Properties of Time

I am ok. Work...so much work...Is piling up. I have a lot not completed, not the least of which is moving. :-< I did get Harry with a decent neurologist, but not before he ran up another huge bill in my name.

It is so hard to believe that just a few short years ago, simple happinesses were so much more easily attainable. I miss the winter cooking and fun I used to have, and I don't know what I want to give Meg this year.

The cats at Eviljob are all well. I really want to take Butler II with me when I leave. He is, for a feral cat, very sweet and happy.

This Guy wants to get back with me. I guess my incantation wore off. The first night I considered it, I had the most horrible nightmare of him cheating on me with one of my friends. It left me feeling horrible. I think that means no. Plus, I don't like the way he celebrates the holidays, and they are very important to me.





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Oh...t-t-t-t-talking to myself...

Look, I must have
A star on my door
Or better still
A door a door a door
Ah, swing doors huh?
O-o-o-ok, doors...SWING.

I just was drifting off when Harry phoned, in the middle of a seizure. I got his gf to give him 1.5mg of her klonopin (one of his idiot doctors took him off the Valium I had been having him take some eight months or more ago. No-one ever listens to me. Until they need me. And he didn't keep Benadryl on hand, as I'd told him to. And he won't megadose magnesium.

What in the fuck am I supposed to work with here?

Harry's fine. Zaphod wants me back. Hmph. I've had to put off my graduation until Spring, cos I have no fucking help here. But I've a nice section to teach in Spring. And I'm staying up late to fix my studies. And my friends, apparently.

Everything is mostly the same. I live. My cats are fine. Meg is being a Class A bitch, but she's overworked. And I've been flirting with a migraine headache for a few days.

I am too sleepy to type, but I'll add more later.

Coolness

I have a new maneki neko cat! It's pink, and I love it.

Well, that's done.

Finally ended that shiteous relationship. I have to sleep, but I'm a fucking wizard.

He thinks it was his idea. No, seriously. Cognitive dissonance will now keep him from attempting to return. That was my worry all along, and I solved it. Go, me!

Ok. Love you. G'night. <3


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Hmmm...

My father sent an email wishing me a happy birthday. That's a new one. I guess he is getting more comfortable with technology. :D He did send his usual hand-written card as well, though. He has always said electronic communication is impersonal. Ha, ha.




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More September

I have vowed (I promise I will explain after December) that I can only blog from two devices -- my cell phone, via an app that is Ancodia-devoted, or on my iPod, also via an app that houses nothing but this blog.

I had a little 'mistake' a while ago. Butsoanyway.

I was working on getting a study up online when Karen phoned. As a brief catch-up, she annoyed the hell out of me years ago, but we've become BFFs (sorta, for me) since. Our backgrounds are really similar (she's even half-Jewish, though she was mitzvaed, and i wasn't), and blah, blah, blah. Anyway, since i am depressed and alone, i took her out to lunch (on the phone; it's a weirdness we share), but she had to go (she is a researcher in my field at a hospital in a major city not far from here), so...I'm alone. I'm eating Chinese (best coconut shrimp on Earth), and I am alone.

::sadface::

I'm fine, really. I don't have that hang-up some people do about eating alone. Even when i don't have something to do, eating alone has never bothered me. Dunno. I'm weird.

Butsoanyway.

I would go shopping after this, but i need to get back to work, and in the back of my mind, i can hear my mother saying 'oh, Ancodia, you will take any excuse to spend money!' Feh...she's wrong. Don't listen to her. XD

Ahhh...after leaving me for twenty minutes, Karen's back. And I am almost done eating. Monday, I tamped down my tears with MAC's Evil Eyes pallette, so i probably won't shop. But i have to eat and get back to work.

And i so want this coconut shrimp recipe!

September

I suck. I have been so drowning...I'm sorry. I missed Harry's birthday, Wildrun's, Ms. Grammarian's...and a few others. I'm sorry.

Today would have been Mummers' birthday. I have been a little -- okay, more than a little -- depressed this week. Mom was the 21st, I am the 22nd, and we always had this kind of birthday partnership, matching mommy/daughter birthdays (I have to phrase it that way because it annoys Meg so). I miss my birthday partner.

I have been working constantly, it seems. Karen was felled by a headache for two days, and right now I am chalking mine up to stress and sadness. I have already gotten this year's flu shot, so at least that's taken care of.

Speaking of which, last weekend Meg and I went to see Contagion as a sort of early birthday thing, and it was a good movie. Meg hated that they fell back on the 'the Government is incompetent' trope, while I countered that, plot-wise, two hours of watching one department head cataloguing viral families, applying for Animal Subject study approval, amending their IRB protocol to allow Human Subject experimentation, then filling out Form HS-2011-65-1899a, k, and p in sextuplicate and waiting eight weeks for amended protocol approval and requisition of military personnel for the Human Subjects phase would be The Most Completely Fucking Boring Movie Ever. Meg countered by saying that what's-her-name who injects herself to test her own vaccine is 'so me'.

Meh. I hate paperwork.

I have a backlog of drafts that I will try to get around to addressing. If you are reading this, I love you. Please take care of yourself for me. The beginning of Holiday season is a bittersweet time now, but with perseverance we will all make it. <3

It's a time to celebrate, and always will be. Even if today is a bit sad.





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Crunch Time

Wow...deadlines all around. And I'm trying to move; packing is hell, and I am losing time that I need to be attending to, oh, everything else. Meg's answer is to figure out what I want to keep, and throw the rest away. Yeah...good answer.

I have to start writing like a mad bastard, and I am just worried. In Other News, I guess everything is ok. I whine a lot. I know.

I tried to do something nice for Meg, she's annoying me with how simple everything seems in her world, and I hope she doesn't get angry with me over it. Sadly, most of the stuff I have to do is, well, stuff *I* have to do. I can't farm it out.

And when I move from here, I may never date again. This Guy is annoying me so that I've stopped phoning him. All he does is talk about himself, and if he forgets my birthday again, I'm done. I'm not giving him the chance to insult me again over the holidays about not being a fucking xtian.

Anyway...back to work. :-/


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<sob>

I have been trying hard to work my way through having a chunk of a really important idea used before I could get to it, and I am having a hard time doing that.


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Freedom and Payout

...just a few more months. December's coming. I'm exhausted, working my ass off. I'll be able to explain so much more in December.

I did get a cheque -- FINALLY -- from Menu Foods for murdering my beloved Siameasle. I claimed over 7k, and received $2,000-something. My settlement was reduced based on the number of claimants. And before you call 'bullshit', I'll photograph the cheque (removing my name, of course) and upload it before I cash it. Lisa, the psycho and abusive (and embezzling) rescuer I have blogged about in years past was making fun of me a year or so ago for actually joining the lawsuit and thinking I would get money back; for her nastiness (she decided to name-call me in PetsMart, in front of customers looking at her adoptables...she finally got back in when PersMart's manager changed; she was the one lying and claiming to be a 503c when she wasn't, and ripped off a bunch of people, including local vets). Well, I *want* to go stuff the money in her face, but that's just my mean side. My measle was worth way more, and I spent way more, than I received, but...anything is some consolation. Plus, I so desperately need the money now that it's ridiculous. I had a much better employment situation back then.

I need to get sleep. I am afraid of changes to come, and I need to compose myself and work miracles, but it's hard.

I have to have dinner with my father tomorrow evening; I hope he doesn't start trashing Mummers. I hate when he does that.

And I also hate that there's no more Television Code. No, really; I was just thinking about that today, and it made me very depressed. I think one of the reasons many people cannot process the difference between opinion and fact is that such is not clearly labelled on television any longer. Not since 1983, in case you care. We have gone downhill since then. There really are people who fall for some of the crap these talking heads spew, and it's sad. So I miss the TV Code. :-< ...and their logo. And I hate politics and politicians. They are all lying, weaselly pricks.

