Remembering My Baby

I haven’t done this in a while, I guess. So, here goes. All of my books will be free to download as e-books (kindle) on Amazon, from July 5th to July 7th.

Check them out here;

https://starstonestenfalk.wordpress.com/e-books/

You don’t need a kindle, just download the kindle app on your phone, computer, or tablet, and you are good to go. But ya’ll know this by now, right?

And yes, I will have book 4 in The Legacy Series out… soon… Some time this year, I hope. Working on it. Promise.

For now, my 11 other books will be free for a few days, so please download them if you are into Fantasy– (Starstone,) Sicence/fantasy– (Legacy,) Poetry– (This Song,) Natural Horsemanship– (Surviving the Equestrian World,) or check out my Short Stories Collection, if you like something that is a bit quicker to read.

July 5th is a special day to me. I know that to most of the world, (or at least the US,) the 4th of July is the day to celebrate, but my Apollon was born on July 5th.

So, here is to my baby, and to never letting him die.

Your Song

The world cries for you tonight

Clouds keep rolling in above

Pouring rain into our hearts

The world holds its breath tonight

The calm before the storm

In silent disbelief and horror

If this is your song

Can we make it a happy one?

If this is your legacy

Can we sing it a loving tune?

If this is your melody

Can I print it to memory?

The world crashed and burned tonight

Flames ran across the scarlet sky

As the sun failed to shine through the rain

The wind sings your song tonight

Every rain drop in perfect harmony

As your blood seeps into the ground

If this is your song

Can we make it a happy one?

If this is your legacy

Can we sing it a loving tune?

If this is your melody

Can I print it to memory?

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Cushings Update

Remember this guy?

He still got it.

I know, the baby shot displays a way better collection, but think of him as a lazy teenager at the moment, kinda all grown apart, with a shoulder that is way too small for his behind…

The point is, Ablaze is still the star that keeps me smiling everyday. It’s funny how he came into my life because I wanted Tardis and she was pregnant with him, and he turned out to be the one.

He waits for me to show up every day, he starts calling out the second he hears my scooter on the road, a long way away, and he always comes running, even when the others can’t be bothered. And yes, he still licks my face. I doubt that will ever go away.

4 years. That’s how old Tardis was when she had him. I can’t believe he is already 4 years old. And she is 8. The picture below is Tardis, by the way. They look a lot alike 😉

It’s a bit up and down with her at the moment. I was warned by a lot of people, when she was first diagnosed with Cushings, that medicating her might not be the best solution, but my vets were very sure and I have to admit, it made sense to me. It still does.

I do see what people warned me about, though. The medication has side effects, like depression and loss of appetite.

At first, she just improved. The huge belly and the swellings went down, she started playing again, and all in all, she felt much happier and less stressed than she had in a long time. It felt almost too easy, to just give her a little pill everyday, and watch this fatal illness disappear.

It turns out, it was. As much as her last blood work came back perfect, I started seeing a change for the worse in her lately.

Tardis was always a pony who would eat a lot. I am not saying that she was starved with her previous owners, none of them, because I don’t think she was, but she displays a lot of behavior of a horse that hasn’t had unlimited access to food all her life. Or, perhaps, of a small pony who has had to fight for the hay on the pasture.

Since I got her, she would linger by the hay with Marble, long after the boys had stopped eating and walked away.

Suddenly, that changed. I started to notice that she didn’t even want to show up when I was filling up their hay wheels. She would just remain where ever she was when I showed up. If she was sleeping, she didn’t wake up. If she was at the far end of the pasture, she did not follow the others to the hay.

I get that it is summer and we do have more grass now that we do when it is winter, and maybe she just isn’t hungry, but it seemed way out of character for her, since she was always a pony to keep eating, even when she was no longer hungry.

All in all, I felt like she was losing her spark and I decided to try and cut back on her medication. I know. Half of the equestrian world, my vets included, are screaming at me that I am irresponsible and I should never do that, while the other half is cheering for removing her meds altogether.

Cutting her medication got her spirits back. She started eating again and the sparkle in her eyes returned, but sadly, so did her big belly.

I feel like I am always at a loss with my horses. No matter what I do, there is always something I should be doing differently, or better. I honestly don’t know how to help her the best. I talked to my vet, and she told me to not cut the meds. Then I looked at my pony, and I will take a big belly and a sparkle in her eyes, any day of the week, unless…

Unless it is killing her. Cushings is usually fatal, one way or another. What if I could keep her alive for the next ten years on full medication, while she might be dying slowly, on half? But then again, what if she was unhappy for those ten years, while she might live happily for five years? I wonder what she would choose, if I could ask her. And I wonder, as always, if I am imagining things. I wish sometimes that blind faith in my vets was something I could have. It must be so nice to just hand over the responsibility to someone else in situations like this. And I trust my vets, I do. As much as I possibly can.

I just trust my pony more, and she wasn’t happy.

Now, I get that some horses remain sleeping, even when I show up. Apocalipse learned that from his mother and he knows that I’ll feed him where he is, if he doesn’t get up.

He is not sick, that is just who he is. Food never mattered to him and he is always teaching me when to show up and when not too. Too early in the morning, and he is not getting up.

He has been playing with Tardis a lot lately. He is trying so hard to include her and she keeps rejecting him. I know it looks like he is mounting her in this picture, but he is not. He is herding her, and she is refusing, so he is lifting his front legs off the ground to protect himself, because she will kick him.

He is so careful with her, so attentive, and he never gives up. I adore the look on his face when he tries to play with her. It is very different from when he plays with his father…

Apocalipse was so made to walk on two legs. He is astounding.

Comparing his balance to Ablaze, who is trying to play with Saleem the same way. Needless to say, Saleem has a much better shot at handling Ablaze…

So, I guess that nothing much has changed on my pasture. Saleem is eating again, luckily, after he broke his tooth, and he is even gaining weight now. Ablaze and Apocalipse kinda runs the show, and they are even starting to like each other.

