ancodia

Goodnight

2012-01-19T22:08:00.001-08:00

I know that I promise more and then never deliver. I had to bump my Get Out Of Jail date to May.

I am concerned about a wide variety of things, from if my finances will hold out to the shiteous state of the entire fucking world. I am trying to focus on only what is local and immediate to me.

One of those things is Sweetie backing her ass up into my face. Just a sec...

Ok.

I do not have many, or any, friends left who like to play games with poetry and song lyrics, and in the past year, I have come to greatly miss that. When I was a teenager, a handful of us would pick a song or poem and investigate it until we had pummelled the life out of it. From there, we would reconstruct it in some cases, with modern or more common meanings. It actually was fun, and if I could ever think of a way to make a board game out of it, I'd probably make a mint.

Well, I heard a story on NPR which reminded me of some old lyrics, and because I am lonely, I emailed Meg to try to entice her...no luck. Oh, well.

Tomorrow I will be drowning in stats work and meeting my father for lunch.

Love you. Mean it.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

2012-01-16T10:02:00.001-08:00

I have to get back to work... I'm late on finding this, but I've been following he story for years:

http://greenriverkillings.com/Blog/2011/01/06/disappearance-leah-roberts/

I have to figure out what I am teaching tomorrow. They have put me off my game with changing the days/times of classes. And I'm already experiencing panic about getting everything done.

There's discord at Eviljob because of something that happened a few years ago. Someone was injured/killed, and now the aggrieved party is suing. This alone wouldn't be so unusual, but coupled with the fact that ol' Zaphod thrust himself into the situation (why? Because it involved a cute lady), I'm in for another round of hearing all about how lacking I am. Even though Z and I are just friends at this point.

I had to change cell phones (company, number), and I'll get into why later. For now, let it suffice to say I will be happy to be leaving when I graduate. On top of that, the crazy lady Zaphod started trying to hook up with ended up with after we parted decided to try to fake a friendship with me and be all crazy-assed. I was worried about her harming my feral colony after she was fired/quit, but at least now, with the lawsuit, I have less to worry about with respect to damage from non-employees on company property.

Ok... More later. I'm getting better about blogging. Promise.

- Posted using the other blog app that I don't know how to use.

Give me your shoulder, I need a place to wait for morning

2012-01-15T22:13:00.001-08:00

I managed to get this mobile blogging thing going. I sometimes hate technology.

Everything is ok. I have a lot of work to do. Somehow this will all be ok, though. I will pull through.

We cleaned out one of Mom's storage spaces, and it was terrible, getting rid of so much. I feel like a louse for getting rid of her favourite set of golf clubs that she never used. They were from the early fifties, and she was find of them, but I have nowhere to put them.

God, I have nowhere to put most of this stuff.

- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

Properties of Time

2011-12-12T04:57:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

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

2011-11-03T00:55:00.001-07:00

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

2011-10-06T13:45:00.001-07:00

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

Well, that's done.

2011-10-01T01:43:00.001-07:00

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

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Hmmm...

2011-09-22T12:05:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

More September

2011-09-21T12:33:00.001-07:00

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

2011-09-21T09:41:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Crunch Time

2011-08-19T07:00:00.001-07:00

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. :-/

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

2011-08-09T01:22:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Freedom and Payout

2011-08-06T01:11:00.001-07:00

...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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Hello, it's me...

2011-07-25T23:21:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

This was a triumph...

2011-07-25T03:04:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I'm cured...and overtired.

2011-07-12T01:19:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Ow.

2011-07-10T10:30:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Ready, set, panic!

2011-07-03T02:41:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Shhh...

2011-06-20T12:23:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy Memorial Day

2011-05-29T23:48:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Blargh!

2011-05-17T21:45:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T02:08:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Ready to leave

2011-04-27T05:14:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Getting backed up...

2011-04-26T04:56:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Really quickly-like

2011-04-22T10:04:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Test

2011-04-19T04:44:00.001-07:00

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

Good News (for once).

2011-04-19T00:37:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Home again...

2011-04-18T01:25:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Going Out

2011-04-17T08:51:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I'm better.

2011-04-15T22:41:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Wish me luck.

2011-04-14T23:27:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

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

2011-04-14T05:34:00.001-07:00

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?

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Friday

2011-03-26T04:35:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

On my last nerve.

2011-03-25T01:16:00.001-07:00

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

2011-03-15T23:29:00.001-07:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Okay.

2011-03-01T00:41:00.001-08:00

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.

2011-02-22T02:32:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I am Gozer, The Destructor.

2011-02-17T09:30:00.001-08:00

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...

2011-02-16T07:24:00.001-08:00

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

2011-02-14T23:33:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Old-timer's Disease

2011-02-02T02:26:00.001-08:00

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*. :-*

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I have something to say...

2011-01-29T06:25:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I'm okay

2011-01-19T01:32:00.001-08:00

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. :->

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Jan 9th

2011-01-08T22:40:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy new year...ish.

2011-01-02T02:14:00.001-08:00

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.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy New Year

2010-12-31T10:40:00.001-08:00

I am at Eviljob, taking a break. I'll get off later tonight and have pizza with Meg, then I have to make her think it's her idea to go out somewhere nice tomorrow, just the two of us. I am broke, and she's not much better off (financially, 2010 has kicked our collective asses), but I *want* to go do something, damn it.

Gah....more later.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

So they say it's Christmas time.

2010-12-24T06:30:00.001-08:00

My personal favourite part of Christmas so far is the zombie apocalypse nightmares where Mom, Meg, my brother and I are in someone's house in another city and the power is still on, then Meg and Brat leave to get food and leave me with Mom, and as I woke up this morning, I was shopping with Mummers in another city where the outbreak hadn't hit yet and Meg and Brat still hadn't shown back up.

For some reason, this dream has really upset me. And I don't know where anyone else was. Pfft. Like, merry Christmas.

I am getting really heavily depressed over Mom's death and my brother's deployment.

I suck at keeping in contact with anyone anymore. It isn't just you, blog. My plan is simply to have a good day today and tomorrow. And to feed the cats at Eviljob. They haven't been liking the weather, but they are okay.

I wrote something last night at work, then forgot to post it 'cos This Guy cannot seem to understand that I want to be left alone. so what I wrote is below:

At the moment, which is eight-ish p.m., I am at work. This is unfair for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I just yesterday finished a conference proposal that appears to be a watershed in my career (as if anyone but myself gave a damn). This is the first of many which will not be undersigned by She Who Hath No Name, and I am not overly upset by this. I guess that makes me a free agent, if not yet an actual professional.

I have excelled for years at being an actual unprofessional, however.

Lawd, I am funny. It’s why you love me.

Butsoanyway.

So I (we, but I am not discussing this part at this time) got it in, and so that’s good. This morning, I had what I hope is my last physician’s appointment of 2010, only to find that I have a UTI that I cannot seem to shake. So after two rounds of Bactrim, I am on Cipro. Sigh.

And there is someone here who has their radio on xmas carols just loud enough for me to hear only certain parts of each song; one of the songs being played frequently – from this distance – has this theremin-like, repetitive whistling sound…sort of like xmas carols for aliens, or something. It’s kind of cool. I was, in fact, just sitting here thinking about how cool it would be in a dystopian-type way, and was halfway thinking about writing a story about it when I remembered that I haven’t any free time these days. Bleurgh.

Oh, and before anyone decides to get offended at ‘xmas’, please, please, please go look at Paul Brians’ errors page. Thank you.

Butsoanyway.

So I am all crampy and crappy, and will have to go in a bit, but in the meantime…

Ummm…in the meantime, I’m here. Brill.

I am still not finished with holiday shopping, but I really don’t give a damn; I am so depressed still that I cannot see straight. I am forcing Meg to go with me tomorrow and Saturday so I won’t be alone, but it will not be the same without Mummers. And I do not feel like being with my father. I will admit this here, and nowhere else. I know he is, as we all are, not long for this world, and my stepmother was diagnosed with MS this year also (I may have failed to mention that here – she went blind in one eye, and was diagnosed. Apparently she has had previous episodes and not noticed, from what her doctor said. Now the good news of this is that, because of her age, it is highly likely that she will be largely asymptomatic for the remainder of her life now that she is taking appropriate medication. The bad news is that, well, she has MS.), but…I just do not feel like it, especially if he is going to go off on a tirade about how terrible Mummers is, which is what he did the time before the last time that I visited him. So I am a crappy daughter. Meh.

----------------

I just don't feel like finishing. Here's hoping we all have a good couple of days.

<3

2010-12-21T22:48:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to share.

Some things are better

2010-12-09T23:40:00.001-08:00

Well, i asked to be repayed and i'm told that i will be. Tomorrow. We shall see.

In Other News, Sabra is batshit still. She posted some crap in (bad) Russian...she is losing her crackers.

Of all the things i have applied for, is it wrong for me to have been reflecting today that teaching in UT wouldn't be so bad?

Sigh. Time for sleep. I have been put on a low dose of Ativan and start a new blood pressure pill in the morning, even though my diastolic was in the low 90's. Doc says that even if that's stress (and i believe it is), it's too high. So i was moved to Metoprolol, and I cried. Mummers took Metoprolol. That's when Doc wrote the prescription for Ativan at night. So i cried more...Mom took Ativan in hospital and was allergic to it (seniors and children tend to exhibit paradoxical reactions to some drugs -- instead of calming them, it agitates them, or instead of wiring them up, it calms them down), though I didn't know Mom was allergic to it (okay, exhibiting a paradoxical reaction; 'allergic' is easier) when they were giving it to her at first. We didn't know until one Bright Cookie MICU nurse thought that 2mg Ativan was too much for Mom and gave her 0.05mg -- Mom was up all night, upset. The 2mg was agitating her as well, but it was also knocking her mostly out. On the nurse's recommendation, we requested it be pulled and listed as an allergy.

In case you ever need to know, a good go-to for seniors (or anyone exhibiting a paradoxical reaction) is Haldol. I guess I don't need this information any more.

Doc says at this rate, i'm not getting off the blood pressure meds any time soon.

Flustrated!

2010-12-09T00:48:00.001-08:00

Yes, that's right; I am appropriating the non-word 'flustrated' to describe the feeling one has when a grammar nazi (or nazis) cannot get past the your/you're or they're/their kind of mistakes under any circumstances.