This Guy's birthday was a week or so ago; I gave him a watch and a card. If I get nothing again on my birthday, this will not be pretty. And no, I am not materialistic; it's the *point* of the thing. Last year, I got nothing, except a snarky little comment at Xmas about how he's a xtian (and I'm going to keep x-ing out 'Christ' just to further enrage the xtians, who as a group can't seem to figure out that 'xmas' is not a sacrilegious spelling), and I'm just some retarded heathen bitch. I take things unflinchingly, but all that shit really made me want to pick up a baseball bat and break things.

Pfft. People suck. Except you.

If you are reading this, love you. Seriously.


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Hello, it's me...

I am still short on sleep. In reply to the comment I cannot get to on this app, it's true; no revisions is a total rarity. Further distancing the event from any semblance of normality is that the paper has no faculty advisor; although two of us are ABD, it is still wholly student-written. As if that weren't enough, we are not a member of the 'in' group, research-wise. The 'in' group I worked tangentially with from '06 - '08, but as these were anonymously submitted, even that bought us no gain. Our Gang of Three are slightly walking on clouds, needless to say.

I meet with my brother (and family) tomorrow; he's in town for a week, and I've been trying to get all the time with him that I can. I have a ton of stuff to finish, helped out not at all by having to give in and back up my full-to-the-brim laptop HD. That took an entire day. Boo.

I am going to try to sleep...I'm reading serial murder books that I have already read to bore myself to sleep. I know: it's a sick hobby. But in fairness, I am not a SK groupie, or a skip-to-the-salacious-part reader; I am insanely envious of the pre-VICAP generation of detectives, and would love to have been a part of something so...engrossing. Trying to out-think someone who has the upper hand in what is basically a life or death game of chess.

I'd have fucking LOVED it.

Many of the books touch upon how some detectives' health suffered, and so forth; I love research. I love stress, pressure, puzzles. For me, the hardest part would be having to safely turn them over to the state; I'm more the type to want to drive up to the police station with a killer's carcass strapped across my hood like a deer. Fuck that 'guilty until proven innocent' shit; if you hunt, you get hunted. It's that simple.

Well, in my world.




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This was a triumph...

We got word just a little bit ago that a paper I have killed myself over has been accepted for publication with -- check this out -- no revisions. This is awesome.

I have to go back to sleep; I woke up just a little bit ago with a headache from sleeping in a weird position and forgetting to take my blood pressure pill. My brother and family are in town, and I am still drowning in work. I'll write more later.







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I'm cured...and overtired.

Well, one week later, and I still have fang marks, but I am off antibiotics for my Squoosh bite. Everyone thinks I should be hating him now; is there something wrong with me that I don't? To my mind, that's like getting angry at a two year-old for wetting the bed when they're upset. Sure, it's not *desirable*, but animals and tiny humans have very limited ways to express themselves. I think of how I would feel if I couldn't get the aliens who kidnapped me to understand that I said 'NO!'. The same goes for not getting why few understand that cats and dogs down at the City Pound on Death Row may *look* hateful, but they are fucking TERRIFIED. Wouldn't you be? They aren't so stupid that they can't smell Death. If any of this happened to us, we'd be sad, scared, hostile... It makes my heart hurt, because it sometimes seems like most of the world couldn't care less about the suffering of another. I cried over a Death Row cat who a rescue group was trying to find a foster home for was about six, and he had a hernia. And that gets labelled 'bad temperament'. He has lost probably the only home he has ever known, he misses his family, he is surrounded by scary animals, and he is in pain. What in the fuck kind of inhumane asshats are we?

I am upsetting myself. I need sleep. Love you, mean it.


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Ow.

It's been a busy week. Last Sunday, Squoosh bit me. No, really. On my arm. He caught a vein somehow; there was blood everywhere. Well, I stopped the bleeding and found my doctor (on a Sunday, which was no small feat) so the bite didn't get reported, and am now finishing up a week of doxycycline and cefalexin. Squoosh bit me because he is very unhappy these days; he doesn't like the packing and constant commotion.

I've had a paper due with Karen all week, and we suck; we are such procrastinators. I have to go in a sec, but I'll be back.




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Ready, set, panic!

I have all the stimuli (mostly) I will be using, my meetings with my advisor are going swell, and I need to step up my packing behaviour.

That being said...

I am having to sneak and feed the Eviljob colony; the old property manager moved to Tahiti to find himself, and Management took the opportunity to become asshats over tending the colony. So I have to get with the new property manager and re-get permission to feed and trap. Sigh. Always something.

I had surgery on Friday morning to de-endometriosis me again; I'm on Roxicet which I am supplementing with Tramadol, Cataflam, and wine. Meg drove me to and from, and I already feel better, though the damned Roxicet is wreaking havoc on my sleep schedule. Worse, over this long weekend, I have to tidy up a ten-page conference submission and prep a poster for a different conference. And my washing machine ate my favourite patchwork blanket. Boo.

This Guy is turning out to be a lump. When I was first scheduled for surgery, I offered to discuss what was going on -- asked him if he wanted to know -- and was met with a lightning-quick 'no'. Seems he's a little squeamish over surgeries and the like. He is really ringing all of my 'flake' bells; I am trying to not be harsh and negative, but his ex-wife is a nurse, and some fifteen years ago, he was in school with her to do the same, and working as a nursing aide (or so he claims). How in the crap can you be squeamish? I'm not even in the damned field, never worked a DAY as a medical anything (taking care of Mummers doesn't count), and just growing up as a doctor's daughter (and granddaughter) has ushered me into a life of bluntness and inappropriate dinner conversation. People barf, people shit, people have sucking chest wounds, eye trauma, DIC, and viscera that needs to be put back where they came from...that's Life.

This isn't the first time that I have questioned the veracity of some things. On the other hand, I have had the feeling that many people I have known throughout my life say more than their prayers, which has led me to wonder why I find all the looneybirds. I have seriously thought about this. Thoughte the Firste is that I somehow attract them...I wish I knew how. Other options I find less probable, such as the proposition that *everyone* has just as many nuts and liars in their life, I just notice it more. Since I have a hard time believing that, I'm going with the simplest explanation -- I attract them.

Butsoanyway.

I am drifting off to sleep again; I will have to finish later. For now, let's just say that I am hurt. He hasn't even asked me how the surgery went. He doesn't even know what it was for.

Oh, I'll vent later. Right now, I am falling asleep.









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Shhh...

I cannot say anything yet, so I'll have to cheer here. My brother is finally back in the USA, and will be on his way home to Washington in a few hours. Yesterday broke my heart, because he was supposed to be back last weekend. I know that it hurt him to miss Father's Day with his children.

I can't say anything yet publicly, because that's just how our family is, it's kind of a Jewish superstition sort of thing. It's weird how even though Meg and I are atheists, the years of enculturation still kick in; when something good happens, one doesn't celebrate until it *actually* happens, and it's better to not talk about at all...as if I personally have the ability to make his plane to WA crash, or something.

Yeah, I'm amazing like that.

The past six weeks have been hellish; I taught Summer A courses, and haven't had a moment to think.

I have to go get crap written, but I was simply bursting to tell someone that dear Brat was home from Shitcanistan. Well, home-ish. I wish I could have gone to pick him up with Meg, but there was no way to get coverage or time at both jobs. :( *I* am really upset, but I'll live. Meg feels terribly about it, so she bought a couple Oprah bras for me at the mall near Ft. Bumpkin, where Brat is hoofing into from his plane.

I typically don't wear Oprah bras; that's a Meg thing, so I don't know what they are called.

I really must be upset over this whole brother thing, because I have been cramping up a storm. Bleurgh.

Ok...back to work before I crash a plane.




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Happy Memorial Day

I want my brother back stateside. And I am sooo fricking hungry. I'm teaching a six-week class, and it is kicking my ass. And I really want to get food...dang. I have all tomorrow to work, so I am going to try to get everything done...all at once.

