Thursday, July 10, 2014

And This Is Where I Kill You...

angry puppy is angry
Yeah, so I'm a little grumpy right now. I'm at work so that should give you a bit of a clue as to why I'm less than stellar.

I've been more confused-grumpy than actual grumpy-grumpy, but there are days where I just don't get it. [I don't.] And I'm not sure I ever will.

I believe myself to be a rather smart individual. By no means am I a physicist or NASA engineer, but I can stream thoughts and ideas in my mind and come up with something logical and comprehensible.

And then, there's shit like this...

copied/pasted from my Facebook

I'm not going to really get into it since there's history toward my grump-factor about certain things, but I'm sure you get the gist of the above comment.

I asked for three days off next month for my friend's birthday up north. To be more specific, I usually get off work on Fridays at 5pm so I can work my usual shift, and I'm off Sundays and Mondays... so all I need is to have Saturday night off. The schedule is made month to month so since it hasn't officially been done yet, and having a month advance notice to plan things out for ONE FRAKKIN DAY, you'd think this wouldn't be a problem.

I mean, COME ON! We're apparently fully-staffed, and since the new peeps got hired, I am no longer closing by myself on Saturday nights. I'd hope that the new guy will have his shit together enough to be able to handle one night alone. FRAK, I've been doing it for years.

Am I wrong in thinking that this is not my issue to have to handle? I mean, if I needed to have a day off this week - a week that has already been scheduled and posted since the beginning of the month - I would totally try to switch someone and get the day off. But this? It's a month in advance and for only one day? Is it really that hard to process and put together? I hope not.

My schedule had already been frakked up once when back at the beginning of January I asked for the first weekend of February off so I could go to my niece's birthday. (She turned 6 this year.) I was told "Sure! That shouldn't be a problem. Just remind me toward the end of the month closer to when I'll be making the schedule." All month I made comments to her and told others that I was looking forward to seeing my niece and that it was her birthday. I was asked to stay late or do a certain task, and I would say okay, and then get the reply back of "I owe you one", and I said, "You mean, in addition to getting the first weekend of February off?" and she'd say yes.

What happened? She scheduled me that weekend. And when I called her on it, she knew she frakked up and then proceeded to ask me to check if someone could take the shift. At that moment, I immediately thought, "Wait, that's not my problem. You said I could have the time off. I reminded you all month. Then when you make the mistake, I'm supposed to fix it? AWWW HELL NO!!!" When there was no one to take it, she had asked me, "Do you need both weekend days?" Um, hello? I'm going out of town to see my family. One way is three hours. So yeah! I need both frakkin days.

I know how you feel, dude.
And now this.

I'm tired of being angry and grumbly and wanting to "reach back like a pimp and slap the ho" - to paraphrase Eazy-E and Dynamite Hack.

Anyway, if it was up to me to take care of things, I'll just stop going to her and do my own thing so next time she looks over and sees I'm not at my desk, she can all, and I can say, "Oh, I arranged to have the day off since apparently I'm in charge of my own schedule."

I don't want to be catty, but she makes it hard sometimes.

Okay. Enough of me being grumbly. I'm done for the day... and get to do it all tomorrow.

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae

*ADDITIONAL*...
I checked my work email from home and found that my manager had been working late tonight. She replied to the email I sent this morning before I had to go help out with dispatch.
this is what I sent this morning...

and this is what she sent later that night...
how that made me feel... (goodnight y'all)

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Looking For My Groove...

Like the quote? I used an image instead of typing it out. You may call it being lazy. I call it trying something new.

Now what to talk about... oh yeah. I need to write more - plain and simple.

I've been having all kinds of ideas bubbling up in my noggin that I'd like to get out, but for some reason, I just don't seem to have the time and energy.

Mostly the energy.

And yeah yeah, I know. MAKE the time. I do try that, but frak it's hard.

Work is... well... work. My mind seems to stay busy with work crap - phone calls, typing, paperwork, menu revision, trying not to kill people who take me for granted or treat me like crap - but after my shift ends, my body starts to shut down. My mind screams "Freedom!" and starts shouting about all the things it wants to do, but then the body is yawning begging for a coma nap.

I need to get my body back into some kind of... better shape. Started back up at the gym but have paused again because 1. "powerloss" is making me nauseous which I don't want at the gym, and 2. my ankle.

I always start off my gym routine with an hour on the treadmill. When I first started going to the gym, it took a while for me to work up to a whole hour, and then I petered out a bit, but it's like riding a bike, right? I went back, feet were not happy, left leg (aka the car accident leg) started voicing loud unhappiness, but I'm gravitating now between 45min to an hour... depending on what kind of day I'm having.

But now my lovely left ankle is quite unhappy with me... again. Back after the car accident, my left leg - from about knee to ankle - swelled up causing me to limp a bit. Occasionally the chiropractor had to adjust my ankle - which is not the most pleasant feeling in the world compared to when my neck and back get adjusted.

Now I don't think I have to go back to the chiro, but I do need to take care of myself. Anthony B at work (a fellow Filipino half-breed) said I needed to RICE it, but it's a little difficult to ice an ankle at work. I tried that last year when I was all swollen and sore. The desks at work are not conducive to properly icing... or even elevating for that matter... one's ankle. I can do the other two, so at least that's something. I took Jessie F's advice about wearing more stable shoes for the time being since I have these comfy sandals that have a little bit of a heel to them, and I have been stumbling on my left ankle lately. So yeah... I'm being good, and hopefully I'll be able to get back to the gym and melt some fat off.

I also need to get back to making/bringing meals to work. Crappy thing is that I can't really cook here. The kitchen is always cluttered and poorly organized and the times I've redone the kitchen fridge and the pantry, it just got frakked up again. I made myself a shelf in the garage fridge as well as a shelf in the door of said fridge, but sheesh. I just took it.

It's so hard being OCD in a house that knows it's got an organizational problem and does nothing to really fix it. *sigh*

I haven't updated any of my story blogs. (I know, I'm a bad story blog mama, but I'm aiming to fix that soon.) Also I've been looking over my Figment account. I only have one story on it (a contest submission I did), but in looking at the page, I'm wondering if I should add one or a few or all of my story blogs to Figment. I can update "Chapters"... not sure though. Also was part of the Book Country beta and am wondering what I should with that account.

I'm terrible at this. *headdesk* <Help?!>

I've been adding notes almost every day to my NaNoWriMo story for this year so that's still something. I'm hoping that by the time November rolls around, I'll have enough to write a complete novel this time around. And speaking of novels, I'm also tinkering with additional scenes for the two that I still need to finish - "Chloe" and "DG" - but hopefully that'll get underway soon. My revised goal is to be published (in some capacity) by November 2016. Hopefully I can make that happen.

I'd like to get back to the Terry Pratchett school of thought which is to write at least 300 words a day because if you write every day, you can call yourself a writer instead of not writing and just being a lazy bum.

Okay, I'm paraphrasing, but you get my point.

I need a calm zen space to work. I need to not have yappy dogs and stompy, loud older men taking my zen away. Dammit.

I also have to REALLY look over Jim G's outline. I have a couple thoughts, but again, that zen place where can I hear my own thoughts would help in that regard GREATLY.

Man, I need my own place.

Okie dokie my little artichokies... I think it's time I attempt this thing called sleep and hopefully have some pretty righteous dreams. (Can you train yourself to be totally functional with 4-5 hours of sleep? That would be ideal. If so, let me know.) In the meantime...

