Posts Tagged ‘quotes’

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I’m not a single bit surprised that 2016 is off to a rough start. It’s almost a tradition at this point: go into it hopeful, get knocked down so fast my head spins. Because by “rough start”, I mean that it has been made very clear to me that this coming year will make or break me. And I refuse to let it break me, no matter how hard everything is trying to. All good news fades. All steps forward seem like they haven’t mattered. I am no closer to anything than I was before. If anything, I’ve fallen back several steps.

But, I push forward:

+ I’m working hard at my Wandering NerdGirl blog, in hopes that my nerdy adventures can be more productive. Cons, Orlando, other nerd-tastic events… I’m on it.

+ I’m writing again, period. I was so down and depressed Tuesday, reading about the market and what agents and publishers don’t want right now, blah blah. I’m a very critical person on myself, so of course I instantly decide everything I write is garbage and I should give up. But for some reason, one of my favorite story ideas popped into my brain, and I had a lot of interesting new ideas for it. Since it hasn’t actually been written yet, it will be a good exercise in writing again. I’ve spent so long in editing and rewriting hell, I haven’t had much time or opportunity for new creation. I’ve mostly been jotting notes down and what not, or writing a few specific scenes that some to mind. But as soon as I get my thoughts together, I’m running with it. I’ll hammer out my first draft, as intimidating as that feels right now. I won’t lose my dream. I’m going to write this book for me, and see where that takes me.

+ I have been drawing. Well, the last day or two I haven’t been. But I will excuse that because I have started a huge, new painting of Poe Dameron’s helmet from Star Wars: The Force Awakens. It’s all pretty exciting, considering I was very close to just getting rid of a lot of my art stuff to save space.

+ I have my eyes on new projects. Bigger projects. More projects. I have plans to go beyond what I have done and make something new all the time. New shoots, new types of projects, new ideas. It’s all very vague to you guys right now because I’m not jumping in with both feet just yet, so there isn’t much information to share. Just cross your fingers that I make the time to pull it all off.

+ My collection is growing. My collection is a tiny beast, but it is my tiny beast. I know I’ve been slacking on the Collection Haul posts, and if you’d like to see them again, I could start back up this month or in February. There have been quite a few additions. And as stupid or trivial or whatever it sounds, one of my goals for the year is to really build my collection up. I take great pride in my Batman stuff. Someday I’ll have a massive assortment of various Batman items properly displayed.  For now, it steadily grows.

+ I’ve been trying to figure out how to get back to college, and exactly what I want to do when I get back. I was going to start again Fall 2015 but my financial aid decided to be complicated. So maybe Fall 2016 or Spring 2017. Who knows. Going back genuinely frightens me at this point. But I would still like to try.

 

So, you have a basic rundown of my game plan for the year. Obviously, subject to change. But hopefully, this year I rise from the ashes and become closer to where I was before.

 

~Angel

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RAGEAGAINSTDEATH

Typically, I make some sort of Thanksgiving related “Thankful” post. Today, I show how thankful I am for what turned around a very bad weekend.

There is a giant reason that this blog is called “Misadventures of a Misfit” – Frequently, my best laid plans fall apart. Hope for the best, expect the worst, settle for something in between. More often than not lately, these plans are damaged by my wonderful body deciding to do something terrible to me at an extremely inopportune time. I was hoping to come back from Reno with fantastic tales of comic con, and loads of pictures of me super excited and looking like a major dork. But instead I come back still battling my body from what can best be described as the worst flare I’ve had since the initial, horrible flare that put me in Barnes hospital for 3 days and started this autoimmune (mis)adventure.

For a few weeks now, I have been very scared that I’ll have to have a hysterectomy after my procedure. I’ve been very scared to find out I have a cancer I wasn’t bracing for.

This weekend, I was very scared I was going to die.

And as weird as this statement sounds, the weekend was saved by Jay and Silent Bob.

I had just gotten into the con, and my first thing I needed to do was get in line for my picture with Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith. Jason was going to be there for the con itself, but Kevin however was literally there that one day for that one dual photo op with Mewes. I have a lot of admiration for Kevin Smith as a writer and as a creator and person in general and knew this may well be the most I’ll ever get to do in terms of meeting him.

