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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
purplerabbit's InsaneJournal:
- Gives the government the right to unilaterally censor foreign websites.
- Gives copyright holders the right to issue economic takedowns and bring lawsuits against website owners and operators, if those websites have features that make it possible to post infringing content. [A comment feature is enough.]
- Makes it a felony offense to post a copyrighted song or video.
| Thursday, January 19th, 2012 | |
| 7:15 pm | Why SOPA is dangerous, an explanation of the bill Originally posted by ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} nyxmidnight at Why SOPA is dangerous, an explanation of the billWhy SOPA is dangerous To Sum Up |
| Tuesday, November 15th, 2011 | |
| 12:43 am | Last chance for perks at ForbbiddenFiction.com Today is the last day of our Indiegogo fund raising campaign and your last chance to sign up for such perks as a autographed books, custom made floggers, year long paid memberships and more. Check it out and see our video: Come check out the: |
| Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011 | |
| 11:54 am | Mama said it would get better. Mama said it would get better. I nearly killed myself a month before my fifteenth birthday. It seemed to me at the time, that the pain was beyond my ability to cope. Sixteen months before, my dad had been the victim of a hit and run accident, left half dead and brain damaged. He was institutionalized in a semi-vegetative state. He didn't know my name. Dad's loss had plunged my mother and I both into depression, forced Mom back into the job market and left me in charge of the household and my three younger sisters. I'd had a secret first love, a girlfriend, who dropped me during this awful time. Then I got Hepatitis A, nearly died and spent months sick and lonely. I had to do double time to catch up on school work from missing nine weeks. All this while, I was enduring the constant torture of bullying as a geek in junior high school. It was unending taunting and even violence. Is it any wonder I cracked. I remember it so clearly that my skin can still feel it. I was taking a bath, during one of those rare times when I was home alone. I sat in the bath, thinking about the horror that my life had become and unable to imagine how to get through it, to imagine anything other than things getting worse and worse. I remember still the feel of the blade I took out of my mother's shaving razor. I remember sitting in the water growing cold and staring at it. I know I didn't really want to die. I didn't think I had a real option. I couldn't take any more. I froze, in a sort of fugue state, blade held between my fingers trying to will myself to either use it or put it down. My mother found me like this. She asked what I was doing. I remember answering in that distant, flat voice that I thought it would be better if I was dead. I remember her gently taking that blade from between my finger tips, opening the drain and reaching for a towel. "No," she said. "Do you know how much I need you? How much I love you?" She wrapped me in the towel and urged me out of the tub, leading me down the short hall to her bedroom, where she bundled me up, holding me and she kept talking. "I can't lose you. I know it's been hard, so very hard. It won't always be this way. Someday you will find people who are like you and can appreciate you. In the mean time, we have each other. I love you." Over and over she rocked me and told me how much I meant to her. Promised me we would find a way to get through it. Promised me I wasn't alone. Promised me it would get better. And it did. She worked hard to make sure it did. We both did. *** Right now, I wake up each day with such a heavy weight in my chest that breathing hurts. I feel that same sense of disconnect, like the world is spinning around me and I just can't follow it. I remember after dad's accident, watching children playing outside and unable to understand how the world could just keep going on when my life had turned upside down. Dad's body finally died only weeks before my twenty-fourth birthday. I had been in an awful place that winter, living alone in a basement studio apartment and working temp jobs to keep myself fed. The death of Dad's body so long after the death of his mind, had been like a freeing of the grief that had held us in such pain for eleven years. Yes, we had learned to go on without him, to live with the ache and unresolved loss. That final release though, it was like a miracle. Things raced forward and miracles happened. I went back to college, met Troy and Mom moved to Santa Cruz. We found a place for ourselves. One night there, I woke up from a horrible dream. It shook me so badly that I went next door to my mother's place