phoenixastraea: (Mah Bazookah Face)
"...Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"

I shall always remember you this way, sweet Prince.

I'll remember a time when a much younger version of myself fell head over heels in love with a ruggedly handsome Celtic Prince, destined to lead his people.  I would grow to admire you as you took on fun roles like A Knights Tale and 10 Things I Hate about You and then love you even more as Ennis Del Mar and eventually, the Joker.  It wasn't easy to try to sway my allegiance to Jack Nicholson, but you could have pulled it off.

I didn't know you.  Maybe its inappropriate for me to mourn.  Yet, you were young and full of life and should have had many more years on this earth.  I think that is worth mourning that someone only 2 years my senior left this earth so young for any reason.  I choose to remember you this way. 

"I know your life on earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Son, you work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and Son"
~Vince Gill: Go rest High on That Mountain
phoenixastraea: (Vincent Stars)
First of all, some sad news.

RIP, Luciano.  The heavenly choir is now a thousand times sweeter.  

Luckily the wacky Gchat hijinx of Ben and I never fail to deliver: 

i'm debating which is winning, my lethargic inability to walk to the kitchen, or my need to wake up.
me: lol probably the lethargy
Ben: evil lethargy! sounds like a bond villian to me.  I am Lord Lethargy!
me: Put him up against Dr. No and NOTHING gets accomplished!
Ben: lol  2 points


I had a damn hard time getting to sleep last night.  Perhaps I can blame it on the O'Neill I was reading.   As magnificent as it is, Long Day's Journey into Night isn't exactly made of lullabyes and comfort.  It made me miss college; Fall at UVA was always one of the best and most beautiful times of my life.  It made me miss my Puff, who always kept me company on my lap while I was reading plays or novels or poetry.  It made me miss a lot of things.

Well, I'm sure the headache I had most of yesterday didn't help either.  My eyes are getting worse and its probably from peering at the screen all day with shoddy lenses.  Blargh. 

Maybe I'll sketch some tonight with some tea.  Have some fun getting messy with charcoal. Hmmm. 

RennFest is coming up very soon! I can't wait to squeeze myself back into my Renfest outfit! WOOHOO! Maybe I'll attend Pirate singalong night!  Or Celtic music night...OH awesomeness.   

I wish I could scoop up my flist and drag them along to Renfest!! =^)

Update: These look like the absolute shit.  Holy crap, I could be like Geordi...but instead I could be watching House or Heroes!!
phoenixastraea: (My Prince...)
At 5am this morning, my beloved Puff passed away in my arms.  I don't think it was too painful, but she was a fighter to the last, striving for each and every breath.  I never knew a cat that so loved life as she did. 

I love you, baby girl.  My Puffbear.  Puffernut.  Puffball.  Puff-puff.  As I type this through my tears, I hope you're happy on the other side.  I miss you already and dedicate this little poem to you.  Its more accepting than I feel right now, but I thank God that you died peacefully in my arms rather than in a vets office.  You loved the creature comforts of home so much...

Rest in Peace, baby.  We had a great 20 years, didn't we...I'm glad you saw your 20th birthday.

4/8/1987 - 7/31/07

Crossing the Bar, Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home!

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For though from out our bourn of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
phoenixastraea: (Dont Let Go...)

...before I let this topic go gently into that good night.    I think I'm going to follow in the footsteps of [personal profile] lalaith86  and make one last post about this topic before moving on with my life.  Like she said, I just have to.  It's affecting my sleep, my mood, my work, and now, more importantly, my interactions with some of my best friends in the business because of differing viewpoints on the wrestler, the man, his actions, and their possible motivations.  

People are desperately looking for ways to cope.  Short of pretending none of this happened, I support any and all ways for people to deal with this, whether I agree with them or not.  Unfortunately, what should be bringing us all together to comfort each other is starting to rip us apart.  Forums are crashing and their members are starting flame wars.  I've noticed or heard about people making nasty comments on personal journals or in communities, saying that "this post disgusts me" and make other such comments directly attacking the speaker without even comprehending what is being said.  This....this sort of garbage HAS to stop.  I know a lot of these occurences are isolated but they disgust me nonetheless.  For anyone that this has happened to, who has been proverbially kicked when they were down and in pain, you get Double-Stuf hugs from me.  

