Darren Endymion's Blog, page 4

Election Anxiety

Note: I don’t normally do politics (unless they happened hundreds of years ago), but this is too much. I must get it out.

Tomorrow the madness shall end. Tomorrow we will elect the first female president or we will have an angry orange snozzwanger as the leader of this nation.

What scares me the most is that there is potential, however fleeting, that Donald Trump will be elected president of the United States. He’s a bigot, a racist, he has absolutely no plans for the nation, he is triggered by the smallest of things, he promises change without ever knowing what it would take to make those things happen, he’s a misogynist, he brags about assaulting women, he’s insulting, and he’s in all other ways unfit to lead the country. In fact, that rabid chicken hawk shouldn’t lead so much as a dead duck across the road with string and a police escort.

Look, I know that America has its problems. I know that. The irony is that so many of these issues are personified by Trump himself. And the worst of the worst are the ones who are voting for him — uneducated, angry white men, mostly. Regrettably, my own father is one of these Trump supporters, despite having a gay son and a gay daughter. He loves us and we love him, but this decision is something that scares us and makes our skin crawl — something we have learned not to discuss with him. The worst part? My gay uncle supports Trump, too. Poor, confused things.

Most Trump supporters seem to think that, if elected, Trumpy Potter will wave his magic wand and give them better jobs, lighter taxes, and change the US into the mufukin’ Emerald City, only without gays or minorities. In this pipe dream of bigotry, we will all live in emerald-encrusted houses with jeweled furniture on a road not of yellow brick, but rather of solid gold. The slightest look at his financial plans show that only the rich will benefit…namely him.

As a people, as a civilized nation, we have given in to such anger and disappointment and a sense of us and them that we have allowed Trump to rise like a garbage phoenix from a compost heap. While some of us try to evolve and change, Trump and the Republicans who gave rise to him are stuck in the 1950s. No gays, no minorities, no challenge to their need to regress, or at the very least, to stand still.

Watching and listening to Trump, I’m reminded of another time in history. A small, petty man craved power and he knew that the best way to get that power, to turn the population to him, was to use the very astute ploy of giving the people a common enemy to unite them. Unite them under him, of course. He did that, steadily building on preexisting anger and economic inequality, and steadily rose from little more than a joke to a tyrant…and Nazi Germany was born. Germany in the late 1930s was a civilized nation. Nobody thought that they would ever come to that, certainly not to the ghastly, unforgivable ends it did. Yet it happened.

Studying history, we say that this could never happen today. Yet it does. Rwanda. Khmer Rouge. The rhetoric is the same — us against Them. It’s Their fault that everything is terrible. If only They would go away. Gods know that Hillary Clinton has her flaws, but she is sane. She is qualified, sane, intelligent, capable, hard working, and sympathetic. Best of all, she’s not likely to institute a nationwide Hunger Games because someone Tweeted something she didn’t like. I certainly couldn’t compete and I’m positive that I would look awful in a pink wig. I’ll choose sanity over living in District 7, thank you.

I pray and hope with all my being that tomorrow, on Election Day we as a nation say that we will not degrade ourselves and others, that we will fight against bigotry and anger. I think we will. I hope we will. Because the alternative is too dire to think about.

Lack of Misery is Not Happiness

When we make major changes in life, it’s rare that we can look back on one single day and say, “That right there. That’s when things started to change.” Well, barring any trauma or being bitten by a radioactive spider. (I’d take the latter, thank you, assuming telekinesis and telepathy are out.) Then there are days you hope are the start of something new.

This week I have done some things I have been putting off for months. I took out some old boxes, I sent my first novel to my favorite editor to see if we need to do a re-edit, I responded to her amused hyperventilating at the length of the novel (it is a behemoth for the genre), I began taking inventory of my remaining totes and boxes, I pulled out an old synopsis and some written work to see where things lie with it and how it compares to my current stuff, I’ve finished a reading project that has been thwarting me, and I even managed to dust off some old Netflix DVDs I have had for over half a year. (Don’t judge me!)