I mean, do you honestly mean to tell me that if your little child hand-wrote a card for you which said 'YOUR THE BEST MOM (or Dad)', that you would sit the kid down and talk to them about their grammar? What if it were a Special Ed kid? What if it were just some random app-writing fucknut on Facebook?

One of my really dear friends sent a hug to me on Facebook that contained a your/you're swap. It's not been two hours, and already I have two comments (one of them is a cousin ::hangs head::) trying to show off how 'smart' they are by pointing out the error.

How. Fucking. Rude.

I hate pedants. I make fun of mistakes, but I don't have the urge to invariably piss on *everyone's* parade just to show how so-called intelligent I am. Especially right now -- with both of them fully aware my life is Hell -- when I actually *am* grateful that ANYONE would take two minutes to do something nice for me...it just makes me rage.

It makes me FLUSTRATED. So there. Nyah. I have just proclaimed 'flustrated' to be a real word.

I would have gone off on them on my wall, but I have, like, dignity.

Butsoanyway.

I had an SRP this morning, and I am *still* in pain. I have a ton to write, and am dreading my brother leaving.

Yes, that's right: I'm still scared.
If I didn't have Karen, I don't know what I would do; I haven't felt like talking much, but she lost both parents when she was in her early twenties (both to cancer), and knows how cast-adrift I am feeling.

Lord...I am falling asleep. Hugs, love, and hopefully no flustration. <3

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

It's Xmas...for Hitler... o/~

2010-12-06T22:42:00.001-08:00

I am okay. Still depressed, nervous, and scared, but okay. My brother leaves for his deployment weekend after next, and I am really wondering what else could possibly happen to make this the worst Holiday Season EVER.

I am sure They'll think of something.

I am only treading water in the classes I am teaching; I am behind in making MOAR changes to my writing. I feel as if my job applications have turned into hail mary passes. Most of my friends are tired of my depression, so I have been staying quiet.

I still miss Mom and think about her every day. I still cry every day. I got invited to go see Tron Legacy weekend after next, and turned it down because I am cutting back so far in my budget and because that is the weekend that my brother leaves, and I don't think I am going to feel like doing anything, anyway. As far as I know, after I see him this weekend, I may never see him -- alive -- again. I will enter into six months of constant terror that something has happened, and I just haven't heard yet. And the way I expect things to go, it won't be for just six months.

And I know this has become tedious to hear...it has become tedious to LIVE. And I don't know how to make it all stop.

I don't know why anyone would want to be still reading this, but I guess I apologise in advance. I must have been a very bad person in a previous life. ::smirk::

And I *am* sorry about being depressing; I hate it, too.

In Other News, the cats are fine (Sweetie, my newfound sleep-buddy, is right beside me), and at Eviljob, Butler II is trying hard to learn to meow at me. He's a sweet cat. I wish I could take him.

Sabra is literally insane; I have been avoiding her like the plague. This person she's decided is The One is a former *student* of hers (this is a very bad area, ethically; it's generally a good idea to not get involved in that way with students), and it turns out that he is *engaged*. So...I am totally avoiding her. She is talking crazy, and...I just cannot deal right now.

This Guy is being sort of okay, but largely no support whatsoever. I tried to talk to him tonight about my brother, and he kept changing the subject back to him. I am tired of it. I almost told him to just quit phoning me, but I held off because I don't want to make a decision out of anger or hurt, and it seems like that is all I feel anymore.

I have to change things. I have to change EVERYTHING. I just don't know how to yet. And I hate feeling like this.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Running away

2010-12-01T13:38:00.001-08:00

I had to get out of the house for an hour, so I am up at this Mom & Pop seafood place that is cheap-but-annoying. I'm meeting Harry and then it's back to writing. When I finish this one project, I'm starting on a personal project while I continue to submit applications and crap. The xmas carols are going in here, and I honestly think I like this place cos it reminds me of a place I used to go sometimes when I was up North. Really similar decor, layout, etc...

Ok...gotta go.

Grr.

2010-12-01T08:19:00.001-08:00

So last night was another one of those nights where I don't sleep a wink, obsessing over everything from my finances to Mummers to my brother. And yes, I took pills; they stopped working at least a month ago. I won't take sleeping pills, but I did take clonazepam, and I at least stopped crying. This is how it goes every night.

Did I tell you that I'd been put on blood pressure meds? Well, when Mom was being murdered, I was (I know; shocking). Well, on Sunday, as I was trying to get stuff written, my lip swelled up like a collagen injection nightmare. I could breathe okay, but took 50mg Benadryl just in case. I tried to keep working, but my lip was getting so big that I was looking like Bubba, from Forrest Gump. So I raced to a walk-in clinic run by the hospital that murdered my mother (they have a monopoly here), and was diagnosed with an ACE inhibitor allergy and told to discontinue lisinopril immediately. So I did, and...::drum roll::...my blood pressure is normal. Still. Word to the wise, don't just jump on blood pressure meds after one or two readings, especially if you have major stress in your life. That shit can kill you if you 1) don't need it or 2) are allergic. Just sayin'.

Now I am debating what to do...writing, nap, or...well, those are really my only choices. I have today off from Eviljob, so I'm leaning towards a nap first. I am really having trouble regulating my sleep, but I won't take sleeping pills, ever. They don't help. And they almost killed Mom in the rehab centre.

I have just one small portion to finish on this one project, but it always seems insurmountable at that stage, you know? I'm hoping I can muster up some of that despair that keeps me up at night after an hour of sleep. And I don't write past about one a.m.; I do try to gear down and all, but I turn off the lights and no matter how tired I am, my brain kicks on. I honestly get on my iPod and do stuff just to not feel so alone. Maybe I'll start taking melatonin.

Okay...work or sleep time, followed by sleep or work time. Sigh.

And I haven't even told you about what needless stress This Guy is being. On Sunday, as I'm freaking out over deadlines and my lip, his car died cos he didn't change the timing belt. To me, that counts as a personal oops. Learn better next time. But he phones me as if I am supposed to do anything about it, so I just played Stupid Girl and didn't help him fix it -- no tow, nothing. He's a big boy, older than me, and needs to clean up his own messes, and I refuse to get sucked into his drama. No one rescues me, for fuck's sake.

Anyway, so I am a shitty person. And I don't care.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Welcome December...

2010-12-01T00:07:00.001-08:00

I think I won't be okay until I get a job. You know -- the Career one, not the 212 other things I do. And yeah, I am a little freaked out. And I'm not over Mom, and I am terrified that I am about to lose my brother. So yeah, I am not all Christmassy yet. :-/

I'm depressed and scared, and it's hard to keep up this front of holding it together when I'm not. Meg isn't much better emotionally, nor is my brother, but they aren't in the mess I am in financially, either. After the spur-of-the moment death expenses, none of us are planning any cruises in the near future (the three of us had to divide the cost because Mom's Master Plan involved not ever dying, so she had nothing planned), but after paying to get my car in shape earlier this year so that I could drive her two hours to chemotherapy, the funeral killed me. And I'm not asking for money, so don't. This is where I talk honestly, so there. Things aren't good.

It may be September-ish before I am employed...it will probably be then, *if* then. And I'm scared. And before Mom went in hospital the first time -- in August -- I did something really stupid; I lent someone money for a new car battery ($100, not counting the 'core charge' of $12 that I never got back either), and then I lent them tuition money ($1180) that I was assured I would get back in September. Well, when I asked at the beginning of November how that 'paying me back' thing was going, I was assured I'd get my $1,000. Somehow what *I* am considering a $1,300 debt became a $1,000 one that I still don't have back. I hate it when people act this way, and were Mom alive (and were I to tell her about it), she would be disgusted with me and probably quote 'neither a borrower, nor a lender be'. Several times. So I'm a goose, true. Never again, though. Never, ever again.

It sucks so badly that good people with honest hearts end up getting fucked. It seems at times that the only way to survive is to cut everyone away and focus only on saving oneself. I am not worried about any kind of karmic repercussions, as Karma never seems to get around to kicking the asses of my foes. Sigh.

I was told on Monday that I look like Death, and that's not the first time someone's told me that. It's not meant in a bad way, they meant Gaiman's personification of Death (on my To Read list, if ever time allows, and I'll try to attach 'the' drawing if I can here, it's one drawing in particular; if someone Nagled me, this'd be close) but...if I were she, I would certainly spend this weekend righting some wrongs. No, really...I would. Actually, I would be a lot more relaxed if I were Death. I'd not have taken Mom, and I'd know my cats and brother will be okay, too. Meg as well, for that matter. And then I would go after Evildoers and try to help people. Being Death would rock...at least the way *I* would do it. I've no clue if Gaiman's Death is half as cool as me. Probably not; when on my game, I can be pretty freaking cool. :->

Hugs and love this season. If you are reading this, I <3 you. Do good things.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy-ish Squooshgiving

2010-11-24T12:45:00.001-08:00

It's one month since Mom died, and I don't feel a bit better. Just in case anyone is keeping track.

Squoosh has a vet appointment today, and I can't tell if this lump has shrunk, which I guess means it hasn't.

I can't sleep much anymore, and I am depressed. And This Guy, who can't be bothered to offer support or anything on my Facebook wall (not that I care, but my point is...), has to make a big deal about my posting something about having a procedure and how I didn't tell him, as if he's my fucking HMO or something. And I *had* told him, he was just too busy rambling on about himself to listen. As usual. And what really enraged me was that he couldn't even be bothered to spell check, he just dashed off this 'I'm raging' post. And then he leaves a voicemail message with this harsh 'call me' shit because, as is clear, he is so worried over my health (that was sarcasm; this seems to me to be a control thing, and no-one controls me). I just figured that I'd kill multiple birds with one stone, and I posted on fbk that it was a colonoscopy (true -- as Mom was being murdered, I cropped up with every physical malady you can think of, including passing blood and constant diarrhoea, even when I'd skip eating for two days, so what the fuck I was crapping out at that point is anyone's guess, but my dr wanted a colorectal surgeon to look at me, and he, in turn, wanted a colonoscopy). Then, after I posted that (why he couldn't have texted, I *still* don't know; I should have told him it was an abortion, haha; I'm so off my game right now), he THEN starts posting about how great I am, and all this other shite, as if I believe it at this point.

