like... a woman

burlesque mannequin in store window, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

I love this picture. I took it last spring during a vacation I surprised my mother with. Same view at night.

It's a nice picture to look at because I feel so blah lately. Every day is sweatpants day. I haven't worn make-up in two months. I barely touch my hair. I have a patio chair in my shower because I can't stand long enough for even a quick one. I've never pegged myself high-maintenance, but at least then I had a choice. I don't feel like myself. I don't feel like... a woman. I feel like the mess of an adolescent I used to be before I learned how to control my hair.

I can hear summer beginning outside. The school buses have stopped. All of my paid vacation time has been used to fund my disability. Worst. Vacation. Ever.

to fulfill desires

friends for-- now, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

I'm going to miss PHX comicon as well as E3 in LA. Tickets for both are very paid for and non-transferable or refundable. Comicon starts tomorrow and I don't think I'll fare well in a wheelchair with crowds. E3 begins the same day as my surgery. I'm pretty bummed out. Sure, I wanna find out what potentially is or is not wrong with my guts, but I was really looking forward to both of those events (first time at both). On a similar and side note, I may need to rethink my career. My current job (the one through which I have awesome insurance and is paying for my disability and my leave) may also contribute to said disability due to stress. It's an upsetting relief if that makes sense.

Two more weeks (at least). Surgery scares me but for different reasons. This is my second procedure, and although very different in nature, I don't feel like it is. I worry about waking up when I'm not supposed to and not waking up when I am supposed to. I could care less about the slicing and dicing. If you've never been put to sleep, the Dr./hospital staff may joke with you that you'll wake up at the end and ask when it's going to start. I shrugged this off, but it was probably the most truthful information anyone has given me during these two months. However, they told Jason to wait in the wrong room for me and when I woke up no one could find him and I was very confused. It was like a bad recurring dream, but from a movie instead. I dunno.

When I was a kid, I had two recurring dreams that lasted until I was about 12. Actually, I guess they were nightmares. Well anyway, one was about my mom and I grocery shopping. As a child, my mom reminded me every time we went somewhere to stay with her or hold her hand or I would get kidnapped or lost. She was being perfectly reasonable-- Adam Walsh was murdered two years before I was born and it changed how parents shopped with their children.

Anyway. At night I had these terrible dreams of being chased by a tall long-legged shadow man through a military base shopping commissary that was the size of a warehouse. The entire place was empty except for me and my dreaded shadow man. The building was silent-- no music, intercom announcements, register beeps, or aircraft outside flying overhead. Light bulbs flickered. I ran through an endless maze where every turn took me down an aisle filled with nothing but boxes and boxes of cheeseburger-flavored Hamburger Helper. Every shelf, top to bottom. He chased me as I ran and ran, looking down each aisle for my mom's familiar and distinguishable Afro or butt. In the dream, I left my mom without her permission or knowledge to get a box of Tuna Helper to fulfill desires of being both helpful (haha Tuna Helper and helpful, I never made that connection) and well a "big girl." Perhaps it's for this reason, I have always loved Tuna Helper and disliked it's hamburger counterpart-- most especially the cheeseburger kind. I'll eat it, but it takes me right back to my bad place.

Speaking of my mom, the snapshot is from one of her gardenia bushes planted even before me. My photography these days is limited to the interior of my house or if I can make the walk, my front- and backyards.

a fleeting phase

bowie sleeping in closet, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

Since I got sick, our dog, Bowie (after David), sleeps in our walk-in closet. She used to sleep in our shower when she was a puppy, then stopped. She usually sleeps on a couch in the living room that I'm pretty sure she thinks is hers. We joked that she sleeps in the closet to be closer to us cause she knows I'm sick. It's cute. Or it was until she chewed buttons off of one of my sweaters. More Bowie pics here.

Dislikes are more important than likes and generic likes are the worst.

Bowie dislikes Jell-o. She lets it fall out of her mouth and acts very confused about it. Bowie likes to rip the eyes off of her stuffed animals (so they can't find their way home). Her generic likes are generic and predictable if you've ever had a dog or seen one in a commercial.

I dislike the idea, thought, or sound of bones cracking/popping. I become unglued when people around me do it. It gives me the jibblies and I just have to shake it out and I make a noise like I just drank straight vodka. I dunno what it is.

I had to see a chiropractor today. The bones and muscles in my back are terrible from all the bedrest. My mystery disease is holding hands with nerves in my back and my upper legs. They play redrover and send lightning right over. If this is the luxurious chapter of my life where I was supposed to age gracefully, sign me down. The chiropractor did this Noob Saibot kombo on me where he broke my bones and I threw up (a little). I'm being a baby; I'll live.

Recently I really like to watch shows that old Heather hated. I'm not sure if it's cabin fever or the narcotics but I actually dvr Dog now. Yes, the bounty hunter. There are others, but counting Housewives of New Jersey and Dog makes two, and I think that's fair enough for now. You know too much.

Generic likes run rampant. I'm not sure if people are vague because they're lazy or vague because they're vague. Of course people like movies, and music, and sex. I've never known anyone irl or otherwise to say they hated music or pizza or sex. Correct me if I'm wrong but not just because you want to argue.

