See, I knew moving back home would begin to provide me with some interesting stories. Please, allow me to start from the beginning.

I have almost always had incredibly long hair. I think for the last almost decade my hair has been below my shoulders and almost down to my waist at times. However, with the impending threat of possibly loosing my hair due to Chemo, I decided to have it cut so if I did lose it, it wouldn't be too much of a shock. It now sits just above my shoulders and I have swoop bangs. (never had bangs in my life!).

Due to the cancer I have also been having constant fevers that last all day so my parents invested in some beanie hats for me to wear to help keep me worm. Apparently the change in hair and dress style was far too much for the dog to take in at one time.

The dog in question? This one. Lizzie.

 

She is the mild-mannered sweetheart who I have dubbed Little-shit Lizzie or Chicken-shit Lizzie in the past. Why? Because she is a chicken. I was harassing the dogs one day in the past and she nearly peed all the way down the hallway when she thought I was going to break into the house. Our other dog was just standing there wagging her tail at me.

Anyway. Yesterday I am standing in the living room as my mother cooks Thanksgiving dinner and I am pulling on my layers, jacket zipped up and beanie firmly in place. When I hear Lizzie's prancing walk coming down the hall. Suddenly there is the sound of nails scrapping on the hardwood floors as the dog is trying to double back, barking viciously.

Kahlua, our 100+ pound chocolate lab comes barreling down the hall, fully prepared to get whatever cat is walking through the yard, but Lizzie isn't after a cat. Empowered by Kahlua's presence, Lizzie eyes her target and goes psycho. I'm talking the hair all the way down her back was standing on end and and the fangs were out. It was only as she charged at me did I realize she didn't recognize me.

Thankfully I was able to pull the beanie off before she got to me. She also didn't come near me for a few hours after that. Kahlua on the other hand... kept walking around to all the windows looking for the damn cat that didn't exist.

2nd Cancer Post

Just to start off, I will be posting on things besides my cancer updates. I mean, I am living back home with my parents so I am beyond positive my mother will provide me with numerous stories to tell you about and some poetry will follow as well. But on to the update.

I went to the oncologist Tuesday and got the run down of everything. One of the key things that I liked about the whole appointment was that Chemotherapy has come a long way and nausea/vomiting/fatigue is not as common as it use to me. It is still a factor in the treatment but my doctor believes that I wont be physically restricted by it much if at all. I am very happy about that.

There are different stages of the cancer and two different grades as well. I am doing several blood tests, chest x-rays, three CT scans, and a bone marrow biopsy all before next Tuesday to find out the exact stage of the cancer (how far it has progressed). The doctor determined just from my symptoms that I am at at least stage 2 of 5 and that I have several "B" symptoms which means this is the aggressive grade of the disease. But still, looking at good odds.

The treatment actually happens in six cycles, each lasting 21 days. As to how many of those days I will actually be having my treatments, we don't know yet. We have to wait for all the other testing to get in and a port or PICC line to be done. It is basically an IV catheter inserted into the artery in my upper arm, or in my chest by my heart. I am personally leaning towards the arm.

But to be honest, the biggest adjustment of this all has been moving back home. It is by far the biggest mental battle these last few days at least. It's a challenge to go from living your life the way you had envisioned it in a town that had everything you could want, to being back in a small country town and relatively dependent on your parents. HOWEVER, I thought this would be a good time to look at the positive things this move has brought with it. Here are three of them.

1) A tank of gas will last me nearly a full month. Nothing to do, no where to go, saves gas. Always a plus.

2) Access to a full size washer/dryer/dishwasher. If you have ever lived in an apartment, you know what I am talking about. Those things are tiny.

3) Mama's cooking. Nothing beats a home cooked meal, and no home cooked meal is better than my mother's cooking. Especially with my birthday being... tomorrow... huh, I thought I had a few days still. Anyway. She is going to spoil me with my favorite meal and my favorite cake. So big pluses there.


I am currently still getting settled in but hopefully the whole process will be done by next weekend so I can get to my writing, even if it is just rambles to get my thoughts out. Thank you again to everyone for all the messages and emails. They have kept me smiling and moving forward. Thank you. Thank you.

