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I miss Kookooburras more than I can say
valarltd: (mother-trucker)
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I have a BA in English, with a minor in Creative writing.
I drive a semi. They pay is better than anything I can do in the Pink collar ghetto.

OTOH, my wordsmithing earned me about $3300 last year, or about 7 weeks take-home pay.
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Mine is from the neolithic age. I'm making love with my mate (my current husband) on a stone ledge. We're sheltered a little by ferns, but when the rain starts, I complain and mention finding shelter for winter. He laughs and calls me a worrywart.

Of this life, my mother, ca 1968-69, packing boxes in the living room of the house where she and my father lived while they were married. She is very young, very thin and has all her black hair piled on her head.
valarltd: (pagan)
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Yule as a religious holiday and Christmas as a secular one. A pair of birthdays, and New Year's eve. We mark Hanukkah, but don't really celebrate it.
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You want the list? I've met people from moderate level media stars to "world famous in Kansas City" stars. It's what happens when you do a lot of conventions as a pro yourself.

This year: Amber Benson, Tara from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Jeremy Bulloch, Boba Fett from Star Wars. (Very nice man, stayed on the dealer floor and sweated it out with the rest of us) John Wells, actor, Swordbearer. And any number of authors from actually meeting Tamora Pierce and Tammy Jo Ekhart (whom i knew through LJ) to new acquaintances like Alexandra Christian and Eric Wilson.

Years past: Jonathan Maberry, author and comic artist; Judson Scott, actor; Sandahl Bergman, Mark Lenard, Geoge Takei, Anthony Daniels, Jimmy Doohan, Roger Carmel, all actors; Terry Prachett, author; Esther M. Friesner, author; Mari Atkins, author and editor; Leslie Fish, Tom Smith, The Great Luke Ski, SJ Tucker, singers; Larry Elmore, Artist; AC Crispin, author. I shared a signing room with Mercedes Lackey but didn't get to meet her.

Not to mention the small press authors of the Literary Underworld, my family away from home, and those of Kerlak Press.
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Everything except the cat.
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Set up structured payments on our larger bills, in order to avoid CTR forms.
Clear our smaller debts.
Make all the deferred repairs
Set up a scholarship fund at Mudd's HS, for the bright kids who might not get a chance.
Donate generously to PFLAG, Memphis Area Gay Youth and the Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center. They were there when we needed them and I credit these groups with helping save Bun's life...repeatedly.
I plan to quit working and write full time.
Cover the Literary Underworld's hotel fees and buy them a van, with a gas card billed to me.
Set up college funds for the kids, the nieces and nephew.
Travel.
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I spent last weekend in one of the most haunted hotels in the country, the Bourbon Orleans in New Orleans.

The balcony door of the ballroom opened and shut repeatedly, in dead calm air, with no human near it. The chandelier swung in the same conditions. These were witnessed by about 200 people.

I was sitting quietly in the St. Mary's room, a meeting room. I was not in any draft, but the skin on the top of my head started to crawl, and then the goosebumps spread down my neck and arms. This happened four times during the course of a conversation with my mom. I closed my eyes and saw a small boy standing beside me, one of the orphans who died during the Yellow Fever epidemic most likely.
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For ten mill, I can HIRE someone to email my stuff to my publishers, download my ebooks and generally handle the business I do online.

Assuming I can download my LJ and skype chats with my terminally ill mom in another city don't count, yes.
valarltd: (mother-trucker)
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I have a BA in English.

I drive a semi for a living and write erotica on the side.
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The Seventh Seal.

not just no, but OH HELL NO!
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The ability to put my hand in my pocket and find the exact amount of money I need at any given time.
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Give him and his husband a hug and say "Come on in and meet my husband."
We have a lovely relationship.
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Dear Ms. Blonde Bimbo
I'm sorry your ink is still wet on your diploma. I'm sorry you don't know the simple equation for force. I'm sorry you replaced a man who knew his subjects cold. I'm not sorry we intimidated the hell out of you by being smarter than you.


Dear Coach,
You made my life miserable for five years. I am probably obese today because of the hatred of physical activity you instilled in me. You played favorites. You cheated. We called you "Cheater [Surname]" and not just because it rhymed. And most of all, you sick fuck, you had no right to paddle me. Sixth grade, after I'd gotten most of my height and all my curves. And don't think I didn't see the expression on your face...or the condition of you pants.

