The character I identify with most

Okay, I know I should let it go and I promise to get over it soon. The review mentioned in the post below just REALLY bothered me. I'm sure if you read the post that my reasons are obvious. The reviewer calls the book a "Mary Sue" saying that I'm the main character Jewel and then goes on to call her "uninteresting."

Gee, thanks a lot. So, in all fairness I took another look at the story. I already knew that I'm nothing like Jewel. But as I re-read the book I remembered how much fun it was to write Alucard. How I never had to second guess what he would do because I already knew ... because he was the character I most identified with in the story. If it is a Mary Sue in any sense then at least cast me as the proper character. I am Alucard. And his shadow that makes vulgar gestures behind his back. lol I'm sarcastic, have a warped sense of humor, and often dress in black. I also like long coats and have a few in my wardrobe. He's ME for crying out loud. Oh, and I've fantasized about being the boogeyman. lol Probably TMI. Sorry.

One more thing I forgot about Vincent, he transforms into a gargoyle. Yeah, nothing like Jean-Claude, like I already said. Just because one vampire in another book was sexy doesn't mean they made sexy famous.

But after reading the story again and seeing so much of myself in Alucard, it does mean I might need therapy. LOL

My son is growing up and I can't cope

My son is growing up and the strangest thing is happening. I can’t cope. I was already having a hard time dealing with the idea of a girlfriend. Then I cleaned house today. In a box I had completely forgotten about were some pictures that I had also forgotten. Among them the smiling three year old face I had almost forgotten too.

How does that happen? It’s simple really. He gets taller and I get used to looking at that. His hair darkens and I get used to that too. The baby fat disappears and somewhere along the way I forgot how much I missed it.

I used to lay awake at night and wonder when he’d stop waking me up because he had a bad dream. Now I lay awake and wonder why he doesn’t do it anymore. He’s starting to look like a young man and it’s killing me.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve been crying now over that little face in those pictures. Or how much my head hurts because of it. I was young when he was born. Hell, I’m still young now. But I feel so old tonight. I’ve worked so many years to make a life and in the process I feel I’ve missed one. His. Like so many women it was necessary for me to work outside the home. Here I am unemployed again (other than my income from writing) and wondering, what’s the use? What has any of it gotten me?

Sure, I helped to pay the bills. But right now as I look at these pictures I can’t remember what it felt like to hold him as a baby. I can’t recall how “little” his voice sounded. We didn’t own a video camera until he was older so my memories are the only way to ever experience those moments again. But my memory tells me how I put work first. How I always needed sleep instead of time to play because I had to go to work early. To a boss who was an asshole while I left my son with my mother.

Maybe every parent feels this way. I don’t know. What I do know is that I would give anything to have those years back.

I guess what it all boils down to is that my son is growing up … and I can’t cope.