1st Cancer Post

Firstly, I want to thank absolutely everyone for their kind words, well wishes, thoughts and prayers. It is overwhelming to receive so many yet I am so unbelievable grateful for each and every one. Thank you.

I know there is a rough road ahead of me but I guess it hasn't really sunk in yet. I figure when I go to the first Oncologist appointment it will. That comes soon enough. As for right now, I am in high spirits. I mean, I'm a pretty relaxed individual to begin with. I take things as they come and don't get worked up about much. So until something comes at me with this, I'm not really feeling any nerves. Though I'm sure that will change in the next few days. lol

So I thought I would start this journey off with the decision that changed and probably in the long run will save my life, my surgery. I had actually been tempted to put it off when it was first suggested due to limited finances, but thankfully (and an odd thankfully it is) the pain was so bad that it interfered too much with my daily life to be ignored. So I did what I needed to and scheduled the surgery for as soon as I could.

For my first post, I want to remember the first real step in the right direction. And I mean... chicks dig scars, right???

It's about two inches long and the stitches just came out Monday when I found out the news. My mother joked that I waited too long because Halloween was the day BEFORE my surgery. I could have gone as Frankenstein.

Wish I could find the picture after my needle biopsies... Looked like a vampire had gotten a hold of me. (Side note, it is so red and the extra lines on my neck are from the layers of tape we had just removed. No worries.)

And now just over a week later. (And yes I purposefully wore the same shirt. I am that much of a dork.):

I will be posting another update once I get settled back home and see my new doctor on Tuesday. Thank you all again. You are making this a good start to a long journey.

Question: Love

I have been asked several questions recently on the topic of love. Am I currently or have I ever been in love? Do I believe in true love or love at first sight?

I hesitated to answer these questions because most  tend to have strong feelings on this topic and I didn't want to ruffle any feathers. But since I have been asked about it several times, I figure I might as well try my hardest to answer. lol.

Do I believe in true love or love at first sight?

No but yes. I do believe that you can love someone as a person as soon as you meet them. However, I do not believe you can fall in love with someone at first sight. Loving and being in love are two very different things and the depth of emotion it takes to qualify as being in love is far, far, far too deep to feel by just seeing someone in my opinion.

Have I ever been, or am I currently in love?

My answer sort of works with the above response. I have always been a deeply emotional person, however, I have shut myself off from people for the majority of my life. I hid for a very long time from everyone while i struggled with accepting myself. I am currently learning to open up and sharing with people, giving them the opportunity to learn about me in the depth it would require to fall in love with me.

Hopefully that answered all of your questions. If you have anymore, feel free to ask. I will be posting again soon. I promise.

Updated Pic and Questions

Alrighty. Someone asked for an updated pic of my tattoo and I will gladly post. But just to make note... it is really, really hard to take a picture of a white ink tattoo. Especially one in this placement...

Also, I have been emailed several questions that I will be answering on love, true love, and being in love. But since they are pretty serious topics, I will be posting those answers later.

My Parents and Video Games

My parents have never really been big fans of video games. Well, maybe with Atari. And we rarely had video games in the house. A Sega Genesis that lasted about a year. Then a GameCube that was solely mine. But then... enter the Wii.

They loved Wii Bowling from the first time they were talked into playing it, but after spending some time with that, I tried to get my mother to branch out a bit more. She opted for Wii Boxing. I spent a few minutes showing her how if she moved her hands, the hands on her Mii moved as well and would punch my Mii. She got it quickly and was ready to go. We are both standing in front of the TV watching as the countdown flashes over the screen. 3... 2... 1...

Suddenly the woman jumps sideways and starts punching me in the arm as fast as she possibly can, laughing and grinning ear to ear as she did so. Once I was snapped out of my shock by the pain she was inflicting, I tried to retreat but she followed, continuing her assault on my arm. I'm yelling for her to stop but it's nearly impossible to hear over the roaring and hysterical laughter from my cousins who were watching my mother beat the crap out of me from the safety of the couch. I retreat a bit further into the kitchen and she yields, only to say: "What are you doing? You can't fight from over there!"

After a moment of staring wide-eyed at the woman as she playfully bounces her weight from side to side, ready to pounce again the second I return to the living room, I shake my head. "You aren't suppose to actually hit me!"

