Regina Noctis

I just got home from working a 12 1/2 hour shift. We set records for South Bay EPIC tonight. People started to panic when we got the approximate count of how many they were sending us… 93. We actually wound up with about 85.

I have knots in places I didn’t even know existed before all the running around tonight.

I’m going to go fall over now.

Ugh.

I was just complaining to Sylvan earlier that it seems like every guy I run into anymore is hoping for a supermodel to be just sitting there online, waiting for the guy in question to come along. They all want Barbie. Some of them want Barbie with a Ph.D. But most seem to care less about brains or personality than looks. Looks looks looks. I want a showpiece, and if you’re not built like one, get away from me.

Apparently, there’s at least one out there who doesn’t mind a girl who’s not a supermodel.

I just got some email from someone on a site that I’m at who’s interested and wants to meet me. Despite my use of (*shudder*) honesty about who I am and what I look like. Usually, the absolute truth will send ‘em packing. Generally right after I mention “overweight.” But not this one.

I’m now officially too paranoid and shy to write back.

I was not expecting any kind of response whatsoever. The shock of a response is most of what’s causing the “too paranoid and shy to write back.”

He gave me a link to a picture, and he’s pretty cute, actually.

Hmmm… Cute, dark hair, blue eyes, tall, not some little boy trying to make time with an older woman, not a married man looking for a plaything on the side, and actually lives in the Bay Area…

There has GOT to be something wrong with this. This sounds too good to be my life. ;p

For several years now, there’s someone (or several someones) who have been submitting my email address to a certain type of site. Sites like The Pimpin’ Cupid and Crushlink. Someone goes there, enters your email address as being someone that they have a crush on. The site then sends you email saying that someone has a crush on you, why don’t you come on in, set up your account, and try to guess who it is.

The first time it happened, I was still with Jeff. I thought maybe he was doing something cute and silly. No, he wasn’t. And HE got bombarded by email sent by the system because I entered his email addresses to make the link and shut the site up. I was tired of the once-a-week email saying “Someone has a crush on you! Come guess who likes you!” The Pimpin’ Cupid, at least at the time, just would NOT shut up unless you made a match.

I complained to the site, and they stopped the stupid email.

After some time had passed, and the someone who originally did this didn’t get an email confirming that I’d entered their email address as someone I was interested in and so made a match, I started getting these things from Crushlink on one of my other email addresses. I ignored them. I refuse to play this stupid guessing game, and give the damn thing the email addresses of the people I know so THEY start getting bombarded with spam. Honestly, knowing some my friends, I rather subscribe to the idea that this is a dumb joke someone’s playing.

So I’ve been ignoring those Crushlink messages for close to a year now. Tonight, I discovered a new one from Crushlink in my Yahoo email.

What is this, is someone going to just hit every one of my email addresses with this stupid shit?

If it’s for real, I’d rather that they have the courage of their convictions and say something directly to me instead of indulging in these silly games. I know about shyness, I know about fear of rejection, I know about fear of getting hurt. I have those things too. But when I get interested in someone, even if it takes me a little time to work up the courage to say anything about it, I do say something after a little while. Even in cases where I’m sure that rejection is what’s in store, I feel I owe the people I care about honesty. I’ll take the honest route, over what’s comfortable or convenient. And hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

At least Crushlink doesn’t bombard you with spam as often as Pimpin’ Cupid does. I only have to wade through their spam once every month or two. But it’s still obnoxious, and it’s not going to convince me to go charging off and try to guess. I ain’t playing this game. Whether you call this cowardice or shyness, the end result is equally annoying once the spam starts. And if it is the same person who’s submitted an addy of mine three different times, maybe my continued avoidance of playing this game will make them realize that they either have to put up or shut up.

Really, if it is the same person for all three of these, you’d think that the four years from the first one until now would be plenty of time to work up courage. Even I am not that slow, in spite of all the bullshit I’ve gone through thanks to past romantic (if you can call them that) relationships.

Despite the jokes about what an evil bitch I am, I’m not that bad. Honestly, if someone is interested in me, even if I’m not interested in return, I’m not going to tear them apart for it. I’m flattered by it. People who find me attractive are pretty damn rare. I don’t take it as my due, I don’t have such a plethora of them beating down my door that I’ve become jaded and bitchy about it. It’s a compliment, no matter whether the feeling is mutual or not. So really, if this is not a joke, I wish that whoever it is would just come out in the open with it. At worst, it’ll be a gentle no.

On the other hand, it wouldn’t necessarily be a no, and they’ll never know that if they never say anything.

