Planet Comicon 2014

This Saturday we ventured out to Kansas City, Missouri for this year’s Planet Comicon. This is the second year we’ve attended and I have to say that this was definitely better than the last. The set up allowed for more room to walk around without touching every single person you walked by, an improvement from last year when I (accidentally) touched more people’s bums than I care to admit. I still managed some sporadic anxiety attacks but that’s because the crowds will never be my friends.

The line seemed a little daunting, but once the doors opened up we basically zoomed right on in. Though, I could have waited in line all day and not cared too much because the weather was glorious there. The sun was shining but it wasn’t terribly hot, it’s almost a shame we spent the next 5 hours indoors.

In the short time that we spent in line we saw the Predator walking casually through the parking lot across the street. I have to say that I enjoyed that, seeing characters from movies/comics/cartoons in a real life setting, it makes my heart smile. . . even if it’s one that would ravage me to death.

Much like last year, I was limited on spending. Though, I have to say I never feel the urge to meet the celebrity folk. It makes me feel odd paying to meet someone. I get why others do it, but I find it hard to justify it. Unless it’s someone that I HAVE (i.e. you’ve impacted my life, right in the childhood, i’m borderline stalking you) to meet and make a fool of myself in front of. If I can avoid it, I’ll watch awkwardly from afar.  I was half tempted for the Blue Ranger. Childhood feelers.  Sylvester McCoy because LOTR. Will Wheaton was also present and I managed a fuzzy picture of him, which may or may not be included below. Almost all of the cast of Star Trek The Next Generation was present. Sigh. Many regrets there. I couldn’t even muster the courage of taking a proper photo of them from afar. Sigh. I watched them so much when I was younger, I just couldn’t stand the awkwardness of it all. William Shatner was going to be there Sunday but I missed it because I was only there Saturday. It would have been nice to take a gander at him, not autograph because my mouth couldn’t close after hearing his autograph fee.

You can imagine my fright when I look up and see this guy above giving me the stare down.

So many incredible booths of amazingly and extraordinarily talented humans. I wish I had an ounce of their talents. I wanted to buy all their creations. Alas, maybe next year.



In 4 hours my alarm clock will begin blaring, yet here I am wide awake stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I long for sleep but all I manage to do is toss and turn. No matter what I do, sleep eludes me. Reading normally helps to quell the thoughts or serves as a sweet lullaby, but not tonight.

Two nights ago, death came knocking. It sought no life that wasn’t ready, but whether one is ready or willing it’s never easy for those that remain behind to mourn. I know, for some, the death of a pet means nothing significant — but I beg to differ.

In 2005, my dad died suddenly and we drove 15 hours south to my sister’s for the funeral. That night we heard a piercing cry coming from under the house and it seemed to have no end in sight. After a short time, we got some flashlights and I crawled under her house and discovered that her dog had given birth to 3 puppies. I thought the cries had come from her giving birth but when I was set to walk away I heard the cry again and discovered that one of the pups was by himself. I tried reuniting him with his mother, but she refused to nurse him. I tried several times but each and every time she refused to accept him. I begged, supplicated and yelled. Nothing helped. Eventually, I accepted defeat and broke down and cried for the pup, my dad, and myself. After a brief crying spell, something took over and I refused for death to claim another life. I would not allow it. I made it my mission to ensure the survival of this pup and, in retrospect, I think I needed something to live for. I drove to the store and bought formula and a bottle and nursed him. The following day, I took him with me to Mexico for the funeral and rarely parted from his side. I was worried that, when crossing the border, they would discover him and refuse him entry but they never even noticed he was in the car. He made it home with me to Kansas and I named him Lucky. Nothing could separate me from his side. I fed him and cuddled him, he was my baby and I wanted him to live. We made it past the toughest part and he had just begun to open his eyes. I was ecstatic. When I went to work or school my brother watched him. One day, which I cannot describe what day or what I’d done but I can remember getting home and my brother telling me that he’d accidentally hurt him and Lucky wouldn’t stop crying. He had sat on Lucky, it was almost comical to hear but when I heard Lucky crying and cringing in pain. . . I knew he would not make it. I forced him to take him to the vet, but I could not bear to go with him. He came home with lucky covered in a small blanket, Lucky had died. I cried as I dug his tiny grave beneath my favorite tree. I cried until I could cry no more. The life that he brought into my life was extinguished. I had nothing in me anymore. I had cried and felt more for Lucky, than I had at my own father’s funeral. Even now, after 8 years, it still hurts having lost him.