And why doesn't blogger ask me what my favorite television shows are? True, I've already told you some! Why am I so hung up on talking about tv. I must come across as so ordinary and typical. I am. It's just that I think the tv shows you watch say much more about you than a movie you like. A movie is a one time thing and can be dismissed as a phase or cement a new relationship and dismissed later when loves turns to hate. When someone close to me says they like a movie that I might think is stupid, we argue for a bit, I make fun, and then it's over. But when I find out that they like a tv show that I hate, I'm much more disappointed or let down. A tv show is an investment. A commitment. I dunno that you can easily dismiss a tv show as a fleeting phase-- unless you watched it as a child, tried to watch it again recently and couldn't even make it through half of the episode. True story. Four years ago. Popples. Couldn't make it through the carwash episode and I loved that episode as a kid!

Haha. There is so much more to life than this. It's funny because the world was supposed to end and I'm blogging about bad tv but what else am I going to talk about.

I spent the rest of my day looking up registered sex offenders in my neighborhood and reading all about the new Jesus.

All jokes aside, Star Wars is not a phase and Jango and Boba are better than Dog.

3 years ago

puffy cheeks, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

It's late and I can't sleep. I'm looking through old pictures.

I've been on short term disability for almost two months. I spend all of my time in bed without much else to do, so here I am.

We took this picture the day Jason asked me to marry him-- I can't believe that was 3 years ago almost to the day.

We've only recently started making actual wedding plans. Since we're both home all day (I'm not working and he stopped working to take care of me) we have watched marathons of shows about weddings, wedding dresses, wedding cakes, and the housewives of New Jersey (although the latter has no inspirational value, of course).

I wish I was back on Jones Beach instead of stuck in my bed. It's nice to catch up on video games, but I'd rather be healthy.

I get it now

new telephoto lens, a photo by Digital Heather on Flickr.

There isn't a huge difference between digital Heather and analog or otherwise. Actually, there is no difference at all. It's only a matter of what names are left at the end of the day.

I'm not new to blogging; just needed a change of scenery. I've spent two weeks trying to think of a new name for a new blog. I've always firmly believed that I have nothing new to offer. It's all been said before. This became doubly true when blog names like "nothingnew" or "saidbefore" had already been taken.

About 10 yrs ago, I had a hard time understanding what 'blogger' was. I had a site made from scratch and did the coding all myself. I wrote blogger off as "something people use when they can't do it themselves." I was proud and now I'm just old and lazy.

I recently deleted a blog kept from '04 - 2011. I don't even know why I did, to be honest (delete it, not keep it, that is). I remember when I was 18 (also 10 yrs ago), I had a friend who broke up with his girlfriend simply because he didn't want to date someone as an adult whom he had dated in high school. I couldn't understand where he was coming from because the idea of a transitioning romance appealed to me. If I remember correctly, I called him an asshole, and stopped being his friend. I wouldn't even know the first place to look for him these days so I could send him a one-liner that reads "I get it now."

I don't want to have the same blog anymore. I'm different now. I'm older but surely not smarter-- just in a different place in my life with different glasses. That blog actually marked a new beginning. This blog, or the birth of this blog, isn't nearly as momentous.

Blogs all seem so phony these days. Is that really you? Are you really that beautiful? Are these really your words? I guess people might think I'm a phony too. I'm not. Exactly what a phony would say :)

About Heather

My name is Heather Rode.

I’ve lived in Arizona for 30+ years with no complaints. I’ve traveled to almost every united state, but Arizona remains my favorite.

I have a strong background in customer service, sales and management. I managed a very popular video game store that you’ve no doubt heard of before. After five years living that dream, I got a nice taste of the economy and was laid off. It was a blessing though because the politics that dictate the video game industry are a’changin’ and it was probably a good time to take a bow.

These days I’m getting fair mileage from my journalism degree. I blog and write for various websites as a freelance writer. Does this mean I do nothing all day and write in my underwear? Sometimes.

I married my long-time love in 2011. We started dating in 2003 so you could say we took our time! We live in a small Arizona town with our dog-child, a Husky named Bowie.

I enjoy all things pop culture. I’m happiest when I’m snapping a beautiful photo, working on a DIY project, crafting, and or baking/cooking. I cook/bake and craft something everyday. Life is awesome that way. You can check out my food and projects by clicking the DIY with Heather's Help tab at the top.

This blog is about me-- whatever that means or entails. I talk a lot about my health (I have level 3 endometriosis, a history of pulmonary emboli, and two blood mutations: factor 2 and lupus anticoagulant), my infertility journey, and my twice-fleeting struggle with my sanity when I attempted suicide and did a brief stint in a loony bin. Life in general. I talk about it because these are things that need to be talked about. I know what it's like to struggle in so many ways and my intent is to shed light and offer comfort because these plights are not just mine. My struggles are really silent epidemics that need to be addressed. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed. This is life. So let's talk about it.

You can always reach me by e-mail: heatherhinch@gmail.com.

xoxo,