Chipped Polish & Wornout Jeans

Vain and Gratuitous Picture to update you on my appearance (edited in photoshop out of boredom)

But the problem with a blog when you have no life is that you have nothing to write about. Most of the time my life consists of playing in Photoshop, occasionally writing on novels that may never be finished, tons of reading, and cooking (lots and lots of cooking). Just a reminder, I talk about my culinary adventures at A Taste of Joy, and I promise to update that blog more often. In fact, my goal is to blog more from now on, and hopefully I can manage that.

Before I start with the updates on what little has transpired in the life of Nic, let me begin by saying that this blog will hopefully become a lot more interesting. I’m not going to be blogging about major political issues or anything like that, though I may talk about important issues that have been on my mind a lot, but I am going to hopefully talk more about life as I experience it. This includes blogging about the books I read, the movies I see, things I see, and things that happen in my life. Whether or not that will be interesting or worth reading is yet to be determined, but writing used to be a great outlet for me; I intend to let it be that again. So on with the blogging.

As I mentioned earlier, I have been doing a lot of reading, and you can find my Goodreads updates both on my sidebar and by visiting my account. I’m open to book recommendations and friends there. I plan to blog more about my literary adventures, including reviews of sorts of the books I’m reading.

Currently I am halfway through a re-read of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones so that I can move on to reading A Clash of Kings, and it’s one of those books that is so dense and rich that reading it a second time gives you more to love. Let me take a moment to talk about this book in general, without giving away too much, and then when I’ve finished I will write an actual review.

Martin’s writing style is very heavy, and he tends to be very wordy; however, for me that is not a deterrent so long as the story continues to move forward at a decent pace, which for the most part he does. He has a sort of Joss Whedon wickedness about him, in that you will fall in love with characters only to have them viciously taken from you via death. But his characters are deliciously human, and even the villains are realistic. I absolutely love that there are characters to love, characters you’ll love to hate, and characters you find yourself cheering for despite misgiving. The story rotates through their various points of view, which can be very daunting, and some of his chosen narrators leave a lot to be desired (I’m looking at you Sansa Stark, you little simpering whiner); however, each narrator weaves a brilliant portion of the overall tapestry, bringing their subplots and motivations.

The world is richly developed, and while there are underlying elements of high fantasy (dragons, direwolves, magic, and the mysterious Others), the fantasy aspect is cleverly worked into the overall story without bombarding the reader. It is not a book for the squeamish or those uncomfortable with sex, violence, and death, but I highly recommend it for fantasy lovers who want something thick and detailed to feed a need for heroes and villains.
Other books I’m reading:

• Eona by Allison Goodman
• Brisingr by Christopher Paolini
• Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey

The only update I have for now is that I have two mapped out but unfinished barely started novels. One is a futuristic dystopian work called NeverWonder and the other is a historical fantasy work that has yet to be named.

When you are a child you don’t realize how much more there is to losing a loved one than their death. You don’t see the extent of the sickness if they are ill or the difficult choices about medical treatment and care. You only know that your loved one is gone. Being an adult and dealing with it is so much more difficult. I’m learning that now as I sit here, blogging from the hospital room where my Nanny, a woman who has been a very large part of my life, is slowly dying. My Nanny is possibly suffering from a very rare degenerative neurological disease called Atypical Motor Neuron Disease; it is incurable and will eventually claim her life. This has really affected my family, especially my mom who was always close to her mother, and that tears me apart because I am very close to my mom, to the point that I will go to blows with people who mess with her. The family drama that is happening due to crappy relatives only makes this worse.

Right now, as I sit here, my Nanny is dehydrated and a bit emaciated because she cannot eat due to her inability to swallow and she made it very clear that she did not want anything invasive like feeding tubes; my mom and I come and stay at the hospital almost everyday, and early in the week we were actually sleeping at the hospital because we weren’t sure she was going to last the night. We are practically living in the hospital room at the moment. The sad thing is that, while we don’t want a pat on the back or anything, no one seems to appreciate the way we are sacrificing and suffering, and instead either we are ignored or it is implied that we are doing this out of a guilty conscience. We have nothing to be guilty about because we have always taken care of Nanny and been there for her. So all of the drama that is happening on top of my mom losing her mother. Soon I will only have her recipes and the memory of her voice, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I love my Nanny, and I will miss her so much; I already miss her. That is why I’ve made up my mind that the bakery and sweets shop I plan to eventually have will be called “A Taste of Joy” in honor of Barbara Joy Smith, my Nanny, the woman who opened my eyes and introduced me to the joy of cooking.

When I was younger, only about eight or so, I lost my Granddaddy to lung cancer, and I remember only understanding that he was gone. And when I lost my Pa and then my Papa within a few months of each other I was in high school; I was not involved in the decision making process or any of the drama that happened afterward. Now it is entirely different. There are people who must must be called and choices about her care, and most of that is falling to us; the problem is that those who don’t want to make the choices are not happy with the choices we make. It is a painful vicious cycle, and it feels like we simply cannot win. And while I know there is no real victory here, I simply wish there was a way to make things better for my mom, who is suffering because she is losing her mother. I wish my family hadn’t lost their ever loving minds and decided that this is the perfect moment to stir up drama and cause fights, and I wish that we could have peace in this family for once because it is something my Nanny has always dreamed about.

