Day 1, 2017

Hi, it's been *looks at last post* a while...a long while.

I live in Pittsburgh now. That happened in 2015. Pittsburgh is great. I stopped blogging a little before that process began because I was overwhelmed. My meds were all wrong, I had to get my old house ready to sell and had to find a place to live and new doctors and everything in Pittsburgh. It took longer than expected to find a new house, and it took about as long as expected to unload the old house (went into contract on the day we packed up our stuff to move).

I've been diagnosed with Bipolar and OCD now. That doesn't change much, but it changes how I try to manage my thoughts. And it's more of a balancing act to keep my meds correct. Too much help for OCD=hypomanic episodes. Hypomanic could become manic and then turn into paranoid delusions, which would cause the OCD symptoms to get worse, etc. It's such a joy.

Other updates--
In 2016, my poem Covalence was published in the poetry anthology Ardency for Animosity (Kindle version costs less than a dollar, so please check that out)
This past October I attended the World Fantasy Convention in Columbus, OH

In a little over a week I'll be visiting NYC. I'm going to try to blog more in general, but during that time I'll probably be more active on Twitter and Instagram.

The Joys of Being Psychotic

Trigger warning for mental health issues, suicidal ideation and disturbing content

I've been wanting to blog more, but also wanted to explain why I haven't been around. The short answer is that I've been sick. I guess I've always been sick in this way, but it just got to the point where I couldn't function all that well. I have been hallucinating and experiencing episodes of delusions for a long time…since my teens. It may sound strange to say that I got used to hallucinating, but I can usually tell the difference between reality and my brain throwing bullshit at me. The hallucinations also set in slowly, so I could adapt to the nonsense. Delusions are a whole different animal—the kind of animal that is really tough to explain.

I could always throw these occasional episodes into the “maybe depression symptoms” bin and move on once they passed. I only had one other time when the delusions were severe enough to be an impairment (I was too scared to leave my apartment), but I couldn't articulate why shit was getting weird for me and at the time my main problem was the fact that I couldn't sleep. I could hear everything. And I was living in an apartment that had neighbors all around so there were a lot of little noises to keep me awake. I figured that was why I was having problems. So I got medicated and eventually I could sleep again.

Fast forward to more recent times. I have no idea when this episode all started, but for a long time—a few years—the main images stuck in my head were extremely violent. It wasn't along the lines of “oh, I read something weird so now I'm going to think about it” or even “I wrote something fucked up and it's going to stick with me.” It was “I may be walking by the side of the road and there's no traffic but a car is going to come out of nowhere and crush me against this wall and my entrails will splatter across the sidewalk.” When I'd get stressed out the image that plagued my mind was that of me smashing my head repeatedly against something until my face was gone. This was constant. But this was also something that I didn't think of as unreasonable because the images were just so unreasonable that I knew they were impossible. I didn't honestly think those things were going to happen, but the images were always there and that constant exposure to such things didn't make me feel all that good. (When the images got more realistic—as in things that I could feasibly do to myself—then that’s when I'd know I was really suicidal or could possibly hurt myself.)

So I had my regular depression and insomnia (staying awake for 3-4 days at a time), and this underpinning of fucked up images running wild through my mind whenever they felt like it. Last summer I started taking Paxil—which had helped me in the past but made things worse this time around. Then something triggered an episode of paranoid delusions…I know what it was and I don't want to talk about that. But the delusions triggered the hallucinations. And shit got real. I could no longer tell the difference between reality and hallucinations. And the more often I experienced these lapses in reality, the more intense they became. Luckily I had an upcoming therapist appointment and a medication management appointment, and I went into the psych office in the middle of a psychotic break. I barely avoided being put in-patient, but they'd been impressed with my coping skills prior to this so I got to chill at home rather than in the hospital.

They diagnosed me with Bipolar I with Psychotic Features—I think that was in early September. Since then I've been figuring out what that means exactly and trying different medications. I've had bad reactions to so many medications…strange reactions that don't make sense. Reactions that made me even less functional when I really needed to be functional. I also had a couple suicidal episodes that entered the “planning” phase. I've been close to going in-patient a few times, but I managed to get through it.

I’m on Zoloft now, which is helping in general, but without all the intrusive images and noise in my head the hallucinations have stayed pretty clear. That wasn't something I was expecting to happen. They’re not as scary as they were at their worst so I guess I'll take this improvement.

