Archive for February, 2009

Dear Desmond

February 28, 2009 at 6:32 pm · Filed under iHurt

Dear Des,

I wish when my gut said to go home this morning, I had listened instead of staying out for lunch…even though I know that by then, it was probably already too late.

And when Mom called to tell me Napoleon was barking incessantly and sounded upset, I’m sorry I told her he was probably just playing with Louis, and not to worry about it. Even though again, I know it was probably already too late.

I wish when I went through the morning ritual before I left, of putting everything away, unplugging all the cords, taking care of all those little things I take care of to make sure everyone stays safe, that I could have read your mind and known you would decide that today of all days would be a good day to act like a kitten again and look for mischief. I’m sorry I trusted your “grown-up” demeanor to mean you would curl up next to the dogs like you do…did…every day, and snooze through the rainy day.

I wish you hadn’t gotten a wild hair and climbed up on the dresser, and then onto the rat cage. I wish you hadn’t pulled down the loop from the blinds, and I wish you hadn’t played with it. I wish you hadn’t fallen with the cord around your neck.

I wish I had come home sooner. I wish I had thought of what you might try. I wish you hadn’t died, and died alone at that.

I wish the stupid crematory was open, and I’m sorry for where you have to stay right now because they’re not.

To find some semblance of peace, I went to the pound and picked out a sad, tiny kitten whose littermates had all been adopted. He’s not you, he’s not for keeps, and I don’t even really like him that much yet, to be honest. You would probably hate him – he’s little and fluffy and loud. But something good had to come of today, and Napoleon and Louis are so upset they won’t eat or play or go outside. I saw where Louis moved the dresser to try to get to you, and that Napoleon wouldn’t leave your side or stop licking your face until I took you away. They’re now laying on either side of the baby, and their tails are starting to wag a little as they try to comfort the new charge.

Tonight there won’t be anyone stretched out atop my side while I sleep, and tomorrow morning, there won’t be anyone yelling in my ear for breakfast or trying to bolt out the door for a game of chase-me when the dogs go out. There won’t be anyone hogging the space heater, or grabbing the bedroom door with their claws to hold it open and run after me when I try to leave. And there won’t be anyone blinking at me lazily from the cubby with the blankets, or squawking at my feet, or purring ecstatically in my arms when I come home tomorrow night, either. And I’m not going to know what to do.

I could tell you I’m sorry a million times, but it wouldn’t bring you back. So in peace, “boyfriend.” This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

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Further proof that I am a dork

February 27, 2009 at 1:12 am · Filed under Gripes & Grumpings, Happy-Type Stuff, Life As I Know It, iHurt ·Tagged , , ,

A) Hamster Dance is now my ringtone (it makes me laugh, shuddup). Wouldn’t you be happy waking up in the morning if that was your alarm?  Lemme tell you, waking up with a totally unapologetic giggle is fun.

B) I get a kick out of this absolutely nonsensical looniness every time (’specially around the 4:50 mark, because I’m a tad twisted). Best viewed with alcohol, LSD or at the very least, a sick and sadly juvenile sense of humor. Just sayin’. And no, dear hearts, it is not supposed to make sense.

“This is fuuuuun-nah!”

“It’s like I can touch you!”

Okay, enough weirdness that is probably not all that amusing to the real world. I’m, admittedly, in a funk. I hate everything at the moment, and I’m having some seriously unhappy fall-out from Tuesday’s over-sharing session (like in a big, dependent, mentally ucky kind of way). When I told the universe I wanted a break, I did not mean of the psychotic persuasion! Really though, I never imagined the paper would be this destabilizing, if only because I didn’t imagine the Psych Spectacular would really put off reading it until after the session. I silenced that voice of worry before I ever got to the lobby, convincing myself it wouldn’t really happen that way. And I now owe my intuition one big, whopping apology.

Well fuck me backwards, cats and kitties. I am making myself ill here thinking about it again. Moving on.