With the move happening after over three years of wanting it and being in a really horrible situation, I think I just sort of turned to jelly. I did the barest minimum and fell back into some old habits. However, they were habits without the pain. I am relaxed, calm, and happy.

Life had been so miserable for so long that with the removal of those negative stimuli, the base of my life was essentially pulled out from under me. What I was left with were the habits, but no life for them to stand on. In fact, one of my coworkers told me this week that she was glad to hear that I was so much happier. She said that, though nobody else seemed to notice, she saw how unhappy I was and how bad it was wearing on me. She did sit right next to me and we went to lunch together every day, but I did the same with two other people and they didn’t seem to notice a damn thing.

Whatever it was, this week has seen some pretty good changes. I hope they are going to last and lead to better things. Sure, I’m not miserable anymore, but a lack of misery is not the same as happiness. It’s time to break out of old habits that were in place because they protected me and find new ones that fulfill me.

Halloween, a Modern Take on an Ancient Holiday

Halloween or Samhain is traditionally the one night of the year when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. This means that the dead are closer to our world and that the living and the dead can communicate better than at any other time.

Does this mean that one should hold a séance or get a Ouija board to contact the dead? No, and you can take that Ouija board, sunder it in two, and insert it rectally, jagged edges pointed toward your inner linings. Those things are no joke. It’s like calling a random number in a town half full of serial killers, and giving your address to whoever picks up…and leaving your door unlocked for them to just come in.

What it means is that you can honor your loved ones who are no longer with you, talk to them, make peace or visit with them again. Even if you don’t believe all that, or truly believe that your loved ones have moved on, talking out your feelings of loss or gratitude or love can be therapeutic. The costumes were meant, among other things, to scare away the bad spirits that roam the earth at these times, or to render yourself unrecognizable so that they cannot find and torture you.

Samhain’s origins pre-date Christianity as a Celtic festival to celebrate the end of the harvest. Another thing Halloween stands for is the end of summer, the beginning of the dark half of the year, and the final harvest. Many people — pagans, New Age, neo-pagans, spiritually eclectic people — now see this as a time of death, but good death. Death means change, and end to the old way of life or of doing things. Since Halloween or Samhain is so closely linked with those who have passed on, the death of summer, and the nearness of death to our conscious and subconscious minds, people will often use this time to bring about the death of the self.

Again, we are not talking about literal death, but rather the death of the unwanted parts of ourselves. Think of it like a New Year’s resolution period where, instead of making positive affirmations (I want a better body, I want to start saving, I want to find a boyfriend, etc.) you cast off the shackles of what is keeping you where you are. It’s almost like a Reverse or Negative New Year. Instead of the previous examples, you cast things off, things you want to get rid of.

Some people will write what they want to get rid of on a piece of paper and then burn it, tear it up, soak it in water and throw it away, whatever. It’s the act of destroying these negative things, sending them into the abyss that is supposed to be both magickal and a spiritual, a mental severing of your bad habits. You may write things you want to get rid of like: 10 extra pounds, the compulsion to overeat, procrastination, greed, excessive spending, sexual indiscretion, ill health, etc. (No, you can’t get rid of Donald Trump this way. If only.)

Again, even if you believe Halloween is nothing but a modern holiday to eat candy, dress up like some variety of hooker (this goes for both males and females), party, and/or watch scary movies, why not write a few things you want to get rid of on a piece of paper? The self-examination and act of ridding yourself of these things can’t do any harm, and it just might help.

Halloween Draws Nigh

As I write this, half-watching The Amityville Horror (the original, of course. Don’t insult me by thinking I would be into that remake trash someone shat out several years ago.), I can say that I’m finally into the Halloween spirit…just as it’s about to end. This has been strange time for me, but I’m enjoying it overall. It’s certainly better than where I was.

I love the rain here, but I have allowed it to slow me down as far as exploration and, well, everything. I found out today that this has been the third rainiest October on record for this area, and there are still four days left in the month. It does lend a great air to the season, but when you come from a land with no rain and have little experience with it, it does play into your natural tendency to let any moisture falling from the sky stop you from doing things. What I need is some good raingear that will keep me dry and warm and then there will be nothing to stop me.