Does Ablaze have a big belly like his mom?

No, stop it, V. He is fine. Of course he is.

I haven’t mentioned Marble much lately. I honestly don’t know what to update on her. She still has issues with locking stifles and she is still pretty aggressive at times, but all in all, she is mellowing.

The funny part about Marble was that no matter how defensive she was, she was very trusting as well. I could always get near her when she was lying down, for instance, which is a huge vote of confidence from a horse. I guess that the reason I am not updating much on her, is that I am still trying to figure her out.

And of course, because she is dark, and my Samsung refuses to take none-blurry pictures of her. I am convinced that every time they make a software update, they do so to make your phone useless and force you to buy a new one. I mean, seriously, I can’t find the camera settings anymore. Anyone?

I started this post by saying that Ablaze was the one. That is not true. They all are, in their own unique ways. Imagine what I would worry about, if I didn’t have them?

What would make me smile? What would make me get out the door at 6 am, and get a sunrise shot like this?

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The Peace In My Soul

I believe it is time to do something I haven’t done in a while. Celebrate the birthdays of two of the most important persons in my life. Saleem and Poseidon.

It feels so wrong to write that,  because it was always Poseidon and Apollon, but for the purpose of this post, I’ll leave Apollon out of it.

Now, Poseidon would have turned 22 yesterday, if he had still been here.

And Saleem just turned 10, a few days ago.

It’s funny, when I started writing Surviving the Equestrian World, I was telling Poseidon’s story, and Apollon and the others joined in, as they played a huge part in his life. And in the end, I chose to use Saleem for the cover of the book, not Poseidon, even if Saleem’s story has all but just begun in the book.

I am not sure I quite understood why it felt so right to use Saleem as the cover horse, back then, but I think I get it now.

Poseidon and I struggled for 15 years. I jumped through hoops trying to make him happy, to make him feel safe. I defended him, I protected him like a mother bear, and whenever someone tried to tell me to get rid of that insane horse before he killed me, I cut them out of my life, rather than him.

I loved and adored and hero-worshiped that horse. I cried, I bled, I lay awake at night, wondering how to make him live. How to make him be happy and feel safe in this world.

The truth is, and this is what Surviving the Equestrian World is as well, I never accepted us. I never entirely accepted what we could and could not do. I kept pushing it.

Be it, that I kept having the Farrier trim his hooves, even after we had to give up on shoes, because he was simply too dangerous. I never took the step and just trimmed himself. Why?

I guess I was afraid. Afraid to do something wrong, and hurt him, yes, but afraid too, to have the responsibility for this horse, all rest on me. At least, as long as my Farrier kept coming by, and kept trimming him, Poseidon was not too unmanageable. A small part of us was still fitting into the equestrian world and as much as I told myself that it did not matter to me, it did.

 

The truth is, this horse walked through fire for me, every single day, and I… I kept asking him to do so.

Because I could not shake the feeling that I had failed as his human if I did not somehow make him measure up to what people expected. So, the vet could not touch him, so, most of my friends could not touch him, so I was always afraid when the boyfriend was alone with him, but I could touch him, and we got by, didn’t we? And the Farrier never quit on us. That was something, wasn’t it?

 

I always knew that he should not be ridden much, and after his mental break down, that competing was not in the cards for us. And it never quite stopped torturing me, how talented he was, how strong, how much he loved to jump… He could have been the best show jumper I had ever owned, if only his mind had allowed it. If only I had found a way to make him normal. And I knew I could not. And I knew, I should not. And most of the time, it did not matter as long as he was happy.

Seeing him with Amalia and new born Apocalipse, I knew that this was the happiest he had ever been. When Apocalipse was born, I finally stopped pushing him. I stopped expecting him to fit in, because I knew that taking care of Amalia and her foal, was tearing his body apart. As much as he found peace as their guardian, his old injuries were killing him, and I did nothing to stop it. I did not call the chiropractor for the 666th time, that summer. I did not insist on the Farrier keeping shoes on him. I let go. And I watched him slip away.

Even when Amalia blindsided me and died 4 months before he did, I knew I was losing him, I was just postponing the day. And when the day came, when I finally let him have peace, and he walked up to the fence and met the vet without flinching, letting her touch him for the first – and only- time, I had never been prouder of him.

In that horrible, beautiful moment, he was happy. He was safe. And we put him down because his body failed.

He will always be the other half of me, my heart, my soul, my star, my endless night.

And I was always terrified of how I would handle losing him. To my surprise, I think that most of all, I have been relieved that he is finally at peace. The peace I could not give him in life. I managed to give him 15 years of love and adoration, and I did everything I knew how, to make him happy, and I am sure he knew that, even though, for the most part, I think I failed.

Now, I  can’t fail him anymore.

I could, however, fail Saleem. And I did.

When Poseidon died, Apollon got sick and died as well, leaving me with having lost my two red boys, Amalia and Legacy within two years. All of them for different reasons, all of them to things in their bodies I could not fight, like heart failure, ringbone, fractures, and ruptured arteries.

Saleem was the horse left standing, on my pasture of foals. He was the eldest, all of a sudden, and the one that picked up all my ambitions after Apollon died and I no longer had a horse that could compete.

Saleem proved to be a huge challenge with his violent headshaking, and for a while, I did wonder if I was ever really going to ride this horse.

But, as we all know, I am me, and I was unable to not make him fit in. After Poseidon’s demons, and Apollon’s dangerous temper, a little stress-induced headshaking should be something I could handle, right?

The truth is, I can handle it. I can handle most things. I have a dangerous skill set.

As Saleem became my “main” horse, while the little ones were growing up, I took him competing, because that was what I always wanted to do, and he may not have been the biggest talent I ever worked with, but there was a glimmer of raw beauty inside him, and as his rider, I was hoping to make him shine.