In other news, I’m going shopping for the Californiyay trip this weekend, and am vowing to get all the wiggity-whack out of my system over the next three days. Or else. So put that in your happy pipe and light ‘er up, universe. In the ever-appropriate words of Monty Python, I’m not dead yet.

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Mr. Golden Sun (and other odd tangents)

February 25, 2009 at 6:47 pm · Filed under Life As I Know It ·Tagged , , , , , ,

I hate that song, just for the record. There’s a story that goes with that, actually – of psych wards and crazy group therapists who make their patients’ insides cry a little. (And did you know that they don’t make Kleenex for internal crying? Unless you count vodka, anyway). But ha! Another story (or three) for another day, for sure.

Currently, I’m on the fourth floor of the library and looking out at this breathtaking, spectacular, completely uninterrupted view of UTTER DRABNESS. It’s grey! Everywhere! The clouds, the trees, the roads, the buildings, EVERYTHING IS GREY! It’s been like this for so many days straight now that I’m growing concerned that the sun went off and died or something. I know my sense of humor has, at any rate, and it’s refusing to come back until it gets at least a few good happy beams.

So what has the Inkster been doing? Good question! I’m not entirely sure. I was held hostage in the math book for several days, and then I went to look at a bunch of dead people on display with a bunch of not-dead people I’d never met before (who were NOT on display, thank you much). I’ve also been trying to convince Louis and Napoleon that I do not need a blizzard of bedspread fluff in my bedroom, but obviously they disagree because they still insist on helping redecorate the place with an unholy amount of cotton batting.

My most recent (mis)adventure involves making some decent progress in therapy (yay) and subsequently freaking the blessed eff out (not-so-yay) because OH MY GOD DID I REALLY JUST ADMIT THAT HAPPENED. Oh yes, I did…and then some. Granted, once you get to know me, I tend more toward over-sharing personal information than keeping it to myself (just ask the Bestie-Who-Still-Needs-A-Good-Alias; she’ll tell you). But mother…nature! Even I have my limits.

Basically, I took the parts of the past that were numbing me out last week, put it all on paper without any kind of censorship whatsoever, and handed the paper to the Psych Spectacular yesterday. Something like, “Ta-daaaa! This makes for a crazed and absolutely demented read, to the point it almost doesn’t make sense, and I am horrified and humiliated beyond words. But if this sh!t doesn’t go somewhere other than my po’ little head, said po’ little head may just implode. Which would be sad and potentially quite painful. So here, an invitation to join in the sordid fun, and if you’d like to run screaming from the room afterward, no worries – I’ll even hold the door!”

Aaaah. But I’m not thinking about that, tra la la la la. Nope, not me, think of the GOD AWFUL GREYNESS everywhere instead and….hey, why does the guy at the station next to me keep insisting on telling me “he’s going to use the restroom” every time he gets up? Dude, really? If you want me to watch your stuff while you’re gone, it’s totally cool to ask – but really, that’s all you gotta say. Oh – OH, he just came back and has now told me his name. Apparently, all the “I’m going to use the restroom, can you watch my stuff” was just a lead-in to “What’s your name-where are you from-you have a nice laugh.” Yes, and you my dear, have a problem. But that’s beside the point.

Wanna know why I was laughing? (Of course you do!). Mainly, because I am a nerd. Specifically, because I found the California Raisins on Youtube, and I’ve totally been chair dancing over here to raisin-remixed oldies for the last half hour. (Told you I’m a nerd…but take note, I’m a happy, chair-dancing nerd and THAT makes me awesome and totally irresistible).

All I can think about are the times my siblings and I lined up and gave our best California Raisins-style renditions of the songs (complete with the dance moves) up and down the aisles of Pikes Nursery and Joann’s. Needless to say, we were little and very, very bored. Also needless to say, my mother learned very quickly not to take us on those types of errands.

