Thanksgiving Mayhem

My stepfather has a gigantic family. Gi-gan-tic. They're descendants of Welsh immigrants that came to South Jersey in... get this... the 17th century. Yep. And they all stayed, more or less, right where they settled, for over 300 years. Brilliant. Only in America... sort of.

So, at the Thanksgiving Reunion yesterday, there were 140 B___'s present. 140! But there was one person present that really stood out: my step-nephew M.

M. was diagnosed with schizophrenia not too long ago, and had some trepidation about coming down to the circus that is the B___ Thanksgiving. He was doing quite well--he's got some awesome medications now--and I got to talk to him for a while.

Why is this important?

Because I'm bipolar. And because my early 20s --the age he is now-- were equally full of family strife, unemployment, and struggle for normalcy. While we didn't get into the trading of war stories, I could tell it was comforting for him to speak with someone who knew, at least in part, what it's like to live with a brain that makes you suffer.

My mother saw us talking and promptly burst into tears. Those years were traumatic for her as well, but now with things so much better (knock on wood), she felt an immense relief knowing that I could speak with M. without getting sucked down into despair.

And for that she was grateful. And I am grateful. And M., though he struggles, is also grateful that he was able to find a little corner of comfort in the chaos that is Thanksgiving at the Fellowship Hall.

Gratitude. And Hope.

NaBloPoMo October

So, I just discovered NaBloPoMo online. It's like NaNoWriMo, only you don't have to write anything necessarily coherent and/or publishable, just write 31 posts in 31 days. A challenge! It's not easy! A friend of mine tried to do it back in May, and she failed miserably, making it through maybe a week before she gave up. Albeit, she was writing a chapter of her dissertation at the time, and really didn't have time to actually post about anything except the deadlines that were making her crazy.

So, this month's topic is "VOTE". Alright. Here's my sitchy:

I live deep in the belly of NJ, a red county in a blue state. My father's cousin is a great big bigot that somehow got my email address and sends me horrible emails about how Obama is a Muslim, how he is unpatriotic, and other random b.s. about putting up a fence between the U.S. and Mexico to keep the undesirable immigrants out. To which I say, I hope you're enjoying that South Jersey tomato, Cousin Charlie. Wanna know who picked it?

Today, interestingly enough I saw a Prius in Hometown, NJ. A Prius--rare in these parts--with a McCain sticker on the back. Wha-wha-whaaat? One of these things is not like the other.

So, I'm thinking about heading down to Obama HQ and seeing if I can help out in winning the election so that it can put people like Cousin Charlie in their right place. Not because of his politics--I respect conservatives even though I don't agree with them. But I cannot abide his xenophobic and reactionary, nonsensical vitriol that holds less water than a slotted spoon.

The debate is tomorrow. I'm going to go to Local Bar and watch, if there's no Eagles game on. If the Eagles are playing, then there's no hope to see Biden tap dance around Sarah Palin's gender; train wreck of a moron that she is, everything that Biden does will be scrutinized for condescention and sexism.

Go, Joe! South Jersey believes in you! (Or at least this SJ Diner Girl does!)

My Parents' Basement

I brought up a piece of old furniture tonight from my parents' basement-- a particle board desk that used to hold my old Macintosh IIc back in the mid-90s. It has slots on the side of it for CD-ROMs, dating it significantly. Now I need slots for all the various external hard drives I have! (One for photos, one for music, one for failed NaNoWriMo projects, etc.)

I set up the desk in the front bedroom of the apartment, which I've decided will be my office. I'm going to get a chaise longue.. or maybe just swipe one of the old twin foam mattresses (also from my parents' basement), throw a fitted sheet over it and use it as a place to flop when I need a break from writing.

NaNoWriMo is coming up, and I need to start thinking about my upcoming novel. I've always had this idea in my head (well, ever since high school) about writing a novel based on the principles of electrochemistry. Since I graduated from HS about 8 billion years ago, all of my knowledge of electrochemistry has since been cast to the four winds.

But there's my parents basement, treasure trove that it is, that has my chemistry book from college-- I wish it were my chemistry textbook from HS, but those we weren't allowed to keep. (And if I remember correctly, my HS bf ensured that I had his former copy of the book, where he had left clandestine notes to me in pencil that I was to erase when I returned the book at the end of the school year. Kind of romantic.)

Either way, I figure I'll spend the next few days working on a scheme for NaNoWriMo and refreshing my principles of ionization.

Ooop! I'm late for work! Gotta run.