Meg left for Minneapolis for the weekend, and I went over to see This Guy tonight for a few hours cos he has his son this weekend.

omfg...I'm watching Law & Order (Mummers and I used to watch it together a lot; SVU was one if her favourite shows), and they just showed a commercial for Eggies, and now I'm starving. Bastards.

Butsoanyway. So I went over to TG's house for a few hours and watched him play Left 4 Dead. Whee. While I was just sitting there, I was on my cell quietly helping Harry write some motions for the court hearing over the shiteous mess that is his rental situation; he's finally had to start paying rent to the court to hold cos the management company won't re-wire the kitchen even though it's a code violation, a fire hazard, and they were ordered by a judge to repair it immediately a year ago. No, seriously...I couldn't make this stuff up.

But so I didn't get much done today, and so tomorrow has to be a work day. And I know I annoyed TG by not being wholly enrapt by watching him play, but who cares? He surely is not losing sleep over me.

Speaking of sleep, I may write more later, but for the moment, I'm going to try falling asleep.




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Blargh!

Once again, the asshats at Eviljob who can't wrap their minds around feral cat colony management are trying to tell me to not manage the colony. I really pissed off one of the managers when I explained that I totally *invite* them to ring Animal Services, who won't collect ear-tipped cats. Good luck with that, Shit-for-Brains.

Like I needed this on top of everything else going on. I'm playing hell trying to cram what is normally a full-semester course into six weeks, and I'm still having money issues, though it's getting better. And I have to get my act together and get graduated...fast. Bwaah! I am over-tired...just ignore me.


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Happy Mother's Day

To ALL moms, even moms of furbabies. I am really missing Mummers. My life is so...screwed up. I have a major presentation on Wednesday, and I cannot sleep. I will be fine, I always am. Just now is bad. Fuck that 'be here now' shit; now sucks.

I cannot tell if This Guy is giving me space, or getting tired of me. Who knows; who cares? If I can just get through Wednesday, that's what matters. And family. Family matters, too. We're all fine.




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Ready to leave

No, seriously; I am. After I get finished moving, I am going to hit another round of applying. I am back to hating it here. Sometimes it seems like TG tries to go out of his way to convince me that I don't matter at all. He stopped by my desk last night as he was leaving (despite the fact that I was in the middle of something and never bother *him* during work) and asked that I phone him when I left. So I did, and he has his son for the week, so he practically hung up on me after telling me he was busy, as if this were just a drill to demonstrate that I don't matter. I gave him my standard 'sounds great, have fun, talk to you later, ::click::', which apparently isn't the 'right' reaction, because he phoned back twenty minutes later, only now he had time to talk. Go figure. So, to hopefully bring home the point that this is either 50/50 or by MY schedule, I did the Last Action Hero schtick ('uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah, yeah, uh-huh') until he decided to go. I had a shitty day yesterday, my attitude sucked, and a good part of it was because of the Monday night total bullshit he pulled.

This really bothered me because in my world, one doesn't treat someone they care about like that, ever. I do not need family, friends, lovers, or co-workers who do not fight on my behalf; a true friend, again, would have started from the perspective of partnering and protecting, as *I* do. Even if it's an issue of opinion or perspective, starting from the 'ooh! Here's my chance to beat into the ground!' is not acceptable. Behaviour like he has exhibited makes me wonder how he intends to act were I to, say, take him to a panel discussion where my opinions are the unpopular or non-traditional ones (which is often the case); supporting me or shutting up are options. Jumping into the fray and trying to get slaps in because everyone else is? Ummm...not so much of an option.

Butsoanyway, I have to go teach. I will get over this, it just feels like a betrayal and has really hurt my feelings.

And I have a nose/throat infection that is a holdover from TG getting me sick, and I just cannot seem to kick it.

I am going to do something nice for myself; I bought some demi-permanent hair dye and may get a blouse, skirt, or something if I can find something nice on clearance after class.

In Other News, I have found some awesome new (old) community cookbooks, and I am really excited about that. I tried to share what I'd found with TG, but he couldn't give a fuck less, just like he couldn't be bothered to even send a supportive text for yesterday or today.

Today is going to be rough. Sigh. And I have to get moving; more about my cool ass cookbooks, since you, Blog, is the only one who gives a fuck.




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Getting backed up...

On drafts, I mean. This happens periodically. Once I figure out how to un-draft these, I'll get on that.

I was so hurt and angry last night that there was nothing I could do but medicate and go to sleep. After two days of being really nice, This Guy completely blew that all to hell in two short hours. Fucking unbelievable.

I work, and in some respects live, in a highly competitive environment. It is stressful. One of my jobs involves essentially sitting in an academic shark tank, waiting for the next round of asshat to come by and attack. I work all day, virtually every day. In short, I don't get days off from being under siege in some way.

So after I get out late from Eviljob, since TG has been so nice for the past two days, I decide to skip dinner and drop by his house on the way home. When I get there, he ignores me at first, couldn't care less about what I am talking about (so I finally shut up), and then decides that we are going to talk about something in which I have a personal interest, and is somewhat related to my dissertation.

And then decides to fight with me over it.

Now, in fairness, this is essentially a stupid argument; as it turned out, both of us were misremembering different aspects of a movie series. But he royally ticked me off by rolling through one IMDB screen so fast that I could not read it (with the explanation that he 'scans really quickly'). Ummm...excuse me, don't I get to use technology to defend myself, as well? And last I checked, I had a pretty respectable reading level and graduate-level research skills. And instead of *partnering* with me -- operating from the assumption that I have a few working brain cells, and trying to investigate what I am talking about -- he goes on a crusade to prove me wrong, at one point even sticking his tongue out at me in a teasing 'I won, nyah!' way, as if I am just supposed to sit back and let someone beat the shit out of me emotionally and intellectually over a stupid fucking movie. So since I wasn't being allowed to use his computer, I went to my purse and pulled out my cell and started searching MY way. I found out in about two minutes that the problem was that I was misremembering the order of the trilogy we were discussing -- characters that I thought were in pts. one and three were in pts. one and two, and I was not remembering all of two. When I pointed out my mistake, he again declared himself the 'winner', despite his having misremembered/misattributed aspects as well.

So I gave up. Fine. You won. You have proved that I'm completely stupid. Yay. Go, You. ::applause::

So then he starts showing me other movies that he claims I'd like (not bothering to ask me what I DO like; he couldn't name a favourite movie of mine if you held a gun to his head), and finally I get a phone call and tell him I'm leaving. And all the while, I'm thinking, 'I actually skipped dinner for this?'

THEN -- as I am trying to leave -- only then does it become important to try to give me a hug and a kiss. Not when I show up. Not when I am sitting there, patiently listening. Not in apology for his behaviour immediately after not listening to me and going out of his way to demonstrate that I am wrong. No, showing any affection to me becomes important only as I am trying to leave after telling him earlier that I had work to do, and could only stay an hour-ish, and ended up staying two because I had to sit through a stupid argument that I wasn't even participating in, just trying to defend myself from the 'man, you are SO WRONG' attacks.

I think anyone who really cared about me and respected me would have operated from the assumption, as I did, that our memories may not be identical, but I don't talk out of my ass as a hobby, so there has to be something to what I am saying. I mean, *I* don't try to stomp people I care about into the ground and then gloat about it.

Fuck this shit...seriously.




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Really quickly-like

I love you. I do. I have to sneak out of work and save a cat from Death Row, cos I got an adopter, but...