And, he was so sweet, so kind, so patient, that no matter what I threw of him, he took it with a headshake and a deep breath and soldiered on.

We taught him to load and drive in a trailer, and we had him go to the beach, the European Championship for Arabians, and Natural Horsemanship Shows. He never complained.

And then there was the last show I did with him when I realized that I was done.

Just done. Done with the equestrian world and everything it entailed. Done with the world that forced me to wear a noseband and spurs on my beautiful little, sensitive horse.  Done with trying to be who everyone expected us to be, or to prove Saleem’s worth through how many ribbons he won.

And so, I did what 15 years with Poseidon had not made me do.

I started to change.

We quit the bridle, and everything that would make him headshake.

I know I had told myself with Poseidon that I did not care what people thought of us. I always joked about it and smiled when people referred to me as the girl with the crazy chestnuts. It was who I was, who I had to be, but not necessarily who I wanted to be, even if I never admitted it to myself.

I wanted to compete. Natural Horsemanship was a skill set I learned, a hat I put on, and a weapon I used to be special, just in a different way. I can train any horse, no matter how dangerous. Even if I can’t win ribbons, I can make your crazy horse less dangerous. How about that?

It’s funny how it is in human nature to want to prove yourself. To need to be good at something.

And it is tragic how I was never able to let that go with my crazy chestnuts.

Well, now I have, with my last chestnut.

It’s been a long process for both of us, but it just hit me the other day, as I was watching him eat, (looking for signs that his broken teeth might be a bother to him, like the crazy person I am,) that of all my horses, Saleem has been the one to teach me the most. The one to truly change who I am.

The one to make me find peace.

The one to teach me the most important lesson I think I will ever learn; as long as he comes to me, nothing else matters. As long as he wants my company, nothing else matters.

I should not want to impress anyone, except him. Between Saleem and me, no one else matters.

I know that when I started this blog, I was posting pictures of my horses all the time, and lately, I have kind of stopped that. Not so much because I am not taking pictures of them, but I guess I have little need to show them off anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I am amazingly proud of how Apocalipse has grown up, and I still love it when people tell me that they are beautiful, but I don’t care about the rest anymore.

Another important thing Saleem taught me is that some days it is just not “today.” And that is okay too. Some days, he is up for everything, and some days, nothing works.

All horses has “off days,” and usually I would have kept pushing it, because that is what you are taught in the equestrian world. The horse must perform. What if it has a “lazy day” when you are at a show? Oh no. Keep asking until you get an answer you can accept. That has always been my mantra.

Keep asking until you get an answer you can accept.

The truth is, what you “can accept,” is all up to you.

With Saleem, I have learned that when he says “no,” that is the answer I should accept, because I can tell him “yes” and he will say “okay” but he will be stressed and as much as he will do his best for me- like Poseidon always did- he will not be happy about it.

So yes, some days your horse tells you no, and that is perfectly okay. If I look at Saleem and ask myself, do I want him to canter for me today, or do I want him to be happy, the answer is pretty easy.

I guess that Poseidon never managed to ask me that question in a way I could understand. Saleem did. And for that, I owe him the peace in my own soul.

Happy birthday, Poseidon. I hope you are grazing somewhere by the Rainbow Bridge, looking down on me, and I hope that you are finally proud of me.

Happy birthday, Saleem. Thank you for helping me grow up and let go. You did what no one else could. You made me change to fit your needs.

Now I know why you were my cover horse. You were the future I had not seen yet, when I wrote the book. You were the answer to the questions, I did not know how to ask yet.

Thank you.

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Settling In

I haven’t written much lately, not on my books and not on my blog. I am having a hard time finding a rhythm where I actually get to sit down and write. In the three months before we moved, I kept telling myself that once we got to the new place, things would be different, so no need to stress over it. And when we got here, a month and a half ago, there was a thousand things that needed to be done.

Like unpack all our stuff, (the boyfriend used to own a book/miniature/game store and has a lot of things from when it closed,) tend the garden that was growing wild, make sure the cats settled in and didn’t run off.

Once we let Chad out, the first thing he did was jump our fence and disappear for two days, leaving me running around the neighborhood at all hours of the day (and night,) calling for him, imagining that he was trying to run back to the old place and got hit by a car and was lying in the road side, bleeding and dying alone.

Or that he found a new home, and someone took him in, and didn’t know that he was sick and needed special food, and that he would die horribly that way. Or, what if he got delivered to an animal shelter? He is not what you would call tame, they would put him down, wouldn’t they? He may be a stupid special needs child, but he is MINE, and when I don’t know where he is, my mind never stops torturing me with all the worst case scenarios it can come up with.

Luckily, he came home two days later, acting like nothing had happened.

Then they started fighting with the local cats, leaving me getting up a thousand times every night, to chase “strange” cats out of our garden, because they were beating on the little one. She has been very brave about it all, but I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want Chad to get scared and run off again, and when I hear fighting, I wake up instantly. Here they are, having each other’s back.

It’s a dangerous business, going out your door, Frodo…

All in all, Chad used to be a stressed out cat, who would just as well pee in the bed as sleep in it, and I have to admit, as much as I love him,I have been near my breaking point with him, a lot of times. Moving here has been amazing though. Once the dust settled and he decided to want to live here, he has been happy. Just happy. No peeing anywhere, and he even lets us pet him now, and he plays with Shy, instead of attacking her. And sleeps in the garden like it is the safest place in the world. I guess that is worth me not sleeping for weeks…

Now, it’s not just because of the cats, that I haven’t been writing. I have, of course, had to claim the local Pokemon Gyms (pokemon go,) for Team Instinct, which has been a bit of a battle since Team Mystic has been holding this area since the game started. That church is mine, MINE, I tell ya…

I honestly can’t wait for the gym battle system to be changed. I am getting really tired of the game as it is, so I am really looking forward to the update. That said, once the first couple of weeks were over, Team Mystic surrendered like the cowards they are, (hehe,) and the only ones who has been fighting me out here is an elderly married couple. Tip of the hat to them, the game gets even more boring without adversaries.

