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Nephylim

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  1. Nephylim
    So, I was thinking about all the sexy new sigs and thinking 'WOW I wish I could do that' and knowing it was never going to happen.
     
    And then this pm popped up and I opened it and there was this angel flying around who blew her trumpet and announced... Lo I bring tidings of great joy, for this night shall be born on GA a sig of great sexiness.
     
    No, seriously, it was Cia who offered to make me a sig.
     
    And then we met on MSN and we chose a picture (which incidentally Cia took. I think it's in the gallery so go and look). Then we agreed the writing and I got over excited and said things like OOH OOH.
     
    And then came the time when I needed to download it (upload it?) into my gallery. Sooo. I tried for ages to get it into my gallery in a variety of ways and got totally confused (This is the person who gets photos from her phone into her 'My Photos' via Facebook and the, after a few attemtps, into my Gallery.
     
    Anyway, back to the story... So there I was completely incapable of getting the sig into my Gallery. After a tutorial from Cia I managed to get it into my Gallery but it was tiny. I tried to make it bigger and... surprise, surprise... failed
     
    So in the end Cia put it in her Gallery then waved a magic want and... poof... there it was... MY NEW SIG.
     
    Soooo the moral of the tale
     
    NEVER ask me to do anything technical
    NEVER expect me to understand anything you do or say that is technical
    NEVER assume that anything technical that affects my signature, forum, webpage etc was done by me
    Cia is a fairy
     
     
    Okay, and I would like to edit with the comment that it took me precisely one and a half minutes to work out how to publish this blog. I got it to Draft easily enough and then couldn't work out how to publish.
     
    It occurs to me that it's miracle how I managed to find my way around GAStories... again thanks to Cia and Lugh
  2. Nephylim
    This weekend could have been one of the worst of my life. I had been so excited, I can't even begin to describe how excited I was. And then on the day of the trip, as I was opening the oven to warm the croissants my back went out. I broke my back in 1997 and I also have disc disease which means that the discs in my spine are crumbling away. I've lost four and another two are starting to go. When my back goes out I can look forward to a week of constant pain and regular debilitating spasms. One of the worst things is that I am afraid of the spasms. I could spend all my time living in fear of the next moment just in case but I don't.
     
    On Feb 4th I was terrified. The though of journeying to Manchester and spending a weekend alone with strangers had changed from an exciting adventure to a complete nightmare. To give you an idea of the scale of this... my daughter had to dress me while I sobbed in pain. I was devastated... and then we re organised my whole suitcase with things that were easier for me to wear, added a whole load of strong drugs and in complete terror I headed into the unknown...
     
    ... to one of the best weekeds I have ever had; and it's all down to the people I met. The first kind people were the station staff who took care of me, handled my case, found me a seat and walked me from platform to platform. Then there was the lovely man who offerent to carry my stuff all the way to the hotel, but I only let him do it to where he was going anyway. Then there was the hotel staff who took really great care of me, taking my case up to my room, opening doors and ordering a taxi.
     
    But the best, sweetest, most adorable, beautiful and kind people I met all weekend were this weird group of strangers I happened to bump into in the foyer of my hotel.
     
    We had kind of decided that I would write an axaggerated tale to see how far we could take it before people realised it was totally made up... but then I figured that there was nothing I could say to improve the truth which was unbelievable enough in itself.
     
    I could hardly believe my luck when I walked in to the foyer and immediately spotted two of the lovliest men I have met and to know they were waiting for me. The life force that emanated from them was so enlivening and their smiles were so warm and bright that they buoyed me for the whole weekend. There was so much beauty in them it blew me away... and the greatest beauty of all shone from the obvious love they have for each other. I have rarely seen two people who fit together so well and who lighten any situation by sharing that love with those around then.. consciously and unconsciously. The humour that surrounsd them is like a cloud of laughing gas that makes you smile even when you feel like shit. I totally fell in love with them both right from the start. (I even forgave the positive references to Margaret Thatcher )
     
    And then we added in a pure, quiet and gentle soul who brings a sense of calm so that I can hardly imagine him in any kind of fluster. There were times when I was concerned that he might be feeling left out because he talked the least of us all... but I think it is because he listened the most and when he had something to say we all listened. He has the sweetest smile and kindest eyes and was the most perfect gentleman. He is the kind of man that you would always feel safe with no matter what happened or where you were and would trust with you darkest secret and know beyond doubt he would never betray you. His only fault was in his bad choice of umbrellas.
     