Later my lovelies.

Have Gooodness!
Rae

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Everything Has A Backstory...

Casey: I gather it went well.
Dan: You know sometimes it's worth it, taking all the pies in the face. Sometimes you come through it feeling good.
Casey: Yes.
Dan: And how was your day?
Casey: Sometimes you just stand there, hip deep in pie.
-from the show "Sports Night" - Season 1, Episode 15: "Dana and the Deep Blue Sea"

Have you ever noticed the random abandoned items along the road?

Yesterday I went to Barnes & Noble after work as part of my errands (this was more of a selfish errand since I wanted to get "All You Need is Kill" by Hiroshi Sakurazaka - the book the movie "Edge of Tomorrow" was based off of. There's also a graphic novel, but I chose the paperback instead).

In any case, I parked in the front of the building, and as I was walking up the curb along the store's front window to the door, I saw what from a distance looked like a tiny child's toy in the shape of a turtle but ended up being a pair of children's white bobby socks tucked into each other (you know, like you do when putting laundry away).

Now the socks could have fallen out of a stroller earlier in the day or a mommy's diaper bag or an irate child could have just flung them off in a tantrum (cuffing them together, of course, as most infants are wont to do) declaring socks are evil and they shall not be anywhere near their feet.

Anyway, moving on...

I've just noticed a lot more lately the stuff discarded and forgotten as I go about my life in this world. In the past few weeks, I've seen socks, caps, bags, shoes... it's as if someone is stripping as they go on a walkabout.

Other scrapped items I've seen of the more grandiose scale are couches, bails of hay, washers and dryers, large car parts, cars, televisions, and too many more to mention, but trust me, if you can imagine it, it's been left somewhere in the middle of nowhere... or an often sped down stretch of concrete that a driver might catch out of the corner of their eye and thinking Was that a flamingo standing next to a wagon wheel?

Lately I've been wondering how those items get where they end up and what choice(s) was/were made to have them end up there? Did someone wake up one morning and say, "I think I'll put my recliner on the freeway." Did they make that decision because the recliner wronged them in some way? Did they fall in love with a brand new, more top of the line recliner? Did they start dating someone that didn't like the recliner eventually having the comfy chair losing out to "either the chair goes or I go" scenario.

I don't know. Maybe it's the writer part of my brain or my morbid sense of humor/curiosity. Maybe both parts are one in the same... or at least close knit siblings to one another.

The infamous visual oddity that I always see and wonder about are the tied together pair of shoes hanging from the telephone wire. I can understand chucking a shoe in an emotional state to either vent some steam or in hopes of beaning someone in the noggin, but taking the time to tie them together and then lasso them over the wire like a grappling hook with no tether?

I'd heard from someone once that they heard from someone else it was to mark where drug dealers lived - for their customers, I guess. Not sure how valid that is, or if it's fact, how popular that notion is, but you'd think cops would catch on by now that all their drug busts have shoes hanging nearby.

I like stories, and these tossed away items get the wheels in my mind turning as to how they go there - what was their story.

Like those children's socks in front of the bookstore.

I imagine a mother taking them off her child, cuffing them together before tucking them into her bag or storage bin of the carriage. It's a warm day, and she doesn't want her child to be overheated. Once away from the child, the socks - now Siamese twin socks joined at the head and neck - struggle together to wiggle from the secure spot in the carriage and leap to freedom, away from that terrible child that never loved them away - always kicking them off in its sleep, yanking on them and stretching them apart while laying on its back and curling its feet toward its face. The worst was when it would yank them off their feet and shove them in its mouth. Oh the horror! No sock should EVER have to go through that. So after many hours of therapy with their therapist (Blanky and Mr. Bear), they decided to take their lives into their own hands and free themselves from the tyranny of vicious little children who have no respect for their adolescent hosiery.

...
...
...

Or something like that. *innocent grin/blink blink*

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

How I Spent My Mother's Day

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." 
-Isaac Asimov

"I would like to see anyone, prophet, king or God, convince a thousand cats to do the same thing at the same time." 
-Neil Gaiman, English author

She always loved cuddling with my turtles.
She hadn't been eating, drinking or using her catbox for the past couple days. I didn't really think anything about the food since she was always a nibbler. It didn't matter how much I put in her bowl. It would always last a couple days or so. I'd add a scoop when it was low, and then she eat that down. For the water I had one of those bottles that you fill that screws into a bowl - you flip it upside down and it would dispense water as she drank it down. Her catbox I usually cleaned out about once a day depending on the state she left it in.

She was also losing her grace. When I first got her back in March 2003 - she was 2 then - she was like a ballerina. I remember having a laundry basket by my bed, and instead of going around it, she would sit back on her hind legs as if staring at the bed, calculating angles and velocities, waiting for the perfect moment, and then - she'd bound in the air, over the laundry basket and land with a silent thud atop my bed. Within the past month, she was unsuccessful at times at leaping onto the bed. Usually she'd be waiting for me when I got home, whining at me to stop moving and pet her. I would put all my work stuff away and then lay on the bed so we could have a chat about our days. She would come by, headbutt my hand, lick me, letting me know she missed me. Then after a few minutes, I'd get up, change into my pajamas, pop open the laptop to do some writing or watch some shows or sometimes grab a book and read - all the while with her right next to me.

Doing what does best -- napping.
Friday morning I had cleaned out her catbox. There wasn't much in it, but as per our usual routine, I knew there'd be something in it later. She'd also gotten in the habit of crunching her food down only to leave crumbs. Once she'd eat a hole down the center of the bowl, she'd wine at me as if to say "Mom! It's empty!" I would usually sprinkle a little extra kibble in there, swirl it around with the smaller bits, and she'd be happy and chomp away. Saturday morning as I was getting ready to work the closing shift at work, I realized I hadn't seen her at all the previous night - sometimes when I toss and turn she hops off the bed and goes to sleep on the floor beside or under the bed - or at all that morning. Previous mornings I'd add kibble to her bowl, and she'd come right out with that look of "food?". When I added the kibble Saturday morning, she didn't come out from under the bed. After work, I went to a friend's house for a birthday party with her on my mind a bit wondering what was wrong, thinking maybe she had grown to sleeping under the bed since she was having trouble making up on the bed successfully. I got home, barely made it into my pajamas, and passed out. I had become used to her crawling out from under the bed to sleep beside me, but she didn't.

Getting in the way while I make the bed.
Sunday morning around 12pm, I got up to use the bathroom. When I got back to my room, I noticed the kibble I had put in her bowl hadn't been touched. I lifted the top off her catbox, and the litter was undisturbed. With the flashlight app on my phone, I got down on my knees, pulled back the bedding to find her. There was she, under the part of the bed where I lay my head every night. She was staring at the wall. I said, "There you are," she looked at me. We stared at each other for a moment, then I shut the light off and sat on top of the bed and waited. Sure enough, she slinked out from under the bed, and stood looking up at where I was. Her other unsuccessful times, she'd made it as far as half her body over the side of the bed and tried to push with her hind legs to get up the rest of the way. This time she leapt, didn't even clear the height of the bed and landed on the floor. When I looked down at her - usually at times like these she would look up at me with that "What Mom? I meant to do that," look - she just stared straight in front of her at the hanging part of the comforter.