I can't comment on my comments with this app. I am app-stupid. I really don't know how to work this, and don't have time to figure it out. Butsoanyway. Turns out Sweetie *does* have an infection. Dr Superhero is in hospital from a spider bite (more on all of this later) and I saw the good dr who partners with him this time. Sweetie'd anal glands were impacted and gave her a bad case of vaginitis and he didn't check for a UTI but put her on cipro and gave her a shot and expressed her anal glands and put some antibiotic cream in her anal sacs or somewhere back there. He seemed pretty sure that if there wasn't a UTI yet, it was coming and the vaginitis and sore anal sacs is the cause of her peeing everywhere. so the shot and cipro will fix her up. cat vaginitis. I learn something new every visit. Go figure.

Okay...here's my window to sneak out. Love you. Mean it.


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Test

Just checking to see if i can use my f'ing phone again with Blogger after this froyo update.

Good News (for once).

I have finagled summer employment teaching, with a way-higher stipend and perqs than I deserve.

What a relief.

Okay, now on to the kvetchy stuff:

I have a deadline I am afraid I won't make. I'm working on it. Bleurgh.

I also apparently shocked the hell out of This Guy when I didn't stay quiet and let him do what I have come to call 're-lecturing' me. As in he presents a point, I offer a solution, he rejects this solution because it requires . I say okay, because I am not in the horse business, whether it is leading them to water *or* trying to make them drink. He senses then that I know his objections are total crap, so he revisits how distressed he is over the situation, and how I Just Don't Understand, and this lament takes longer than the initial exchange. I have already given up, so I am writing, grading, filing my nails, or something else. He takes this silence as concession, and finally works it out of his system.

Well, tonight I just got tired of this same schtick over and over, and said that I am not going to discuss it further. That we had 'agreed to disagree' (his words), so drop it. This shocked the hell out of him. Then he tried to change the subject and ask if I'd heard about this Summer position, and I told him I had gotten it. Then he got upset 'cos I had not told him before; I reminded him that he had monopolised the conversation with his diatribe (the one with no resolution, per him). Then I talked for a few minutes more and closed the call.

The bottom line is, I am tired of this. Anyone who knows me knows that my silence doesn't imply consent, it implies that I think the person is too neurotic, cowardly, stupid, incompetent, or simply unwilling to accept the input of others and take action. I do not communicate like a girl; I communicate more like a man in that I offer solutions to problems. What I am realising in my senescence is that people -- most people -- don't WANT a solution. They just want to vent or play victim; *I* am the one running my ass off to fix their broken messes to show them how to fix it. It has taken me years to get here, but I no longer do things like jump in with my Batman cape on when a coworker tells me that her car was towed because she didn't notice the County sticker on it because she doesn't drive it often, and now she doesn't have the money to bail her car out.

No, seriously. The Old Me would 'lend' (give) her the money, or phone the towing company (I have amazing negotiation skills) and work something out, or...something. I have learnt to instead say,'man...that sucks'.

I made the huge mistake of jumping in once last year with TG, and have vowed never again. Trust me: people find their way out of messes, and it makes them stronger. I just have to learn to keep my mouth shut and stop offering advice.

Boy, there are going to be some quiet-assed conversations ahead. Glad silence has never made me uncomfortable.


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Home again...

I had fun. I still didn't get froyo installed on my stupid secondary phone, and I had a massive mindwipe out of sheer exhaustion on the way home and couldn't remember the word 'Tanakh' until I got home, but I loved the drive to and from with Meg, we talked about her research all the way there, and listened to religious radio and cracked jokes all the way back.

Sorry if you are offended by the thought of us ragging on religion, but it's fun for us. For what it's worth, I'm the biblical scholar between us. That should tell you enough; we basically MST3k the shows and songs, except for when we can get an Unshackled! show: then we just listen...and laugh. If you are of a (secular) mind to be entertained, you should check it out at unshackled-dawt-org.

They have downloadable .mp3s. :D

Now, in fairness, I actually know a respectable amount about a few religions; off the top of my head and in no particular order, I've been to Protestant services, Episcopal/Anglican services, Catholic mass, Unitarian services, Lutheran services, and Temple (and I was a Jobie and did a superbrief stint in RG if you are REALLY counting), and when I was twelve-ish, I read the KJV Bible from beginning to end (like for *comprehension*), and did the same again when I was about 19 - 22, and I've read a translated Torah once, and have read/studied all 613 mitzvot (and bristle at them being called 'commandments', which only means you don't get it -- this isn't xtianity, where everyone is getting ordered to do everything else Hell; it's 613 clear-as-day chances to be a good person and do right, and from their POV, it's never too late to start, or something you pay penance for, you just make up your mind to straighten up and fly right, and all is well...even though some of them are -- sorry -- stupid and/or hideously misinterpreted IMO), I don't even need to mention at this point knowing Noahide laws, and so on. From back a million years ago when Mummers was forcing me to xtian church (mainly cos my father thought it was stupid), I was made to learn a crapload of stuff by heart (I honestly don't remember the name or, believe it or not, the denomination except that I know it wasn't Catholic), but while the adults did... whatever, we didn't colour and play (which is what it sounds like some Protestant kidstuff is these days, at least maybe the Charismatics? I don't know), we memorised stuff. I still know a ton of crap by heart, only some stuff I know is different from what they are teaching now -- I learnt a different Apostles' Creed than what I've heard. I mean seriously -- when I first moved here, I took a roommate to be social and went to her church a few times (again, to be social), and when they said the AC, I was all like, 'WTF?? How can ALL of you be getting this wrong?' Oh, and I got the 'Are You a Whacko?' look from those sitting around us when I was there the first time and went off-script, per them. Did you know Jeebus *didn't* go to Hell? Well, if you're not me, you probably did. Again...wtf? That's not a MINOR point, guys. Just sayin'. Eventually, I stopped going to any religious services even to be social (though I will still go to Unitarian or non-Orthodox Temple services if need be), and i prefer to not make any professions of faith cos I'm freaking LYING when I say it. And my Eviljob work wife, who is Baptist, says the wrong Apostles' Creed. Well, wrong according to me. And, I guess, Mummers. Though that's one of millions of things I never got around to asking her about, cos she said she was Methodist, even though she didn't go to Methodist church; when she went in later life, she went to Unitarian, Episcopal, and MCC. We never really talked about it, except in a genealogical sense (there's one of EVERYTHING in my family tree), so when Harry took info for her obituary (which ended up mangled beyond all recognition, but I just wasn't up to dealing at the time, so Harry just got the questions they needed and took my answers...which they then totally fucked up, from bio even down to name misspellings), I just told him to say she was Methodist, 'cos that's what *she* always said. So I don't know what religion she was trying to raise me as for a year or two, or what being Methodist meant (to her, I mean); maybe 'Methodist' just sounded neutral enough? I'll never know any of this. Stuff like that kills me inside, and I still think about and miss her every day, I just don't tell anyone to not sound demented or crazy.

So, moving on...

Then I came home to find Sweetie'd peed on my favourite blanket, so that's IT. She's going to the vet for a UTI re-check, and she still doesn't have one, she's going on fucking kitty Prozac, Thorazine, and anything else I can get him to prescribe. I cannot live with everything I possess getting urinated on, I don't care if she ends up so tranqued-out that I have to hand feed her, this ENDS. Grr!!

And no, giving her away is *not* the thing to do. She's annoying, but she's family, and she's hurting. This is the only way she has to either tell me she really *does* have a bladder infection, or she's missing Mom, hating the life changes, and unhappy.

Me, too, Cat. :-/

Oh, and Meg did well today, for those keeping score at home.



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Going Out

Spent yesterday afternoon with my father and stepmother, and got so depressed over hearing Mummers being called a crazy bitch over and over that Meg took me to the Rainforest Cafe after. After all this time, my father still isn't over the divorce. Neither was Mom. They hated each other.

Butsoanyway.

Going over to see jackass...err...This Guy ended up getting me sick. While normally I am understanding if someone didn't know they were sick yet, and started spreading it around, that son of a bitch had the gall to say that *I* made *him* sick. This is totally at odds with the fact that he complained of feeling poorly one whole day before I felt it. I think *someone* is having a hard time understanding prodromal stages and chains of events. If he makes another comment, I'll tell him that he does not have to worry about my getting him sick ever again. An apology would have been nice, but I would even accept 'I didn't know'.

