So I’m writing a book about a unicorn, some humans, and zombies. Anyone who has a problem with this can suck it, because unicorns are equally unbelievable as zombies, and zombies are pretty unbelievable. So why not combine the two mythologies? No reason not to, my friends. Also, because they say ‘write what you know’, one of my main characters is bipolar. Right now she’s not doing so hot. And it stresses me out because I’ve been there before. She has a long weary road ahead of her…unless I kill her off, which could totally happen. No one is safe in the apocalypse. No one. 

So I’ve been looking up Greek and roman mythology, and unicorn lore, and zombie culture. Zombies are, as they say, so hot right now. They have movies and tv shows and so many many terrible books. Hell, I’ve got Plants Vs. Zombies, the video game, on my iPad right now. (Not to brag or anything). I think zombies are so very popular because my generation is beginning to see that our lifestyle, our very culture, is not sustainable the way it’s going. We’re the generation that craves a purging of the unwashed masses, so we can pickle our own veggies, live on a farm in the middle of nowhere, and yet inexplicably have access to Facebook. The ugly truth is that if there was a zombie apocalypse, you, me, and your favorite people ever probably wouldn’t be on the non-groaning side. I would be dead as a doorknob within 12 hours….for gods sake I work at a closed-door facility filled with chemically-dependent and not altogether healthy people. I doubt we’d be the few to survive. Not to mention the fact that my machete is at home, packed and stored in the garage, and hasn’t been sharpened in ages. I am NOT prepared. 

Anyway….the research is going well, and I get to ask people questions on Reddit such as ‘how long can you live with untreated blood poisoning?’ And ‘how does it feel to get stitches without painkillers’ and freak out the general viewer. I’ve gotten a lot of helpful answers, to be honest. 

Well, almost time to go home. Good morning, loyal reader. 

  my name is Jady, and I’m not an addict. 

This is unusual because most people who work in rehab are former addicts themselves. I’m not. Although I quit smoking something because it’s illegal here. I work in rehab because I have a mental disorder that often mimics addiction. I consider addiction a form of insanity, and I most certainly know what it feels like to be crazy. Been there, talked to the TV. 

Well as I’m sure I’ve texted you, loyal reader, the Husband is home. He had all the fun and got all the stickers, and now he’s back in reality. I’m very happy to have my partner and lover back in the default world, and hope to go with him next time. I do have a free ticket for next year, after all. I earned it last year, deferred it for a year, and by the time next burning man rolls around, I’ll have the PTO to use it. 

Tomorrow I am getting captive bead earrings, because I’m sick of stabbing myself in the head with my regular earrings. Also a pedi/mani, because my nails be alllllll tore up. I am getting these done as inexpensively as possible, but they need to happen for me to feel like a pretty girl. And as we have discussed before, self confidence is important. Maybe I’ll hold off on the pedicure. But the fingernails need a touch up. Have I mentioned that more money would be nice? Whatever, it’s boots weather anyway. 

Well, I have Archer to watch and a husband to harass with kisses. Goodnight, loyal reader. 

   lovely evening to be awake at 4am, isn’t it?
Usually, if I’m awake this late, it’s because my brain is being an asshole and telling me I’m going to ruin the world by being a loser. Bully Brain has actually been rather quiet as of late, but just to give you an example of how It talks to me, I made these handy memes:

    

Aren’t they terrible? Isn’t my brain an ass? When I read them over, they make me immeasurably amused, because they’re just so ridiculous. I have always been neurotic, but it’s only since I was successfully diagnosed (it took a few tries) bipolar, that I realized: not everybody beats themself up as often or throughly as I do. It’s not something that just has to happen. It can be curbed. 

So I try to raise my self confidence with simple things. Take compliments to heart. Dress pretty even when I don’t have to. Do projects that give me a sense of accomplishment. Pretend to be confident (this one works especially well in social situations). Maintain my hygiene, *mentally and physically.  Surrounding myself with good people. Have a goddamn sense of humor. 

It works, mostly, although there are some days when my defenses break down and I’m an anxious wreck; curled up on the couch thinking the dogs don’t love me anymore or some such thing. Bully Brain has a field day and the anti-anxiety meds are on the menu. They work….mostly. Frankly, I’ve had better anti-anxiety meds, but they’re not available in Utah. Yet. 

In any case, my brain is being good to me lately, and I don’t want to jinx it. So I will just say that wherever Bully Brain is, I hope it’s pleasant enough to warrant an extended vacation. Don’t rush home, BB. 

Speaking of rushing home, the Husband gets back either tonight or tomorrow. I’m crazy excited to see his tall, tattooed self. He’s been sweet and loving in text messages, but I’m somewhat sick of typing our relationship. His mistress, Burning Man, has had him long enough. He’s my man, bitch. Back off til next year. 

