Janet Morris


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.


Before Christmas, my mom said that she had a sinus infection, so I knew that I, at some point, would also have a sinus infection. I know that they aren’t supposed to be contagious, but my immune system has yet to figure that out. Well, a couple of days after Christmas, it finally showed up. It seemed to be really nasty on Tuesday, almost gone on Wednesday, and back by Thursday. But when I woke up on Friday morning, I knew something was horribly off. I was coughing more than I usually do, which is pretty amazing considering that I cough on a daily basis. My left eye was runny. At first I thought it was just tears from the pressure of the infection, until I decided to wipe my eye with a facial tissue.12 It wasn’t tears. It was pus. As the night went on, my eye kept getting more red. My cough was also increasing and I was starting to have trouble breathing.3 I went to bed and was trying to get comfortable but I just couldn’t breathe. Eventually, I called the on-call doctor and she told me to get my butt to the ER for a breathing treatment. Unfortunately, getting to the ER at about 4:30 in the morning is not the best way to get quick treatment. Most of the ER shuts down after midnight until 8 in the morning, even on the last weekend of the year. I was triaged quickly and had an X-ray, blood work, and EKG hours before a bed was available for my butt. I waited around 4 hours for that bed and my breathing just kept feeling like it was getting worse; my eye was also getting more nasty by the minute. Oh, and my infamous cough was starting to scare everyone in the waiting room. When I first got to the ER, one or two people had on masks. By the time I was called back to a room, almost everyone had one on. I honestly started to empathize with Typhoid Mary at that point. It’s odd to be treated like a biohazard when you can’t breathe. After the sun came out and the television had gone from infomercials & overnight news to Saturday morning children’s programs, I was called back to a room. It was another hour before I had my breathing treatment, and another hour after that before the doctor could secure the “eye room” to do a proper examination of my eye. He4 wasn’t sure if the conjunctivitis had caused any lasting damage to my eye, so he wanted to view it under a slit lamp. The room was empty and across the hall, so I’m not totally sure why it took so long or why, after it was over, I wasn’t allowed to just walk right back across the hall to my assigned bed. While I was in the eye room, the nurse brought me three 20mg prednisone tablets. She kept asking later if the steroids were helping. I kept responding that I couldn’t tell if the steroid was working, but that I knew that the breathing treatment had helped. By noon, I was being discharged with a diagnosis of conjunctivitis and bronchitis. I also had a prescription for the ophthalmic version of Neosporin ointment.5 I didn’t have any prescriptions for the bronchitis. I guess that they thought they had done enough to help get that under control.6 Since it was a holiday weekend, I couldn’t get in to see the family doctor until at least Tuesday, so I was trying desperately to make it through without going to the hospital again. There were a few times when I didn’t think I would make it. But I did. Instead of getting a Tuesday appointment, I got a Wednesday one and the family doctor, who I don’t always agree with, agreed with my belief that the Emergency Room doctor should have given me a prescription for another 4 days worth of prednisone. Because it had been five days since the initial dose, he had to start me on a new 5 day course of the drug. He also told me to use my inhaler regularly until I was feeling better. I’ve spent most of the last week just trying to pass the time. I’ve been avoiding social media and anything that required any real energy usage. I became even more of a recluse with a sad, unfulfilling life7 and a penchant for tantrums89 while I was recovering. Kidding.10 Fancy talk for a Kleenex. ↩Really fancy talk for a Kleenex from a Star Wars box. ↩No, I don’t always have trouble breathing when I cough. I cough like healthy people do healthy stuff. Cough variant asthma is the funnest. ↩Yeah, I never got to see the on-call doctor I had talked to on the phone. ↩No, really. ↩They hadn’t. ↩Did I mention that that creep has a reference to me in his Twitter bio? ↩Oh, he had more words for me after I turned down his altruistic offer of a possible book deal: I tried at least. BTW, I’ve been a pro writer since 1983. You have no idea how much damage you’ve done to your writing career before it even got started. No agent, no publisher, will want to deal with someone who intends to damage another writer’s sales over a disagreement on social media. They’d be too worried you would do the same to them if you ever got mad at them. Easier to give you a form rejection and move on. And trust me, this little tantrum you threw on Goodreads is going to be seen by every agent and publisher you submit to when they Google your name. Good luck with your career. I think you’re going to need it. Yep. Now he wants me to be afraid that I will never be published because I didn’t take kindly to his insults and his tacit support of a friend’s outright bigotry. ↩It takes chutzpah to say a woman would be a […]