I hate stupid people.

I'm travelling South with Meg today, mainly to have a change of scenery.

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I'm better.

I am still worried about my employment, but I have calmed down. And I received a letter about the recalled pet food settlement (finally!), and it looks like I will be getting back at least some of what I spent on Romeo. So...I'm okay.

And Meg's hair looks nice.




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Wish me luck.

Tomorrow I find out about a Summer position that I desperately need. Wish me luck, hmm?

Today SUCKED.

On the speed-of-light commute between Job 2 and Eviljob, I stopped and bought a bottle of Kefir because I hadn't eaten anything yet.

Then I proceeded to throw it all over myself and my car as I was shaking it. No, seriously. I got to drink only about a quarter of the bottle, and had to race to Eviljob with poorly-cleaned kefir all over. Then I got out late from Eviljob, and stopped by to see This Guy. I ended up staying later than I'd wanted, and didn't want to pick anything up on the way home cos I don't need to be spending the money, and I needed to get my blouse in the wash, and the cats would get into anything I brought while I was getting a shower anyway. And I have literally nothing here to eat, because I suck at planning, and I am totally destitute. I'm fucking *starving*. This sucks.

Then Meg phones and is all like, 'I have a hair appointment tomorrow; want to come?' Um, no, I have no money and a job interview-thing, so I'll just pin my looking-like-shit hair up and hope circumstance and personality pull me through, Stylegoddess. Why don't you do something useful and order a pizza and send it over?

No one gives a damn about me, and even I sometimes have trouble mustering up a shit to give. Whatever. Let's just hope I get this job. Sigh.




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More fun than...get that stick out of my face!

I am having a relatively good week. One of my many managers is pulling his typical MIA shite, but he's got one foot out the door anyway, so I won't let it frustrate me any longer; I'm stuck on a project, so I will just work around him...again.

This Guy (I may rename him Zaphod) is being okay. He has largely been letting me be to work, and he gave me a Caro Emerald CD that I've been desperately wanting, but couldn't work into the budget, seeing as how I may be tap-dancing for Summer employment. More on that later. But TG has been better-ish. He's still self-absorbed a lot of the time, and I HATE how I feel as if I'm not being listened to, and I HATE how I feel that he doesn't care enough to get to know me. But I've had a hard time over the past couple weeks, and he flat-out asked me what he could do to help, so I told him he could leave me alone and give me that CD, and he did. I hate asking for things, it's not like me, but apparently if I don't demand, he won't do; this is the first 'real' present I've gotten. But I won't waste my time complaining.

At least not now. Later.

I had thought I'd been okay with the speutering at Eviljob, but one of my cats turned up for dinner full of what will be more Easter Squooshables, so...shit, fuck, damn, piss, hell. It never ends. Guess what I'll be doing in a few months? Sigh.

I had dinner with some coworkers last night (I know...I just got done telling you I'd not been spending time with TG, but whatever; I'm a shitty girlfriend, and he's a non-stellar boyfriend. We're made for each other), and considering all that I am going through at Job 1, I couldn't help but be a little jealous. I basically got shunted into a less-than-productive work group (sure, my own complacence played a role there), and so hearing about how wonderful everyone else is when I am wallowing in my own mediocrity was..meh. I'm happy for them, but hey; I can be truthful here, right? Okay; so I has a jelis. :-/

I should be working, but I am taking the morning off because I am simply tired. With the ton of deadlines I have had over the past couple weeks, I had to teach unprepared yesterday. I did a kick-ass job (solely because I know the subject matter like the back of my hand and can ramble on and add Fun Facts at will), but it was a tiring lecture followed by margaritas and envy. So I'll get back on the work horse in a few hours.

All the emotional upheaval in my world has caused my 'new' cat -- Mummers' cat, Sweetie -- to start having behavioural issues. She's taken to peeing everywhere *but* the damned litter box, and it's driving me crazy. I know she is acting out, but I wish she had picked something more tolerable, like alcoholism or cutting. Grr. I have had to throw every pair of shoes I own into the washing machine, and it seems like all I do anymore is clean up cat piss and wash my feet. This just started a few months ago, and hopefully it will end soon. I've tried fussing, potching her on the butt, setting her in the litter box...and she just keeps peeing on my stuff. I know she's upset, I know she misses Mom, I know she hates when humans aren't around, and I leave too much and for too long. She's scared and sad, but this is going to have to end. I just have to figure out how to get her to stop.

I also have to quit smoking. More on that later...more on everything later (promise), 'cos I really just want to spend an hour or two lying here in bed and staring at the wall in a bleak depression over the failure that is my life.

No, seriously.

So I schedule my nervous breakdowns. So fucking what?



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Friday

I cannot believe what happened...it was good. Everything isn't okay, but...some things are. Our Assistant Director had suggested that I draw up a timeline, etc., and when I tried, I was met with a lot of...well, hatred. Well, ha, ha. Now it is mandatory. Along with some other things. Yesterday wore me out emotionally, but I think I won. Or we won. Well, Right prevailed, let's put it that way.

And I am exhausted. Maybe I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or something. Anymore, dealing with my advisor does that to me. But...for the moment, things are okay. I can only hope Certain People are interested in retaining their positions and continue to cooperate.

As always, I get emotional, and I get the sniffles. So I've got a mild rhinovirus going on.

TG is alternating between love and hate in my book. He has a lot that must change, and we are going to have The Talk -- the one that involves getting help or getting lost.

I am going to try to sleep for another hour before I go to work. Blecch. The bad news is that I'm stuck, employment-wise, until December. Maybe. I'm working on it.

Oh, and I'm crampy. Love you all. Things will get better, I will get the life I want.


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On my last nerve.

I have to get to sleep, but I am royally pissed off. I was packing and did a before-bed email check to find that a coworker is trying to start some shit.

I am sick of this. I simply *must* remove myself from this drama. I cannot take any more of the craziness and drama, drama, drama. I HATE drama! Why can all these crazy sons of bitches not grasp that life is totally batshit enough without help? Things break; people steal; plans fail; people die. Who has such a boring life that they have to *invent* more crap?

I just find it exhausting. And in this one instance, my first impulse was to be completely immature and just say, "fuck you; I quit", only I cannot afford to. But something has to change. I just want *one* job that pays the bills and provides some autonomy, so that I can elect to not deal with crazy people. Am I so terrible for hating drama queens? I don't know why that pushes my buttons like it does, but drama queens and people who deny reality really send me into fits. And I mean the crazy kind of reality denial, like the person who rages at you about something, then two days later insists that never occurred, instead of just saying that they were having a bad day, or something believable.

Where do these people come from?





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Still Alive

Sweetie is sleeping at my feet. She's a nice cat; Mummers really found a good, sweet cat. She kisses, follows me, forgives instantly (Mom would say, 'what choice does she have?'), and always comes immediately when called. Butler is like that, too -- just a nice person. Sweetie and Butler kind if co-exist; they haven't really bonded with each other, but I think that is because both of them are so human-focussed. Squoosh, Cookie, and Weebie are more focussed on being a cat.

Butsoanyway.

I am behind in everything. Everything. And I am so stressed out that I feel as if, once I'm done moving and have my dissertation turned in, I could just go on a three-day drunk, or swallow a handful of pills and sleep for a week.

No, that's not threatening self-injurious behaviour; don't be an asshat. I'm expressing *exhaustion*. I'm tired.

Plus, no one would take care of my cats; they need a mom. Especially Sweetie and Butler. When I'm gone, Butler is like a puppy -- sad and lonely, and waiting by the door. Sweetie, however, goes into a panic when no human is around. It actually causes her fear and distress. I know it is from being alone for the first year of her life in that car lot, with no food, dirty, contaminated water, and predators all around (plus having the worst case of worms I have ever heard of), but I don't know how to fix it other than being consistent in providing food and shelter. I can't stay home all the time.

