|
It's kind of amazing to me how much less lonely you can feel when you've got a warm little purring ball of fur snuggled up next to you. After a long day in the car and then getting chased around my parents' house by Teddy, the Newfie, she's climbed as far up towards my neck as possible and is trying like hell to have me absorb her into my body. The poor thing. This break-up/relocation/being homeless thing is just no good for her.
Traveling with Baby Kitty is going to prove a little more daunting than I had originally thought. Her crying makes me want to get all stabby with my eardrums. It breaks my heart to know she's scared and it's my fault and I can't do anything about it. We've got some car rides coming up that I know neither of us are going to enjoy, and I'm kicking myself for not getting a sedative for her beforehand. Losing your baby sister and having to go on the road with your crazy mother is a situation that I personally believe deserves medication.
BK and I are currently holed up in my old bedroom, for the one night my mom is letting me stay here. The day-and-night walls have been painted over with flat white and every single one of the trillion glow-in-the-dark stars has been meticulously scraped from the ceiling. This room that was once so bright with color that my mother asked me how I could sleep...
They painted it less than two weeks after I moved out 7 years ago, but I've never come back here for anything more than a visit, so it never really hit home. But this... bland, sterile room is just not the place where I slept and breathed and cried and laughed and ached through 13+ years of my childhood. This is not the comfort I was seeking.
It's so weird to know that I'm not going back to Victoria Street. I had a pretty hard time leaving all the memories behind, two years of good and bad, incredible and absolutely devastating. That was one of the few places that I'll always consider to be my 'home'. I stood on the sidewalk and blew a kiss to the windows that I sneakily peered out of, the steps I smoked on, the walls that absorbed my sobs and gasps, laughter and shouting.
I invested a lot in that apartment. I let Kenz convince me to paint and by the time we were done, I was convinced that my arms would never work right again. But it made me immediately attached to that space, and it's never let up. I may have shared it with lovers and roommates over the past few years, but I put my mark on every single corner and surface there. If I prepared even one meal a day (and we all know it was more than that), then I've made over 700 meals in that kitchen. That was MY space.
A lot of things have changed and are changing. I'm not going to get into a lot of it, because it's just for me, for now. But that apartment, that was a place that I entertained, that I loved in and fought in. Most of all, it was the place that offered me comfort and protection during the past year when I was afraid to be anywhere but there. I have shared that space with people, but right now I am mourning the loss of what's mine, the spaces and the moments where I felt that I had succeeded in creating a Home for myself. In that sense above all others, I am truly homeless.
The first night of Operation: Find Your Way Home has been rocky, but Cricket soothed me with stories and banter until the birds chirped her bedtime song. Now that I can see the sky lightening through the pine branches, I'm pretty sure it's time for me to try to sleep too. Current Mood:  drained |
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I have begun to feel like a prison warden lately. A prison warden with wet pants, because my watergun has a leak in it. I’m writing this letter to you, my furbabies, in the hopes that we can come to an agreement that will result in less water fights in the house. I’m not particularly domestically motivated as it is. Evil JoJo, I took you in knowing that you had some problems. Your foster Mom told me about the electrocution thing, but you’ve been pretty good about cords since you got here. You shit on my head the night before a funeral (you had worms, but that’s no excuse!) and I still let you live in my house. Most people would say that’s pretty generous. I can’t have any kind of living plants in the house because you EAT THEM. Not broccoli or carrots or asparagus, but roses and tulips and carnations are just tasty! You eat tampon wrappers, cigarette package cellophane, raw chicken if I turn my back for more than 3 seconds, bugs, stickers, peanut M&Ms and dust balls. Oh, and entire rolls of toilet paper. And then you make a show out of vomiting just when I’ve climbed into bed. You, my little ninja, learned to push my buttons early on. Also, I totally busted you on top of the fridge the other night eating Meow Mix through the hole you scratched in the bag. Now all extra food has to go into the storage space because there’s no other kitteh-proof space for it. I need all my cabinet room, bitch. You consistently shovel the sugar out of the sugar bowl and all over the kitchen floor - the counter is not your sandbox! You spend so much time digging around in your litter-igloo in the middle of the night that every