Friday

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

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

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

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

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

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


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On my last nerve.

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

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

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

Where do these people come from?





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Still Alive

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

Butsoanyway.

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

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

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

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


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Okay.

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


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I am losing my fricking mind.

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

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

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

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

Christ on a cracker.




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I am Gozer, The Destructor.

It is official:  I *am* Death.

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

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

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

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

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

I know, I know...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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