So, are you sufficiently confused, bemused, or altogether glassy-eyed yet? I’ll take that semi-catatonic blank stare as a ‘yes’ and thus conclude my rambling here is done. Now on to the class that teaches you how to be in class (I’m not making this up), or more recently, how badly the Sean Astin of 1993 wanted to play football. Who knew you still had to sit through crappy inspirational sports movies in college? Color me surprised.

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Tame is Lame, But…

February 19, 2009 at 12:25 pm · Filed under Happy-Type Stuff, Life As I Know It ·Tagged , ,

Hee hee. I made the TMI list this week and thought if you were going to be led here, you might as well have something semi-amusing to read, right? Right. Cuz everybody else is doing it.

So I was thinking about all the times The Wrong Thing has come out of my mouth. You know those “ooh, that sounded dirty” moments? Yeah, I have them – a lot. Partly because of my gutter mind, partly because of…well, my gutter mind. This moment is one of my favorites though, because hi, I’m really twelve years old.

First, a little background: I have just turned eighteen, just moved out and just started my first “real” job. And I am on an almond kick. Yogurt and almonds (not together, mind you) pretty much account for my daily menu.

On my way to work one morning, I stop in at a recently-opened Publix to pick up a new bag of almonds to replace my dwindling supply at home. Except I can’t find the damn things, anywhere. I circle the place probably three times and still don’t see them. It’s nuts (ha ha, but I’m too tired to erase that).

Finally caving to the fact that I am a woman and women are apparently hard-wired to ask for directions (the fact that I’m going to be late for work might have had some relevance too), I track down some just-outta-high-school kid who has the unhappy job of stocking shelves at 7 o’clock in the morning, and I say the first words that come to my mind.

“Can you show me where your nuts are?”

(Um….yeah…I actually said that.)

He blinked, I blinked and we both realized at about the same instant exactly what I’d just said. We seemed to agree just as quickly that it was too early to make a wisecrack, and he instead pointed to the proper aisle, just barely covering his amusement. I proceeded to the check out with my oh-so-mature sense of humor and my bag of elusive almonds (which – random fact – are apparently not a “true” nut at all, but some weird pseudo-nut called a drupe…and drupe kinda sounds like it might make a fun new diss).

Now I only have Kroger nearby, but everytime I pass the nut display (*snerk*), I’m tempted to go find some stocker kid and ask the same question just for giggles. Yup, I’m cool. And while it’s possible that this is only funny to my best friend and my little brother, it’s far and away more entertaining than a zombie. I was going to write about the time a certain sheltered relative walked into a Starship store thinking it somehow pertained to Star Trek (for real)…but alas, said person is not here at the moment to give me the painfully awesome details.

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Comfortably numb

February 19, 2009 at 12:29 am · Filed under iHurt ·Tagged ,

All righty, so occasionally I hit overload. Whether it’s because life suddenly seems too hectic and I can’t sort through it all, the past stops by to say hi or whatever, basically shit happens and suddenly, lights go off and sirens sound and a little neon sign flashes “system overload.” And amidst all the flashing lights and sounds, some switch gets flipped and I become zombified.

When that happens I can’t write because I can’t even figure out what exactly I’m thinking, let alone make it into something remotely worth reading. Or else what I’m thinking about is too icky for unsuspecting minds and “it happened so long ago” and all that other jazz with which I’m so good at beating myself over the head. At the moment, I’m somewhere between the two: not being able to untangle my thoughts and running from them.

So I lie awake until 2am, I get up a few hours later, I drink eight cups of coffee. I put on my high heels, I spend extra time on my eye makeup because it makes me feel a little better, I coax my hair into little curly-doo thingies for no good reason, and I force myself to be extra-outgoing in the grocery store, in class, wherever. I get through the day and still sing along to the radio on the way home. The zombie copes.

But tonight, the coping zombie has become the defeated zombie, and I’m a coward. I’m changing clothes in my room because I can’t go into those bathrooms right now. It’s almost that time of the month but I can’t handle tampons this time so I’ve got to go back to the other things that I hate and am ashamed of (TMI? Yeah, I guess…I’m a day early for that, eh?). Usually I force myself to deal with the things I’m trying to avoid because I’m impatient with and disgusted by my reaction to them. But tonight I just can’t do it.

