So last week I fell in the cafe at my work. Yes, I know you're absolutely shocked. This wasn't you're run-of-the-mill fall though, I managed to fall spectacularly in front of at least half of the "Response Team," the ones who help out during an emergency and are all Red Cross trained. Paired with the fact that I actually hurt myself a fair bit, there was no laughing it off. I did draw the line when they tried to get me into a wheelchair though. That was just excessive.

I spent the rest of the day icing my ankle, which I was concerned about because of how many times I've managed to sprain it before. I had already been feeling achy in general, and this fall situation certainly didn't help. Some medicinal wine when I got home did though. The next day, my ankle felt fine, but the rest of my body was in a fair bit of pain. At least it was Friday and I didn't have to hobble around in heels.

I was in enough pain to look into the side effects of my new medications, and sure enough joint pain was listed highly for the stuff I had for RLS. So I called the doctor and we're going to reevaluate. Super. Then I read this:

You should know that some people who took medications such as ropinirole developed gambling problems or other intense urges or behaviors that were compulsive or unusual for them.

Fantastic. I already think gambling's a little ridiculous and only fun if I'm playing poker with fake money. Were I to develop a gambling addiction, I would be pissed. I've already got a touch of OCD, I don't need it exacerbated, thanks.

My joint pain finally subsided enough for me to get back into my running program yesterday, which I really wanted to do because I was cranky as hell and needed an outlet. I got about halfway before my knee (opposite leg from the ankle I was worried about) decided to tell me to fuck off with this nonsense. Looks like that's what I should have been icing after that fall instead of the ankle. So now I get to go try and find a knee brace that will fit on my short little leg.

New Year

It's one of my few family traditions that at the new year we look back over the past year and pick out the three best and three worst things that we experienced. We go over the worst things first so that we can appreciate the best things all the more. 2010 was a roller coaster year for me; some great things and some really horrible things happened.

The three worst things for me in 2010 were:
3. I was diagnosed with Reynaud's Syndrome. This means that even something as simple as drinking a soda or eating cold salami slices or even walking outside when it's chilly brings me pain and discomfort. And I have to wear socks all the time, which I hate. For a while when it was really cold here, I was even sleeping with gloves on because I have a hard time sleeping when the room is warm but my hands freak out if the room is cold. That really wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be though. And really, all things considered, if I had to choose a bizarre medical affliction, I could do a LOT worse.

2. I broke up with Ricardo. This was such a long, drawn out breakup that it really wore me down and left me emotionally exhausted for much of the year. Things all started in February and dragged on and on into October. I've gone over things elsewhere, so I'll just say that this had a major negative impact on most of my year.

1. I had to put Singe to sleep. Singe was my cat from the day she was born. I was there for it. She was the only black cat in a litter of tabbies. It was love at first sight. She slept with me almost every night once she was old enough to leave Mama Kitty, except one and a half years of college. Last year she developed an autoimmune skin disease, where an aggressive virus was causing her immune system to attack skin cells. She fought hard but the steroid regimen was too much for her. After being together for twelve years, I miss her so much that I can't even let myself think about it for more than two minutes without dissolving into a weeping mess. Like now.

The three best things for me in 2010 were:
3. I bought a new car. My first completely, 100% new car. Even having the ability to buy a new car is amazing for me. This purchase was also a major step in finishing my breakup, so it has double the symbolic representation for me. I absolutely love the feeling of freedom I get every time I pause and reflect that I have a car that is mine alone and I can go anywhere and do anything I want.

2. I spent around three months at the beginning of 2010 in Santa Barbara. Granted, it was for a crazy work project and I was majorly stressed out most of the time I was there. I still got to spend time with good friends and have fun and enjoy California for an extended period of time, which is something I never even thought I would be able to do for many years, if at all. It was bittersweet in the sense that I knew I would never be able to do that again, but that just made me appreciate the time I got to spend back home even more.

1. My trip to Texas to meet some amazing Pajibans. It started out as a bit of a joke, this trip. Then I checked out plane tickets on a whim and found an amazing deal and next thing I knew, I was face to face with some of the most awesome people I've ever met. Pajiban relationships are a strange thing to explain to anyone outside of our crazy little group. But I, for one, will take the trade off of seeming like more of a crazy person than I already am in exchange for this amazing group of friends I have spread out across the country; the world even. I know, without a doubt, that pretty much anywhere I could ever visit has at least one person that I would love to meet and hang out with. Being able to meet a whole bunch of them at the same time and see how similar or different they are in person versus online and have crazy adventures doing the simplest of things and just generally being nerds all over the place wasn't just one of the best things of 2010. I'm sure it's one of the best things of my life.