Good morning and happy Labor Day, loyal reader. Have a lovely holiday!
*by mental hygiene I mean the stuff I put into my brain, whether it be media, conversation, or stimuli of any sort. I try to avoid crap. 

  
This is a picture of the first day I got my first dog, Cormac (and by first I mean the first I owned on my own). Wow, I just used ‘first’ four times in a sentence. Good writing skills, Jady. 

Cormac is quite possibly the world’s most perfect dog. He is sweet and gentle, and protective and playful with his little sister Moro (not pictured because she won’t sit still), and has been taking these 14 hour stints of mommy-away-from-home in stride. I love Cormac the way you love your first-born son. Yeah, YOU. In fact to prove how much I love him, here’s a picture of him being throughly embarrassed to go volunteering at RPSC with me:

   
And, fooled you, I DO have a baby picture of Moro. Her father will probably make me crop this photo to hide his face, but he’s at Burning Man right now so he can’t stop me, can he?

 
Isn’t she a gem? She’s destroyed two pairs of good shoes this week, so let’s all be extra nice to her and celebrate her accomplishment. Honestly, I love the little vixen, but she better shape up in a few years if she’s going to compete with Cormac for Best Dog. 

Now I know how interesting it is when people talk about their pets and/or children, so I’ll let you go, loyal reader. Good night/morning. 

  
When you work 12 hour shifts, all night, three nights in a row….you tend to go a little loopy. There’s a 50 minute drive each way to and from work, and when I get home I have to stay up long enough for the dogs to frolic and do business outside. So let’s say I spend 15 hours a day ‘working’. I have to take my meds and get 8 hours of sleep or else my brain starts to beat me up, so there’s 23 hours right there. I have an hour of freedom to eat something or, luxury upon luxury, read or write. That’s my life from Friday night to Monday morning. Now, I can shave off an hour of sleep (and sometimes my body does that anyway) and write or read more, I can stay awake and play with the dogs so they don’t go stir-crazy and destroy the house, I have options…but not really. 

Advantages! I get four days off a week, although I waste one day of freedom by sleeping through it. I can hang out with my friends with normal schedules after they’re off work and I don’t care HOW late I stay up, if said friends are available. I can model or do extra work (read: working as an extra for film shoots) without worrying about using my accrued PTO. I can schedule my doctor appointments any time during the week because I know I won’t have work. That last perk is damn convenient, if a little lame. 

So I am happy with graveyards, at least for now, although things may change when the Husband starts school and has a crazy schedule too. The only thing that sucks is leaving the dogs alone, and that won’t be an issue after Husband comes home. 

On the other hand, it’s 5:20 am and I would murder you all to be asleep right now. 

The things we do for a paycheck. 
Good night/morning, loyal reader. 

this is a picture of me taken at my wedding venue, on the day of my wedding.

See the flat tummy and buxom other-things? that’s how I want to look now. I doubt i would fit into my wedding dress if i tried. it was barely 4 years ago (3 years, 11 months and change) but my body has changed a lot since then. I went down 40 or more pounds when i was sick, and the ONLY thing i regret was gaining all this weight back. Ok that’s bullshit, i regret a lot more than that…but this is the most shallow thing i regret, ok?

I think about my weight a lot, but i can’t seem to find the motivation to go to the gym daily/weekly/at fucking all, so why am I whining? Ugh.

On a totally unrelated note:

30,924 words into my manuscript, I am realizing just how clever JK Rowling was to chart out her books ahead of time, because I know baaaaasically what happens next, but not exactly how. I have to kill a character dear to my heart, I have to get everyone else the fuck out of their location, and I have to do it all keeping the unicorn in play. It’s not an easy task. People think that writing is something easy and fun that one simply does; not a process that one embarks on even when the going is terrible and rough. I don’t particularly want to write tonight, but I will.

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.”
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

  
Burning Man started 5 hours ago, and I’m not going. 

The thing about maturity is that it stops you from doing a lot of fun dumb stuff, like driving your mom’s car 8 hours (16 at least with traffic) to the (arguably) best party in the country, to see your Husband and friends. Instead you go to work for 12 hours. 

This sucks. 

you all may be wondering why I chose the title ‘Jady by Proxy’ for my new website/blog. redrighthandmade.wordpress.com has been working out for me for quite some time, but I wanted a dot com of my own, and so I chose this title for several reasons:

1. My modelmayhem.com profile already fits it.

2. I’ve been using the nickname ‘proxy’ for myself ever since I lived in Chicago, when my sister was very sick, and I felt as I acted as her proxy on a number of occasions.

3. It sounds cool.

4. Words are a proxy for identity; you could read all the blogs in the world and never truly know their authors in the same way you might after 10 minutes, alone, in silence with them. Words are proxies for emotions, actions, things that can never be fully interpreted or mutually agreed upon. 

I blog because I love to write, and have a bad memory, and I need my words to illuminate my life. By proxy.