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Category Archives: blog

YouTube Book Review

04 Sunday Jun 2017

Posted by in art, blog, book, culture, dementia, Fractured Memories, gratitude, karma, kindness, Uncategorized

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Brittany, from BrittanyReads, posted her spring indie author wrap-up on youtube, and included a review of my book, Fractured Memories. So now you don’t have to read the review, you can watch it, because screw reading, amiright? Oh, wait. The review of my book starts at around 4 minutes 45 seconds. Please go show her channel a little love, and check out some more indie books!

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Holla!

18 Thursday May 2017

Posted by in art, blog, book, death, dementia, Fractured Memories, humor, karma, kindness, painting, Uncategorized, writing

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Just got another great review of the book by a book blogger! Hollaaaaaa! Check it out on her blog, Brittany Reads, or read it below:

“Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love Too by Emily Page is a profoundly raw account of one family’s experience of caring for a father with frontotemporal dementia (FTD).  The story is told from the perspective of an adult daughter (the author) who is caring for her father along with her husband and her mother. The book has three parts.  This first part of the book is much like a traditional memoir, with the author’s experience recounted in a narrative.  The second part of the book reads a bit like a series of journal entries, raw and largely unedited recounts of caring for her father.  The author is an artist, and the third part of the book is a series of paintings she created that out of her caregiving experience.

The author’s love for her father is the greatest testament of this book.  Yes, the author becomes angry, emotionally frayed and anxiety-ridden in the seven years she cared for her father, and sometimes those emotions are even directed at her father.  But she never walks from the situation. Underneath all the difficult emotion was an abundantly present love of a daughter. The first chapter recounts her father’s life before his diagnosis. It’s a beautiful celebration of his life before dementia, including his sense of humor, his extraordinary passion for trains and music, and his time as a First Lieutenant in the Vietnam War.

Frontotemporal dementia is described as disease of a thousand goodbyes, like slowly losing the person you love in stages.  The author writes:

“When I got home, I, of course, got online and started researching the disease. What I saw was not good. Asshole internet, which so very often lies, refused to lie to me that night. The symptoms all matched: odd social behavior (disinhibition), inability to make changes or follow complicated instructions, heightened emotion, depression. Treatment was aimed at managing symptoms, not slowing or stopping the disease. There were no medications for that. Prognosis: death two to ten years after diagnosis, probably from pneumonia after aspirating food because of muscle failure. Two to ten years. Two to ten years. Two to ten years.”

This book leveled me.  I openly wept several times while reading it, especially in the second part of the book that read like a series of mostly unedited journal entries. I learned a great deal about the impact dementia has on a family. I also learned a great deal about how to advocate for someone living with this terrible disease.

The writing style is casual, and portions of the book read like an email from a friend.   It took a while for me to adjust to the casual style. I very much enoyed the artwork throughout the book.  The author uses images of elephants to portray herself, her father, and dementia itself because “an elephant never forgets” and “An elephant’s faithful 100 percent.”  The book ends with a list of songs, a playlist of the music that was mentioned throughout the book and has a special meaning or memory tied to the author and her father.  Fractures Memories is a must read for anyone who loves or cares for anyone living with dementia.”

And now, take a moment to read some of her other book reviews to find some other great new indie authors!!

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If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