I look up at the hill beyond my apartment, and it looks like it houses the Spirit of Autumn itself, like it’s where the Great Pumpkin rises up and starts his journey to disappoint Linus. It’s all green and yellow and orange and red, like Mother Nature has taken a brush and set fire to the hills. The tree outside of my room is full of yellow and green leaves, though some of the yellow leaves are starting to turn red at the tips and through the center. It could be Haddonfield, only without Michael Myers, I hope, or Warren Valley, without all the fuckery that happened there. (Don’t feel bad if you didn’t get that last reference. I had to look it up myself. It’s where Trick ‘r Treat took place.)

Very near where I live.

However, the city I live in seems to at least have a passing flirtation with Halloween. Having not been here for very long, I have missed out on several events I would have liked to have gone to, but there will be time for that next year…because I plan to be here next year.

One of the good things, though, is the movies. (Did you think I would stray far from that?) There are at least two theaters not too far away that play both second run and old movies. One theater will start playing Let the Right One In with English subtitles. Love that movie. Then, in honor of the season, another will be showing Halloween starting this weekend. I may have to drag my carcass out of the house and go see them both. Alone? Absolutely. Who gives a shit? The possibility of seeing those two movies on the big screen is just too delicious to pass up. And I’d be watching them alone at home anyway. So, hopefully I’ve not become so stagnant and agoraphobic that I will allow these to pass me by.

I believe the Spirit of Halloween in those autumnal hills demands it.

Lament of Halloween

This will be the first Halloween in years when I am not surrounded by several friends who love the season as much as I do. My roommate and best friend doesn’t care one way or the other, and though our battle of courtesy has smoothed out considerably and I have been stuffing my eyes with all the movies I can get my hands onto, this holiday will be rather lonely.

It’s not just that I love Halloween and scary movies. It’s the camaraderie, the feeling of escape and closeness with my friends I left behind in California. We didn’t always get to see each other that much throughout the year, but during Halloween time, for all of September and October (and sometimes even part of August), each weekend would be spent together, parked on a couch, lights off, distractions away, a plethora of food in front of us, and just consume scary movie after scary movie. We would talk, laugh, cackle, get on each others’ nerves (really bad last year), and be together.

The week of Halloween, we would all gather at my friend’s house, carve pumpkins, have a pot luck, and put on a special movie in the background (usually Hocus Pocus, The Great Pumpkin, Halloween, or Trick ‘r Treat), and just have fun. Halloween itself was always taken off from work and we would always spend it together. Always.

This year, I have moved, and though I have met a few people, most of them very nice, I just don’t make friends all that easily, so I’ve not found a group with whom I can be a lazy horror-movie watching bum. My group of friends were breaking up anyway. Two of us are divorcing each other, and one is likely moving to another state. Another was growing disenchanted and was dropping out of our weekend festivities more and more often. Another infrequent participant went through a bitter break up and now has a new guy. I was just the first to move away, and I honestly am happier than I have been in more years than I can think of, and that has led to inertia.

But in the end, I will be spending this greatest of all holidays alone as the sole person who cares about Halloween that I know here. I will take this sad, fond remembrance and use it to build the life I want here. I will find new friends, and gods willing they will love horror movies as much as I do, but with my old friends, in that old and often horrible place, I had at least one time, one moment, one season of utter happiness.

I had something magical and special, and though I am infinitely happier where I currently am, I can’t help but lament for a time that will never be again in a place that is changing beyond recognition.

Seasonal Affective Disorder: Change of Weather is Bliss

Occasionally I check the weather of the place I used to live, just to compare with where I am now.

See, some people have SAD, or Seasonal Affective Disorder. About 11 million people in the US suffer from SAD, and as many as 25 million others have a more mild case of it, usually referred to as “Winter Blues”. Women are far more likely to suffer from it than men, almost four times more likely.

These people suffer from irritability, low energy, oversleeping, and appetite changes, but can also experience hypersensitivity to rejection or strange cravings. It also has all the normal symptoms of depression, like loss of interest in things you used to enjoy, difficulty concentrating, thoughts of death or suicide, and feeling depressed or hopeless. I imagine for people in the Pacific Northwest, where I have recently moved, having this form of SAD can be absolutely brutal. I feel for those people, I really and truly do.