Never let me write.
I leaned down to pick her up, and she let me, which was odd for her. Most of the time when I would show her affection, she would give me the paw - press one paw to my shoulder and push/look away like "Mom, you're embarrassing me" - but this time she just laid against me. I held her in my arms, and she felt so small. She'd always been small, always a constant 9lbs. When I laid her on the bed before me and stroked her fur from head to tail, I felt her spine poking up from underneath her grey coat.

Her symptoms reminded me of my friend Jess F's cat. He was sick and toward the end he had been listless, hiding from people, not eating or drinking, and looked/felt thin. I texted her first to see if she was up. She was. I asked if it was okay to call her. She said yes. I called and asked her about her cat's symptoms toward the end. What she told me confirmed they were similar to what my little fuzzy princess was going through.

Didn't like it when I read, either.
Worried, I wanted to take her to the vet, but I had no idea how I was going to pay for it since most of my last paycheck went to beginning of the month bills, and my car settlement payment hadn't come in yet. Jess said she'd help out where she could and gave me the url and phone number to her vet. I called, explained the situation to the appointment desk - payment and all - and he forwarded me to a tech who could better help with estimates and information. As I got dressed, she hopped off the bed, and I watched her back end fall down and lean against my laptop bag on the floor. She then tried to get into my closet - which she knows is a no-no - and I picked her up and set her down away from the closet, and her back end fell down again. This worried me as did what I thought was heavy drooling. I dressed, borrowed a carrier from my landlady, put my fragile little kitty inside and headed to the vet.

During the car ride, she was quiet which only worried me more since she hated car rides and always yowled to and from wherever we were going, also always at least peeing once during the trip. This time she was silent and there was no odor of her pissing in the carrier.

I called her white paw my "lucky paw".
My mind raced with thoughts of mortality and murder and when having to decide to end a life of a loved one, is it murder? Whether it was or not, my mind turned to these and other somewhat dark thoughts. I tried to be hopeful - the tech had said that it could just be an allergy or nausea or a sinus infection - but with the way she was acting, I feared the worst and wasn't sure I would be able to make the decisions I might have to make.

I met with the appointment desk who then gave me a clipboard of documents to fill out since I was new, and then she called a tech after I explained my kitty's symptoms. The tech came, and I followed her back to the emergency area, and there we met the vet. We reviewed what I had told the tech, and when he brought her out of the carrier, he immediately was not pleased. He said she was severely hydrated. She was also disoriented. She tried to stand but looked like a dog on rollerskates, her legs splaying out around her. The drooling was from a sinus issue she was having. He didn't feel any tumors, but he said she had a heart murmur. They took her temperature - 103 degrees. As the vet started to explain things to me, I started to get teary-eyed, and I barely remember a nurse taking the untouched clipboard and pen away from me. I heard him whisper to her for Kleenex. He kept saying it didn't look good and that if there was any treatment to be done, it would require hospitalization, and even then, he wasn't hopeful.

Over the shoulder cuteness.
Not sure about the financial part of things or anything, I called Jess to let her know what was happening. She put me on hold for a couple minutes and then told me that she was on her way. The vet went to tend to other animals and they left me with my kitty - my Nimitz - to cry, calm down, think. The nurse came back to check on me and asked if she could give me a hug. I let her. It was slightly comforting. The nurse weighed her - Nimitz was 6.5 pounds. I cried some more. For privacy and in case an emergency came in so as not to alert Nimmy, the nurse moved me into an empty exam room. She laid a towel atop the counter and placed Nimmy on top of it and then closed the door. I leaned over the counter, cradling Nimmy against me, crying my eyes out. When I would stand beside the counter, she would awkwardly try to stand and headed for the edge. I leaned down again and cuddled her, stroking her fur, and she just leaned into me.

She had always been so good in telling me what she wanted, what was wrong. I kept asking her why she didn't say anything, but all she did was lay against me, her head on my arm, her nose touching the table, and breathed. I could hear the sinus issue then in the quietness of the room. I kept kissing her fur on her head and back, telling her that I loved her. I laid my ear against her body and listened to her heart not sure what a murmur sounded like, but I heard a steady beat of something inside. The nurse came back in to check on me. She checked Nimmy's teeth and said her gums were white which was evidence of poor circulation, mostly resulting from the heart murmur. It was probably also the cause of her back legs failing as well as the lack of coordination. She left again to say she'd keep checking on me.

Guarding my bag as I packed for a Fresno trip.
Eventually a different nurse opened the door and said I had a couple of visitors, and I knew that the other person was Dawn S. A small part of me thought back to when the three of us were at this vet office before, and the outcome was not pleasant. They came in and the nurse closed the door. Eventually I just picked Nimmy up to hold her close to me. "Auntie" Jess said hi and gave her lovies. I introduced her to Dawn. They had never met, but Dawn was loving to my little furball and gave her lots of lovies, too. I told them what I knew but was honest that most of it went into the ether since I was out of my mind once things got dour. We waited for the nurse to come back in and check on us. Jess became my voice talking to the vet about what was going on and what our options were. I had started to cry again at this point. We had decided to at least do the blood test and then would make more decisions after that. A nurse and tech came by to take some blood, and more tears came. They said the results would take about an hour, and the girls waited with me. I huddled over Nimmy again, bawling like a crazy person. She smelled of rubbing alcohol and was wet where they doused her with it before they drew the blood. Her fur was also damp from my tears. At one point I begged for someone to talk about something other than my cat, and for a while we talked about crafting projects and work and redecorating. Eventually Jess asked me what I wanted to do when I had calmed down some. I told her that I didn't want Nimmy to suffer so if the result was long term care that wasn't going to permanently heal her, I would not prolong her pain. Jess had commented that she didn't look good which made me sob a little more. Nimmy's head rested weakly on my arm, her eyes - according to Jess - barely open. Her breathing seemed shallow to me.

To nap or not to nap?
The vet returned, and the prognosis wasn't good. She had a low red blood cell count, and her body wasn't making any more. In the end, he said the treatments wouldn't be an option, that she didn't have long. I asked him how long. He said not long. When I said "weeks?" he said "no"... barely days.

After I made the decision, we were escorted to the private room where the three of us had been for Jess's kitty Taz (Nimitz's "boyfriend"). Dawn and I sat away from Jess as she laid with Taz. I remember being a rock for Jess until the injection and lost it, my eyes blurred with tears before I heard Jess wail. This time it was me. I wanted to hold  her while they did it, but I didn't think I could. I was afraid I'd freak out, drop her, something she didn't deserve. Instead I sat on the floor and laid her out on a large cotton pad the nurse placed before me. They shaved one of her hind legs to find the vein to put the needle in that had a tube attached to it. Then the vet took a syringe of something blue and injected it into her. She was curled on her side - like she was wont to do. The nurse was holding her body, and I was stroking her head and looking into her eyes which were always so big and green. After the injection was done - I didn't think it would take long since she was so small to begin with - he listened to her heart, and he told me that my sweetness was at peace. I thanked them, and they left the room to give us some time.

Always a cute sleeper.
I stared into her eyes as I pet her head. I repeatedly apologized to her and told her I loved her. Jess reassured me that I loved her, and I did what was best for her. That I was a good mommy. Her body twitched a little which threw me off guard. Jess explained that she was gone and that the body was dying, and it does that. She stopped moving, and I hugged her and kissed her. Then we dialed for the nurse to come get her. We were to leave out the side door, but I couldn't leave her alone like that. We waited for the nurse, and I watched her pick Nimitz up and take her away, her body limp in her arms. They told us we didn't have to pay then, and that they'd be in touch when the ashes were ready to pick up.