Basketcase

I have really intense, vivid dreams in general. Last night was no exception. I jotted down the bits I could remember before they were lost in the mist so I could look them up in my dream book later. I like to use the dream book for entertainment purposes only, and by no means do I believe anything it says. However. This would freak out the most rational person in the world:

Finding something: Loss in business.

Finding valuable article: Big misfortunes in business.

Finding money: Danger and business loss.

Digging in loose soil: Plans will succeed.

Others being dirty: Illness in the family.

Of the marijuana plant: Will be melancholy.

Smoking marijuana: Will dream of unattainable things.

Eyes being wide open: A change in life will come soon.

The color gray: Will receive a letter with news.

Other famous people: Sorrow is about to come.

Of a restaurant: Bad health.

Eating at a restaurant: Health is not very good.

Of cheese: Worry caused by own hasty actions.

Of a skirt: Will be lazy.

Black iron: Will be cheated by friends.

An empty table: Will fall into poverty.

Eating a piece of cake: Will lose sweetheart.

Of eating: You are being deceived.

Eating on the floor: Somebody will take something away from you.

Eating fat things: Warning of an illness to come.

Avoiding danger: Troubles will come to you.

Can I panic now?

Well Hello

I haven't written anything in a while, so here are some random updates.

The biggest thing I've been dealing with recently is Singe's mysterious illness. A sample of the tissue that the vet removed from her leg was sent out for lab analysis and came back negative for damn near everything that we thought could have been causing the problem. What it did pick up is that Singe has autoimmune dermatitis. That means that her immune system is not recognizing her own skin and is attacking skin cells as though they were an infection. The vet's theory is that Singe has a micro-infection, and the antibiotics that she was on previously were not able to get to the source since it is behind a bunch of scar tissue and jacked up tissue in general. Now she is on a new, very strong antibiotic as well as a regimen of one week on, one week off of steroids. And she still has a cone on her head. It's very fun times at our house right now.

In completely unrelated news, I am trying to move again. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Other than those things, my life is boring. I need some friends over here. Badly.

So Much Better

After the whole unravelling stitches fiasco, things with Singe are going much better. This is due in large part to the giant cage that I bought to contain her. I bought the biggest dog kennel/crate/whatchamacallit that I could find, got a nice flat cushion for her so she won't get stuck on it like she was her beds with their tricky side walls, and add a regular litter box into the mix and presto, perfect kitty prison. I had to get her a normal litter box because the LitterMaid that I have now turned out to be a trap for cats with cones on their heads. That was not a fun day.
So now, aside from her howling and scrabbling at the floor trying to dig her way out, both of which actions are brought to a halt be showing her a squirt bottle of water, she is really calm. Yesterday she was sleeping so deeply that she didn't even move when I opened the door to check on her water.

Bored Now

I've been feeling pretty out of sorts for the last few weeks. Sort of like everything is tilted. Or like one moment is not attached to the next.
Wow that sounds lame.
I'm not sure how to express how I'm feeling. I find myself doing strange things, even for me. Like staring blankly at nothing for half an hour. Constantly forgetting what I was just going to say, or what I was in the middle of doing. Out of energy, but at the same time very antsy; always wanting to be somewhere that I'm currently not, but not having the energy to leave the house. I want to do something, anything, but I haven't the slightest clue what I want to do.

It's My Party

I am so stressed out with work and life that I am teetering on the verge of frustration tears at and given moment.
I truly love my job and my coworkers, but our manager has been in and out sick since New Years and our director is a frustrating man who loves to hear himself talk and also loves to ask us why we aren't doing six people's work with a staff of three, one of whom is me, and I am by no means proficient at what I am doing. I literally didn't have time to check my email yesterday.
Another thing is that I was off my birth control for about two weeks and then went back on mid-cycle, so my hormones are seriously wack right now. For example, I was watching Tool Academy, which is a show about asshole guys learning how to not be such assholes to their equally asshole girlfriends who tricked them into going on this show (the guys thought the show was a competition for Mr. Awesome) and I started crying. There is no circumstance under which a VH1 reality show should make me cry unless it is because I am laughing so hard.
So please forgive the lack of recent posts. I'll come back soon. For now, just keep watching the crazy German song with the cute cat. It still makes me giggle.