From My Sinuses, With Love


Well, Richard Paolinelli decided to offer me a shot at being published by his company because he’s determined that I have a sad, unfulfilling life. He probably won’t understand why I rejected his condescending, passive-aggressive offer, even though I think I explained it pretty well: That’s an interesting telling of this tale, Richard. I was the one who had been insulted and attacked on Twitter. After I wrote a tweet that he didn’t agree with, he said I was a man, he said I was incapable of thinking, etc. He had repeatedly called me names and had made racist & sexist remarks toward a friend of mine. I pointed this out to you and you started making sexist remarks toward me. No, I didn’t respect your friend after he began harassing me. No length of time in the military excuses harassment. I don’t know anyone by the name of Johnny Walker and I don’t have troll accounts. I did put you on a will-not-read and my author-boycott lists, but that shouldn’t bother you. (It also shouldn’t bother you that Anne Rice or Brad Thor is on that list, and I won’t explain why any of them are on the list because it’s not your business. Just know that I keep that list so that I personally know which authors I don’t want to read.) You had already said that you didn’t want me or my friends to read any of your work. I would love to know who your fellow author-friends are, especially if they’re making determinations about my life that are obviously very flawed. One could say that maybe the reason that I’m so busy is that I design jewelry and am the sole caregiver to a mother with kidney failure and a father with dementia, but that would require one to actually put forth a little more effort than just reading a years-old bio on Goodreads. I don’t care that you pity me. I don’t want to have a hand-up or a hand-out from you because I don’t trust you. You have done nothing to make me think that you’ll actually help. If/when I decide to finish my books and try to get an agent and a publisher, then I want to do it on my own. P.S.: It’s Alabamian, not Alabaman. I also posted this on Goodreads:  I didn’t realize that it was consider “trolling” to have a will-not-read or an author-boycott shelf on Goodreads. Here I thought it was my way of keeping track of the books that I will not read and the authors that I will not read. Apparently a particular author who I recently added to that list decided to label it as such and accused me of giving him fake 1-star reviews. (I didn’t rate any of the books.) I really don’t get why he thinks it’s any of his business who is on my will-not-read and author-boycott lists. Whether he’s on the lists or someone else in on the list, it really isn’t his concern. Also, most authors know that it’s not the best idea to publicly balk at being on a person’s author-boycott or will-not-read list. That tends to lead to more people adding you to their lists and to weird scandals a la Kathleen Hale’s reverse Misery stunt. I never give fake reviews. I used one book to explain why I was adding him to the list. I didn’t rate the book because I haven’t read the book in whole or in part. (I’ve been nervous about rating books that I marked as will-not-finish because I don’t want to give a fake rating.) I’ve seen some authors who think that any review under 4-5 stars is fake. That’s not true. Some people just don’t like your books. People are entitled to opinions about your works. They don’t have to be positive ones. And they are entitled to share those opinions with their friends and family members…and total strangers. And a person can like some of your books and still decide to boycott you. Books by Charlaine Harris that I haven’t read are marked as will-not-read. Books by her that I have and have not read are marked as author-boycott because I chose to quit reading her books. That’s a right that I have as a reader and as a consumer. I get to decide how I spend my money and my time. If an author doesn’t like being on that list, then they probably should just avoid looking at the list. I really wish that authors who behave badly would stop pretending like they’re victims when readers say that they want nothing to do with them anymore.

