Dear C,

I’m glad we finally settled on a name for you. Calling you “Muse” just felt odd – awkward, you know? – and I know it was the same for you. Let’s be honest, you’re not very muse-y at all; you’re not even very muse-ish. I’m still surprised you show up to work. Is that why you’re so cranky? Because I don’t look for you to be there? Because I don’t expect to see you? I know, I need to work on that… but you don’t see yourself when you arrive. You should, you know, pause by the mirror when you come in and take a look at your reflection. Your face is set in a glower, and the line of your shoulders is straight, tight, like you expect to have to dodge body blows. You’re also usually quite cranky. Your greetings are terse and they feel forced, like you’d really rather not be here. The way you attempt to bore holes into the back of my head – while eventually effective – is not really a great motivator. Also, it poses a dire risk to the future of my bodily health. Luckily, my skull’s really really thick.

I know you’ve been having a rough time lately, and that you’re not in the best place, mentally or emotionally. I also know that we’ve had some pretty spectacular fights, like total nuclear meltdown, end of the world, apocalypse type fights, but that kind of comes with the territory. We’re both Tauruses – bulls, and well, shit like that’s going to happen. But we’re still here and intact, more or less.

I understand that it’s difficult to navigate through my mind; it seems that the fantastical circus has taken up permanent residence in here and they tend to roam around a lot. They’re loud and obnoxious sometimes, but all around, they’re good folk. Besides, there’s no getting rid of them now. You could use a little more chaos in that hyper-organized, almost eerie serial killer type mind of yours. Oh! You have my permission and blessing though, to take out any clowns you happen across. Fucking clowns… they give me total stranger-danger creeps…

Anyway, I digress!

I want to work out this relationship between us. Let’s not forget that you promised that you really did want to keep being my muse. Perhaps a fresh bout of counseling or some kind of therapy will help. You co-exist with me in my mind, after all, and no matter how hard we’ve both tried to sabotage this (read: destroy each other), somehow, we keep finding ourselves stuck together. So let’s take this as a cosmic sign that the Universe knows what its doing. I promise to do better, if you promise the same. I’ll have a fresh plate of almond cookies out for you.

Love,
Me

P.S. I respond very well to bribery.

P.P.S. If you could start showing up shirtless, that might help things along too.

This man is my hero.  And this writer’s prayer, I like!  Words to live by!

The Inkslinger’s Invocation: The Writers Prayer II

This made me laugh, along with a funny email from James.

Best.  Wedding.  Engagement.  Pictures.  Ever.  (Scroll all the way through the page!)

http://mlkshk.com/p/69H1

Since some of you have been asking (well, 3 out of the 5 that read this? *laughs*) here is my recipe for the Chai tea that I drink.  I blame one of James’ co-workers, the fabulous Elizabeth Silvers, for getting me hooked.  I’m going to put up the original version and my version.  Pictures and the proportions that I use will be included at the end of the post, along with the links to the places that I buy all of the pouches and spices.  Keep in mind that I like all of my teas very strong so judge accordingly!

Original recipe:

makes 32 oz.

• 1 cinnamon stick
• 2 cardamon pods – for more flavour, crack open the pods with a meat mallet (or whatever works best for you) but BE CAREFUL!
• 3 cloves
• 1-2 pinches of Lipton loose tea
• 1 can of evaporated milk – I prefer Carnation
• sugar

YOU MUST REMEMBER TO STIR FREQUENTLY. Place cinnamon stick, cardamon pods, cloves in pot with water. Bring to a rolling boil, then turn heat down to low. Simmer for 8-10 minutes, or until liquid is golden brown. Turn off heat and remove pot from burner. Place tea leaves in for approximately 30 seconds. Don’t forget to stir. Strain into heat resistant cup or container. Add sugar and evaporated milk to taste. Enjoy!

My version:

makes 24 oz.

• 1 cinnamon stick
• 2 cardamon pods
• 5 cloves
• 3 liberal pinches of Lipton loose tea
• 2 disposable loose tea filter thingies (because I’m lazy and I hate straining)
• 1 can of Carnation evaporated milk
• sugar

I place the cinnamon stick, the cardamon pods, and the cloves into one tea filter bag thing, and the loose tea leaves into the other. I place the spice bag into the pot of water and let the water boil, then turn the heat down. I let the spices simmer anywhere from 15-20 minutes, or until the liquid is a deep rich dark brown. I turn off the heat, remove pot from burner, and take out the spice bag. I put in the tea bag next, and let it steep for 2 minutes. After that, the tea bag is removed and I pour straight into my cup, add sugar and evaporated milk to taste and enjoy. I find that using the tea leaf filter thingy lessens the chance of burning the spices, since the bag is slightly buoyant and keeps the spices from resting on the bottom of the pot. But really, it’s because I hate straining and I’m lazy. ;P

Now, the pictures!  Pardon the utter crap but (hopefully) I’ll get better with practice.

For all of my Vancouver/Richmond peeps, you can get these from Daiso. If not…well, here’s something from Amazon.

You should be able to find this at any grocery store.  You can also experiment with other teas, but I don’t think Chinese tea works quite as well.

I buy the 3 Inch Cut Sticks Indonesia Cinnamon, and yes, that is indeed a one pound bag!

Whole Fancy Green Cardamon Pods. I’ve been using this 4 oz bag for over half a year now.

And here we have Whole Madagascar Cloves.  Again, this 4 oz bag has lasted over half a year and as you can see, I still have plenty left.