Once we were outside, I cried again. The ladies walked me to my car and asked what I wanted to do then. I had no idea. I was completely void of anything at that point. I opted to go home. My mind focused on throwing out my cat stuff immediately so I wouldn't dwell on what had happened that day. They said to call on them if I needed them. We hugged and they left. (I love and appreciate those ladies for being with me that day.)

"Why aren't you paying more attention to me?"
I sat in my car and called my brother Lynn. He and his family had three cats - Koko and Iggy from when they lived in Fresno, Scout when they lived in SoCal. When they were in SoCal, Scout got sick and in the end had to be put to sleep. Most recently in Fresno Koko and Iggy went one after the other during the holidays and are buried in my sister-in-law's (Ana Marie) parents' backyard.  For some reason, all that came to mind and in some weird robotic autopilot, I called him. I had woken him from a nap, and when he asked what was up, I told him what had happened. He and his family (and my mom) had met Nimitz once before when I was living with Anna C and Jaime H. After that news, I asked him how Mother's Day Brunch went, and he said it went well. My beautiful niece Bella played waitress to Ana Marie, her mother Anabel, and our mother Bea. When I told him I was done, that Nimitz was the only pet I would ever have, he played the "never say never" card which I suppose may be true, but with the amount of animal loss through my friends and family of animals that were like family to me - and now my own animal? - no, at this moment, I am done. I don't have it in me to do again. In the end, he said I should hang out with my friends, and I told him I would probably do that, but at the moment, there were things that I needed to do before that. I guess my mind/body was just trying to keep busy/distracted.

Diva pose.
I went home then driving the entire way with the radio off and the windows rolled down. When I got home, no one was home. I found things had been moved around oddly, and later I found out that the older man my landlady cares for at home fell again - he's having leg pains - and the EMTs had to move things to carry him out of the house. (He's currently at the hospital for observation.) She got home shortly after I did, and when I thanked her for the use of her carrier, she asked how it went with my cat. At this point when I told her, she was rather sympathetic, but my face had completed dried out. The plan at that point was to do laundry and throw out cat stuff. After I tossed everything out, I went back to my room to collect laundry and when looking for something to wear for laundry day, I looked down and saw "Jonny Cat" which confused me for a moment and then I realized that it was the almost empty tub of cat litter. I grew apathetic and decided to toss it out later and used it to prop open my closet - and have since left it open since there's no one around to keep it closed from. It was only one load of laundry, and as it cycled in the wash, I wrote a little blurb on Facebook reposting an Instagram pic I took of her on my bed.

"This is no longer your sweater, Mom. It's mine."
Later on after chatting with my friend Jon S, he picked me up as my laundry was drying and we went for boba tea and tacos. Once in the car with him, I was tired but happy to get out of the house. I looked like shit - in a black cotton dress, baggy jeans, Skechers type Uggs, light grey hoodie and a blue knit cap with my hair in a ponytail. Every time I laughed, I felt bad. At one point I told Jon "stop making me laugh, I'm supposed to be sad", and he said that as my friend it was his job to make me laugh. He's sweet like that. Thanks Jaquas. (While at the vet when we were alone, Jess, Dawn and I made lighthearted funny comments and conversations but as soon as someone else was in the room, it immediately got dark - at least for me - again.)

Hiding.
When something sad or bad happens, I feel bad about being happy or smiling or laughing since this sad thing happened. I just feel like I should be sad. But the laughter at the silly thing my friend said or the weird video on the TV or the drunk guys talking near us at the taco place... it felt natural and after a while I just let it come out instead of trying to stifle it or deny myself of any of it. I got back home at something like 3am or so. I grabbed my laundry from the dryer, made a pit stop at the ladies room, and then went back to my room. I put the laundry away and got ready for bed, and that was my first "phantom kitty" moment.

"If I don't look at her, she can't see me, right?"
Jess had brought it up regarding Taz and when I told my brother about it, he agreed since he still does the same thing. Jess would see a kitty out of the corner of her eye. My brother would kick a leg up on a chair when he was at the table writing and still make sure he didn't kick Iggy.

Me? I waited for Nimitz to join me on the bed and had to remember she wasn't here anymore. I also still open the door and make sure to close it so she doesn't get out. She never made a run for the door anyway, but I was still wary of the possibility. Not sure how long I'm going to be like this. I don't like it. It feels weird going out and knowing that I don't have a little someone waiting for me at home. The OCD part of my brain is plotting out possibilities of how to reorganize the room since there's a little more space, but the rest of me sees where her stuff used to be and thinks I should hold off on that kind of thing... at least for a little while.

"Can I help you?"
Still having her on my mind, I felt the need to write out what happened, what I was thinking, feeling. While recalling everything, I started to get misty and emotional in the same way I did at the vet hospital... as if it were happening again. I remember when I first got her when living with my friend Kim M. She had adopted a friend's cat - Manny - and around that time we went to faire or out of town to visit family/friends, and we thought we should get a little friend to keep Manny company during the times we were away as well as someone to keep me company.

"Mom! Stop blogging and look at me!"
I adopted her from Furry Friends Rescue at Petsmart in Milpitas on March 1, 2003. I kinda wanted a Russian Blue kitty (female for sure), but then when I went into the room with all the kitties, I stared into this one little cage and saw this little grey furball. She looked over her shoulder at me, and those big green eyes made me melt. I opened the gate and put my hand inside to pet her, and she immediately began licking my hand. The volunteer said the cat liked me, and I was smitten. She was also a diluted tortoise breed which I thought was a sign since I love turtles. Also her coloring reminded me of a character from a military scifi series by David Weber - an empathic three-feet long, six limbed male treecat named Nimitz that adopted a woman named Honor Harrington. Her paperwork said "Pixie" but I immediately called her Nimitz (my own little treecat... though she had a little more than a foot long and only had the standard four limbs. She meowed in the car on the way home, and we left her in the carrier and let Manny get a feel for her. When I let her out, she immediately hid in the tiniest of corners. The volunteer told me that she was underfed and that I needed to add some oil with vitamins to her food so she'd eat it. She didn't like it so I stopped adding it, and she ate happily. Eventually she got a little ponch on her, and the first time I heard her happily purr made me smile.

Adopted March 1, 2003 (at 2 years old)
Rest In Peace May 11, 2014 (age 13 years old)
I distinctly remember her hopping up on the bed, walking up along my leg and then collapsing and me feeling this little body leaning against me. It just made me happy. She used to want to sleep on me - mostly my chest. As time went on, she was fine with sleeping on the pillow above my head or spooning with me or laying on my legs. In recent years she had grown to sleep on either corner of the bed near my head.

It feels weird to laugh or smile because I immediately think of her and the fact that she's not around, and then I stop. It's only been a day. Maybe I'm just being dramatic or weird. I suppose I'll balance out in a little bit.

The strange thing is, I was expecting my settlement money from the two car accidents I was in last year (February & June 2013). The original plan was to get the money, leave at the crack of dawn for Fresno to crash the Mother's Day Brunch and see my mom for Mother's Day and also see my niece who I haven't seen in what feels like ages as well, of course, to see the rest of my family. But instead I spent Mother's Day laying my little one to rest. I can't help but think now after hearing the time frame the vet gave Nimitz that if I had gone to Fresno, what I would have come home Monday night.

