In my therapy book, we've been exploring the idea of understanding versus accepting. The author pointed out, and I believe correctly so, that we sometimes think that if we understand the 'why' of something, this means we also have to accept it as just the way things are.
For example, 'I didn't relieved a lot of affection as a kid and this has made me standoffish to affection as an adult' is an understanding of why you don't want to be touched. 'No one hugged me as a kid so I guess no one will ever touch me as an adult' is taking that same concept and believing it to be the end of things. This is rarely the case.
I'm trying to use this concept in as many areas of my life as possible. Today, I tried it with a hot flash. I understood what was happening. I'm getting use to the sudden rush of fever that seems to radiate from the core of my being. It's still odd at first. 'Why am I feeling this way? I wasn't sick like three seconds before . . .' are what pops into my head as it happens. Then it's the wave of nausea, though that varies from flash to flash. Today it was only slight, which was good because I was just about to eat breakfast.
So I sat there and munched on my popsicles. I did my best to ease through the moment and understand that it was just a hot flash and not the end of the world. I reminded myself that I didn't need to panic. It would be over soon. It's just part of this process and I'm doing what I can to make it as reasonable as possible. I didn't let it get to me and I'm certainly going to see if my doctor has any suggestions for how to make them less horrible.
In the meantime (or if she can't do anything about them), I will have to accept that they are part of my life now. However, they are a temporary part, just few minutes of heat and nausea, then things calm back down. I can live with that. My ancestresses did.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Goodbye, September
I have to say that September has been a good month for me. Granted, it wasn't as cool as I had hoped, but at the same time, we still ran the AC less than we did last year. I checked my blog for the end of last September and realized it had been hot and muggy . . . or at least that's what I wrote about. At the end of September last year, I was planning on seeing a friend's band perform and thinking about cutting my hair. My hair is in need of cutting again and the band has broken up. I still adore my friend though.
I feel like the month is ending on a positive note because I've been somewhatish productive. I've been steadily working with my exercise stick and drinking my ACV. I've been better about taking my meds. Whenever I go outside, I get to see the tidy and cleaned up bushes and trees. I made friends with Clementine. I touched base with some friends.
What is on my plate for this week?
I have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday and hopefully my project can get started. I want to start cleaning the fans and storing them as the season for needing them is coming to a close. I still need to call my father (because I keep forgetting). I should probably try and talk to some other family members as well. There are tons of towels that need folding and I should see about getting out my winter clothes. But hey guess what! I know where they are. I am so happy about that.
Anyway, goodbye September 2013. I will miss you. I spent a day or two being strong during you and so you will be fondly remembered.
I feel like the month is ending on a positive note because I've been somewhatish productive. I've been steadily working with my exercise stick and drinking my ACV. I've been better about taking my meds. Whenever I go outside, I get to see the tidy and cleaned up bushes and trees. I made friends with Clementine. I touched base with some friends.
What is on my plate for this week?
I have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday and hopefully my project can get started. I want to start cleaning the fans and storing them as the season for needing them is coming to a close. I still need to call my father (because I keep forgetting). I should probably try and talk to some other family members as well. There are tons of towels that need folding and I should see about getting out my winter clothes. But hey guess what! I know where they are. I am so happy about that.
Anyway, goodbye September 2013. I will miss you. I spent a day or two being strong during you and so you will be fondly remembered.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
The Good Child
Once I was a teenager, I lived with my grandparents. My mom had kicked me out due to my noncompliance of buying into her at-the-moment husband's bullshit. My grandparents were beside themselves with stress, anger, and grief due to my mother's destructive behavior. They really didn't know what to do about any of her madness. They took me in and I was suddenly safer . . . in one way. In another way, I was entering a different kind of hell.
The hell I refer to is the hell of the Good Child. The Good Child is usually the sibling of the Bad Child, though in my case, I was the actual child of the Bad Child. Then again, my mother and I were only 19 years apart, so I very well could have been her sibling. At any rate, the dynamic was the same. While I lived as a dependent with my grandparents, I would carry the emotional load of my mother's sins.
The Good Child should never be mistaken for the Favorite Child. In fact, if anything, the Bad Child is shown more favor. The Good Child usually has to spend many hours listening to the parents talk about the Bad Child. They watch as money and time are sacrificed for the Bad Child. And in the end, when everyone realizes the Bad Child probably won't be fixed, the parents are so emotionally damaged, they can't help but damage anyone else in the situation.
The Good Child has many rules they must follow.
The hell I refer to is the hell of the Good Child. The Good Child is usually the sibling of the Bad Child, though in my case, I was the actual child of the Bad Child. Then again, my mother and I were only 19 years apart, so I very well could have been her sibling. At any rate, the dynamic was the same. While I lived as a dependent with my grandparents, I would carry the emotional load of my mother's sins.
The Good Child should never be mistaken for the Favorite Child. In fact, if anything, the Bad Child is shown more favor. The Good Child usually has to spend many hours listening to the parents talk about the Bad Child. They watch as money and time are sacrificed for the Bad Child. And in the end, when everyone realizes the Bad Child probably won't be fixed, the parents are so emotionally damaged, they can't help but damage anyone else in the situation.
The Good Child has many rules they must follow.
- They must do well in school. Anything below As is an insult to the pain already suffered by the parents.
- They must be polite to the parents because the parents are already stressed out about the Bad Child.
- They must be agreeable to the suggestions of the parents. The parents are wise and their advice has been spurned by the Bad Child. This cannot happen again.
- They must do all they can to minimize their own problems, emotions, and issues. The parents have already been taxed enough by the Bad Child.
- They must make as little noise as possible.
- They must do nothing, absolutely nothing, to embarrass the parents. The parents have been embarrassed enough.
These rules are outright stated (most of the time), but you very quickly begin to understand them. One time I freaked out while we were in the cellar. It was possible there would be a tornado and I'd spent basically the month before getting all my prom stuff together. It was very upsetting. I was looked at like I was a crazy dramamonster and told in very strict terms to calm down. By both of them. They took turns bitching at me for showing emotions when they didn't think it was proper to show them, even if my reasons were justified. Even if I did my best to not show emotions.
Besides all of these rules, there is the one horrible Truth that lurks in the depths of being the Good Child. The Good Child will never be good enough. The Good Child cannot be good enough.
The Good Child will ALWAYS fail.
It's not like you will fail more than any other kid would. It's just that you're human and people make mistakes. People are selfish and unthinking. And Good Children are, of course, children. People under 18 who are just trying to find their way, usually people who have also been damaged by the Bad Child. Absolutely any transgression will be met with no tolerance. Any transgression will be combated with emotional devastation.
So you will fail. You will be unset after a band trip and fail to speak enough to one of the parents when they pick you up . . . and the next morning you will be spoken to by both of them about how horrible this was. You will make a long distance call to a friend on a day when you were just at the end of your sanity . . . and even though you have the money to pay for the call, you will be chewed out because, wow, I'm still not even sure about that one. I had the damned money to pay.
Anyway, you get the idea. The Bad Child has already caused problems and now the Good Child must try to do everything they can to be perfect, support the parents, and apologize for the Bad Child. It's a role that is truly unfair. It really sucks. Even to this day, I have a lot of emotional issues from my years as the Good Child.
I know it's not easy to have a kid who is causing problems and basically destroying the family. I know this is hard on parents. It's probably one of the most painful things they can go through. But if this happens to you, you have to remember that your other children, or your grandchildren, did not cause these problems are are just trying to do their best to survive. Don't force them into the role of the Good Child. It won't help you and it certainly won't help them.
Besides all of these rules, there is the one horrible Truth that lurks in the depths of being the Good Child. The Good Child will never be good enough. The Good Child cannot be good enough.
The Good Child will ALWAYS fail.
It's not like you will fail more than any other kid would. It's just that you're human and people make mistakes. People are selfish and unthinking. And Good Children are, of course, children. People under 18 who are just trying to find their way, usually people who have also been damaged by the Bad Child. Absolutely any transgression will be met with no tolerance. Any transgression will be combated with emotional devastation.
So you will fail. You will be unset after a band trip and fail to speak enough to one of the parents when they pick you up . . . and the next morning you will be spoken to by both of them about how horrible this was. You will make a long distance call to a friend on a day when you were just at the end of your sanity . . . and even though you have the money to pay for the call, you will be chewed out because, wow, I'm still not even sure about that one. I had the damned money to pay.
