Hey, what happened to your life?

That is the question I ask myself. What happened to your life?

Not that my life has taken a negative turn. I'm not doing intravenous drugs, I haven't been arrested, and I'm not being abused. My life has just become, mundane, maybe? If you can ever call raising a four year old mundane.
I've become...a "home maker". Never, in a million years did I expect that. I have wanted to be an actress, an opera singer, a writer...anything to get my name put on a map somewhere. For awhile, I called myself a drummer. But Whitewolf betrayed me, and I left Voice of United Spirit, sensing that I was no longer welcome.

So here I am. When Arthur goes to work, I watch the kid. I clean house, I make ham-fisted attempts at cooking, and I occasionally try to pursue a hobby that isn't watching Netflix, or screwing around on tumblr. I do the shopping, and go to the laundromat. I understand my mother's feelings of isolation during my childhood. This is lonely. Even with the internet, this is so lonely.

Ten years ago, I was sixteen and hopeful. In love all the time, longing for fame and fortune. Now I want...what? A published novel. For things to get a little easier. A baby. Maybe.

I never write anymore. I never do anything. I can feel my brain dying from lack of stimulation. What the fuck happened?

I'm bringing this blog back. Actually writing. About stuff. Anything. My kid. The weather. More cemetery reviews. The many ways one can cook a potato.

Oy vey...

Last night, I had a dream that Arthur and I were saving money so we could take a trip to Hershey Park. Oh Hershey. I've only been there twice, and last time I went was five and a half years ago, but it's obviously left an impression.

Certainly it left an impression deep enough to write an eight post chronicle of the 2008 trip. I had such a good time writing about that weekend, that I found myself writing more accounts of my various other amusement park trips.
Eventually though, it got frustrating. I struggled to remember every detail. It began to become consuming an distracting. I was hyper focusing.
I have massive dejas vu. I think I've written about this before. Bitched about this before. I'm awfully redundant.

And I'm awfully critical of my own work. I find my own writing to be overly detailed and dense. At times, I find my literary voice to be unfortunately pretentious.
So how can I improve? How can I become a better writer? I am convinced that no one wants to read my style. I am utterly convinced that people find my style to be...boring. Hard to read.
I want to take writing classes at CCV. I'm wondering if I can get a grant, or something, take the classes. Figure out how to improve, and eventually get published. I figure if E L James and Stephenie Meyer can get their dredge and offal published, then my pothery and overripe ramblings could probably end up in print.

Right?

Right?

A Long Absence

 It's been nearly nine months since I last posted. A lot has happened in my life, and I don't know where to begin or what to say. I'm mostly on tumblr now, with a blog of the same name as this one. There, I write shorter pieces, and reblog things that interest me.

The fact of the matter is, that no one but me really gives a shit about this blog. I have only five followers, and I receive little to no traffic. Blogs like this are a dying breed. With things like tumblr, twitter, instagram and pinterest, what's the point? What's the fucking point. I don't have instagram or pinterest. I don't need them. I have tumblr (find me at faerieincombatboots.tumblr.com), a twitter, a facebook, a DeviantArt and god knows what else. I used to frequent places like Team9000, and The Bloody Jack Boards, but forums do not hold my interest any more.
Since I've been AWOL from this quiet corner of the internet, Arthur and I have become a couple, and he's moved in with me. My best friend had a baby boy, and I am now a godmother. My Grandma Mary died in June. I've been depressed. Two nights ago, my boyfriend got attacked, and he had to kick the guy's ass. I've been jumpy and anxious ever since.

I've been wondering if I should continue with this blog. What do I have to write about? I've decided that the memoirs were frivolous, and really, no one really fucking notices this place anyway. Really. Not even I notice it. Well, actually, my computer died, and I had to get my internet fix from an Android and my mom's laptop. Blogging regularly when you don't have your own computer is a pain in the dick.

But my sister's friend Jen has given me her old laptop. It's a good one, enough to store photos, write and do internet stuff on. That's all I need. I want to write more. I have novel ideas, and I need a place to put them down.