It's almost 5am, and it's taken me a lot longer to write this than I thought it would. I should be in bed since I have to be up in a couple hours to get ready for work. I had to stop and wipe my nose and clear my eyes and remember how to breathe. I think I'm stable now. I'm not as much of an emotional rollercoaster as I thought I'd be, but hey, it's only been a day. In any case, I think I'll sign off now.

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae

Mommy misses you, Nimmy! And love you always & forever! xoxoxo

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

In Desperate Need of a Spa Day!

I know life is hard, I think everyone knows that in their hearts, but why does it have to be cruel as well? Why does it have to bite?
-from the book "11/22/63" by Stephen King

My life as of late has been filled with random occurrences of odd and a whole lot of boring with a dash of fed-up.

I had to work Saturday night. I work the closing shift EVERY Saturday night... which is a bit on the crap side but oh well. What can ya do, right?

Working Saturdays kinda bums me out since a lot of social events happen on those days. I've missed many a gathering, many a time at the meadery... I feel left out of the world. I sit at my desk and look out the window across the room to my right and even though the blinds are shut, I can still see the sun shining outside... until eventually when I look and see that the sun has gone, and it makes me feel like I've missed something.

And each time I feel that, I feel like nothing and no one is missing me, and I'm slowly being forgotten.

Aside from missing out on a local social life, working Saturday nights makes it a little difficult to visit my family who are three hours away. Since my accident last year, I'm a little on the phobic side on heading to see my family after a closing shift from work. (Hell, I'm a bit phobic when crossing intersections.) As it is, I still imagine that even though it's my right of way, SOMEONE is going to come out of nowhere and hit me. Then my mind starts to race with what if it's worse this time? What if I break something or I'm hospitalized? So far, I've just been achey/sore... although the accident from February 2013 left me with bruises and swelling and a whole mess of bad stuff that I don't want to relive EVER! (Crappiest part about that whole time was that I couldn't play with my niece like I usually do. I could only sit there and play as best I could. But at least I got to be with her so that was a plus.)

I think that I could do it anyway and then come back Monday night (since I have Sundays and Mondays off and have to be at work by 9am on Tuesday), but matching finances with timing... plus, the past several Saturdays I've closed (alone *sigh*), I've gotten out close to 11pm, and driving three hours (at best) to get to my mom's around 2am-3am? Sheesh.

I wish I was one of those people that could survive on three hours of sleep. I mean, truly survive on that much sleep and not act/look/sound like a zombie the next day. (Then again, I wish I didn't have insomnia, but that's a cursed tale unto itself.)

I have to remember to email my manager about time off in July for NERDHQ. Aside from extenuating circumstances (like getting hit by a truck and not having a car or money to go), work couldn't promise me the time off even though I put in the time off MONTHS in advance. I realized that logically I wasn't able to make it and ended up essentially recalling my time off request. Right now, we're having "issues" filling the final CS position so as it is everyone is getting an extra few hours added to their schedule here and there (for example, I'm usually off Sundays and Mondays, but a couple Mondays this month I'm scheduled to work 9am-1pm.) I would really like to be able to get the time off, but I always "expect the worst and hope for the best" so I'm banking on nothing happening in my favor.

But hey... concentrating on the things you can change, right?

Let's talk about something writing related! I know... TIME TRAVEL!!!

I was working on that time travel short story for a contest via Figment. The submission deadline was Friday - May 2nd. And I was having such a hard time figuring out what to write. I had a couple ideas, and both were a little on the depressing side. I ended up going down the more violent-ish route in a way. It wasn't until about two days before the due date that I had an idea and the words started to flow, and I was happy... but then there was the issue of having the energy to write. Oh I hated it.

I mentioned the time travel prompt to a friend of mine at work - Aaron C - and he came up with an idea that we bantered about, and then he asked if I could send him the link to the contest. So I did when I got home from drinking with a friend. The next morning, I get a message back from him saying he has a draft for me to read. (Bastard!) Later that day at work he told me it took him an hour - he had played some Diablo, saw that I messaged him the link, and BOOM! - wrote it out. (Double bastard!) Now when cursing him, I'm not really upset at him... I'm upset at me since it was so easy for him, and so... NOT... for me.

Being limited to 1k of words for a story hurt my brain. It's bad enough to try and condense my verbosity in real life... but in my stories? Frak that! I ended up writing until I had some semblance of a story. I was at 1,075-ish word count. I reviewed the story and bolded what I thought could be cut/condensed.

1,065
1,030
1,025

Eventually I got down to 987 words. (Yay for me.)

Then I had to come up with a title. (headdesk)

And a synopsis. (double headdesk)

Since I was overthinking a title and synopsis and spinning out of my mind, I finally submitted my story around 9pm (even though I was done with the actual STORY hours earlier). I have no idea how long judging takes or how they go about it, but my head still hurts from him.

I shared the other contests with Aaron on Saturday... one of which is a Good vs Evil scenario about you having a twin and deciding who's good or bad or if you're both one or the other, etc. The part of the contest that made my brain twitch was the word limit: 400.

There's another contest where the word limit is something like 750, but my first thought is If the 1k limit hurt me, less might kill me.

Oh yeah. It's also STORY A DAY IN MAY. I always mean to do this in good faith, but I don't think I could keep up. The first prompt is from Neil Gaiman. Yeah, that's not carrot-dangling at all! *sigh*

So the writing that I've been WANTING to do or ACTIVELY working on at the moment doesn't come to mind leaving me a drooling Hodor of a person. But hey, a completely random writing inspiration came to mind as an ending of another story that I've been dabbling with here and there but not working on since I have no semblance of beginning, middle, and end. Finding out the ending of THAT story made me so damn excited, I wanted to write that one, but all I have is a vague idea with a solid-ish ending.

And to top things off, I've been dreaming lately.

(The following is copied/pasted from my FB.)

1. A group of friends of mine and I live in this giant multilevel house (that in real life me and Kathy W saw on our way to an author event a few weeks back). In it, I had just started dating Nathan Fillion. Later on in the day, Kathy is walking Steve C to the door, and I tell her that Nathan wants me to come to the event in LA this coming weekend. Apparently we're all staying at one person's house, and she tells me that our host (no idea who) doesn't want Nathan to stay at the house. When I ask why, it's because he's been in and out of their lives as friends and our circle so he can't stay at the house for the weekend. Then Steve said, "But it's Nathan Fillion! Who doesn't want Nathan Fillion staying at their house?"

2. I'm dining at some lovely, cozy family-owned restaurant, and for some reason I'm singing and dancing around the room at various tables, etc. I'm spinning, my dress is twirling, I'm having fun and apparently I'm a good singer. (Remember, this is a dream.) I finish, everyone applauds, and it's time to leave. I'm saying goodbye to the hosts/owners, and Matthew Morrison (who I'm not sure if he's playing him in this dream, but oh well) comes up and says, "You're a wonderful singer." I look over my shoulder at him and say, "I'm not all that great. I just do it for fun." He ends up following me outside, and we talk some more. I think I say something about singing wherever/whenever I can, and he suggests on us finding someplace to sing. Across the street is a church with loud beautiful choir singing booming out of it. He suggests we go, and we cross the street.

3. In this dream, I go to Kim M's house to help her with her room some more, and I see two dressers and a desk (none of which are actually hers or in her room) completely bare and empty of stuff. I ask what happened, and she said, "This is what happens when you have time for laundry. Every question I had about her room was answered with a laundry answer... even if it had nothing to do with laundry. The entire time in the dream she was dressed in a big fluffy white robe.

