This Is Not A Mummy Blog

While the little one sleeps, I'm stealing a moment to update my very loved and completely neglected blog. But if I loved it so, would I neglect it in this fashion? Sure. I think of it like long lost friends - the ones who, no matter how long you are apart, act the same when they see you again. Some bonds you simply cannot break. This blog is one of those bonds. For crying out loud, I've had this damn thing since 2006. That's ten years!

Ten years of blogging. Someone get me a medal. No seriously. Do you know how many people start blogs and abandon them without care or concern? Thousands. There are literally thousands of lost blogs floating around the interweb with one or two posts and then - nothing. How tragic. And yet, here I am. Still plugging away on what use to be That Girl Tyson. Sure, I only posted a handful of times last year, but I posted 339 times in 2014. That's almost a blog a day, which is actually what I was going for.

Trust me when I say there is a lot of hidden content on here. After ten years, there are probably close to a hundred posts I've turned to drafts again in hopes of them being forever forgotten. Not simply because there were riddled with poor grammar, which they were, but because they are too private or silly. Either or. The others I've gone back and re-edited, hoping to clear away the errors.

In fact, I just edited my last post and found four errors. Unacceptable. I can't believe I hit publish without correcting 'excitement' and 'friendships'. I even misspelled 'will'. It's a four letter word, how the hell did I misspell it? Probably something to do with sleep deprivation and carb-overdosing. Yes, I don't sleep enough and I am eating too much food. Some will say I need the food to create the milk to feed the babe, but the truth is my breasts are a big dodgy and have issues sustaining life. Long story short, this isn't a mummy blog. So we will end that right here. 

The point of this post is to tell you this isn't going to be all about my wee infant. I am not going to post photos and updates, and talk about the pros and cons of motherhood. There will be no tricks to putting a babe to sleep or ways to make the bitty one stop bawling, I don't know those types of things anyway. Isn't the best approach to simply repeat "please stop crying" and "please go to sleep" over and over? Or am I doing this wrong. 

So, this ins't a mummy blog, as the title states. Except, the problem is, he's currently my entire existence. Whenever I get to thinking about writing a little blip here, it's always about him. I have five drafts I simply didn't share with you because it's all about him and his perfect mouth and hands and bum and eyes. And then there are those times I want to write about the birth. Mostly, I think, because I still have PTSD from his entrance into the world and, well, I want to talk about all the gory details. Just to put them down somewhere. Because people always say you forget the details of the birth and, quite frankly, I don't want to. I want to remember everything, from the sound my waters made when they broke them to the poop I left behind on the floor. Too much information? Sorry not sorry. Birthing is beautiful. It's disgustingly beautiful. Horrifically beautiful. Batshit beautiful. 

Batshit beautiful. Now, that's a saying I can see catching on. I'm trademarking it. 

To clear things up, I don't have anything against mummy blogs, except for the fact that I don't think people really want to read them. I mean, I've read my fair share as I try to stumble through being a mom, but everything has already been said about parenting. I certainly don't have anything worthy to add. So, I promise I won't write about the Timbit all the time - but sometimes, yes, because I can't help myself! The thing is, just because he consumes my life right now doesn't mean I won't have other thoughts later. I suppose I am making a promise. Not just to you, but to myself as well. I promise to write again. Not only blogs but novels and stories too. I am determined to be creative. Maybe not right now, but it's coming. Big things are coming. I can feel it in my bones. And on that day, watch out.

Ten years and I am still toiling away. Labour of love, indeed. Actually, October is my true ten year anniversary here, according to my first posted blog. So, I suppose I'll throw a party then and someone will get me a tin gift. It's tin for ten years right? 

I'm sure I will have become a big, successful, household named author by then. Go ahead, laugh with me. 

Possessiveness - Day 23

The whole idea of possession is so very intriguing to me. To be taken over by demons, controlled and contorted, twisted and tortured. For me, this always has had a parallel to mental health. Of course, in the movies and books, the person afflicted is literally possessed by demons, sometimes Lucifer himself. I myself cannot say if this is true or not. It is like meditation and hitting that higher plain. It is like people who unlock their past lives.

I have never experienced this. But that does not make it untrue. After all, I have never seen a narwhal whale but that does not mean they do not exist.

Last night, I watched two possession movies. The Exorcism of Emily Rose and this more recent film.

Title: The Possession
Year: 2012
Synopsis: A young girl buys an antique box at a yard sale, unaware that inside the collectible lives a malicious ancient spirit. The girl's father teams with his ex-wife to find a way to end the curse upon their child.

Tagline: Fear the demon that doesn't fear God.

A little girl buys a cool looking box from a garage sale and starts acting all sorts of messed up. Of course, a demon is inside the box and it tries to take over the girl. Not a crappy plot line, except no one in the movie acted accordingly.

Remember in Exorcist when Regan's behaviour started changing her and her mother noticed and tried to get her help. Apparently, the Brenek family doesn't have those natural instincts. I can tell you this much, if my gentle, lovely, animal loving daughter suddenly stabs me in the hand with a fork one breakfast morning, you best believe she'd be making a trip to the doctor's office and a therapist. The reason they don't? She must be feeling the affect from their divorce, which happened months prior.

Though this whole movie I sat there wondering, why the hell isn't anyone helping the obviously disturbed and unhappy Emily?

Her obsession with the box alone would raise some eyebrows. And the fact that her finger was turning green and swelling from the ring she was wearing. How did anyone not notice this? It reminded me of the time I put a rubber band around my finger to the point that I couldn't get it off. At first, I panicked, but when my finger started turning blue, I decided I needed to tell my mom because I didn't want to lose the tip of my finger. This was over the span of twenty minutes. Needless to say, if my entire hand went blue, my mom would have noticed. The fact that neither the mother or father in this didn't seem to care that her finger was practically falling off leads me to believe they are neglectful.

And what kind of parent buys a weird box for their child but doesn't investigate how to open it or what's inside. There could have been drugs or porno in there! Instead, there was just a demon that ended up possessing the daughter.

You know what this movie really suffered from? The inability to hurt any of the main characters. Right from the first ten minutes, I knew what was going to happen. I knew everything was going to be okay for the Brenek family, that they would all be alive and well by the end, but the box would some how fall into the wrong hands. Maybe it was so predictable because I've seen far too many horror movies before. Or maybe it was predictable because this is he classic Hollywood way. They only like to kill the people you aren't connected to. These people should take a cue from George R.R. Martin, I'm still suffering the depression from him killing ... everyone. (No Game of Throne spoilers here!)

Let's put the bashing of this lack-luster film (that I was really looking forward to watching) to the side and detail what didn't disappoint.

There were a few greatly creepy scenes. The fingers down the throat of the girl. A demon being shown in the MRI. And the boyfriend's teeth falling out. That's about it. Granted, the movie did start out with a bang, but why didn't the family go back to the original owner and ask a few questions?

Just doesn't make sense.