She freezes, straightens her posture and looks at the Miis on the TV. "Oh."

I have never played another video game with my mother since then.

Memories

It's funny how talking about random things causes old memories that you had forgotten long ago to pop back up. That happened this morning when I was talking with a friend about sleeping which lead to sleep walking/talking which then lead to stories of my mother of course.

My mother use to talk in her sleep all the time, like, full conversations. It wasn't uncommon when I was growing up to be woken in the middle of the night by my mother talking rather loudly. It was never really directed at anyone and most of the time was relatively unintelligible. However, one night stood out amongst all the rest in my mind.

I was probably 13 and it was about two in the morning. I was laying in my bed, my eyes were closed and I was in that light form of sleep when:

Mom: Brandi!
Me: (jumps awake, startled)
Mom: Brandi!
Me: What?
Mom: Shut the hell up and go to bed!
Me: I was.
Mom: I don't care. Go to bed.

It always makes you feel special to know that your mother even yells at you in her sleep. At least you know you've made a lasting impression

Today

So, today... I'm pretty sure was one of those days where the world got a laugh at my expense. Because you are left with no other choice but to find the humor in a head ache that just wouldn't go away and forces you to lay down and sleep it away... only to have to listen for the next thirty minutes as the ice cream truck circles your apartment complex playing "O Come All Ye Faithful".

My Morning

So... I'm driving down the road today, early in the morning, on my way to go shopping with my sister when she reaches across the car, between my arms, and honks the car horn.

I'm confused at this point as there are no cars in front of me, beside me, nor behind me. In fact, the only people around are two women taking a morning jog on the side walk.

Me: (panicked by the rudeness of honking the horn) What are you doing?
Danielle: Getting their attention.
Me: Oh, do you know them from the gym?
Danielle: No, but they're hot and now they're looking at you.

Introductions Round 4

My Sister's Name: Danielle
Age: ...that's information I am not going to risk giving out for fear of being tackled, pinned to the ground, and having my face licked... and totally not in the good way. But she is my older sister.

So, I've been hesitant about making this introduction despite my sister's frequent appearances in my other little stories. Mainly out of fear. I've been too afraid of putting in something that would piss her off and having the above mentioned scenario play out. But she has still been pushing for her introduction and rightfully so. In fact, she has asked for me to clarify something. So I am now clarifying and giving credit where credit is due.

Some of you may remember a quick little example from the fic BWYDT of how horrible Quinn's cooking skills are. To be more specific, when she nearly killed someone with the best tasting meatloaf ever made. Well, that story I took from real life. The cook: My sister. You see, one night she decided that she wanted to cook for us. Meatloaf to be exact. But a problem my sister has is her... lacking desire to do as instructed. So when it came time to season the meatloaf, she decided to be creative, adding nearly every season and spice my mother had in her spice rack.

Now I must say that it tasted absolutely amazing. So good in fact, that we all had several servings of it. A fact that we were later regretting as we all fought over the bathrooms and swore we were going to die.

And actually, while I'm onto the topic of Danielle and her cooking adventures, lets discuss Macaroni and Cheese. You know, that quick and easy to make meal? Boil water, add noodles, add milk, add butter, add cheese. Yeah... four times. It took her four times before she was able to make Mac and Cheese correctly.

Oh! Rewind to Christmas two years ago. At my mother's request we spent an evening baking cookies and candies like we use to when we were younger, each of us responsible for our own type of cookie. I made peanut butter sugar cookies and Danielle went with this box-ready chocolate-chocolate chip cookie. And yes... she screwed it up somehow. I still haven't figured out how. Apparently it was a miscalculation when she decided to do a double batch, but it was a disaster. She nearly broke our mixer. It was rendered useless as the overly thick batter clogged it up and was then required to be mixed by hand... and somehow it ended up being done by my hands as Danielle sat back and watched.

 (And yes, the batter you see stuck to everything did get there from when she pulled the mixer out and still had it running)

And so there we are. She wanted her credit and now she has it. And to make sure I don't end up pinned on the ground and tortured... again. I will finish this introduction off by saying that she actually is a good cook... most of the time.