Now, I will say this – I had not felt particularly well this day. But I also hadn’t felt well for a while, hence why I had gone to an ASAP appointment with my surgeon and tests and now the procedure in two weeks. So I wasn’t phased really. It was what it was and had been. I had things to do.

Unfortunately, just before I went up for my photo op, when I had just a few people in line before me, something went wrong in my body. Suddenly I was dizzy, and realized I was going to be ill. Apparently, my blood pressure dropped, my O2 dropped, and ultimately I dropped. To top off this horribleness, I vomited as I went down. Hello, hundreds or so people around me. I am Chronically Ill Girl, and you are not used to my horrible body.

To make this portion of the story as short as possible: I was not well, the Wizard World staff took very good care of me, until the EMT came, checked me out, and had me wheeled away to the first aid station, where I was urged to go to the hospital considering everything going on with my past medical history as well as my current concerns. In reality, I should have agreed for them to call the ambulance. But I was already heartbroken that I’d missed my one shot to see Kevin Smith, and I wasn’t about to miss seeing Adam West and Burt Ward on top of everything else. I got cleaned up and changed and went on with my day.

When I was walking away from my photo op with Adam West and Burt Ward, I was weaving through the booths, and saw that Jason Mewes was at his table doing autographs. I figured I could salvage some of that photo op mishap by at least meeting Mewes. One half was better than not at all, right? And at least I had hopes he didn’t know I was the girl that went down in the line outside.

And he didn’t know… Until my mother told him.

MEWES

So at this point, I’m feeling embarrassed all over again, and I’m ready to shuffle off with my autograph and hide in the corner, especially since I still felt horrible. But that’s when Mewes told me he felt terrible for what happened with me, and that I didn’t get to meet Kevin.

Then he took my number and gave it to his assistant at the table. And told me he’d help me meet Kevin before he left for his flight. Hugs and selfies and many “Thank you”s. I cried when I walked away. I couldn’t believe this was happening to ME.

Now, I’ve been very nervous about actually talking about this, because what was done for me was something I didn’t ask for or expect, and I don’t want someone to ever take advantage of the kindness of others. But still, this kindness meant more to me than I think either of them realized.

So, I went back to my hotel room to shower and rest and in general gear myself up for a few more minutes at con and to prepare myself to somehow meet Kevin Smith.

When 5pm rolled around, my mom and I were waiting in the hotel lobby, as instructed, with promise that Kevin knew I was there waiting for him. I was weak and dizzy and severely anemic, but absolutely determined not to miss this opportunity.

And then I saw him heading my way, iconic jersey and all, and I completely lost focus of how bad I felt as my brain took over.

kevinsmith

I got to meet Kevin Smith. I got to hug him, and take selfies, and he asked how I was feeling. And I GOT TO MEET KEVIN SMITH.

The admiration I have for him already on top of how absolutely freaking AMAZING it was that he and Mewes did this for me made my entire trip. Unfortunately, not long after this, I went downhill again. But for this amount of time, I was on top of the world.

Rage against death by making some art today.

It really sparked a fire in me. I want to create things while I still can. And if ever, for some insane reason, someone looks to me like I do to him, I will do all I can to help make their day too. Someday, even, I’d like to repay Jason and Kevin both. Because something so small and simple to one person, can mean the whole world to another. This was the highlight of my trip, and has turned around the doom and gloom attitude I’ve had toward my health. I can accomplish anything I want, and I don’t have to let anything get in my way. It doesn’t matter if I live ten more years or 60 more.

I will rage against death.

Time to make the best of what time I have. Time to make my mark.

~Angel

Edited to add: Based off of symptoms and blood work, it looks like this was all brought on by a very, very bad disease flare to rival that of the initial one in 2012 that sparked the whole Mysterious Sickness of Doom thing. So I’m still not 100%, but I’m recovering, slowly but surely. Two weeks until my biopsy!

be soft

Yesterday was bad. Yesterday was overwhelming, and scary, and I’m not sure how I made it out with my sanity. But, nothing of real note happened yesterday. No particular thing set off two very bad panic attacks. Instead, a build up of frustration and stress and the immense feeling of being absolutely powerless all melded together to leave me shaken.