time I clean the pan, I am convinced that a tunnel to China will be under there. Why, then, must you tamper with the most precious of my morning rituals - the making of the first cup of coffee? You know you don’t eat until after I’ve gone in the fridge for the half-and-half, why delay me by making me SWEEP first thing in the morning? This isn’t college, I shouldn’t have to wear flip-flops in my own house to avoid stepping in something nasty or having a sugary-coating on my soles every morning. Baby Kitty, You know you are my uncontested favorite, but Princess, we need to talk. You do not own the bathroom. I’ve never been very shy, I can strip, sneeze and pee in front of almost anyone, but the owl-eyed examination you give me from your chaise sink makes me a tad uncomfortable. Also I’d also like to remind you that I am allowed to close the door while attending to my toiletries. You must choose to be either inside or outside of the bathroom before I get into the shower. There is no changing your mind halfway through, so spend some time shedding on the towels and please stop ramming the door with your HEAD when it’s locked. I can’t afford a vet bill because you gave yourself a concussion when you heard the toilet flush and realized you weren’t there to witness it, and I’m also not getting out of the shower to open the door because the steam has offended your delicate sensibilities. I know you’re beautiful, you know you’re beautiful, everyone knows you’re the prettiest pussy around, but hairballs of the kind which you leave for me are not cool. On the floor on my side of the bed in the early morning hours? Not cool. In the bathroom in front of the toilet - not cool. Here’s a compromise - you eat your anti-hairball goo and I’ll clean up any hairballs not in major apartment thru-ways. Also, please learn to tell time. Dinner is served after it is dark outside. If I go into the kitchen at noon to make a sandwich, it does not mean that it is gooshy food time. If I go into the kitchen at 1:30 to get a drink, it is still not gooshy food time. If you need a clock, just follow your sister onto the counter whle she’s doing the sugar bowl thing and you should be able to see it just fine. But if I could give you one bit of motherly advice, it would be something that I’ve been told many, many times over the years - whining is not attractive, so knock it off. A quick note to both of you - PACE YOURSELVES! The dry food is ALWAYS out, fat kids. The gooshy food is served at 8am and 7pm. Just because you remember that the dry food is there, doesn’t mean that it’s gone when you go on your next spaced-out trip hunting imaginary bugs. No need to gorge yourself, honestly. We’re not a concentration camp, nor are you Somalian orphans. Also, only dogs eat puke. C’mon now, you’re better than that. To your credit, you’re both wonderful snugglers and your sweetness warms my heart in the fleeting moments that I get to experience it. You have full run of the house, more food than you could eat in a lifetime and enough fuzzy-jingly-dangly-feathery toys to stock a Petco, so lets all try to get along. I’m fine with you walking on my face at 2am on your shortcut across the bed. I’ve resigned myself to a life covered in cat hair and filled with meering. You have personal perches I made to let you watch the neighborhood goings-on, and as much as I’ve wanted to, I’ve never put you in a sweater. I restrict my pettins to cheeks-and-chin only and am fluent in twitchy-tail. I like to think I’m a pretty good mom. In consideration of the aforementioned complaints, it is expected that you will amend your behavior and act like ladies from this point forward. I’d really like to stop carrying a gun and I bet you’d enjoy walking through the house without having to shake your paws off. Love, Mom |
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Last week, my mother had an ultrasound to check on some fibroid tumors. Nothing big, just a routine check. Needless to say, they saw a mass on her ovary and scheduled her for another ultrasound, this time at Brigham & Women's in Boston. That's today, and she's asked me to go with her. *deep breath* I can do it, though. If I can do this for anyone, it's my Mom.
This was my morning greeting, except with both cats. Cats are so weird. JoJo is sitting next to me right now, watching the cursor and the typing on the screen and purring like mad.
Now, it's time for me to get ready for my big day.Current Mood:  anxious |
|
I forgot how numb Cepacol makes my mouth. I just looked down at my chest and realized I was drooling.
I am teh sexay! |
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I read this and immediately thought "![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) thanny's going to be SO upset."
Also, the strep-like sickness is back, complete with swollen cervical lymph nodes and pus on my tonsils. Maybe it's tonsilitis. I could live on ice cream. Either way, this has got to stop. Eating, drinking and enjoying all of my vices is seriously impeded and I can't sho my face at my doctor's office until I make a decision one way or the other about the Celexa she prescribed me over a month ago. Bah.