A Warning

This blog is my corner of the internet. There are many corners of the internet, but this one is mine. Here, I share thoughts, opinions, memories and feelings, for both my own benefit, and hopefully the benefit of others. Here, I practice my writing skills, in the hope that one day, I might become a published author.
That being said, I would like to issue a warning. I say what I want on here. My words are frank and candid. Because of this, some readers will be offended. Some may find that they will dislike what I have to say. They may disagree with an opinion. They may find my prose too dense for their tastes. It doesn't matter, what it is, they will be offended.
If you are offended, you have several options. Firstly, you may unfollow my blog (if you follow it) or click the 'back' button on your browser. You may block my account too, if that is your wish. No one is forcing you to read my words. Least of all me.
I do not want to get into an internet flame war. Flame wars are pointless and childish. Nobody truly wins a flame war. If you want to comment on something you dislike, please do so in a calm manner without being rude or condescending. Last year, on varying parts of of the internet, I had several people treat me with cruelty and condescending disdain, merely because they disagreed with my posts, or thought I had offended them in some way.
Oh, but Faerie, you just insulted me on one of your older posts, I am so butthurt! Oh, but Faerie, your opinion is wrong, let me educate you! Oh Faerie, I think I know more than you so I'm going to spout Tl;Dr nonsense at you and try to sound smarter than you, when really I'm not! Oh Faerie, you've damaged my precious ego! You've offended my delicate sensibilities! Rabble rabble rage!

OK. You're offended. You're butthurt over something somebody said on the interbutts. OK. That's cool, homeslice. You can have your feelings.I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying that I am not responsible for them. Anything I say on here comes from my heart. And my ovaries. My beautiful, shiny ovaries. How you respond to me, is all on you.
So I'm warning you. If you have a precious ego, and get easily offended, you may not want to linger here. If you don't like foul language, or big complicated words, you may not want to on this blog. If you're gonna start shit on MY blog, expect your ass to get blocked. Simple as that.
If you can handle the truth, and behave maturely to incendiary words, by all means, stay. But when it comes down to it, I'm in no mood for nobody's bullshit but mine.

2012- A Year in Review

2012 was a fucking roller coaster. Some really awful things happened that year, but so did some really good things. Epic things. So you know, read all about it.

January- January sucked. January really sucked. First of all, we'd just moved into a new apartment, and I had to get used to everything. I was recovering from my breast reduction, and had popped a stitch. And if that wasn't bad enough, I was still pining over my ex, Robbie. I even went to Mr. G's to talk to him. I awkwardly asked him out. He told me he had to 'check his schedule'. I thought he was being literal, and actually needed to check. Nope. He was going to the movies with The Missing Link and didn't know how to say no to me. As a result of this deception, I become very depressed. I spend my time drinking and crying. Then, on the night of January 23rd, I went for a walk to clear my head. Big mistake. I got mugged. Two assholes took my wallet and ran off into the night. I was unharmed, but badly traumatized. That night, two 'friends' also decide to jump my shit over inconsequential facebook crap. I spend the rest of the month trying very hard to recover from the incident. I find solace in watching RuPaul's Drag Race and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

February- The month is eerily warm. I visit my Dad in Manchester and spend time with both him, and my sister, Cele. My sister and I go shopping at several malls, but I can't remember any of what we bought. We go to malls all the time, so it all kind of blends together in one orgy of Orange Julius and Cinnamon Pretzels. Maybe there are crepes, though that could have been in April. I don't fucking know. I'm still recovering from getting mugged. When I find that I can walk 3 miles from the Manchester Library to my Dad's house after dark, I know I'm going to be OK. Two bitches I knew from Repo! Chat Get their panties in a bunch because I speak out against wearing pajamas in public. Because apparently, thinking it looks sloppy is a crime against feminism and I'm a bad ol' misogynist. Abortion? Not a problem? Domestic violence? It's cool. PJs in public? ZOMG RABBLE RABBLE RAGE.