Poor Richard’s Attitude



1
Escaping Infinity by Richard Paolinelli Mr. Paolinelli is now on my author boycott list because he has made sexist remarks on social media and has supported others who have made remarks that are sexist, racist, transphobic, and ableist. He justifies this by saying that liberals are the real intolerant ones, but he told me “hush, dear, men are talking” when I pointed out that he was defending a bigot. He doesn’t want anyone who opposes these forms of bigotry to buy his books. If you oppose bigotry against marginalized groups, you might want to avoid the books; especially since Richard doesn’t want you to read them. Does he honestly think women don’t read sci-fi/fantasy novels? Or that they don’t have friends who also read them? And I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t be reading anything I write anyway, so I’m not really that worried about losing the zero amount of dollars you were ever going to spend on my books. So, to sum up, sod off and take your silly friends with you. — An Eclectic Scribe: Richard Paolinelli (@ScribesShade) December 26, 2017 Go read my profile again. Then slide over to the about me page on my website. I’ve already had my career, dear, I don’t need a penny of you or your friends’ money. Enjoy that hate-filled thing you call a life and quit wasting my time, child. @CaptainSmirk2 — An Eclectic Scribe: Richard Paolinelli (@ScribesShade) December 26, 2017 Sure, sure. No sexism here. pic.twitter.com/L0xWW7HJLc — Janet Morris (@janersm) December 26, 2017 View all my reviews TBH, I was just waiting for her to finally respond to me so I could drop the “hush dear” line on her. It’s a little experiment I’m running, gauging the different reactions I get when I use it. — An Eclectic Scribe: Richard Paolinelli (@ScribesShade) December 26, 2017   He also made these lovely remarks: She seems like the kind of girl you’d take home to mama… only so mama will get off your back about your real girlfriend. 🧐 — An Eclectic Scribe: Richard Paolinelli (@ScribesShade) December 26, 2017 Marked as will-not-read: Escaping Infinity by Richard Paolinelli https://t.co/yv6RUXCAtF — Janet Morris (@janersm) December 26, 2017

Oops…I did it again. A “friend” on Twitter didn’t like my response to someone who said that a man was someone with a functioning penis. The friend shouldn’t have been surprised that I was thinking in literal terms. I’m almost always thinking that way. It’s part of why people think I’m ditzy/stupid. My brain goes for the literal option not thinking. Anyways… The “friend” decided to try convincing me that I’m wrong.1 She decided quote-tweeting was the best way to do so. Normally I’m a fan of quote tweets because they can be a great tool. But when you have 6k followers and some are known to harass people for months on end, it’s not a good choice. But she did it anyway. Then, when I wouldn’t budge, she was like, “I can’t change your mind and I don’t want to upset you.” She (naively?) thought that would stop any problems. Well, it didn’t and that’s how Meghan Murphy, a verified user and a supposed feminist with a 12.7k follower list, decided to try to embarrass me with out of context tweets from a month ago.2 That encouraged her followers to do the same, which means my mentions will be unpleasant for a long time to come. It also means I have new strangers declaring that I’m a dude because I don’t agree with Meghan or them. Because all women stick together or they get to be subjected to some Mean Girls bullshit. I almost want to tell these people that their behaviors are just like those of that hate mob in 2014; the one that said I couldn’t be a woman because real women who are obese have huge boobs. It’s also the behavior of a guy who said I probably had a deformed ass. These guys were not progressive. They weren’t feminists. They weren’t even fairly conservative. They were misogynistic douchenuggets who reveled in bullying women who refused to confirm to their narrow-minded ways. Kind of like this group of women.   They think being blocked makes them special. Oh, honey, no. It you’re one of 409,003 people I decided not to talk to on Twitter, you aren’t special. You just suck. Many people I have blocked are bigots.3 Yeah, I have a shit ton of TERFs blocked.4 I also have a shit ton of people who identify as “NatSoc” or members of the KKK blocked.5 It isn’t a cool/intimidating people list. It’s a blocklist. Anyways… Because they think the blocklist means that I’m a scared dude  who hates women, they participate in this degrading mob mentality. It is twisted & it makes me thankful for the blocklist. I would rather they come after me than anyone who is transgender/non-binary, but it they want to insult me, they need to come up with a less pitiful and completely non-transphobic stereotype. This shit is getting old. Yeah, she expected to change the mind of the girl who was once told that “you would argue the sky was green” if someone tried forcing you to believe it’s blue. ↩A tweet she didn’t think was worthy of harassing me over a month ago. When. She. Received. It. ↩Because they suck. ↩Because they suck. ↩Because they suck. ↩

