emotional after my day (which was completely true) and logged off MSN, closed Skype and walked away from my computer. He texted me (he doesn't have a text plan) and I replied I needed some quiet time, but he apparently didn't get it.

There are a lot of things that are very different about us, and I have no idea if they're surmountable, and I composed an apology via email stating some of what I was feeling about all those differences. 

And then he drove down from Brampton to see if I was okay. I gave him a hug and tried to explain, but I don't think he got it. He just said, "So you were lucky|" Which is only a mere part of it all. But I gave him a hug and a kiss.

Don't know what comes next after this. Other than sleep. Night night.
chronicpaint: (Default)
Oy. Monday. Made better by my morning commute music: Commander by Kelly Rowland (the song from the So You Think You Can Dance Canada ads), The Drumming Song by Florence and the Machine, some vintage Cocteau Twins, Beautiful Monster by Ne-Yo and Scars by Basement Jaxx.

I heart music.

Saturday was a fun birthday party out in Hamilton for [livejournal.com profile] dougoros , who is rapidly approaching decrepitude. We celebrated the beginning of his dotage around the pool and with good food and laughter. Was interesting watching a recently uncoupled pair of friends try to outhappy each other. Everyone was well behaved.

However, the day was marred by my cell phone ringing in the middle of the trip up. Was a Saskatchewan number and I missed answering it. Was an old friend from high school. Looks like her son has Ewing's Sarcoma, a nasty bone cancer. Not confirmed, but they're sending them either here or to Vancouver for biopsy and treatment. Had a momentary, internal freakout. I wonder if hearing "____ has cancer" will ever not send me skidding into the guard rails. I hope they end up here. I'd like to help if I can. I did send a message on Facebook with what little I had to offer ("ask questions. Ask for help. Trust the doctors. My doctors are named ___. Get them if you can. Hard choices will have to be made. Don't try to be positive all the time. Be authentic with your feelings)  No idea if it will help. If you have good thoughts to spare, I would greatly appreciate them.

Sunday was a sweltery afternoon at Tango Palace (Broken AC) and then I intended to watch SYTYCD Canada, but ended up on Skype chatting with a guy I've talked with before. Sparks were flying. He's sweet and sexy and, above all else, willing. No tippy toe dancing around the idea of actually being in a relationship if the right person comes along. And just as tired of the dating BS. We are having dinner tomorrow, so we shall see what happens next.  Mild twitterpation is occurring.

Happy Monday

Hump

Aug. 11th, 2010 10:56 am
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I must admit, I'm a wee bit dismayed by the lack of response to the photos. The responses I have received have been immensely gratifying but people have been quieter this time.

I'm putting it down to Livejournal being much quieter in general than it used to be. I'd rather not think it's lack of interest or reaction to the pics.

But what gives me pause more is how much I wanted the reaction. Did I just do it all to be a comment whore? Or do I really, deep down, believe myself when I think that getting responses to them is closing the circle, really bringing the process to a close. Is it about just the experience of doing the work, or does the work need to be seen a inspire comment, that needs to be shared with the creators.

Cue overthinking. ;)

Or maybe it's all about how I'm finding online interactions becoming less and less of an interaction and more of a monologue. We all post, but don't react to what others post, then whinge because no one reacts to what WE say.  And I know I'm terrible at it too. I know I need to make more of an effort to thoughtfully comment on what I read here.

Happy Hump Day, my darlings. Go look at my penis!!
chronicpaint: (Default)
 I have been recording the changes in my body for almost ten years now. I am blessed to have met and known some amazing photographers in my time and they have given me the gift of their talents in helping me to see. 

This time, I needed to push my boundaries further. This needed to be about sex. Too often, people with disabilities are un-sexed, seen as beyond such things or past them. Not really worthy of desire or lust. And it comes from within too. Too often I struggle with the things my body wants to do, but can't any more. And I have to find new ways to express the desires. 