Hunting pokemon with my friends is still a nice way to spend an evening, but it is only fun when something cool spawns. Like a ponyta…

The horses take up a lot of my time, of course, even if I still don’t ride them.

(Apologies for the horrible picture quality in this post, I’ve copied them off Instagram, because my phone still won’t talk to my computer…)

And with spring comes awesome chores like cutting the grass and nettles underneath the fence, preferably on the hottest day of the year so far…

They are doing good though, all of them. Of course, Saleem breaking another tooth (he fractured his jaw as a colt, and that has left damage to the foundation on his teeth,) has had me worried a lot, and with him losing a lot of weight, I have been staring at him for hours, wondering if he was chewing properly. I even asked my vet if it was unfair of me to have him around, but she looked so surprised that I would even think that way, that I take it, he is not suffering. He is gaining weight again now, so… Chill, Veronica.

He is okay. Still Saleem. Still my headshaker. Still perfect. ❤

I work out a lot, and only play a little Pokemon during yoga class…

No, to be fair, great pokemons usually spawn at my gym, so I must check when I’m there. But yes, in addition to Zumba and Bodyfit and all the other stuff I am attending, I am picking up yoga again, trying to get a little calm in my head for a change.

But I mean, seriously…

Gotta catch them all, right? I think that by now, most of the instructors know that I am playing Pokemon, one of them even plays himself and calls me “Team Instinct” whenever he sees me. I may have accidentally worn one of my Instinct tank tops at his class once… I didn’t think anyone would know it was a pokemon thing. Oh well… I was always a nerd, with everything I do, be it fantasy, horses, work out, or gaming. Working out and catching pokemon at the same time, is just who I am… Luckily, only some of the instructors gives me penalties for catching pokemon in their classes 😛

I guess that what I am trying to say is that between life, and everything I want to make time for every day, and everything I have to make time for, like taking the scooter to the shop, and washing dishes, and mowing the lawn, writing is taking a back seat.

Also, you gotta make time for hanging with your cat…

And hanging swords on the wall… Perks of living with the left overs of the boyfriends shop… The Sword of the Witch King…

And Arwen’s sword…

I know… I am a master of coming up with stupid things to do, rather than what I should be doing. Like taking dumb pictures…

One of the great things, for me, about moving here, is that we finally got a living room. (And I got my own room, instead of having to write in the bed room. Wup Wup.)

But now, my books are in our living room, right next to the rest of the boyfriend’s shop, (he has got tons of Dragon Lance- score!) and my other geek books. It is kinda weird to see them like that. I used to have them on a dark shelve above my bed. Now they are out in the open, in my own house… Imagine that. Somehow, I’m not sure my books do well in daylight, but so far, they are holding up 😉

No, really, I have my own work space for the first time in years now. A room that is just mine, covered with My little Pony, my guitars, and my gym clothes and my camera. Everything that is just me is in here, and the garden looks amazing right outside the window.

I should have every possibility to wright, right?

Only, most of the time, I feel like the one thing in my life that is getting neglected, is the boyfriend. So whenever I am not chasing Pokemon, or cutting nettles under my fence, or staring at Saleem, or dancing Zumba, (while falling over my feet,) or looking for a missing cat, I am having a hard time going to my perfect room and turning on the computer to write, because then I won’t get to spend time with the boyfriend at all.

I know that he is okay with it, but that doesn’t change how I feel. Like I should do better. Do more. Be less like butter, scraped over too much bread… (Enough, V. Don’t quote Bilbo now… Sorry 😛 )

The boyfriend was away this week, working some night shifts, and I instantly bought a bottle of wine and some vegan chocolate and turned on my computer.

It felt amazing to sit down and just write again. That is truly who I am. I may play guitar, but I am not a musician. I may know how to work a camera, be it an Eos or a Red Scarlet, but  I am not a photographer or a movie maker, not by heart. I may know how to ride or train any horse, and as much as Natural Horsemanship has been a hat I have put on for most of my life, that is not who I am either.

I am a writer. I am a story teller. This is where I find me.

Now, I am not blaming the boyfriend for not writing. I will admit that  I have been having a hard time with finishing the Legacy Series. I am writing on the last book in the series and I really don’t want to wrap it up. I kinda know what needs to happen, who needs to die, and who needs to be left standing, that sort of thing, but I don’t want to do it. So I have been stalling a lot.

Which is why, when the boyfriend was away, I realized that I was not done stalling. So, I sat down to start a new book, postponing the end of the Legacy.

This book has no name yet, but it is one that has been requested by quite a few of my readers, actually. I have been playing with the idea for a while now, and so here I am, finally letting Cazinor have his own book, from the time before The Starstone Series. For some reason, people seem to love Cazinor, and I will say, I am pretty proud of that. He was meant to be loved. He was meant to be this insanely cruel guy, who people forgive his sins, and just adore. As a writer, having people ask me to write more about him, is a total win. So here I am, letting him unfold in his own book, not as a sidekick in someone else’s story. And yes, I love him too. But then again, I love all my characters.

I will end this (long, sorry,) post by the best picture I have taken in a long time. I know it is blurry and you can’t really see anything, but somehow, that is perfect to me. I took it, while being home alone, hanging pictures of Poseidon, Legacy, Amalia, Apollon, Life… All my babies who are no longer with us, and feeling like I was looking at someone else’s life. Like this girl I was with them, was no longer me. Not really.

And still, I would give anything to have them back, each and every one of them. So cheers guys. I love you all. And even if you never got to move here with me… You did. You really did.