Anyway, you get the idea. The Bad Child has already caused problems and now the Good Child must try to do everything they can to be perfect, support the parents, and apologize for the Bad Child. It's a role that is truly unfair. It really sucks. Even to this day, I have a lot of emotional issues from my years as the Good Child.
I know it's not easy to have a kid who is causing problems and basically destroying the family. I know this is hard on parents. It's probably one of the most painful things they can go through. But if this happens to you, you have to remember that your other children, or your grandchildren, did not cause these problems are are just trying to do their best to survive. Don't force them into the role of the Good Child. It won't help you and it certainly won't help them.
Friday, September 27, 2013
The Boys Want to Be Her
It was a good day. My roommate and I did our shopping with little to no problem. He wrote his 1,000th blog post, which is just amazing. I'm so proud of him. I got to pet on Clem for a while and the girl kitties weren't brats. Undercoats are starting to grow in, which means that all kitty fur is softer.
I hope we can get a picture of Clem soon. Right now, I'm not sure how that is going to happen because he is very skittish around us. A camera might freak him out badly. Still, he's a cute little kitty and I'd love to be able to show him to everyone. He as the most beautiful eyes.
We're inching ever closer to October, which as you know is my favorite month of the year. I get to paint my SIL like a zombie and I'm still debating about what I may do to decorate myself. Plus, there will be candy at some point. That's always good. I really really need to call my dad this weekend and remind him that I'm still alive. October's end is the start of the holiday season and the sooner I know how things are being planned out, the better.
Until then, I'm going to bask in the changing of leaves and the ever softening of kitty cats.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Clumsy Luck
So I'm never the most graceful person. Losing weight has made me LESS graceful because the changes in my size and the way weight redistributes causes me to constantly have to reestablish balance and I'm not that good at it. I've managed not to fall in recent months, but that doesn't keep me from banging into things and tripping over my own feet.
Last night as I was turning off the lights in the living room, I stumbled into my computer desk and sent my catch-all basket into the trash. Which, okay, it was actually a lucky thing that it went into the trash because at least the 50 million things I keep in that basket didn't go flying across the floor.
My carpet is this kind of weird color that renders everything that falls onto it invisible. This isn't helped by the fact that the floor is slightly slanted so anything that falls on it rolls and ends up under the couch. I think the couch has some portal to another world under it.
But as I said, I was lucky. All I had to do was dig through the trash can! You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to be in that position. Anyway, in the process of doing this, I found every ponytail holder I've lost in the last year, my letter opener, a yarn hook, and my black nail polish! For once in my life, my clumsiness has come in handy!
Last night as I was turning off the lights in the living room, I stumbled into my computer desk and sent my catch-all basket into the trash. Which, okay, it was actually a lucky thing that it went into the trash because at least the 50 million things I keep in that basket didn't go flying across the floor.
My carpet is this kind of weird color that renders everything that falls onto it invisible. This isn't helped by the fact that the floor is slightly slanted so anything that falls on it rolls and ends up under the couch. I think the couch has some portal to another world under it.
But as I said, I was lucky. All I had to do was dig through the trash can! You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to be in that position. Anyway, in the process of doing this, I found every ponytail holder I've lost in the last year, my letter opener, a yarn hook, and my black nail polish! For once in my life, my clumsiness has come in handy!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
A Calm and Pleasant Experience
For a long time, the internet has been a place where anonymous people could make whatever comments they wished. No matter how racist, homophobic, sexist, or otherwise hateful the comments were, they could still post them for everyone to see. People could be threatened with rape or death. People's children or pets could be threatened. People could post things that were just stupid or without one shred of evidence.
However, certain places are beginning to put a stop to this. YouTube has announced they will be changing the way comments are handled. Popular Science is disabling comments altogether. Other places are now demanding that people use their names before commenting, hoping this will stop some of the problems. I really don't think this last one will work very well. The internet has emboldened the jackassery of the world and most of these people now proudly spew their special brand of crazy like it's some kind of honor.
A lot of people are complaining about these changes. They believe that people should be allowed to say whatever they wish and that this is somehow a violation of freedom of speech. We've talked about this before. Freedom of speech means that you can say most things and the government really can't legally come and lock you up. It doesn't mean you have the right to come into my house, insult me, and not expect to get kicked out. I will kick you out. It's my house and I have a right to decide what happens there.
By the same token, YouTube and Popular Science have a right to decide what will be allowed on their areas. Both have reason to want people to return to their sites and more people will return to a place where they don't have to wade through idiotic comments or worry about being abused/threatened. YouTube needs people to post videos. How many people are stopping themselves from posting because they don't want to have to deal with the insults and threats that may follow?
Beyond that, I think this trend towards people curbing the trolls on their sites is more about a way to allow the internet to mature and become a civilized place. Right now, being on some sites is like going to a restaurant and getting placed at a table next to a screaming child. No matter how much you want to enjoy yourself, no matter how good your company, there is still that screaming child at the table next to you, ruining the whole experience.
In the same way that I am happy when restaurants will ask the parents of the screaming child to leave, I'm happy that these websites are now doing something about the annoyance of their comment sections. If it is a toss up between the nice pleasant people and the ones who are ruining it for everyone, choose to side with the polite people. It's best we don't feed the trolls . . . or the screaming children.
However, certain places are beginning to put a stop to this. YouTube has announced they will be changing the way comments are handled. Popular Science is disabling comments altogether. Other places are now demanding that people use their names before commenting, hoping this will stop some of the problems. I really don't think this last one will work very well. The internet has emboldened the jackassery of the world and most of these people now proudly spew their special brand of crazy like it's some kind of honor.
A lot of people are complaining about these changes. They believe that people should be allowed to say whatever they wish and that this is somehow a violation of freedom of speech. We've talked about this before. Freedom of speech means that you can say most things and the government really can't legally come and lock you up. It doesn't mean you have the right to come into my house, insult me, and not expect to get kicked out. I will kick you out. It's my house and I have a right to decide what happens there.
By the same token, YouTube and Popular Science have a right to decide what will be allowed on their areas. Both have reason to want people to return to their sites and more people will return to a place where they don't have to wade through idiotic comments or worry about being abused/threatened. YouTube needs people to post videos. How many people are stopping themselves from posting because they don't want to have to deal with the insults and threats that may follow?
Beyond that, I think this trend towards people curbing the trolls on their sites is more about a way to allow the internet to mature and become a civilized place. Right now, being on some sites is like going to a restaurant and getting placed at a table next to a screaming child. No matter how much you want to enjoy yourself, no matter how good your company, there is still that screaming child at the table next to you, ruining the whole experience.
In the same way that I am happy when restaurants will ask the parents of the screaming child to leave, I'm happy that these websites are now doing something about the annoyance of their comment sections. If it is a toss up between the nice pleasant people and the ones who are ruining it for everyone, choose to side with the polite people. It's best we don't feed the trolls . . . or the screaming children.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Failing at Numbers
A couple of weeks ago, I made an appointment to go see my doctor. When I talked to receptionist, I reminded her that the doc said I needed to be there as early on that day as they could get me in. She said she understood and told me I was to be there at 7:15. I wasn't happy about it, but I told her that time was fine and hung up.
Later, while discussing the appointment with my roommate, we both agreed that 7:15 was way early to go see a doctor (or anyone). He smiled and told me I was on my own about waking up, as he would not be up at that time and would not be awake to remind me to pull my sleepy sad self out of bed. I decided just to set my phone alarm, but even still, the time seemed off.
Off and on, we would discuss the appointment being so early and speculate as to why this was happening. He suggested that perhaps she was seeing people really early so that lab work could be sent off as soon as possible. This made a certain kind of sense. There are also a lot of people who have 8-5 jobs, so perhaps opening at seven was just her way of trying to free up more time for them. We wondered if opening so early was perhaps a way for her to see people before making rounds at the hospital.
Yet, despite all the logical reasons we could find, I just simply could not accept that I was to be at the doctor's that early in the morning. Today, I called her office to confirm the time of the appointment. The date was correct and the time . . . was 10:15. Ten . . .
Okay, I know I am getting older and my hearing is shot due to years of loud music and earphones, but I have no idea how I heard 'seven' for 'ten. NO CLUE! I keep saying the two words and I don't even see them as that close no matter what kind of accept I try to use. Was I just not paying attention? Did the girl get confused? Was I? I honestly couldn't tell you.