    After a fabulous meal my new friends insisted on dragging me down to Canal Street to see the go go dancers. I fgured that If I was going to be dragged off on an adventure then we should also drag in the fifth member of our happy band who, bless him had only just got there and was probably looking forward to a rest. We lured him with the promise of go go dancers only to find that they had run away from the rain... although there was other entertainment. Personally I liked the twinkles in the trees.
     
    Anyway, our new member gave the best hugs ever and, as he owed me a few I took great pleasure in totally taking advantage and getting as many as I could. i can tell you one thing; you shouldn't trust the photographs posted in the forums... no mere photograph can convey the brightness of a smile or the animation of a sweet and cheeky personality. I couldn't get enough of that smile and fortunately we were blessed with it a lot over the weekend. I can't think of anyone else I have ever talked about Chemistry with, without instantly getting bored or even falling asleep. And he was so tall... why didn't I expect him to be so tall. With that smile, the beautiful eyes, the personality and the fab hugs, if only he had been thirty years older, straight and single I would have packed him in my suitcase and brought him home... whether he wanted to or not
     
    On the Saturday I noticed that there was a fabulous metal rail around my sink that would be perfect for handcuffs and again ranted against the universe for cursing me with back troubles that weekend. Having been down Canal Street the night before I am confident I would have found someone to chain to it if I had been fit. In fact, there was a very nice waiter called Aaron who carried my case up to my room who would have done nicely
     
    Anyway, our second trip down Canal Street was to a fab Italian restaurant where we met the sixth member of our happy band who was last but certainly not least. To be honest I think we overwhelmed him a little. He was very quiet to begin with but we soon warmed him up. We had some awesome recommendations for real Chinese restaurants which I spoiled by my inability to travel to them. He was unbelievably sweet and although quietly spoken became animated and very interesting when talking about things he knew. Thanks to him we found out some fascinating things about Chinese culture... such as they steaks are not rare, medium or well done but a percentage of how cooked they are. I would assume that rare would be 15%, medium 50% and well done 80 - 100%.
     
    We had some excellent conversations about languages; some of which I have to admit I didn't understand at all. In fact we hardly stopped talking and we didn't even have time to slag off anyone on GA. Although it was suggested as we had most of Europe and Asia covered by our group we shoudl really talk about the Americans, when it came down to it we didnt have much of whinge there either.
     
    I think we mentioned stories maybe six times, and then only briefly... four of those was me asking Stu if he had re posted his story yet... I TOLD them I had a bad memory(he should have realised when I got his main character's name wrong (I did remember there were four letters with a double at the end) ) and who's counting anyway.
     
    What more can I say. This physically screwed, tired, grumpy and fat and frayed old woman was given the honour of spending the weekend with a band of babes who kept me smilng no matter what. Thanks you GA for letting me get to know these treasures and thank you boys for putting up with me and even seeming to like me
     
    Would I go again; even with the pain? HELL YEAH.
  3. Nephylim

    Death - Is it Just Me?

    By Nephylim,

    I have never been afraid of death. I have been afraid of dying, but I have pretty much made my peace with that too.
     
    Afraid or not, at peace or not, I have always had a total fascination with death and I have been told that makes me weird. As many of you know I have a thing about unconsciousness. I find the fading of consciousness fascinating and very sexy (may I say from an entirely altruistic point of view and not through experience). As an extension of this the moment of death is even more fascinating and even more sexy. (I feel obliged to mention for those who dont know me.... and for those who do... I have never harboured the slightest inclination for necrophilia or crossing the boundary during copulation) It's a theoretical fascination only for me.
     