So, on Saturday, I was a porn star. A profession I have greater respect for, because it ain't easy. And [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome followed me and guided me and made beautiful pictures. In the end, I will share most of them with only a few people (though if they are ever released into the wild someday, I will hold my head high)   These are the ones that I want to be seen. Not graphic, but... charged? Erotic, I hope. 

But most importantly, free. In a way I needed to be. 

Naked. In so many ways. )
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Further to [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome 's post of images from Saturday's shoot, I wanted to add a few more. These are my favourites of the images of the scar

Not safe for most workplaces )
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Over HERE

They are not even remotely safe for work. There is genitalia. Thou has been warned
chronicpaint: (Default)
 It's amazing how one's mood can turn on a dime. Work was okay. Got to see [livejournal.com profile] torontomame and [livejournal.com profile] clockwork_zero after work. 

I feel good inside. And that makes the outside look good to me too, no matter what. Can't wait to see and get feedback on the photos from Saturday 

Thanks for staying tuned in, y'all

Score!

Aug. 9th, 2010 08:03 pm
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Found a novel template for OpenOffice that was almost exactly right and modified it to be proper MS format, saved it as a new template. W00T!!
chronicpaint: (Default)
Okay, I love OO but there's one thing I need for manuscript format that I am having the devil's own time figuring out

I need to be able to define a header for the first page, then from the second page on, define a totally different header. Super easy in MS Word with the "Different First Page" check box. In OO there are all these complicated, confusing directions for changing styles and try as I might, I can't get them to work.

Can anyone give me simple, clear instructions on setting this up?

Halloooooo?

Aug. 9th, 2010 02:27 pm
chronicpaint: (Default)
Anybody out there?   Internetz is vewy, vewy quiet today

Are we hunting wabbits?
chronicpaint: (Default)
 Did my shoot with [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome yesterday. The shoot itself was great. He's so easy to work with, even when one is pushing one's boundaries. He has this easy, safe manner about him that makes you feel safe and protected whether you have your clothes on or not.

Seeing the pics, is always hard though. Don't get me wrong. They're beautiful art. Some of them are beautiful porn. And I haven't the slightest regret in doing them. Any of them. 

But my body. My poor body. 

Since this recovering from this last surgery, my confidence has shot through the roof. I'm walking well, my body is aligned, I feel amazing. But that makes me feel, finally, like it's all over. Like I've really recovered. Like the cancer is really, truly gone and I'm healed. Seeing what was done in the name of this survival though... I'm a paste up. A quilt. Held together with spit and baling wire. Add to that, I'm careening around into that last curve to fifty. Seeing myself, my scars, my fat, the grey hairs that have crept in everywhere I have hair, which is almost everywhere, that takes the wind out of my sails. As a complete picture, I am built of many hard, ugly memories; many great trials and victories. All at a cost. 

It's odd, though. I love the scars. They are my war wounds, my medals. They don't bother me. It's seeing things like the way one picture makes my belly look rounder and heavier. It's the pebbly skin of my ass. It's the odd angle and ugly line of my left leg goes to when my legs are spread and the knee is hyperextended to lock the prosthetic so I can bear weight. 

It all taps into a feeling that has been growing since this last recovery; a flood of memories of just how bad it was, how much I did, how far I've come. Which, I know sounds odd. I mean, I was the only one there for it all, the only one who saw it all happen. It's amazing what your mind can screen, the memories it can suppress. 

There will be a posting over at [livejournal.com profile] bitterlawngnome 's journal soon. We're having a bit of a negotiation on pic choice. If I can find somewhere to host the other images, then I'll post anything I want seen that he doesn't choose. 

Only other real news is that I submitted the novel to a press that bought some of my short fiction and received some good feedback. One of the editor's suggestions made for a radical rethink of the first act. Which I embarked on, partly to try and convince them to publish and partly because it addressed the pacing issue that was raised back in the feedback from the agent. And it's a good mind exercise. Like a test. "Here's the issue and challenge. Run with it." Which, actually, kind of excites me. Actually only required some layering to some chapters and allowed me to restore a scene I had cut for pace in the first place, as it speaks to the new direction. We shall see.

I don't want to go back to work tomorrow.

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