March- March is very quiet. My muggers get arrested, and I still seethe over Robbie. My friend Dalton and I talk very briefly about dating, but eventually decide we'd be better as friends. My obsession with My Little Pony grows.

April- As far as months go, this one is pretty awesome. I go to my Dad's for my birthday. I explore the local cemeteries, and on my birthday, he and Cele take me out to Olive Garden.Then, I go to Cele's apartment and the next day we have a fun day in Portsmouth. I buy cool new jeans, in wild colors like hot pink leopard and cherry red. I see a hawk, and make friends with squirrels. My dad and I have a very nice Easter dinner, and he gives me an Easter basket filled with candy and pretty things. I go back to VT in my scarlet jeans and gummi bear necklace feeling confident. I meet my best friend's fiance, Chase.

May- Not much happens in May. My friends and I go out a lot. I finally get my own fucking computer. I write my own song for the Drum that I call Abenaki Squirrel song.

June- Summer begins. I get a pool membership, and learn to swim underwater with my eyes open, no goggles necessary. My friends and I make plans to go to Canobie Lake Park, but they fall through. Instead, Cele offers to go with me. Kittens. Lots of kittens.

July- The months starts out great, but on the 11th, my cat Kirby falls ill. The next day, he dies. I am heartbroken by this loss, considering he is one of my best furry friends. We bury him in Lincoln, and I go swimming with my aunt's dog. When I get home, I get very sick from stress.
A week later, I go to my dad's. The day I leave, I get my period, a rare occurrence, considering the type of birth control I use. I have bad cramps all the way to Manchester. Once I am ensconced at my dad's, my sister Cele comes to kidnap me. She has an entire weekend planned, ending with our trip to Canobie Lake. On Saturday, I get to go to the ocean for the first time in twenty years. It's a lot of fun, except when I fall, and cut my leg up on some asshole rocks. And then I get sand stuck in my bathing suit. We have a picnic on the beach. That night, we go to see some fireworks at the Exeter Revolutionary War fest. We get fried dough, and watch her boyfriend almost blow his foot off with a firework. The next day, all three of us, Cele, Jonathan and I go back to the beach. Then we go to the Stratham fair. We go on rides, and eat more fried dough. I make friends with a goat and a really adorable chick named Kate.
Finally, we get to go to Canobie Lake Park, just Cele and I.  It's the coolest day ever. I ride a roller coaster with a motherfucking vertical drop. I eat funnel cake. Fucking funnel cake. Then I go back to Dad's. My period gets suddenly heavy and painful. It won't stop. In fact it doesn't stop until I return to Bellows Falls.

August- The month starts off with Old Home Days. They kind of suck. I blow almost all my money. I drink ginger limeade and eat maple cotton candy. All the town elitists, think Old Home Days is mighty successful, but it was not. I swim more and more. At the end of the month, I finally get to have a powwow. It rains, and all my shit gets soaked. I do a shawl dance and make four bucks. At the very tail end of the month I reconnect with Arthur. It is very random. We talk and talk and it feels like we had never parted, even though we hadn't heard from each other in years.

September- I go to the fair with Becca. It rains like a bitch and I freak out on the Skymaster. That weekend I have a powwow. I help light the Sacred Fire, and my parents come see me drum. It rains again. All my shit gets wet and I sleep badly. As the weeks pass, I grow closer to Arthur and start to develop feelings for him again. I try to resist, because he's in Florida. Then he comes back to VT and I can't hold that shit in anymore. I blurt out derps, and he's like let's wait till my shit's together until we do this. And even though I have to wait, I feel ridiculously happy and confused.

October- My friend Gary dies in the beginning of the month. We have a gathering, but it rains, and I cry for Gary while we drum. Talking to Arthur, and knowing I'll get to see him hold me together. The hurricane hits, and then he misses his train to come see me on Halloween. Even so, I have a fun Halloween. I take my landlady's foster daughter trick or treating. My Cutie Reaper costume looks epic. We get shit tons of candy, then I get drunk.

