A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “Firefly

Versatility and Other Shiny Things


So, since this episode of the wonderful fun that is the Fiction Relay promises to kick my arse a bit harder than usual (T’anks, Sis! ;p) I thought I’d better put something up here itmt, so here goes.

Umm.

versatileblogger11

Oh, yeah! I almost forgot, I gots me another award-type-thingie! My NB/Evil Twin (or am I the evil one? I forget…) Joanne, just picked up an -extremely- well deserved “Versatile Blogger” award, and in sheer panic at having to find a bunch of people to toss that particular hot potato towards, picked me. Along with some insignificant others…*cough*…TRG. Oh Hi, Boss! *giggles*

Since I was a bit too slow to duck, I s’pose I’ll have to take the bullet…I mean award…although as usual for me I’m going to be -way- too contrary to play by the “rules” of the award. So everyone can rest easy, I won’t be tossing this little bomb in your lap…but if you want it, lord-and-lady knows you can have it. I know if you’re reading this then “versatile” is the -least- of the words that can be used to describe you. *hugs*

The “7 nifty things” bit I’ll play along with, but just because well, who wouldn’t be interested in learning more about lil’old me? (Put your hand down, Twin. ;p)

So…7 nifty things about me.

I am an amateur mythologist, I’ve loved reading, finding, comparing and retelling the myths and legends of every culture I can get my hands on since I was able to read…sometime around 4 or 5-ish. Joseph Campbell makes my head hurt…but in a good way. *g*

I am an amateur Semiologist. No way I’m explaining that without a whole new post, so I’ll just play chicken and link you to the Wiki. Have fun. ;p

I belong to the Medieval Reenactment Group known as the Society for Creative Anachronism, and have done so for over 30 yrs. now. Even managed to drag my mother and father in (Well, I dragged her, she dragged him. ;p) and now they go when I don’t. 🙂

I am addicted to Jasmine Beckett-Griffith art. I am literally surrounded by it when I sit at my computer, from my mousepad to the tarot on my dresser to the giant wall poster behind me, and more between.

I am a fan of many many many things geekly, from Star Wars to Trek to Steampunk and every flavor in between…but the only one to actually stick and make me -want- to claim my fandom and obsession…is Joss Whedon’s “Firefly”. I am a Browncoat for life. I love JW’s other stuff, don’t get me wrong…but Firefly wins. And Fox…just so you know…you can’t stop the signal. “May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.”

I’ve crossed this country by Greyhound bus approx. 10 times…Florida to California, Montana to Texas, Florida to Washington, Florida to Canada, and various back and forths. Fun then…not so much now. >.<

I am a huge Japanophile. Don’t think I could ever live over there…I’m too big, and there are too many scary bity things…but the niftiness that is anime, and j-pop/rock/metal, and Harajuku, and all the bazillionty-jillion subcultures that don’t have to worry about being sub…love it all. Oh, and then there’s Pockies.

I got to see the Harlem Globetrotters in person with my dad when I was 10 or so. I laughed so hard the tears ran down my leg.

I can’t watch past the “earwig” scene in “Search for Spock” because I get nauseous. The first time I watched it was in the theatre, my grandparents took me and my brother out for our b-days, his 10th and my 12th. We went to Chucky Cheese and gorged on pizza and then ate popcorn/hotdogs/candy/soda at the theatre…and then I watched them put the thing in Checkov’s helmet…and that’s the last thing I know about that movie. Still. *shrugs*

Heh…oops. Well, ok, 9 things. And enough. One more thing before I take off, though. On the note of Firefly fandom and suchlike. This is an awesome video of an awesome filk song called “Mal’s Song” by Escape Key. I just found it, and had to share. I know I number at least one Browncoat in my peeps (and you, Boss, although don’t watch, cause there might be teeny spoilers. >.<)

Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled program of waiting for me to toss something into the Fiction Relay stewpot and see what boils up. ;p

 

 


Letter to Lauren (personal journaling, not important)

This is the letter I just emailed to my caseworker to explain how I feel about my little Kia Soul, Firefly.  She is my life…and with all the haps recently, she is my biggest burden.  So, read if you want…I just wanted to get it down and saving it didn’t seem like enough.

I just want to try to help you understand what I feel about my car. I know you can’t fully understand, because to you, it’s just a thing. Like your phone, or your house, a thing you can (and recently did) get rid of, if it becomes inconvenient, or you just want/need a new one. I get that. I’ve never been there. Ever.

As a kid, oldest of 6 with a low-grade military salary to live on, if we got something it was something we’d better count as permanent until it broke or wore down so badly it wasn’t worth keeping. TV, car, toys…anything.

Then as an adult…first with only a fast-food worker/minimum wage salary that wasn’t enough to let me do more than sleep on my parents couch in their house full of bugs and so many rats I could listen to them war and mate in the walls all around me all night…no AC, in Florida, just a huge box fan with so little motor I had to have it in bed with me to get any relief from the heat…years of that.

Then on 4 yrs. of $25 a week welfare, living on -other- peoples couches, or in shelters (thank you YWCA) and going through disability applications and denials over and over and over again. Finally won, and bought my fondest dream…a little RV, for $7,000. I thought I could have a home and a vehicle in one, travel all over the country, sell things…live the freedom/nomad life I dreamed about. Only problem is, 7 miles to the gallon. Cost to park. Cost of utilities…including dumping the toilet. Ended up back at my parents, parked illegally in their driveway, sucking up their electricity and using their bathroom, until I managed to sell it, luckily for exactly what I paid for it. Minus the upkeep, obviously. (Gentleman that bought it paid in cash. $7,000 worth. In a baggie. >.<)

From there count 10 yrs. or so of living on less than minimum wage disability, in housing units or shelters, back and forth from across the country to “home” with my parents.