My bottom line: my buddy [personal profile] greyjedisaid on one of my posts that the man died twice: once as a man and another time as a hero.  I think nothing sums it up quite so well.  We're all in deep mourning.  Some of us have moved on to indignant rage and hopefully, on from there, through the grace of Time and other factors, to peace and understanding.  Again, we may not even find understanding; if that is the case I hope we still can find a measure of peace; something to numb the nightmarish horror of the past few days.  Of monstrous details that refuse to be burned from our minds no matter how much we try to refocus ourselves.  I wish I could wake up and forget: I can't.  At the risk of starting another potential shit-storm, I'll say that I'm angry at the lives that have been ruined by this.  I'm angry at the horrible undermining of trust and memory for those who knew him and loved him;  the second-guessing and horrible speculation of what might have been or what should have been or what could have been done to prevent this, if anything.  My heart goes out most especially to people like Dean Malenko, Chavo, Edge, Bret Hart, Chris Jericho, and of course, his two surviving kids; I can't imagine what it must be like for them.  Then you have the most potent tragedy for us as fans, of not being able to forget when you most want to; when dark thoughts and reminders pop up when you most want to remember and respect him for his talent and the great things he did accomplish.  Perhaps time will allow us to have that again; right now, I'm not there.  I'm angry.  Enraged, really, at the pointless loss of life and about this horrible stain left on 10 years of beautiful memories that I had.  That we all had.  And other things that I will not go into here.

Like I said before, we're a family; perhaps a dysfunctional one, but a close-knit one nonetheless.  I love you all.  If you want to talk about it, like Sila suggested in her post, lets do it here.  I, for one, will be trying to recompose myself and move on to my other obsessions.  Nice to have fixations, eh? (Pen, I'm looking at you! ;^)  As it is, I've got a nice TMNT fic in the works (non-slash) that I'm gonna use as distraction. 

phoenixastraea: (Dont Let Go...)
I'm sorry for seemingly posting every hour on the hour.  Guess I need another outlet.  I'm also trying to post helpful links. 

Well, here's one more...but to an article that says just what I'm feeling.

Thank you, Scott Hudson, for putting your anger and grief into such lovely words.
phoenixastraea: (Default)

phoenixastraea: (Dont Let Go...)
phoenixastraea: (Dont Let Go...)

Remember him this way, my friends.

We're all in terrible pain over this.  I'm LOSING it watching JBL tear up, watching these beautiful matches, watching him tell a story in the ring...watching him throw on that Crippler Crossface....things we wont see again.

But remember him this way. 

phoenixastraea: (Summerslam Embrace)
Last night I had a really great dinner with my buddy Josh, in which we ended up talking about our current life situation.  He also mentioned that my LJ has been totally uninteresting to him because of all my wrestling markout moments, so I figured it would be a good time to oblige him.  ;^)  I hadn't vented about RL stuff on here in a while anyway.

In all seriousness, it made me think of something that a friend of mine posted on his MySpace bulletin about a quarter life crises.  I may reproduce it here if I get a chance, but it basically talked about the horrible, liminal phase that many of us are going through right now.  Truly, it seems like one of the worst transition phases  that we can go through because the rest of our lives are looming ahead of us right at this very minute.  Not high school, not college.  Life.  And its fucking scary. 

I remember feeling something similar to this when I graduated from undergrad.  I got out, had a decent job in the government business and was earning a fairly decent amount of cash when I started feeling my soul slipping away.  So, I did the natural thing; I went back to grad school to find it again among the hallowed halls of my beloved alma mater, UVA also known as the best fucking university in the world.  (/pride moment).  I started to find it again; part of it was having my own apartment at a ridiculously reasonable rate, having it furnished like I could live there forever, earning my Masters Degree and feeling like I had some direction for once.   The more education classes I took, the more I felt like I could do something with this degree and make a difference in my life and in others'.  Then, before I knew it, two years was up and I'm left with a stellar piece of paper in my hands, a great thesis (if I do say so myself) and so much debt that I could cry. what?  After busting my ass to find a teaching job (competing with other UVA grads who were certified) to no avail, I boomerang home where I get to see my wonderful family more often, but find myself a wreck again.   Where am I going? What the fridge am I going to do with myself?  I feel like I still need to figure myself out...that I've gone head over heels in a sensory deprivation chamber and I'm fighting to find the light again, find my balance.  