November- I want to see Arthur, but don't get a chance. We all go to Cele's for Thanksgiving. I get into Game of Thrones. I start to worry about Chrimbus.

December- I worry about Chrimbus. I am very stressed. I pull out my hair, and get sleep paralysis. I get to see Arthur. We spend an entire day riding the bus to Essex and back. We kiss for the first time on the bus. Afterwards, I miss him a lot. I am totally surprised by the depth and intensity of my feelings. I stress about Christmas. The world doesn't end. Christmas happens. I eat, and I drink vodka. I get some presents. I celebrate New Year's eve by going to a Chinese buffet. It's the five year anniversary of Grand Carol dying, but I don't get sad. I buy lacy underwear. The year ends. Finally.

Aftermath

In a previous entry I described being in an abusive relationship. Naturally, I didn't describe everything. There are some things that are too humiliating to share. But today, I do want to talk about the aftermath that was the disaster called Scott.

In late summer, I reconnected with an old flame I dated in 2006. I may have mentioned him before. Let's call him A. A and I have known each other since 6th grade. We didn't get along when we first met, but our feelings changed and by the time we were 17 and 18, there were sparks. But, long-distance, and other varying factors did us in, and we parted ways.
So yes, we reconnected. It was like six years had never passed. We re-cultivated a friendship, and by the end of September, had managed to develop feelings of a romantic nature for each other once again.

As we get to know each other all over again, and reforge the bonds of passion, I often find myself feeling something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder. It's not A's fault mind you, these past months he has been sweet, and understanding. Even though we are not officially in a relationship, he has treated me more kindly, and tenderly than Scott ever did in our four years together.
So you're wondering, what's going on in my head?

Scott used to get mad at me for inconsequential things. Things, that a lover who is secure in the knowledge that they are adored, would not get angry over. He did not like it when other men flirted with me, even if I ignored their attentions. He did not like it if I mentioned, or even thought about an ex-boyfriend, because he thought it meant I wanted that person back. He wanted to know what I was thinking about all the time. He wanted me to tell him everything. For four years, I was conditioned, and dare I say, brain-washed into being a good little soldier and reporting back to him every event, every thought.
So here I am. Getting involved with someone again. And old habits die hard. I feel like I have to report to A about everything I do. If somebody hits on me, I expect him to get mad. I sit on my end of our facebook conversations, flinching, expecting a verbal blow, a command, that will never come.
But he doesn't get mad. And, after four years of verbal and emotional abuse, this is surprising, and refreshing.
It's strange, figuring out how a man is supposed to treat a woman. That the things Scott was doing didn't mean he loved me, or he wanted to protect me, but that he wanted to own me, control me.
Scott's self-hatred, also exacerbated my own self-esteem problems. With him, I felt fat and ugly. I was miserable, and you could see it in my face. Sometimes, I still feel like this, even with the ego snacks I receive from A.

At the time, I was aware that my relationship was abusive, but I was unwilling to admit it. When I eventually tried to confront Scott, he denied it, and then said I treated him far worse. This counter-accusation made me shut up and endure it.
But then I was free. It was over, and it didn't have to happen again. It wasn't going to happen again.
So imagine the surprise and agony I felt when I realized that I was getting anxious, when A was giving me no reason to feel so! He's not Scott. I don't get the same sick vibes I get that I had when I met Scott for the first time. When my gut tried to warn me, and I ignored it. When I am with A, I feel happy and safe. I feel like I'm with somebody who I can ultimately trust.

After you've been in an abusive relationship, you have to learn how to trust people again. Not only that, you have to learn how to trust yourself again. That's important. If you can't trust yourself, if you can't trust your own decisions, then you're fucked. But I'm working on these issues. Some cynics would say that my feelings of anxiety are occurring because I'm making a bad decision.These people don't know me, and they don't know what I went through. No one will ever really know what it was like to be there, except me, because it was my battle. It was my fight.
Here's the thing. This time, I listened to my gut. My gut only grumbled because I wanted a sandwich. It said nothing about A. Unless he's a turkey sandwich, then in that case my gut told me he's delicious and goes good with Miracle Whip.
A lot of people ask me why I stayed with Scott for so long. I hear the blame in their voices. They act like I'm a stupid little girl, who can't make her own decisions. Fuck that noise. The abuse was NOT my fault. Maybe I should have left, but I didn't. That was a mistake, and I paid for it. At the time, I did love Scott, and I did want to make it work. Even the strongest feminist can be felled by her chemical reactions.