So that's where I've been. I didn't really accomplish much in the last few months, but I decided to not beat myself up over it because that wouldn't be very helpful. I'm still a First Reader for Crossed Genres and I was Co-ML for Centre County for NaNoWriMo. I didn't get close to winning NaNoWriMo though, but oh well. I'm looking forward to reading more and writing more and editing more and just getting everything back on track as I'm able to.

And I do have some kind of funny stories about hallucinations to share once I figure out how to write about them in a non-terrifying way.

Gender, Roadside Signs And Randomness

Well, I've missed a few posts due to having to go back to Ohio on short notice last week. I've been sick this week--flu-like fun. And I'll be heading back to Ohio to attend my great uncle's funeral at the beginning of next week.
Other than that, I do have some random things to share with you today...

There's been some debate about gender and book covers happening in many places this week...It was all kicked off by Maureen Johnson on Twitter, and has resulted in Coverflip: Maureen Johnson Calls for an end to Gendered Book Covers with an Amazing Challenge (Images), and this The Most Incongruous Book Covers of All Time--those are especially odd to look at.

And today I watched this video about Gender in Advertising-- I love the reversed gender roles portion at the end, especially the Marlboro woman...


And to round out our gender extravaganza I'm including Paul Richmond's Cheesecake Boys and I'll throw in The Hawkeye Initiative for good measure.

Unrelated to gender, but related to book covers--
Good Show Sir--the worst in Science Fiction/Fantasy book covers

Here are a couple roadsigns I've been meaning to share. These are actually to the south of where I live. I really didn't notice the elephant when I took this picture because everything was grey and it just blended into the surroundings. Yeah, really. I'm not sure if We Got Stuff is still in use....

...but this hotel is not. You could buy it though, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a great business venture because there's not much of anything out that way. I really like that the sign advertises the presence of color TV's and phones in the rooms. Then there's the bright yellow roof which is probably the only reason I noticed it.

There's also a place with some signs advertising a hotel further up the road, but the hotel sign and an empty lot are all that remain once you arrive.


And this last picture is in honor of my birthday weekend. I'm turning 30 on May 12th and don't have anything much planned to celebrate it. I thought this picture was pretty absurd...

What I want for my birthday is for whatever viral illness I have to go away, and to find the presser foot screw for my sewing machine.The presser foot screw has earned the distinction of being the most annoying item that I've ever lost...And I've actually been to JoAnn Fabrics since it went missing, but it's so insignificant that I can't remember that I need to buy another....ugh

Settled in the new house, missed a Poe birthday post

The title basically sums it up. I'm at the house in Pennsylvania and it's quite nice. We have the dining room set up to serve the purposes of a dining room, library and bar. It's almost perfect, but we need a better table. I plan on posting some pictures soon.

Yesterday was Edgar Allan Poe's 204th birthday and I didn't post about it because I am infinitely naughty. I did spend the time working on writing a Horror story and drinking gin. I was too sleepy to bust into the absinthe, but that may well happen tonight.

Interesting links: Auditory hallucinations, autopsies and Victorian death rituals

This is an interesting video that simulates the experience of auditory hallucinations. When I've had auditory hallucinations it was quite like this, but usually I can't understand what the voices are saying.

A guide for writing autopsies
I so far don't have a use for that link, but I find this quite interesting.

Morbid Anatomy

Morbid Outlook's article "Funerary Practices in the Victorian Era"

Victorian Funeral Customs and Superstitions 

Medicating the Darkest Darkness

I've been in a foul, but reflective mood the past month or two. I found some medicated clarity and don't like my surroundings. I'm going to figure out how to change that. Right now I'm at a loss beyond making some superficial changes, so join me in listening to some happy music.

Memorial Service, Hop Against Homophobia Winner

The memorial service I went to was pretty intense because I had tried to put aside my emotions to deal with later, and that was apparently the later. The part that got to me the most was the fact that she had been cremated and her jewelry had not. So, in the pitcher of ashes was a watch that I had always seen on my Nana's wrist. That made it real. The presence of her watch made it undeniable that those ashes were once a body, and not something I could explain away as something else.

Other than that, I've been trying to finish a few projects this week, and had a job interview. During my current job hunt, it struck me that something massive has changed about me as a person and I'm not sure what it is. It's good, but interesting. If the current incarnation of me had met the me from about ten years ago, I wouldn't have liked me.

In my giveaway for the Hop Against Homophobia, wulf was the winner. I will get that sent out Friday or Saturday.