    Tonight I was dicussing with my family a series of photographs by a german photographer Walter Schels which are of people shortly before and shortly after their deaths. http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/gallery/2008/mar/31/lifebeforedeath Now I find the photographs absolutely beautiful and the comments fascinating. My daughters on the other hand think they are sick and I'm weird.
     
    Well I know I'm weird... you only have to read my stories to see that, but I truly think that these photographs, and death as a whole, are beautiful, fascinating and not in any way creepy, sick or strange
     
    Why do we all freak out so much about death. In the not so distant past it was respected. People were treated well when they died; they remained part of the family. Death was spoken of not as a thief in the night but as the natural ending of a cycle just as the trees lose their leaves and the the grain give up their heads for the ale.
     
    Even in Victorian times we spoke of the dead, took photographs of them, lived with their open coffins for a few days, made the parting easier for them and for us.
     
    When did death become a dirty, an unspeakable event? Since when did we shut our loved ones in a box as soon as possible and lock them away in an impersonal 'chapel of rest' where strangers dress them and lay them out because their own family can't bear to (and are now not allowed to) where we are only allowed to visit once at a specified time?
     
    Since when? And why? Why are we so afraid of something, that is as natural as the rain, that we can't even bear to say its name except in hushed tones.
     
    Is this a morbid post? Is that a bad thing? Why?
     
    Is it Just Me
  4. Nephylim

    Is it Only Me?

    By Nephylim,

    Is it just me who has a real issue with the song released by Matt Cardle, the UK XFactor winner.
     
    When we collide we come together
    If we don’t we’ll always be apart
    I’ll take a bruise I know you’re worth it
    When you hit me, hit me hard
     
    I mean... WHAT!!!!
     
    It's about being in an abusive relationship where your partner essentially beats the crap out of you but you stay together because you think they love you and you love forever!!!
     
    What kind of message does that send out... that it's okay for your partner to beat you? That you should stay in an abusive relationship and 'take a bruise'?
     
    Why is there no outcry?
    Why is there not even an agry comment on facebook?
     
    What kind of people llsten to this song and don't complain?
     
    Maybe it's because I see the results of this kind of thinking every day but I am truly shocked by this.
  5. Nephylim
    1. It seems like a good idea to play Guitar Hero on Expert Level... until the ten year old wins... hugely
     
    2. the idea of playing Rapidough is just the best and it goes quitewell until... breast... when I got to snort Southern Comfort... the wrong way.
     
    3. They drink a lot more than I do and get a lot less pissed.
     
    4. You write stupid blog entries
     
    5.. You can't count past five
     
    It was a GREAT evening though :)
     
     
  6. Nephylim

    Roll on 2011

    By Nephylim,

    I have been having such a hard time lately. I won't bore you with it all as I have been depressing enough in my statuses (if that is a word)
     
    I have struggled with my epilepsy and in particular with not having a car. I have lost my mother and my ex posted up the fact that he is in a new relationship the day before the funeral... not a surprise or a regret but the timing was crap. My daughter got sick with diabetes and then went through hell as she was unable to afford to go to Law School to finish her last year and so she and her girlfriend came to stay with me.
     
    Having 4 in the house instead of 2 have had its ups and downs. Having other adults around has been great but it is so bloody expensive. Add up the food (and Sam is a chef so it's not just fish fingers like it used to be), the added expense to rates, electricity, water etc. Then I had to give them all my savings to allow them to settle their bills and afford to travel to work before they had their first pay. So I am broke, wiped out.
     
    The deal was that they didn't give me any money but would do all the housework, particularly as they use every dish in the house when they cook. THey have cleaner their room weekly and the rest of the house once. At least after I spoke sternly they are now doing the dishes.
     
    I am exhausted.
     