Must Be the Pussy



It’s that time of year again. Time for the Holiday_Wishes Meme. Yay! STEP ONE – Make a post (public, friendslocked, filtered…whatever you’re comfortable with) to your blog/LJ. The post should contain your list of 10 holiday wishes. The wishes can be anything at all, from simple and fandom-related (“I’d love a Snape/Hermione icon that’s just for me”) to medium (“I wish for _____ on DVD”) to really big (“All I want for Christmas is a new car/computer/house/TV.”) The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want. – If you wish for real life things (not fics or icons), make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it’s your address or just your email address where Santa (or one of his elves) could get in touch with you. [Note: Your home address is not required!] – Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your blog, or link to this post (it’ll be public) so that the holiday joy will spread. STEP TWO – Surf around your friendslist/links (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here’s the important part: – If you see a wish you can grant, and it’s in your heart to do so, make someone’s wish come true. Sometimes someone’s trash is another’s treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don’t want or a gift certificate you won’t use–or even know where you could fulfill a wish for someone–do it. You needn’t spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn’t to put people out, it’s to provide everyone a chance to be someone else’s holiday elf–to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not–it’s your call. There are no guarantees with this project, and no strings attached. Just…wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you’ll have the joy of knowing you made someone’s holiday special. 1. A ring that says love in cursive. I had one and lost it while I was in the grocery store a few weeks ago. It was the only ring I’d ever regularly worn. My parents had bought it for me for Christmas years ago. 2. Donations to AARDA, Alzheimer’s Association, Planned Parenthood, Pro Publica, & RAINN. 3. Cosmetics that don’t contain nickel. I love wearing makeup, but I have figured out that my super-sensitive skin is picky about makeup that contains nickel and other metals. 4. A makeup bag. I go to the gym, and I would like to take my makeup with me, but all I have to put it in is my purse. 5. Surprise me. 6. To have better sales in my jewelry and accessory business Silver Sky by Janet. If you can’t afford anything, just sharing the link to my store or sharing posts & following on social media (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter) would be helpful. 7. Jewelry and accessory supplies. Beads, fold-over elastic, buttons, lace, jewelry makings, wire, leather/suede, fabric, perler beads, etc. 8. A professional-looking website for my jewelry and accessory brand. I would love to not have to redirect my domain for the store to Etsy, but my website designing skills have just gone South. 9. Anything from my Amazon.com wishlist. Seriously. Anything. 10. Gift cards to Fire Mountain Gems, Etsy, and Torrid. ALLERGIES: Caffeine, Nickel, Orange Juice, Peanuts, Raw Onions/Alliums