Hop Against Homophobia: Giveaway, Iran, The Suicide Grove

Hi. Thanks for stopping by. I'm J. Lannan and it may not be the best time to host my first giveaway and be involved in a blog hop when my first m/m romance-type story won't be out until later this year-- I also have a job interview this morning, and will be out of town for a memorial service for a couple days-- but this is the time I have so I might as well use it.

May 17th is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia and this blog is participating in the Hop Against Homophobia.Click on the picture in order to visit the other blogs involved.





Each blog is doing a giveaway of some sort and here is mine. Since I don't have any extra copies of magazines with my poetry and essays in them I am giving away some random LGBT swag. (Note: I'll probably find something else to add before the hop is over and will add that to the list, or just include it as a surprise)

One Pack of Meiji Hello Panda cookies--they're cute, strawberry-flavored and could be considered snacks that pair well with reading-related activities...
One Rainbow Wristband--I notice a 50% increase in flirting when I wear my rainbow wristband so it must be imbued with magical powers of some kind. (Blog owner not responsible if your wrist band does not have magical powers)
Two Badges--One has a hot dog in a raincoat with "always protect your weenie" printed on it, and the other says "Deal With It" in rainbow lettering

That list almost made me sound orderly...almost. So, in order to be entered to win my giveaway leave a comment on this post and include your e-mail address, or twitter info so I can contact you. When I get back in town on the 21st I'll randomly pick someone and send you a message to get your info.

Here are my two comments on homophobia since the blog hop tackles that issue. The first section discusses Iran's death penalty for homosexuality, and the second is a look at bullying and suicide through imagery I pulled from Dante Alighieri's Inferno. Intermission is exactly as it sounds.

Iran Executes Gay Men 

I've been told that I have a gift for shining a different kind of light upon dark subjects, but as I write this I realize that I have trouble bringing my kind of light to a situation that is so horrific and extends far beyond the harassment, name-calling and rock-throwing that I've personally been on the receiving end of.

In college I majored in History and studied Iran's judicial system. It's a sad and corrupt system that often forces confessions via torture. I've always found myself drawn to the study of injustice because I have grand schemes about making the world a better place for everyone. I know that's a Miss America World Peace kind of statement, but it's true. One of the only things I kept around from being raised Catholic was the concept of do unto others as your would have done unto yourself, but even that is a pretty common sense concept.

Several years ago Mahmoud Ahmadinejad claimed that there were no gays in Iran. His American audience laughed. While his delusional nature may be amusing sometimes, the treatment of gays in Iran is no laughing matter. It may surprise you, or may not if you know the region, that consensual sex between men is punishable by death in Iran (and in other parts of the world). During my research I even watched an interrogation video in which a man had kidnapped another man to keep as a sex slave. One was obviously a victim (his teeth were bashed out), but when punishment was handed out both men were executed.
The Iranian judiciary just determined that four men will be executed for consensual sexual activities. The Jerusalem Post has that article.
In 2005 two gay teenagers were executed for the same crime.

These events are happening in this day and age, and I feel stranded on an island of inability because I can't do anything substantial about it other than pass the information along wherever I am able. So this is the information I give to you.

Intermission

Being a Historian left me with this empty feeling of inability. I've heard stories about Historians being epic alcoholics for this very reason--well, that, and no one listens to Historians and History repeats itself if left forgotten...it's a frustrating field. So, where does an angsty, detail-obsessed person who harbors a compelling case of nascent alcoholism turn? Yes, become a writer. It was so obvious.

I still write essays, but now I write other things as well because I want to explore topics instead of theories. Writing gives me a platform, and if you're going to stand on a platform you better have something that you want to say.

The Grove

As I've mentioned before, I was raised Catholic and you can probably guess where I'm going with this...or not. Where earning a History degree left me frustrated with my lack of ability to change History the conformity of Catholicism I attempted to force upon myself left me with a lack of identity. It took me a long time to figure myself out after being told that everything I did could send me to the hell fire. Catholics are a little more subtle than other denominations, but the hell fire is still there. And it can give you quite a sense of hopelessness to live in a constant state of internal and external scrutiny that is simply incompatible with what you feel is true about yourself and the world. I now bring you to the universal topic of bullying and suicide that plagues so many kids in the LGBT community as well as those kids who are just different. I was twelve when I first attempted suicide. I don't really want to discuss the why, or how, or what right now because they're not part of this story, but this next section is the story.

