The Geebling Buffistas.

Worthy sucessors to the Gargling Gershwins.

I am guilty of envy. I am also guilty of feeling guilty when something lovely happens to me. I had an entry about that in LJ today, that I'm trying to get beyond that response. Basically, in my very own life, I think I've earned any happiness, joy, or pleasure that comes my way. That life is far fuller of grey, leaden, draining events and endless joyless times than it is of fun, but the joy is so wonderful, the happiness is so piercing-- Well, it has to be, to achieve that balance. And that I--myself, nobody else, for I'm only sharing, not advising--am far happier if I hold onto the joyous moments, if I experience them vicariously through loved ones' and friends' achievements and blessings, and let the wearisome neverending greyness go, as much as I can.

I used to believe I controlled what happened to me. Now I believe life is a lot more random than I used to think--and that everything that happens isn't necessarily my karma. Sometimes it is just random, and I need to accept that if I did what I could and didn't screw up on purpose, that whatever bad stuff happens really isn't my fault. I take responsibility for my screwups, and for lots more than just that, for more than just my own. But I don't think I control much, if any of it.

Um. Sorry for the ramble. I'll delete, if anyone objects.

(aging unmakeupabble publishing crone, er, hag, er, veteran, sulking in corner from lack of geebling)

Oh stop that. That's not true in the slightest, and you know it.

Sometimes it is just random, and I need to accept that if I did what I could and didn't screw up on purpose, that whatever bad stuff happens really isn't my fault.

Beverly, that's what I believe. Which is why I also believe that when good, wonderful, joyous things happen, people should celebrate them.

(For the record, I also do believe in some sort of Powers That Be; I just don't think they pay a lot of attention to the day-to-day running of The Universe. Sometimes they step in and Do Something, just to keep in practice. But mostly, The Universe is random. Very, very random.)

Oh stop that. That's not true in the slightest, and you know it.

Honey, my tongue was so far into my cheek, it was poking a hole through it. Trust me, any time I want to paint up and geeble, I'll do precisely that thing.

Which is why I also believe that when good, wonderful, joyous things happen, people should celebrate them

So do I. I just like celebrating cool shit happening to people I like, though. Nothing to do with random or not-random, in my head.

It just feels nice when nice stuff goes down. A reason to dance? to drink prosecco with fresh berries? to occasionally cry like a widow and take a bit of healing away, and then maybe do a decent job sharing it with language?

Hell yes. If pain's the price of admission, what's joy but the payoff?

If pain's the price of admission, what's joy but the payoff?

Wrods to live by.

Jilli, I squee for you! I've got bats in my tummy (no butterflies, here, nosiree, not for you) that you knock the agent dead.

And I am as Bev. It took me a long time to get to the point where I could tell the difference between what I should accept as my fault and what I could never have had any direct influence on. Sometimes, I swung from taking no responsibility when I should have to taking it all when none of it was mine. It would have been nice to have had that built in from birth instead of having to learn it the hard way.

Not feeling the publication love...unless it's the fucked up kind where they torture me because they like me so much. Not sure where I stand on the personal choice thing because some of the stuff I have to slog through? I didn't get a vote on.

I think that while most of the time you don't get to choose the shit that you have to slog through of course, you do get to choose how you handle it.

I think that while most of the time you don't get to choose the shit that you have to slog through of course, you do get to choose how you handle it.

This. While things that happen to me are often random, the way I react to those things and how I handle them are totally my choice.

OK, a writing question. As in, info requested for Cleveland Rocks, and my WIP readers might want to skip this one, since it's a bit of a spoiler for what happens in the next couple of chapters.

Character A is young, a marathon runner in his spare time, totally healthy except for a mild intermittent cardiac arrhythmia, for which he takes the occasional low dose of a specific medicine, as required.

He's just spent a week working on a project with my narrator, JP. He's stayed with JP and Bree. They came to know him, and really like him. Bree's mother Miranda - established in book one - is a surgeon. Important part of story arc.

They get a call that character A has been found dead of an apparent heart attack - he dropped dead, flatlined, while jogging near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. No apparent cause for the heart attack.

JP is about to be handed a very strong reason to believe that something was done to Character A to take him down. Compounding this is the fact that Miranda had met Character A and spent some time with him during his visit. She's puzzled and uneasy about him dying the way he did.

Here's my question: what's the protocol, if she wanted to ring up Character A's cardiologist in Cleveland? Since the patient is dead, would she have to jump through HIPPA hoops to talk to the patient's heart doctor?

Deb, there's a HIPAA page with searchable FAQ's.

Woot! Bookmarked. Thanks, bebe. I was spelling it HIPPA (edit: which sounds ranmdom but isn't - didn't know where to look. Now I do.)