    We have decorated for Christmas and getting excited. My daughter gave me
  7. Nephylim

    Hopeless

    By Nephylim,

    I got a new cooker today because the last one literally fell apart. I've been holding the over door closed with a paint tin for some time and last week the whole thing died. So I have a new one.
     
    The delivery company have very few requirements. Just take out the old cooker and put it in the middle of the floor and they will take it away and put the new one in it's place... rather like the tooth fairy, not that they looked anything like fairies... except maybe fairy boot.
     
    Anway... there we were last night. Three women, all with degrees, all reasonably intelligent and pondered how the hell we were going to disconnect the cooker. I thought I was being clever when I took the socket off the wall... until I looked at the back of it and it was NOT like a normal plug. So there we were with no cooker at all and no idea what to do with the one we have. We had pizza.
     
    Today I called my friend and asked if he could recommend an electrician. He came round himself and within thirty seconds had unscrewed the wires, not from the wall but from the three screws that were attaching them to the back of the cooker under the easy to remove plate. Meh
     
    Nice new cooker though.
  8. Nephylim

    Death

    By Nephylim,

    My mother died today. I wasn't there. When I got to the hospital she was already dead and I went to her room with my sister and neice to sit with the thing that used to be my mother. i say 'thing' not out of any disrespect but to acknowledge the fact that my mother no longer inhabits it.
     
    We sat around for a while feeling as if we should be saying or doing something but there was nothing to say or do.
     
    I came home and lit candles, said a prayer to the goddess and contemplated what it was I felt I should have done or said. It wasn't really anything to do with my mother's body. I had and have nothing to say to that as it is nothing. Neither do I have anything to say to her spirit that I did not say when it was inhabiting the body... except perhaps goodbye, I hope you finally find peace.
     
    You see on the way to the hospital, at the time she died, I was sitting on the train and I heard someone say 'I'm sorry'. There was no one there, no one in the entire carraige... except for me and my mother. She released a lot of things inside me with those two words and that is why I am hoping she finds peace. She has been carrying those words inside her since I was a child and I wish she had said them to me with her body. Never mind, that is her regret and not mine. Her spirit released her. I have no regrets, no need to forgive, no requirement to be forgiven.
     
    But I digress. What was it I felt I should be doing? I concluded that I was straining towards the ritual, the ceremony, the due respect... the helping of the soul to find it's way. There was no candle at the foot of the bed, to mirrors to cover with sheets, no windows to open, no prayers to recite. There was nothing but a feeling of... something missing.
     
    I think our lives are less rich for the fact that we have so easily cast off the traditions and customs of our forefathers and we are left sterile and lost feeling that something, somewhere is missing.
     
    we have to coming of age trials, no rites of passage, no ritual and so we find different rituals to fill the need in our soul... smoking, drinking, abuse, rape, grraffiti... so many. Where are the signposts that tell us where we fit into our society, where are the little things that expect and allow us to pay respect to those who are living and those who are dead?
     
    My mother is gone from this world now. She knows the secrets of beyond. I wonder is she weeping now that she knows the truth.
     
    I am not weeping. I don't feel the need for it. Somewhere, somehow I feel a rightness about it. I have never mourned death, never cried at funerals. Is that a strangeness in me... who knows it is as I am
     
    Night night Mam
  9. Nephylim
    Okay... so I have dipped a toe into the world of blogging because I have been genuinely confused about something and I thought that by sharing the confusion sense might appear as it sometimes does.
     
    I have been told three times in the last two days that I am 'too nice'. So what the hell is 'too nice'? I have always thought that this was what it was all about... to be as nice as possible, as often as possible to as many people as possible. Being nice makes me happy, being niced on makes them happy... win win situation.
     
    So how do you quantify too nice? Does it mean that somehow you go through the middle of nice and come out in the nasty spectrum beyond. By being too nice do you actually hurt or offend people? Or does it mean that people don't like you being nice, that they can only cope with just so much niceness from any one person?
     