When Brandy died, I couldn’t help but feel for my boyfriend’s Mom. She’d had Brandy for 12 years and if my love for Lucky was immense after a mere couple of weeks I could not imagine the pain of losing someone after 12 years.  She was a wonderful dog, she always greeted me with howls and her toothy smile. I don’t know what happens when death claims someone, but I hope that wherever Brandy and Lucky are I hope they’re enjoying themselves and know they are loved and missed dearly. 



My mind is always in a state of discombobulation… There appears to be neither cohesiveness nor structure, my thoughts run rampant and it makes writing feel like a chore. I’ve begun over 5 short stories with no end in sight because all of them are going at once in all directions. I try to focus on one thing but they attack me all at once. Someday I’ll get it right and finally finish one of the many adventures that are happening inside my head.

The weather has been as erratic as my thoughts. When I went on that, brief, adventure the temperature was in the 60s then the next day it was snowing. Blegh. I yearn for consistency, mainly just warmth.

The boyfriend and I have been trying to be responsible and working toward paying off all of our debt. I’ve been doing a lot of number crunching and, thankfully, it’s feasible to get it all done by year’s end. It’s such an amazing feeling to see and know that there is an end in sight. I never thought I’d have such grown up thoughts and aspirations to have my own house. The idea of having my own laundry room is the best! Less socialization, yay! I’ve always had the notion that I’d be a vagabond and never settle but yet here I am working towards a home.

We also had some fun with the boogers (my niece and nephew) this weekend. We got this kit that made giant bubbles and let me tell you, the best kind of bubbles are GIANT ones! They were so much fun! I tried to take cool pictures but that did not happen, maybe once it’s warmer but yeah GIANT BUBBLES!

A Short Reprieve

I haven’t been exploring as of late and all because of winter. Blegh. It’s been so cold and then the piles of snow fell upon the lands. It was dreadful. Fortunately, before then I was able to enjoy a brief (tease) period of warmth. I went exploring back to back, taking full advantage of the brief nice weather. And, thankfully, I did because the snow and cold attacked us that very same week if not night.

My friend and I drove the two hour drive and had a good time singing and chatting up a storm about life and things. It was much needed.

It’s been about a year since I’ve been to Neosho Falls and Coronado heights, and a lot has changed since then. The Neosho Falls High School is overrun by local hoodlums who fancy terrible graffiti. When my friend and I arrived, we almost hesitated entering because we heard commotion in the basement. We hesitated simply because trespassing is still illegal but it was just a group of teens who were smoking weed and breaking things, still we ran up the stairs and hid as they walked out of the building. We laughed at how lame we probably looked. The building felt different, almost like I had never been there, perhaps it was the atmosphere that felt different. I’m not sure. I explored more of the building than I had before, but found nothing interesting. Just holes in the ground and empty beer bottles. Exciting stuff.

Coronado Heights. 

The other trip was with my boyfriend to Coronado Heights.  Ordinarily, I go with friends to these short photographic adventures but I felt it was unfair to not drag him out of the house and neglect house duties with me. So we did and it was so much fun. We explored, climbed rocks and scaled buildings. It was the best. He’s truly the best.

I’m hoping the weather stays constant and I get to explore other towns I have not been to, though they may be limited because my computer is still being an arse and we’re trying to rid ourselves of the evil thing called Debt. I hate that bastard.

The Dead Rise

I cannot believe that it’s been months since my last post. It almost makes me feel like a zombie rising from the grave. These past couple of months have been incredibly busy. I longed to write about everything, the mundane and exciting but my lovely (less than a year old laptop) went berserk on me. A stupid update made the hard drive undetectable, it works sporadically but terribly slow. I intend on fixing it but something always comes up and, quite honestly, I’m just terrified at what it would cost to get it repaired. It’s a major bummer that it happened, especially right after the warranty expired. 

And again, I’m awake much later than I should be but I hope this brief entry will be a good segue into me writing again because thoughts are festering for far too long in my head.



I’m officially a quarter and two pennies. I still remember when I was still a dime,  counting the nickel or pennies until I turned 15 and now I’m almost double that. Time flies.