UPDATE: There’s also one of those on my iname address. I think I should probably see if I’m going to get spammed over at hotmail too. That one, at least, would be appropriate. That’s my spam email.

*grumbles*

I decided that I was going to (finally) stop being lazy, go take a shower, and head out to get some dinner.

I discovered that there is NO hot water. Not a bit. I’m going to check a while later, since I suppose it’s possible that it’s been used up by someone doing laundry, and I just hadn’t noticed the washer running. I’ve been playing a good deal of music, after all. That would have drowned it out.

If there’s no hot water later this evening, my landlord’s getting quite an earful.

Right now, I can close my eyes and be someplace else.

I may not remember everything in my life, but the things that I do remember are clear. And sometimes they’re very immediate, like I’m living the moment again.

Right now, I’m on the slope of Mount Parnassus. The town of Delphi, the Sacred Precinct, and the Temple of Athena Pronaia are off to the left, around the curve of the mountain, out of sight. Parnassus rolls away and away below me. It’s summer, and the mountain is clothed in wildflowers. A breeze is blowing lightly, sweet with the mixed perfumes of dozens of different flowers, musical with birdsong and the hum of insects. In the deep valley at the foot of the mountain, the Sea of Olives waves in the breeze. I’m too far up to hear the creak of the boughs and the rustle of the leaves, but I can see why the Greeks named it the Sea of Olives. From here, it is a sea, a sea of green-brown, olive-colored leaves. At the head of the valley off to the right, hazy with distance, is the blue shimmer of the Gulf of Corinth. I sit in the shade, sipping white wine of one of the local vintages, or nibbling on the tart-sweet ripeness of cherries picked fresh that day and sweet nectarines, breaking off pieces of the light, crusty bread and layering on some of the soft local cheese. When lunch is over, we’ll take the old stone path along the side of the mountain, into the village with its three streets, and so out to explore the Sacred Precinct. We’ll stop at the fountain of water, spewing from its lion’s head fixture, and drink the crystal coldness. If we traced the water back, we’d find that the small stream of it comes from a deep cleft in the rock. The cleft over which the Oracle of Delphi would sit, breathing the air that came up with the water of the spring, and making her prophecies. We don’t approach the cleft, but the water we taste is sweet and alive in a way that I, city girl that I am, have never experienced. Tasting it, I can believe it is magical, as the Greeks did. For a moment, I can almost believe that it will gift me with prophecy, too.

Goddess, I want to go back.

The second Vampire Hunter D movie arrived yesterday. It was at my door when I was about to leave for work.

I watched it when I got home from work last night.

WOW!

My Mormon name is Alvira Busbyberkly Jukebox-Jezabel!
What’s yours?

That was just too good to pass up.

“If you lie on your face for long enough, do your eyeballs fall asleep?”

Originally posted so only one friend could read

The ear-biter is thrown off his opponent, and the crowd roars. I shout along with them, giving my encouragement in a carrying voice. Ignoring the blood running down his neck from the bitten ear, the enraged wrestler Isokrates advances on Tysonius, dodging around a strike from the ear-biter, and succeeds in vining Tysonius’s legs. As Isokrates goes for the followup chokehold around Tysonius’s struggles, I turn to Sibylla to make a comment about the grace with which Isokrates dodged the attempted grapple to turn the tide of the match. It is only then that I notice my cousin is no longer watching the match. Her attention has been taken by a stranger seated next to her. Mentally, I shake my head, thinking, My pretty cousin strikes again, I see. I chuckle to myself. Leave it to Sib to make the wrestling fans forget about the wrestling meet!

Distracted from the match, I take my seat again. I don’t even really remember getting to my feet in the excitement of the events in the ring. Sib has started speaking with the gentleman beside her, and it is obvious that they know each other, but I can only catch the occasional piece of a word over the roar of the crowd. I relax a moment, fanning myself, and take a sip of retsina. Using the activity as a cover, I study the stranger that my cousin is speaking with. As always, her taste is impeccable. He is a handsome and well-built gentleman, and I am not at all surprised that he has my cousin’s attention.

In the middle of their conversation, he glances my way. I flush slightly as I am caught staring, but put on my most charming smile in spite of it and fan myself a little faster to cool the warmth of my light blush.