There are moments when I feel absolutely confident and secure; those are counterbalanced by the moments when I hit absolute rock bottom, hating myself, my place in life, my looks, my faults, my debts, my restrictions, and every other superficial thing there is to be upset/irritated/angry about.  I hear about every other person from my high school class either getting engaged, getting married, or having kids and it freaks the shit out of me.  I've had my chances, to be sure...and I wasn't ready, but I can't help feeling the pressure, knowing that I'm here at 25 and people I know are living the dream with the love of their life (possibly), secure jobs, double incomes, and 2.5 kids.  I wonder if I'll ever be able to get my shit together, because it sure don't feel like that right now.  

I think Josh summed it up perfectly last night;  "[we're] fucking smart, single, confused, and living at home".  

Hey, at least we've got each other...because I don't know about you all, but nearly everyone I've talked to feels something similar.   I suppose we can be grateful for the small favors...
phoenixastraea: (Come live with me and be my love)
Gah, I really need to stop watching CSI. For real. If anything else, its gotten about ten times as depressing. Tonights episode about the four different murders was ridiculous. 

Maybe I'm just being picky because I've been feeling drained for weeks now.  I've got a good job, but one of my coworkers is driving me batshit crazy and I'm not doing what I want to do.  On the upside, I'm getting paid, which is a plus.  I love my family but they're nagging me almost on a daily basis to get my ass in gear to get a career instead of just a job.  Without going into details, my family has been going through some hard and stressful times, and one family member in particular might have something seriously physically wrong with her.  I'm terrified of that but I'm dealing.  In addition to all that, I feel that I cannot...absolutely CANNOT get rid of the oppressive feelings of guilt, dissatisfaction, restlessness, and anger.  There are seriously moments when I feel like my namesake, burning right up from heart turning to ash.  Right now, after all the transitions, after all the stress of the past month...I may be in the throes of a depression, or just a deep funk.  

I do have a lot to be thankful for...Time to slough off the emo and rise from the ashes...

Edit: OHOHOH Sorry, I promised LOLZ....I must deliver!!

Call this the first part to the Catapult Gif. 

phoenixastraea: (Salvation)
Wow...would it be in poor taste for me to say, "CRIKEY!!"  ? 

I couldn't believe it when I saw the news today.  Its both horrible and ironic in the way that he died, with a stingray's barb through his heart!  Its absolutely heartwrenching but also sadly expected that he might die at the hands of one of his more deadly pursuits.  Even still, its a terrible loss because he was so dedicated to education and conservation no matter the danger and the risk to himself. 

RIP, Steve Irwin...I'll miss you. 

In other news, I am absolutely thrilled to feel the onset of autumn, probably my favorite season of all time.  The new year is just right around the corner and it feels really great. 

I also have a question/challenge for you, flist: what should I say when I meet Mssrs. Shatner and Nimoy so that I don't sound like just another fangirl?  

phoenixastraea: (OMG WTF?!)
phoenixastraea: (Stars...)

For those of you Wodehouse virgins out there, my uproariously hilarious title to this post is from "Jeeves Saves the Cow Creamer" from Jeeves and Wooster, Season 1.  I've just had the good fortune to have been given this lovely DVD set by my dear Glenn for graduation.  Really funny stuff.  Its strange, but the aforementioned dialogue in my title seems to fit with what's been going on with my life.  

Its awful, but I find myself growing solemn and pensive at the strangest moments.  Moments when I should be absurdly happy, moments like when I'm shopping for shoes, looking at books, spending time with my dear, and organizing my room.  Perhaps its all the O'Neill that I've been reading lately, but I've really felt a slow depression of spirit come upon me.  For the life of me, I really don't know why its happening but I really feel stressed.  Again, quoting Bertie "why dickens?"  My 19 year old cat is in great health, I just graduated with an MA from a great school, I've got the best friends around, my family is doing well, and I haven't yet killed my rose or my Venus flytrap!  What's my problem? 