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Supernatural Season 12

*Spoilers, if anyone still care*

I refrained from writing about Supernatural season 11, because I was hoping that somehow season 12 could get the show back on track. The season finale did not leave me optimistic though, but I held my breath and kept my fingers crossed. I mean, of all the things the Darkness could have left Dean… his mother? Are you kidding me? Do we want to watch an entire season of Dean, being a snot-nosed 30+ year old, whining to his mom about everything that is wrong in his life?

I really hoped season 12 would not be that bad, but well… It was worse. First of all, it felt forced to have Mary on the show. Mostly it felt like someone wanted the actress playing Mary, to finally get some screen time. And, I guess, they wanted to finally create a cool female character, trying to get rid of sexist the show is. Sadly, no one on SPN knows what a cool female character is, except for whomever got to create Charlie and Rowena and to some extend, Ruby.

Mary turned into a role that could have easily been played by a man, and that is not a cool female, that is the writers not understanding what makes a woman strong and independent. Being able to shoot someone in the face at point blank range does not make you cool. It really doesn’t.

So, yes, I hated Mary and the idea that she had to be part of the show for season 12. I was terrified that she would destroy Dean, and lo and behold, she did. They even had a scene where she TOLD him that he was not a kid and that she was not supposed to look after him. And Dean had a scene where he accepted that and told her that she was right, she did not have to read him bedtime stories, it was time he grew up.

Every inch of my soul was cringing. This is the guy who died for his brother, who suffered through 40 years of torture in hell, this is the guy who stopped (and started) the Apocalypse, and helped put Lucifer back in the cage. Hell, this is the guy who was killed, turned into a demon by the mark of Cain, and who set God’s sister lose on the world. He had to have a scene where he told his mom that it was okay that she did not read him bedtime stories?

Okay. Right. Moving on.

For a moment, during season 12, I was afraid that they would let the British Men of Letters take over the American hunters and simply end all ghost and monster activity in the US, leaving everyone happy and Sam and Dean to live a normal life. That would have been a horrible end to the show, and I am so glad that it did not go that way.

Other than that, I have very little to say about the British Men of Letters. Mick was a kind of okay character, you even managed to like him at the end, before he was killed. Ketch was never a character anyone liked and again, having Mary sleep with him did not make her cool or dangerous. Just stupid. If ever we tried to like her, we stopped right then and there.

I will say, that in the first episode of the two part episode that made the season finale for season 12, where Sam leads the rest of the hunters to kill the Men of Letters, I lost what ever love I had left for the show. Doubled with Deans “I love you but I hate you” speech to his mom, I felt like I was watching a train wreck and it was not even happening in slow motion. Someone did this on purpose. Someone wrote this and thought, “Oh the fans are gonna love it.”

Someone who clearly has not seen the first 10 seasons of this show. Someone who does not know Sam and Dean at all.

First off, Sam leads the hunters to kill humans. Let me repeat that. SAM leads the hunters to KILL HUMANS. Not monsters. Not people possessed by demons, which he would usually try and save, no, humans. Just humans. What happened to Sam? Because this episode had some guy who looked like him, run around shooting people, and that is NOT the Sam I have loved for 11 seasons.

What’s the line again… Saving people, hunting things…

Now we are just killing people? Great.

No matter how cruel the men of letters were, they were PEOPLE. Sam and Dean, especially Sam, always drew the line at killing people.

And, Dean let Sam go on his own, accompanied by two hunters who had shot them before. The Dean I knew, and loved, would NEVER let Sam go into danger alone. Period. Why now? To try and save his mom? Let’s be honest, Dean never loved anyone more than he loves Sam. Why would he choose Mary now?

Then we have Dean, whining to his mom, about how he had to raise Sam, how she let it all happen, how it was’t fair that he had to be Sam’s father and his mother and buhu…

What I used to love about Dean was that the one thing he NEVER complained about, was Sam. He loved him unconditionally, and his job in life, was keeping him safe. He never used to bitch about that. He could never imagine a world where Sam was not his entire world, and here he is, telling his mother that he hates her for doing this to him.

Wow. Seriously, I get that the new script writers and show runners have not bothered to sit down on their asses and watch the show from start to end, but someone, somewhere in the producers office should have stopped this. This is beyond bad script writing. This is a producer who doesn’t care anymore and who thinks that as long as Dean cries, so does the fans.

Well, all due respect, that is just lazy. And we are not buying it, and no one shed a single tear over this years finale. Just FYI.

Okay, some of the teenagers who actually thought you were writing Misha off, did, but come on.

Which brings me to the last episode of the finale. Let’s start with Kelly. She is carrying Lucifer’s child, she is told that she will die from giving birth to it, and that it will destroy the world once it is born. She is also told that maybe they can drain it’s grace and turn it into a normal human child, possibly saving her life, and the world.

Great. Problem solved. She did not want an abortion, but now she gets to live and raise her kid. Amazing. Right?

Wrong. She won’t let them turn the kid human, she would rather die from him, than have the chance to raise him. And she says she loves him.

I don’t know. If I was given the chance to live WITH my child, rather than die from it, I would always choose to live, especially if said kid might kill the world if left with its powers.

What I am saying is that clearly they needed Lucifer’s kid born with his powers, and that is okay, but the second they brought up the option of removing his grace, Kelly’s character stopped working for me. She had every option, and she chose death. Why give her the option? It just felt like a waste of screen time, since it led no where, except to ruin her character.

Then we have Cas. Here is where I would like to point out that I LOVE Misha. Castiel, not so much. I mean, he used to be awesome, he came into the show covered in sparks and shadow, as an angel, raising Dean from hell, believing in his God and in heaven. He was fierce, he was righteous, he was dangerous. He wore the trench coat the same way he wore his vessel. As something he did not consider, because it did not matter to him.