Holiday Wishes Meme: 2017


Having grown up in Alabama, I understand that bigots will go to extraordinary lengths to justify their rage and their hate. When I have supported groups like Black Lives Matter, I have been accused of only having sex with black men. When I supported marriage equality, I was labeled a lesbian. So I guess that it makes sense that my support of rights for transgender/non-binary people means that, drumroll please, I am a man. No, you didn’t read that wrong. In the middle of the night last night, a stranger accused me of having male privilege. I cackled as I read it. Who knew that I’m a dude?! I would have expected my parents or my gynecologists over the years to have told me if I was a dude. I’m especially disappointed that the gynecologist who performed the hysteroscopy/uterine biopsy and D&C didn’t say, “Uh. This procedure can’t be performed on you.” My family and doctors didn’t call me a dude because… I’m not one. Whether you subscribe to trans-exclusionary feminism’s1 reductive view of gender as being based on body parts or the inclusive view I subscribe to that admits gender & sex are not one in the same, this conclusion that I have male privilege makes no sense. I don’t have the body parts of a dude. I don’t feel I am a dude. Therefore: A dude I am not. In case you can’t speak Yoda, let’s try the standard English: I’m not a dude/man/guy/boy/male. I doubt I can put it any more clearly than that, but I’m sure that that won’t satisfy some of these individuals. Calling me a guy because I disagree with what you feel a woman should believe is as hysterical as it is sad. But it’s not the first time that a TERF has gone this route. I would bet that if any woman spends any length of time debating them or disagreeing with them that TERFs would start questioning their biological sex. Or if they don’t question the sex of the person, they start saying that she is somehow incapable of thinking for herself and that men must have brainwashed her. The internalized misogyny is strong with TERFs. How are they “liberating” women2 by denigrating women that don’t agree with them and suggesting that they are somehow unable to use their cognitive processes to come to their own opinions? It’s almost like their own version of a savior complex. They feel the need to “rescue” the poor little women who disagree with them from making informed decisions about their own lives and making conclusions about the things that they believe based on their own experiences. That’s not liberation. That’s oppression. You can’t replace one form of oppressive system with another. That just doesn’t work. Or, more correctly, it doesn’t actually liberate anyone. Also, misrepresenting what people say so that you can perpetuate hatred and encourage a pile-on is not the action of those intent on liberating. The original angst fest by this “liberation” force began after I defended a male friend on Twitter after a female follower of mine said something about him being harmful because he uses the term TERF to describe people who are, well, TERFs. This was the tweet that was being responded to: It’s becoming blatantly obvious where the adage “separate the artist from the art” came from, and we probably should stop using it. — Soyter Krampus 🔑 (@petercoffin) November 5, 2017 I cannot share the text of the tweet that I responded to as the user was reported3 to Twitter several tweets later for threatening to dox multiple individuals. But it is the threat to dox that alarmed me so much about this particular group of TERFs. I tried pointing out what was going on to Helen, which led to the response4 by Juniper that I have male privilege. Helen and other TERFs had insisted that their ilk couldn’t be behind the doxing threats or the ableism, racism, and other vitriol that I had seen while conversing with them. When Juniper came along, she decided that my outrage was due to my either having a penis or a feeling that I should have one. I’m really not sure how a person who has never been a man and who never wanted to be a man somehow has male privilege, so I asked. I think one of the reasons is because you stated that you would fight to get a man who posts picture after picture of his come covered cock into safe spaces for women and girls because he says the magic words ‘I am a woman’. — helen staniland (@helenstaniland) December 2, 2017 The tweets that Helen was referencing were from a different Twitter user who had offended her sensibilities by posting, on her own timeline, nude pictures and video. Helen encouraged a mob of individuals to report Meisha, even though Meisha’s posts do not violate the Twitter rules. She had already given me a hard time for pointing out to another individual that reporting Meisha would only lead to that person being punished by Twitter. No. women don’t post pictures of their come covered flaccid cock. What mental gymnastics do you have to go through to tell yourself he’s a woman? Would you fight for him to be in spaces with women and girls? — helen staniland (@helenstaniland) December 1, 2017 When Helen had discovered the tweet she dislikes so, she had made sure that all of her followers could join in on her hate. Anyone who didn’t had to be shamed. I just didn’t want to play that game with her, so she went full-on with the faux outrage against me and even challenged my gender and biological sex because I supported a person who she didn’t like & who she was simply using to gain prominence amongst her TERFy peers.5 I was familiar with her technique because of the past disagreements with her,6 so I told her to leave me alone. Repeatedly. She thought […]

I’m A Guy?