    And then comes the problem... how do you limit your niceness? Are you only nice on Thursdays? Maybe ration it out over the week and have a rest on the weekend being a complete bitch to everyone who crosses your path.
     
    Or perhaps you should only be nice to people who are nice to you. But then is that really nice at all...being nice only when you receive niceness back? And how do you know if they are going to be nice to you? Do people get a grace period. You're nice to them for a few hours/days/weeks until they pass the niceness test. After that if they pass you carry on being nice and if not they get to meet queen bitch.
     
    Maybe you should limit the places where you are nice. Only be nice at work... or outside work... or on the internet. What if I'm only nice on the forum and a bitch in chat?
     
    Perhaps you should only be nice to your family... or your friends... or some other priviledged category.
     
    Or perhaps rather than limiting the places you are nice you should spread it thinner, be less nice to everyone all the time.
     
    It all seems pretty absurd to me. I think that I shall stick to my tried and tested mantra... and this above all unto thine own self be true. And I will be as nice as I please to whomever I please, wherever I please, as often as I please. And if that's too nice, or not nice enough or even not nice at all... well... I'm too nice to tell you where to shove it
  10. Nephylim

    Hopeless Love

    By Nephylim,

    What is it about falling in love with someone you know you can't have?
     
    From a serious crush on a movie star to the straight boy/girl, it happens so many times I was wondering if there was any reason why our emotions let us down so badly in these situations... and this is what I came up with.
     
    Falling in love with someone you can't have is safe.
     
    Okay it's painful and angsty and heartbreaking and desperate but it's safe.
     
    You know you can't have them, that there's no chance it will ever happen so you can dream about it, wish for it, long for it... all you want and you know that you are never going to have to take a risk with it, open yourself, expose yourself (in the emotional NOT the sexual way)
     
    As much as it hurts you can't get rejected, you can't have your self esteem torn to shreds, you don't have to take risks, accept consequences. It allows us to explore our sexuality through fantasy without the risk of action.
     
    A serious crush is something that every teenage girl can tell you about, but do we ever grow out of it?
     
    Hell no
  11. Nephylim

    Self Image

    By Nephylim,

    I have been inspired to write this by a number of recent threads
     
    First of all... How 'real' is your online identity. Well I took that to mean are you a role player, do you pretend to be someone else, hide behind a facade and my first reaction was ... no of course I'm not. I don't hide behind any facade, I am exactly who I say I am. I am completely open and honest, what you see is what you get... etc etc. But am I honest? Am I completely honest? Becuase the only pictures I have posted here on the site of me are good ones... very good ones and by that I mean flattering.
     
    So many times in the picture threads I have seen people post a picture and then say things like... don't blame me if you have nightmares, or don't run for the hills... what they are really saying is don't judge me by the way I look, don't hate me because I have a negative image of myself.
     
    Of course some people say that to draw out favourable comments because they know they're good looking but that's a different story.
     
    The thing is that I have been completely open and honest in all the things I have said... all the opinions I have expressed, the things I have revealed about myself, my likes and dislikes, who and what I am, my family, my experiences. But in the things I haven't said? The things I haven't let you see? Surely the things we hide say as much about us as the things we reveal, even more.
     
    Another thread that made me think was the.... how do you define beauty... thread. How do you define beauty? All to often it's how somone looks on the outside and I know it is because that is a large part of how I define it too. I love eyes. I love minds. I fall in love with minds and eyes and I don't even have to ever have met the people behind them. So does it matter what that person looks like... no. It helps if they have gorgeous eyes and I usually find that people with beautiul minds have beautiful eyes, but it's not the way they look that interests me at all. If someone is beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside then they are not beautiful at all.
     
    So where do these two come together. Well it has to do with the way we see ourselves and the way we project ourselves online. When we are online no one can see us. They can't see the fact that we are slobbing out in our pyjamas or eating toast and gettng butter on our chins and the keyboard. We are not intimidated by beautiful shells or turned off by less than beautiful ones. In some ways we can be more honest online because we can show what is behind the mask and see what is behind other masks.
     