Well, I say 'all this other shite', but it was really only two posts. He has never gone on about how great I am. So whatever.

In addition to writing my ass off (dissertation, articles), I am job hunting for university positions, which means I move, and I guess this situation with This Guy will resolve itself then, if not before.

And yes, I did try talking to him about how addressing me that way, especially on my wall when he has my fucking phone number, is not acceptable. I got one email from my cousin with a 'who is This Guy?' in it, and I told her, truthfully, he's no one. He's in the penalty box, and may not emerge from it in this lifetime.

So my colonoscopy probably went okay, I don't know for sure cos I left. The surgeon lied to me; I'd told him I didn't want to deal with the hospital system that killed my mom, and he told me he had an outpatient surgery centre 'around the corner' from his main office, and stupid me didn't realise it was another branch of this same hospital system until I showed up that morning. They were hideous, they fucked up my IV, and I had shooting pain up my arm, and when they gave me the anaesthesia, it felt like my wrist was being pulled apart. When I came to, it was probably closer to that scene in Resident Evil where Alice wakes up and everyone is gone. I pulled my shit (freezing to death and cramping like hell) out from under the bed, and took two tramadol (pills and diet coke in my Bag of Holding, tyvm), got dressed (only falling twice), texted Harry to go get the car, and unhooked myself from everything. I have a blood bruise the size of a small ant hill on my hand. The nurse assigned to me tried to tell me Harry wasn't in the waiting room so I couldn't leave yet, and I pulled this thing I used to do in high school (my friends used to call it my jedi mind trick, and it still fucking works...go figure) -- I looked at her very seriously and said 'he's in the gift shop; go get him'...and she fucking did it -- she literally fucking left the recovery room and (I assume) went to the gift shop, looking for someone who she couldn't pick out of a crowd to save her soul. I have never understood how that works; you have someone who has been under sedation for thirty minutes, and could have no earthly way to know where their ride is, but when they order you to march to the moon, you do. Fucking ridiculous.

Word of warning: the issuing orders thing only works on certain types, so have a back-up plan ready, and you have to say whatever it is like it's a certainty, so have your Mommy Voice ready.

Anyway, my addled nurse had two smarter cohorts in the room, and as soon as she left, I was dressed and unhooked in seconds and walking out. Then they came running over with the 'you can't do that, sit down, I'm phoning Security, blah, blah, blah...' I told them to ban me for life, and walked out (okay, stumbled and staggered out). I just followed the exit signs, cos I had no idea where I was, and thankfully I chose right and exited just as Harry was pulling up.

I had told him that he had better be ready to get me the fuck out of there (the only reason I didn't cancel once I saw where it was being held was in case there *is* something wrong), and he did, so despite the fact that I was in total misery, I stopped at the store with him and bought a turkey and some stuff for Thursday for him and Cindy. Then I went home and took more pills and more or less went to sleep. I had a bunch of dreams that weren't nightmares, so that's a first, and Mom's cat Sweetie slept with me. We're sleep buddies now.

Sweetie's cute, in a big dumb tank kind of way. She's taken one of my fake Halloween spiders (about as big as a child's hand) and put it in a place I've named Spider Training Ground Alpha, where she attacks it from all different scenario angles, royally kicks its ass, and is really happy each day when I put the spider back into starting position (under the broom, facing outwards) at Spider Training Ground Alpha. The damned spider has scared the piss out of me more than once when Sweetie has beaten it all the way into the foyer, the kitchen, the hall, etc... She's cute. I think she is really in training for the upcoming spider apocalypse. Maybe cats worry about that the way we worry about zombies.

Sigh...I'm playing Words With Friends with This Guy, and I just got the push message that he played his turn, which means he's fucking off at work, but also means he's poking me to see if I'm talking to him yet (I yelled at him on the phone last night). I'm not going to text or respond, though. I AM still angry at him, and not just for the colonoscopy thing. Last night I yelled cos he wants me to spend Thanksgiving with him, and I said no. So he asked *again* last night, and I said no...again. So then he asked AGAIN, and I told him that, in case he'd forgotten, one month ago today, my mother, who was batshit crazy, but I loved with all my heart, died right in front of my eyes, with me unable to do anything to save her. So I DON'T feel like hanging out with anyone, or doing anything, on the first Thanksgiving that I won't have Mummers. Every year -- EVERY year -- I, or Meg and I, would come up with something special to do for her for Thanksgiving. Sure, we enjoyed it as well, but we did it for her -- and I heard her more than once talking about 'the girls took me here, the girls took me there', and how nice it was, and so on (this despite the fact that, most of the time she was a raging pain in the ass *during* the actual event).

And honest to god right now, I'm thinking about it, and my heart hurts and I'm actually having this palpitation/flutter thing. Oh, and I'm crying. I want my mommy back. I would give anything to have one more Thanksgiving with her where I kill myself to get a table at some spectacular event, she complains about everything, and then talks about how nice it was the next day. I sound like I am being sarcastic, but I am not. I miss my mom. There is nobody in the world like her, and nothing to even remotely take her place; even her sisters aren't exactly the same flavour of batshit crazy. My life is so empty right now.

I know...I had said that I wouldn't keep posting about Mom. I lied. Deal.

Butsoanyway, so on the phone with This Guy, I finally got harsh because he wasn't listening. Then he started in with some 'I know you are angry with me right now...' shit, and I cut him off and told him that everything in the world wasn't 'him, him, him', and while I hoped he had a good night and pleasant day tomorrow, I did not wish to stay on the phone with him any longer at that time. I didn't hang up on him (I hate people who hang up on others; it is completely immature, and someone has to REALLY enrage me before I would hang up on them and even then, I will attempt to gain acknowledgement that I am disconnecting), but I did terminate the call after he got in the 'goodnight' stuff, and I did respond in kind -- I mean, I wasn't rude about it, I just wanted off the damned line with a fool who personalises everything and does not hold first in his mind what I am going through. And I am not saying that everything has to be 'me, me, me', but I do believe that I am entitled to some leeway at the present time in consideration of all my circumstances -- my mom, Squoosh, my finances, my brother, my school...everything. So when I say that I don't want to do anything, I fucking MEAN it. And I don't need to explain this to him, but if I do anything, it will be with Meg. Maybe my father. And I am not going to get into the discussion of whether or why he is not invited to be with me in whatever I am doing -- now is not the time; he is not family, he is only on the verge of becoming a close friend (and might not make it), he is not mourning my mother (other than in how it affects me), he had not yet *met* my mother...so no. Circumstance has him outside the Circle of Family at this time. Maybe next year. And above all, I do not want him assuming that I am doing any kind of formal 'meet the parents' (the ones I have left, that is) thing, which would be totally inappropriate right now. So I had to shut him the fuck down on that one. I'll have to do it again with Xmas, I just know it. And he knows and understands *nothing* about Jews (or the other non-White American Xtian Honkey from Germany influences in my life), and even though I am not religious, there are huge parts of Jewish culture with which I am just more comfortable; I have gotten more solace regarding bereavement from the Jewish writers I read online than the Christian stuff about 'baby Jesus loves you'. And even when some of the less-secular do start talking Hashem, I frame it in a non-anthropomorphised GAOTU sense, and I'm okay with that.

Yeah, on my father's side, they're all Masons, too (there are a bunch on Mom's side, and she was Eastern Star like decades ago, but on my father's side they all kept the Jewish quiet and became Masons (remember the generation we're talking about here -- my father just turned eighty). I was even a Jobie, though that was some time ago. I forget at the moment what their pedigrees are, but I *think* it's Blue Lodge and Scottish Rite. It's immaterial now; all my grandfathers are dead, and my father has invented his own religion -- Omarianism, followers of Omar Khayyam. But just like in my home growing up I could have a glass of wine or a shot of whisky whenever I wished (both my parents were raised that way as well, and it makes for an adult who doesn't worship drink, I can tell you from experience), but I was allowed to read anything. Literally. If I could get my paws on it, there was no restriction. So I did read my father and grandfathers' Masonic stuff...growing up, I read everything from Hop on Pop to The Happy Hooker, including the bible. Three times. So I am not just being patronising when I am relating Hashem to GAOTU -- if I were assured tomorrow that there is a Supreme Being and had to guess which one, I'd probably pick GAOTU. But I don't want to get into any religious debates, and it's almost time for Squoosh's vet app't. These days, all of the Masonic stuff is online, where growing up, it was all in these big old interesting-looking black tomes that piqued my interest. I'm just nosy like that.

Butsoanyway, I guess I am going to have to finish later. Sorry for the super-long post. And sorry about still talking about Mom. And sorry for rambling, I am sure there's several half-finished ideas up there. Hugs and ttyl.

Okay: this didn't send, so I'll add the good news. Yes, GOOD news!!! Squoosh only has an abscess. This replacement vet (Dr Superhero was bitten by some kind of poisonous spider almost a year ago, and has his sixth surgery to try to fix it today) I'll call Dr H, and he is a nice 'Old South' kind of man who has to be at *least* seventy-something. He wanted to shave Squoosh, to look for puncture marks or a scratch, cos he said fibrosarcomae are very rare, and in all his years, he's only ever seen two on a cat. Squoosh refused to be shaved, so Dr H had me hold him while he felt Squoosh's lump. He said it seems smaller than what was recorded last week, and he could separate the lump from the muscle in all places, so he said that can't be a fibrosarcoma. Plus, and this was cute, as he was pulling Squoosh's skin up to feel that the lump was nowhere a part of the muscle (he explained that a fibrosarcoma becomes part of the muscle, basically), he said, 'look -- look -- this pains him, and cancer don't pain a cat, not this early on; this here's an infection in his skin'. At that point, the only thing missing from the Old Country Vet image was a tech sitting out on the porch, playing the fiddle. So he explained that he'd not do a biopsy just yet, instead he changed Squoosh to a stronger antibiotic for skin (Keflex -- Cephalexin, I think), and explained that probably Squoosh got bacteria into the under part of his skin, through another cat swatting him, a scratch, or maybe even the vaccination (he pointed out that since we don't swab an animal's skin like a human, the needle can push anything under into the skin), and now it's an abscess, but it's very localised. So Squoosh is now on Cephalexin or whatever, and Dr H wants me to phone early Saturday morning if the abscess is all gone to tell him so, or come in early Saturday if there's still some lump left, so he can decide if we need to remove the abscess surgically. But he assures me that the odds of it being a cancer are slim to none because after a week on Clindamycin and prednisone, it's not as big or hard as what they'd recorded last Wednesday, plus it obviously hurts. I'd expected to do the biopsy today, but Dr H was against opening up the cat if we don't have to (his words, lol). So...thank god, GAOTU, Mom, or whomever. I still have a Squooshable.