I Still Can't Believe She Did That

In this photo... is the look of guilt. The look of shame. The look of embarrassment.

My sister, her dog, and myself went on a road trip this weekend to visit my parents back up north. It's a trip I have made four times in the last two months but this time was different. Why? Because we took my sister's dog. This dog is... unique. She has her little quirks and has them in abundance. There are even a few that pertain to traveling. Some even requiring my sister to drug the animal before the trip starts. However, we did not this time.

We took my car and covered the back seat with a sheet to cut down on the dog hair and then added a thicker blanket to prepare for the vomiting. Because that is what this dog does. All the time. For no reason. But never once, there always has to be a second time.

So we start to leave town completely prepared for the possible vomiting. The dog is thrilled to be going for a ride and is pacing back and forth in the back seat as my sister drives and screams for her to sit down. About that time another car cuts her off and she slams on the breaks. No big deal, we didn't get hit and no one was hurt, but Danielle continued to lecture the dog about sitting down.

I told her to calm down the dog was working on it until I noticed something rather odd about her hunched posture. After I noticed the odd posture, I then noticed the odd smell. When my sister slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting the car that cut us off, she literally scared the shit out of the dog. That's right. The dog shit in the back seat of my car.

For several miles we had to drive with the foul stench of fresh dog poop filling the car regardless of having all the windows down until we reached an exit and found an available dumpster to discard the (thankfully) multiple layers of seat protection. When we were finished, I looked into the back seat and saw this face. So much guilt in those eyes that I couldn't even be mad at her. However, my sister is responsible for thoroughly cleaning my car this week... it has been violated.

Time... to make fun of myself

It's one of the things I do best and probably always will. I mean, I provide myself with countless opportunities so I decided to share a few. To be more specific, I refer to these as my 'my mind is somewhere else but I really need it to be here' moments.

What brought this up? Well, last night I was chatting with a friend while laying in my bed when I turned my head and looked at the shade-less lamp on my night stand. This is when I had one of my 'moments'. My body decided to reach over and touch the light bulb of the lamp to see if it was hot. It wasn't thankfully, but my mind didn't register what I was doing until I had already done it.

Now, I know what you are thinking and let me reassure you that my intelligence level is actually above average. I've taken several IQ tests and they all say the same thing. I just have moments where my brain states the quickest way to find my answer and my body reacts in accordance before that 'but it's going to hurt' comment is added.

For example, standing out in our front yard a few years ago after my father had just finished installing an electric fence to keep our dogs from digging their way out. My question: Is the fence on and does it really work? My body's response: Reach down and grab it.

Yes. It was on and yes, it really did work.

Random Statement

I never thought I would complain about having an apartment built on a lake... But the ducks quaking non-frickin-stop at six in the morning have caused me to change my mind.

Anyway, this weekend has ended up being consumed by unpacking, but once I get everything settled Monday, I'll start posting some more. I promise. I also have a chapter for There's Always Tomorrow to be posted as well.

Question: What kind of a student were you?

Question: What kind of a student were you?

Answer:

That depends on what you are referring to. If you are referring to grades, I was a great student, graduating with honors and a 3.9 GPA, ranked in the top 10% of my class, in the National Honors Society for all four years...

But if you are asking as in my day to day school life... that may be a little bit different of an answer. You see, on my official transcripts, it says that my senior year I only missed eight days of school all year. Yeah... right... I think that if I was to tally up the days that I actually went to every class for the full amount of time, it might equal eight. How did I manage to pull that off? With the help of my best friend.

We were skipping our third block class one day and decided to visit the Principal. Yes, while skipping class we willingly went to the Principal's office. Why? Because he had buckets of candy in his office. So we were sitting there, chilling, talking about sports and events going on in town, munching on gumdrops and sour worms, then we said our goodbyes and left. On our way out we had to walk through the attendance office. I know... not only are we skipping and being seen by the Principal, but the attendance officer as well. But on our way out my friend turns around and tells the attendance officer that one of our teachers ran out of hall passes and needed some more. The woman smiled and said 'Okay. Here are two pads of them. Can you take them to him?'