Not included in my accounting of the saga of last week:
The Evil One pooped on my head while I was sleeping Wednesday night. Thursday morning was the funeral and we came home and immediately took her to Arlington Animal Clinic. Even though I harbor a small hatred of them for after they almost killed Kenz's ferret Zipper, they are nevertheless the closest veterinary clinic. The verdict? Worms. So now every night, I put on my bathrobe (neck-to-ankle coverage from claws) and we force-feed worm meds to the ninja kitty with the extra claws. I'm still wearing flip-flops everywhere I go, just in case. Dribbly kitty bums are just no fun.
Also, last weekend during a random conversation at my parents house, my mother says the following: "I know that's probably selfish of me, but I learned from the best", after which she gestured to me. It was offhand, and probably not meant maliciously, but it stung. Please, don't get me started on the bad habits I've acquired from YOU.
I really should try to nap so that I'm not dangerous to anyone. |
| » There's a hole in my heart that can only be filled by you... |
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Melis' grandpa passed away this afternooon. And while everyone knew it was an eventuality, it was still so much more sudden than anyone was prepared for. I take a small bit of comfort from the fact that he wasn't in any pain in the end and that he passed in his sleep, knowing he was loved and adored.
This makes things crazy and complicated, in so many ways. This family has lost their patriarch and Melis has lost the Man in her life. In two words: This Sucks.
Excerpt from an article that I read once in the Boston Globe and kept.
"...Sara was faced with the full brunt of grief upon grief, and I was faced with the fact that there was nothing I could do about it.
Grief attaches itself to every other emotion, and I was amazed at how often everyday events that were cause for minor confusion or frustration morphed into full-blown mourning for Sara. Even moments of joy and celebration transitioned to tears without warning. My endeavors to make things easier never worked. Attempts to lift her mood simply left me feeling useless. And on the occasions when I let my own grieving show, Sara was simply hurting too much to connect....
So when Sara and I sat in the theater, and the two leads sang a song that always reminds Sara of her mother, I waited for the tears to come. With Sara weeping in the seat next to me, I finally understood my role. In a crowded, dark theater, I couldn't speak to her or hold her or even help her get out of that place. All I could do was hold her hand and have Kleenex at the ready, letting her know that I'd still be there when the music ended and the lights finally came back on."
~ Shawn Peters
Mar. 6th, 2008 @ 09:02 pm
|
| » In sickness and in health. |
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I currently have one of those friend situations that makes me want to rip my hair out.
My best friend Danielle has been my best friend since we were 16-years-old. We've had our ups and downs and I understand that life is profoundly different when you have two children, but it's getting to the point where I only get a phone call or a short, terse e-mail when she needs something from me.
At Christmastime, Melis and I went to Carver twice (the first time we got all the way down there and she told us she was too sick to see us) so that we could see her and the kids and give them all the persents we bought them. My birthday was two weeks later and I never heard from her. Mikey's birthday was a week after that, and I had to find out after-the-fact that there was a party, but we weren't invited.
Fast forward to last weekend, when I get a MySpace message (not even a personal e-mail!) telling me that she's selling Mary Kay on the side and asking if I can come down to Carver and help her throw a Mary Kay party THIS SUNDAY (3/9). ???!?!?!?!!!!!!?!?!?!?!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!
Oh, but here's the kicker - she also asks me to take her and the baby to Children's Hospital in Boston next Monday because Joey is scheduled to have tubes put in.
Grrrrrrrr!
I mean, I'm torn. Joey is my godson. I'm tempted to tell her to go to hell with her damn MK party, and then offer to meet her at Children's on Monday and keep her company for a while, just so I can see my baby boy and make sure he's okay. But then there's the part of me that knows that once I get on the phone and agree to any part of it, she'll launch into her sob story of how tough her life has been for the past few months and I'll end up feeling badly and just agree to everything, and I don't want to do that.
I'm sorry, but I just don't have the energy or the desire to fix other people's problems right now. I can barely take care of myself.
