Citizen Steff: On the Case!

I'm depressed as all hell right now. I don't know, there's an evil Bermuda Triangle of badness going on for me. Money woes (hey, feel free to PayPal donate to me -- I could use the help -- the button's on the right and every penny helps) and some frustrations revolving around writing/blogging/career and waiting on hearing about a major article being accepted (or not) and Mother's Day with the reality that I'm a daughter without a mother and the world's conspiring to remind me of it EVERY fucking second, EVERY fucking place I go.

(Can we for once try to remember that actions speak louder than gifts, and you can spend all the money you want, but it's how you fucking treat your mother the other 364 days this year that dictate the kind of child you are? Fuck cards and flowers. Be thoughtful and considerate the whole year round. How hard is it? I used to pick flowers at random, make her tea on a whim, rub her neck, do anything I could to make her feel good when she needed it, and just would make dinner on Mother's Day. And she's dead and gone these last six years, and I know there's one thing I have none of: Regret. But that's how we should always treat those we love -- as if we know they're going to up and vanish on us one day. Because they will. She did.)

I wrote about bondage and need to continue the series, but right now, I just need to deal with me, my time, myself, because sometimes it really IS all about me/us.

That said, tonight I stopped a thief. I fucking rock! (But don't take my word for it, the Guy says so, too.) Here's the sordid tale. Hey, it's a fun story, and I doubt you're getting any writing out of me until Saturday.