Sure! So we are now in possession of two stacks of hall passes, ready to be used at our will. But half the time we didn't even need them. I had made an agreement with my pre-calc teacher that I would stay in class long enough to do the three daily problems he put on the board and then I could leave, only needing to come back for tests and quizzes (leaving right after them as well).

I took an art class my senior year and when I completed my first project on the third day of the semester, I asked the teacher if I could leave, she said sure. When I came back the next day, she asked me why I was there. I looked at her funny and asked if that meant I could leave again. She again asked me why I was there. So I asked her what about tomorrow. She said as far as the attendance book indicated, I was always in class and on time. Sweet!

Then there was my favorite teacher, the one I told you about a few posts back that kicked me out of class for getting an A on a test. Yeah. That would go down like this:

Me: (poking my head in the door and waving my hand) Hi Mac!

Teacher: What do you want?

Me: Just making sure you saw that I was here today.

Teacher: I see you.

Me: Okay. I'm going to go now.

Teacher: Whatever. (returns his attention to his newspaper)

Then there were the really weird days where our audio/visual tech needed something from a store across town and unlocked the gates so my friend and I could drive to go get it, giving us his credit card to do so. Did I mention this 'town' was Daytona Beach. I guess I should use the term city next time. We also had a different teacher give us his debit card and pin number so we could pull money out of his bank account buy him and ourselves lunch... allowing us to skip class in order to do it as well.

So, to answer your question, on paper, I was an excellent student. In reality... eh, not so much.

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Just thought I'd sneak this one in here since I had some extra time. Also, I will be getting back to writing 'There's Always Tomorrow', but I found myself having to reread BWYDT to find out what exactly I had already written about Adrianne's family. So I've been stuck on that story until I finished it up. I only have a few chapters to go so I should be posting again on that any day. I'm so sorry that I have left you all hanging as long as I have. But BWYDT is just so frickin long!

Mom's... well it's my Mom so you know what that means

The day after Thanksgiving my mother, father, sister, and I were siting around the table eating. During the flowing discussion, my mother was relaying events that unfolded on a TV show, House Hunters International to be exact. As she talked about the show, she hesitated mid-sentence and then continued on. However, that hesitation caught my attention for one undeniable reason.

Me: Did you just say 'cock'?
Mom: No.

Danielle: I thought I hear that too.

Dad: I wasn't going to say anything but I saw Brandi catch it as well.

Mom: I did not say that.

All of us: Yes you did.

Mom: Why are you picking on me?

Me: We aren't picking on you. We're just trying to figure out how the word 'cock' fits into anything you were saying.

Mom: It doesn't. That's why I didn't say it.

Then the next day at breakfast the same topic came up and my mother's denial continued, except this time... she gave us an excuse:

Danielle: No. You said cock.

Mom: I did not. I was in the middle of saying a word and stopped. That's what you heard.

Me: If so, you would have been in the middle of saying the word 'country'. Then you would have said 'cunt', not 'cock'.

Dad: (yells from a distant room in the house) That's right!

Mom: I didn't say cock!

Me and Danielle: Yes you did!

Mom: No I didn't! Now stop talking about it or I'm going to wash all of your mouths out with soap.

The Photo Challenge

I was challenged via email to go through my pictures on my computer and post 10 random photos (not of myself). I have accepted said challenge and now present you with those random photos. I will be getting back to your questions this week. I have several lined up including how/why Glee/Faberry, some more about school, and some other random ones. I haven't forgotten them. I promise.

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Moving

There are certain things you realize when you are moving.

Firstly, you begin to question just how you manged to accumulate so much stuff. Secondly, your sentimental attachment to said 'stuff' diminishes by about the third box you pack. That then causes you to begin to wonder if the energy and space it would take to pack each object outweighs what it would cost to replace it once you got to wherever it is that you are going. Next, you have a gradual realization of what controls your life as you put off packing anything dealing with your computer. You need your connection to the outside world because a TV just doesn't do it anymore. And as the boxes pile up, you begin to wonder if the moving day will ever get here or if you will be packing for the rest of your life, yet when it does come, you are left trying to figure out how it came so quickly. I have moved 11 times now. With each time I have moved, I have found that I get to the various steps much quicker than I use to.