It's Not A Tumor!

A few years ago, during my Senior year of college, I found a lump on the back of my head, in this general area:
It didn't hurt at all, and was sort of squishy and a little mobile. A little while after I first noticed it, I went to the eye doctor to have a eye exam done. I have terrible vision, so I get an eye exam about once a year to make sure that my prescription is accurate. I mentioned the lump for some reason of other to the eye doctor, who promptly told me that there was a good chance that it was a tumor and set me up on a series of tests to determine if the tumor was affecting my optic nerve. The most disturbing part of the whole thing was that she basically talked about the possibility that I had a brain tumor in the same manner that another person would discuss the weather.
Most of the tests that I had done that day were inconclusive, so I went to Student Health to talk to an actual doctor. I explained to her how long the lump had been there and the eye doctor's concern that it was a tumor. The doctor proceeded to feel my lump and "hmm" to herself. After a few minutes of this, she told me that she wanted another doctor to consult with her about it. She brought in another doctor, and the two of them stood over me, prodding the lump on the back of my head and saying, "I don't know, what do you think it is?" I was not amused.
The first doctor set up an appointment for an MRI for me, which I was not too excited about, since being in enclosed places freaks me right the hell out. As my friends know, I am uncomfortable if I can't see the door. Pamala always let's me choose where I want to sit at restaurants, one of the many reasons why I love her. But I digress. So, I went and submitted myself to an MRI of my head, which was one of the least fun things I have ever done. For those of you who have never had an MRI, it is loud, which is enough to freak you out even if you don't care about a giant machine suspended a mere inch above your nose.
The results of my MRI? Inconclusive. But they were able to rule out it being a tumor, so that was an improvement. But I still had a mystery lump on my head. The next candidate for what it could be was a blocked blood vessel, so I was set up for an ultrasound on my lump.
By this time my wonderful roommates were doing all they could to make the situation funny. There were jokes about my brain trying to escape, alien pods, and super powers. They even named my lump Noam. I was taking a linguistics class at that time. I'm sure that about two people who read this will get that joke.
So I went to have my ultrasound, which involved a bunch of very cold goo in my hair and the technician going, "Hhmmmm...I don't seem to be seeing anything here..." for about half an hour. They were able to determine that I did not have a blocked blood vessel. However, no one was ever able to figure out what it actually was. It magically disappeared a few weeks later.

Now it's back. It seems to be different this time. For one thing, it is painful, even when I am not poking at it. It also seems to be two small lumps that are very close together. At least, it hurts in two distinct places on the lump. One part on the bottom, and another part on the top left. The bottom is much more painful than the top.
All I have to say about this is what the fuck!

(You're No) Friend Of Mine

I haven't ever posted anything really political on this blog, mainly because I am not that interested in politics and political shenanigans. I don't like to write about stuff that bores me. I'm not funny if I'm bored with the subject, and I like to be funny.

However.

Yesterday a friend of mine, whom I normally consider intelligent and logical, said that he supports Sarah Palin. I'm a little dumbfounded by this. I've been thinking about this every since, and I've come to the conclusion that he is either a) not the person I thought he was, or b) not listening to a word she says.

For anyone to agree with such rampant hypocrisy is mind boggling to me. How can anyone listen to a her expound on the effectiveness of abstinence-only education when there is living, breathing proof of its inadequacy standing two feet to her left? For the record, I could give a rat's ass that her seventeen year old daughter is pregnant. Obviously it is not an ideal situation. In and of itself, not political in the slightest. But Palin made it political by shoving her agenda in our faces with her daughter standing next to her putting lie to her every statement. Abstinence-only education simply does not work. I bet if someone told Bristol that she could have prevented this pregnancy by simply taking a pill or having her boyfriend wear a condom, she would break into hysterics. I know I would. Her entire view on women's rights is an antiquated agenda, which includes such gems as forcing rape victims to pay for their own "rape kits" in order to gather evidence against their attackers, wanting to overturn Roe v. Wade, even in the case of rape or incest, and cutting funding for single mothers (who shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place, never mind if they were raped. Obviously they deserved it.).

Beyond the domestic sphere, her views on foreign policy are, literally, terrifying. In an interview with Charlie Gibson, she demonstrated that she clearly has no idea what the Bush Doctrine is. The Bush Doctrine states that the United States should depose foreign regimes that represented a threat to the security of the United States, even if that threat was not immediate. What this boils down to is that we have the right of anticipatory self-defense, that we have the right to a preemptive strike against any other country that we think is going to attack us. Pretty simple concept.