The weirdest part though, is that I’m actually not depressed or unhappy. I’m just not really anything at all, and that’s precisely where I have been for the last few days. That’s why I only comment and do not post. It’s because someone unplugged the power cord on my emotions and I can’t find the reset button on the surge protector.

When I do however, I’ll reboot the offending system and get back on track. ‘Til then, I’ll be kicked back and coasting on auto-pilot.

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Valentine’s Day, nature-style

February 13, 2009 at 10:00 pm · Filed under Uncategorized

I almost wrote “Valentine’s Day, the natural way”…but that wasn’t quite what I meant, ha ha.

Yesterday was not a good day for many reasons but mostly, thanks to a suddenly faulty internet connection that guaranteed I didn’t have the needed access to complete an online test that was due. Yeah, that despairing puddle of misery crying in the floor until midnight amidst a sea of class notes? Hi, that was me!

That glassy-eyed zombie who crawled out of bed at noon today to stare blankly at her textbooks while clutching a steaming mug of coffee and wondering if a #10 blade would be sufficient self-punishment for failing a test by incompletion? Oh, hello again, it was yours truly.

So at two this afternoon, I said enough was enough and hit the road for one of my favorite hiking locations, with my camera and iPod in tow. Usually when I hike, I move along at a good clip, taking advantage of the opportunity to spike my heart rate a bit and enjoy a beautiful day outdoors at the same time. Today however, I went without an agenda or a time frame (or a dog!), not even sure which trail I was going to take. I wound up taking one of the longer woods trails, meandering along with music in one ear and the sounds of the woods in the other. The trails weren’t particularly busy, aside from a stampede of jogging young men who humored me with some harmless flirting each time our paths crossed (har har har…that was unintentional, by the way).

While I was plodding around and embracing a sudden case of ADD that had me straying from the trail every few feet in pursuit of an unusual photo op, I saw this:

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It’s a heart. Or a rooster. But I’m going with heart. After noticing that, I got to wondering if I could find other Valentine’s Day type-dealies in the woods. So, in the cheesiest and most sarcastic voice I can muster, I bring proof that nature celebrates Valentine’s Day. There was the “shot by Cupid’s arrow” tree, kinda-sorta-not-really.

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There were the branches wrapping around each other in shameless, yet wholly natural PDA’s. Yeah, even the damn trees were hugging each other (or according to my cynical eye, choking the life out of each other).

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There were other, more convincing tree-hugging (ha ha) shots, but my puter is a tard and says no more. So instead, look how the ducks were paddling around all together-like, and even going bottoms-up together.

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Yeah, yeah, okay. Honestly, the whole idea was more to entertain me during my walk than anything else; I really don’t care about Valentine’s Day or being single. My best friend called me Wednesday night, and after almost two months of being apart (and miserable and lonely and confused and all that Gwen Stafani “Don’t Tell Me” type stuff), we’re back where we were before and better. Long story of her needing to sort herself out and all kinds of Keisha Cole’s “Sad and Lonely,” so I haven’t written about it because everyone else’s loneliness posts were so much more eloquent…and mainly because it was just too damn depressing. But all is suddenly well-ish (failed tests aside), and I will be happily unattached on any Valentine’s Day as long as I have my bestie back.

Happy Friday the 13th!

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My butt just hung up on you

February 11, 2009 at 11:04 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , ,

I used the title as my status update on Facebook for a little while, but it all still makes me giggle. Yes, I’m kind of juvenile like that.

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The Case of the Psychic Stomach

February 10, 2009 at 7:25 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , ,

My stomach is cussing me out. I do admit to having neglected it today and understand that it is none too happy with me. But it needs to stop complaining, because it is loud and stomachs should be filled and not heard. Or something. I would like to tell it where to shove it but I’m in the library where talking in general is frowned upon, let alone talking back to one’s stomach. Sigh. The talking tummy got me to thinking though, and brings me to my point: my stomach is psychically connected to my sisters’ stomachs. I’m serious.