4. Last dream that I can recall, I had my own place. It's not too big, but it's comfortable enough to have people over for games or movies, etc. The place is clean, and I have Jessie F over. There's some big friend event coming up, and I suggest we have it at my place. She is doubtful that we can fit a lot of people in my place. -- I also remember being alone at one point and cooking. (I think also in this dream I have some kickass job, I'm financially secure... I just seem happy.)


Since these dreams - which happened last month for the most part - I had a dream during a nap I took within the past week. I can't remember much of it, but I was in some dark garden/cemetery type of place where the only light came from the moon which was off/on blocked by the clouds. There were two girls that apparently had been separated from their families - maybe from each other - and it was my job to reunite them somehow. I remember finding the first girl who was the youngest but trusting, and she had a light green aura surrounding her. On the other end of the property, I found her sister(?), and she had a coppery aura about her (like Sandy from Rise of the Guardians - but brighter). I had knitting needles that were similar in color to her so it was assumed they were hers. She was older than the other girl but more shy and less trusting. I said, "Hello. I think these are yours?" She shied away from me when I held them out to her. I took them back and apologized if I scared her. I was talking to her in soothing tones, and I can't remember if I told her my name was Becca or I thought her name was Becca. In either case, she seemed to realize something and let me get close to her. Then we hugged and got a little weepy.

And then someone through the fourth wall said, "Okay, that's good, but next time could you give her a little more time and not rush it so much?" We both looked at this person (who I have no idea who the hell it was or supposed to be)...

... and then I woke up.

Okie dokie artichokie... I think this post has gone on long enough so I will end with a comment on my work commute.

It all started maybe a month or so ago.

I think my work commute - on a good day - is roughly 20min on average. I hop on the expressway near my house, connect to another expressway, take the exit a couple blocks from my work and BOOM! - I'm done.

Now anyone that lives in a metropolitan area knows that commuter math is harder than Chinese algebra. I could never understand if I lived 10-15min away from somewhere, why does it take me two hours to get there? Yes, I know it has to do with everyone trying to get somewhere at the same time, but when I used to work 10am-6pm, I'd leave my house no later than 9:30am and get to work with time to spare. Forget the fact that I got to use the carpool lane. All lanes of traffic were flowing like rain in a thunder storm.

Now that I'm working 9am-5pm, I leave about 30min before I'm due at work and get there with time to spare... at least I used to.

When it started, Tuesday would always be fine, but it was always a toss up between Wednesday through Friday on which of those days was gonna frak me. I'm make my right turn, gradually move over to the center lane, and within a couple blocks, traffic would give me the finger and say "Frak off, Missy!" I always managed to take surface streets around the first expressway, and by the time I would get to the second, there'd be no traffic. I think a couple times there was construction or a car accident - and y'all know how people like to rubberneck but in the same breath bitch about everyone else being slow in traffic.

Then the first expressway would start to be packed and slow more than one day a week... then almost every day that week. My surface street work around then got frakked and that would be a parking lot, too. I would get off the second expressway, take surface streets and make it work a few minutes after my start time.

Then the red lights turned against me. No matter where I turned, I would hit every red light. I'd hear them laughing at me as I sat in my car WAITING. The last light on the second expressway right before my turn off would turn red with me right behind the crosswalk, and I swear it felt like a million years passed before my light turned green again.

The latest addition to the chaos is people cutting me off AND people slowing down in front of me FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER!!! There's no one in front of them. There's no police cruisers in sight. Once I was on my way to work, and I was in the far right lane. Before me was a car in each of the lanes going the same speed so if I wanted to pass, I couldn't. Then they all slowed... and we were the only cars on the road. I look at clock and I have a couple minutes to get to work. Then at the light just before my turn, both cars speed up and merge to the left lane to turn/u-turn, and I swear I wanted to choke them out.

And then that light turned red.

Oh, and I have tried compensating for the traffic issue. My usual routine is to get up two hours before I'm supposed to be at work to shower, dress, and head to the office. When I started showing up late to work (at the most 20min, I think... which I stayed late to make up for my tardiness), I would leave earlier and earlier for work. 45min. An hour. NOTHING HELPED!!!

Ever since my two car accidents last year, I will not take the freeway to work in the mornings. Saturdays when I'm closing, however, I will take the freeway. There's an on-ramp near my house, and the commute is quick and painless.

This past Saturday, I was PMS'ing so I decided to go to the Taco Bell down the street for some nachos. I pulled into the drive-thru and placed my order about 45min before my shift was to start. There were two other cars in front of me, the lead car at the window. I guess they were busy or behind on orders or something so I ended up waiting a while. And then when I got to the window - I had ordered nachos, a taco and a drink - the lady holds up a small bag about to hand it to me. I ask, "Nachos and a taco?" She said, "Yes," then looked down at the bag and said, "But it looks like they made you two tacos. Be right back." I watch her remove one of the tacos and talk to someone to make my nachos. Now the lady was sweet and nice so I overlooked the mishap, but I chance a look at the clock in my car, and I have 10min to get to work. REALLY? You have got to be kidding me?! Eventually I get my nachos and pull forward in the drive thru. I WAS going turn left from the lot to get to the light, turn left and then turn left again at the next main street... but there were city workers doing some surveying crap and standing in the road near the left turn lane... so I went right. When I got to the main road that leads to work was when I met up with the two cars going slow and blocking me from passing them. They went left, I hit the red light and look at the clock.

Two minutes.

Light goes green, I speed off, turn into the business district where my office is, park in the back, grab my bags and my food and clock in a minute or two after my start time.

And then the opening guy starts to talk work shit to me before I've even set anything down much less touched my desk. I told him to calm down and wait... but that's a whole other story.

So yeah... it's like the universe doesn't want me to go to work or something. As much as I would love to stay at home and sleep or write or read my books or go to the movies or do whatever I wanted, I have to work. It's bad enough work has been making me grumbly as of late, but the whole constant road obstacles of the damned isn't helping my mood or stress levels.

Yeah. I could do with a lot less stress in my life. *sigh*

And I'll think I'll end it here on that note. Need to hit the sack. Gonna try and leave earlier tomorrow and see if that helps. Probably not, but the universe is gonna have to stop boning me sometime, right?

Now to sleep and possibly have some more strange dreams.

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Dream A Little Dream Of...

To gain your own voice, you have to forget about having it heard.
-Allen Ginsberg, poet

I haven't written much lately. Not since my last post anyway... which I forced myself to stay up until I finished it (took me 'til about 4am). After that, I shut down the laptop, turned off the lights, and... sat in bed in the dark turning over story ideas in my head.

The ideas that were pondered (in no particular order):
  • LEVERAGE fanficiton - a bracelet a friend gave me recently inspired an idea to be added to the story in my head that no one will ever see.
  • CHUCK fanfiction - re-writing a scene to the story in my head that no one will ever see.
  • NaNoWriMo - toying with ideas for the story that I want to (maybe) do this November.
  • Lack of Conflict - I have a scenario in my head of how two people and end up dating, but I don't have any sort of conflict for later in the story. I also can't think of any conflict for my (lack of a better tentative title) Aidan Turner Story. (I always imagine actors or people that I know in my stories which always play out like a movie in my head, and one of the characters I created for this story has "him" in it.) 
  • My Two Unfinished Novels - I really should finish those soon.
  • Kidnapped Story - just little snippets here and there.
  • Writing Contest - due by May 2nd
I dunno. My mind is all out of whack since... well... it's been a while now.