Now I have to get some sleep...I have to teach tomorrow, and I really have to get more written. G'night.


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Okay.

I am, I mean. Somehow, everything will be. I am not looking forward to living through the rest of the in-between part, but I have some ridiculous faith that the other side will be okay. :-/


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I am losing my fricking mind.

Harry had a series of seizures yesterday, accompanied by a feeling of impending doom. Just so you know, the impending doom part is potentially a bad thing. If you ever have it, seek help STAT. It may be the only warning you get.

So Harry, against my suggestion, went to the same hospital that murdered Mummers...and ended up involuntarily committed.

No, I'm not kidding; they're treating it as a psych issue.

So I am finding a doctor to accept his transfer so that I can phone an ambulance to pick him up.

Christ on a cracker.




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I am Gozer, The Destructor.

It is official:  I *am* Death.

To make a long story short, This Guy was -- was -- living with a 30+ year-long friend of his. This friend turned up dead last evening, at 42, from what appears right now to have been an epileptic fit. TG keeps saying he aspirated (which is vague, TG is only guessing), but my opinion is he went into Status sometime yesterday mid-afternoon. I am basing my guess off the fact that Friend was not completely compliant in his meds dosing (self-admittedly; i talked with him about it), and had been dieting  since January. He had a huge seizure a few weeks ago, wrote it off as forgetting his meds, and now this. I tried to explain to TG, but couldn't get a word in edgewise, so i figured he needed to talk. Everyone deals with death and loss differently, plus my trying to explain Status seemed to irritate him, plus the autopsy will say what happened, so it is a non-issue, i just mentioned it because TG kept saying he wished he knew what happened, etc...

So I have suspended dumping TG for the moment. And i am regretful that i didn't fuss more at Friend when we last spoke about his seizures. I suggested adding Valium or Ativan for a few months, and he had said he would look into it, which always means nothing will get done.

I have to get back to writing a conference submission, but just wanted to wander over here and be depressing for a moment. This Blogger interface sucks, so i may have a repeated sentence down below that i cannot access at the moment. Sorries.

I got irritated at TG for lecturing me on not posting anything to Facebook; TG has all the hallmarks of a man who is accustomed to dealing with completely incompetent women and has become a little sexist as a result. When TG was lecturing me, he was waiting for the ME to show up (Friend was in full rigor when TG found him), and Friend's whole family didn't know yet, so why would *I* be posting anything??? I've only known Friend for a little over a year; my posting anything would be a total drama queen move, especially at that point in time. But i figured that TG was traumatised, so other than saying 'of course', i did nothing but listen to the rest of the lecture.

Okay...back to writing and stuff. I just needed to vent and be depressing.

I know, I know...

I haven't been a good blogger. I am still in the same state as ever, and am putting in resumes in every ridiculous place I can come up with. I am at my doctor's right now; yes, I am still stressed. I am also still upset with This Guy, and I know...he needs to go. Everyone is telling me this. Sabra started emailing me again, and I am behind in writing as always. I am worried for my brother still, and wishing everything would just settle down; I need peace.

One of the positions I applied for requires immediate relocation; this further scares the crap out of me because I do not know the area, and want to make sure my cats would be safe. I am just a mess of nerves about everything. I have tried to think of the easiest way(s) to relocate...whether getting me and my crap up there and boarding my cats here for a week would be better...I just don't know. I have these spells where I feel as if everything I do will be wrong, and I am just trying to minimise that. And I do not want to leave Butler II, but I cannot take him, I don't think. There is too much to consider, it seems. I feel overwhelmed.

Today I had hoped to be able to talk to This Guy, but then he popped up with more drama; I do not know how to explain this other than to say that to him, I am a paragraph, and he is a book. When he asked how I was (after telling me all about his day), I started by saying, 'well...' and then he interrupted with 'same shit, different day?', and I was just angry beyond belief at that point. Instead of picking up on that, he started talking about an ex of his (whom he calls his 'best friend', leaving me to wonder who the 'psychopathic retard' in his life would be) who has a child that isn't his, but whom he wants to call his son, which is great, except she and her family have apparently made it clear to him that he is unwanted as a father figure. Further, she has finally tracked down the biological father, and is engaged to yet another man.

Now here is where my seeing things as they really are, stripped of all pretense and glamour, really fucks me over; about six-ish years ago (probably closer to seven), TG and this woman parted ways as friends. They had broken up years before, and had finally gotten on each others' nerves enough that they told each other to fuck off and die. Months pass, and one night she turns up on his doorstep...a few months pregnant. She feeds him this story of how she 'must' have been drugged and raped, blah, blah, blah. He is convinced of this because of her description of how she drank a weird-tasting drink, or somesuch. And so then they were back together, but as friends, with him agreeing to play 'daddy'. Okay, fine. 

Only that's not the story as my brain translates it. What *I* hear is that she got herself knocked up by some deadbeat, and after going through a quick mental list of likely candidates to step up and play house, she settles on This Guy because he is a near-perfect combination of drama-loving, white-knighting gullibility who is also too self-absorbed to ever actually sit down and subject some of the shite she is manufacturing to any degree of analysis or scepticism, perfect to step in and swallow this hook, line, and sinker because of the ego boost being Mr White Knight provides. Only she forgot about the part where she cannot really stand him, nor he her. So after a couple years of fighting and psychoness, combined with being reminded repeatedly that he actually *isn't* the 'real' father and so needs to STFU & DIAF, he finally moves away to be with his *actual* son, who lives here (which, IMO, says a lot about how far he'll go for an ego boost -- essentially throwing over his real son because the situation with this othe 'son' better fed into his self-image and drama needs until there was more ego insult than reward, which is when he stepped out). So after a few years of him gone, she pops up with a fiance and miraculously knowing who the bio father is and she proved it with testing just the past month or so when she needed child support from aforementioned baby daddy...who was, the way I originally heard the story, just this Mysterious Dude. Funny, that. It is so strange how money can clear away the effects of Rohypnol (which is what TG, in all his wisdom, has deduced she was dosed with...which probably isn't so, even if she were dosed with something), iddnit?

I know -- I am 'too hard' on people; I hear this all the time. The only thing is, I am more often than not right. In fact, I'd bet money on the fact that I am spot on with this one.

Butsoanyway, so I got really angry that her fuckery (she made some comment that he thought was about him, but wasn't) eclipses anything I might think or feel, and I told him that i didn't care and had to work. Then he sent a text a couple hours later that said something like 'r u angry at me?', and I was just seeing spots; textspeak should be used by anyone over twelve as humour ONLY. Period. At his age, that's just laziness.

=====and then time passes======

Okay, after royally fucking up Valentine's Day by (1) not doing anything and (2) posting some stuff on my wall that was supposed to be funny, but considering he didn't do anything for my birthday or Christmas (not even a card), and then not even posting a traditional 'happy Valentine's Day' on my wall, ended up really pissing off some of my family and friends, because at that point it came off as a very disrespectful remark (basically saying 'it's V-Day; come over and do me'). And after one of my friends told him off (i had to delete the thread), now he wants us to 'talk'.

Grrr...I have to go teach now. More later. 

Happy V-Day That Was

I hope everyone had a nice end to the Holiday Season. I have a longer post, but can't find it in Drafts. I am much the same, working and writing my ass off, and did nothing notable for Valentine's Day other than get completely disrespected on my Facebook wall.

I am just tired. Still applying my ass off, and trying to figure out how I can take my four cats *and* Butler II with me. Don't know how yet, but...I'm thinking.

I have to get up massively early in the morning, but I am so irate that I am having a hard time calming down. So...it's medication time, I guess. Dear Klonopin: we have to stop meeting like this. :-/

I do sometimes wonder whose life I think I am living that I expect things to be nice or go smoothly. Sheesh.