Stolen shamelessly from Kelly’s Facebook page. And because this explanation is perfect for action-scene challenged people like me who have made a character training to be a GAIDIN. *snickers* Ohhh man, I wish I was joking. ;) Nuncio Valadine to follow in a future post. *whispers* Just think Chris Hemsworth. *pets and purrs*

A. Spear–Jabby/stabby/throwing thingee. Knife onna stick. Used in war & hunting. May be fitted with a crossbar at the top, to keep enemies/game from forcing their bodies up the shaft & doing nasty things to you. Some people are just ungrateful, I guess.
B. Pike–like a spear, but longer. No throwing. War weapon only. May have a hook attacked for yanking knights off their horsies.
C. Halberd–Hybrid pike/battleaxe. War only. Very nasty inna fight. Definately will have a hook thingee for relieving the horsies of their burdens.
D. Godentag. Flemish weapon. Long wooden club with an awl-like spearpoint at the end. May have rows of wooden/metal spikes running the length. Stabby/smashie thingee. Cheap to make, very nasty inna fight.
E. Lance–long spear/pike, used from the saddle of a horse. Charge at hapless oaf at high speed, ram him with lance, oaf-kabob.

So here’s my Kaia from the WoTRP site that I write at!  I am TOTALLY having a blast with Kelly and her Hal. XD

(c) Nene Thomas http://nenethomas.com "Early Snow"

So I edited the whole ‘purpose of my blog’ tagline. I realized that while I have definite plans to chat about writing, I didn’t want it to be the only reason for starting this blog. See, I tend to talk a lot and I’m really quite random. My husband also says I have the attention span of a gnat, so trying to focus on just one topic—yeah, you may as well just headbutt my cat and tell me that I can’t eat anything but plain, unsalted congee for the rest of my life.

This is going to be my place, the place where I will try my utmost not to censor myself, the place where I will try my utmost to be and stay true to myself. I’m looking at you, self-esteem! *brandishes Dyson* Not everything I think of will wind up here; some of my ramblings will be story related, in half formed thoughts and ideas, and NOBODY’s reading that until my steaming pile of a first draft is turned into something actually palatable. I refuse to feed you guys shit… so you will just have to patient. I promise, it will be worth the wait. (God, I hope it’ll be worth the wait…LOL)

You’ll read strange musings, perhaps a quote (or dozen)… there will be food related posts… I <3 food. You’ll hear me go on about my RP characters and other completely random, various things. If at any point, you don’t want to read, feel that I’m being offensive or hell, just flat out bored… close the browser window. I won’t get mad, I promise. ;) We’ll still be friends. Nothing says you have to keep reading something of mine that you don’t want to! So. Having said that, I at least hope that I’ll be able to make you smile in the meantime with my random ass brain and its circus-like train of thought.

You’ve got some nerve.

You heard me. That’s right, I’m talking to you. And you’ve got some fucking nerve. I’m done making excuses for you.

My whole life, it’s been, “Oh no just be patient. Now that we understand what’s going on, things will get better. She’s been hurt, wounded, just like me, but she’ll pull through this.”

Boy, was I wrong.

At first, you kept to yourself, making a mess in our room, breaking a dish or two in the kitchen, maybe even drawing on the walls in nice hard-as-fuck-to-get-rid-of Sharpie. Hell, I even cleaned up the few times you decided to pee on the carpet. What are you, three? But none of that was good enough for you, was it? No, instead of trying to work through our issues together, you decided to take it all out on me. You started breaking windows, terrorizing our cats, threatening our dogs, even going so far as to try and eat our fish!

And still, I turned a blind eye to it. You know, maybe if you had kept it between us, things would have gone on the way they were. You’d have continued on your destructive ways and the only one damaged and paying for it was me.

But hurting just me wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted to see everyone I loved as miserable and as low as you. You had to lash out at my husband. You had to lash out at my friends. You had to come into MY home, a place that I share with my family and try and cheapen the security of it. You had to come into MY place of writing, the Haven that I share with my muses, my sister, and her muse, and you had to run your mouth and wave your arms and threaten them with your ridiculous antics.

They only ever tolerated you because they care about me; not you. Me. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

See, I’ve been listening to your lies for far too long. It’s been like poison in my head, and it’s been leaking out into the rest of me. They’re not trying to get me to change who I am; they’re only trying to get me to change the way I see myself. Big difference. And despite all of your effort to make me believe I’m ugly and not worth anything… you know what? I like who I am, the good, the bad, the crazy, all of it. And they (James, sis, muses, friends) wouldn’t see that changed about me for anything.

You lose, bitch.

So here’s the deal:

You check yourself into rehab. You get help. You get rid of this childish, self-destructive bullshit attitude and you finally grow the fuck up. Once all those criteria have been met (and confirmed), I’ll come get you and we’ll be like two peas in a pod. I’ll even let you have pet fish again and we can work our way up to more complicated animals. We’ll have fun again, like we did before things went to shit!

If you refuse?

I wait until you’re unconscious from your latest emo bender. I take my trusty Dyson vacuum cleaner and I suck your sorry ass up into the canister. I then place said canister (with you in it) into the freezer. For how long? Indefinitely. Think about it: your only companions will be old weird smelling ice and black, year-old steaks. Maybe even stale pork chops every now and again.

I can’t survive without you?

Oh how wrong you are! See, that’s where you’re mistaken. I’ve lived this long with you doing your best to sabotage all of my progress and I haven’t stepped out in front of a bus yet; with you locked in an eternity of ice, things will only get better. And I didn’t tell you, but I’ve been seeing other people. I’ve already got offers from a few who will happily take your place, starting with my two hot muses, no less.

You can’t run. Nobody wants you; you’re damaged goods, sister. You can’t hide; I know where you sleep.

The choice is yours, but to help motivate you along with your decision making, here’s a glimpse of your future possible prison:

You have a week to get your shit together.