In that same interview, Sarah Palin also said, "that is the agreement when you are a NATO ally, is if another country is attacked, you're going to be expected to be called upon and help. And we've got to keep an eye on Russia. For Russia to have exerted such pressure in terms of invading a smaller democratic country, unprovoked, is unacceptable." (Russia's "exertion of pressure" was not unprovoked, by the way. Russia and Georgia fought a five-day war in August when Russian troops poured into South Ossetia to repel an attack by Tbilisi's forces.) So let's review. If Georgia were a member of NATO, and Russia responded to military action with military action, the US would be expected to go to war with Russia. Russia. They have nuclear weapons. Just thought I'd remind you, in case you forgot about the Cold War.

How about this: does the Bush Doctrine only apply to the US? Are we the only nation allowed to defend itself with a preemptive strike? What if Dmitry Medvedev likes the way Bush thinks?

It is entirely possible that, were Sarah Palin to get into the White House, she could say something that would represent a threat to Russia, especially considering that she already has. If Russia were to perceive a threat, according to the Bush Doctrine, it would be perfectly reasonable for them to attack the US.

And my friend wants to vote for all of this?

Bittersweet Symphony

After the holidays were all over and we had to return to normal life, Ricardo and I began to discuss our relationship and its future. For a while now, I've been wanting to move to a cheaper apartment, especially since my landlord still has not seen fit to repair our water-damaged front door. Dalyne was on board with moving to a cheaper place, but then she changed her mind. I was in a bit of a bind at that point, and Ricardo brought up us moving in together. I went back and forth and back again for weeks, and then finally decided that it is what I want to do.
So there it is. I am going to move in with Ricardo. My lease is up at the end of this month, and we are currently applying to an apartment. I hope like hell that we get it, because it is incredibly hard to find places that will accept a cat here. And there is such a short time that apartments are available. Basically, no one gives more than thirty days notice, so you have to try to find a place the month before you need to move. It is very stressful.
On top of that stress, last week I got the flu. Like hardcore sickness. I was completely fine on Monday, and then on Tuesday I went down in flames. I had (still have actually) a hacking, deep-chested cough that sounds like parts of my lungs are going to come out, I was running a fever for three days, and I was bone-tired. I did not get out of bed nor was I even really lucid for three days. And those three days just happened to fall on the three days when all of the new apartment listing were coming out. Ricardo really came through though, he would go and see like six places and narrow it down to ones that would meet my level of acceptability.
I found out two nights ago that right after I was done being really really sick, him mom, who lives outside of Mexico City, was rushed to the hospital and is currently in a fucking coma! I don't even know. His family isn't telling him much because they want him to stay here, but that is adding to his frustration, not to mention the fact that whatever he is imagining is (I hope) worse than reality.
So, all in all, this should be a happy time for us, but it is really just very stressful.

Silence Is Golden

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I managed to convince my mom to let my (then) boyfriend, Joe, move into our house, since he was currently living in a tent in a trailer park. What can I say in my defense? I really did think that getting him out of that environment and into a better one would help him. And I loved him. And I was an idiot. Raise your hand if you’ve never done something incredibly stupid because you were in love. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
As you probably guessed, things did not go the way that I had envisioned they would. Joe and I did not have candle lit dinners in front of a fire; we argued about him not having a job, or him staying out until two in the morning. At some point I stopped arguing. After you tell someone the same thing forty times, and they still don’t listen, what is there to say?
Then I started a new semester at my community college. In one of my classes, I saw a guy who had been in a previous class of mine. We did the your-face-is-the-only-familiar-one-in-the-room-so-now-we-are-friends-thing, and I started getting to know Chris. He was the polar opposite of Joe. We bonded one day over Ralph, and I realized that I actually like this Chris fellow.
While I was making friends with Chris, things with Joe were becoming worse. He had become friends with my cousin’s douchey then-boyfriend (who would later attack her car with a baseball bat) and the two of them were acting increasingly shady. One evening, the four of us went out to a movie. After the movie, the two guys were going off and mumbling together. Alicia and I went to the bathroom for a conference. We decided that if they were going to stay out until two tonight, that was it. Last straw. We were done. We came back out and Alicia’s boyfriend asked if I could drop her off at home, since he and Joe had to “do a thing”. I agreed, and the whole way home we discussed how over this shit we were. I dropped her off and wished her luck, then drove myself home.
Now, those who know me well are quite aware of just how damn stubborn I am. In the previous weeks, I have become increasingly irritated with Joe. I had also met a guy who seemed to not only enjoy my company, but respect my mind. This did wonders for how I felt about myself and showed me how there really were guys who weren’t jackasses.
When I got home, I packed up all of Joe’s things in boxes and put them on the front porch. I remember my mom coming into my room, seeing what I was doing, and asking if I was ok. I told her “Yes, I finally am.” She just smiled and left me to it. I wrote a long letter explaining to Joe exactly what I was doing and why, and left that on top of his things.
When Joe finally did come home, it was light outside. After reading my letter, he tapped on my window. After I didn’t respond he went around to Brian’s window and woke him up. Brian told him that I would come out and talk to him when I was good and ready, godammit. I learned this later when I woke up. When I saw that Joe was still outside, I went out and handed him the phone, then went back inside. He tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. He eventually called his parents to ask them to come and get him.
It was the best breakup I ever had.