Okay. Now I am going to take something for this headache that is my life.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Sleep, then no sleep...

2010-11-20T01:52:00.001-08:00

I'm in bed, and Mom's cat Sweetie is lying on my butt, conked out and snoring like a pig. I got Sweetie, Meg took Arby. I was asleep for a bit, then I had a nightmare and woke up. I know that these nightmares and times that I can't stop thinking about certain things are the brain's way of dealing with danger and disaster -- our minds replay over and over what happened so that we can remember the importance (that's our glutamate working), and replaying it all over and over gives us a chance to fix things so whatever bad thing it was doesn't happen ever again -- we are basically running through an After-Action Review to critique and improve our performance...over and over again. I know this. I *teach* this. But the process itself is hellish, especially when there *is* no 'be safe' action, or the chain of cause and effect is so entangled that there are too many 'if/then/else' paths for our primitive brain to hold on to.

Basically, our brain wants an easy answer, and in this fucked-up world, few things are as easy as realising that going hunting for lions wearing an antelope pelt is stupid because lions hunt antelope, and that's why our antelope-pelt wearing friend Urg was ripped apart by lions right in front of us.

And that is why such things as post-traumatic stress disorder occur -- because there is a distinct lack of easy answers and simple connections to make any longer, and our brains aren't really *that* evolved. We can 'learn' simple (and often stupid and meaningless) rules through the connections our brains make to try to stay safe -- hating certain smells, an aversion to blondes, refusing to drive through Texas -- but that doesn't *fix* the deficit in our performance, and our brain knows it...so we play incidents over and over in our heads, day and night.

What I am saying is that I am becoming emotionally exhausted from going over all of this again and again. And I know how it works, but I don't know how to make it stop. The truth is, no-one does. There are a lot of theories, but not a lot of *facts*. And I am still tired. Very, very tired.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Quickly...

2010-11-19T18:43:00.001-08:00

I am okay. I am taking the night off to see a movie with Meg. She made me go after yesterday. I wish we had decided to do something else, but dinner and movie (Harry Potter) are okay. Squoosh is okay, i am hoping the clinda and prednisone work, that this really is just an abscess.

And I need a job...a better one. I cannot go on worrying all the time like this. This year has beaten the crap out of me financially and emotionally. I want a quiet job at a university doing teaching and research, but at this point, I don't care.

And i have to go. Meg's here.

And I have to find a job...a better one.

Fuck this life.

2010-11-18T18:50:00.001-08:00

Squoosh has a lump on his shoulders, behind his neck, that Dr Superhero thinks is a fibrosarcoma from vaccines. Squoosh is on Clindamycin and prednisone until his biopsy next week in the hopes that it is an abscess, even though it couldn't be aspirated. If the biopsy is fibrosarcoma, Squoosh would have to have it removed by a specialist, and I don't have the money, period. Financially, 2010 has killed me. So I would either have to just put Squoosh down, or give him to someone who could afford to treat him (like Meg's friend, who is a vet). I would probably give him away, even though that will kill me.

I am so sad. Please don't vaccinate your cats. It's not worth it. Cats only need rabies vaccines every five years, not every year, that's just a money-making scheme. Fuck state laws. Vets are supposed to vaccinate on arms and legs, so that they can be amputated, but they don't. Dr Vet, the vet before Dr S did Squoosh between the shoulderblades all the time.

Then add to that the fact that yesterday -- YESTERDAY -- my PhD program tells us that we have to register for next semester by FRIDAY, or we get our assistantships yanked. I owe $550 in jackass fees that aren't covered by my tuition waiver, and no way to come up with it in less than twenty-four hours, especially now that I just paid what is basically my last $200 on Squoosh tonight.

And yes, that was after a STEEP discount; the original bill was almost three times that.

And what is SO fucking stupid is that our program just instituted this cos of lower years' students' fuckery where they'd wait too long to sign up and in-program classes wouldn't make. Well, hello, I'm DONE. I'm fucking ABD. I am taking dissertation hours ONLY. My 'classes' CAN'T close...they are fucking created for me ONLY, just like everyone else's dissertation hours. But yet I now lose my assistantship, research position, dissertation hours, and everything else all because of a handful of fucktards who aren't going to pass qualifiers anyway because they are too stupid to follow rules have peed in the pool for everyone. And here I HAVE to graduate next term, and find an industry position before that (to pay bills) which I didn't intend to stay in (shhh), just so I can afford to live, because I have to move, cos I can't afford to live here much longer. And I have lost my mom, who i miss more than i can explain, my brother has had his deployment moved up to December (what kind of a bullshit country takes a man who just lost his mother away from his children at fucking Christmas just to sit in some hospital in some god-forsaken asshole of the earth third-world shithole?), and the way things are going in my life, he will probably die over there, and I am going to lose Squoosh. I am losing everything. EVERYTHING.

It's all already gone, really.

I am just about done, Folks.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

More November.

2010-11-10T23:58:00.001-08:00

I have two hundred presentations to grade, and they all suck. I miss my mom. This Guy has me halfway convinced that I am wrong about him. I need a higher-paying job. I am scared. I still don't want to talk to anyone, but I am lonely. I hate to belabour a point, but... I can't believe my mother is gone. It's like I don't know what to do anymore...like my whole life has ended. I have no one to look out for any longer, no one who loves me, albeit weirdly.

I don't know what to do.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

November

2010-11-02T16:38:00.001-07:00

This is what I'd wanted. Recorded as Opus 4 by Art of Noise.

No sun no moon!
No morn no noon
No dawn no dusk
No proper time of day
No sky no earthly view
No distance looking blue
No road no street
No "t'other side the way"
No end to any Row
No indications where the Crescents go
No top to any steeple
No recognitions of familiar people
No courtesies for showing 'em
No knowing 'em!
No travelling at all
No locomotion,
No inkling of the way
No notion
No go" by land or ocean
No mail no post
No news fom any foreign coast
No Park - no Ring
No afternoon gentility
No company no nobility
No warmth, no cheerfilness,
No healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member
No shade, no shine,
No butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flow'rs,
No leaves, no birds,
November!

-Thomas Hood, 1842.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

November

2010-11-02T16:25:00.001-07:00

November

I cannot figure out how to embed something. Hope that worked. Anyway, I am off Eviljob still on bereavement, and just got back from unboarding the cats. The only one who didn't care was Squooshable.

It is rainy here, and looks like it should be colder. I took a pill when I got home, so I am waiting for it to kick in. I have stuff to write, but it will wait. It would be so easy to hate Spring, why does everything bad have to wreck my autumn and winter?

I am still not up to seeing anyone. I want to make pumpkin, shrimp, and coconut soup. I know, the two don't seem to fit together. :->

But the cats are home and fed, and I may just order pizza. I keep having strange dreams. And Sabra really pissed me the hell off with a post on Facebook about how she is 'celebrating life, not mourning death'. She didn't know my mother, no-one asked her to mourn, and she is only making the allusion in the hopes that it will pique the interest of the bodybuilder she is still stalking. As I said, I am very angry over that.

This Guy swears to me that he wasn't at the game with this ladyfriend, that they met at the tailgating by chance, and those are the only pics she is in. I looked this morning, and those *are* the only pics she is in. So...I don't know. I do know that I don't need extra shit right now.

So I am going to nap now, I think. <3

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Trying for Normal

2010-11-01T20:46:00.001-07:00

I am so sad and regretful for any and every moment that I did not completely express to my mom how much I love her. I hate myself for this.

And I have a titanic number of problems now. Not that I don't deserve every single one.

Anyone who has emailed or commented, I have read them and love you for caring. I can't figure out how to comment back on this app, and my laptop is giving me issues. Bear with me as my life falls apart. Tyvm.

I will try to not whine about Mom too much. I promise.

Missing Mom

2010-11-01T20:39:00.001-07:00

We buried Mom today (now yesterday). It was okay, I guess. I picked out her favourite coat and Meg and I got a cute soft hat for her that looked adorable. She would have loved it.

I can't talk more about this right now. My heart hurts. I miss her so much.

So then we drove four hours to Baton Rouge to have dinner at my SiL's parents' home, and on the way we stopped for gas, and I saw a black cat with a hurt paw. My brother (whom we were following) was upset, but under the pretence of buying cigarettes, I bought a can of cat food at the gas station and asked the clerk about the cat. She said the cat's paw has been hurt for 'a minute' (which I guess is Southern for 'some time'), and it lives with other cats in the woods behind the gas station. A lady feeds them every day and tries to catch Mr Wounded Paw. I looked to the side of the station and saw fresh paper plates and a big round tinfoil baking pan of water where the cats are fed, so I opened my can and set it there, and Wounded Paw came over and ate. On a Saturday out in the sticks, there was little else I could do. I hope WP gets trapped, and I feel bad over not being able to have done anything other than feed him.

If it had been Mom and I, we'd have tried to get him.

Butsoanyway.

When we got to Baton Rouge, we got led to my SiL's parents' home in the Garden District, and then got take-away from George's, which was nice (catfish po boy = doubleplus good), and it made me sad to think of how Mom would have enjoyed the trip, the food, the adventure...all the things she loved.