My Mother: Yes, she is for real

I am in the back seat of my parent's minivan on our way up to Tennessee. We're driving through the back roads in the middle of the country around lunch time. I'm talking open fields, horses, cows, hay barrels. All that good stuff. I'm having a nice conversation with my father about something completely normal when this happens.

Dad: My truck even tells me when I need to change the oil. It has a computer that does some sort of calculations and it tells me.

Me: That's cool. Be nice if mine told me. I always forget about changing the oil.

Dad: That's not good.

Me: I-

Mom: (gasping dramatically and pointing out the window) is that a UFO?

Me and Dad: ...

Mom: Oh, it's just a water tower. Never mind.

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Really?

Something Special To Share

I just got home from work and decided to check my other email account. I usually don't because most everything is sent to the one that I use for this blog, yet I decided to anyway. I had one unread message and I will post it now:
~/~/~/~

I have been following your blog since you started it and am very impressed with the scope of your phenomenal writing talent (skills is not a descriptive enough word, it falls short by miles). The pride I have in you now will be minuscule compared to what I know I will have in you later in life as you  expand beyond a blog and your fanfic endeavors.

There have been a few inaccuracies in some of your postings and being the perfectionist that you and your fans know I am, it has been difficult for me to not correct them but they are in your world so I will leave them alone. Except for one.

I will admit that I have not reacted to your "coming out" in any way. That is because there is nothing to react to.  You are still my daughter and I love you just as much now as I did before and as much before as I do now. You are also still just as aggravating.

What you need to remember and always keep in the back of your mind is that your mother and I grew up in a totally different time. Try as you might you cannot fully comprehend or grasp the full scope of that difference.  As a male of the human species I grew up learning to be strong and in control of my emotions and even though today it might not be unmanly to display your emotions to the world, I find it almost impossible to do so. Keeping everything inside is just part of me

As for your mother, she has no problem displaying her emotions. She is old school just like I am except her upbringing programmed he to be a wife and mother. That includes visualizing life down the road of her children doing the same thing. From the time she was a little girl she has practiced "family stuff" and that is a part of who she is. Nothing will ever change that.  The difference between us is that being female and Italian on top of that your mother has no problem being dramatic and vocal about her feelings.  Do not for an instant equate this with loving you any less because it wont happen.

I think I will stop at this point but I am reserving the option to comment later if the mood or uncontrollable urge strikes me.  Feel free to share this with your fans if you want or to keep it to yourself or to ignore it if that suits you.

Your loving Dad

P.S.  Your sister got her hazel eyes from me. My eyes were brown/green when I was younger just like hers are.  It even stated such on my Wisconsin drivers license.

~/~/~/~

I have since spoken with my father and thanked him for opening up as much as he did. It was more than I could have ever imagined coming from him (a man of few words).

And while I want to take all of what was said to heart, and I mostly do, I still have issues with my mother's reaction. I understand that having a gay daughter is not something someone from her generation ever expects. I get that. I understand that it's not something easy to accept. My issues with her reaction is primarily with the fact that she taught us to accept differences, to embrace them, to celebrate them even, be proud of who you are if you're different. But when given the opportunity to do so, she did the opposite on multiple occasions.

I'm not saying that she loves me any less. I guess I just feel that she let me down as a role model. We hold our parents to be the prime example of what we are suppose to strive to be and take their advice to heart, whether we follow it or not. And to believe something about someone for so long only to have it be proven incorrect when you are depending on it most... it hurts. I know my mother still loves me and I love her regardless of the things she says, but that doesn't stop them from hurting and I just wish that she would see that.

My Confession

I have a confession to make. I, am a dork. In many ways but those other ones don't really matter. The reason I am referring to at the moment is my love for museums and aquariums. I can't exactly explain what it is about them that draws me in and keeps my mind happy, but it works every time. I love museums and aquariums so much, that they would actually be an ideal date for me (something to keep you talking as well as dim lighting should you two already be familiar with each other). Especially the aquarium my parents and I visited on our last family vacation in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I could have spent hours in there.

This aquarium actually has two separate buildings. One focusing on river life and the second focusing on ocean life. Here are some pictures I took during our visit. As always, click to see them larger.



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Going through all of these photos reminded me of a few stories to share so I will be getting to those tomorrow. I will also get back to some of your questions.