This Monkey AIN'T Gone to Heaven

My upstairs neighbors are fucking idiots.

They have a wooden deck that is above our enclosed patio area. Two nights ago they decided that they needed to wash off their deck rightnow. Having apparently never heard of such inventions as a broom and mop, they decided to use a hose. To wash off their two feet by five feet deck. For half an hour. Which washed off our patio as well, so thanks for that. But man am I glad we don't have patio furniture or a barbecue out there yet.

I came home from work yesterday and I noticed that our doormat was wet:

As I was fumbling with my keys, water dripped on my head. I looked up and saw this:

The stucco is actually bubbling up. The porch light is full of water. The doorjamb is swollen, as is the door. We currently cannot use our own front door, we have to use the sliding glass door, which is all kinds of secure.

I called my landlord and told him what happened and sent him the pictures. He called management the next day and managed to garble the message so much that management called my roommate to ask her about our neighbors spraying our door with their hose. She explained what really happened, and they said they would talk to the upstairs people. Dalyne went upstairs a bit later to make sure everyone knew what was going on. After knocking three times and finally ringing the doorbell twice, the mom finally answered. We knew that they were home because we could hear them.

In the course of the conversation, Dalyne learned that the dad had actually hooked up the hose to their hot water heater to hose off the deck, and, "whoops, I guess he didn't turn it all the way off", but she thought that if we just let everything dry out, it would be fine. She didn't take up the offer to come and test out our porch light though.

Stupid Girl

I've been trying to think of how best to write about what happened in the next phase of my life, and so far I've come up with nothing. A large part of that is due to the fact that my memories from this portion of my life are cluttered, unclear, and full of gaps, the reasons for which will become evident.

After Jim broke our engagement, I can now say that I was legitimately depressed. And angry. I felt nearly every negative emotion you can think of, and I desperately wanted to be outside of my own head, away from the memories and the aching pain I felt.

I went from drinking occasionally on weekends to drinking every weekend and during the week. Given the amounts of alcohol I was consuming, it's really surprising that I remember as much as I do. My tolerance was so high that I once drank a 300 (or more) pound guy under the table, and then finished the handle we had been sharing. I regularly ditched classes, mostly first period. I didn't even really do anything while I was ditching, just hung out with whoever I had convinced to come with me. Usually it was Terra, but we would occasionally bring other friends with us. I'm not sure how to broach this, because I'm not really sure how it started, but here goes. Terra's mom was bipolar, and she was on a lot of different medications. I don't know at all how it started, but we would steal pills from her and take them. I usually didn't even know what I was taking. One time that I remember, I took a Klonopin at lunch. In the next class it hit me pretty hard. I was sitting at my desk when my head suddenly felt incredibly heavy. I collapsed forward onto the desk, hitting it with my forehead. A friend of mine in the class helped me sit back up and managed to prop me up at my desk so I wouldn't fall out. He asked me what I had taken, and then looked it up. Klonopin is a benzodiazepine, used to control seizures, anxiety, schizophrenia, and a slew of other things. My friend watched me the rest of the period, even walking me to my next class. I tell you this to demonstrate how other people cared much more about what happened to me than I did. I literally didn't care. I drank whatever was in my hand, took whatever pill was handed to me, and put on a mask and pretended I was fine. I laughed and joked and chatted, and no one was the wiser.