These days, he has been human, he knows that wearing the trench coat all the time is not necessary. It has become a costume, and to be honest, it looks like one, since they even shortened it to, I’m guessing, make it easier for Misha to move in it. Every time he shows up in that trench-coat, it kills the suspension of disbelieve. He is just an actor in a costume, playing the ghost of someone who used to be a great character.

And half of this season was spent by Dean, calling him, and Cas not answering. I remember a time when Dean would prey to him, and he would show up. “I always come when you call,” did not mean by cell phone. But now, they have this angel on the show, they have no need for and who they really don’t know what to do about. He is an easy fix to most of Sam and Deans problems. If he just showed up when Dean called, he could take care of most of the monsters they hunt. I mean, he is an angel after all.

Truth be told, having him on the show is a huge problem, and creates weird scenes where the script writers have to jump through hoops trying to find out why Cas does not show up when Sam and Dean needs him.

The other half of this season is spent by Cas being utterly impotent. He cannot find a pregnant human woman, so he is off looking for her, all the while half of heaven, Lucifer and a knight of hell, easily knows where she is. Great.

And when Cas is in any fight scene, he just gets his ass kicked. Even by humans. Amazing. What the fuck…

I am not saying, “write Cas out,” because I am like every one else, I adore Misha and I would hate to lose him from the show. But I am saying, make him cool again. Please. Handle him. Give him a reason to be on the show. Other than the fans adoring the actor. Because as much as it pains me to say it, that is just not good enough.

Then we have Crowley and Rowena.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Did they write Rowena out without even bringing Ruth on set? No death scene for THE single most important female character on the show? Come on. That is so undignified, so sexist, so shameful, I can’t even…

I am not saying, don’t write her out, but at least give her a death scene. Give her a worthy end. Even Abadon got a death scene. Lilith got a death scene. Sam and Dean has had a thousand death scenes. Let her go with an emoticon of grace. You guys owe her that much.

You guys owe the female fans that much. Even Eileen got a death scene. And don’t get me started on killing her… Of all the stupid decisions…

And Crowley. I don’t know what happened between Mark and the producers of the show, but I do know that I have loved Crowley since he came on the show and even if I, from time to time, felt that he had over stayed his welcome I did not want him to leave. Supernatural would just not be the same without this amazing king of hell who was so in love with Dean. I loved that dynamic, I loved how he was always his own character and how every time he did not show up to help Sam and Dean out, (like Cas,) he actually had a reason, be it sometimes simply, because he was just the king of hell and had better things to do.

I get that they wanted him off the show, for reasons unknown. And he actually got a two seconds death scene. And I mean, two seconds.

For a character as big as Crowley, the way they handled that, was almost as undignified as the way they wrote Rowena out. No, I take that back. They were not written out, they were killed off. There is a difference.

Crowley got to give his life for the boys, in the same scene (practically) where they made a tribute to Jim Beaver, bringing Bobby back on the show. Now, any other way, I would have thought it was cool that Jim got to be in season 12 as well, since he had not missed a season before, but like this, bringing him back and writing out another huge cast member, that felt disrespectful.

Ad to that, the second Crowley dies, we get two seconds to think, “wait a second, did he really die here?” and then Cas is killed, completely stealing any emotion we ever had about Crowley dying.

I mean, it’s Cas. Dean is left by his side. We all know that Cas is going to come back, as they are not writing Misha out, but killing him like that is completely ruining Crowley’s death scene.

You know what, I wanted Dean to mourn Crowley. Hell, I even wanted Sam to look a little sad that he was gone. I wanted a second to breathe, to say goodbye to a huge character who I had loved dearly. No matter if someone in the production scene and Mark had a falling out, no matter what happened, Crowley deserved better, and so did the fans. I wanted to be allowed to be sad for him.

Killing Cas was not only unfair, but down right stupid. It instantly made you numb as a viewer. Brought you right back to a world without consequences.  “Oh, he is dead. No worries. He’ll be back. Who cares.”

Killing Crowley could have ended this season in tears, instead it managed to end it with the viewers feeling even more uncaring and un-invested than we did at the end of season 11.

So yeah. I have loved Supernatural. I have loved Sam and Dean. I have loved Castiel and Crowley. I have loved Charlie, Donna, Jody, Bobby, Rufus, everyone.

Except Lucifer. He always felt forced, and now he is going to take Crowley’s place on the show? I cannot sit through an entire season with Lucifer as a main character. I just can’t. This is the end of the line for me.

I cannot find it in me to watch this show anymore. I simply care too much for the characters who are getting ruined now. I felt relieved when season 12 ended and there was a whole summer until the next episode. That is just sad.

I adore this fandom, I love doing Gishwhes, and I am not leaving the show. But I am leaving the last seasons. God, I hope season 13 will be the end. But I guess I won’t know, because I can’t stand to watch it.

Except… If Destiel goes canon, let me know. I’ll tune in for that. Other than that, I guess I’m done, at long last. Just done. Like Dean used to say, before he became a sobbing man-child.

Done.

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Helping Hands

Hello. I’m still alive.

So, we moved. It was almost two weeks ago, and I managed to be instantly sick right after we moved, starting out at the new place with lying in bed for two weeks. Wuhu.

Once I was getting better, I decided to start working out again, since looking at boxes and all the boyfriend’s things was kind of driving me insane. So I made my escape one morning, as one of my favorite instructors had a latin inspired dance course.

I got up early, and planned for taking care of the horses on my way home from the gym. With the move, I can no longer just walk across the road to the gym, I actually have to start the scooter and drive for it, and I have been kinda worried that I would quit working out now that I had to drive for 20 minutes to get there, so I figured that if I could somehow make it fit with the stable chores, I’d have an easier time getting the scooter out of the garage.