Dear Coach.
I drive a semi now. No accidents. Only 2 incidents in my first year. Fuck you for saying I'd never get my license.
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Gasoline to get to Little Rock or Nashville and claim it.
Then dinner out, because it's a long trip.

Then, all the bills. Not all at once. Some of them are so stupidly large they require a Cash Transfer Record.
Those, we structure so as to not draw IRS and FBI attention. The rest? paid in full. College funds for the kids and the nieces and nephews. All that dental work I need. House repairs. We need a bunch we can't afford.

Then, charity work. Memphis Area Gay Youth. Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center. PFLAG. A couple of scholarships. Project Linus. The Trevor Project.

Then The Literary Underworld. A van to haul the display around in, a gas credit card. And I'll be covering hotel expenses.
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Mama Lilith's Rebel Daughter

or
Swan Diving into the Abyss
valarltd: (jack--fictional)
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My surname is already Sparrow, what more do I need?
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True Blood has had me thinking a lot about immortality. We're seeing vampires a thousand, three thousand years old. And none of them are quite sane.

I'm not sure I'd want to live forever. There are too many catches.

Do I keep aging? That'd be a huge bummer, and I say that not as an agist statement but as someone whose medical conditions worsen with each passing year. I'm dreading my arthritis at sixty. But at 600? Would I even be able to move without screaming?

Would I retain my faculties? Or would I end up on what the nurses call the C&T ward, being fed through tubes, babbling about nothing for the next three millennia?

Would I be invulnerable? Because living through the sun going supernova would so not be fun.

Freezing exactly where I am, not so bad. But how do you stay sane after everyone you love is dead, after everything you know is gone? How do you keep up with technology and changes?

Consider Eric from True Blood. Born to a Norse chieftain, raised to be chief himself. A thousand years. That's a long time. I'm having trouble keeping up with forty. Change moved slowly in the first few centuries, then after about 1800, it took off. The Western Hempisphere, steam engines, railroads over the old Roman Roads, Europe forming and reforming, airplanes, telegraph, telephone, cell phones, computers, democracy, socialism and more. Yet he moves through all the times, a part of them and enjoying himself.

I have a feeling, immortality would be more like it was for Ricean vampires. Whatever it is that makes them wish to be immortal passes. The world changes, and they do not. Until they walk into the fire.
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The short answer: racism and greed.

Marijuana/hemp/cannibis has been used industrially, religiously and medicinally since 7000 BCE. It was legal in the US until 1937, except in states where it was restricted to prevent Mexicans from using it.

In 1619, the Jamestown colony MANDATED everyone grow it. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson grew it. In the 1850s, there were over 8000 hemp farms of over 2000 acres each. It was the cash crop of choice, used for everything from medicine to paper-making to cloth. The Declaration of Indpendence is written on hemp paper. Queen Victoria used it for her cycles.

Even during World War II, the government was encouraging farmers to grow it, because other industrial fibers were in short supply. See "Hemp for Victory." Henry Ford was making plastic out of it. He made a whole car that had been totally grown and ran on hemp biodiesel.

But Harry Anslinger, the head of the brand new Federal Bureau of Narcotics, was a very ambitious man. He wanted something as big as Prohibition to redound to his credit. So he went after marijuana.

He called it marijuana, all scary and foreign, instead of hemp. The AMA fought him all the way, but was not allowed to speak. He had John Paul Getty and William Randolph Hearst on his side and Hearst papers smeared the demon-weed, never mentioning its other uses, until public sentiment was against this evil thing that Mexican and Black and Assassins were using against decent white folks.

By the 1970s, no one remembered that marijuana had been legal, even encouraged as a crop, less than 40 years before.

Tobacco had better PR despite having fewer uses.
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I was explaining to my mother that I don't give money to people who are actively trying to harm me and mine. That means we don't eat at Chick-Fil-A, we don't order Domino's pizza, and we avoid Hobby Lobby.

http://www.talk2action.org/story/2007/8/23/142836/277

I also refuse to give to the Salvation Army because of their policies on gays and women. And I don't buy Boy Scout anything, nor let my sons take part. Not that they qualify anyway, since neither of them is a believer.

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