What I do know is that I don't have to be into the doc's office until ten. I get to sleep to a reasonable hour and shower in the morning instead of the night before. I get to be reasonably awake, meaning I stand a better chance of remembering everything I wanted to discuss with her. Ten is a good thing! It's so much better than seven. It's really so much better than seven that I'm not even going to feel embarrassed that I can no longer hear numbers.
Later, while discussing the appointment with my roommate, we both agreed that 7:15 was way early to go see a doctor (or anyone). He smiled and told me I was on my own about waking up, as he would not be up at that time and would not be awake to remind me to pull my sleepy sad self out of bed. I decided just to set my phone alarm, but even still, the time seemed off.
Off and on, we would discuss the appointment being so early and speculate as to why this was happening. He suggested that perhaps she was seeing people really early so that lab work could be sent off as soon as possible. This made a certain kind of sense. There are also a lot of people who have 8-5 jobs, so perhaps opening at seven was just her way of trying to free up more time for them. We wondered if opening so early was perhaps a way for her to see people before making rounds at the hospital.
Yet, despite all the logical reasons we could find, I just simply could not accept that I was to be at the doctor's that early in the morning. Today, I called her office to confirm the time of the appointment. The date was correct and the time . . . was 10:15. Ten . . .
Okay, I know I am getting older and my hearing is shot due to years of loud music and earphones, but I have no idea how I heard 'seven' for 'ten. NO CLUE! I keep saying the two words and I don't even see them as that close no matter what kind of accept I try to use. Was I just not paying attention? Did the girl get confused? Was I? I honestly couldn't tell you.
What I do know is that I don't have to be into the doc's office until ten. I get to sleep to a reasonable hour and shower in the morning instead of the night before. I get to be reasonably awake, meaning I stand a better chance of remembering everything I wanted to discuss with her. Ten is a good thing! It's so much better than seven. It's really so much better than seven that I'm not even going to feel embarrassed that I can no longer hear numbers.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Like the Deserts Miss the Rain
Today I was thinking about how I wanted my life to be in the future. It was kind of one of those tentative Forward 40 project things. I thought about how I would like to have enough money to support myself, a cute little house, enough of a yard to have a garden . . . and then I realized that all of this was stuff I loved about Glitch.
Just as the thought occurred to me, I felt the same sadness and hurt that I'd felt when the game closed. Even all these months later, I still miss Glitch a lot. I miss my little journeys through the lands. I miss seeing other Glitchen. I miss my Giants. I miss fighting rooks and I miss my favorite shrine. That game meant so much to me. I truly had . . .and still have . . . a deep emotional connection to it. I think I always will.
And you know, given that I have such a strong tie to this game, even after so many months away from it, it's all the more outrageous that the game was such down. I know I'm not the only person who loved it this much. I know I'm not the only person who is probably still mourning my lost world. I feel like an exile, forced back into reality, my beautiful Glitchen homeland closed to me forever.
There are other games that I have stopped playing since then. Some were games that got shut down by their creators. Some were games I just got sick of playing. I miss one or two of those games, but only in the most minor way. I don't ache for them. I don't daydream about them. I don't mourn for the loss of them.
I mourn Glitch though. I miss it and I will probably miss it forever. That game really touched me. I wish I never had to leave.
Just as the thought occurred to me, I felt the same sadness and hurt that I'd felt when the game closed. Even all these months later, I still miss Glitch a lot. I miss my little journeys through the lands. I miss seeing other Glitchen. I miss my Giants. I miss fighting rooks and I miss my favorite shrine. That game meant so much to me. I truly had . . .and still have . . . a deep emotional connection to it. I think I always will.
And you know, given that I have such a strong tie to this game, even after so many months away from it, it's all the more outrageous that the game was such down. I know I'm not the only person who loved it this much. I know I'm not the only person who is probably still mourning my lost world. I feel like an exile, forced back into reality, my beautiful Glitchen homeland closed to me forever.
There are other games that I have stopped playing since then. Some were games that got shut down by their creators. Some were games I just got sick of playing. I miss one or two of those games, but only in the most minor way. I don't ache for them. I don't daydream about them. I don't mourn for the loss of them.
I mourn Glitch though. I miss it and I will probably miss it forever. That game really touched me. I wish I never had to leave.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Falltastic
There are a million things I love about Fall, but I think my favorite is the way the cats begin to calm down. Summer is difficult on them. They have fur and they don't like the heat. It's difficult to find places to sleep. Sleep is difficult because of fleas. They don't want to scratch themselves because then we humans go over them with a flea comb. And, of course, we also prevent the fleas from spreading by running the vacuum every day. Cats hate the damned vacuum.
As the weather is cooling down, the cats can be more calm. Today, Ro and Rhi lounged on the couch, sleeping in various happy poses. Because it's cooler, sunlight is, again, a thing of worship. Ro spent part of her day in the window, head positioned to receive as much sunlight as possible. I could tell she was completely happy.
I also got to watch little pink toes as they curled up in luxury. I got to watch a little grey cat nuzzling my roommate and peering out from underneath a blanket. At one point they curled against each other and nestled into each other's warmth. It was truly beautiful.
Fall is wonderful because it allows me to slow down and just really savor these moments. When it's hot, I just want time to speed up so I can get the heat over with. I want it gone. I want it to end. But as things begin to cool down, I want time to stop and just float for a while. I let my thinking do this. I truly concentrate on the beauty in front of me. I stay IN the moment instead of trying to avoid it (because the moment was hot). It calms me down.
So yay! Hello, Fall! I've missed you. Stay as long as you can. Give me cool, quiet nights with kitties sleeping on me. Give me a world of yellow, orange, and red leaves. Give me harvest parties and Halloween and zombie parades. I love you, Fall. I'm so glad you're back.
As the weather is cooling down, the cats can be more calm. Today, Ro and Rhi lounged on the couch, sleeping in various happy poses. Because it's cooler, sunlight is, again, a thing of worship. Ro spent part of her day in the window, head positioned to receive as much sunlight as possible. I could tell she was completely happy.
I also got to watch little pink toes as they curled up in luxury. I got to watch a little grey cat nuzzling my roommate and peering out from underneath a blanket. At one point they curled against each other and nestled into each other's warmth. It was truly beautiful.
Fall is wonderful because it allows me to slow down and just really savor these moments. When it's hot, I just want time to speed up so I can get the heat over with. I want it gone. I want it to end. But as things begin to cool down, I want time to stop and just float for a while. I let my thinking do this. I truly concentrate on the beauty in front of me. I stay IN the moment instead of trying to avoid it (because the moment was hot). It calms me down.
So yay! Hello, Fall! I've missed you. Stay as long as you can. Give me cool, quiet nights with kitties sleeping on me. Give me a world of yellow, orange, and red leaves. Give me harvest parties and Halloween and zombie parades. I love you, Fall. I'm so glad you're back.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
The Snark of my Ancestors
In the dark hours of the night, the ancestral spirits of the women who have come before Blackhaired Barbie gather. They drift from their places in time in space, these women of character and fortitude. When they lived, they traveled across oceans. They bit down on sticks as they gave birth. They hunted, they gathered, they fished, and they warred. They danced in the moonlight and spun wool and spun tales.
Now they just show up to snark at me.
"So what's she up to today?" asks washerwoman ancestress. "Did she manage to sort her darks and her lights?"
The ancestress in the belle gown snorts. "You mean did she manage to sort her whites and her blacks? She doesn't own anything other than that."
"One might thing this was a sign of piety," says way freaky religious ancestress, "but this one has not one bit of piety in her considerable body."
They agree this is true and watch as I open up the sewing kit and begin to look at the very destroyed bra I plan to mend. This, of course, gets them all to laughing. They know I can't sew for shit.
"I bet six gold pieces she can't even thread the needle."
"You know she can't. She never can. How many chickens is equal to gold pieces? I've only chickens to bet, a fine irony in that, given that this girl has never even gathered an egg."
"No, she's never gathered an egg, but we all get a fine laugh when she tries to take chicken flesh from the bone, do we not?" They all remember how it looks when I do this and they laugh. They laugh so hard that they neglect to see that yes, you damned dead bitches, I did manage to thread the needle.
The ancestress spirits gather close to watch my work. The bra is pretty banged up, but I can't really justify getting a new one right now. One of the crappy things about losing weight is that you really can't get clothes when you know you're just going to be losing more weight. Why have a perfectly new item you know you may not be wearing in a few months?