My life since last post has consisted of:
  • cooking this week's meals (which was a mutant version of mac and cheese)
  • laundry (three loads total)
  • watching Orphan Black with Kathy W
  • more room organizing adventures with Kim M
  • reading "Divergent" by Veronica Roth (me and my friend's bookclub choice this month)
  • working
  • plotting out payday (bills to pay, errands to run... pamper myself with a back massage)
  • thinking of less carby, more filling, inexpensive meals to prep for work lunches
  • plotting when I'll be heading back to the gym (probably Sunday night)
While waiting for the final load in the dryer, I could have tried to write something, but instead the media whore in me won out, and I watched the latest "Once Upon A Time". After that, laundry was pretty much done which left no time to write. After I put my clothes away, I headed to Kathy's and fit in one more episode of Orphan Black (we've watched the first two episodes now) before heading to Kim's to work on her room some more.

Working on her room is giving me ideas for my room since she and I have similar situations where we have limited space and have had to move from a 2+ bedroom house to shoving everything into one room (and a storage unit). Right now my room is cluttered, and I feel I need a paid vacation just to spend the time on it I feel it deserves. Also the ideas I have require items that I'm not sure exactly exist for what I want to do. Ideally I'd like a different dresser, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen anytime... not until I get my own place anyway. But I'll get to my room eventually.

I kind of have this idea for her closet (which has been converted to the crafting closet per her request). She bought these little three drawer things that are cool, but the two bookshelves she has in there are different heights and widths so I'm wondering what the cost would be to get one wide shelving unit to replace the two she has in there. I'm going back on Monday, and we're going to go to the store to get little sorters to fit into the drawers so I can put all her crafty bits in one bin. She sews, makes jewelry, knits, etc... so she's got all sorts of things from glues to thread to needles to pins to patterns to various other sorts of things. We've sorted a good chunk of her bins into Renn Faire, Dickens Faire, costuming bits and fabric. There are a couple bins that have been sorted to go to storage as well as to be donated. I feel rather accomplished when I work on her room. Monday I didn't so much, but she claims we accomplished some things so I'll take her word for it.

I guess it's just my mind frakking with me.

I'm behind on some things at work. I was all caught up before we started using this new system, but since the system is still (essentially) in its beta phase with us, I have to use my email and the customer service email to see what new things have come in so I can search for them in the new system and make sure everything is assigned to people and taken care of. On top of that, I have surveys and emails that my manager has assigned me that I have - for the most part - finished, but I still have a handful (compared to what I had before) to see to. At the time I wasn't overwhelmed with my responsibilities, but it's just a matter of priority. You want me to make sure "production" is current and handled, that's what I'm going to concentrate on. Emails are now being handled in the new system, but it's just... if the other mess was filtered out of it, maybe I wouldn't have to go all over the place to make sure shit's handled. Right now I'm looking in two email accounts, two spreadsheets and the CRM system so that my personal spreadsheet that my department references is current and up to date.

And totally random rant: So we had an old production spreadsheet that had hidden cells - hidden meaning the task was completed - leaving the incomplete tasks exposed. When looking through it to find when something was done or if it was even received, people only had viewing rights. So the idea now - since I haven't been told any different - is that my spreadsheet is for my department to reference. Everyone save a couple other people have viewing rights, but I created two tabs - ALL PRODUCTION (no hidden rows showing everything that has been worked on since I was asked to monitor production) and OPEN PRODUCTION (with hidden rows showing all the incomplete tasks). A week or so ago my manager asked me to help her read my spreadsheet (which she owned on Google drive by the way... and that's a whole other story which I won't be into). She asked how she was able to tell what had been completed and what was still being worked on. I had to reign in my snark when I showed her the tabs and what they said. (I also color code thing so everyone on the team has their own color and when they complete a task I've assigned them, not only is there a "date completed" date marked, but it's highlighted with their assigned color. Items not highlighted or have a completed date listed? Not done.)

Reminds me of when I occasionally get my hair straightened. (My hair naturally curly. The red dye job I have in it has grown out considerably, but I'm still essentially Merida from "Brave".) When I straighten my hair, there are people that ask, "Did you straighten your hair?" I've grown accustomed to saying "No"... which usually warrants looks and/or the comment, "Are you messing with me?"

It's just like Forrest Gump says - Stupid is as stupid does.

*headdesk*

I'm currently working on a menu revision for a restaurant that has called to let us know several times that their menu changed, that they sent a menu with the driver, and "WHY ISN'T IT REVISED?" It took almost a month (and me telling the driver MYSELF) to get menus, but when I looked at the menus and what we had, they are totally different, so it's gonna take a while. I took it upon myself to work on it, but as it is, I haven't had a lot of time to work on it since I got the menus Saturday night (and I was off Sunday and Monday). I started on Tuesday, didn't get to any of it today since the rest of production was getting a bit behind, so yeah... I just have NO idea when I'm going to get to finish it.

And it looks like additional copies of the menu are showing up at my desk. WTFrak?!?!? NOW people remember to get me menus? DO NOT MAKE ME BACKHAND YOU!!!

I need some order. I like it when I have order. That's not to say that I'm not spontaneous. I love flying by the seat of my pants and doing whatever at the moment. Or even have a tentative plan of "let's just go here and see what there is to see".

But with work, there is always talk of "prioritizing" (though I feel there's also talk of "this is how we do this" and then forgetting what was said during that conversation and me getting questioned about it...). My work day is pretty much come in, make calls for the lunch rush (it's a little quiet at the time I come in so I have a small amount of time to check email, glance at production, pray to the Work Gods to give me guidance and a good day before it starts to get busy), then after the lunch rush is a mix of next day calls, incoming calls and fitting in a little bit of production before I go to lunch (same assigned time every day), then next days calls if they haven't been done already, an hour of production just for me on Tuesdays and Thursdays after my lunch, dinner rush/calls, then home.

Saturday work nights have been the equivalent of blowing up a pinata filled with chaos dipped in Hell, set on fire and shoved up your ass using nothing but a rusty mace coated in hate Alien Queen acid.

Right now I have some random semblance of a plan at work and having the same shift during the weekdays I'm there helps, but with changes in policy and staff, the proverbial monkey wrench makes it difficult to not necessarily assimilate and adapt but merely slows that process down a bit.

It also makes me want to beat people with a hammer. A REALLY BIG HAMMER!!!

What's that prayer?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, 
The courage to change the things I can, 
And the wisdom to know the difference. 
-Serenity Prayer

...
...
...

Yeah. A REALLY REALLY BIG HAMMER!!! *sigh*

The other night for shits and giggles, I did a studio apartment search, and of course living where I live, everything cost my soul and my first born... plus a deposit. And then there's my cat which usually tacks on another large sum of money that is just mental and totally not necessary.

I think I'd do well with my own space. I just need to find that space and be able to afford it. (Why can't I be independently wealthy? Why can't money grow on trees? Scratch that. I have a black thumb. I'd most likely kill my money tree.)

Ideally I'd like a one bedroom apartment (two so one bedroom can be my office), but I'd settle for a nice little studio. ANYTHING is better than the hovel I'm in now.