and got into bed with her. She held me while I told her that I'd dreamed she died. It had become my greatest fear and it haunted me, knowing that someday it would happen. She rocked me and told me I would have to face it, she couldn't help that because she did not want me to die before her. It was the way of things, she said. It's a great wrong when the child dies before the parent. She said that she had once heard that you were never completely grown up until both your parents had died. Hers were still alive then, so she smiled and told me that made me more grown up than her. My mom's life was never easy. There was at least one real scare per decade of her life where she was hospitalized and I had to face the possibility of losing her. She fought hard to live, to see her children grown and even to be there for her grandchildren. In the last nine years, she was in and out of hospitals and complained about seeing more doctors than friends. Last year, she was diagnosed with COPD – her heart was failing. She'd already had one heart surgery and would not survive another. Even then, I begged for more time. I couldn't let her go yet. Last month, when the call came that she was in the hospital and this time there was nothing they could do, I knew it was time. She wanted to invoke her right to die, but she wanted me there with her. It had always promised that when there was nothing that could be done, no quality of life, I would be there to let her go. Now was time to honor the promise. She saw me and smiled. She said, "Please let me go." All four of her daughters told her, in tears as they said it, that they understood and that she could go now. I sat beside her for the next thirty hours, helping her through the process of dying – singing songs of spirit and comfort to help her let go. In the night, while she lay there laboring to breath and struggling to find release, I talked. I told her how much I loved her, recounted what an amazing person she had been and encouraged her to find that next adventure. I asked her forgiveness for the times I let her down and thanked her for all that she had done for me. In the still dark night, she breathed her final breath and stopped. I felt the warmth of her again as she passed. *** Mom's love for me, and for my sisters, was unconditional. It didn't mean she always approved of what we did. It meant she loved us even when we messed up. And when we did well, she was always there to cheer us on, to tell us how much our success meant to her. And when were down, she was always there to tell us it will get better. So every morning I wake and remember that she is dead, the weight of it so much I have to remember to breathe, to find a way to get up and face the day – I remind myself it will get better. It won't go away. Even my grief for Dad's lose has never gone away, surging up with Mom even now. I just know that there will be good times again. I have husbands who love and care for me. I have a son, who is for me, like her daughters were for her, like sunlight that warms my heart. It only gets better if we let it. If we work through the dark painful times to get to the other side. The only way out is through. |
| Wednesday, October 26th, 2011 | |
| 11:22 am | With each breath I take... "Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out..." (From Sleepless in Seattle.) My mother, Mary E. Atkins, an amazing feminist and social justice activist for nearly half a century, died Saturday. There are no words to describe the void left. I sat beside her bed, holding her hand and singing to her for the last two days of her life. To say that my mother and I were close would be an extreme understatement. My dad died when I was 13. That left mom with four children to raise and I am the eldest. Mom and I took care of each other and my sisters. Mom was my friend, my ally, my teacher, my mentor and so much more. One of my mother's favorite songs about our relationship was, "You and Me Agaisnt the World" by Helen Reddy: You and me against the world |
| Wednesday, June 1st, 2011 | |
| 6:55 pm | Next Generation Geeks I designed these shirts for my son and his friends, who are all proud childen of geek parents. I thought I would share in case folks here wanted one: |
| Monday, May 23rd, 2011 | |
| 5:10 pm | INVITE: Games Night at RW - Friday, June 3, 7-11 PM You are invited to come play with us. We have lots and lots of board and card games, but you are welcome to bring a favorite if you like. (Kids welcome too.) Friday, June 3 • 7:00pm - 11:00pm (Email if you need the address.) Please bring food, drink, and/or snacks to share with others. The household rules and house social etiquette is on our webpage at: www.therabbitwarren.org Let us know if you will be joining us. |
| Monday, January 24th, 2011 | |