The summer after we graduated, Terra went to Ireland with her sister, and after she got back we had a weird falling out. I started spending more and more time with Joe. He was having problems or his own trying to deal with social environments that he had never encountered before, due to his home-schooled upbringing. He drank nearly as much as I did, smoke a lot of weed (which I never did, I hate the smell), and did a few other recreational drugs like acid. I didn't really ever pay attention to what he was doing though. I didn't really pay attention to much. At some point, Joe got himself kicked out of the house he was living in. He wasn't allowed to move back home, so, having no other options, he set up camp in a trailer park. That's right. A trailer park. He didn't even have a trailer, he was living in a tent.

After a while I started coming back to myself. I had been taking classes at a local community college, mostly because that was just what you did after you graduated. I wasn't taking random pills anymore since Terra and I weren't friends anymore. I was drinking less because I had to be at work and class more, which meant that I had to drive more. But I still managed to do something supremely stupid. I convinced my mom that it would be a good idea for Joe to move in with us.

Gouge Away

I know that I said that story would be continued, and it will. The past few weeks my life has been attacking me. My boss gave me a list of tasks to prepare for our next audit, and I am still recovering from the last one. He literally told me to take as much overtime as I need to get these things done. Doesn't that sound fun?

10 Signs That It Is Going To Be A Bad Day

1. You wake up seven minutes before your alarm is supposed to go off.

2. You run out of conditioner in the midst of putting it on, and are only able to condition about half of your hair.

3. The shirt you wanted to wear is dirty.

4. Your computer is r e a l l y s l o w . Uh-oh. Viruses?

5. Your hair dryer shuts off and will not start again, and your hair is in that weird not-wet, but not-dry stage.

6. Something spilled in the fridge. Something very sticky.

7. Guess what? It's raining. Now your under-conditioned, not-wet but not-dry hair is all frizzy.

8. Everyone on the freeway forgets how to drive. Of course.

9. As soon as you turn on your work computer, it reminds you that you have a two hour meeting this afternoon.

10. It takes you a full fifteen minutes to find some fucking coffee that is not left over from yesterday.

Low

May 17th
I broke up with Niall yesterday. I know that I did the right thing, but I feel so terrible. The worst thing is that I still love him, but it just couldn't work anymore. Not as a healthy relationship. All I want to do right now is go and take care of him, and I think that speaks volumes about what our relationship was becoming. I have to be selfish with this, or what I need will get subjugated, and what he needs will take over my life. I could let myself do it, take care of him and forget everything else, but in the end I would be miserable and resent him, and he still wouldn't have what he needs. I know that this is for the best, but I will never be able to forget that look on his face.

May 20th
After I spent Friday getting updates from the vet about Singe, picking her up and getting all the instructions for her medication and tips on how to force-feed a cat, I took her home and got her settled and drugged. Then I took Niall's things back to him. It was difficult even gathering them all together. They had seemed so natural where they were; the places they occupied belonged to them. Now there are empty places in my apartment to match the empty places in my heart.
Niall had some things of mine to give back to me as well and now they sit on my floor accusingly. I seem to be preternaturally aware of them. They do not belong here.
I still haven't thrown out his toothbrush. I just can't bring myself to do it.
As I went to leave Niall's, we hugged each other. There in his arms, I began to think about all the things that I will never get to do with him. It became so painful that I literally ran out the door. I went around the corner to the stairs and I had to stop and lean against the wall, fighting my tears as hard as I could. I almost went back and told him to forget everything I said and that I would take care of him, but I know that it would be a lie. There is no way that I would be able to give him what he needs, and I would kill myself trying to give it to him.
Everyone has something that they cannot deal with, and unfortunately for us, Niall has mine. I love him and I respect him, but I just don't have the strength it would take. I truly hope that some day it will not be too painful for us to see each other and that we can regain the friendship that we had. Niall is truly an amazing person and I will miss him with every thought. I would give anything for things to be different, but I cannot change what is.
Instead of letting things go on between us and years from now becoming bitter and resentful to each other, I have given us both an opportunity for something better. I just hope that he can someday see it that way too.
I also hope that someday I no longer feel as though I'm drowning when I think of him.

Love Cat(s)

My cat that I've had since the day she was born nine and a half years ago is very ill. Singe lost her appetite about a week ago, maybe ten days even. She was eating, but only a tiny bit. She was also sleeping even more than normal. Then I noticed that she seemed to be drinking a lot of water. Last night she threw up and it was just all water. I decided to take her in today after that happened. This morning she was sneezing a lot as well.