I know this may sound obsessive, but working out has made a great difference in my life since I started almost a year ago. Not only do I fit into the pants again, I had out grown, but I am much stronger and find it way easier to trim the horses hooves for instance. And, it makes me happy, which is something worth fighting for, so yes. I am really hoping that I’ll stick with it, even with the move.

It turned out to be kind of a weird day. I packed my stable boots, and my stable jacket, since I couldn’t wear that to the gym, I had to remember to bring it, so I could feed the horses on my way home. It was a pretty cold morning and I was perhaps not all that well yet, feeling like my head was a bit of a cotton ball after two weeks in bed.

But I got on the scooter, bringing all my horsey clothes, and my gym clothes, thinking that this could work. I parked the scooter at the gym and instantly reached for my phone, since this was my old neighborhood and I had to check what my old team mates from Pokemon Go was up to with the pokegyms in the area. We had a rather serious falling out just before I left, and I was pretty sure that with me, attacking the blue gyms in my new neighborhood, (I wasn’t too sick for that,) the blue team had retaliated and started gunning for my old team, and I was kinda looking forward to seeing how much ground they had lost.

Yes, I know. But this place was mine. I had been defending it since the game was released and now, team instinct owns it, only since I refuse to cheat and play the game like they do, I played myself out of the area. So it felt kind of nice, watching them get their asses kicked.

Only, as I reached for my phone this morning, I felt my blood run cold. It was not there. I double checked my pockets, on both my gym jacket and my horsey jacket and no. Nothing. None of my phones, or my card holder.

Slowly the realization hit me. I did not bring them. Even worse, I left them outside my front door. As I left the house, I had them in my hand, and once I had to unlock the scooter, I put them on the mail box, because my horsey jacket was in the garage and it was the one with the pockets. Long story, that made perfect sense at the time, with the only down side being me, having left my two phones, and my cards, including my credit cart, and my drivers licence, sitting outside the house.

It also included my key card for the gym, and since it was a morning course, the reception was not open yet, so there was no one to let me in. All in all, I found myself standing in front of a locked door, on a cold morning, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to rain on my poor phones, back home on the mail box.

Luckily, one of the elder ladies who usually dances with us arrived and even though she could get in a lot of trouble for letting me in, she did so without hesitation. Smuggled me through, not just the front door but the inside security system as well. Yes, the gym is kinda well defended. And she could get a huge fine if she was discovered smuggling someone in.

Once inside, I had signed up for the dance class, and the system wants you to register that you have arrived, by scanning your key card, proving that you were in fact taking part in the class you signed up for, making sure that you weren’t taking up the sloth without using it.

Two hours before the classes start, you can’t resign your spot, so there I was, inside, but unable to tell the system that I had arrived.

As luck would have it, the instructor knows me and once I told her that I forgot my card, she logged onto the system and “arrived” me. No questions asked. I got to say, so far I was pretty amazed by both her and the lady who let me in. On a dark Tuesday morning, they were more than ready for helping out the nearest moron who left her card on the mailbox at home….

And, I had another favor to ask. Having changed, I snuck onto our “coffee and gossip” corner, which is a place I don’t come a lot, and found two others there, that I usually dance with. I don’t know their names, but I know their faces, from having seen them at class regularly.

When I told them that I left my phone outside my house, and asked if I could borrow one of theirs to call my boyfriend, they instantly offered. And when I could not remember his phone number, (seriously, who knows phone numbers these days?) they helped me google him and find it.

As much as leaving the house without my things was potentially a disaster, I have to say, it was one of the most amazing experiences I have had in a long time. Three different people, two of whom I don’t even know by name, instantly bent over backwards to help me out, no hesitation and not a second thought to how it may affect them.

If that is not the kind of days that restores your faith in humanity, then I don’t know what will. And it assured me that sticking with this gym and these people was worth the drive. If they can make such an effort for someone they don’t even know, then I can get the scooter out of the garage, even when it rains, and go dance with them. Their kindness was all the motivation I needed. I am sure it didn’t feel like much for them, but to me, every single one of them was a life saver.

And, I made it back home without running into the police, which was pretty awesome, since, you know, my license was at home as well.

All in all, I learned my lesson. No putting my phone down on the mail box, even for a second, ever. I was just lucky the boyfriend was home, so I could call him and make him get the phone in from the rain, once we were done googling him.

And I was really, really lucky that most people are actually very sweet and helpful, once you engage them. I guess that is a lesson I need to learn a few times before I dare trust it, but it sure was an amazing day.

Once I came home, and told the boyfriend, he tried to comfort me and said that it was alright, nothing happened, you know, don’t worry about it. And I told him he was wrong. It was not a bad day at all. It was, in fact, one of the very best. And something did happen. I came home smiling. How amazing was that?

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Time Out

It’s been a while since I’ve written about anything serious on this blog. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gishwhes is super serious, and I am still devastated that HIM is breaking up, but… Well.

First of all, I am really happy that Team Dandelions filled up so quickly. I never imagined having an entire Gishwhes team together in a matter of days. And by the looks of it, it is going to be an awesome year. Loads of creative and kind people on our team and I am so looking forward to gishing with them.

That said, I’ve been pretty quiet about my life lately, compared to what I would usually share on this blog. The truth is, I’ve been going through some personal issues, and I have no idea how to really talk to anyone about it.

Which led me to my doctors office, one day, unable to speak, because I could not stop crying. The poor guy took me in without an appointment and referred me to a psychiatrist.

What you need to understand about me, is that mental illness is not a thing in my family. If it is not physical, it is not real. You do not ask for help, unless it hurts somewhere, real, like an arm or a leg. Falling apart is simply not a possibility in my family.

So for me to actually ask for help, sorta, was something I thought I would never, ever do. And I haven’t really told anyone about it, because I doubt that anyone would be supportive.  (The boyfriend excepted, but I don’t want to burden him with me being unable to handle my life, so… I get how unfair that is, I just can’t stop thinking like that.)