I feel so strongly for those people because I’m pretty sure I also have SAD…only in reverse.

Of those people who have Seasonal Affective Disorder, about 1% of them have it twisted around in the other direction, to where summer and heat and bright lights being about these same feelings. Some of that has to do with body confidence — in the summer you go out, take off your shirt, wiggle into a swimsuit, lay out, go do summer things, whatever. If you feel like Fatty the Hutt, leering after Princess Leia in a gold bikini while choking on your fifth serving of ham and milkshake, it sort of adds to that feeling of grotesquery.

So, having lived in Southern California most of my life and having my SAD get worse and worse over time, the summers were becoming more and more unbearable. I had to get out. Part of the problem is that I was in a place where there were about 8 months of summer and a few smatterings of something colder than Summer Lite. All of September and at least half of October are usually spent with 80+ degree weather. There are lamentably few of the trees that change colors and little or no rain to speak of. Just when the heat starts to settle down…BAM! Santa Ana winds. Hot, dry, horrid desert winds from the taint of Satan come to smack all of Southern California in the face, ears, nose, and throat. This would make me bitterly angry, hopelessly depressed, and just generally feeling hot and powerless.

So, as I mentioned, today I checked the weather in Southern California where I used to live. It’s currently 96 degrees there and sunny as any day you can find in summer. Yesterday it was 92, and tomorrow it promises to be 90. Today, where I now live in Oregon, it is 61 degrees and raining. The trees across the street from my apartment are orange and yellow with the colors of autumn. The tree leaves right in front of my apartment are starting to turn yellow. They went from a fistful of yellow scattered in a carpet of green to the point where you can’t look at the tree and not see the yellow. It’s perfect and beautiful, the way autumn should be.

Not everyone can move 800+ miles away to defeat their Seasonal Affective Disorder. For those people, I recommend talking to your doctor, getting bright lights or dark, heat-blocking blinds, depending on what kind of SAD you have. It will help. Believe me, coming from someone who knows, any help is worth it, and it can make the difference between scraping by from day to day to actually enjoying life.

Glitter, Fat, Horror, Murder…and Happiness

What do these things have in common? Nothing — if I didn’t have the most eclectic viewing habits known to man. These are the things I have been watching, absorbing, and experiencing.

As unabashedly gay as it sounds (and it is), I love magical girl anime. Sailor Moon owns my soul. However, there is a series taken over and dubbed by Netflix and retitled Glitter Force. I can’t describe it without being crude, so here we go: It’s gayer than rolling around in butter and glitter, watching Sailor Moon, and dressing in drag as the Little Mermaid, all while blowing another guy. It lacks the depth of other magical girl stuff, but it’s absolute, pure fun. I finished the first season today and my favorite moment was when the cute, scared, timid girl — whose alter ego is named Glitter Peace — was fighting in the final battle against a giant Terror Clown. They did the normal sound off, like, “I’m Glitter Lucky! I’m Glitter Sunny!” When it came to Peace’s turn, she growled, bellowed, and sounded like she was hiding a kunai in her hair, ready to shank a bitch. She sounded like she was really saying, “I’m Glitter PEACE, fuckers, and I swear to glitter, I will kick your clown nuts up into your afro and make you eat my pooooo!”  I watched that part three times and cackled. Then, to mellow out the glitter storm of femininity happening in my room, I followed it with some Family Guy and the new Voltron (awesome, by the way).

My other viewing has been all over the spectrum. I’ve been devouring My 600 Pound Life (pun intended) and cheering on or cussing out some sadly obese people. I have my favorites (Milla, I’m looking at you, and I owe you about 50 hugs), and my shank-a-bitches (Marla…someone is coming for your obstinate bitch ass).