I just spoke with the vet and, according to the blood work, Singe has a very high liver value, which is bad. The vet says that she either has an infection or a gall stone, but they can't know for sure which without doing an ultrasound and a biopsy. There are a few things that we can try before such drastic measures need to be taken. The vet is giving her fluids and some medication, including an anti-nausea one. Then I get to feed her with a syringe and shove pills down her throat all weekend. Hooray. If she isn't doing better by Monday, the vet wants to do more drastic things like the ultrasound, and put her on a feeding tube for a month. I have been hearing from a few people about another vet in the area that seems a lot better. They apparently have a track record for success when other vets have said that drastic things should be done; this place seems to have better solutions. So, if Singe is not doing better by Monday, I am going to give this other vet a call and see what they think.

Evasive Maneuvers

Friends, readers, countrymen, lend me your ears. Eyes. Whatever. I need your help with a delicate problem. It seems I have accidentally befriended the craziest person at my work. This is a woman twice my age who apparently wants to be my best friend, which I would normally not have a problem with (who wouldn't want to be my friend?) except for the nagging fact that she is completely batshit fucking crazy. Before I was aware of this little tidbit, I agreed to go walking at lunch sometimes with her. This happened through a rather boring course of events which I will spare you (see how kind I am?). Shortly after these plans were made, things began to go awry. Upon finding out that my Easter plans included a hike up the mountain (which never did happen, thanks to my damn allergies), she expressed a burning desire to go for walks on the beach on the weekend with me. I quickly deterred this plan by saying that I never know what my weekend plans are until the day before, which is largely true. This weekend is an exception, but more on that after it's all over and I've gotten some sleep.
Moving on. After I told her that weekends aren't good for me to plan, she tells me that she understands, since she is really busy on weekends too. Huh? Then why are you trying to plan things with me?
But wait, there's more! Earlier this week, I asked her a work-y question. She responded briefly and then expounded on how much she was looking forward to our walk (which was today). I mentioned that Pam might like to join us, since she works next door and we usually have lunch together. Apparently, this did not sit well with the crazy one, who them sent me six emails in less than three minutes explaining that she preferred one on one walking, and that she used to work next door and "wanted to pass on getting up-to-date on them", because clearly that's all Pam would talk about. I have to work with her still, so I just decided to go with it and have it be just me and her, creepy as she was getting. She was extremely effusive in her thanks, which just bumped up the Creep-O-Meter. The phrase "one-on-one the first time" was used.
So The Day arrived today, and it turns out that she forgot to bring her lunch, so she wants to walk a bit and then go get some food. How convenient. At first she was angling for this atrocious Hawaiian barbecue place that the smell of makes me nauseous, but I suggested sushi and she agreed. Things are going to get a bit play-by-play here because it just happened. We went to the park and walked for a bit, during which time she complained about people at work. Then we headed over to the sushi place, where she was all kinds of particular about where we sat. I don't want to keep writing "and she talked about people at work", so just imagine that during all of the events I am describing, she is doing just that. Constantly. Good. We finally got our food, at which point she gushed for a bit about how wonderful sushi is. Which it is and all, but for fuck's sake, she got a Cali roll and a teriyaki bowl. I had a Spicy Tuna roll and a teriyaki bowl. We ate for a bit and she talked the entire time with food in her mouth. I cannot stand that.
She asked my what I had, and (brace yourself, this is gross) poked my Spicy Tuna roll with her fork that she had been eating off of! I didn't know what to do! I barely know this woman, and she's getting her germs all over my food. Shudder. I don't want to think about it anymore. I then had to explain to the Food-Toucher what was in my Spicy Tuna roll, since it isn't, y'know, self-explanatory at all. Then she says, and this is gold, "Oh I'm an expert on California rolls, but anything else I have no idea." Am I to take that it is hard to know all there is to know about California rolls? Seriously?
My question to you, dearest readers, is how I can politely deter her crazy advances without mucking up things at work. Keep in mind that she's crazy and I don't want to wake up to my cat's severed head or something.