Guest Post – When Only F#*k Will Do

16 Tuesday May 2017

Posted by in blog, humor, Uncategorized

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I wanted you to be able to start your day off right. Today’s guest post comes from Christine Knapp from I’m Sick and So Are You. This girl gets it, y’all. She’s dealt with serious physical pain and laughed in its face, while still being honest about how much it sucks. She’s our kind of people. When you’re done reading, head over and give her a little sugar (she just moved to The South, so she’ll have to get used to things being overly sweetened now).
One day, sitting in the very last seat of the very last table in the very last row of my middle school history class, I heard someone call, “Is there a Christine in the class?” I sheepishly raised my hand. “Oh good, could you come with me?” I followed closely behind, having to double up my pace at times, while the middle aged man introduced himself as the assistant principal.
I had never before been in trouble, nor had I been an academic scholar and I sure as hell had never won anything, so I didn’t quite understand why I was being called into the assistant principal’s office. After we hurried up the stairs and rushed past the secretary, he offered me a seat in his shoebox sized office. I scanned the pictures of his generic family while he smoothed out a few pages of notebook paper.
“I found someone reading this note during school hours and I confiscated it. I wasn’t going to read it, but a few of the words caught my eye.” As he held up the note I could see that it was my handwriting. It was a note that I’d written the previous day and stupidly signed my name to before handing it to my very best friend. It contained every profane word known to mankind. That note would have made a sailor blush. I sat motionless while he picked up the phone, called my mother at work, and read every last one of those words to her. I fucking hate that guy, to this very day.
For the life of me, I can’t remember the exact thing that caused me to unleash my profane fury, but this was middle school, so it could have been pretty much anything. Perhaps it was the time I got my period all over my beige jeans. Or, maybe it was the time my crush, Brian, brought me into a room with all his friends and made me think he was going to ask me out on a date so they could all laugh at me when I figured out he was just pulling my leg. But, then, it could have been the time the giant bully in my science class threatened to punch me and made me cry. Seriously, fuck middle school. Middle school is the worst.
It doesn’t matter what happened to trigger my angst, although I pretty much figure it’s the fact that I was wearing beige jeans. Beige jeans are rage inducing. The reality is, in some situations, only the word ‘fuck’ will do. Now, you might want to change things up a bit and use one of its many variations. You’ve got your fuckwad, nutfuck, and motherfucker (my personal favorite), but there needs to be a fuck in there somewhere because sometimes fuck is the word you’re looking for.
When your neighbor calls the cops on you the very first day you move into your apartment you’re not going to ask “What the heck?” No, ma’am. You are going to look at your husband straight in the face and say, “What the fuck is wrong with those people?” Then, you might want to shoot the bird toward the floor and whisper ‘fuck off’, strictly for therapeutic reasons.
You don’t describe the pain you feel after waking up from a surgery where they removed a tumor, some leg muscle, and chipped away at your hip bone as pretty uncomfortable. Nuh-uh. You tell it like it is. That shit fucking hurts. It hurts like a motherfucker. Better still, it fucking hurts like a fucking motherfucker. I can tell you, from my personal experience, it really does.
Fuck is the only thing that’ll get you through stubbing your toe on the coffee table, banging your funny bone on the kitchen counter, and knocking your head into the car door. You’re sadly deluded if you think ‘ouch’ is going to cut it under those circumstances. When it’s hot, you’re not making love, you’re fucking. When it’s not, well you might need to get the fuck outta there.
Fuck isn’t dainty. It isn’t subtle, doesn’t have soft edges. Fuck is pungent and boisterous. It busts down the door in lieu of knocking. It’s often inappropriate, occasionally awkward. Fuck isn’t wary or leery, it’s not timid. It’s brave and bold and when all else fails and fudge and heck and dang aren’t cutting it, fuck will see you through because sometimes only fuck will do.
Now go visit her blog and peruse and muse.

Guest Post: WTF Wednesday – The Legging Spread

10 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by in blog, humor, Uncategorized

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Today’s guest post comes from Katie over at Fatty McCupcakes, who I’m pretty sure is the sister my parents never revealed existed. She has a WTF Wednesday series that kills me, so she agreed to let me repost a past one for your entertainment. When you’re done reading, please head over and give her blog some love. It’ll have you crying with laughter. But first, read this:

It’s no secret that it’s my belief that leggings are life. They are insanely comfortable, they don’t cut painfully into your fat, and they don’t feel the need to remind you every time you yank them on that you’ve been laying the butter on pretty heavy lately.

I seriously have a definite love affair with my collection of leggings. It’s almost sick, guys.

I treat them better than my poor boyfriend.

I never dry them, and I bought a deliciously scented fabric softener to make them smell irresistible (is it weird I feel the need to have my pants smelling irresistible?) I also bought special hangers, because you don’t put these babies in a drawer.

Because I’ve been so comfortable and happy, I’ve hardly noticed it.

Noticed what, you ask?

The Spread.

Due to the elastic, forgiving nature of leggings, it’s easy to not realize when your girth starts to spread in all directions.

I’ve been ignorantly blissful about my weight these past few months.

That is, until I decided to wear jeans to school. Whatever possessed me to think this was a good idea is beyond me.

Because all of my jeans have a ridiculous amount of stretch, I didn’t really notice it until I sat down in my chair at school.

Thank you, Baby Jesus and all that is holy, that this occurred before my class was present.

When I sat down, due to the sheer force of my stomach, my pants jumped ship as Bertha spilled over the top, like overflowing bread dough in the oven.

It happened in slo-mo and I just sat, stunned, watching my spilling fat.

The rest of the day I spent sucking as much in as possible as to not knock an unsuspecting kid in the face with my fat.

Fuck. I’m disgusting. 

I’ve figured out what the real purpose of jeans are-they are your First Alert Weight Gain System. If you can still breathe in your buttoned jeans, you’re golden. If you need an inhaler after buttoning, you fat, friend.

Real pants are assholes, but they are like those true friends who don’t feed you any bullshit. They both won’t hesitate to tell you you’re looking like a polar bear in a puffy jacket.

Maybe real pants aren’t as useless as I’ve been believing. As soon as I can fit into my jeans again, I’ll maybe put them back into the wardrobe rotation. But, just so we’re clear, I’m still wearing leggings the majority of the week. I’m not about jean-everyday- life anymore.