Then I met my one and only love, Sam, and moved to live with him and my best friend Becky in Sacramento for two of the best years of my life. Also two of the worst, as I was diagnosed with severe rheumatoid arthritis soon after meeting Sam, and went mostly untreated all through that time. I drove regularly during that time. Neither Sam nor Becky drove. Sam owned a 10 yr. old Suburban, huge clunky black thing, that I needed a step-stool to climb into, and had almost no power steering…lots of fun with RA swollen hands and shoulders.

Then I became insane enough that neither of them wanted me around anymore, and I ended up back with my parents…in the back room of their (manufactured home) trailer, half filled with my moms fabric collection and file cabinets and shelves.

And then I got my car. And alright, I was stupid to want/get a new car. I just thought that for once I wanted something new. Something mine. Something that I didn’t have to worry about it breaking every time I got in it, and worry what was going to fall off next. I thought I deserved this…and since I could have it…I got it. I was so insistent on getting it that I let them talk me into paying more than half of my disability paycheck every month for a payment. But I paid it. All but a very few times, for a year.

And then all the new stuff happened…and it’s all gone pear-shaped, and I have no idea how it’s all going to work out…but it is. It has to. Because stupid or not, it’s my car. And everytime I hear you say “You are going to have sell the car!” I hear “Wow, shame you had that kid when you couldn’t afford it…well, you better sell it, and get a dog or something that costs less.” Ummm…no.

So all that is to say that she, Firefly, my car…is my freedom. I know everyone says that…but everyone hasn’t been deprived of that freedom their whole lives. Everyone hasn’t been dependent on someone or something else, tied to someone or something, powerless and broken, for all their life. I have. And now I have my freedom. I have my other half. I feel whole and safe and yes, sane, when I’m behind that wheel. I feel like a real person, not some fake adult, but me. Just me. My music, my decorations, my life is in that car. (Now if only she had a bathroom, she’d be perfect…;p)

I know you’re worried. It’s your job to be, and you do a very good job. You’re a great caseworker, and I can tell you I’ve had many. *hugs* All I can say is I’m worried too…but I am apparently not going to let this break me. It’s going to be a -long-, -long- year…but I can do it. With help, I can do it. And yes, I’m depressed…and stressed…and all the physical mess that goes with the above…but I’m handling it. I promise. No more talk about pills or other self-destructive things. Apparently those won’t work for me anymore. Not sure why not…maybe it’s just that I finally hit my worst nightmare, Authority Figures hostile toward me for nothing I did and nothing I can do to fix it…and now that I’m here, I find that it’s only horrible…not world-ending. I guess that’s it. So yeah, that’s what I wanted to say. *hugs again* Oh, and thanks.

KC/Meg/Jessica


Brother Mine (#2 in the River series)

brother mine, still standing tall,
though your back’s against the wall,
for the sake of what I’ve been
you will not let the evil win.

when we were young, and only two,
for questions I would look to you,
and when I passed you, won the race,
nothing but gladness filled your face.

and when to school I finally went,
you couldn’t know how much it meant,
to have you there, a paper guard,
even when the times got…hard.

even when the needles flew,
the wires and the hands of blue.
when I called, you came to me,
and at high cost you set me free.

you gave to me what could have been,
the world you worked so hard to win,
for sake of me, you crossed the line…
and sacrificed your life for mine.


Limericks for the Weekly Limerick-Off

Again with the silly…;p

http://www.madkane.com/humor_blog/2012/12/09/limerick-of-the-week-91/

The third one got honorable mention.  We’ll have to see if we can do better next time. 😉

A young man who was rather urbane,
had a sister that some called “insane”,
when crude folks would jeer
he would speak in their ear;
“Careful, she can kill with her brain…”

(If you haven’t watched Joss Whedons “Firefly” series yet, or the movie “Serenity”, the above won’t mean much…but it makes sense in that context, believe me.)

A rich lass who was rather urbane,
enjoyed taking long walks in the rain,
but when summer was dry,
not a cloud in the sky,
she’d make do with a shower of Champagne.

A man who was rather urbane,
from drinking would often abstain,
when friends asked him why,
he would say, with a sigh,
“Well, the shakes make me spill my cocaine.”


A River flows

mind of diamond, sharp as sin, secrets held so deep within,
not my secrets, not my war, still I wonder what they made me for.

hunted, broken, lost and found, she knows the ways to go to ground,
she steps outside her minds embrace, to hide from the eternal chase.

she speaks as one, and sometimes two, she hears them speak, the loyal crew,
without words she sees their thoughts, the yes and no, the shouldn’ts and ought’s.

I am she, and sometimes me, and sometimes someone else beside,
my brother and my new family, they don’t know where I go to hide.
I can rove through future, past, the trappings of the worlds embrace,
and hide myself in deepest dark, in endless light and lightless Space.

they chase and hound her, hands of blue, but with her, come her family/crew,
daring both the dark and light, to keep her from their evil sight.

they chase her for the gift they gave, the torment locked so deep inside,
but safe now in the ships soft womb, she knows full well the winning side.
the captain brave, so strong and tall, her brother with his quick sure hands,
who left his life to give her hers, although he seldom understands.

the pilot with his ready laugh, who keeps the ship so straight and true,
the warrior woman, dark and tall, the lovely lady, heart of the crew,
the fixer, sweet as apple pie, the shepherd with his own dark past,
the mercenary, tough and gruff. among them, she belongs, at last.