So now Meg and I are at a casino hotel, and I am sad. After the funeral I tried texting This Guy and got no response, so after we got to the hotel, I tried to phone him and at first he sounded really annoyed that I'd awakened him, so I said I would just phone tomorrow, then he started with the 'no, talk to me, blah blah' stuff, and I just told him I was fine and ttyl and crap. Then I go to update my Facebook status and pull up his page, and he went to...

omfg, I just fell asleep and slept for three hours and just woke up with hideous indigestion and a sore throat. :-/

Anyway, as I was saying, he posted pictures of a local university's football game, and it appears he went there with another woman, one whom I personally do not know, but one who is FB-friended with him (I fucking hate Facebook),and with whom he has exchanged flirty comments in the past (which I pretended to not have read). So while I will allow that he has no business being in mourning, that the very fact that he is with some woman (who looks like a stripper, IMO) while I am away and being ripped emotionally apart by memories of all the things with my mother that were beyond my control and tormenting to me (no one should ever have to hear their own mother cry in delirium for *her* mother's help, for example, not that he knows that 'cos he has, oh, ASKED or anything) suggest that at the very least, it is an inappropriate way to conduct oneself, and indicates that he may not actually give a damn about me at all, or has seized upon this opportunity to 'show' me, or whatnot. I think that when I phoned, he was guilted into waking up and trying to talk to me and for all I know still had that woman over, or something.

I guess that what I am trying to say is so much for him. I am not beautiful or anything great, but I am a human being who feels things very deeply, and deserves treatment better than this from someone who professes to love me. So oh-well.

And so I sit here in bed in St. Whatthefuck parish, a single woman with a dead mom and hellacious indigestion. Bleurgh.

Oh, guys... My mother was so wonderful that I wish it didn't tear my heart out to talk about her right now. I mean, I am not being unwarrantedly nostalgic; the woman was crazy as a loon, and possibly one of the most negligent mothers on Earth, but she was intelligent, funny, loving in her own way, and I wouldn't trade her for anything.

I have to try to sleep more; I took two Tagamet (jes, my indigestion is *that* bad) and am cold...so I am going to try to get sleep. I miss my mother. Hugs and love to you.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Saying goodbye

2010-10-28T09:00:00.001-07:00

Meg is an addict; I am currently in a comped executive suite at a Harrah's property. She has apparently raised the bar for her comps since I last travelled with her, cos we have it for free. o_O This is easily the nicest place I have stayed in, and I know that makes me sound like a rube, but I don't care.

We are burying Mummers on Saturday, and I really feel as if my soul has been ripped out. There is just no reason for what happened. None. And I feel such guilt over my not having figured out what was going on that I do not know if I will ever get over this.

Leaving Twice.

2010-10-24T16:07:00.001-07:00

My mother left again today.

Leaving Twice

2010-10-23T21:16:00.001-07:00

I am good at reading faces, especially if I know the person. For example, when Mom was in CICU before and swacked out of her mind, I could tell when she was 'available' to be roused, and when it would be futile to try. I can't really explain how, but it was a change in her face; when I tried to pick apart how I could tell, I think I attended more to the eye area -- beneath her eye, still in the orbital area, there was a change when she was rousable, almost like the muscle tone changed.

I did not see that at all today. She stayed 'gone' and unreachable. So my mother may have left today...at least the part of her that I guess is the mind or spirit, the part of her that was Her. At least I feel this may be so.

I love you, Mommy.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

My Mommy.

2010-10-22T22:24:00.001-07:00

So far is still holding on. My heart is breaking. My mother is a fighter.

It is sad that it takes tragedy to make us see how precious we are to each other. I am afraid to sleep. I am afraid of The Phone Call.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Today.

2010-10-20T21:51:00.001-07:00

I can't think of good titles anymore. At least not right now.

We found out today that Mom has a yeast infection in her blood...which basically means this idiotic hospital let her cultivate one for too long. She started Micafungin tonight, and I am hoping it does something towards improving her. We are having to fight still to get a paracentesis done cos her INR is high; they want her at 1.5, and she may never see that again. When she was brought to CICU, she was at 2.2. She's been getting FFP (fresh frozen plasma) and vitamin K to bring it down. I --we -- are continuing to fight for her because that is what she wanted. She flatly refused Hospice. So let us hope and believe, because that was what she would want.

The cat she rescued, Sweetie, is sleeping on my stomach now, and she comes with me to the bathroom every freaking time I go. I'm crying. I am so sad that I cannot even begin to put words to it. I don't know what my life will be like without my crazy mommy. I can't think, and I can't sleep. I hope she pulls out of this...somehow. Even though I know that is unrealistic. I am devastated. And it will only get worse, I fear.

I guess now, with Sweetie, I have five cats. Meg will take Arby, and I may have to give Meg Weebie, cos I can't afford five cats, and Weebie gets along better with Arby than with Squooshable, Cookie, Rhett, or Sweetie. Or maybe I will find a way somehow, Ohana being what it is, and all.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

:-/

2010-10-19T23:25:00.001-07:00

Mom is back in CICU and vented again because the hospital dragged their feet despite my raging and didn't perform a paracentesis today. All positive thoughts are welcomed. I hope Mom knows I love her.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Happy Monday

2010-10-17T23:03:00.001-07:00

Things are okay. Mom has developed some fluid around her liver (and jaundice to go with it), an that was supposed to have been drained today, but will be tomorrow. The cats are fine. I should have spent the weekend writing, but was mostly with Mummers. I am trying to keep my spirits up, and it is sort of working. I had a wonderful dinner with Meg on Saturday night, and a really nice lunch with her today where we accomplished a lot as far as hammering out some ideas she and I have for projects that will, hopefully, be publishable. I am working hard on fitting peace and tranquility into what I do. I did skip spending time with This Guy this weekend, and I guess that is going to have to be okay if he is going to fit into Ancodialand. Sabra is, I believe, batshit crazy, in addition to being perpetually high; I have tried to back down my involvement with her because I just don't need the nutso right now. Or the drugs use. How she thinks she is going to be able to steal away a bodybuilder from his equally-buff girlfriend and still smoke -- anything -- I'll never understand.

There is more going on, but I will have to update in the lull I'll have between my final submission and my next round of work. In the meantime, I am just plugging away at everything.

When this is all over, I am taking a vacation. I have earned it.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Uppdayte

2010-10-09T23:57:00.001-07:00

I should update, even though things keep changing, so here goes: I'm tired, Mom is in the hospital getting over being overdosed on Ambien at the rehab centre, and her liver enzymes aren't looking so hot. I destroyed my right Achilles tendon, and am walking like a total cripple. I think my potassium went into the toilet, and I spiked a bp of 180/115 (no, not joking) cos I went without sleep Tuesday with Mom in the ED, and she was disoriented (dialysis pts will have stuff like Ambien build up in their systems) and didn't feel well, and was calling for her mother, which is really something no one should ever have to hear. So then on Friday I again turned up at my GP's with 169/110, so for the time being I am on Lisinopril and have to learn to meditate, or something. Doc said I am better off getting the diastolic value down by any means necessary, cos otherwise I am at risk of a stroke. Neither he nor my gyn (who took the 180/115 value) believe me about the stress and potassium, but whatever. They have my best interest at heart.

I need some sleep, but am up looking for something to fall asleep listening to. :-/ I prefer stuff that is lightly brain-occupying, so that I can focus just on that. I am half-settled on some lecture podcasts, either that or something similar. Hugs. G'night.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

To Catch Up...

2010-10-08T00:10:00.001-07:00

Okay; Mom got out of hospital and was in rehab for six or seven days when we found they'd been overdosing her on Ambien. So it was back to the ED and after two rounds of dialysis, she is getting back to normal. In the meantime, I am getting NO work done, at least not productive work. And I am achy. But the 'mom being alive' thing is of the utmost importance.

In Other News, Sabra's launched a campaign to snare a physical trainer. She's cute. She has taken up everything from dance to, well, physical training. But she won't quit smoking, neither cigarettes nor pot. At least not yet. Ah, l'amour...

Meg is as stressed as I am. 'Nuff said.

This Guy may be turning out to be a royal pain in the arse; I think he is nervous, or trying to impress me, but I keep hearing that 'I Want To Talk About Me' song in my head when I am on the phone with him, unable to get a complete sentence out. And with everything else going on, this is the wrong time to be doing that stuff. I am really only able to talk to a handful of people, and some of my support *should* be coming from him, albeit from a respectful distance, as we're not that far into a relationship. Chat support, yes; moving in and offering total emotional support, no. At least he is understanding of the fact that my family and career come first and second. So there's one favour point.

Butsoanyway.

I have to finish writing and get fully employed in my field, that's just the bottom line. And everything else will work out. I hope.

I don't know what to say...

2010-09-30T23:16:00.001-07:00

Mom is fine, really well in fact, and This Guy today asked me to go with him to a football game in October.

And no, I didn't hint at all.

I am behind on writing. All my cats are wonderful, including my feral family.

And I am not sure what is going on with This Guy. I mean, and me. I'm uncomfortable.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

The Calm

2010-09-30T09:37:00.001-07:00

Mom is in rehab, and everything is mostly okay. After I got Mom settled in her room and such, I spent a few hours with This Guy, and it was nice, but...I don't know. I have bouts of jealousy, and I hate feeling like that. I don't let him know, of course. It's feeling like this that is making me consider ending it while it is still mostly pleasant. I have to gear up to GTFO and land my 'real' job, anyway.

More later, I have to swing by Mom's dialysis cos it's her first day in the new place, and she is scared.

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Breaking Out

2010-09-29T05:31:00.001-07:00

Mom goes to rehab today. It turned out that the Case Management woman was batshit crazy -- the *hospital* arranges all of that stuff, not the pt. We had a lot of problems with that woman, and it came to a head on Monday, when she phoned Meg raging and threatening. While Meg was on with her, I phoned the Patient Advocate Liason (functions like an Ombudsman) and told her that if she didn't go down to Psychowoman's office and put her in a straitjacket, my next call was to my attorney.

She did, and we got a new CM on Monday.

So if you ever need the knowledge, and I sure hope you don't, your hospital arranges 100% of all 'lifeline' stuff like dialysis, including transportation. And I need a drink.