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Bend your knees for the added power and energy you’re gonna need to cram yourself into your neglected jeans.

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When the button doesn’t take the first try…

fatty 3

Jump. Because jumping into your jeans is the obvious answer. Sorry, neighbor. No, I’m fine. No, a large piece of furniture didn’t fall over. Just fuck off, OK?

fatty 4

Is it just me, or does this look like my butt is on backwards?! Something doesn’t add up here.

fatty 5

Screw it. I’ll just wear my leggings.

An extra special “thank you” to my boyfriend, who just said, “You want me to do what?” and “OK, let’s do this” when I told him I wanted to recreate squeezing into my jeans.

Ladies, learn from me. Even if you don’t plan on actually wearing those asshole jeans, try them on, at least once a month, to monitor how far your Leggings Spread has grown.

You’ll thank me later.

 

Now go read more at her blog!

Guest Post: Ben’s Bitter Blog

07 Sunday May 2017

Posted by in art, blog, humor, Uncategorized, writing

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There’s this bitterly funny blog I follow called Ben’s Bitter Blog. Read one of my favorite posts here. He cracks me up on a regular basis, so I asked him to guest post while I’m living it up in France for the next couple weeks. Who knew he’d compliment me in his post? A girl can never get enough of that. Read his post below, then go check out his blog and maybe offer him a job so he can afford his all-pizza diet:

As a long time follower of Emily, she has graced me with the opportunity to guest post for her on a number of occasions. And as a bitter person, that thinks his time is valuable, I’ve always said yes, and then subsequently forgotten about it, pretended to be too busy, then left her hanging like a banana on a tall tree. Enough was enough this time though. I’ve always been really honored that she would want me, an uncooth and bitter old man to guest post for her. In contrast to my bitter old man routine, she is this amazing artist that works on a number of mediums. I’ve always been envious of the talented. I’m especially envious of my daughter (who I gave 50% of her genes!) who already can draw a stick figure much better than me.

There are two things that I know about art. First, art is subjective. While an untrained eye like me can appreciate all kinds of art like cartoons, comic strips, and super realistic art, there are some that I just can’t appreciate. I can’t believe these artists who draw dots, although really amazingly precise dots, that take almost no talent or creativity at all, except for the talent of swindling a super rich gentleman or lady to buy this “work of art” for more than a penny.  In that case, they should be salesman or criminals, because a dot should not be worth any kind of money. The only thing that dot should be worth is the dot in front of .01 (a penny). (Speaking of which, a penny to Emily actually means something. Ask her about the significance sometime.)

The other thing I know about art is that there are all kinds of different art. For instance, there are baseball pitchers that are so good at their craft, that they can pitch a 100 mile an hour pitch so precisely that it can “paint a corner” of the strike zone, or an architect that is so precise in his measurements that he can build the plans of a building that is 100 stories high, that lasts a 1000 years.

In other words, we can all be artists, but I think it takes a few things. I bet Emily will tell you that for her to be an artist, there are a few characteristics you need. First, you have to have a passion for what you do. I’m pretty sure if she was only doing her art for the money, she would be doing commercial advertising or graphic artistry somewhere. She has a passion for art, despite the fact that she isn’t making a million dollars for her various artistic mediums that she does.

Second you have to have a talent for it, and you need to work at it. Some people are the most naturally talented people at doing something, but they don’t work at it. I think that naturally gifted people that don’t work at something, can lose the talent and I think that is sad. I often wish I could sketch or draw or sculpt like some people I know, but have never been given the gift. But I’d rather be bad at something and try really hard, than be really good at something and not really work at that talent.

Which is why I blog. For years, I had this talent of humor and the talent of writing (and bitterness) and I never did anything with it. Until I read about a gentleman that was bad at something and he decided to work at it until he became good at it.

I may never be good at drawing, but I am good at doctoring words in a way that others aren’t good at. And not sharing that talent would be a shame. So get out there, find what you are good at, and share that art. Whether it is drawing, painting the corners, writing, engineering, accounting, or even making concrete smooth on a sidewalk. Everyone is an artist in some way, and when they share their art it makes the world a better place.

Oh and there is one more thing I’m good at. Shameless promotion. So, check our my blog at www.bensbitterblog.com and subscribe to it, follow it, share it with a celebrity that will promote it for me, so I can get rich.