"At least she is attempting to be frugal and sensible," remarks the ancestress who murdered her sailor husband. "That is new for her."
"Yes, but she's turning that into Frankenbra like she always does. Has she no concept of a straight line or an even stitching? No wonder she hasn't a husband." Yes, because clearly he'd go naked because I can't sew a damned straight line.
I sat and mended the bra, cussing every time one of the needles would slam into my finger tips. All around me, I could hear the chuckles of my ancestresses. I could feel them rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. I lack so many of their basic skills, skills I still need. I try my best, but I'm pretty sure I will never sew that even, straight line. I'll never get all the meat off the chicken carcass. I'll never clean clothes with spit and a rock or however the hell they did it back then.
Despite all that, the bra got fixed and I feel good about it. The dead women got a laugh . . . and I feel good about that too.
Now they just show up to snark at me.
"So what's she up to today?" asks washerwoman ancestress. "Did she manage to sort her darks and her lights?"
The ancestress in the belle gown snorts. "You mean did she manage to sort her whites and her blacks? She doesn't own anything other than that."
"One might thing this was a sign of piety," says way freaky religious ancestress, "but this one has not one bit of piety in her considerable body."
They agree this is true and watch as I open up the sewing kit and begin to look at the very destroyed bra I plan to mend. This, of course, gets them all to laughing. They know I can't sew for shit.
"I bet six gold pieces she can't even thread the needle."
"You know she can't. She never can. How many chickens is equal to gold pieces? I've only chickens to bet, a fine irony in that, given that this girl has never even gathered an egg."
"No, she's never gathered an egg, but we all get a fine laugh when she tries to take chicken flesh from the bone, do we not?" They all remember how it looks when I do this and they laugh. They laugh so hard that they neglect to see that yes, you damned dead bitches, I did manage to thread the needle.
The ancestress spirits gather close to watch my work. The bra is pretty banged up, but I can't really justify getting a new one right now. One of the crappy things about losing weight is that you really can't get clothes when you know you're just going to be losing more weight. Why have a perfectly new item you know you may not be wearing in a few months?
"At least she is attempting to be frugal and sensible," remarks the ancestress who murdered her sailor husband. "That is new for her."
"Yes, but she's turning that into Frankenbra like she always does. Has she no concept of a straight line or an even stitching? No wonder she hasn't a husband." Yes, because clearly he'd go naked because I can't sew a damned straight line.
I sat and mended the bra, cussing every time one of the needles would slam into my finger tips. All around me, I could hear the chuckles of my ancestresses. I could feel them rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. I lack so many of their basic skills, skills I still need. I try my best, but I'm pretty sure I will never sew that even, straight line. I'll never get all the meat off the chicken carcass. I'll never clean clothes with spit and a rock or however the hell they did it back then.
Despite all that, the bra got fixed and I feel good about it. The dead women got a laugh . . . and I feel good about that too.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Small Comforts
When we went to the store today, we found out that Walmart would no longer be carrying my favorite tea. Actually, it will no longer be carrying a lot of different teas, but specifically, it won't have my favorite. This tea is my favorite because it's both flavorful and cheap. It really needs to be both to be a favorite. If it tastes good but costs a lot of money, then it's a luxury I really can't afford. If it's cheap but doesn't taste that great, there is no way it could ever be a favorite. This tea, however, was both. And now it's gone.
This isn't the end of the world. It's not a tragic thing that will forever alter the course of my life. It's certainly not as horrible as many of the things faced by other people today. I'm not going to pretend it is. Having said all of that, it is still the loss of one of the small comforts I had in my life and I will miss it, as I would miss any bit of comfort that is removed from me.
The little comforts in life help to make life easier. Laughter with friends. Runny jokes. Music. The way your face feels after you wash it. And of course, petting a kitty. All of these sentence fragments add up over your day and make it worth all the moments of annoyance and heartache and emptiness. For me, a nice cup of tea was another one of these comforts. I can still have tea, but no longer my favorite one. That's been taken away from me so that Walmart can move in products that are more high end and will be ignored by everyone.
Okay, seriously, Walmart, what is up with that. Poor people can't afford to buy the expensive crap you're starting to carry. The people who CAN afford it don't shop at Walmart. Why are you betraying your audience?
Anyway, I'm going to miss my tea. I loved it a lot. I also hate the fact that another small comfort is gone from my life. I'm sure I will find something else to replace it, but in the meantime, I will mourn my tea. It was good to me. It helped me through many a rough day. I'm going to miss it.
This isn't the end of the world. It's not a tragic thing that will forever alter the course of my life. It's certainly not as horrible as many of the things faced by other people today. I'm not going to pretend it is. Having said all of that, it is still the loss of one of the small comforts I had in my life and I will miss it, as I would miss any bit of comfort that is removed from me.
The little comforts in life help to make life easier. Laughter with friends. Runny jokes. Music. The way your face feels after you wash it. And of course, petting a kitty. All of these sentence fragments add up over your day and make it worth all the moments of annoyance and heartache and emptiness. For me, a nice cup of tea was another one of these comforts. I can still have tea, but no longer my favorite one. That's been taken away from me so that Walmart can move in products that are more high end and will be ignored by everyone.
Okay, seriously, Walmart, what is up with that. Poor people can't afford to buy the expensive crap you're starting to carry. The people who CAN afford it don't shop at Walmart. Why are you betraying your audience?
Anyway, I'm going to miss my tea. I loved it a lot. I also hate the fact that another small comfort is gone from my life. I'm sure I will find something else to replace it, but in the meantime, I will mourn my tea. It was good to me. It helped me through many a rough day. I'm going to miss it.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Thursday Whatnots
My roommate wrote about how he's still recovering from the yard work. He's not alone. My body is still sore from everything I did out there. More over, I'm covered in scrapes and cuts and bruises from outside activities. I'm not good at Outside. I probably never will be.
You'd think that the physical exhaustion from the whole Outside thing would keep me deep in sleep, but that's really not been the case. I've been having a lot of trouble keeping myself asleep. I suspect hot flashes may have something to do with that. I had another one this evening and it sucked. I'd really hoped this phase of my life wouldn't be such a big deal. Seems my hope won't pan out.
I've been in a bit of shutty downy mode lately. If I've not been talking to you as much as you would like, don't think I'm upset or anything. Certainly don't think I dislike you. I'm just somewhat emotionally shut down right now. That happens from time to time, even with meds. Everyone and everything just gets to be too much for me. Maybe it's just the taxing end of summer. Maybe it was my grandmother's birthday. I'm really not sure. Hell, it could just be another menopause thing.
We're supposed to cool down tomorrow and I hope it happens. I need some cool weather so I can get better sleep. Maybe if it gets cool enough, I can sleep through the stupid middle of the night stupid hot flashes. It would be nice.
You'd think that the physical exhaustion from the whole Outside thing would keep me deep in sleep, but that's really not been the case. I've been having a lot of trouble keeping myself asleep. I suspect hot flashes may have something to do with that. I had another one this evening and it sucked. I'd really hoped this phase of my life wouldn't be such a big deal. Seems my hope won't pan out.
I've been in a bit of shutty downy mode lately. If I've not been talking to you as much as you would like, don't think I'm upset or anything. Certainly don't think I dislike you. I'm just somewhat emotionally shut down right now. That happens from time to time, even with meds. Everyone and everything just gets to be too much for me. Maybe it's just the taxing end of summer. Maybe it was my grandmother's birthday. I'm really not sure. Hell, it could just be another menopause thing.
We're supposed to cool down tomorrow and I hope it happens. I need some cool weather so I can get better sleep. Maybe if it gets cool enough, I can sleep through the stupid middle of the night stupid hot flashes. It would be nice.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
First Pets
As I have mentioned before, my roommate is very good about taming cats. He patiently worked with Alice for months, gaining her trust and eventually bringing her inside to become part of our household. He has done the same with Tinkerbell, though she still only hangs out in his room and seems to think I'm the Devil.
A while back, a new cat arrived on our porch. He was short and orange, so we named him Clementine. Clem was very mistrustful of humans and seems to have some physical issues. He's also not very smart. Despite all of this, he is beautiful and adorable. My roommate, as is his way, has been working on getting Clem to trust him and to perhaps understand his name. It's not easy, due to everything I mentioned.
A few weeks ago, my roommate suggested that I try to see if Clem would respond to me. I went outside and tried to coax him over. It didn't work to well, though he did flounce down on the porch in front of me. He was still out of arms' reach, but it was something. My roommate saw this as a positive response.