I am a strong person, but I cannot always hold my head above the water. Sometimes, it’s all too much. Sometimes, I start drowning.

But I am also determined to survive, despite everything else. I have come too far to let myself fall apart now.

 

Between health, and life, and the world, and trying to find a balance between who I am now, and who I want to be, I am not coping well. Things don’t work out as we plan, and I completely understand this reality. But it doesn’t mean I have to accept that this is it. I’m torn between settling down and chasing my dreams with reckless abandon. It’s hard to do both at the same time unless you’ve already reached some success. And, unfortunately for me, I am not nearly as close to success as I used to be.

I worry for the world. I worry about people being absolute assholes to each other. I try to make a difference, but I can’t do it alone. You can read more on my post Give the World Your Best – because it’s pointless for me to go into the same details all over again for everyone that’s already read it.

I have three weeks until my procedure, and it’s making me a nervous wreck.

Yet, I have so much to make me feel better and distract myself so I don’t have to deal with anymore negative energy. The week after my procedure, I’m going to see Wicked at the Fox, and going to the Fox is one of my faaavorite things. This weekend, I’m going to Reno for a con. Next week is Thanksgiving so I’ll have some much needed down time from work. I’m sure there’s more I’m not thinking of. But I’m still scared and worried. I still feel like time is passing sooooo slowly.

Everything is making me feel like I have no control, and I don’t want to feel that way anymore.

So, I’m devising a plan. I am moving toward changes.

More will be coming soon.

~Angel

keepgoing

“Cause there’s no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous paces bracing for bad news.”

Last week was a rough one. This week isn’t shaping up to be much better.

Thursday I had an appointment with a new specialist about my feet, because I’ve had some excruciating pain making it difficult to walk for a few months now, but I have mostly ignored it and went on with life. Finally, I saw someone for it, and was diagnosed with Morton’s Neuroma, a condition that causes swelling of the tissue in my feet that presses on the nerves and causes horrible pain. So, I was given some injections in my feet to see if they’d help and prevent surgery for as long as possible. My feet have been swollen and sore, more so than usual, since the injections. Unless they miraculously get better in a few days, I’ll safely assume this isn’t going to work.

Now, here is the more stressful part of my week. Wednesday, I called my surgeon’s office, finally fed up with the pain and other symptoms I have been having that seemed, to me at least, like they may be the return of the giant cyst I had removed from my left ovary last December. I called, spoke with a nurse, who also seemed pretty concerned, and she set me up on the phone for the first opening to get an ultrasound and see my doctor again. So the few days I had to wait were nerve-wracking.

Yesterday, I went in for my tests, and then saw my physician. She explained that my ovaries didn’t have any big, problematic cysts as I had suspected. But what, then, could be causing my problems?

This is where I start to zone out. Because the minute she started discussing a diagnostic procedure to see what’s wrong with my uterus, and the big C word slips into the mix, I started to find it hard to focus.

Before anyone panics, it could be a few different possibilities. Yes, I worry it could be cancer or precancerous polyps. Yes, it makes me feel nauseated and weird and disconnected. But I won’t know anything until my procedure, which I am eagerly awaiting my phone call letting me know when it’s scheduled for. So, we will see how this all turns out.

Just wanted to give everyone a quick little update on what’s going on.

~Angel

We used to play pretend, give each other different names,
We would build a rocket ship and then we’d fly it far away,
Used to dream of outer space but now they’re laughing at our face,
Saying, “wake up, you need to make money.”

Whenever I travel and find myself inspired on my journey, it does two things. Obviously, one thing it does is strike me with a desire to create and work harder. But an unfortunate counter to that inspiration, is a terrible reminder in the back of my mind, gnawing at me despite how desperately I try to block it out, that I am not where I want to be in life, and that in itself can kill the positive aspects of travel.

This is my post-travel depression. Every time I come home, I don’t feel at home. I feel lost. It’s like I come back to normal life, and I don’t remember who I am. I lose the connection I had to my happiest self, and during this disconnection, I return to the girl I have to be. The girl putting everyone and everything else first.