I would discuss how things are going with This Guy, but I have a lot of background to catch up on. I think I upset him last night when I told him I couldn't talk when I was trying to write, but I do not know if I care; he has a little dramatic streak which I abhor, and he already has a 'the one love of my life' person from ages ago, and she is much prettier than I am (if you like the Jamie Lee Curtis-kind of look). And true, she seems to be stupid, but...I don't compete. So I guess this will fade away in short order. I may come out and suggest he get back with her, even though it has been something like ten years since they were together. I am supposed to go over tonight, and I think I will then. It's just that if I am going to muck up my life with someone, I want to be special to them, and not end up being so alone. Barring that, I would rather be alone. I like being alone. And I hope someday I will be special to someone, but if not, I don't want to have to be the 'good enough' person. So this has all made me fairly sad. I am smart, funny, bold, I hardly ever cry in public, I fight and am very resourceful, and I am very strong. I am not pretty, but I am loyal, faithful, and trustworthy. I have a *slight* shopping problem, but there are worse things I could do. And he doesn't seem to want to talk about my ideas or anything. I just kind of feel like I am the 'she'll do' girl. I mean, I still am not okay with no birthday recognition at all when I had bought very nice presents for his birthday (and his son's), and then tonight he suggests I should buy his son a leather wallet (I understand that this is a 'bonding' opportunity, but it's inappropriate at this time, considering my recent ignoring), and wants to phone me at 12:30am when I am writing and chatting Sabra up (who did buy a birthday dinner for me, the sweetness) to discuss my getting faculty passes for our uni's game...for his son and himself.

Ummm...I like football, too. :-/

I just told him to text me to remind me and I was on the other line and had to go. He said that he was upset with me cos I didn't tell him that it was my birthday, and that he wanted to learn more about my likes and dislikes so that he knew me better and knows what to buy for me, but cannot be arsed to remember that I like gridiron and association football, which I have mentioned a thousand times. Or maybe he doesn't want me there, who knows. I have too much going on to worry about it, and I am going to have my wonderful holiday season alone, then. And it has been many moons since I actually had an 'official' boyfriend, and when this is over, it will be an even longer time. Like never again.

Because of all the expense with Mom, I am currently not doing so well financially, and I can't afford to go all over and go to movies and stuff, and when I do spend the money, right now I would rather be with Meg or friends who know me. At least most of them I trust.

And I think he has ADD or something. It's annoying, especially when I want to talk, or just be quiet. A lot of the time, he has to be the first to get his story out, and *then* it's my turn. Even if his turn is something funny online, or crap that happened at his work, and my turn was going to be about Mom, how I am (after six weeks) tired of fighting with the hospital, or something. Or that I am tired of eating salmon salad cos I stocked up on it at the warehouse store before I got so destitute. Sigh. It's just that it's never me being the important one. Or at least it doesn't feel that way. I do not care, honestly, if I am important to someone or not, but if you are telling someone they are your GF and that you love them, I don't get why after sex I am at Tchotchkes with Sabra at 2am for food and talk when if he's a BF, that's *his* job.

And I haven't had time in the past six weeks to deal with this. There are good things, and I am a very private person who is not ready to invite him completely into my life (doing that at this stage would be premature) but some things I get the feeling could be different with just a little introspective reflection on his part. I mean, do you think that I am going through enough to want to talk? I do. Enough that I am going to have a hard time being interested in a play-by-play of what happened at his job that day? I mean, I listen, sure, but it is hard to focus on trivial issues when I feel like the wolves are at my door. That's all. I can listen sometimes, but not every time. And I don't know I'd he really *is* interested in me as a person, and I understand that he seems to think that he is taking my mind off things, but...it's not working.

Ok...I have to get to work now. More later.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Goes, so it goes, so it goes, and so it goes...

2010-09-23T23:39:00.001-07:00

Mom is doing well. I have to find a place to do her dialysis once she goes to rehab, and I don't know how to do that. I guess I will learn tomorrow. I will let you know what to do when I find out. <3

Everything is okay. This Guy misunderstood and didn't know it was my birthday. He says I need to talk to him more. I don't want to right now. It doesn't matter anyway, cos I have to leave here and get a job very soon when I graduate, so this will all be for nothing. He would never care enough about me to change or leave here. I found a job I would be good at here, but I will probably not get it.

Butsoanyway.

I went out to dinner with Sabra, yes, I am sorta stealing Meg's friend and coworker, and we talked about *her* This Guy. It was nice to not think for a while.

I have to figure out how to find a dialysis place. Wish me luck...I am winging it.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

I has a sad.

2010-09-22T20:35:00.001-07:00

Mom is doing very well now, this new pulmonologist has worked wonders on her. And today was my birthday, and while most everyone who knows me knows that I celebrate alone, it would have been nice to at least get a 'hope you have a good day, mwah!' from my (alleged) boyfriend. On top of that, I had to buy a new battery for my car last night, and then it turned out to be my alternator, so today I had to spend the last of my spare money on a fucking alternator. On my birthday. And when I tried to discuss this, I got a total brush off. So I'm on the phone with Sabra, and he's in the penalty box for a few days.

I'll write more, but I have to get Butler off my bed, he's kneading the crap out of me.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Update of sorts

2010-09-16T21:09:00.001-07:00

Mom is still alive, doing okay...as okay as she can be doing. I am exhausted. But I did get a bunch of stuff written. Hopefully she'll get off the vent tomorrow. She's alert and all, so that's good.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Code Mommy

2010-09-14T01:10:00.001-07:00

We fired my mother's pulmonologist today; I am honestly at this point too tired to recount the entire day, but it started with my having an outpatient procedure and being signed out by Meg, then (as I'm coming off my sedation) hearing 'code blue, Dr Fucktard, call xxx-xxxx' repeated over the hospital intercom. I turned to Meg and asked, 'Mom?' and Meg dialled Mom's unit, cos she knows how I am.

Yep, Mummers.

Dr Fucktard had, without disclosure, had Mom taken down for a 'procedure' (I get the Code Log tomorrow), where Mom went into respiratory arrest. Meg said she was in Unit X, but we were to go to Multiple ICU and wait. I said 'fuck that', and ran to Unit X with Meg behind me. We saw her wheeled out with her crash team, and I raged at them to stop steering and keep manual ventilation going. At some point in time, we acquired a Nursing Administrator, probably because we weren't supposed to be down there, and I was a little loud. I tried to get in the tiny elevator with them, and there was no room, so Meg and I rode up with the Nursing Administrator. NA asked what she could do to calm me down, and I told her she could arrange transfer to City Hospital and stop trying to murder my mother. As my life goes, NA turned out to be the one from last year's Foam Party, but I was still coming off my own dose of Versed, Benedryl, and Fentanyl, and didn't recognise her just then; after I raged a bit up in MICU, all of a sudden I recognised her, and when I reminded her, she remembered me and actually stopped trying to calm me down, believe it or not. She gave Meg her number and left.

They tried to keep us out of MICU until she was stablised, and I pushed some blonde on the team out of my way and told her that if they were going to kill my mother, they were going to do it in front of me, that they lost my trust earlier today when Dr Fucktard manufactured a conversation with my mother where she expressed a DNR wish (bullshit) and a desire to go into Hospice care and stop curative efforts (more bullshit). I'll get to that conversation later, let it suffice now to say that we told him no. Mummers has been VERY clear on her beliefs for as long as I have ever known her, and she has never ONCE wavered, or expressed ANY consideration of the possibility that her beliefs are wrong. My mother is headstrong like a horse, and would tell you that *I* am a cat murderer because I have euthanised some of my cats (like Romeo, for instance; Mummers holds to this day that I was wrong to have him put down). My mother believes, unwaveringly, that the body must be given time to heal itself, and that God plays a role in this healing, and He must be given a chance to work. I have lived in mortal fear that Mummers would keep Veggiecodia alive for decades on life support for the majority of my life. My mother does not believe in refusal to treat, withholding any curative attempt, or the hastening of death in any manner, be it by commission or omission. PERIOD. And I may not agree, but I am under a moral obligation (and my brother and Meg agree on her position; she isn't shy about stating it) to honour her wishes at all times, until the end.

So she is back on a ventilator, after having unattended respiratory distress for over twenty-four hours. Yes, Meg and I left multiple orders for her pulmonologist to contact us in that time, and he finally responded with today's fuckery. So we fired him and placed her with another pulmonologist (despite my brother telling me I couldn't do it that fast, at six p.m., no-one would take her actively tonight, she would lounge uselessly with time ticking away on the vent until tomorrow, blah, blah, blah; I literally screamed at him 'You don't believe in me, motherfucker? Just you wait!' and hung up on him in the MICU waiting room {shift change kick-out after Mummers was stable}, where I had collected quite an audience, having no god damned idea how I was going to dig up another competent pulmonary physician).

So then I cried. And I tried to think of what to do, and I phoned the hospital pharmacy to see if I could get my prescriptions filled while I thought. With ten minutes to close, the pharmacist declined, saying it would be 'impossible' to fill two common prescriptions over the phone as I walked the chits down to him in less than ten minutes. Impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. I told him he had a bright future here at St God's Memorial Hospital, and to have a good night.

So I let myself back into MICU (I told Meg, who had left to teach her evening class, that I phoned because she really disapproves of my scenes) by coat-tailing some doctor who swiped in, and glaring at him when he started to say something to me. I am sure that he left me alone because I looked like a sweaty psycho by that point. I went to the MICU front desk and asked if there was anyone in charge of this shit hole. Then I remembered my brother warning me to not alienate people, and amended my question to include a 'well?' and exchanged 'shit hole' for 'unit'. A nurse I had earlier told that she had better get out of my way said that she was (oops), and she would finish her paperwork and come talk to me if I would wait in the Family Consultation room. I didn't have any better offers, so I did. I figured I was going to be blown off, so I tried some Internet searches (as if I know how to dope pulmonologists), and tried to think of where I could find one in-hospital to force up to MICU. When the nurse came in, she told me that she was the Charge Nurse, and I told her that I was sorry about before, but if she would listen to today's events and understand that I am still dry-and-foul-mouthed and woozy, she would maybe understand. So I unloaded the whole thing on her -- from the ignored respiratory distress to the fabricated 'wishes', to the failure to advise and seek family authorisation for a procedure that stood such a likelihood of CAUSING my mother to code, and I told her that I needed someone NOW, not later, and if she wanted to get me back for being a bitch that was fine, but there was a woman lying in her unit who never did a god-damned thing to her, and it would be immoral to make her suffer because her daughter tries to protect her by being a bitch.