Crash Into Me

It's official, Best Friend is cursed. I walked over to her parking lot after work (we actually managed to carpool yesterday) and as I came around the corner, a big SUV backed up into her parked car. Sounds like a not-uncommon event? Here's the thing. Best Friend has only has her driver's license for a year (don't get me started, she wouldn't even have it at all if I hadn't forced her to drive anywhere she wanted to go when we lived together). Previous to getting her license, she rode her bike down to her office. One day, she literally got hit by a truck while crossing the street. No major damage, but it was quite scary. A few months later, she had her license. One day, she was sitting in completely stopped traffic. Some crazy bitch behind her didn't understand that basic concept that, even though the light turned green, you cannot actually hit the gas if there are cars stopped in front of you. That psycho actually ended up driving on the sidewalk, smashing into the back of Best Friend's car and then adding insult to injury but continuing to smash her big SUV all along the side of Best Friend's car in her attempts to get off the sidewalk. Apparently, hitting the brakes wasn't the first thing on that crazy bitch's mind. Poor Best Friend's car was totaled, on top of which she had to deal with crazy bitch and her sketchy insurance situation. A few rental cars later and Best Friend had a new car. And then it got hit yesterday. This time it wasn't even running, let alone stopped. I'm fairly certain that I'm forgetting at least one incident involving car-crashes-in-which-Best-Friend-is-smashed. It's like she just shouldn't get into or even be in the general area of moving vehicles at all, ever. But since we live in Southern California, that just ain't gonna happen. Maybe she should look into driving a bumper car. That would be hilarious.

(P.S. I hate Dave Matthews and now I've got that song on repeat in my head. Grrrr...)

Deep Breathing Excercise

These past few days have been insane. Wednesday and Thursday of last week were spent frantically finishing a project at work (hence, no posts those days), Friday was spent packing up the rest of my belongings and having an emotional not-exactly-argument with Boyfriend. And then there was Saturday. Move-in Day. Everything went surprisingly well. With the actually moving of furniture anyway. I was so busy making sure that everything was packed and that I didn't leave anything behind and that my old place was properly cleaned that I forgot to eat properly. My hypoglycemia reared its ugly head and I done fainted y'all. I'm kind of embarrassed about it; I haven't even come close since Prom, when they thought I was drunk. Boyfriend found me, got me an orange and it was all okay. Except for the pounding in my head.
Even with that little episode, I managed to get all of my stuff moved in one day, with the help of Turbo's truck, Boyfriend, and Other Guy and his truck. So now I officially live in my beautiful new apartment with my often-absent roommate and Singe. Speaking of Singe, she is so happy already. I had thought that she would hide under the bed for at least a few days,but she was out and exploring the first day. She likes New Roommate and she seems to really like the new apartment. What she doesn't like is her new food. She basically ain't havin' it. I didn't feed her Saturday morning so that she would be all hungry when I fed her at the new apartment (which is a good trick to get her out from inside the box spring). So she got the new food Saturday afternoon. She ate a little of it Saturday and a little more on Sunday. This morning, however, she turned up her little cat nose at the same food that was perfectly fine the day before. I even buried treats under it, but no. She's suddenly too good for this food. Even though it's more expensive and better for her than the old food. Oh well, when she gets hungry enough, she'll eat it. It'll do her good to not eat so much anyway, she's too fat.
But look at this! I just moved to a whole new place and the only thing I'm worried about is that my cat doesn't like her food! Ah, life is beautiful...
Another way in which life is beautiful and this past weekend was great was that Old Roommate from College came up this weekend to visit. On Saturday she and Best Friend (who also lived with us, along with Number Four, which is a story for later) celebrated Purim, but on Sunday I, the poor neglected shiksa, was finally allowed to join them. We went out shopping and the only one who actually got anything was Boyfriend. He wasted his Boy-Shopping time right away and then was stuck wandering around with us Ladies for the rest of the time. Poor guy, we even went into Sephora. Just one of the ways that you can tell he doesn't have a sister.
After dinner, though, was the best time. Boyfriend and I walked the fifty feet to Best Friend's apartment and all four of us watched Pride & Prejudice (the Keira Knightley version). Now, before you knock on this version, I want to make it clear that I know that the Colin Firth version is a thousand times better. However, there are many important points about the K. K. version. 1) It is not 8 hours long. 2) The rain scene has more sexual tension packed into it than just about any other entire movie you can name. 3) Donald Sutherland. 4) The thing with Mr. Darcy's hand...so good.
So even though I had to take Boyfriend home a third of the way through it (I got back just in time for the rain scene), it was still a perfect night spent swooning on the couch with Old Roommate and Best Friend. Especially when Old Roommate informed us that Keira means "penises" in Farsi.