Ordinarily, I would make it a point to ignore my birthday because I’ve always felt that it was nothing special. It was just another year that I was older, also because I hate the spotlight on me, but I’ve come to a point in my life where I’ve been reflecting on a lot of things. Just a moment ago, as I was sitting in the dark going through my regular ol’ self-deprecating spiel I realized that today’s not the day. I have so much to be thankful for. I’m an expert at self-deprecation, so skilled that sometimes I don’t realize I’m doing it. It’s going to take some time to retrain myself.

I’m a year older today and I can say that proudly, not because I want some sort of congratulations to gain the spotlight but because I made it through another day. I don’t have enough fingers on my hands to count the times I could have died, willingly and accidentally. I’ve given up on myself and barely gotten through some days, barely standing but I’m still here. I think back to the all the times that I attempted against my life, their was so much darkness and sadness. It was all so overwhelming, I was in agony and their was no one I could turn to or so this disease has a way of making you feel that way. I just wanted it all to go away.  I never once thought about how it would have affected anyone else’s life. Never. I only sought refuge from the pain or on one occasion I wanted a couple of people to feel the ramifications of their hateful words and actions.

Fortunately, after all those unsuccessful attempts I’m still here and though I doubted I’d ever say it . . . I’m glad to say that.  I won’t lie and say that it’s been an easy ride because I still struggle heavily. Their are times when it sings to me it’s deadly lullaby with arduous conviction that I consider singing along, but then I look around me at all that I have and I realize that the song is no longer romantic and forcibly decline its invitation to be led into its cold embrace.

As a way to celebrate these past twenty seven years of ups and downs, I decided to add some color to it. Initially, it was going to be another common color but my job gave me the nod of approval and the sister offered to gift it to me and so I went with purple. By far, the best decision because it’s made me feel as vibrant as it is.


I hope, that if anyone who reads this is going through a similar struggle can see that things can get better. You just have to fight for it, even when the fight gets tireless.


It’s been a while and I’m not even sure where to start. For starters, my computer has been ill and I’ve been freaking out trying to find things to make it better. I want to proclaim success but I don’t think that it’s better, which is a shame considering it’s barely a year old. Sigh. But, I’ve gotten it past the grey screen of death so that’s a minor accomplishment. 

Much to my chagrin, we had a Halloween party but it actually turned out a lot better than expected. I wish I would have taken pictures, I think I just took snaps here and there but nothing significant. Quite a shame, really. I was overwhelmed with all the bodies in attendance and getting everything sorted. The final details were never truly finished. Towards the end, after downing sufficient enough drinks to soothe my nerves, it was easier to deal with and I had fun.

Another think occurring in my universe, is that I’ve been heavily debating art school — to study photography. It was the plan 5 years ago, but then a shit ton of things happened all at once. I fell off a ladder at work, developed GERD, consequence to the fall I began having trouble walking, any movement was extremely painful and it all led to me dropping out of university. This, of course, all led to a small little dark spiral of self-destruction. Life is wonderful, isn’t it? So, here I am 5 years later debating on uprooting and moving to study photography. The thought is frightening but what’s even more terrifying is staying in my cubicle staring out my window for the next 40+ years wishing I had gone. I’ve always known I couldn’t have a job like the one I do now. It’s much too stifling. I want the ability to dye my hair any color I want or have piercings and whatever other restrictions I’ve had to abide by since joining the grown up world. I’m a toys’r’us kid, not a grown up kid. Even if I fail at art school, I want to say that I earned that failure. I’ve started working on ideas, for the portfolio I have to submit with the application, and I’m excited because I’ve started coming up with concepts and ideas. It’s even reignited my love affair with make-up.

Because of all these wonderful thoughts and ideas, I’ve decided that it’s time to attempt to go back on anti-depressants. I’ve been fighting it alone for so long and lately it feels like I’m on the losing side. I realize it’ll never truly go away, but ordinarily, I’ll go through  rough patches which’ll last a week and then after they’ve beaten me senseless they subside. My little cycle of darkness. However, as of late, the episodes have been interminable and brutal. It’s been tough to deal with all of these feelings that I thought I had killed, it’s as if the dead have risen from their graves. I thought I could do it alone but I think I have to learn to admit that sometimes I need help, and this is one of those instances. Also, I’m tired of depression sucking the life out of everything.