The worst part is that being trapped in the house for months has made me desperate for companionship and for the familiarity of comfortable friendship. Other than occasional visits by smithgrrlie or givemean_a I'm alone or with Melis. So, I want to see Dee, I would love to have my best friend back, but I don't know if I have it in me to try to put myself out there for her again. I mean, I'm missing out on so much of Joey's growing up. I missed over a year of Mikey's babyhood because she was being a brat.
There's just something so tempting about a person that you don't have to explain yourself to. 11 years of friendship makes it easy to hear what someone isn't saying and to give them what they didn't even realize they needed. I guess I just have to figure out if it's worth it or not. And I honestly just don't know.
Hopefully my strep test will come back positive and I'll just have to tell her that I'm really sorry, but I don't want to get anyone sick. This might be the first time I've ever wished to be infected with something.
Mar. 5th, 2008 @ 10:39 am
|
| » Ick. |
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*insert whining & dramatic flailing here* I'm SO sick.
Last night I started feeling a little off. The glands on the side of my neck were slightly swollen and a little sore and I commented on it, but quickly forgot and fell asleep. This morning I wake up and I can't turn my head, I'm so swollen and sore. No sore throat, no coughing, but I still feel like I'm dying.
Everyone has the sicknesses that they hate and the sicknesses that they can just barely tolerate. It sounds ridiculous, but you know what I mean. I've had a stomach bug off-and-on since Thanksgiving, and I can handle puking. At least you feel better afterwards. But this? This is one of those things where I just want to lie around and moan and complain about how sick I feel.
The fact that Baby Kitty is in heat is really not helping things. She sounds like a dying infant and she's practically burrowing under my bathrobe to get attention. She got shut out of the bedroom (which never happens) at 6am this morning because she was voicing her sexual frustration while standing on my pillow.
If the vet hadn't raped us for the vaccinations, we wouldn't be having this problem. $250 per kitten was NOT the $115 the receptionist quoted me. It sounds petty, especially from the point of view of "Don't get animals if you can't pay for them" but it's more to the fact that we CAN pay for them, when medical professionals tell us what to reasonably expect our costs to be BEFORE they examine our pets. As soon as we have the money saved up, we're taking both of them to Angell (the local animal hospital that the vet talked me out of going to in the first place) and getting the whole situation taken care of. Two furbabies, minus the girly bits. So, to soothe myself in the meantime, I talk to the little hornball about how cute she's going to look when they shave her belly and stick a lampshade on her neck. About how we'll have to uncover all the catboxes so she can fit. About how she won't be able to lick her own butt for WEEKS.
Melis says I'm mean, but I say that it's the only thing that's keeping me from a "shaken kitten" episode right about now.
Surprisingly, either the Evil One hasn't hit puberty yet, or she's suffering silently, like the ninja she is. Either way, it's one point for the Evil Kitten, because one thing she never does is mess with my beauty sleep.
My plans for the day have been scrapped and the plan is now to watch Season 2 of Numb3rs on my laptop, get as stoned as my swollen glands allow me to and hopefully catch a nap before my 3:30 therapy appointment. And I'm only dragging myself to that because I don't want to pay her hourly rate out-of-pocket because I canceled within 24 hours. Blah blah blah.
Off to go die on the couch.
Mar. 3rd, 2008 @ 09:45 am
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| » Random cuteness |
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So, I swiped this Flickr pool from one of thanny's recent posts and I had to put it here for everyone's enjoyment. I've even discussed getting a harness for the girls, since JoJo spends all of her time trying to get out and get the birds, anyway. Plus, with the way she acts with a collar on, I'm just DYING to get a picture of her trying to get the harness off.
I know someone who has a sweater for their cat, but every time they put it on her, she falls over. Just tips right over onto her side, like those fainting goats I saw on Dirty Jobs. A small part of me hopes that a harness and/or a cutesy-wootsy cat sweater will be the Evil One's kryptonite, but for now we'll just have to wait and see.
Enjoying the birds and taunting the neighbor's dogs.
Feb. 28th, 2008 @ 01:04 pm
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| » A tale of two kitties... |
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Picking up a spilled box of tacks is infinitely harder when kittens try to help.
But I think that Melis is finally realizing the wonder of kittens. They magically appear wherever you go! Every time she takes a shower, she turns her back for a second and *viola!* there are kittens perched on the towel shelves! Go to get yourself a drink and any time of day could be DINNER, at least to the Hallelujah Chorus of kittens milling around the food dishes. Were you trying to leave? Well, that kitten attached to the screen door would like to accompany you.