Sib catches his look in my direction and breaks off her conversation. She turns to me, grinning from ear to ear, a definite sparkle of amusement in her eyes. “Olympias, this is Hermokrates Cleisthenes, who I’ve been telling you about! Herm, this is my cousin Olympias. She just came back to Athens a few days ago.” So this is the man my matchmaking cousin has been wanting me to meet. I can’t prevent my slight blush from deepening a little, and Sib notices. I find her grinning at me like a cat that has been in the cream as she enjoys the situation she set up and my reaction to it.

“Lord Cleisthenes, it is good to make your acquaintance. Sibylla has been telling me a little about you. I understand you are a most skilled physician.” I find myself suddenly becoming more formal than I usually am, an automatic attempt to cover the touch of discomfiture that has come over me. I look up again as I finish speaking, and find myself once more locking gazes with Hermokrates for a moment. Sib, meanwhile, is all but patting herself on the back for arranging the meeting so quickly. I make a quick face at her under cover of my straw fan before turning my attention back to the handsome physician.

Originally posted so only one person could read

After receiving my orders from Lady Daphne, I go in search of the horse pickets. I find that Erite has been taken care of, groomed and fed, and is now sleeping a well-deserved sleep. After a brief enquiry, I find my things have been taken to a small camp for the contingent of spies.

Once at the camp, I sort through my things and set aside what I will need and repack the rest. That done, I settle with my pack for a pillow to get some sleep. I know that with the long ride behind me and the coming long night ahead, I will need it. The unfamiliar sounds of the army’s “war games” camp combine with the excitement and tension of my first mission as a spy to keep me awake for a time. In the end, I finally drop into sleep as the ride from Athens to Thebes catches up with me.

Unfortunately, my sleep is not easy. When I do wake, I am not as rested as I might have wished. Though I do not remember anything specific from my dreams, I have a lingering foreboding that makes me shiver a little. As whatever sleeping fears played themselves out as I slept fade with my waking, so too does that feeling, though it does not go away completely. I am left with an unformed feeling of unease.

With a sigh, I decide that it is nerves and shove it aside. No matter what it is, I haven’t the time for it! Instead, I set about the last of my preparations for the adventure ahead. It is not too much longer before I am ready, my hair bound up and close-fitting clothing that will not hinder creeping through brush or climbing trees. I won’t be taking much, I don’t want to be slowed down. A pouch with a little hard cheese, a dagger, an easily-carried leather flask with some water in it. It will do.

I glance over to the Theban camp. I can see that there is still activity there, too much for me to start circling toward the north of their camp and my target position. It is not yet midnight anyway, so I take the time to eat something now, and check in with Daphne to make sure there are no last-minute changes in plan. I try to hide my case of nerves while I speak with Daphne. I know she is Spartan, and what that means. I can’t imagine that she will see my nervous anticipation of the mission as anything less than weak. After all, who ever heard of a Spartan with the shakes? I can remember my father’s comment once, about the toughness and discipline of Spartans, and how they were raised and trained to it, like some Athenian might train a fine hound to defend his home. The comment might have been a bit less than flattering, but I also remember the tone of his voice when he said it… more than half admiring the warriors that the Spartans are.

Daphne has sharp eyes, and I am far from the first brand-new spy she has sent out on a mission. My attempt to disguise my feeling does not fool her for a moment.

“Olympias, I think I should have a word with you.” Daphne pauses here, as if gathering her thoughts, and I do my best not to fidget. “I know that this is your first mission, and I know that you have some nervousness about it. And yes, it is not entirely safe, though the danger once you are in position is pretty minimal. BUT…” Daphne looks directly at me, her face solemn and maybe a little stern. “I would not be sending you out on this job if I didn’t think you were capable of it. Remember, I know your abilities, I know what training you’ve had, and I know that you can fulfill your mission.”

“Thank you, Lady Daphne. I will not disappoint you.” I hope! I add silently. She nods a dismissal, and I leave to watch the Theban camp, waiting for it to settle down. I am no less nervous, but I am determined!

Finally, after what seems to be forever, the fires in the Theban camp are being banked, night sentries posted, and the major part of the warriors bed down for the night. The time has come at last. There is one more surge of the uneasiness from my dreams, strong enough to make me shiver again, and then it fades away. I offer up a brief prayer to the gods, and one specially to Athena as the patron deity of the city we are all here to protect. And then, I am on the move.

I circle out a ways from camp, far enough that I am beyond the light cast by our campfires, before I begin the route I have planned out in my mind to reach the position Daphne designated for me. The time has come, at last, to prove my mettle.

I Am A: Chaotic Good Elf Bard Ranger

Alignment:
Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.

Race:
Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existence.

Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.

Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of NeppyMan!