Yesterday, I got to pet him for the first time. I'd been walking through the living room and he meowed at me from the porch. I went out and spoke to him, tapping the floor and tisking at him to see if he would come over. It took a while. He had to walk towards me and then back away several times. Eventually, however, he allowed me to pet him.
There are a million glorious things in life, so many small bright spots that make living a joy. One of the main ones for me is petting a kitty and the first time I get to pet a new kitty is always wonderful for me. Clem's fur is short and kind of stiff. Like most outside cats, he's very solid and strong. He has a big head and smallish ears. He loves to push his head against you and rub, letting you know he enjoys the petting and enjoys you.
I stayed out there for as long as I could, happy in this new level of our relationship. I have to thank my roommate for this, because he is the one who civilized Clem enough to know that all humans aren't evil. I'm grateful to him for that and I'm grateful for getting to pet Clem. I'm glad he's in our lives now. Sweet kitty.
A while back, a new cat arrived on our porch. He was short and orange, so we named him Clementine. Clem was very mistrustful of humans and seems to have some physical issues. He's also not very smart. Despite all of this, he is beautiful and adorable. My roommate, as is his way, has been working on getting Clem to trust him and to perhaps understand his name. It's not easy, due to everything I mentioned.
A few weeks ago, my roommate suggested that I try to see if Clem would respond to me. I went outside and tried to coax him over. It didn't work to well, though he did flounce down on the porch in front of me. He was still out of arms' reach, but it was something. My roommate saw this as a positive response.
Yesterday, I got to pet him for the first time. I'd been walking through the living room and he meowed at me from the porch. I went out and spoke to him, tapping the floor and tisking at him to see if he would come over. It took a while. He had to walk towards me and then back away several times. Eventually, however, he allowed me to pet him.
There are a million glorious things in life, so many small bright spots that make living a joy. One of the main ones for me is petting a kitty and the first time I get to pet a new kitty is always wonderful for me. Clem's fur is short and kind of stiff. Like most outside cats, he's very solid and strong. He has a big head and smallish ears. He loves to push his head against you and rub, letting you know he enjoys the petting and enjoys you.
I stayed out there for as long as I could, happy in this new level of our relationship. I have to thank my roommate for this, because he is the one who civilized Clem enough to know that all humans aren't evil. I'm grateful to him for that and I'm grateful for getting to pet Clem. I'm glad he's in our lives now. Sweet kitty.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Scarred for Life
There are some disconnects here. I have no idea how this movie could have been played at my aunt's house. There weren't even VCRs at that point. To be honest, I may be associating the movie and her house without there really being an actual connection between the two. I'm really not sure because the whole thing is fuzzy.
Anyway, the movie that I think this memory is connected to is called Fantastic Planet. I put it on the Netflix list and anticipate its arrival, as perhaps this will clear up some things about this odd memory I have. Maybe, at least, it will allow me to be less freaked out about the whole experience.
Make no mistake, there was something about what I saw of this movie that scarred part of my psyche. Being small and helpless is part of the plight of a child. To see it magnified by watching a tiny human at the mercy of giant blue people made it all the more horrifying. In a weird way, I think I possibly recall this memory every day of my life, if only for a few seconds.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Evil Yard: Day Two
THE YARD WORK IS FINISHED!
Yes, I am celebrating. We've been celebrating since this morning. We finished before ten and now can rest easy for another year. The trimming of trees and bushes is over. The vast, seemingly endless piles of fallen branches are pulled to the edge of the yard. everything else has been raked and cleared and looks lovey.
Okay, the peach tree doesn't look lovely. The peach tree looks like it lost a fight with a tornado, but my roommate did research before he trimmed it and found out you're supposed to take a lot of it down. It's the best way to ensure that it will flourish next year. While all this makes logical sense, right now, the peach tree looks kind of sad.
Aside from that, everything else looks great. I'm really proud of us. We didn't put this off. We didn't let it overwhelm us. We kept up good spirits during the process and encouraged each other.
As for my personal accomplishments:
Yes, I am celebrating. We've been celebrating since this morning. We finished before ten and now can rest easy for another year. The trimming of trees and bushes is over. The vast, seemingly endless piles of fallen branches are pulled to the edge of the yard. everything else has been raked and cleared and looks lovey.
Okay, the peach tree doesn't look lovely. The peach tree looks like it lost a fight with a tornado, but my roommate did research before he trimmed it and found out you're supposed to take a lot of it down. It's the best way to ensure that it will flourish next year. While all this makes logical sense, right now, the peach tree looks kind of sad.
Aside from that, everything else looks great. I'm really proud of us. We didn't put this off. We didn't let it overwhelm us. We kept up good spirits during the process and encouraged each other.
As for my personal accomplishments:
- I didn't procrastinate. I knew what needed to be done and made sure to get myself out there to do it.
- I respected my limitations. I took a chair with me and sat down when I was too tired to stand.
- I also tried to respect my strength. I stood for as long as I could. I reached as far as I could and tried to make one more bend than I assumed I could make.
- I possessed more upper body strength than before. I wielded the rake with more ability and didn't drop it as often.
- I possessed, perhaps for the first time in my life, more grace than usual. I navigated my treacherous, hole-rattled yard and didn't fall once. Not even when I was walking backwards.
- I was brave in a lot of ways.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Evil Yard: Day One
I'm so tired tonight. This has been yard work weekend and it's not been easy. As much as I enjoy looking at the trees and bushes in the yard, I do not enjoy raking up their hacked off limbs after they get trimmed. It's always an exhausting, overwhelming mess . . . at least at first. Once we get started, it's really not that bad.
We're about half way through the process and we're on the easier part of that half because everything is closer to the drop off point and less densely evil. I'll still be raking and piling tomorrow, but no where near as much as I did today. Today I cursed every broken branch that it end up in someone's really horrible picture frame. Today I considered just setting the yard on fire.
My roommate made it go easier. He did all of the trimming and legwork. I mainly just piled stuff onto the canvas and cursed at it. I did brave some scary sinkholes in the back yard though. I have no idea where those came from.
We're about half way through the process and we're on the easier part of that half because everything is closer to the drop off point and less densely evil. I'll still be raking and piling tomorrow, but no where near as much as I did today. Today I cursed every broken branch that it end up in someone's really horrible picture frame. Today I considered just setting the yard on fire.
My roommate made it go easier. He did all of the trimming and legwork. I mainly just piled stuff onto the canvas and cursed at it. I did brave some scary sinkholes in the back yard though. I have no idea where those came from.
Friday, September 13, 2013
The New Batch of Crazy
For over a year now, my roommate and I have been changing aspects of our lifestyle in order to get healthier. Through this process, we've both been losing weight. Losing weight, when you do it the way we're going about it, is a slow process. Even still, results happen and said results take on some interesting little psychological twisties.
This is going to sound like a humble brag and I don't mean it that way, but last week, he asked me how I was doing on pants. When I looked at him in confusion, he said, "You're losing your butt. Your pants are really starting not to fit." Even though this is true and most pants (and shirts, for that matter) are beginning to fit in a far looser fashion, I told him I was fine. I didn't need anything new.
Today, when we were discussing the clothing and new sizes situation, I mentioned that changing sizes is a big step. It's almost a scary step. It makes the weight loss all the more real. He brought up the fact that I'd already gone down a size on my underwear (I now get more style options! And colors!), but this isn't the same thing. No one sees my panties so it's still private and quietly mine. People see my outer clothing. It's different when those sizes are going down.
I don't believe I even will or should go down any. Part of my mind refuses to admit that I've possibly lost enough weight for that to be an issue. "Your clothes are only so big because you've stretched them out," my mind will protest. "If you got new clothes in that size, they wouldn't be as loose. They probably wouldn't fit at all because you're probably too big for them."
Now, understand, I don't feel ashamed when I think that. Frustrated and annoyed but my limited options, but not ashamed. I just accept it as the state of my life. What my mind cannot accept is that perhaps the state of my life is truly changing. Perhaps new clothes at my current size truly would be as loose as the ones I have now. Even as I type that, there is this strange undercurrent of fear.
I wish I could tell you why. I really don't have the answer to that. As much as most of the sane, rational part of me rejoices at the prospect of not having to haul all this weight around with me, there is another part of me that is terrified by the idea. That part is so terrified that it tries, on almost a constant basis, to convince me that weight loss isn't possible. It's not happening and if it is happening, it's probably only because I've contracted some chronic illness and will soon die.