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Old-timer's Disease

If it weren't for this blog, I wouldn't be able to remember the who-what-when-where-why of half my life. I have a post from Friday a-comin', and I need to sleep, but can't. Everyone is as okay as they can be. Monday at my gyn's, I found out that the UTI I haven't been able to shake is due to it not being a 'standard' UTI; it's an enterococcal infection, which is a rarity outside of a hospital, or a person who has to, say, self-cath or something. I'm not back on antibiotic yet; I've been off and on cipro and septra since November, and my gyn is concerned that I need vancomycin or have a resistant strain (which would be bad). Right now the thinking is that I picked it up whilst with Mummers in hospital August - October, and just didn't notice the UTI until after her death because of the stress. I'm not infectious, just miserable. But according to my gyn, harbouring a low-level enterococcal infection god-knows-where (it could be in my kidneys, bladder only, or have spread out by now) explains a lot of things, from my constant tiredness to my depression. Let's hope that's true, because I honestly feel as if I've been dragged ten miles behind a tank at this point. :-/ If my urine re-test comes back with enterococcus, I have to go to an infectious disease specialist. I wish I could sue that fucking hospital for everything they have put me and my family through.

And yes, if you get bored enough to google enterococcal infections, I am living proof that (1) it can happen to non-immunocompromised persons outside of an in-patient hospital experience, and (2) I am one tough cookie. I have felt like shit for months. No-one ever believes me when I say that I am in severe pain, terribly ill, having a blinding migraine, etc., yet I still go to work and do all the things that need to be done; well, it's true. I do. I have tested positive for hellacious strep (pre-tonsillectomy), running dangerous fevers, stayed at work because I was too dizzy to drive home...you name it. And now it looks like I've had some fucked-up infection for about four months. I am not trying to sound like Wonder Woman, I am just marvelling at how other girls start in with the 'boo-hoo, I stubbed my toe', and the whole world is supposed to grind to a halt, yet in relative terms, I'm hopping on one leg to the emergency room after cauterising my missing leg myself, and everyone ignores me, telling me I can't be that bad off since I apparently made it there on my own. This is just a strange world, that's all.

I am grateful for my gyn, though; she sent out my labs requesting screening for EVERYTHING, which is how we came to find out about the enterococcus. It's not something normally tested for in a routine UTI screening, cos it's just that improbable. Without her, god only knows how long I'd have walked around sick as fuck before I turned up with something awesome, like enterococcal pneumonia, endocarditis, meningitis, and so on. I guess I should be grateful; one of my friends caught MRSA caring for her dying father in hospital. She's only now getting rid of the terrible sores she'd had from it. Let's just hope my enterococcus isn't the vancomycin-resistant equivalent of MRSA. I should know by Thursday. And in case it ever comes up as a point in your world, if you have a UTI, a good protocol to follow is one round of septra, if it doesn't clear up then, NO MORE SEPTRA. Take cipro, and if it comes back after that, your dr needs to send your urine out for a *full* culture -- to a LAB. No in-office dipsticking. He/she may have to specify strains or something. Tell them you want everything, and everything reported, regardless of value/significance. That's what my gyn had to do after in-office cultures (basically WBC count) kept saying I have a raging infection, yet lab follow-ups kept saying no infection; the lab follow-ups weren't testing for any and every critter, just the common ones. Just so you know, so you can save yourself or a loved one some heartache some day. <3

And christ, do I miss my mom. Like every minute of every day. I'd give anything to have a do-over of 2010. Sigh. I h8 u, World.

Ok...g'night. I may hate the world, but if you are reading this, I love *you*. :-*



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I have something to say...

Only it's stored on a phone that is charging. Last night was awful, and I am paying for it today with cramps. Boo. I will post what I started once I can get to non-Eviljob wi-fi, cos that phone won't do anything but wi-fi.

Well, it's cheaper. I kinda set the phone that way unintentionally, and realised that it works out.

And wow, am I having a craving for clam chowder made my way, with a healthy splash of malt vinegar and possibly sherry. Sigh...if only my stomach weren't so upset from last night. I'm fricking starving.


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I'm okay

I am sick, but okay. I am still sad a lot, and I have to teach tomorrow and just don't feel like it. Sweetie is sleeping on me. She snores like a pig. Mom used to call Sweetie her 'guard cat' because Sweetie gets very agitated when no humans are around, and sticks by her 'person' (used to be Mom) non-stop.

I am still scared. I don't know if that feeling is going to go away any time soon. I am trying to not be depressed, but I am. I am taking care of day-to-day things, but not much more. I know, I know...snap out of it. I'm working on it. I get scared also when I don't hear from my brother, and I am listening to the news all the time, even though I hate the news because it is so...over the top anymore. Usually I listen only to NPR/CBC/BBC, and I am trying to tone it down. It's not like my monitoring will keep my brother from getting blowed up. Sigh.

My life is so much emptier without Mummers and her shenanigans.

I've possibly given myself IBD from the stress and depression (I know, I'm glamourous), and the guy -- This Guy -- is of no help. He says 'call me', and when I do, he yammers on about himself. Over Christmas (he's xtian and doesn't celebrate a 'Holiday Season' like my family does, and just has this dead space betwixt Thanksgiving and Christmas, where my family always just kind of kept the holiday rolling through Chanukah and Christmas, neither of which we were religious about...I guess it's hard to explain), This Guy had insinuated that he would make up for not honouring my birthday (I got something for both him and his son, who is a few days apart in date, then he ignored my birthday entirely...not even a card). Well, Stupid here shook off her depression and bought him something. And he had forwarded to me his son's Christmas list, which I thought was a bit assumptive, but he had his son over Xmas, so I got him a gift card.

And I got nothing. Bupkis. Again, not even a card. Do I need to *say* that this hurt me? It did. As much as our family squabbles, we are in a way very tight. I cannot talk to them like I do here, but we are really bound to each other, and holidays mean a lot. It's not just about buying nice things, but sharing time, remembering to say 'I love you' to cousins I wish I could sell to the gypsies, and making sure some members who are extra close and deserve it have some very nice things and times. For me, that's been Mom and Meg, and my brother and his family a little less cos of how far away he is, followed by my father and stepmother. I always made sure Mom went to nice dinners with entertainment she enjoyed, that sort of thing. But This Guy doesn't do any of that, and wants me to celebrate Xmas like his family does, he doesn't care to learn about my family's culture or anything, and even wanted me to make a LIST of what I wanted. A LIST!

As old as I am, my father would slap my face off if he heard that I had presented someone with a god damned list of demands. My mother raised me to respond to any enquiries like that by saying that whatever it is in their heart to give is exactly what I want. And really, it's true. I *do* treasure cards that tell me I am dear to someone. Meg once gave me a jar of some strange creme she found at Wal-Mart as part of one of my sorta-Chanukah presents because I'd commented months ago how nice it smelled on her hands, and she remembered. That meant a lot to me, that she would remember me like that, and so yes, I am PERFECTLY happy with whatever it is in someone's heart to give -- a luxury, a necessity, a token of love...it's all good.

Which is why I was so hurt, literally feeling as if my heart had been ripped out, when I didn't even get a card that said 'sorry about 2010, you are a good person, I love you, and hope 2011 will be better'. Or a nice slow dance in privacy. Or a drive to see lights. Or *something*. Even him shutting up about himself and listening to me talk.