And every once in a great-long-while, they decide that they love you, so they climb on your face while you're alseep or demand the space your laptop is currently taking up when you're in the middle of writing a blog.
The Evil One in a rare quiet moment.
Baby Kitty snuggling on the couch.
Feb. 21st, 2008 @ 02:23 pm
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| » Awakening from hibernation... |
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I'm feeling overwhelmed. In half an hour I need to leave my house and the anxiety already has my heart racing.
This is a new year. This is a brand new start. The closer I get to taking the steps, the more I want to just take off all of my clothes and go to bed.
In a half an hour I need to leave my house and go to the therapist. I am going to the therapist precisely because of the fact that I can barely leave my house unaccompanied. I do not want to be Susan Sarandon's character from Copy Cat. I do not want to be a hermit.
Gah.
I mean, it's been bad before. Anyone who has read even a fraction of this journal knows that its been bad, but it's never been this bad. The only way that I'm able to deal is to barrel through things with a smile on my face so that no one knows that I'm about to cry or that I can't hear anything over the my own heartbeat.
I want to use the snow as a reason to stay home, but I can't. The car is already dug out (I did it this morning so I couldn't use it as an excuse) and I shoveled and salted the walk while I was out there. I'm showered and dressed. All I have to do is put on my coat. And thinking about that makes me want to throw up.
Oy vey.
But. But this was my resolution. Take Care Of Myself. A very general resolution, but the only one at this point that I feel like I can keep. It's vague, and resolutions are supposed to be specific, to help you keep them, but I think that this one is the one that I need.
This appointment today is the first step. I have a check-up with my primary care scheduled in two weeks. Mom got a prescription for Chantrix, the stop-smoking drug, and I think I'm going to ask for one as well.
Something's gotta give, and I've got to start somewhere. Just gotta get my foot out the door.
Jan. 14th, 2008 @ 02:36 pm
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| » Guess I'll go eat worms... |
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I knew that today was going to suck when, at 11:30 last night, all comfy on the couch watching a movie, I turned to Buck and said, "Oh shit!". I forgot to order breakfast for a HUGE meeting today (strike 1). I should have just called in sick and forgotten about it, but I ended up just picking up enough Dunkies to feed 20 people. So, like I said, I should have known that today was going to be a bust just from last night, but I plodded on and hauled in breakfast. Since there were clients in the office, I'm all dressed up today, and wouldn't you know it, the minute I try to steal a cup of coffee before the meeting, I end up spilling it all over the place and all over my white shirt. *argh* (strike 2) When I finally sit down after all of my morning running around, I find out the interesting tidbit that ALL of my conference call lines have been disconnected. In all, I probably have between 12-15 designated lines between my two teams, and as of today, none of them work (strike 3). Not to mention the fact that somehow, somewhere, the world got out to my Power Team that I can fix office machinery. Now, in my office, "fix" is a fairly flexible term which includes unjamming printers/faxes/copy machines, replacing toner, making it print & staple at the same time, adding networked printers to people's printer queues and basically anything above and beyond banging on the machines. Needless to say, my white button-down shirt is currently a mélange of coffee and toner. Somehow, though, I still managed to get asked out for drinks tonight.
May. 9th, 2007 @ 02:01 pm
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| » It's Ours - Charles Bukowski |
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there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing
that
gentle pure
space
it's worth
centuries of
existence
say
just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch
that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all
ever.
Apr. 27th, 2007 @ 03:50 pm
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| » I think I could stay with you for a while, maybe longer... |
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I am so exhausted. But it's Friday, so I'm pretending that I'm not. 6 hours to go.
The wake last night was interesting, though it made my day a trillion times longer since I drove straight down after work. I saw people who remembered me, even though I had no clue who they were. I saw my uncle's whole side of the family and heard stories about my mother, aunt and uncle from when they were younger. My Nana tried to guilt trip me into staying til after the wake and going back to someone's house to eat, but I hadn't eaten all day and I was exhausted, so I chose to trudge back northward with McDonalds.