Due to my long-term intimate relationship with suicidal thoughts, the Catholic belief system, and my Italian heritage I took a morbid solace in Dante Alighieri's Inferno. In the middle ring of the 7th Circle of Hell the people who committed suicide exist as gnarled and bleeding thorn bushes that are terrorized by harpies. The suicidal will never regain their bodies after The Final Judgment, but will have their corpses hung from their thorn bushes. (I told you it was morbid) This is the imagery I always return to when thinking about suicide, but I think of it differently because my relationship with nature is stronger than my relationship with the concept of hell.

I invite you to walk with me through the grove of the suicides. At first I feel peace because there is the notion of a quiet comfort in death. The struggle is over, it's true, but that's it...death is the end. We can just keep walking, though. We're not staying. The trees are all thorns and scabs. It's a sign of obvious pain, and the trees now bleed when injured, but in life the pain is not as obvious as a twisted mass of bleeding thorn branches. The scabs reopen old wounds, and the thorns harm those who get too close. It is a desperate situation. Depression puts up barriers or causes people to lash out, but suicide creates a death with painful memories for those who longed to be closer to the victim. Each memory doesn't simply contain the sadness of loss, but also an added nuance of pain because they could not reach the victim.

To me the harpies represent the reasons and torments that lead people to take their own lives, but as you'll notice the harpies are alive and still active to continue their torment. And even trying to understand this torment assails those left behind. Schools do too little, people don't care enough, and pain goes unrecognized, but after another life is lost everyone looks back and points to incidents and people. What good does it do now? Maybe we can stop them from tormenting anyone else, but I think the most important approach is to teach love and compassion. I think people don't love enough.

I want you to know that if you've wandered through the grove of the suicides you should know that you're not alone even though the path seems empty when you're there.


Wow, that was more of a downer than I expected... and I wanted to end with some love.


Here's "Pure" by The Lightning Seeds

Jehovah's Witnesses, Funeral Biscuits and the Sandworm

As had been expected my Nana passed away on Friday evening. Here is her obituary. On Thursday when she looked pretty bad I made a prediction that the Jehovah's Witnesses that I can't seem to break up with would stop by that day because they usually show up on Thursdays, I hadn't seen them in a while and they ALWAYS stop by to read scripture when I'm incredibly stressed out. And their readings are always applicable to that day. It's eerie.
Saturday morning...there they were. And their scripture reading was about predicting the future. I kid you not.
So, I smiled nervously as they did their reading, handed me their little magazines and went on their way.

In addition to that strangeness I have been researching Victorian funeral customs and I really like the idea of funeral biscuits. And I discovered why opening an umbrella while in a home is considered bad luck-"Dropping an umbrella on the floor or opening one in the house means that there will be a murder in the house." That was from the Friends of Oak Grove Cemetery's post about Victorian funeral customs, superstitions and fears.

I'm debating if I'm still in shock over the death of my Nana because it seems surreal as to how fast it happened, but I think I accepted it so readily because she was always an active person and I don't think she would have wanted to hold onto life in a nursing home while in pain from an illness that was taking over from the inside. It's unfair, it's horrific and I never got a chance to say goodbye because she was unresponsive so quickly...but life can be disappointing and doesn't always go as planned. You could drive yourself crazy trying to get a firm hold on the things you cannot control, or you can just let go and see what happens.
And now I have this mental image of that sandworm from the Beetlejuice movie stuck in my head...
I guess if a sandworm is what we're all going to encounter on the other side I suggest you punch it in the nose...
like a shark, or an uppity dolphin

Decline and Distractions

I've been dragging this week due to the impending death of a family member. I had been thinking about making the trip up to see my Nana one last time, but she has been unresponsive and I'd rather my last memories of her be associated with when I visited after her surgery in October. During that surgery a tumor had been removed from her jaw and the side of her face was stitched up vertical below her eye. Even though she was unable to talk at that time, she was awake and wrote on her dry erase board, "I bet I look like Halloween."
Her rapid decline has been quite shocking because everyone had just found out that the cancer had spread on Monday morning.
So, I've been doing my best to distract myself which so far has involved sleeping, clearing my desk and playing Skyrim instead of working on my writing. I have submitted two things to publishers this month so far and I'm trying to finish up two more flash fictions by the end of the month, but we'll see how that goes.

Here are some images that are also kind of distracting. Not last weekend, but the weekend before I went to Sexapalooza. It's a consumer sex show and there were a lot of Burlesque performers and dancers of various types. Also included were seminars and opportunities to buy various products of a sexual nature. I wasn't impressed with the museum of sex because it was pretty much posters with some facts printed on them, and then some vintage underwear hanging up that wasn't all that inspiring (I've done more risque google searches), but here are pictures of some of the performers.