Long story short, seeing the psychiatrist went exactly as I had thought it would. She talked, I answered, and she had no idea what to do with me. I am not the kind of person who talks to strangers about myself, and I have no need to turn my childhood or anything else upside down in therapy sessions. I was there out of desperation, because I didn’t know what else to do, but that didn’t mean that I had any real need to talk to her.

She did end up giving me some kind of a diagnosis though, before she discontinued our sessions, not believing that she could help me, or that I could in anyway, change who I am. She believes that I am schizoid.

Naturally, I googled that, and even if I don’t find myself to be a perfect match, there sure is some points where I fit the description. Mostly, what stuck with me, was how being schizoid, is not schizophrenia. I don’t hear voices, I don’t believe that I am more than one person, stuff like that. No, I create fantasy worlds and live in them, and to me, they are more real than anything standing right in front of me.

Imagine that. I thought that was just me, you know, having and active imagination and it turns out, it’s a personalty disorder. Makes you wonder about a lot of authors, don’t it…

The psychiatrist believed too that the reason for my sadness is not depression, or anxiety, or anything remotely treatable. It is simply who I am, and something I will have to deal with. Mostly, it is triggered when I am forced to interact with the real world, and to be someone I am not. Like, normal. Doing the laundry, shopping, smiling when someone calls me “dear,” even though that always makes me want to stab people in the face. I despise it when people talk down to me, and most men do. Anyone who knows me, knows that you don’t say anything to me that you would not say to a man. Don’t call me “sweetheart,” don’t comment on my looks, don’t call me “pretty,” unless you are the kind of person who would call a man that too. I will hate you with a vengeance, behind my smile. And I will probably cry about it later, when I am alone.

Okay, staying on track here. Basically this diagnosis is giving me a reason for why I don’t play well with others. I realize that it is not just a blessing. I realize that it will be very easy for me to slip into my fantasy world completely, and avoid all human contact, now that I have a reason to. I am not normal. I can’t help it and I can’t change.

I realize too, that even if the psychiatrist told me that it was perfectly okay to be me, and that I have every right to be who I am, without feeling that I need to change, I don’t think I should just cut all ties to the real world. The thing that always scared me the most was me, being allowed to be… Just me.

As much as I love to be alone, to go for long walks with my pokedex, (pokemon go,) to hang with my horses, alone on our pasture, or to write on my books, I am terrified of the day when I don’t have a reason to talk to anyone anymore.

Which is why I do things like Gishwhes, and even took the job as team captain this year. I can be real, once in a while. I can deal with people, once in a while. I can be a part of this world, in my own small way.

Also, I still work out everyday, and I know it is becoming an obsession with me, like most things does. Having been raised to believe that I was sick, when I cried every morning when I had to leave for school, working out is in some strange way me, reclaiming my life at long last. I am not physically ill, despite the many diagnosis my mother made sure I got, to explain why she could not get me out the door. Part of me always knew that I wasn’t sick. I have worked with horses all my life, I have been the daily leader of stables since I was 13, unofficially, and sorta unpaid, but still. That is the kind of job that would wear down most people and someone diagnosed with ME (chronic fatigue syndrome,) asthma, and fibromyalgia should not be able to do any of it. But that was what the doctors told my mom, and that was what she told me and the school, when I could not breathe, crying my heart out, because I had to go to school. That is why I was allowed to stop going to school when I was 12 and never came back.

It is kind of empowering, to be working out now. To prove to myself once and for all, that they were all wrong. Maybe I should have realized it sooner, but I have to say, it is very hard to break free of how you were raised. Especially when you don’t have any other explanations for why you are just unable to put on your jacket and go to school like normal kids.

Well, I guess I do now. This is just who I am. Great.

In a way, working out, is making me interact with people too, since all the trainers at my gym knows my name by now and – hold on- talk to me when I show up. They are really awesome, all of them, and even if I wish they would not know me, and not force me to smile and answer them when they say hello, or ask if I’ve caught any good pokemon lately, (one of them plays as well, only he is team mystic… Tsk tsk…) I guess it is the kind of interaction that is good for me. Keeping me a little in the real world, not letting me slip entirely into my own fantasy world.

So, to sum up this long post, I guess that what I am trying to say is this; I am still here. For all of you who have worried that this blog has been quiet and that I have stopped answering my phone, I am sorry. I am trying very hard to deal with me at the moment, figuring out who I am and how to handle me.

I still have a long way to go, and the boyfriend and I are moving in a week, so my entire life is in boxes, and our economy is in ruins. Really, I like my fantasy world waaaaaay better than the real world. Just saying.

The horses are doing good though. Nothing much to update on there. Saleem broke another tooth, most likely because when he broke his mandible as a colt, the foundation for his teeth were damaged, so the vet was by again. Tardis is still improving on her cushings medication, although the edema under her belly doesn’t seem to be disappearing. Marble is lame again, as always when spring comes and she starts growing again. She is driving me insane, always growing into too tight tendons. But she is happy and does not require pain killers this year, so I guess I should not complain. Apocalipse and Ablaze are what keeps me sane (ish) these days. They are my two little angels.

I don’t have a lot to write about them anymore though, since no longer riding them has removed a lot of the stress I always felt around my horses. I no longer feel that they need to learn something, or that I need to do better, or that we need to compete and show the world that we are awesome. Seeing Apocalipse and Saleem play on the pasture is all I want these days. I honestly don’t miss riding at all. Who knows, maybe some day, I’ll go there again, but for now, I need a time out to get myself in order, and I have no business training them, asking them for something I may not be able to give myself. Luckily, they are happy, not working, and that is all I really want. For them to be happy.

As long as they are happy, there is one thing I am doing right. I guess that is a start.

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