I've made it through the Tunnel of Death a few times in the past few days and despite my black cloud lately, I haven't been smooshed to death by any faulty ceiling tiles. Even though I did call Amy for emotional support the other night as I descended into the abyss. "Hi, it's me, I'm heading into the Tunnel of Death... *crackle crackle fade*"
* ~ *
So, um, I think we have an apartment. Ok, it's not that I think it, because we already gave the nice man the security deposit, but we don't have the keys yet, so something could still go wrong. I honestly didn't think it was going to happen. I was at the point where I felt so overwhelmed by things that I would have been happy even if it didn't happen. But the place we saw the other night was perfect and it ended up being the right place at the right price, so Kenz went and put the deposit down last night while I was having Old Home Day in Rockland. So, we have an apartment.
The apartment is 5 minutes away from where I lived while in Medford. Freaky, right? We're right at the end of North Street, where it intersects Broadway. The apartment is beautiful, the bedroom is enormous, we have a teeny-tiny deck and lots of storage space. I'm scared shitless. I mean, yes it sounds wonderful, but I still wonder if I'm going to survive another move. I don't have the best track record.
I swing between being excited and asking myself, What the fuck are you thinking? Truth be told, I'm not. I think the only way that I won't turn into a complete psychopath about the whole thing and worry myself to death is not to think about it.
Easier said than done, right?
* ~ *
Danielle and Mikey are currently living with my parents. It's a long, crazy story, of course, but they're there indefinitely because the more the merrier at the Nute house.
* ~ *
I could still rip someone's throat out with my bare hands, but it's getting easier to restrain myself. I'm holding out a faint hope that someday I will be back to my semi-psycho state instead of the full-blown-verging-on-physical-violence psychosis I've been dealing with lately.
* ~ *
Yes, I know this is the internet. Yes, I know that everyone can read what I say. Does it really sound like I give a shit?
Thank you, come again.
Jul. 14th, 2006 @ 03:15 pm
|
| » Something so wrong... |
|---|
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I hate that I went to bed in the most incredible mood, not wanting to go to sleep, but I woke up this morning in a horrific mood.
There is something (smoke detector? carbon monoxide detector?) dying a slow battery death in the house next door to me. This house was just sold and stands empty with the majority of its windows open, emitting frequent "beeps" from whatever machine is wasting away inside. The beeping bored into my skull and stayed there for the majority of the evening.
This was after I spent 2 hours in traffic on Route 1 because of the monsoon. I wanted to drive my car into the jersey barriers but the traffic situation wouldn't let me build up enough speed to make a difference.
* ~ *
I got into work and plugged in my poor electricity-starved phone and got a slew of text messages. For about 3.5 seconds I felt majorly loved, until I saw one that looked out of place. Libra - Your appetite is extra ravenous today. A challenge is at hand.
Yeah, that's cool and all, but I'm not a Libra. I'm a Capricorn surrounded by Scorpios. My cell phone is suffering from a zodiac identity crisis.
* ~ *
I have nothing useful or witty or profound to say. I feel like one of those chocolate Easter bunnies, perky and happy in their bright foil wrapping but hollow and empty inside.
Any day now I'm going to go spinning off my axis and twirl out into space.
* ~ *
You don't know me,
And you don't even care, oh yeah
You said,
You don't know me,
And you don't wear my chains, oh yeah
~ augustana
* ~ *
The most ridiculous part of this is that I'm so incredibly lucky. I am surrounded on all sides by people who love and care about me. I'm close with my family, which is a blessing in itself. I have amazing friends. I have a fantastic job, I do good work, I should be happy. All of the peripheral stuff is just overwhelming right now. It's hard to see the big picture and remember what there is to be happy about. It's just hard.
* ~ *
Wake tomorrow, so I have to drive to Rockland right after work. Friday is the eve of party craziness, Saturday the party, Sunday my token day with Christina. And then I'm going to sleep. For days.
* ~ *
When something goes wrong
I'm the first to admit it.
I'm the first to admit it,
But the last one to know.
When something goes right,
Well it's likely to lose me,
It's apt to confuse me,
It's such an unusual sight.
I can't get used to something so right
Something so right.
