LEFT BRAIN / RIGHT BRAIN

Remember that rant I did about love? Well, I'm now a victim of the virus. In March, I met Diane (Tashabear), a cute SCAdian bear woman who's so much like me, it's frightening. She's basically me, in drag, and a smaller car. She just recently moved in to my place and is working on making my home a place for her, which is okay as long as she doesn't make me do everything. Heh. (Just kidding babybear, please don't kill me!) Still, we have fun when we can, look after each other, and try not to get into each other's hair, of which she has gobs more than me.

In May, I turned 33. Not much else happened in April or May or June. I worked, did some art, and enjoyed the increasingly good weather.

At the end of July, Tashabear and I went to the Anthrocon in Philadelphia. Being new to furryism, T'bear was astonished at how weird nearly everybody there was compared to us. Apart from a scant few, we were probably the most consertive and normal furries there. When we go to FurCon in January, we both should be better prepared. Anyway, at the AntCon, we ended up being roped into the staff for next years con. Tashabear is the editor-in-chief of the con-book and I an a lowly staff artist. Ah, more work!

August was simply hot-ish. Nothing really happened in August.

It all changed in September. At the beginning of the month, my father passed away after a valiant struggle with esophageal cancer. For a few days, I grieved until something else came and took it away.

WTC

Two planes, hijacked by Islamic extremists, were flown into the World Trade Center towers, collapsing both and killing thousands. Another plane was flown into the Pentagon, killing hundreds more. A fourth plane was wrested from the hijackers but alas crashed in western Pennsylvania. The safe secure world we all lived in vanished on that day. No longer could we get on a plane a go somewhere without looking at all of the faces of the other passengers, wondering if one of them had that fundamentalistic fire so hot that it would consume all around. A few weeks later, the bombs began to fall on Afghanistan. They continue as the masterminds of the WTC catastrophe hide in the hills like mice.

October was a little brighter. An S.C.A. equestrian event run by Tashabear was the highlight of the year. Amazing weather, beautiful surroundings and great food (prepared by yours truly) conspired to make a game of horses and riders a wonderful event.

November was full of work. Tashabear had an apartment, and not an excessively high number of things to move to my place, but three flights of narrow stairs and a lot of little things to do made it a job and a half. She's at my place now, but a lot of her stuff is still in boxes and plastic trunks or in the garage. We hope to have all of her stuff in by the end of 2003.

And that's it in a nutshell. A lot of work, some sadness, some happiness, and a bit of funfun thrown in. Hopefully, when next year rolls around, I can relax...but I doubt it.

Yep...somehow that weak side said, "C'mon, let her move in...she'll be closer, safer...she knows where the guns are and can cover you when you have to run to the store for supplies and ammo." So I said, "yeah," and now she's here. I'm gonna spend a ton of money on paint and wood and tools I know. Oy. (Just kidding babybear, please don't kill me!) But she has long hair, a turn-on for me. I just hope it doesn't gob up the shower. But anyway...

In May I did turn 33. One year closer to death. If I live to 66, my life is half over. How depressing.

At least I've got places I can go to distract me...case in point, Anthrocon. It's bad when you're the least freaky person in a convention full of unconventional people, ranging from relatively safe fanboys to the most vile, depraved perverts on the face of the planet. My kinda people! Can't wait to go back! Unfortunately, I'll have to fly there if I wanna go back.

Ah, the WTC disaster. Nothing like a Kamikaze taking a plane, himself and 200 screaming hostages to paradise with him. I hope there's a special kind of hell for the animals that plotted and pulled off the most horrific terrorist action on U.S. soil. If there isn't, we'll make one. Sticking Osama bin Laden into a slow-motion automatic skinning machine would do wonders for my, and a lot of other people's morale. If they thought they knew hate, they haven't had an entire country with 250 million vengeful voices and a stockpile of weapons and bombs that we've been ammasing since the last big war aimed at them. The message we send will be clear...fuck with us and we will bomb your country to rubble, then we'll bomb the rubble.

But we got by it. The equestrian event went okay. Had Callie, the horse I was riding not been so skittish, I and Tashabear might've done better, but it was still a good show. Thank the gods for conspiritorial miracles.

November was not so bright. My body still aches from the climbing of three flights of stairs. Joints overworked and muscles strained, it'll be months until I recover enough that I'll be able to enjoy the finer things again...like standing up without creaking. Ah well...maybe the sex'll be good therapy.

But that's enough. I'll hopefully have a Christmas rant soon, where you'll read lines like: "..if it was me on Mt. Crumpet, I'd've let the sled fulla Who-shit drop..."