Granted, I have continued working on this problem, as promised. This has helped my stress not be as stressful. But I’m still a little off.

But, I have to continue forward. I’m still giving myself the freedom to love what I love. To enjoy the things that spark my creativity and make me want to do more. It’s been interesting seeing how helpful reintegrating horror back in as a regular staple has been. By the time I got to Halloween Horror Nights at Universal last Friday, I was ready to take in everything around me and not only enjoy it for what it was, but to use it as a source of inspiration. I felt excited and happy and ready to create.

Now I’m back to real life, and I’m trying to hold on to the motivation. I started doodling and sketching last night. I want to write when I get a chance. I’m trying to work on ideas for some different projects. I’ve been planning out posts for Wandering NerdGirl based off of my trip. I can do this. I know I can. I can work hard and get somewhere.

dontgiveup

Let’s see what I can do now, shall we?

~Angel

“Working hard is important, but there’s something that matters even more. Believing in yourself. Think of it this way: Every great wizard in history has started out as nothing more than we are now. Students. If they can do it, why not us?” – Harry Potter (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

hp

My body doesn’t care about what I want to do, or what I need to do. My body is an angry, vengeful creature staging a violent rebellion against me for everything I do. But I continue regardless, because things must be done, whether my body wants them done.
It makes writing difficult. It makes waking up earlier difficult. It makes focusing on projects and having the energy to complete anything difficult. It makes work difficult. It makes everything difficult. But I cope. I deal. I do my best.

I’ve spent so much time lately beating myself up for the days I can’t do the extra stuff. The days I can’t get out of bed. The days I give more to my day job than I get paid for. But being upset with myself makes matters worse. I need to be my own motivator, and instead I’m dragging myself down.

So, I will write. I will draw. I will post about Batman stuff and nerdy adventures.

Despite being horribly sick all week, I’m continuing on with work and trying desperately to find time to write. I hammered out a quick short story to get myself back into gear. It was sloppy and weird, and hummed with the influence of reintroducing horror back into my life as a regular staple.

But now, I need to get to work on more serious projects. I need to accomplish more.

I can do this. I can push though. I can be everything I want and more.

I just have to believe in myself. Why not me?

~Angel

Motivation-Picture-Quote-Later-Never

Failure – it’s a word I’ve been using against myself for a while now. But the last few months, since my aunt died, I’ve been quietly battering myself with the word.

Charlean was more than just my aunt. She treated me like I was one of her grand kids, and spent most of my childhood taking care of me. There’d be times once I was older that we’d have a difference of opinion, but she still loved me all the same. I spent the last few years regularly going over and bringing her books to read from my collection. But the books she wanted to read the most, she never had the chance to.

Mine.

And just a week or so before she died, I was promising I’d have a decent draft to bring by for her to read. I printed my manuscript. I was almost to the day job finish line. I could do it. I could finally let her read something I had written.

Then, I failed.

I was there when she died. I was there when the nurse came to clean the body. I was there when they came to take her away. It started at 3am and felt like it went on for an eternity. It was hard. Ridiculously hard.

Before my mother and I headed home, my uncle told me to go into my aunt’s bedroom and get the books she had borrowed off of her shelf. That’s when it hit me.

When I held those books in my hand and saw the bookmark where she left off, and the books she had yet to finish, it felt like an elephant stepped on my chest. I couldn’t cry again. I couldn’t breathe. Her life had stopped so abruptly, and then the thought finally hit me. I had failed her.

I have tried to reason with myself that I didn’t really fail her. But she always asked to read something of mine, and I always let everything else be more important than getting my writing career off the ground. She believed in me more than I ever have.

The thought still lingers there. It held me up on progress during my time I spent unemployed. I was ashamed of myself, and the words just wouldn’t come when I needed to write. All I could focus on was that word. Failure. I was out of time, so why should I progress?

It’s becoming easier now to confront this feeling. I’ve started writing again. Started edits again on the manuscript I had wanted her to read. I’m working on my projects and trying to balance things out and get my life back together. It still eats at me, but it also drives me.

I count her among those I must live for now.

~Angel