~ Paul Simon
Jul. 12th, 2006 @ 04:02 pm
|
| » Teeth are for gay people. That's why fairies come and get 'em. ~ Aqua Teen Hunger Force |
|---|
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Work is like an icebox and even I, the Queen of the Thermostats, can't fix it. We're either freezing or sweating and I much prefer being bundled up in my NAFI blanket than trying to appease hordes of sweltering accountants with box fans.
* ~ *
Tonight we're going to see an apartment near Davis Square. I don't want to get too excited, but I'd really like to know we have a place before we go on vacation in 2 weeks. I'm a lot more scared this time than I've been any other time, but I think it's mostly because this is a first time for her. Me, I'm 0-2 in the "living with people" department.
* ~ *
The girly doctor couldn't see me today but assured me that the current problem is easily remedied. We had to have the SAME conversation all over again about why I can't remember to take a pill. I'm not trying to ward off an unwanted pregnancy, I just want to stop being such a psychopath. It might be time for a new doctor if this keeps up. She makes me feel like I should be apologizing for not being a sperm receptacle.
* ~ *
I spent my lunch hour looking at bathing suits. For the first time in my life, I didn't look at them and cry. I think that deserves a round of applause! *Yay* for positive self-esteem.
I'm getting more and more nervous/excited about NC. 12 more days and I have my first real vacation. Nothing to do but read and swim and be lazy. I've already started a list of the books that I'm going to bring with me. Most of them are on my " Recommended List" from Amy, but some are just ones that I've had hanging around and haven't gotten to read yet.
I know, hell has frozen over - I have unread books at my house. I'm sure that I'll get through a good chunk while we're away. I'll probably finish one on the ride down!
I do not relish the thought of driving 12 hours, even broken up into 3-hour chunks, but I'm making Kenz drive through Delaware - the devil state. I think that means that I get stuck with the NYC portion, though. Fair is fair and I'm willing to do my share, I just don't want to. My innate laziness is rebelling against the thought of such a long time cooped up in the car.
* ~ *
When I grow up, I'm never going to have to wake up before 10am on a Monday. Ever. I'm also going to eat McDonald's for all of my meals and never get fat.
The End.
Jul. 10th, 2006 @ 04:13 pm
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| » See, baby, this is perfection.... |
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A more appropriate title for this entry would be "There's beauty in the breakdown...".
For the past week I've been on the verge of losing my mind. The stupid birth control ring-thingy that the doc gave me has kept me on the brink of having my period for a week. That's 2 weeks straight of hormonal psychosis, while I teeter on the edge of bleeding and sanity. And in the end, the verdict is that there weren't enough hormones in the ring to completely stop my period. NOT ENOUGH? Are you people crazy? I've been homicidal for over a week now, bursting into tears at the slightest provocation and threatening people with physical violence and you're telling me it's from a LACK of hormones? I hate to advertise my blatant ignorance, but I disagree.
So I took it out, and until she can give me something that doesn't make me want to kill people and/or tumble into a sobbing heap all the goddamn time, I'm not going anywhere near it.
* ~ *
Despite the horror that I've been inflicting on everyone lately, Kenz and I actually managed to get up to Burlington on Saturday for Pride. We actually missed the Pride part, but we got to spend QT with Elissa, my taller twin, and wandered Church Street, lingering in little shops and getting ideas for our vacation shopping.
All-in-all, it was a relaxing weekend. We watched the sunset over Lake Champlain while eating ice cream and she showed me UVM and all of the places she used to live. I also got a guided tour of every place that Kathy lived in Burlington. :)
I napped until Elissa got out of work and then the three of us headed down to Nectar's to party with the queers. I got to meet a bunch of people that I had only heard of in passing and we danced our asses off until 2am.
I could see myself living in Vermont (esp. Burlington).
#1, there are head shops EVERYWHERE.
#2 It's so GREEN!
#3 It reminds me of Oneonta, but cooler.
#4 Everyone is so nice!
#5 It actually gets dark at night.
There are tons more reasons, but the lack of light pollution is one of my favorite parts.
* ~ *
Cruised down to see the family last night. It was a brief visit, as most of them have been lately, but I still like to stop in, even if just for an hour. Mom is losing more weight and she's gaunt now, with sunken cheeks. She worries me, which is why I've been trying to be down there as often as I can. Between the anemia and the looming hysterectomy, she's just a mess and having Nana here and dealing with the family bs isn't helping. Kenz and I will be going down on Friday night to help prepare for the party. I'm hoping that Mom has some time to rest between now and then. If not, I'll make sure she does when I get there.