The more weight I lose, the louder this voice is getting. I really don' understand it and I'm very unhappy about it. I already have laziness and greed trying to keep me at an unhealthy weight. I don't need Crazytown McScaredofSkinny squawking at me as well. I know I'll get past it, but right now, this new batch of crazy is really getting on my nerves. I think I'll go see if I can put it to sleep for a while.
Today, when we were discussing the clothing and new sizes situation, I mentioned that changing sizes is a big step. It's almost a scary step. It makes the weight loss all the more real. He brought up the fact that I'd already gone down a size on my underwear (I now get more style options! And colors!), but this isn't the same thing. No one sees my panties so it's still private and quietly mine. People see my outer clothing. It's different when those sizes are going down.
I don't believe I even will or should go down any. Part of my mind refuses to admit that I've possibly lost enough weight for that to be an issue. "Your clothes are only so big because you've stretched them out," my mind will protest. "If you got new clothes in that size, they wouldn't be as loose. They probably wouldn't fit at all because you're probably too big for them."
Now, understand, I don't feel ashamed when I think that. Frustrated and annoyed but my limited options, but not ashamed. I just accept it as the state of my life. What my mind cannot accept is that perhaps the state of my life is truly changing. Perhaps new clothes at my current size truly would be as loose as the ones I have now. Even as I type that, there is this strange undercurrent of fear.
I wish I could tell you why. I really don't have the answer to that. As much as most of the sane, rational part of me rejoices at the prospect of not having to haul all this weight around with me, there is another part of me that is terrified by the idea. That part is so terrified that it tries, on almost a constant basis, to convince me that weight loss isn't possible. It's not happening and if it is happening, it's probably only because I've contracted some chronic illness and will soon die.
The more weight I lose, the louder this voice is getting. I really don' understand it and I'm very unhappy about it. I already have laziness and greed trying to keep me at an unhealthy weight. I don't need Crazytown McScaredofSkinny squawking at me as well. I know I'll get past it, but right now, this new batch of crazy is really getting on my nerves. I think I'll go see if I can put it to sleep for a while.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Let the Sun Shine In
Yesterday I happened to look up at the curtain and noticed it had gained layer of fuzz, cat fur, and ick. I think I may have screamed in horror or something. At any rate, soon after, my roommate and I decided it was a good idea to wash the curtains. He's almost 6' tall and I'm 5'5" or so, meaning he is the one who takes the curtains down. He got the ones from the living room and the ones in my bedroom, then took down the curtains we had on a couple of doorways.
As I sat there looking at the living room, I realized that the house actually looked deeply pleasingly wonderful with all the fabric gone. It looked clean and streamlined and so open. I thought about how hard winter can be in the house, how light is lost and things just feel depressing. When my roommate came back into the living room, he could tell the same thing. The curtains needed a break for a while.
The problem is, the tops of our windows are ugly. There are the scars of the many different curtaining experiences and the tops of the blinds. We decided we needed valances or some other type of window topper. We assumed it would be easy to find these at a reasonable price.
Oh, how wrong we were!
We looked at several stores within our meager price range. Window toppers were either 1. ugly, 2. for children, 3. garish, 4. expensive, or 5. nonexistent. We drove home, my roommate declaring this is why people shop online for everything these days. I agreed, assuming, we'd find something within minutes. NOPE! Ugly, for children, garish, expensive, or nonexistent seemed to be our only options online as well.
During the evening, my roommate looked at the fabric we have in the house. It's free, not for children, clearly in existence, not ugly, and not garish . . . but, at the same time, also just not suited to window toppers. We thought about what to do and finally arrived at a very pragmatic conclusion. Window toppers will happen when they happen. For now, we'll be fine with naked windows. It's not like we have guests over all the time or anything, so we can wait for the right attractive, mature, beautifully dyed, inexpensive valances to come into our reality.
See, kids, sometimes love DOES wait.
As I sat there looking at the living room, I realized that the house actually looked deeply pleasingly wonderful with all the fabric gone. It looked clean and streamlined and so open. I thought about how hard winter can be in the house, how light is lost and things just feel depressing. When my roommate came back into the living room, he could tell the same thing. The curtains needed a break for a while.
The problem is, the tops of our windows are ugly. There are the scars of the many different curtaining experiences and the tops of the blinds. We decided we needed valances or some other type of window topper. We assumed it would be easy to find these at a reasonable price.
Oh, how wrong we were!
We looked at several stores within our meager price range. Window toppers were either 1. ugly, 2. for children, 3. garish, 4. expensive, or 5. nonexistent. We drove home, my roommate declaring this is why people shop online for everything these days. I agreed, assuming, we'd find something within minutes. NOPE! Ugly, for children, garish, expensive, or nonexistent seemed to be our only options online as well.
During the evening, my roommate looked at the fabric we have in the house. It's free, not for children, clearly in existence, not ugly, and not garish . . . but, at the same time, also just not suited to window toppers. We thought about what to do and finally arrived at a very pragmatic conclusion. Window toppers will happen when they happen. For now, we'll be fine with naked windows. It's not like we have guests over all the time or anything, so we can wait for the right attractive, mature, beautifully dyed, inexpensive valances to come into our reality.
See, kids, sometimes love DOES wait.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Forward 40
My birthday is coming up at the end of the year and this is a big one. I'm not upset about turning 40, though I have to admit I'm a little freaked out that it's happening. I've been thinking about what I want my 40s to be like. This is kind of a new thing for me.
During the first decade of my life, I didn't have a lot of power, so I basically just drifted and tried my best to survive. During my teen years, I was caught up in unrealistic dreams and plans that never could have worked out. During my 20s . . . okay, they were basically like the decade before. I basically drifted with no real plans. My 30s were hellish and I'm lucky I'm making it out of them.
Having said that about my 30s, I did learn some stuff. I learned that I need plans. I need direction. I need to start setting long and short term goals. I need to set those goals in ways that are actually possible. I need to find balance, savor the moment, and find meaning in my days.
Over the next few months, I think I'm going to explore various options for my Forward 40. I'm going to consider various themes and paths that seem interesting and possible for me. I won't be doing it every day, don't worry. On occasion though, my next decade will be discussed.
During the first decade of my life, I didn't have a lot of power, so I basically just drifted and tried my best to survive. During my teen years, I was caught up in unrealistic dreams and plans that never could have worked out. During my 20s . . . okay, they were basically like the decade before. I basically drifted with no real plans. My 30s were hellish and I'm lucky I'm making it out of them.
Having said that about my 30s, I did learn some stuff. I learned that I need plans. I need direction. I need to start setting long and short term goals. I need to set those goals in ways that are actually possible. I need to find balance, savor the moment, and find meaning in my days.
Over the next few months, I think I'm going to explore various options for my Forward 40. I'm going to consider various themes and paths that seem interesting and possible for me. I won't be doing it every day, don't worry. On occasion though, my next decade will be discussed.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Tink Update and Plans
Miss Tinkerbell continues to be the elusive kitty in the house. Most of the time, she stays in my roommate's bedroom. He reports she often sleeps on his bedside table, an arrangement made awkward by her insistence on licking his hand at random times of the night. Tink has one of those soft kitty tongues and while it might seem that anything would be better than sandpaper cat tongue, those of us who are used to that find soft cat tongues to be disconcerting.
Tink remains apprehensive of me. We're not really surprised by this. It took my roommate several years to get her to trust him and I'm a fairly imposing person to handle. It doesn't help that almost everyday that I go to change the litter box, she's in there. I think she believes me to be some kind of fetishist.
Perhaps when winter arrives she will change her opinion of me and the living room. After all, when the weather is cold, Mister Hiss (as we call the stove in the living room) weaves a seductive song of warmth and comfort. Like many a cat before her, she will probably fall under his enchantments and join us as we try to keep from freezing.
It's even possible that she may fall under the spell of the blankets and afghans that will be covering us. Perhaps, like other cats before her, she will hop up on the couch or the ottoman and nestle onto the lap of a warm human. Of course, she'll tell herself she's only doing it for the warmth, but it's quite possible she'll begin to enjoy the petting and the scratching behind her ears that comes along with it.
Hee! Kitty, you will be mine!
Tink remains apprehensive of me. We're not really surprised by this. It took my roommate several years to get her to trust him and I'm a fairly imposing person to handle. It doesn't help that almost everyday that I go to change the litter box, she's in there. I think she believes me to be some kind of fetishist.