Let me make a very long story short, cos I am tired. I won. Charge Nurse Rita may wish me death on a stick, and rightfully so, but she fixed Mom's chart to reflect Mom's wishes for no palliative (only) care, because I told her if one more person tried to talk our family into putting Mom to sleep against her wishes, I was going to rip their oesophagus out of their body with my bare hands. And she corrected all of the old doctors' names, so there would be no confusion over who her hospitalist is (we're on Round Three). And she phoned Mom's current hospitalist and changed her pulmonologist. And got him to come to Mom tonight; he showed up at nine p.m. And she stayed almost two hours over her shift to do it (even though I am sure she justified it by figuring that she will be less likely to come tomorrow to find that this psychotic bitch has destroyed her nice, pretty MSICU). When the new pulmonologist showed up, he won me over immediately by asking if Mom was responsive; I told him yes, that she was on a Versed drip, so her alertness came in waves, but if he needed me to rouse her, I could get a hand-squeeze or something out of her at the next window of alertness (I can see it around her eyes, even though they are closed). He said that was okay, that sometimes the family can see because they know the patient, while the doctor does not. He adjusted her ventilator settings, and left to read her history. My brother texted me during this, and I snuck out a reply (no cell phone policy) that I'd get back to him 'cos her NEW PULMONOLOGIST is evaluating her right now...ha, HA!!'

Teach him to doubt me. And yes, if honey (well, as honeyed as *I* get) hadn't worked, I would have tried going down to Surg and dragging one up or something. I don't know. One of these days, I am going to get into serious trouble...I just don't carry a gun on me. You can all see it coming, can't you?

So...she hates me, but I am in love with Charge Nurse Rita.

And my brother admitted that I amaze him. :D after the new guy left, I phoned him and read Mom's new vent settings, and he said they are good. And he said Mom's old pulmonologist was a total tool. Then Meg came back, and Dr New Guy came back a few minutes later. He wants a PICC line run, and I don't remember why, but it's what Mom would want, and my brother ok'd the decision cos Dr New Guy agrees with him that the goal is to get her off-vent as soon as humanly possible, ideally within 48 hours.

I will fill the rest in later. I have to sleep now.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Still awake

2010-09-08T04:28:00.001-07:00

I fucked up on Facebook and posted a status about Mummers' being on a ventilator, something we've withheld from her sisters because (1) it was Mom's express wish that everything humanly possible be done to prolong her life and give her body the chance to heal, and I am morally obligated to comply; (2) there's nothing they can do about it, or to help; (3) hovering over her and shaking her awake to say good-bye would only confuse and distress her, it is a wholly selfish act on the part of the person who gets to stay living, and I will not tolerate this happening to my mother; (4) because her older sister, if anything, is in worse health than Mommy overall, and does not need the emotional roller coaster of progress-setback-progress we are riding, and yes, that is not my aunt's decision, but I don't give a fuck what she wants, I know what is best for her. We are doing everything possible, and complying with Mom's wishes, and we do not need either interference or to put my aunt in hospital from panic attacks or something.

But anyway, I fucked up and mentioned Mom's spontaneous trial (off-ventilator, to see how you are breathing on your own, and mom has done smashingly; she is still intubated, but the vent is being used as a CPAP, now for over twenty-four hours, and Mom is not tiring). My one cousin who is the sister of my fuckhead televangelist cousin seems to have seen my post, though it was only up for about an hour. Meg read the Riot Act to me. I deleted it asap, and being older (my televangelist cousin and his sister are too old to understand how Teh Intarwebz actually work), now they can't 'find' the post I made (I got a voicemail about this, so I know my one cousin told the other to look, or something). So the short of it is that I guess I am having to really censor my FB posts for right now.

I think everyone has my IRL FB, but if not, just let me know. I have decided, I believe, to open my doors here to some friends who already know everything, anyway. I'm mulling over that decision.

Anyway, I know some may not agree with the way all of us siblings have decided to run this -- the withholding of information and so on -- and if you feel that way, I am sorry we disagree on this point. My thoughts are that while you are in this nice, healthy body you may disagree, but if you lived in a frail, 80-year old body that had constant aches and pains, and complained that the evening news moves too fast to keep up with, if you could spend a day or two having anxiety and chest pains because your little cat got outside, and won't come back in, and you are too weak to go hunting for her, so you have to wait until the neighbour girl will go look for you...if you had empathy for that, you might understand our decision a little better. Not everyone gets to ride the rollercoaster, and there are reasons why. It is in their best interest to be protected.

More later...I have to try to sleep, even if it is for twenty minutes. I have such a headache, and I need to be held. :-/ Or, I need someone to put a nice cartoon movie like Disney or something on TV and pet my hair and rub my back while I sleep, and talk to me about non-stupid things (keeping an ear out for when I need to say something, which I mostly don't except when sadness or fear become too much) and I know I am too specific in what I need, and this is why I will never find anyone, but...at least I know my own heart. Sigh.

My boy is doing okay in some departments, but that is another post for another day. Since mom was transferred to CICU in a non-communicative state, I've told him to leave me alone. He also turned up sick yesterday, so I told him to stay the fuck away from me physically; my mother is too immunocompromised to be able to fend off even a summer head cold at this point. I've dried my skin out, as has Meg, switching to Dial soap in the shower to help de-contaminate us, and we're constantly washing our hands, both in hospital and at home. I have virtually no fingernails to speak of from all the washings and foamings. Sigh. But...this is my mother. I need her, and I am obligated to take good care of her, regardless.

Ok...sleep for a bit. More later. <3

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Hoping Mom will heal...

2010-09-07T21:49:00.001-07:00

Mom is a little better, but I am terrified to count this as a plus, because it can all get taken away so quickly. I am still very scared and sad, and I have no one I can tell.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Family Meeting

2010-09-03T21:58:00.001-07:00

About Mom tomorrow morning, doctor-requested. She has only had three rounds of dialysis, and does perk up after a little. But I am scared. My brother, who is even more pro plug-pulling than I am, says she needs more time, and her numbers look good. I guess i will let you know what happens. I am not ready to lose my mother, though who ever is...I know.

And...

2010-08-31T22:05:00.001-07:00

I am scared.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

More mommystuffs

2010-08-31T22:03:00.001-07:00

Mom had dialysis today, and I am so tired that I could die. She had some sudden decline, I don't know why yet. If I find out it is DKA, I am burning the fucking hospital to the ground. I am atheist, so I won't ask for prayers, but please think good thoughts of her. She isn't a bad woman...as if that matters. :-/

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Adventures in Dialysis...

2010-08-30T20:35:00.001-07:00

Mom's STILL in hospital. Tonight she gets dialysis for the first time. We're hoping it will clear up her confusion, 'cos it's bad. She is asleep now, but rouses to mumble incoherencies and then go back to sleep. I swear, if I had known this was what Romeo was going through, not knowing where he was half the time, I would have let him go sooner. I have made so many mistakes in my life, but they have been out of love, and that is really the worst kind of all.

I was a little upset when Betty responded to my telling her that Mummers was getting dialysis by asking me how much more am I going to put her through -- that maybe she is ready to go -- and I am trying to remember that Betty does so much Hospice care that it may be hard to think outside of that box. Betty's a damn good nurse, and I know she isn't that...defeatest, or whatever.

Feels bad, man.

2010-08-24T04:02:00.000-07:00

Mummers is still in hospital. A lot has happened, but one of them is that mom went psychotic. She has two bad infections, cdiff and enterococcus, and the e. faecalis can turn into a meningitis, and basically this is what they think happened, I think.

On top of all this, I am ABD, semester starts this week, and I cannot get a hold of my advisor. But the good news is that I am on the verge of creating a really nice spread for a wrap I make by cooking down in olive oil to near mush shallots and garlic cloves, then adding a little creamy horseradish. Yum.

Oh, and my back hurts and I need to be held and no one gives a fuck. I have had to battle l'hôpital of course, but right now I have to go get ready to melt...or mould...snowflakes' minds. I keep forgetting. XD

I want to take a looooong vacation. And I have been trying so hard to help this boy, and sometimes he seems so self-centred, I just don't know.

Oh, and: I want to take Butler II and keep him. :( he loves me.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Four legs good...

2010-07-25T18:50:00.000-07:00

One of the things that bothers me the most about this 'having a dying mom' thing is getting all the loose ends tied up...property, titles, and so forth. Makes me want to just let the state have it all.

In Other News, Butler II is letting me pet him now. And I am tired and depressed.

Mom's 'avoidance behaviors' are going to be the death of me. She tries to get out of chemo app'ts, and we even had the hospital suggest *not* letting her drive herself (we aren't anyway) because pts like her will cancel app'ts and so forth.

Anyway, I'm watching True Blood. More later.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Still tarred.

2010-07-20T02:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I finished and submitted. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I need a hug. :-/

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

Well, then.

2010-07-18T23:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am -- almost -- finished. I am going to take a nap, though. This has been hellish; I have someone involved in this project who seems to be hell-bent upon proving their worthlessness. I feel as if I am trudging up a wintry mountain, dragging a dead body behind me. I know that I sound melodramatic, but frankly, at this point I *feel* melodramatic. Let the take-away message here be to NEVER work with fuckheads. Before you can get the words 'this should be easy' out, they'll have sucked you into their Borderline Personality Disorder maelstrom, and you will find yourself sobbing away on your bedroom floor, blowing your nose on the cat, and saying 'why me?' as you type eleventy thousand pages of utter shite, because this was not supposed to be something you did all alone, with no feedback.

Just trust me.

I don't like this app, but at least I can sorta use it. And it was, like, a dollar or something. For the record, I am currently straddling three devices, just 'cos 'complicated' is how I roll. And I would wish that it was Winter, but that'll mean my mother will probably be sicker, so...I don't. I think her haemoglobin is low again, I guess that means another transfusion on Tuesday. Last week she took two units, and just even thinking about it is depressing. Her breast is not healing well, Meg and I are changing bandages multiple times a day, the house smells, but it is nothing that can be fixed. At least not quickly. We are following the wound care specialist's instructions, and at least the profuse bleeding has stopped. Now all the necrotic tissue has to slough off of its own accord, and the only thing we can really do is use Enzymatic Rain to control the smell, god damn her lazy fuck of an oncologist.

Sorry...I am tired. Very tired. And lonely.

K...g'night.