I have finally reclaimed my TV…somewhat. My hours at work have changed, so I can stay up an hour or so later and watch some stuff without horrifying or boring my friend and roommate. I also claimed the TV for the better part of a day. I have watched The Conjuring, Annabelle, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Taking of Deborah Logan, Creep, and others (the latter two are on Netflix. Check them out.) Since I work from home now, I put my Kindle Fire on the side of my desk and watch movies all day (but unfortunately, my Halloween Standards are not on Netflix or free for Amazon Prime, making my TV and Blu-Ray player necessary). My list of horror movies to watch has increased since I have uncovered almost all of my DVDs and Blu-Rays. I normally would have started the Halloween movie viewing in September, but there were too many things going on. Now…look out.

I have also been watching a great deal of mini-documentaries on REAL horror — murder and true crime. It has been informative, sad, and entertaining to watch them…but not like I was doing the last time I went on a Forensic Files binge. That thought brings me full circle. The last time I watched more than a couple episodes of Forensic Files, I was staving off depression and (oddly) was using that as a ticket out. All I did was lie around, hating my life, my living situation, my job, the city I lived in, the weather I was forced to endure, and many other things. I saw no way out, no light at the end of the tunnel. The light was a concept, a hazy dream so far off that it didn’t seem real or possible.

Now…I have realized a great deal of that. If I could go back in time just a few short months and tell myself not to give up, that in less than half a year I would be typing this on my couch, in my living room in Oregon, away from all the stressors I had in California, having just experienced a massive rainstorm, windstorm, and thunderstorm…all while watching Trick ‘r Treat…well, that light at the end of the tunnel wouldn’t have been so lamentably far away.

Now…now I’m happier than I have been in years. And years and years. And there’s so much more to come, so much more potential. So gimme. If it took glitter, fat, horror, and murder to get to where I am…then I welcome them…on TV, anyway.

Turning This Sucky Halloweentime Around

This Halloween season has sucked.

Al lot of it has to do with expectations. For years I have spent every weekend in September and October with friends, eating, drinking, and watching scary movies. The weather never cooperated because in California there are eight months of summer, and the tail end lasts at least half way into October. Palm trees and the like don’t change colors — the leaves just fall off and tumble into the street in the scorchingly hot Santa Ana winds.

This year, most of my friends are 850 miles away watching movies without me. They are texting me pictures of the blu-ray menus to show me what they are watching. So far I have been sent the title screens for The Amityville Horror, The Fog, Trick ‘r Treat, The Strangers, and Halloween H20, all but one from a list of Halloween “standards” that we watch every year. Unfortunately for me, most of my movies are still packed away in a wall of boxed books, movies, and games. Also putting a damper on my Halloween traditions is the fact that my roommate and best friend, Merrot, isn’t all that enthusiastic when it comes to horror movies.

She likes some, will tolerate others, and is willing to sit in the front room with her headphones in while I watch amazing shit she wants nothing to do with (I’m looking at you, The Conjuring 1 and 2). However, there’s an extreme level of selfishness that comes from watching something your roommate has no interest in — or worse, actively dislikes the idea of — when there’s only one TV in the house (no matter whose TV it is). Not that she’s not accommodating or is selfish with the TV, and I’ve already read her blog post about this very subject.

Watching horror movies is always better with someone else. I’m totally fine watching them alone, but when you have someone who is not interested at all and who is in the room, it feels like selfish imposition. I don’t need her to jump in fear or loathing or disgust or do the wave with me every time Michael Myers kills another person who deserves it (I’m looking at you, Annie), but it has the feeling of…almost of being in a relationship and being ragingly horny while your significant other is accommodating, but is really only doing it for you, going through the motions, lying there bored, and really just waiting for it to be over. It can sort of spoil the mood.

This is the equivalent of that relationship, but amongst friends.

So, we’re locked in this non-battle of courtesy, Merrot and I. However, I have every intention of turning that around. I want to take some of this coming weekend off and totally hog the TV, and I’ve told Merrot of this. We will work it out. With few new friends here, I am determined to enjoy myself, and to make this annoying Halloween season wonderful in this beautiful place — where cold reigns; where the leaves are turning orange, red, and yellow all around me; where the rain and cloudy skies are plentiful, moody, and atmospheric; and where autumn is the way it should be.