Perhaps when winter arrives she will change her opinion of me and the living room. After all, when the weather is cold, Mister Hiss (as we call the stove in the living room) weaves a seductive song of warmth and comfort. Like many a cat before her, she will probably fall under his enchantments and join us as we try to keep from freezing.
It's even possible that she may fall under the spell of the blankets and afghans that will be covering us. Perhaps, like other cats before her, she will hop up on the couch or the ottoman and nestle onto the lap of a warm human. Of course, she'll tell herself she's only doing it for the warmth, but it's quite possible she'll begin to enjoy the petting and the scratching behind her ears that comes along with it.
Hee! Kitty, you will be mine!
Monday, September 9, 2013
Monday Monday?
My roommate thought it was Friday all day and I honestly have no idea what day I thought it was. Wednesday? Who knows? Intellectually, of course, we both knew it was Monday. It just didn't feel like Monday. Maybe there was a lack of pain and suffering? I'm still not really sure. Anyway, by evening, we convinced ourselves it truly was Monday and watched our Monday shows as a reward.
We watched the next to last episode of Siberia. Siberia is really awful and has very few likable characters on it. It's kind of a cross between a fake reality show and a horror show that has very little actual horror to it. There is a lot of build up, with very little payoff. Yet, somehow, it's oddly entertaining. Maybe it's because I wanted a lot of these people to bite it. Sadly, most of them didn't.
One of my friends recently mentioned that the weeks when Summer is winding down and Fall is starting to really happen are like the hardest weeks of the year. Maybe they're not for some people, but for me, and for other people who truly love Autumn, these last weeks of Summer always suck. I want it to be over. I want my Fall shows and my hoodie. I want to sleep under blankets and not have to park the van almost to the edge of the driveway so that it will be in shade. I'm really over this Summer stuff. It needs to end.
Aww, see? I'm still complaining about the weather, even though I intended not to. Oh well, I also thought I would be past the worst of it when I made that promise. That somehow didn't happen. The best laid plans, you know . . .
We watched the next to last episode of Siberia. Siberia is really awful and has very few likable characters on it. It's kind of a cross between a fake reality show and a horror show that has very little actual horror to it. There is a lot of build up, with very little payoff. Yet, somehow, it's oddly entertaining. Maybe it's because I wanted a lot of these people to bite it. Sadly, most of them didn't.
One of my friends recently mentioned that the weeks when Summer is winding down and Fall is starting to really happen are like the hardest weeks of the year. Maybe they're not for some people, but for me, and for other people who truly love Autumn, these last weeks of Summer always suck. I want it to be over. I want my Fall shows and my hoodie. I want to sleep under blankets and not have to park the van almost to the edge of the driveway so that it will be in shade. I'm really over this Summer stuff. It needs to end.
Aww, see? I'm still complaining about the weather, even though I intended not to. Oh well, I also thought I would be past the worst of it when I made that promise. That somehow didn't happen. The best laid plans, you know . . .
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Not Worth Digesting
Okay. Everyone who reads this knows that weight loss is an ongoing struggle for me. It's something I've been battling most of my life. Not just my adult live, mind you, but honestly, I've been dealing with Teh Fatz since I was a little kid. It sucks.
As you also know, I try to look on the bright side of things. In this case, I would say the bright side is that I finally accepted that losing weight is a long term process full of struggle, disappointment, boredom, annoyance, and pain. All of this bad stuff is offset by the glorious feeling of smaller hips. And it is a glorious feeling. The point being, I've gotten past the point where I believe losing weight can happen as the result of some quick fix. And yay for that, if this link is any indication of what that quick fix could be.
Enzymes from skinny people crap. ACTUALLY FROM THEIR FECAL MATTER. Ewwww. Seriously ewww. And yes, I get that the enzymes would be processed somehow and that you wouldn't actually be taking full out feces from someone else into your body, but still, this is nasty. No, this is narstay. Just truly deeply narstay.
I get the idea. I can understand how this would work. It is an interesting concept and if the results were really great.............no, no. Nevermind. It still involves other people's crap so no. No. No. No.
I'll stick to old fashion struggling.
As you also know, I try to look on the bright side of things. In this case, I would say the bright side is that I finally accepted that losing weight is a long term process full of struggle, disappointment, boredom, annoyance, and pain. All of this bad stuff is offset by the glorious feeling of smaller hips. And it is a glorious feeling. The point being, I've gotten past the point where I believe losing weight can happen as the result of some quick fix. And yay for that, if this link is any indication of what that quick fix could be.
Enzymes from skinny people crap. ACTUALLY FROM THEIR FECAL MATTER. Ewwww. Seriously ewww. And yes, I get that the enzymes would be processed somehow and that you wouldn't actually be taking full out feces from someone else into your body, but still, this is nasty. No, this is narstay. Just truly deeply narstay.
I get the idea. I can understand how this would work. It is an interesting concept and if the results were really great.............no, no. Nevermind. It still involves other people's crap so no. No. No. No.
I'll stick to old fashion struggling.
Friday, September 6, 2013
Flash Dance
Several days ago, I had an episode where I got hellishly hot, really to the point of almost passing out. The thing is, it was hot that day. The AC was on and I happened to be in my room at the time, which was hotter than the rest of the house. I brushed it off as just one of those things.
Today though, it happened again. The process was slower and I noticed that unlike the rest of the time when I get hot, this was more of a hot from inside me that radiated outward. It was sudden and pretty horrible. I felt queasy and regretted everything I'd eaten for days. In fact, the idea of food disgusted me. I stayed in my room until the worst of it was over. As I was recovering, I began to accept the reality of what this was. I was having a hot flash.
In one way, I guess this is good news. I never wanted kids and the idea of getting past the 'fertile' stage of my life is pretty awesome. I can continue on without pads or tampons or all that other stuff. On the other hand, this hot flash thing was goddamned horrible and I now understand why menopausal women decide to hate the world.
I'm seeing my doctor next month and this will certainly be discussed. I've read up on herbals, but I don't like one of them and can't take one of them, so we'll see if there are alternatives. There are other things I can do, though honestly, the main ones seem to involve just trying not to get too hot. Stellar advice, people. Seriously.
Anyway, so this is the new phase of my life. I suppose this kind of thing happens once people hit my age. It's odd, really. Then again, the alternative to aging doesn't really sound all that appealing.
Though of these hot flashes get any worse, it might.
Today though, it happened again. The process was slower and I noticed that unlike the rest of the time when I get hot, this was more of a hot from inside me that radiated outward. It was sudden and pretty horrible. I felt queasy and regretted everything I'd eaten for days. In fact, the idea of food disgusted me. I stayed in my room until the worst of it was over. As I was recovering, I began to accept the reality of what this was. I was having a hot flash.
In one way, I guess this is good news. I never wanted kids and the idea of getting past the 'fertile' stage of my life is pretty awesome. I can continue on without pads or tampons or all that other stuff. On the other hand, this hot flash thing was goddamned horrible and I now understand why menopausal women decide to hate the world.
I'm seeing my doctor next month and this will certainly be discussed. I've read up on herbals, but I don't like one of them and can't take one of them, so we'll see if there are alternatives. There are other things I can do, though honestly, the main ones seem to involve just trying not to get too hot. Stellar advice, people. Seriously.
Anyway, so this is the new phase of my life. I suppose this kind of thing happens once people hit my age. It's odd, really. Then again, the alternative to aging doesn't really sound all that appealing.
Though of these hot flashes get any worse, it might.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Yay Good Sleeping Weather!
This isn't going to be a long post. It's good sleeping weather for the first time in forever and I intend to take full advantage of that! Seriously, the weather is just delicious right now. It's 72 and there isn't enough humidity to cause the heat index to be altered from that 72. It's wonderful.
Anyway, I hope everyone else has a good night of sleep! I'll write more tomorrow.
Anyway, I hope everyone else has a good night of sleep! I'll write more tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Perfect Girl
So one of my FB people posted this article by some woman who has sons and seems to think she's being a good person. Basically, she believes she should look on her son's social media places and if a girl doesn't meet her standard of 'decency,' she blocks the girl from her son's page. She believes this form of slut shaming in the name of being a good parent is not only perfectly acceptable but something that the girls should thank her for. Yes, by all means, woman, thank you so much for making me feel bad for wanting to express my newly formed sense of sexuality. *rolls eyes*
Anyway, there seems to be a lot of this kind of thing going on lately. I'm finding more and more people bemoaning how immodest young girls are, as if that was all there was to them or all we should value about them. It makes me sick. So, between all the suggestions and comments, I think I've come up with a new clothing design to market to young girls. It's kind of like a thick snuggie with sleeves. I call it The PerfectGirl! This is my mock up. I hope it sells well.