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

::sniffle::

2010-07-18T17:42:00.000-07:00

I am so tired and lonely...sigh. I am writing this huge thing, and it is terrible. I will get around to taking this private, just as soon as I lift my self-imposed moratorium on getting on the Intarwebz for screwing around. I have cut off all chat, all anything, save wandering onto facebook (they don't deserve the majuscule) to keep up in that damned vampire game. Oh, and I have a headache. And I HATE this one person I work with, but I cannot go into it here. Let it suffice to say that even though I use the word 'hate' a lot, I do not *actually* hate most anyone. Well, I HATE this person, and I hope they die. So hmph.

Ok...back to work. :-/

- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O

sigh.

2010-07-11T02:56:00.001-07:00

I just got in from what Meg would call wildcatting about...more on this later. In the meantime, on Thursday, when I was feeding the ferals at Eviljob, in addition to seeing Butler 2: Electric Butleroo (who has let me pet him!), I saw...

Are you ready for this?

Oscar, Rhett Butler's real brother. It has been a LONG time since I have seen Oscar...like YEARS. I posted a pic of Oscar when he was trapped and neutered, and my heart simply *sang* when I saw his fuzzy face. So yay.

I tried to post via email on Monday, but I screwed up the email address, so I have included it below. I have a project due Monday now, and I'll be killing myself to get it finished today. For now, I have to sleep for a while. So until later...hugs. I mean it, whomever you are. Life is too short to not allow yourself a little love and happiness. G'night.

==============

Here's the post from Monday:

I just found out that my great aunt died. This is sad because even though she was ninety-five, I did love her, and I wanted to see her again. But she had a bad fall at her home, and her heart stopped twice in the emergency room, then it stopped a final time after her nurse left to go back home to get her living will, or whatever it is that says whether one wants to be revived or not.

And my piece-of-crap evangelist cousin is in charge of her estate. I cannot *believe* he is such a vulture, but he has done it to other members of our family...I think he scares them, frankly. I mean into thinking about their salvation and crap. I hate him. I think that the only reason he is not ingratiating himself in with mom is because she has three children, where others in our family often haven't anyone in close physical proximity.

Oh, did I say that I hate him?

I have to get back to work, but...so far, 2010 is sucking ass.

Omgwtfbbq

2010-06-27T22:23:00.001-07:00

I have been away with...complications.

Don't panic; I'm fine. Physically, that is.

As if everything else in my life weren't enough already, i am adding to it. And i need someone to talk to, so i may be taking this blog private for a bit. If you are an interested party, let me know what email addess you'd be logging into Blogger on, and I will include you. If you have been silently following, that's cool, and I admire your tenacity, as I have been a tich on the boring side for a while...ever since I had a little oopsie at Job 1, which I will be more than happy to talk about...later.

In Other News, Mummers is still terminal. Film at eleven.

I am just dying to tell you what I did today. Simply *dying*.

I can't sleep.

2010-06-22T22:40:00.001-07:00

The Project Gutenberg eBook of 2 B R 0 2 B, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Tarred.

2010-06-22T19:51:00.001-07:00

Had Mummers' all-day chemo eval, and i am *tired*. She'll be three weeks on and one week off Taxol for up to a year and a half, i guess assuming the chemo is effective and she lives that long.

I have to sleep now...soon. have to check my classes first and make sure no one asploded while i was gone today.

Ain't no party like a hospital party, 'cos a hospital party don't stop.

2010-06-09T12:00:00.001-07:00

I am sitting and waiting for my laptop to be repaired (because I am a control freak, and do not like leaving things which I consider ultra-personal with strangers, or anyone who isn't, well, *me*) before driving out to Botany Bay to meet Laura for a ton of rescue-cat cat food for my babies at Eviljob. And hopefully to meet Betty for, as I texted, 'coffee, dinner, or kinky sex with a pooled-fund male prostitute'.

She picked coffee, btw.

Butsoanyway.

Of course, this PC repair place is housed in an xtian motivational place, and I have eyerolled so much that i have a headache. Does no one understand that the entire world is not xtian? Well, the total lack of reading material allows me to blog. Except for this needing a bathroom thing.

Speaking of xtians, i have re-friended IRL (like i have the time to go to the bathroom IRL) a guy from ever ago that i sort-of knew, and don't you know, he's still an awesome person (now divorced with a sweet son), and ::drumroll:: an xtian. Bleurgh. Why is it that when everyone loses their crackers, they find Jesus? Is there not some corelational thing there? 'I went batshit, then found my lord, jeebus mice'? If, then...if, then...

I'm just sayin'.

Mommy is ok; she was put in hospital for breathing difficulties which turned out to be fluid surrounding he lungs, most of which was drained yesterday, but a large part of her lung was still not filling up, so i had to rage at the day nurse to get mom a spirometer and PT orders, then when i stopped by after work, i had to rage again cos she had basically been abandoned for over five hours with a blood sugar of over 200, in pain, needing to go to the bathroom, etc... i asked for her nurse, the charge nurse, and finally when a tech told me she couldn't do anything more (almost crying), i told her that as fucked-up as this place is, i empathised with her dilemma, and to go take a smoke break or something, and i'd handle it. She left, and the same gaggle of scrubs was clustered around the nurses' station as when I'd been there before, way up at the end of the hall, so i just walked around and removed an arm-full of Steris foam from the dispensers all around, and started having a foam party in the hall.

That got their attention.

All of a sudden, room 5802 was The Place To Be; i can get a party started better than Alig, guys. Not only did i get the charge nurse, but i got the charge nurse phoning a director who was still on. I vented my spleen at the charge nurse, and she assured me that she would (1) get mom's meds immediately, (2) change the dressing herself, and etc.; then Heidi The Director showed up and told me to give back the cans of Steris, or get trespassed off the property. I set them down, and told her to walk around the corner away from pt rooms to talk with me, and she did. By the time i told her the whole thing, she was writing down names, incidents, and times. I told her that if i had ONE more burden added to my caretaking in the form of a broken hip cos no one would spot my mother bathrooming herself, i was going to burn the fucking hospital to the ground to keep their inferior standards of care from hurting one more person, even if it meant i was trapped in it, i was *really* that far beyond caring, and i figured they were on the road to murdering half the people in there, so all I'd be doing was speeding up things a little.

Then she told me about losing her sister to cancer, and how if all of this had happened to her sister, she would feel the same way, and...well...she was being serious. I felt like crap. She gave me her number, and said to phone her before i went off on any more foam parties, and i said that i would.

The poor tech had already cleaned up my mess by the time we came back, so i felt even worse. :-/ i sat with mom until she began to feel drowsy (mind you, i started my foam party at around 11:15 - 11:30), and while we were waiting, more bedlam erupted; an elderly man a few doors down (who was aparrently also being ignored) simply unhooked himself from his shit, and got up and started walking down the hall, screaming 'isn't there a god damned doctor in this hospital? I want to see a doctor!'. And once again, the techs and charge nurse (and Heidi, who was still on the wing) came a-running.

Next time, we are taking Mummers to a different hospital. i can't take this anymore.

Oh, and when i came back in Mummers' room (I'd done all this away enough that she thought I had just summoned all this help), mom told me she was impressed that I had maturely handled a situation instead of flying off the handle, as i usually do. I just smiled at her. Why try to introduce yourself to a dying person? You and I know I am about as low-key as Tank Girl. Snort.

And I am *starving*. And i am hoping that my PC repair guy isn't pawing through my porn. o_O. Ok, kidding...but i have my blogstuffs and shit on there. And research shit. Well, ok, and porn. XD

Though if i gave in and became a xtian, i guess i could do away with all that, right? Haha.

Ok...more later, cos i'm getting grumpy.

I has a headache.

2010-06-03T14:32:00.001-07:00

I am (I know; my mother is dying, and I'm all 'me, me, me') exhausted, and I cannot write anything for shit right now. And i cannot get uninterrupted blocks of time to write. And my mother feels understandably crappy, but she won't take anything for her mood swings, and she is driving me to tears every day.

Sigh...gtg.

still cannot sleep

2010-05-23T05:50:00.003-07:00

i am in hell. a/c is still broken, because the tech mom was supposed to meet on Thursday (and missed) had Friday off. the company was kind enough to send out a portable unit that is in Mom's bedroom. the radiation is hard on her, and we are going to have to change radiation oncologists because this one is an idiot. my back hurts so badly that i am cramping. i have no more things to update, i guess. i am so depressed. there is more stuff, but it will have to wait, i don't feel like talking, i guess i am just lonely.

still cannot sleep

2010-05-23T05:50:00.001-07:00

Radioactive mommy

2010-05-21T05:02:00.001-07:00

She was sick from the radiation yesterday, and i still need to finish Saturday's post. Sorry. Classes have begun again already, and i am doomed and damned if i cannot get this sleeping in hand. I am having nightmares about EVERYTHING, from trying to help mom stop her haematomas from bleeding, and i am all alone and can't get the bleeding to stop, to other shit, being beaten, assaulted, every night is another nightmare. I am not telling anyone about this, so shhh. I am on Facebook til all hours some nights, others i just drug the crap out of myself.

I cannot believe i am losing my batshit crazy mommy. I honest to elvis always thought she would be too bleeding insane to die, actually.

In other news, i am still kinda in love. I don't write about this here, cos it falls somewhere in between mom's dying and my coping with what is appearing to be a hellacious case of PTSD, and it is just out of place. For now.

I am working on getting some shit out as far as pubs, but now i am re-focussed on my actual graduation...i want mom to see it. That means it is sped up a tich.

Well, now back to work...and of course, *now* i am tired. ::sob::

For ages; for fifty years.

2010-05-11T03:59:00.001-07:00

Today Mummers gets her results. I cannot sleep, Harry's new job doesn't allow him to come suck water out of my carpet until tomorrow from the flooded a/c (did i mention the a/c?) And I am watching Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts' Club Band, which I've not seen in years. Ever notice the LV print on Mr Big's coat during A Day In The Life? Well, I just noticed it. And where as a child I had thought Steven Tyler was the hawtness, now I acknowledge that this is an excellent example of the motif of harmful sensation (no, really -- it's one of my interests, trust me), which means that I am getting old and pedantic, or I might be in love.

Whatever I am, i cannot sleep.

I have been in such turmoil that I am having difficulty focussing, and have been too self-indulgent, possibly. I have less than one week to pull some magic out of my ass at Job 2. And I am in *pain*. Everything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer cramps to a backache which runs from the base of my skull to my SI area, which is in constant pain most of the time.

Enough about me. I need rest.