ARRRRGGGHHH

Bitter Art is for Everyone Ben

Radios ‘n’ Reviews ‘n’ Such

10 Monday Apr 2017

Posted by in art, blog, book, death, dementia, Fractured Memories, gratitude, interview, Uncategorized

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Hey boys and girls,

Saturday’s radio show with Linda Burhans was a blast. It’ll be archived on her website soon, but if you missed it and just can’t wait, visit The Choice Radio Network’s Facebook page and scroll down to April 8th at 12:01pm. The show is broken up into 2 parts, and focuses more on my book in the 2nd part. Hopefully I’ll be able to give you a link to the complete show in one piece soon.

In the mean time, Joy Johnston, over at the Memories Project wrote a fantastic review of the Fractured Memories. So head over and give her site a little love!

Happy Monday! Now go out and kick a little ass!

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

Author Offering 2

30 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by in blog, book, gratitude, karma, kindness, Uncategorized

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As I dive into the world of promoting my own book, I’m discovering tons of other authors who are in the midst of the same insanity. Like with my art, the writing was the easy part. The promotion? That’s definitely the hard part. In an effort to help other writers who could use a little bump in sales, I’m going to start periodically sharing links to their blogs (so you can get a feel for their writing) as well as a link to their books in case you’re interested in supporting an indie author.

Here’s a wrap-up of the ones I’ve found recently:

April Munday’s blog https://aprilmunday.wordpress.com/ and book The Heart That Lies

Phil Taylor’s blog https://thephilfactor.com/ and books https://www.amazon.com/Phil-Taylor/e/B00AC8PM8A/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1

Shelley Wilson’s blog http://www.shelleywilsonauthor.co.uk/ and book How I Changed My Life In a Year

Colleen Chesebro’s blog https://colleenchesebro.com/ and book The Heart Stone Chronicles: The Swamp Fairy

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

This Review Tho’

15 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by in art, blog, book, dementia, family, Fractured Memories, gratitude, humor, karma, painting, Uncategorized

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My first order of books arrived today!! So now my living room looks like this:

boxes of books.jpg

As I start to empty the boxes, the cats are becoming ecstatic. They’re convinced it’s Christmas day. So. Many. Boxes. They keep hopping from one to the next.

I’ll be spending the next couple days signing books and preparing to ship out all of the pre-ordered ones. It’s a daunting but exciting task. Especially because I don’t really have a “signature” yet. I mean, I don’t want to sign the way I’d sign a document. My signature on paintings takes too long. So now I have to come up with a new one. Perhaps I should just sign them all with Monet’s signature. That’s legal, right? Think it’d boost my sales? Or maybe I should sign them with Beyonce’s signature – Beyonce the singer, not Beyonce the giant metal chicken (that’s just chicken scratch).

Seriously though. I just got my second review – again from someone I don’t even know. For some reason not knowing them makes me even more giddy because they’re not obligated to say nice things about me. I might have to change my name to Giddy-on. And we can all refer to Fractured Memories as Giddy-on’s Bible. We can put one in every hotel room! Thank you to Book Nation by Jen for a fantastic review. It’s so generous! Click here to read it, then take some time to read some other reviews on her site and maybe find more great books to pick up!

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

book-cover-1

Jenny Lawson Is My New Bestie

12 Sunday Mar 2017

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So, this happened.

Jenny Lawson

Yes, that’s The Bloggess, Jenny Lawson, hugging my book and pretending that she wouldn’t rather be barricaded in a pillow fort surrounded by furry woodland creatures. She is now my new best friend, by which I mean that I have met her and gotten her signature and forced my book upon her. If you’ve been hiding in your own fort and somehow don’t know about her, stop everything you’re doing and go start reading her blog immediately: The Bloggess, and then buy all 3 of her books. And then buy my book. I mean, Jenny Lawson is hugging it, which means that, even though she hasn’t read it, she totally loves it and thinks you will, too.

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).book-cover-1

Author Offerings

05 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by in blog, book, culture, DIY, karma, kindness, Uncategorized

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As I dive into the world of promoting my own book, I’m discovering tons of other authors who are in the midst of the same insanity. Like with my art, the writing was the easy part. The promotion? That’s definitely the hard part. In an effort to help other writers who could use a little bump in sales, I’m going to start periodically sharing links to their blogs (so you can get a feel for their writing) as well as a link to their books in case you’re interested in supporting an indie author.

Here’s a wrap-up of the ones I’ve found this week:

SC Skillman’s blog https://scskillman.com/ and book Perilous Path: A Writer’s Journey

Cendrine Marrouat’s blog https://positivityhut.wordpress.com/ She’s got several titles available on Amazon here

Allie Potts’ blog https://alliepottswrites.com/ and books An Uncertain Faith and Fair and Foul

Claire Wong’s blog https://clairewongwriting.wordpress.com/ and book The Runaway

Lori Holden’s blog http://lavenderluz.com/ and book The Open Hearted Way To Open Adoption

Hugh Roberts’ blog https://hughsviewsandnews.com/ and book Glimpses

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Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).