So sometimes, I get scared when I shouldn't. Or have a flashback to something Scott did or said. It happens. But I'm not going to let it ruin my joy. If I let bad memories sully one of the best things in my life, then ultimately, Scott wins. He would still own me. I have gotten my ovaries back, I have reclaimed the fort and I'm not going to allow myself to be treated like shit again. I deserve respect, I deserve to be happy and I deserve to have a healthy relationship.

Cemetery Review #4

I don't think we really need an introduction by now, do we?

1. Broad Street Cemetery, Claremont, NH-
Broad Street cemetery is also known as The Village Burial Ground. It is located behind the Fiske Library and the Claremont firehouse. It appears to have been founded sometime in the late 18th century. It is no longer active.
Almost all the gravestones are slate or marble. In fact, I only saw ONE granite monument! Most feature carvings of weeping willows, urns, leaves and gravestones (an etching of a grave, on a grave, how very meta!), but there are also some soul effigies, and some very interesting geometric designs and sunbursts. I didn't get to see all the graves, but I read a few interesting epitaphs, one of which belonged to a man who 'died of a burn'.
As with any old cemetery, there were several broken gravestones. Otherwise, Broad Street cemetery is in very good condition, with well-kept grounds, and mostly legible stones.
I did not experience anything paranormal in this cemetery and do not have any reason to believe that it might be haunted.
If you enjoy local history, old slate gravestones and local folk art, I would highly recommend Broad Street Cemetery. The geometric sunbursts and leaves are worth a trip, seeing as I've never seen them in any other cemetery.

2. Sacred Heart Cemetery, Bellows Falls/Westminster, VT-
Sacred Heart is a small Polish Catholic cemetery that is still active. It is on Cemetery Road, and is adjacent to St. Charles Cemetery and the high school. In fact, you can hear the school's intercom and bells from the cemetery!
The cemetery dates from the late 1920's. In fact,the earliest graves all date from 1928. The majority of early graves have Polish epitaphs. Most monuments are made from granite and cement, but there are also some marble ones.
The majority of the carvings and statues are religious in nature. There are a lot of crosses, and carvings of Jesus, Mary and the saints. There are also several gorgeous statues of the Virgin Mary, as well as lambs, and a very large monument with a statue featuring a child sitting by the holy cross.
Sacred Heart is in excellent condition. The grounds are very well kept, and ALL the gravestones were intact! There weren't any broken or damaged graves!
I do not think Sacred Heart is haunted, though I did feel uneasy a couple of times. That may have been because I was so close to the high school, though.
This is a beautiful well-kept cemetery. I was very impressed.

3. St. Charles Cemetery, Bellows Falls/Westminster, VT-
St Charles is a moderately sized Catholic cemetery next to Sacred Heart. It appears to have been found in either the late 19th century or the early 20th. It is still very active. When I visited it had three fresh graves.
Most of the monuments are made of granite and marble. There are several made of concrete. There are a lot of large crosses and two beautiful statues. The newer gravestones have very interesting etchings, some of which are very colorful. There are also a few interesting epitaphs, some of which were in foreign languages. It had less religious iconography than Sacred Heart did.
Like Sacred Heart, Saint Charles is in excellent condition. The grounds are well-kept, and I saw only two broken gravestones, and one illegible one. My favorite grave had a statue of a woman mourning by the cross.
I do not think St. Charles had any paranormal activity. It was a very calm, peaceful place, and I did not feel unwelcome. All in all, I was very pleased with this cemetery. If it hadn't been raining, I would have looked at more.