So if you don’t like my music, I’ll shoot you with my bow. :D

The other board members have been after me for a while to write something for the Shalahar Ring novel. I’ve been fighting with a bad case of writer’s block on something that I was writing for the Delian League, so I kept putting off the Shalahar post.

Today, the words came easily, but I had to stop in the middle so I could pick up at the airport. I got home, finished up the post, still without any sign of my writer’s block. I go to log into Pan Historia to post it…

And Pan is down. So much for having the thing up by the time Roger got up for work, as I’d promised I would.

Go figure.

starkle starkle little twink
who the hell you are I think
I’m not under what you call
the alcofluence of incohol
I’m just a little slort of sheep
I’m not drunk like thinkle peep
I don’t know who is me yet
but the drunker I stand here
the longer I get
Just give me one more drink
to fill me cup
‘cuz I got all day sober
to Sunday up.

Well, I don’t hate my parents
I don’t get drunk just to spite them
I’ve got my own reasons to drink now
Think I’ll call my dad up and invite him
I can sleep in ’til noon anytime I want
Though there’s not many days that I do
Gotta get up and take on that world
When you’re an adult it’s no cliche, it’s the truth
‘Cause I’m an adult now
I’m an adult now
I’ve got the problems of an adult
On my head and on my shoulders
I’m an adult now

I can’t even look at young girls anymore
People will think I’m some kind of pervert
Adult sex is either boring or dirty
Young people they can get away with murder
I don’t write songs about girls anymore
I have to write songs about women
No more boy meets girl boy loses girl
More like man tries to figure out what the hell went wrong

‘Cause I’m an adult now
I’m an adult now
I’ve got the problems of an adult
On my head and on my shoulders
I’m an adult now

I can’t take any more illicit drugs
I can’t afford any artificial joy
I’d sure look like a fool lying dead in a ditch somewhere
With a mind full of chemicals like some cheese-eating high school boy

‘Cause I’m an adult now
I’m an adult now
I’ve got the problems of an adult
On my head and on my shoulders
I’m an adult now

Sometimes my head hurts and sometimes my stomach hurts
And I guess that it won’t be long
‘Til I’m sitting in a room with a bunch of people whose necks and backs are aching
Whose sight and hearing’s failing who just can’t seem to get it up
Speaking of hearing, I can’t take too much loud music
I mean I like to play it, but I sure don’t like the racket
Noise, but I can’t hear anything
Just guitars screaming, screaming, screaming
Some guy screaming in a leather jacket
Wooah!

‘Cause I’m an adult now
I’m an adult now
I’ve got the problems of an adult
On my head and on my shoulders
I’m an adult now

About 10 years ago I…
1. Was still old enough to go to a bar, unlike most of you young whippersnappers who also did this on their journals. ;p
2. Realized that I’d passed the maximum age I’d expected to live to, considering the self-destructive behaviour I’d indulged in for most of my life.
3. Threw a wake for myself as a birthday party as a kind of laying to rest of the self-destructive person I’d been.
4. Was living in New Jersey and running away to California every winter to get away from the snow.
5. Began to finally deal with the emotional traumas of the abusive relationships I’d had.

About 5 years ago I…
1. Had been back in the Bay Area for about a year.
2. Finally admitted to myself that my mother was an alcoholic and had begun to seriously lose control. She was starting to no longer be the functional alcoholic she’d been most of my life, and seemed to be going insane before my eyes.
3. Made the huge mistake of getting involved with Jeff.
4. Was diagnosed with PCOS and began taking classes on how to control it and keep the attendant other problems from going to a fatal stage, since there is as yet no cure.
5. Was awaiting publication of Club Dead with the piece I wrote for it included.

About 2 years ago I…
1. Finally put behind me the last of the insanity from Jeff’s treatment of me.
2. Admitted that I had a number of serious mental issues from having been raised by addicts, and began working to undo the damage.
3. Lived in three different places.
4. Began working at El Camino Hospital with in the next cubicle.
5. Got involved with Ancient Sites, and began to develop the kind of passion for writing I’d once had for artwork.

About 1 year ago I…
1. Was deeply in love with , the only one who ever treated me like I was worth anything, and edging closer and closer to the idea that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
2. Missed my 15 year class reunion.
3. Was forced to finally realize that some things don’t change, and had to end a friendship when my boundaries were significantly violated while on a trip to help someone in pain.
4. Admitted my LJ addiction and paid up for an account.
5. Realized that my recurring nightmares were trying to tell me something.