I guess I’ve been thinking too much again. I’ve all but given up on ever getting to be with Jake, although I miss him terribly; I still do not know what happened, and I still wonder if he left because I was a mess. I can be so harsh and abrasive, and I’m a mass of contradictions and trouble; I came with baggage and damage because the one person who’d promised me forever lied to me, cheated on me, and never had the courage to actually end the relationship, and I got scared a lot. Sometimes I feel like I was way more trouble than I was worth. I know I should move on because that would be the wise decision, the strong choice, but I have yet to get over him, even though it has been well over a year since he said it was over. My heart still break when he crosses my mind, and there are times when I need to hear his voice telling me it’s alright, and I know that can’t happen.

It seems others haven’t given up hope; my mother swears that he’s going to come back, though I find that hard to believe. She says that he still loves me, but I highly suspect that she is simply saying things to make me feel better; I’m sure that he’s moved on, and I hope he is happy. He is good man, and he will make some very lucky woman very happy; I hope whoever that woman is, she is grateful and kind and loving because he deserves that. My grandmama, who fell in love with him the moment she met him, is convinced that I will turn around and there he’ll be; she firmly believes that I just have to be patient and he’ll be back. I don’t think so. A tiny part of me still hold out hope that he will call me or show up, and I occasionally have these stupid heartbreaking dreams where there’s a knock at my door and I open it to find him standing there, waiting. I’m sure that someone else has come into his life, someone less damaged and crazy, and he’s happy. She probably swears less than I do, and she’s probably more of a lady than I’ll ever be. I think my nanny still secretly hopes that he will come back because he was smart and funny and well mannered and everything a good Southern man should be.

I will admit that there were times when the only bright spot in my day was the sound of his voice on the other end of the phone or a text message saying hi; no matter how crappy my day was, he could make me smile. I could be crying and miserable, and he’d make it better. I have moments, when I’m in tears and falling apart, that I reach for my phone and have to remind myself that I can’t call him, that he won’t answer, and he certainly will not come and kiss my tears away. I miss his smile, his laugh, the way he had so much faith in us and in God and in everything; I miss the way he held me tight, and I miss the way he’d sing in my ear when I was feeling terrible about myself. I miss the way he understood me better than anyone else, and he knows more about me than anyone else in the world; I shared all of myself with him. I just miss him. (I know you probably aren’t reading this, Jake, but on the off chance you are, I miss you, and I still love you.)

I’m trying hard not miss him so much because missing someone who isn’t interested in you is pointless, but it isn’t working. I’m trying not to wish we were still together, but it’s almost impossible. When he walked out of my life, I lost my best friend, which sounds really cheesy, but it’s true.

Guess who’s size thirteen jeans are getting to big? Ok, so I guess that sounds like a ridiculous thing to brag about, but for me the fact that my jeans are too big and that I needed to get a tighter belt is a huge victory. I hadn’t been paying much attention to my progress, mainly because I haven’t had time or really been out in public worried about my appearance. Too busy with the remodel and website to care. However, I’m pleased to report that I am approximately one third of the way to my weight loss goal. I’ve lost thirty to thirty-five pounds, which only leaves me with about fifty to lose! I know that sounds like a tiny amount to brag about considering how much I need to lose, but I’m so excited by the fact that I’m making any progress at all.

I’ve taught myself to eat healthier and pay more attention to portion control; this means that I can eat less and still be full! To be honest, my dietary habits were pretty atrocious before, and a great deal of that has to do with the fact that as little kid my family sort of let me eat whatever I wanted. Part of being Southern is the idea that we bond over food; I tend to blame it on the scarcity that came from the War Between the States (That’s Rebel for Civil War). This leads to the fact that people expect me to eat a great deal more than I do now; I used to eat piles of food, and I’m pretty sure only my metabolism and active childhood kept me from becoming dangerously overweight. This fact brings me to my point.

It’s difficult for me to maintain my healthy diet and eating habits when I have my family breathing down my neck about me not eating enough. On more than one occasion it has been insinuated that I am starving myself to lose weight because I ate small portions, and suddenly people seem to notice when I refuse to eat things I don’t like because it makes my already small meals look smaller. Being constantly told that you don’t eat enough can be just as bad as being told that you eat too much. 

So it’s been a very long time since I updated this blog, and for that I apologize. (As if anyone is actually reading this anyway.) The problem with running  a blog, an actual one and not my Tumblr, is that I have very little to talk about lately; I don’t like to write about my failure to get a job, even though that’s been pretty much the only thing happening for me. I hate this economy so much right now. I also don’t want to write about my continual emotional rollercoaster, mainly because it’s boring and definitely something no one would be interested in reading. I will however be blogging more often, no matter what that means, because I find writing to be cathartic and healthy.