| 1:15 am | Calling for back-up on San Diego! I have a friend, who is an important part of my live both in fandom and in the real world, who needs help. She is in San Diego and in a having real trouble. I need to find help. I may be able to fly down there to help, but I will need contacts and resources. Anyone down that area who could help? Send me email, please at dany@therabbitwarren.org Thanks. |
| Wednesday, October 13th, 2010 | |
| 2:49 pm | Anything can happen - It can get better! THE ULTIMATE SILENCE October 12, 1998  Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, The impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, Then listen close to me ... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be. ~ Shel Silverstein Twelve years ago, Matthew Shepard was murdered for being homosexual. What will you do to end the silence? Click here to post this on your own page or weblog |
| Thursday, September 23rd, 2010 | |
| 12:05 am | Bisexual Pride Day! Today, September 23, is Bisexual Pride Day. In honor of that, I thank everyone who has supported me and others who have claimed our desires. I am bisexual, always have been. I remember crushes on both girls and boys when I was as young as eight. I have been blessed with both male and female lovers through-out my life. May we all - of all orientations and genders - follow our bliss and celebrate the diversity of love. |
| Tuesday, August 10th, 2010 | |
| 12:26 pm | Looking for artists and photographers! I am working on development for a new original erotic fiction site: Forbbiden Fiction It will feature the work of a variety of authors, myself included. We are looking for erotic photography and art for the site. If you know of any photographers and/or artists who would like to see their work promoted and are willing to contribute their work to the site in exchange for that, please send them our way. Have them send samples of their work and/or links to their webpages to: forbiddenfictionpub@gmail.com |
| 12:11 am | Art for You, Home for Us!    These are samples of work by artist MirAngel, who has volutneered to donate the money for painting or drawing commissions toward the fundraiser for buying our house. See her profile on DeviantArt: http://mirangel.deviantart.com/ Down the page is information about commissions. Click on her Gallery to see the range of art she can do. She does both original and fan art. Just talk to her about what you want and let her know that it's to benefit "The Rabbits" as my family is nicknamed. Meanthile, thanks to everyone who has ordered books and sent donations. We're working hard to pull this together. It would be wonderful to not be uprooted again and finally have our own place. |
| Thursday, August 5th, 2010 | |
| 3:34 pm | House Update! Move or buy it! OMG! We might be able to buy our house! But we need to come up with closing costs. We have to buy our house or move. The irony is that moving will cost us just a much and we don't have enough for either. With moving we would have a couple more months to save up. To buy it we are going to need it this month. We have about half of the closing costs at the moment. Want to help out? Buy our mead? Buy books from our Amazon store? Other ideas? For those interesting in buying books from us, here is our site. (We also accept donations of books, CDs, DVDs, games, etc.): RABBIT RESALE For information about our mead see: RABBIT WARREN MEAd Buy an autographed copy of FAEWOLF? Email me for information or get it HERE through Amazon. Donations at Paypal: Does anyone have any other fundraising ideas? |
| Sunday, July 25th, 2010 | |
| 12:51 pm | Super Heroes vs. the Westboro Baptist Church Somedays I am very proud to be a geek! I love my fen!  |
| Wednesday, July 14th, 2010 | |
| 11:40 am | Fandom Memoir I would like to talk to you about your memories if you knew me between the years 1974-1988, especially if you were part of fandom at that time. I am writing a combination history/biography of that time period. Also, if you have documents -- letters, photos, newsletters, etc -- from then, I would love to get copies. |
| Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010 | |
| 10:40 pm | |
| Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010 | |