One big issue is that I haven't yet found a job. Again, its not something one should get discouraged about, since this is how life goes...but I had really hoped to have made a more seamless transition into the working world with the level of degree I just earned.  I've posted tons of places and am currently waiting on the University to see whether or not I'd be good for any large number of admin jobs.  I also just received my payment stubs to repay my student loans.  I haven't dared look at them yet because I don't even want to start stressing about when I've got to start paying them back and how much extra it's going to cost me each month.  I'll save that jolly task for tomorrow.  My rent is also going up in August and good lord, I know I'm running through my savings just to get by.  This isn't even considering all the other bills. Oh lord, its time for a drink. 

It's also summer, which means that I get to start watching all these skinny little twits running around in barely-there bikini's and my defenses against societies stupid aesthetic pressures start to fracture and crumble.  Its pathetic of me, I know...and whining won't help.  The damn gym will.  Time to get back my fencing legs.  I wasn't feeling quite so bad until I saw how rounded my face looked in my graduation photos.  

So, why am feeling like this when I should be feeling more hunky-dory?  What is it about my particular personality that seems to prevent me from really enjoying a sense of great accomplishment? Is it my foresight (i.e., my looking immediately ahead to what the next task needs to be)?  My perfectonist nature? 

Ick, whatever.  I need a punching bag or something. 

phoenixastraea: (Elrond Peredhil)
Well, its been a few days since I've been on here. I spent a great weekend at home, enjoying peace and tranquillity that I haven't felt in a while. Nothing really does that like home.

Of course, now that the thesis has been completed for now, I have to worry about a job since I'm apparently planning on sticking around for at least another year and would like to have the finances to back me up on this. The first job fell through, but I am ever hopeful that something better awaits me. I'm trying to hop on those 'somethings' right now. (For those of you with sick minds...I applaud you. I would have jumped on the innuendos as well. Good job. ;^)

I also have the rest of my classes to finish up. This may seem like a huge whine, but there are days when I am truly astonished at how 'adult' life wont let us rest for a single moment. Every time I go home, I try to recapture or rediscover the innocent joy and rapture I felt as a little girl growing up in that house. Every time, it eludes me. I try to lay down on the ground and gaze up at the cloud-filled sky, waiting for that ecstasy I felt as a child looking upon the immense possibility of the world. I can't find it. Instead, I think about how dangerous this was for me as a child, to be alone with the beautiful, wild world, where I could have been easily scooped up by predators or kidnappers. Or maybe the pesticides we use to fertilize our grass will irritate my skin. Blech.

Is this all that is left to us as adults? This sickening feeling that we'll never get back the innocence or happiness of our youth? That all that remains is knowledgable, weary, bitterness that every day holds the same stressors and same predictable events as the last?

Goddess help me, I'm going to stop now...since I'd like not to think that I'm this pessimistic about life. In fact, I am ever hopeful that I'll find Little Heather again. Until then, let the job search begin again!


Apr. 10th, 2006 11:57 pm
phoenixastraea: (Who put what...)
I am so desperately unhappy write now. I don't even want to write about it now because it will remind me of all that I have yet to do and the short time in which I must accomplish these things.

Lets just say that in one small email, my entire sense of scholastic self-confidence has been utterly obliviated. I don't even know why I'm here. Whether its true or not, I feel like a complete failure at the moment.

I feel unintelligent, uninspired, unmotivated, incapable, and absolutely overcome.

As my beloved Sting once sang, "It hasn't been the best of days...I'd like to fly away..."
phoenixastraea: (Bitch)
Shakespeare was right; the ides of March suck. 

Long story short, I didn't get the job.  I really had my hopes up.  It would have solved multiple problems in one swoop: professional development, good administration, a local job, certification within a year, etc. 

Needless to say, I'm acutely disappointed.  More crushed than I should be.  I honestly feel like a weenie.

Oh well.  I'm just going to refer this day to my icon.
phoenixastraea: (Default)
My God. What a weekend. I had no idea what sh*t I would be stepping into when I went home.

Everything started off well, I suppose. It was wonderful to see the grandparents again and the rest of the family. Unfortunately, things went downhill from there, with a few ups in between.

A day or so after I went home, I got a call from a friend of mine who had some bad news to report. My ex's sister, who was an angel of a girl, had about 2 weeks to a month to live due to a virulent brain cancer that was discovered about a year ago. I had no idea her condition had worsened to this extent, but then again I hadn't spoken to my ex since we broke up. I had heard that they had one more try at an effective medication. As always, I hoped against hope.