And I have to sleep soon, but...I know that I am weird. I was raised in a completely fucked-up, dysfunctional family. We are strange. But I have always thought we were interesting, or something. I have never had someone be less interested. I have had some guys look a little doofy trying to fit in too fast, but I have never had one who just invalidated my whole family, background, history, and culture. I wish it were different. I thought it would be. :(

And after all of that, he was hurt that I didn't include him in Holiday stuff with family (even though largely it was Meg and me, going through the motions), and I had tried at first, at the beginning of December, after deciding that the Famille d'Ancodia Thanksgiving was a bad time to formally introduce him, mainly because of the culture shock, disorganisation without Mummers, and so on. So I thought I would try to explain in advance how my family works after Thanksgiving, and maybe try to include him in some of it. Well, he cut me off immediately with 'I'm a Christian -- we celebrate *Christmas*' as if I were an addlepated five-year old. I tried to explain that in my family it's the whole shebang, that we're not exactly religious, but it is important to us, and he started talking about himself. I *had* been about to invite him to a not-really-Chanukah at my father's, and was trying to warn him that proselytising or making cracks about Jews, Freemasons, or Omarians (my father's own religion, he made it up; it's followers of Omar Khayyam) might not be a good 'let's fit in' strategy, especially seeing that my father is not Christianity's biggest fan. I was explaining that this would be a 'come, be nice, maybe learn something' sorta-party. Well, I think he was still pissed off that I'd not invited him to my father's birthday (why would I?) and immediately made a dig at my father and then went on to talk about himself. I just shut up. Over a week later, he asked me when this thing was (the get-together), and I told him it'd already occurred...a few times. This was a little more than in previous years because of no Mom and Dad's birthday trip to the Bahamas. Well, This Guy was all like, 'I'm really disappointed, blah, blah, blah, schedule another one'. I told him that I don't control holidays or what my pagan father does, so maybe next year. Then, after I got back from seeing my brother off to Shitcanistan, I went to visit him and he not only did not say anything about being glad I am back, but started off by saying 'Happy Chanukah', and I couldn't tell if he was serious or being an ass, so I just told him thank you, but it was over. And I have tried to tell him about my brother (remember, he converted to mackerel snapper for his wife), and one would have thought someone who cared about me in a friendship or love way would at *least* remember that I am a mutt, and maybe randomly taking pot shots at others' religious beliefs (or lack thereof) is not a good idea, because there is a STRONG likelihood that I've got one in my tree.

I just blame it all on Spain; if they hadn't thrown the Jews out, my family would still be there, probably. So it's ultimately the Christians' fault I am this way. ;->

Anyway, it somehow came up (as my eyes are still swollen from crying all the way home from seeing Brat off) that Catholics are stupid, etc... Well, not only is my brother one, but my in-law family are all devout, and god damn it, I've just lost him to Shitcanistan, and after my mother's funeral, my SiL (in real life, I just call her my sister)'s whole family could not have been kinder, warmer, more welcoming...anything. Meg and I got a tour of the Baton Rouge Garden District to acquaint ourselves and take our minds off our tragedy; C (my SiL; I'm feeling too kindly towards her to nickname her Jackie O)'s mom and dad bent over backward to give us good dinner conversation and a lovely breakfast the next day. I honestly felt at home, and I don't say that often. Her family had even driven *to* my mother's ceremony in Mississippi, then we caravanned to Baton Rouge. They were under obligation to do NONE of this, but in doing so completely solidified our family bonds. So yeah, when This Guy started making cracks about Catholics, I just left. One of my friends has suggested that, even if only on a subconscious level, TG *did* remember and is trying to alienate me from my family, and that may be so.

I don't know what to do. Before ignoring my birthday, everything was okay. He talked about himself a whole lot, but I figured that was nervousness. Now, after all that has happened, I just don't know. My friends hate him. Even Jenna and Sabra, the last holders-out, changed their minds after Christmas. Sabra made a big deal out of the no-present thing, and thinks I am being a sucker for saying even a card would have redeemed him.

Today when I talked to him, he asked how I was, then interrupted me to talk about how *he* was. Then he mass-mailed some jackass shit to me on Facebook, cc'ing some weird woman he was with ten years ago, and I was upset because her reply ended up in my mail. I don't WANT to know her. Plus, he's already let me know that I am not as 'hot' as she is, and since she is a mother, he holds her up as being more accomplished. I reply to none of this...he should know my feelings are being hurt. So I put it aside, then he starts talking about her, then says he's getting upset and needs to go to bed. And in all this time, it's been almost twenty days since he asked me how my brother is, or how my brother's wife and kids are.

I'll have to continue later...I am injuring myself all over again, and I need sleep. But...these are some of the things that are bothering me. And school fuckery. And having to move, none of which This Guy cares about. Or so it seems.

Ok...g'night.

Oh, one quick cat update: Butler II is trying to meow for me. This makes my heart warm. :->














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Jan 9th

Scared, depressed. Same as any other day. I have to move. I am crampy. My brother hates it over in Shitcanistan. I hate it here. I just worry over keeping the cats safe as I move. This Guy is no help or anything. And I have a ton to write. I am just really tired and scared. And sad. I'm sorry for not pulling out of this, but I have a huge hole in my life.

Anyway, I have to get sleep. Sweetie, my guard cat, is sleeping on me. :-> that's something nice.


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Happy new year...ish.

I spent NYE with Meg and emailing back and forth with my brother. He's miserable; he is right now at some kind of medical something at a Forward Operating Base for about a month, then he goes to some clinic or hospital. But where he is right now, he's the senior officer, so he says that no-one gives him any shit, but no-one fraternises with him, either. So he spent Christmas and New Year's alone.

This really pisses me off and makes my heart hurt, by the way.

Meg is sick, so she's tons of fun. Tomorrow, I am writing my ass off and feeling sorry for myself. And my brother.

I'd love to go into the Christmas upset, but right now, I'm still too angry. On the Family side, we had as nice an Xmas as possible without Mom, and that's what matters the most. I write emails to my brother that are as funny as possible, I gave Meg a modest aquamarine ring (I am so financially shaky right now that it's tragic) and a Pandigital Novel (white) that I got at such a price you wouldn't believe me if I told you. And that was *before* the additional $40 off I got because I complained when the salesman was a schmuck to me.

And for what it's worth, I didn't actually *complain*; the salesman literally bit my head off when I asked a question about the damned thing -- the whole exchange is not worth repeating -- and I simply told a manager in Customer Service that if this employee had missed a break or something, he needed to be given it because, from a managerial perspective, when this schmuck files a Workers' Comp claim for getting his block knocked off for speaking to some testosterone-laiden dude's wife or mother that way, it'll count as an on-the-job injury. So the manager said he'd check, and gave me credit for a rebate that had expired that I hadn't known about, but he rang it up as if I'd complained about the rebate. And got another employee to go get the Novel for me, cos the schmuck was having some kind of meltdown, and I said that I didn't want to go back there. And no, I didn't call The Schmuck a schmuck. I was honestly thinking that he's having a shitty holiday season, maybe had someone call out sick on him, and missed his lunch or something, and that's mostly what I told the CS manager.

Butsoanyway.

So since I have given my brother his presents before he left, I've been trying to entertain him via email as a kind of present. My brother is usually a humourless bastard, and I annoy him when I am silly, but he has even said that he appreciates my emails. Go figure. I have made up this whole alternate-universe-like storyline about sending him a cat (I've named the cat Al A. Ackbar), and a sixteen-year old Domino's pizza delivery guy named Dennis, who is having to travel by barge to Afghanistan, and had to get vaccines, and didn't want to be put in the barge's hold, and Dennis' mother's messages to him, and I also have a storyline about sending the Michigan Militia over, along with some biker gangs, and I've also worked a zombie apocalypse in there, along with WWII propaganda films (taken from You Tube) of Private Snafu (I'd love to buy the set -- a high-quality one was just released in November, but I am saving my money), the Our Job in Germany one, and some from the CCCP with subtitles (Brat's Russian sucks), and I've also worked in this whole thing with the movie Spies Like Us, and my buying armaments from Russians off eBay.

I am a regular fucking Scheherazade, I tell you.

He *hated* to admit it, I could tell, but finally thanked me today. :->

And now I need sleep. I will deal with other stuff later.

Hugs.


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