Because everybody wants to rule everybody

You know... between strangers still insisting that they know better than me and my doctors about my medications and disorders and this new bizarre, creepy, fucked up conspiracy theory about actress Angelina Jolie, I think I need to put up all my psychic shields whenever I am on Facebook.

(Quick note: I once met Ms. Jolie with Mr. Pitt, very very briefly, in Washington DC, last year. I never told anyone, because who cares? She's just a person. Angelina was very beautiful, very sweet, very kind. Brad was compassionate and funny. And now, I am reading about conspiracy theories regarding her "glorifying expensive self-mutilation through the guise of pretending she wants to avoid getting cancer" and because her doctors scammed her with the "lie" that she was at high risk. And because she has the money to afford a double mastectomy and ovary removal, and because she has gone public after the first surgery, she obviously wants to spread her horrible ideas to poor mortal women who have those genes that might cause cancer in their futures, because she was lied to by this pharmaceutical company and thinks it will help women.
This conspiracy theory is so sickening that I cannot even talk to the friends who believe it. They believe it so deeply that nothing will change their minds, the same way they believe that all vaccines cause diseases and autism. I love these friends. I can still be friends with them. But I cannot speak to them about any of this. They make me want to cry and retch.)

In the meantime, the carisoprodol (Soma) and acetaminophen-codeine #3 have been working very, very well, making me highly relieved. Of course, since pharmaceuticals are poison according to some people, I am obviously destroying myself from the inside. But at least I feel better.
And then there are the supplements that are supposed to be quackery, false, hocus pocus. MSM, Hyaluronic Acid, Biotin, Devil's Claw, Alpha Lipoic Acid, Pau D'Arco, Chlorella, Shilajit, AShwagandha, Goji Berry. They are also making me feel better.

I'm so sorry to harp on all this again. But I cannot walk away from these verbal assaults. I keep trying. I just want people to leave me to my own health knowledge. I am leaving them to theirs.

Stream Of Consciousness #1

"Only Glass"

It was shortly after she had woken to the sound of glass breaking that she began to investigate. It was two in the morning on a Sunday – or Saturday night, still, technically. She sat dangling her feet over the side of the bed, stretching and slowly preparing to move more fluidly. She took the metallic blue cane that was always propped against the wall next to her nightstand. She kept canes in various rooms for that sort of reason. Her husband was away on business again. People might say that a young disabled woman home alone should never go out at night. Those people were background static. She had been born like this and it had never stopped her.
Slowly, she dressed fully: socks, panties, jeans, bra, tee shirt. Hiking style pull on boots. Her arms shook a little from the spastic hypertonia. She considered at least bringing a couple of daggers. Of course, if it wasn’t a physical kind of danger, the daggers would be somewhat useless. She grabbed a charoite wand and a black tourmaline wand and put them in her back pocket. Next to the daggers.
The sounds had come from well outside the house, so she turned on the hall light, went casually downstairs, and unlocked the door.
Taking a deep breath, she said out loud and mentally, “I am armed in both manners. I am willing to face you. If you represent a threat, you must understand what I will do to you.”
In the utter silence, the sound of glass breaking came through much louder and much closer.
In her front yard.
She opened the door, hands at her sides, right palm open to the wind while her left hand kept a firm grip on the rubber head of the cane. The glass-breaker seemed to hesitate.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said verbally and mentally. “I don’t need the cane all the time. Now. You woke me up. But you haven’t disturbed my cats yet. So you may just want something. I’m willing to talk.”
The leaves on the maple tree in her yard rustled. The entity made the sound of a wine glass striking a wood table and materialized.
“Ah,” she smiled. “It’s just you again.”

Serenity (the pony)

So, a couple of months ago, I was chatting with naamah_darling about her fabulous custom made My Little Pony dolls, which she paints herself with her own designs and even new hair. She sells them on Ebay for reasonably understandably high prices, because they are really extraordinary and unique.
I casually mentioned that one day, when I could afford it, I'd love a custom pony for myself. The matter was dropped.
And then a week or so ago, on Facebook, Naamah mentioned on Facebook that she was sending me a package. Since I've been sending her care packages full of skin care and supplements, I figured it was something similar, like a thank you. I didn't realize how anxious and excited she seemed about my receiving the package.

A couple of days ago, the box arrived. I opened it up and found the card first, with a glittery dragonfly on the cover. I opened it and on the left it read:

"Funny you should talk about a custom..."
And my heart kind of skipped.
And on the right it read:
"It took me a while to figure out her name, but it turned out to be so simple once she told me.
Serenity.
I made her thinking of you start to finish. She's all yours. She'll be a friend who can always be there for you and remind you that you are never alone.
Hope you love her. <3"

And even before I pulled away the paper wrappings, I was crying. And when I had the pony in my hands, and I saw her flank symbol, I cried even harder, murmuring "Oh my gods, oh my gods, she did this for me, she made this for me, oh my gods, this is amazing, this is so beautiful, oh oh oh..."

Because I had seen a photo, on Naamah's Livejournal, months ago, of this pony being painted, and I had instantly been pulled toward it, wishing it could be mine...
And here she is.
Meet Serenity.
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151406320840684.1073741827.640545683&type=1

Every morning, I look directly at her when I wake up, and she makes me smile. It is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Honestly, I don't think I can express it in words. Just... incredible. Love you, Naamah.