Anyway, there seems to be a lot of this kind of thing going on lately. I'm finding more and more people bemoaning how immodest young girls are, as if that was all there was to them or all we should value about them. It makes me sick. So, between all the suggestions and comments, I think I've come up with a new clothing design to market to young girls. It's kind of like a thick snuggie with sleeves. I call it The PerfectGirl! This is my mock up. I hope it sells well.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
My New Love
While I was busy doing my 30 Day Challenge, I made a new discovery and am all the better for it. There is a bimonthly podcast called Welcome to Night Vale that now rocks my world. Set in roughly half hour segments, the story is told in the form of announcements broadcast my Cecil, the dj at Night Vale Community Radio. Cecil has a soothing voice and rather proper ideas about how the world should be. He's adorable in a Tim Gunn kind of way. He's obsessed with a new scientist who moved to town named Carlos.
Carlos claims to have come to Night Vale because it's the most 'scientifically interesting' town in America. That's putting it mildly. Night Vale has evil politicians, even more evil librarians, a five headed dragon, angels, mysterious hooded figures, and a dog park that is so sinister no one is even supposed to talk about it.
During each broadcast, Cecil tells the story of whatever weird event is happening in the town, occasionally adding in community announcements, health tips, or other news worthy items. And even though everything he says is strange, he speaks about it as if it's just an everyday thing and no big deal. This actually makes it all the more fun.
The best part about the show, however, is that small details mentioned in one episode may come back at a later point to be a major plot point. This kind of structured storytelling gives the town a feeling of realness, even if everything happening there is quite insane.
There are also some large plot elements that are happening. I'm quite invested in Cecil's relationship with Carlos and the potential for a new mayor (right now, the 5 headed dragon and the woman with no face seem to be the most likely contenders). I also really want intern Dana to make it back home (if she does, she'll be the only Night Vale Community Radio intern to not have met a horrible ending). If you enjoy the weird, you might want to give it a try. You'll be a happier person for it.
Carlos claims to have come to Night Vale because it's the most 'scientifically interesting' town in America. That's putting it mildly. Night Vale has evil politicians, even more evil librarians, a five headed dragon, angels, mysterious hooded figures, and a dog park that is so sinister no one is even supposed to talk about it.
During each broadcast, Cecil tells the story of whatever weird event is happening in the town, occasionally adding in community announcements, health tips, or other news worthy items. And even though everything he says is strange, he speaks about it as if it's just an everyday thing and no big deal. This actually makes it all the more fun.
The best part about the show, however, is that small details mentioned in one episode may come back at a later point to be a major plot point. This kind of structured storytelling gives the town a feeling of realness, even if everything happening there is quite insane.
There are also some large plot elements that are happening. I'm quite invested in Cecil's relationship with Carlos and the potential for a new mayor (right now, the 5 headed dragon and the woman with no face seem to be the most likely contenders). I also really want intern Dana to make it back home (if she does, she'll be the only Night Vale Community Radio intern to not have met a horrible ending). If you enjoy the weird, you might want to give it a try. You'll be a happier person for it.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Posts from Former Days
Because I lack focus tonight, I decided I would look back at last year's post and the year before that's post and see what I was writing about. As usual, it wasn't what I thought it would be. I thought by September of last year, I was still deep in the emotional pit of writing about my school years. I guess I'd quit by then.
Interestingly enough, the posts had a common theme, even though they were a year apart. Last year's post was about me trying to be positive and even fluffy about my life, even though things were hot and kind of shitty. I talked about how Sims 3: Supernatural was coming out and it would be mine (one way or the other). I talked about how I was looking forward to wearing hoodies again and having cats who wanted to cuddle with me. I talked about how I would get to soon close up the house and not have to deal with freaky scary mutant bugs crawling on me.
Over all, I was just trying my best to stay positive. I've been told that if you make a habit of positive thinking, you'll get addicted to those chemicals and try to keep yourself there. So far, that's not worked for me, but I have hope.
The year before that, my post was about those little games that used to happen on Facebook where people would try to raise cancer awareness by listing their bra color or their shoe size. That kind of thing seems to have stopped. I find that a little sad because it was harmless, but also a little relieving because people were trying to do them all the time.
Anyway, my post was about the fact that I liked this kind of awareness raising because it allowed you to think about the very dangerous and serious issue of breast cancer in a way that didn't require it to be dangerous or serious. I discussed the fact that people can usually digest information when they're not having negative emotions about it. With something like breast cancer, that isn't easy. But in this case, it was a small something that could perhaps help.
So as you can see, two years running we witnessed one of the constant challenges of my life. Even in the midst of all the bad and all the negative, I try to find some way to stay happy about things. This isn't the pattern of thought I was raised with, but it is the one I'm trying (and usually failing) to cultivate as an adult. Honestly, because life is just too short to spend it being unhappy all the time.
Interestingly enough, the posts had a common theme, even though they were a year apart. Last year's post was about me trying to be positive and even fluffy about my life, even though things were hot and kind of shitty. I talked about how Sims 3: Supernatural was coming out and it would be mine (one way or the other). I talked about how I was looking forward to wearing hoodies again and having cats who wanted to cuddle with me. I talked about how I would get to soon close up the house and not have to deal with freaky scary mutant bugs crawling on me.
Over all, I was just trying my best to stay positive. I've been told that if you make a habit of positive thinking, you'll get addicted to those chemicals and try to keep yourself there. So far, that's not worked for me, but I have hope.
The year before that, my post was about those little games that used to happen on Facebook where people would try to raise cancer awareness by listing their bra color or their shoe size. That kind of thing seems to have stopped. I find that a little sad because it was harmless, but also a little relieving because people were trying to do them all the time.
Anyway, my post was about the fact that I liked this kind of awareness raising because it allowed you to think about the very dangerous and serious issue of breast cancer in a way that didn't require it to be dangerous or serious. I discussed the fact that people can usually digest information when they're not having negative emotions about it. With something like breast cancer, that isn't easy. But in this case, it was a small something that could perhaps help.
So as you can see, two years running we witnessed one of the constant challenges of my life. Even in the midst of all the bad and all the negative, I try to find some way to stay happy about things. This isn't the pattern of thought I was raised with, but it is the one I'm trying (and usually failing) to cultivate as an adult. Honestly, because life is just too short to spend it being unhappy all the time.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Labor Day Weekend
It's supposed to be cooler tonight and I am so happy about that. The last week or so hasn't been easy. In fact, it was over 100 today and I find that rather unacceptable for September. The weather should start drifting back down, with temps hitting only in the low 80s this week and settling into the high 70s by the end of the month. But Halloween, it should be cold enough that costumes are marred by coats. No fun for the kids, but fun for me, as I like it cold.
Summer isn't officially over, of course, but I am happy to know that I've braved through another one. I survived being 39 during the hot of the year and now I get to enjoy some months of cooler weather before I have to worry about this heat insanity again. You have no idea how happy that makes me.
I've been trying to get inspired about things but it just isn't really working for me right now. Maybe I need a different approach. I have to find a way to be able to be creative and focused while still being on my meds. It isn't easy, but it really has to start happening because I know that if I'm ever going to dig myself out of my hole of poverty, my creativity is the way to do it.
Anyway, I hope everyone has a lovely Labor Day weekend. We're enjoying apple barrios and ice cream for my roommate's birthday. It's sticky, sweet, and wonderful.
Summer isn't officially over, of course, but I am happy to know that I've braved through another one. I survived being 39 during the hot of the year and now I get to enjoy some months of cooler weather before I have to worry about this heat insanity again. You have no idea how happy that makes me.
I've been trying to get inspired about things but it just isn't really working for me right now. Maybe I need a different approach. I have to find a way to be able to be creative and focused while still being on my meds. It isn't easy, but it really has to start happening because I know that if I'm ever going to dig myself out of my hole of poverty, my creativity is the way to do it.
Anyway, I hope everyone has a lovely Labor Day weekend. We're enjoying apple barrios and ice cream for my roommate's birthday. It's sticky, sweet, and wonderful.
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