We were on the phone the other night and she said to me, "I just didn't know who else to call. You're the only one who listens to me.", and I thought, I know exactly what you mean. We're closer now than ever before, so on Friday, when I couldn't take one more thing going wrong, I drove down to see her. She looked at me, as I arrived at almost 10pm and blurted out, "This has been a shitty week. I just wanted my Mom", and then she stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around me and said, "I know what you mean. Sometimes it's just me and you."
Sometimes it is and I wouldn't trade her for the world.
Jul. 10th, 2006 @ 03:29 pm
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| » Summer nostalgia... |
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"I feel as if I am looking at the world from the bottom of a well..."
I look like a lesbian today. Polo and khakis cause I'm lazy. Well, that and I'm dog/housesitting so I had just enough time this morning to run to my apartment and grab work clothes before running to Peabody to get the pup settled for the day.
The pile-driver outside is giving my tuchis a massage. I wish they'd just get the boat ramp built and get it over with. Our whole building shakes for the greater part of each day and it leaves me tingly.
Being a boss is getting to me and the hiring process is draining. I feel like I'm never caught up. I feel like I'll never be caught up. I am anxiously awaiting my vacation. Maybe everything will explode while I'm gone.
It's officially summer, even if we haven't had the weather. And the cycle starts all over again. It was exactly a year ago this weekend that Nana arrived and the family helped me pack to leave Lise's. A year since Nana found out that I own sex toy books and don't wear underwear. A year since I started over again on my own.
Nana arrives this weekend for her month-long reign, but we start the trip off on a better note this year. She's bringing her boyfriend to meet the family. We're having an engagement party for Shaun. At least one of the Nute kids can have a semi-normal relationship. The frightening part is that it's the one who spent 18 years locked in the dark in his room, avoiding being social at all costs.
A year. It's especially hard to think back on the people that I clung to to get my bearings and the ways we've all gone in a year. I never would have imagined that I'd end up here.
A year ago today Mackenzie and I went to our first Erin McKeown concert together. I bought the tickets as a surprise. She ignored me after the show started. I think I might have cried. She held my hand the whole ride home and I berrated myself for enjoying it. I spent months drawing her close and pushing her away. I spent an entire summer trying to figure out how to let her in. I spent whole evenings trying to convince myself to let her go. In the end, it wasn't anything we could control. After weeks of not talking, she showed up at my door, helmet in hand. The best decision I ever made was to let her in.
A year. I have a memory of Lise right before I moved out. She drove up to the house and parked outside and I could hear Jack Johnson's "Bubbletoes" pouring out the windows of the car. I hung out the window and we sung to each other until the song ended and she came inside. I remember thinking, "We can really do this. We're going to make a friendship out of this." Amazing what a year can show you.
A year. I remember my first night in my new apartment, alone. I had sent Alex home so that I could see if I could do it, if I could truly be alone. And I was up until 2am hanging my shower curtain. I was up until 2am wandering back and forth between the two rooms that I could call my own, wondering if it would be enough. I had nightmares the first week and lived out of boxes for fear that finally, now that I was by myself, that he would find me and I would have to run. Next month will be a year since I found out he was dead.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Nana is coming and as my mother so aptly put it, "Christina always comes to visit us in July". The same old summer saga will begin itself again, mixing the new players with the old. It's amazing how everyone will get along just to make my mother happy. And how we'll all gloss over all of my faults and failures and pretend like things have always been this way. Then again, that's what family is for, right?
Summer makes me yearn for the past. Makes me want to collect the fragments I'm holding onto and make them tangible, just to give myself the chance to stop watching from the sidelines, gleaning information like a stalker and bring all of the pieces of my heart home again.
All you can do is try.
Jun. 27th, 2006 @ 10:12 am
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| » Ganked from smithgrrlie |
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IF...
If you comment on this post:
1. I’ll respond with something random about you.
2. I’ll challenge you to try something.
3. I’ll pick a color that I associate with you.
4. I’ll tell you something I like about you.
5. I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I’ll ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on yours.
Let the commenting begin!
Jun. 23rd, 2006 @ 02:37 pm
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