    But is that being honest at all. Isn't that mask part of who we are as much as the things we say, the way we think? If you have a negative image of the way you look then doesn't that affect the way you present yourself, whether someone can see you or not?
     
    I can express my opinions until the cows come home, contravertial or not. I can talk about intimate details of my life, my past, my experiences, my thoughts, feelings.. blah blah blah. But I don't take compliments well and in the beginning I would actually cry when someone said something really nice about my writing. I am getting better at that but sometimes it still makes me feel uncofortable. Why? Because I hate the way I look. Does that make sense?
     
    It's hard to describe but over the last 45 years I have spent a large part of it being told negative things about myself, usually for non malicious reasons. My mother was so concerned that I would get 'big headed' that she took every opportunity to pull me down and sneer at every achievement I have had. You would think that she would be proud that I am the first member of my family to go to university, the first to be a professional, the first to be a writier, the first to be a painter... the first to actually do something interesting and creative with their lives... but no. It is a cardinal sin where I live to be considered 'snobby' or 'above yourself' and she was on a mission to make sure I 'kept it real'
     
    And then there's my weight. I used to be a very active person. I played badminton for the county, a lot of sqash, walked the mountains, engaged in very physical activites with the re enactment society I belonged to .... like running around fields waving a sword at sexy men and screming. And then in 1997 I broke my back. For a time I had to use a wheelchair and I was told I would be confined to one at some point... well screw that. No one was interested in pushing me in it and got resentful when they had to so I got out of it and stored it underthe stairs. I threw it out the other day because it was gathering dust.
     
    However, as a result of that accident and the ongoing problems it has left me I piled on the weight.
     
    Once I was fat AND useless I started to lose hope. Then I got epilepsy and it flared up my psoriasis so now I am a red, flaky, fat, insecure person with severe mobility problems and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Who's going to love me? Well people who can't see me might.But then I would have to pretend to be attractive and that wouldn't be honest.... so I cut that whole thing out of my life. I can be a flirt to a degree but it's never personal. I never let myself get close to anyone, not it that way... well I didn't... because rejection is expected and therefore the opportunity to be rejected is never allowed to present itself
     
    So I don't show a photograph of me as I really am, I show one of my head, in a good light, half hiding behind my hair, with enough make up to sink the Titanic.
     
    So how honest am I? I am breaking all my own rules about beauty and I am hiding a huge part of myself from eveyone here. And that's not even touching on the whole vampire/angel thing and by completely off the wall beleifs.
     
    So how honest am I? i really don't know.
  12. Nephylim
    For all of you who have fallen in love with Silver, my wonderful ex slave from my Enigma stories, and for everyone who would like to get to know him, I am releasing a Special Edition of books I and II of the Enigma series.
     
    There are all kinds of events to celebrate the release, such as a Facebook Event and Twitter Party. Both will take place at 6pm GMT on 1st July.
     

     
    I have been running a competition to win a copy of the Special Edition, which contains the two books, a brand new short story, and original art by myself and Maria, and also a signed poster of Silver. The competition runs until 1st July and the winner will be announced at the event.
     

     
    To enter the competition you will need to visit five blogs, read five very different posts with regard to Silver and his story and answer five questions
     
    For information on the participating blogs and further information on the release, and on Enigma in general, visit my blog at http://nephylim-author.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/christmas-in-july-special-omnibus_25.html
     
    Earlier, rougher versions of both book I and book II are available to read free https://www.gayauthors.org/story/nephylim/enigma and https://www.gayauthors.org/story/nephylim/enigmaiifightingtheman
     

  13. Nephylim

    I Have A Blog

    By Nephylim,

    I know, crazy isn't it?
     
    This technophobic technopathetic girl has managed all by herself (almost) to make a whole blog page.
     
    Go take a look at vote in my poll as to which kind of man you prefer.
     
    http://nephylim-author.blogspot.com/
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