To say that I’m a Kate Winslet fan would be putting it mildly. After Titanic‘s release, I began one of my first full-on obsessions where I’d buy or rent all the movies she had been in and watch every interview. It’s something I’ve done with a lot of celebs, though most I eventually get over. Kate is one of the few who I still adore. I feel similarly about her costar in Wonder Wheel, Justin Timberlake. I was (and still am) a huge fan of his. I loved him on MMC. I favored *NSYNC to the Backstreet Boys. I bought his first album, his second album, etc. I contemplated using Napster to get some of his music back before he played Sean Parker in The Social Network. I’ve seen most of his movies. At different points in my life, I’ve had fan sites for both Justin and Kate. I used to write RPF1 about Justin and *NSYNC. These are individuals I adore. The writer and director for their latest movie isn’t. To steal a term from the BDSM world, Woody Allen is a hard limit for me. I’ve seen one of his films,2 which I hadn’t noticed was his before I watched it.3 I can’t separate Allen’s work from the child sexual abuse allegations and from his bizarre choice to marry his former girlfriend’s adopted daughter. These are not actions I want to endorse, which is what I would feel I was doing if I watched the films. I can’t watch my all-time favorite actress or one of my favorite musicians act together because the person making the film is a schmuck. And a part of me is kinda fucking pissed that they’ve both acted like working with him was not wrong or completely disgusting. I’ve felt that outrage with other faves, i.e. when Kristen Stewart not only acted in his film, but tried to excuse the behavior. I can’t condemn people like Roy Moore or Donald Trump for being sexual predators if I’m not going to condemn people like Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, R. Kelly, Harvey Weinstein, etc. I can’t pretend to have an ethical standard then abandon it when following the standard gets a little difficult. I have to apply it to the people who I like it I apply it to the ones I don’t. Otherwise, it’s meaningless. Wait. No, it isn’t meaningless. It just doesn’t mean what I want it to mean. It warps that standard into something tragic, vicious, and crude. It becomes hypocrisy.  I cannot be part of a system that gives abusers and racists a slap on the wrist, then wring my hands over what message is sent by that lack of punishment. I cannot pretend that it is okay to be watching a movie by a person I know is abusive. I can’t act like my money and my time aren’t essentially endorsing rape or abuse if I watch Wonder Wheel or any other movie or television show, so I won’t try to do so.  Photo by GabboT on Visualhunt / CC BY-SA real people fiction ↩Match Point ↩I still feel guilty over watching it years later. ↩

The Ethical Standards of a Fangirl


The past week has been rough. Seeing political leaders in my state make excuse after excuse for Roy Moore has made me want to scream. Seeing people I know in real life dismiss the claims has made me want to cry. Seeing “conservatives” attack the character of victims has been disgusting. Seeing “liberals” talk about how my state is a festering limb ready to be amputated or how we should be targeted with nuclear strikes because of the reactions by some residents has been infuriating. It’s just been overwhelming.  I believe the accusers.1 That should not be shocking. I try to always believe the accusers, even if it’s someone I (once) adored or respected.2 I’m not going to go into specifics, but the whole idea that it’s a conspiracy against Moore is just pretty irrational. There is no conspiracy by the left or by the “GOP establishment” to malign him. If anyone just wanted to discredit the man, they needn’t make up sexual abuse allegations. His career is enough for most reasonable people to determine he’s not qualified.   I don’t like Roy Moore. I never have. I never will. He’s not someone I think deserves respect. He definitely shouldn’t hold a public office of any sort. I thought that before these allegations because I’m familiar with how abusive he can be when holding office. I don’t believe people who have a history of violating constitutional rights and who want to turn the country into a theocracy are fit for public office. I don’t really understand why there have been so many concern trolls from out of state trying to tell me how wonderful Moore is. They don’t even know the first thing about him. They just view this as an attack on their principles. And I just cringe because I know how horrific his principles are, so I have to hope they really don’t share them because the alternative is, well, horrific.  This is not a left vs right issue. It’s an issue of wrong vs right. Most people understand this. Many of Moore’s biggest critics have been Republicans, as have the accusers, so this idea that it’s Democrats plotting against him just underscores how out of touch his supporters are when it comes to politics and to acceptable human behavior. How can it be controversial or overtly political to oppose child abuse?  I don’t know how anyone could think a person accused of sexually abusing, harassing, and stalking teenage girls belongs in the Senate. That just completely baffles me. And I can’t see any political issue being important enough that it would justify a vote for someone so vile. What issue could make it okay to vote for someone accused of abusing kids?  Listening to the stories of the women and hearing the reactions by people across the aisle has just made it difficult as a child sexual abuse survivor to deal. It’s everywhere I look, and it triggers my obsessive tendencies to seek out more about the story. That just leads to more stress which leads to unhealthy coping techniques. I had gone a week-and-a-half without chocolate when the story broke. Within two days, I had started on a chocolate binge and I’ll have to work myself back off the candy. I know that sounds like a ridiculous thing to blame on this story, but it’s the reality.  And when I see people choosing to dismiss the allegations because they were from decades ago, it makes me think that they would not believe me or any of other survivors that wait years before talking about it—if they ever do. It makes the world feel more frightening and foreign. It makes me feel alone. Every time they tear down an accuser because she’s not perfect, it makes me feel like they won’t believe any survivor. It’s just a lot to deal with and sometimes I just want to scream until my throat is raw because I know these reactions by his defenders are harmful and wrong, and I hate them for making recovering from the trauma of sexual violence that much harder. I just have to figure out how to deal with this story and allo its dredging up. I don’t see it going away any time soon. I have to hope that my state will do the right thing in the end.  Have I just agreed with Mirch McConnell? The end must be nigh. ↩Al Franken. ↩