I got a call a day later from Casey. She had passed away. At 19 years old.

She was a lovely, vivacious girl, energetic and witty. I attended her graduation, watching her cross the stage to the next stage of her life. I heard about all the classes she intended to take. She wanted to take fencing, and I hoped to teach her some when she had started. I still can't believe shes gone.

For the next few days, all energy and happiness seemed to drain from me. Nothing really seemed to matter anymore. While I should have been intensely thankful at all I had in comparison to others, the entire situation just made me angry at what life seems to throw at other people, especially John. His sister endured so much pain in the year she went through this, a beautiful girl who was so ready to start college and begin what promised to be a joyful and inspired life. In addition to that, one of their huskies had to be put down, part of his jaw had to be removed, and some fuckwad hoodlums did several thousand dollars of damage to his lovely car.

Had the abstract known as Life taken the form of another human being, I would currently be in jail on a murder charge.

This of course, was just the beginning of the week. Most of the rest of my time at home was spent metaphorically bleeding for other people. Nausea, sleepless nights, and the thought of Death became my bedfellows. On top of all this, my aunt's family is going through more tough times than I care to explain and she had a complete meltdown.

She wasnt just at the end of her rope; her rope snapped, and mom and I took the brunt of all of the built-up anger, fear, guilt, frustration, anxiety, stress, etc. I haven't cried that much in a long time. We all rallied around her, however, and supported her in the end. We're not yet on easy speaking terms, but I can always hope that this too shall pass.

On a positive note, Casey and I were able to bring a little bit of happiness and life back to John's life through friendship, support, laughter, and several bottles of good ol Guinness. If anything gave me hope and peace through all this shit, it was seeing the life slowly return to the eyes of a dying man. Moments like those show you that you were put on this earth for a purpose, even if it was just to ease someone's pain for a night or so.

Classes start two days from now. I need my books. I need my stomach to stop churning and start returning to normal. I need more time. I need some more hope that things will get better for the people that I care about.

I need some peace.
phoenixastraea: (Default)
I blame the quiet nature of work and a fairly distressing email for this contemplative entry...I just heard from Casey that my ex is doing even worse than before. His 18 year old sister is dying of highly advanced brain cancer, his current relationship seems to be approaching or on the rocks, work sucks, and apparently lots of other stuff bites as well. In his own words, he's had a rotten year. I just feel horrible about it...because I'm almost certainly part of the problem.

I ended things between us in February. I'm sure my reasons/motives for doing so appeared oh so altruistic since I told him that my feelings had changed and that "It just wasn't fair to him to continue to give so much to me when I couldn't give back equally..blahblahblah". What crap. My status as a word-worshipping English major does not affect my belief in the worthlessness of language when ending a relationship. Nothing the other person can say to you will convince you that you are not being abandoned by someone that you trusted, that the person leaving you does not love you one iota less than when you were together, or that you will truly be better off without their comfort and company. Nothing makes it hurt less...and this time, it was my doing. At the risk of sounding very egotistical (which I dont intend), I walked away with very little logical explanation, leaving him hurt, lonely, and confused when other aspects of his life had just started to darken.

I'm not vascillating. Those reasons, vague as they may seem, remain. It's done and I can't and won't undo it, no matter how much the guilt stains me. As Casey told me, "Feeling bad doesnt change a thing" and he's right. That being said, how much guilt should we assign to ourselves if any? And why do I seem to give myself the lion's share? I hate hurting peoples feelings even though empowered society always tells us that we need to look out for "Number One" before anyone else. To some extent, this is true...but I can't help feeling selfish when I do, simplifying the problem down to what *I* feel about the situation and excusing whatever pain we may cause the other person. As I said before, I'm not quite sure where this comes from or what part of my past or even my mind brings me nearly to the brink of psychic self-mortification with guilt.

Perhaps its just the feeling of helplessness that I despise...the inability to comfort, to heal, to fix, to make right when I know I could...but I don't.

I guess, in some ways, I need to be more like the Phoenix when it comes to my own mind: burn away what doesn't work.

Psychic Spring Cleaning, anyone?


phoenixastraea: (Default)
Phoenix Astraea

April 2017



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