While laying in bed this morning, I tried to decide whether or not I was going to eat breakfast. Simple question it would seem, but not when some special food demons have come back for a visit. “Breakfast? Well, that depends on whether you’d like to look like a fat cow today, or just a slightly malnourished piggy.” I heart food issues.

Not. But anyway, while I was laying there I started thinking, “If I could eat anything for breakfast right now, calories be damned, what would I eat?” The answer: pancakes! Really sweet, buttery pancakes with lots of blueberries. My mom used to make them on special occasions but that was like, light-years ago and I haven’t thought of them in I don’t know how long. Not sure what brought them to mind this morning.

Less than an hour later, I step out of the shower and what do I smell? Oh yes. Hell yes. Pancakes! My older sister randomly decided to make pancakes, not fifty minutes after I’d decided I wanted them – how convenient!

Now, for added entertainment not related to food, consider that around Christmas I got a weird hankering for the old Randy Travis and Ricky Skaggs albums that my dad used to play in the car when we were little (this from the girl who typically avoids country radio at all costs). I mentioned it to my brother and started looking around on the interweb to see if I could find any of the songs, without luck. Three days later, my brother called to tell me that my older sister had just walked into the room and said, “Man, it’s so weird, but I’ve really been wanting to listen to old Randy Travis and Ricky Skaggs all of a sudden.” *Cue Twilight Zone music.* I am awesome, am I not?

Back to the way my stomach is linked with other people’s though, a few weeks ago I am studying when I suddenly get a craving for pizza. Considering that pizza is possibly my worst nightmare on a plate and only occasionally indulged – with much guilt-tripping afterward – I am rather perplexed but quickly dismiss the thought. While I wait for my next class to start, I text my younger sister: “I’m bored.” “I’m eating pizza with my friends!” Hmm. Okay.

Two days later: Middle of political science class ( so roughly 7:30), I am ravenously hungry for Taco Bell and don’t give a crap about the calories. I say screw it and pull in at the first drive-thru on my way home. As I come in the door with my fast-food finds in hand, my younger sister says, “Mmm, I had that for dinner when I went out with my posse.” “What time was that?” “A little before 7:30.” Eeeh. Great.

She did the same damn thing with French fries last week, proving a) my younger sister eats fast food a lot when she’s with her friends (and apparently, I do too…EVERY TIME), and b) my sisters are totally controlling me with their meal choices. My waist does not thank them, but it’s okay. I am too busy devising ways to use this connection to my advantage to worry much about that.

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I’m Allergic to Mondays

February 9, 2009 at 6:35 pm · Filed under Gripes & Grumpings, iHurt ·Tagged , , , ,

(AKA the part where I rant without apology and make gratuitous use of the word “fuck”)

Hi to all you keyboard-tapping, blog-perusing brilliant ones! How is your Monday going? Mine is some combination of #$%@&!# and #!$**@%^!!!!$!@.

I am slightly sleep-deprived, just to let you all in on this fact from the get-go. I couldn’t sleep last night worth a crap, which is not that unusual, but made considerably more annoying by all the crap I’m trying to sort through with a foggy brain.

That said, I got up early this morning – yes, I actually GOT UP early, instead of just stumbling to the alarm and promptly screwing all of my productive plans in favor of a few more hours of z’s as is my habit lately). I got up early with a list of things to do before school, none the least of which was homework for today’s class (yeah, yeah, I know). Turning to the first order of business, I got ready to go for a morning jog/walk/crawl – whatever my slightly handicapped left lung would allow.