#NoMoore



A couple of weeks ago, I had to see my rheumatologist. I was past due for my annual visit where he would normally tell me how I was a waste of time for him. He didn’t say that this time. Instead, he was focused on my lab results from last year.  These were results that had “positive”1 results for scleroderma-70, ANA, and SSA-Ro, or as the rheumatologist called them, “the lupus test.” No, I don’t have lupus…yet. He said I may never develop it or several other autoimmune diseases. He did say that I definitely have Sjögren’s syndrome. It’s not the first time he has said that, but it has been a while since he last diagnosed me with that.  Part of me knows not to trust that that’s the diagnosis, since he’s changed his mind before, but it’s still kinda scary. When you’re the grandchild of someone who died from complications of a disease, it’s hard to deal with getting that diagnosis. Mamama had 2 children, 3 grandchildren, and 4 great grandchildren, but I’m the one who drew the short straw in getting this problem. I want to ask why, and I want to scream and say it isn’t fair, but I don’t want another relative to have it. I don’t want them to suffer, but I feel selfish because I don’t want to have it either.  I want to cry.  I want to scream.  I want to know why I’m the one who gets the potentially fatal diseases.  Does being angry & sad make me a bad person? Does it mean I’m too whiny? Do I have a right to be upset? Any result that indicates someone could have a life-threatening or life-changing disease should not be considered positive. ↩

Eyes So Dry


If you followed my Twitter account or my Facebook profile during the 2016 election, you may have learned that a guy I had a crush on in high school is a huge Trump fan. You might know that Richie and I got into skirmish after skirmish over political and social issues. He would randomly post on things and say rather cruel things to me. He would encourage friends of his to do the same. You might know that I eventually blocked him.  In high school, I liked another guy a lot more than I liked Richie. From early in tenth grade until sometime in college, I was convinced that I was in love with John Allen. I even blogged about him all those years ago. John Allen was a pothead at the time and thought it would be hilarious if I ever got drunk. He never saw me drunk.1  After I quit high school, I sent him a sort of love letter in a birthday card for his seventeenth birthday. I confessed my feelings in it. I gave him an ultimatum: we either date or the friendship was over. For almost two years, we’d confessed a lot of our secrets and stressors to each other, but he would also talk about his relationships in front of me. I thought he must not know how I felt before the letter. It wasn’t like I wrote him notes every day and apologized profusely on the days when he’d show up to class & there’d be no note.2 I’m sure I flirted without subtlety.3  Anyway, when I never heard back after the letter, I tried to move on. It took a while and I finally did. When Facebook came into existence, I looked for him. After Matt died, I found him on Facebook and we were finally  “friends” again.4 I realized friends was all we’d ever be. And I was thankful it had never been more.  Now, I’m doubly thankful because I stumbled onto this. I was looking for something totally different, but I knew as soon as I read it that it was him. What a douche.  I told my mom that I realized now that teenage me had bad taste. She said she’d known that for years. That’s when she told me that that’s why she didn’t push me to start dating as a teenager. She knew I’d pick someone who could either hurt me emotionally or in some other way. I get why she didn’t tell me back then. I would have probably more actively pursued a harmful relationship.  I always knew teenage me would a been a bit on the slutty side, but now I think I would have been reckless. I just needed to grow up and get perspective.  I’ve never been drunk. ↩He never wrote one for me. He did write half a page in my 10th grade yearbook & he said he kept every note I wrote him. ↩I may be shy, but when I’m into someone I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. ↩Until he got married and deleted the account. ↩

This Is Why I Didn’t Encourage Teenage You to Date