| 3:32 am | My mama is sick and my beautiful kitty is dead... I can't stop crying and get get to sleep. My big beautiful black cat, Jessie, was found dead this evening. I went to call him in for bed and he didn't answer. Sicne he is always at my side - sleeps with me, sits with me while I write and follows me from room to room, I knew something was wrong. I called and called, but he didn't come. So, my husbands got out the flashlights and went looking. They found him already dead and cold on the side of the house. He must have been hit by a car and crawled back to our yard, dying literally under the window to our room. I ache that I couldnt' hold my poor Jessie when he was dying. He was such a wonderful loving cat who made my life better in ways that most peope will never get. I am heart broken. I can't imagine how lonely I will be with out him. This seems so much to take after the week I've had. My mother was in a accident on Thursday, and I have been upset and frightened about her health. Frustrated by how little I can do for her and desparately hoping that she gets better soon. I have been barely holding it together through that, and now this. Jessie has been one of my greatest sources of comfort and joy and I feel like I failed him. He was so young and beautiful, so full of life and he didn't deserve to die like that. I can't stop crying. |
| Saturday, February 6th, 2010 | |
| 8:22 pm | Renaming Ceremony and Birthday Party - Feb. 13, 3 PM You are invited to my renaming ceremony and birthday party Saturday, Feb. 13, 3 PM On this, my 48th Birthday, I will be renamed "Dany" for a year and a day. I welcome people coming to participate in the ceremony and then staying to celebrate my birth and renaming afterwards! Please let me know if you'll be joining us! |
| Sunday, November 22nd, 2009 | |
| 5:42 pm | Online Dating Interview Project A friend of mine is doing a short anthropology about online dating sites for her college class. If you would give her a little bit of time to answer questions, she's appreciate it. http://christaylorr.livejournal.com/5 |
| Wednesday, September 30th, 2009 | |
| 3:48 pm | Editing and Ego I am trying to make myself edit one of the many first drafts I have in my que. My ability to focus on the task as definitely been off for a couple months. I love writing. Yet, I will admit to enjoying writing the first draft and re-reading the finished product better than all the hard work in the middle. Rewriting/editing also requires a kind of flexible but strong ego that can be hard to muster some days. I need to be flexible and discerning enough to be able to see where the story needs to improve, the writing tightened or expanded, etc. and strong enough to believe "I'm good and know I can do this." I have to be able to see my mistakes but not be daunted by them, and, instead, get excited about improving on what I've already done. I also have a number of solo works that are currently on my "to do list." I need to start carving out time for both the editing and the solo work. I love co-authoring, yet there are stories I can probably only tell on my own. It's hard to balance so many projects needing my attention, especially when my ability to pay attention has been hampered. There are, of course, real-world stuff outside my control that impact all this and have increased my tendency lately to just want to escape into reading instead of editing. Now, don't get me wrong. Reading is actually an important part of writing. I read a lot of non-fiction, for example, that provides a lot of the material that goes into my fiction. And I read other people's fiction both for the fun of it and for the examples of what to do (and not do) in my own work. Someone else's well written story can make me yearn to write that well. But the ego thing comes back into play here. Sometimes good writing by someone else can do the opposite of inspire but leave me feeling hopelessly unfit to write. I have to have a strong enough ego to work past the insecurity around my own shortcomings and try to improve them. The trick for me can be how to get me to go back to it rather than throw my hands up in disgust at my own work. I have had days where comments from readers who like my work made a difference in whether or not I could keep writing that day. Even weirder, sometimes reading badly done fiction by someone else helps too. It can inspire, the "I can do this better" mentality that gets me back at the keyboard. Other times, just telling someone about the story I have not finished can remind me of the things I liked about the story and get me to go back to it. Not sure if this post was for you or me. Am I procrastinating editing or getting myself psyched to do it? Both? As long as it works, eh? On the positive side of the scale today... Received another royalty check from books I wrote over a decade ago. Non-fiction doesn't usually have that long a sales life. It can become outdated quickly. Yet, my first book continues to sell. The publisher closed it's doors a couple years ago, but the corporation that owned it keeps selling the stock and I still get those checks. I write for me, I edit for readers. Writing is as much a compulsion as a talent for me, so back to that editing so I can share what I've written with others. |
| Wednesday, September 16th, 2009 | |
| 3:33 pm | The Priviledge Meme Instructions: Highlight in BOLD whatever applies to you. [I made a few notes and italics on questionable ones.] ( Read more... ) |