But as I was about to trade my PJ’s for running clothes, something went wrong out back where the brindle brothers were playing. Apparently, Jacobi decided that today would be a great day for Louis to die. Not just submit to Jacobi’s royal highness, not just worship the ground Jacobi walks on, not just defer to Jacobi’s righteousness. Oh no! DIE. I walked out to find Jacobi trying to make this happen. I grabbed a rain barrel (yes, my mom keeps rain barrels on the deck, shut up) and emptied its contents on Jacobi’s head, which stunned him enough to “let the eff go!” and I was able to catch him before he could start in on Louis again. (Which is why I now have two fingernails torn off to the quick. So when you note my atrocious need for a manicure, just. don’t. ask, k? It’s just better that way, promise).

Fuck, man. This after the damn dog randomly tried to kill Inca – right in front of me – over the weekend. Safe to say his adjustment period is over and Mr. Charming-Grateful-Foster-Dog is now showing his true colors. Honestly, I don’t entirely trust him around me either; he’s just got a weird way about him that I’m going to have to see about. But at this point he pisses me off more than he makes me nervous. I dare him to make me the next Diane Whipple. I fucking dare him.

Needless to say, my scheduled homework-completing time was spent at the vet’s having Louis put back together (and naturally I walked out of the office without his pain meds, ever the brilliant one). From there I had to leave almost immediately to have Bandit, my oldest rat, put to sleep after he stroked out this weekend. Yay for more sordid fun (sarcasm, people; it’s a way of life).

After that little joy, I sat in the parking lot at school finishing my assignments and did manage to get to class with a few minutes to spare. Now the bookstore is giving me shit over an order they failed to get in by the promised time but won’t refund the price of, because then “we’ll lose money on shipping and you’re the student, you’re supposed to lose money.” Um, say wha? A hearty “fuck you” too, you stupid bitch.

And to top off the fun, my parents have taken the liberty of reminding me once again of every way I have ever fucked them over, as if it was all intentional. Yes of course! I collapsed my own lung -twice!- for fun, failed your stupid home school test out of spite, and I just BEGGED for a psych intervention all those years ago (even though – you’re totally right – the teenage me never really thought death was a better option than living with your mind-fucking ways, and the lock-up was totally unwarranted). Get a clue and leave the past where it lies already. I can’t apologize to you anymore and I don’t even think I need to, since NONE OF THAT SHIT WAS MY FAULT. Please, reread that again, Mommy Dearest. Read it aloud. Thank you. You may now join the rest of us in 2009, where I am busy fucking myself over now in entirely new and different ways.

Aaaaahaaahaaah! Is is time to go to California yet? No? Well then. Anyone else want to tell me a Mortifying Monday story? Pretty please? Entertain me, I beg of you.

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Have you had your fifteen seconds of cute today?

February 7, 2009 at 1:53 am · Filed under Life As I Know It, Rescue Ramblings and Misc. Furry Foolishness ·Tagged , , ,

No? Please, allow me! Here, have a convo and some pictures from my most recent craziness.

I call my mom while driving home after school on Tuesday night, a new, skeletal Presa chillin’ in my back seat while I wonder if this newest rescue will cause an explosion on the home base.

Me: “Hey, Mom?”
Mom: “Yeah…?”
Me: “Is Dad home?”
Mom: “Yes.”
Me: “Is he still awake?”
Mom: “Yes.”
Me: “Is he in a bad mood?”
Mom: “No, we’re sitting here watching a movie.”
Me: “Oh. Okaaaaaay….”
Mom (pretending she doesn’t already know what’s going on): “Why? What’s up?”
Me: “Well….it’s 22 degrees out….and see, there was this dog and….”
(Interrupted by a laugh on the other end)

Needless to say, my parents took it well–I think they knew it was only a matter of time before this happened–and when I got home, they played nice and gave a warm welcome to this guy.

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Handsome, sweet boy but so skinny! :( So, now my “pack” looks like this:

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Meanwhile, Adelaide (“the pit bull puppy who wasn’t”) is clearly a Chihuahua mix, weighing in now at just 2.7 lbs. Tiny! She’s finally ready to find her forever home, and the fact that she’s a chi rather than a pit should help considerably in that arena!  Showing off her many expressions and “waving” trick:

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Daily cuteness quota satisfied. You’re welcome.

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