lots to tell

Kept meaning to pop in and say hi but lots has happened and little time to post about it.

If you are a reader here, it shouldn't surprise you that I start nearly every post with some sort of excuse about my good intentions of blogging more often and my complete failure to do so.  That is me I'm afraid. LOL

So I am editing my book like mad right now.  Well editing as much as I can, life keeps getting in the way and I'm trying hard to discipline myself to allot even a small amount of time each day to work on it.

I got amazing feedback from the lovely author I wrote about last post.  She read my document and had lots of suggestions of how to improve it.  I am uber grateful to have some constructive criticism.  Now my goal is to fiddle with it until I've got it right.

I haven't got very far yet, I've added scenes and re-written some.  Slowly, slowly it's coming together and feels more well rounded.  I wonder how other authors go, how many re-writes are done before the finished product is released.  Reading some blogs of some of my favourite indi authors, they seem to be able to crank out near perfect work first time. (Jealous much Shish?  Hell yes!) Surely it can't be that easy, but good on you if it is.

Anyway, working on my book is making me happy, though when I find I'm not getting the time... it makes for a very crabby Shish.

My depression has been a bit up an down.  I'm not sure if anyone around here notices but I do.  I think they just put it down to me being cranky but it's not just that.  I do crave solitude, I'm a happier, nicer person to be around if I'm allowed some time to myself.  Of course the dreaded PMT has a part to play as well, some months are better than others... again people see this as grumpiness but it's also insecurity, paranoia and some times thoughts of self harm bubbling beneath the surface in varying degrees.

Despite my need for alone time, sometimes I want attention.  I want to be loved in the way I love.  I want to be the one being looked after, being coddled and cherished.  Hell I don't want to always be the one who has to come looking for a cuddle when I want one.  I want to be  pursued once in a while.  This is where depression really bites me in the ass.  Everything feels so much bigger and worse than it really is.

Don't worry, all is well in the land of Shish, really it is.  Guess every now and then, a rant is all I need.

Ok so onwards...
Last week I made a quick trip with my kids interstate for a funeral.  My aunt on my mother's side.  It was a snap decision, I asked work for the time off and was granted it and felt like it was the right thing to do.  You only get one chance to say goodbye.  My kids don't remember my aunt that well but it was school holidays and a good opportunity for them to meet a lot of my extended family and see their grandparents.

It wasn't a bad trip overall.  My parents (especially my dad) really looked after us.  From picking us up at the airport and taking us back to their house (an 8 hour round trip) to paying for everything while we were there, not letting us lift a finger... my dad even did my laundry! Then they drove us back to the city, stayed with us over night and my dad took us to the airport for the early morning flight home.  I told them we didn't mind staying on our own and catching a cab but dad wouldn't hear of it.

My mum needed the support, she hadn't seen her sister for a little while before she passed away. She'd had a cold she'd not wanted to pass on and then hadn't gotten around to driving to see her once she was well.  She wanted to go to the viewing and no one else wanted to go too so I said I would.  I've been to very few funerals before and never to a viewing, I'd rather remember a loved one the way I last saw them or by a favourite memory rather than seeing their empty shell lying in a coffin.

So it wasn't exactly pleasant for me, for some reason I imagined that the morticians did makeup on the deceased so they looked normal (as in alive) but that's not how my aunty looked.  We only stayed a few minutes, my Mum said her goodbyes and cried and I drove her back to another relatives place where my dad and kids were hanging out until we were done.

It got me thinking about morticians and their jobs (of all things!) When I did my diploma in Beauty Therapy, I remember a girl in the course who wanted to do the makeup at a funeral home.  You know what?  They could really do with some skilled therapists.  I don't mean that the people who do it aren't, maybe there are some who are great at it and the person who worked on my aunt wasn't, unfortunately.  What I mean is that, there could be a lot of things done to improve the whole viewing experience.  Introducing soft lighting and music for example.  The makeup could be a hell of a lot more "life like" if you know what I mean, right down to their hands or any other exposed part of the deceased's skin getting the treatment.  My aunty's hands looked awful.

I don't know, I don't think I'd want a viewing for myself.  I don't want people looking at me dead.  But I really felt that my Aunt could have had better.  So that's me thinking out loud.

Ok so I think I've blathered on long enough, thanks for hanging in there if you've stayed this long.  I appreciate it.

Hope life is good to you, take care x o