Today I…
1. Have come a long way toward dealing with the garbage from the past.
2. Have decided that I’m better off without a relationship while I work on the garbage, but sure wouldn’t mind a boytoy.
3. Find that there are times when I feel beautiful and/or sexy, which I never have when single and only have once while in a relationship (with .)
4. Finally accept that I can have boundaries and don’t need to be a doormat for everyone who comes along, and it doesn’t mean I’m a bitch for it.
5. Finally understand why my mom always said that the 30’s can be good, and for a little while everything really starts to come together and life is good.

So much of my childhood is a blank.

Chances are, if I tell a story from my childhood, it’s something someone else has told me about something that happened or something I did during childhood. I have nearly no memory before about the age of 12. Little bits and pieces, mere flashes. That’s all I have. Everything else got blocked out.

I’ve suspected for some time, and even mentioned to friends and a post or two in this journal, what I suspect caused the memories to disappear. If my most frequently recurring nightmare is any indication, I was sexually abused by my father. That, in combination with the generally awful conditions of being the child of addicts and having to deal with that, is probably all the explanation I need for the significant gaps in my memory.

What disturbs me lately is that some of my memories are starting to come back. And if the general tone of them is any indication, then there’s a whole lot more than what my nightmares have led me to believe was the cause of the blocked memories.

If the memories that are returning are an indication, there was very little in my so-called childhood that is worth remembering.

Now I know where the scar on the top of my left foot came from. I’ve always wondered where that perfectly circular scar came from, but couldn’t remember. I used to make up stories about where it came from, but I couldn’t remember at all.

Now that I remember, I think I prefer the stories, no matter how lurid those stories could be.

But, now I know where it came from, along with the scar in the palm of my right hand. The one in my hand is tiny. You can’t even really see it, it’s hidden by one of the lines. But if you know where to touch, you can feel it.

Nails. That’s what caused them. Nails, from the day the rabidly Fundamentalist Christian kids at my school got me alone, after they’d found out that I wasn’t Christian.

At least, if the garbage from those days is finally starting to surface, that means that I’ve finally reached the point when I’m able to face it. And facing the garbage is the first step to working through it.

It’s about two years ago now that I started working on the garbage. It began as working through the garbage from being a child of addicts. Under guidance of my sponsor, I began 12-stepping, since that often works not only for addicts, but for their children. Many of the behaviours the children of addicts have are learned from the addicts who raised them. Many of the same fucked-up attitudes, ideas, and reactions get ingrained. So, the 12 steps can apply, even if you don’t have an addiction of your own that you’re trying to kick.

12-stepping doesn’t work for everyone. But it has been working for me. I have changed a lot in these two years. I’ve learned confidence, real confidence. I used to be very good at faking it. People never knew how completely self-loathing I was, how little confidence I actually had. I was too good at putting up the front. But now, I can feel the difference, even if it’s not visible on the outside. I’ve also gotten back in touch with some of the qualities I used to have, before my parents’ addictions and my abusive boyfriends chased those things out of my life. has recognized it. He’s the one, as a matter of fact, that made me realize that I was getting back in touch with those things, that they weren’t gone forever as I’d thought that they were. Until he pointed it out to me, I just knew that I felt much better than I had in a very long time. More accepting of myself, more able to be silly and playful, more free to laugh and enjoy life.

Since I have begun to get a real handle on the behaviours that were mine because of circumstances of life with my parents, other things are coming back. Very slowly, little by little, bits and pieces of my life that I hadn’t been able to deal with, and shoved aside. Dealing with the first and largest pile of garbage has started a domino effect. One by one, the walls are falling. And I’m discovering that I’m now strong enough to deal with what was hidden behind them, as I wasn’t able to do when the walls went up.

I’m of mixed feelings about this. I don’t really want to remember some of the things I’m starting to remember. But on the other hand, getting the garbage dealt with, reducing it little by little, is making me feel better about myself and life in general than I have for a very long time.

When I remember these things, I realize it’s no wonder I’ve had problems with huge amounts of rage that were buried deep inside, and would spring up sometimes with the right triggers. It gives me hope that, as I deal with the events that first brought it into being, I’ll be able to eventually conquer it too.

As a lot of people who know me know, I love love love Edward Gorey. So of course, the moment I saw this over on ’s journal, I had to take the quiz.

You are most like Kate who was struck with an axe! Created by Thren. Which Gashlycrumb Tiny are you?

I know, how common of me… people get done in with an axe every day.

But I leave it up to friends who may take this one to be more unique. I’m satisfied with the axe. ;)

But funnier’n hell!

Secret Diaries of Cassandra Claire