I’m gonna turn this son of a bitch season around. You watch me.

Realizations Through TV

I hate to say it, but sometimes television can teach us things. It’s not usually good stuff, or it’s negative reinforcement.

Having recently moved, there are still more than a couple boxes lying around. Many of them are empty, as we had to have to many living essentials delivered, and the irony is that the empties are blocking the ill-advised mover-made wall of intermingled boxes of DVDs and books. The totality of it is overwhelming and so few things get done. Also, I live in a very eco-conscious state and place, so throwing cardboard away is not an option. There is a separate receptacle for cardboard so that it can be recycled. I think that’s awesome, but it gets full fast and it rains a lot here. See the potential for excuses?

The remedy? Watch one too many episodes of Hoarders.

It’s not a habit or anything yet, and it needs to be, but when I’m alone in the front room (so as not to disturb my friend and roommate) I have been taking the boxes down and flattening them. Well, one time, but progress is progress.

You know how they say that when you’re happy you tend to gain weight? Yeah. I’ve gained. Just about 5 pounds in nearly two months, but it’s not a path I want to go down. I’m usually sitting on the couch, relaxing, watching TV (not enough horror movies for my October, alas), and eating the rather good food my friend makes…and I make on occasion.

The remedy? Watch some My 600 Pound Life.

Last week I went for a good walk, about 2 miles. I have removed my pull up bar from its hiding spot. I don’t plan to go back for seconds (or, let’s be honest, sometimes thirds). I’m eating a lot of Halloween candy this year, but it’s no longer so plentiful and I don’t plan to get more when that’s gone. It has been about eating and making merry, for the most part.

Reality television is poison, and though these are offshoots of that genre, they can teach you things through negative reinforcement. The truth is, I’m happier and happier each day, and therefore nearing contented complacency. That’s a positive thing. Now it’s time to get it all back in line…and still enjoy myself.

Inspiration Revival

I have always been interested in writing, in pouring my imagination onto page and — the best part — reading it afterward so I can go on the journey I’ve laid out for myself. My childhood and adolescence was papered with half-begun stories and dreams that never got further than a few pages. I got serious-ish in college where I wrote over 20 chapters of a fantasy novel I still think is quite good, but needs a little more depth.

What finally got me to really write and finish something was writing a fan fiction (no, I won’t tell you of what) with my best friend. It was supposed to be something small and fun, maybe 50 pages, or on the outside 50 each for a total of 100. That fell by the wayside and 850 pages later, we are done with the first half…or the first third, depending on how much we do. It has been fun but has been ignored for years. It taught me my writing potential, helped make me better at the craft, taught me time management, and made me realize my potential level of output. It was fun and funny and involved research and was just amazing. My friend and I still talk about it.

Since I have been waiting for a response from my publisher on another matter, I have been going through my sections of that 850 page fan fic monstrosity and fixing the margins/indents, and proofreading for comprehension. It has lit my imagination on fire again.

Add to that the fact that I am away from 90% of the stressors that stopped me from writing before, and I have noticed something. My imagination had soared. It is the phoenix from the ashes. It is flourishing, shimmying, and galloping all over my head.

When I was in California, all I wanted to do was prolong every possible second before going out to the kitchen or front room or bathroom, all in an effort to avoid the mess and my sullen, licentious ex. Furthermore, I wanted to stretch every minute between me and my inevitable return to the office, full of drama, hate, irritation, anger, and frustration — many of the same feelings I had at home. I never got away from it. Misery crowded out my imagination, save for random daydreams that served as an escape.

None of that touches me now. I’m reading more, I’m writing, I like my roommate, I love the area, I loveloveLOVE the weather, I’m away from the work drama which only touches me for bare seconds maybe once every two weeks (instead of for several hours a day), and it has allowed my spirit to thrive. With that comes the desire to write, to create, to do what I can. I am living now, not surviving, and when that happens, my inspiration and creativity rise up like the Great Pumpkin.

I have the answer from my publisher and a lifetime of stories to catch up on writing, and for every one I write, two more replace it. Like Spongebob says, I’m READY!