Surfing the net just now whilst daydreaming I found some lovely studios where I picked my top five... starting off with my fave of the group...
I mean... just look at the shelf space for BOOKS!!! I would have a place for a desk... and a table to eat at... a couch to sit on... oh the things I could do with this space.

Looks pretty condensed compared to the first, but the kitchen will give me enough space for baking. I can also set up a work space for myself. Also looks like there's room to add bookshelves. Joy!
This place looks pretty spacious... but I could do without the orange. Burgundy would be cool... or just white with some decorative decals of picture/art framings. Overall though not too shabby.
This is cute, too. Love the brick and the enclosed bed space. And the kitchen looks PRETTY!!!

This is a cute little setup. The kitchen area is a bit small but doable.
Right now I have to deal with my car accident settlements. (I HATE the waiting game... especially when neither of the two accidents were my fault. Plus OFF DUTY DEPUTY WHO WITNESSED THE GUY THAT RAN THE RED AND T-BONED ME WHICH TOTALED MY CAR!!! Why is THAT taking so long?) *grumble*

Who said patience is a virtue? Not feeling very virtuous... or patient. First accident was February 2013, second was June 2013. It is now APRIL 2014. I swear to gawd if this goes past a year, I'm gonna choke a bitch.

Breathe, woman, breathe. Woosah!

Okay. Baby steps, girlie. Baby steps.

Summary of goals...
  • stop being fat
  • find my own space
  • write/read more - get published
  • be financially secure
  • be happy
  • tie up loose ends
Sounds like a plan, right? Now to make the plan a reality.

Would also REALLY like to do NERDHQ this year and be a volunteer... though last year screwed me for the time off... *grumble grumble grumble*

(looks at clock)

I meant this post originally for Monday... then that plan got shot to shit so I entertained the notion of moving blog posts to Tuesday and Thursday versus Monday, Wednesday, Friday... but then work got in the way... so I thought I could get this done for Wednesday.

And now it's 1:36am... on Thursday.

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's not tomorrow 'til the sun comes up, but dammit dammit dammit. I'll get back into the swing of things soon... hopefully...

(looks to the universe - doesn't seem to be laughing at me... yet)

I guess I should get to bed now. I did take a nap when I got home earlier since insomnia had me up until 3am-ish last night. It's almost 2am now. I should at least try, right? And maybe a time travel short story idea will pop in my noggin via an inspirational dream that I'll remember when I wake. Yeah?

(fingers crossed)

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae

Sunday, April 13, 2014

What Has Become Of Me?

I went for years not finishing anything. Because, of course, when you finish something you can be judged.
-author Erica Jong

So yeah. I suck. I'm getting old, and my brain is broken.

Now that the self-non-erotic-flagellation is done.

April is here, and here I am with not much to show for it. But the month is still young, so hopefully I'll get more done than I did for March.

My March accomplishments are as follows (in no particular order)...
Didn't manage to get to the last seven story blogs. But meh, March was a bit poopy for me.

I know it's partially because I haven't gotten a lot of quality sleep lately. Credit for that goes to insomnia which has teamed up with the weather to do its bipolar thing and change temperatures rather drastically so my sinuses turn to cement in the cold and give me the WORST MIGRAINES EVER!!! I force myself to work through the migraines - mainly cuz I have to - but then I usually just head home after, collapse on my bed, and just DIE!!! I even raped my face with my saline/netty pot thing - and it didn't do shit!

Then of course there's the Elderly Man in the room next to me. He has been sleeping with his door open, and whenever it's brought up to him to shut it, he apologizes and then closes it... which HELPS since his bed squeaks whenever he moves even a little. His bed also has a vibrating setting for when his body starts to pain him. This however is the least of the noise issues that keep me up because at least it's a steady hum, something constant and never-changing like white noise. But the man also snores. OH GAWD DOES HE!!! With the door open, it's just loud and on days where I'm utterly exhausted and need to sleep... his snoring doesn't help. I think he's gone to a doctor about his sleep habits, and now as one of those sleep mask machines which turns out is like the massaging bed - steady white noise hum - but I'm not sure if he's using it as often as he's supposed to be.

And then there are the dogs.

The entourage of little furry minions she has is annoying at times. It's like the stereotypical woman with a billion cats. Add to that the dogs that she babysits as her side job... and the two the nursey-assistant-person has brought with her new - one likes me while the other is doing the "I'm gonna bark at everything" stance on my existence.

And let's not forget the people.

Landlady's Son is still with us though I'm not sure what his arrangement is just yet. Before I was told that he was trying to find work down here and that his stay would be temporary. He got work -he's in insurance or finance, can't remember which since we don't really talk - but he's still here. His kids come over for a visit, and Landlady used to be good about telling me when extra people were going to be in the house. (It's her family, but the heads up is great.) But they run around, yell down halls, have fights with the dogs.

So picture it if you will... me, laying in bed. Done reading my book or watching my shows (via my laptop since my access to the TV/cable is essentially non-existent), and I lay down, lights out, to pass the frak out. Most of the time I can pass out due to exhaustion or just plain luck, but to the left of me is Landlady's room, and at random times, one of the dogs will start to growl which then turns into a bark which starts a chain reaction that makes me want to punt each and every one of them to high heaven. Or the big one - and by that I mean the mutant Yorkie who is like the size of two or more Yorkies combined... like Yorkie Voltron or something - will attack one of the other dogs (recently she attacked the Grandma Yorkie of the bunch... not cool at all). Landlady has talked about finding her another home, but so far I haven't seen any evidence of that.

Elderly Man stomps his feet back and forth from the bathroom where he flips the lid up clanging the porcelain to porcelain, making a loud BOOM which startles me. He also talks in his sleep a bit. Don't remember some of the stuff he says... pretty sure I don't want to know. When awake, he yells for Landlady... not because he's hurt or anything, but when he thinks "I want to tell her something", he calls to her from his room... and gets louder when no one replies... and all he wants to tell you is that The Daily Show was funny or something. Landlady tries to shush him up, but he apologizes and quickly forgets.

And then you've got the people slamming doors and yelling on the phone or arguing with each other or clattering dishes around, etc.

People always suggest on me using headphones, but I'm paranoid I won't hear my alarm for work. When I remember or feel I need them, I use the earplugs that Jon S gave me and put on my mask and just tune the world out. I only get to do that twice a week, but at least it's something.

When I am awake, I find myself getting annoyed at my housemates antics. Elderly Man doesn't shower in the same bathroom as me but uses everything else... and leaves a mess of mouthwash and other stuff on the sink. Landlady's Son will shave and not clean up his hair trimmings. (This morning I found haircut trimmings in the tub.) I also have a drain cover that catches all the hair - since I have the tendency to shed a bit. The Son will push it aside when it clogs on him or not clean it out after his turn in the shower - since he and I... and his kids... are the only one that use that shower. I mentioned the hair this morning when I was about to take a shower for work, but I cleaned it up myself since I wanted to be done with it and not have to wait.

And total random rant: TOILET PAPER!

Not only do people in this house not know how to refill a roll, but they also have no idea where to look for toilet paper. Right across from the bathroom EVER SINCE I'VE BEEN HERE the extra has been in the hall closet... like TWO STEPS FROM THE BATHROOM. Landlady has told me before that she and Elderly Man got toilet paper, and I could give him a couple bucks for it, that'd be great, and I do. The past couple of times I've run errands, I bought an 8-pack of TP just as backup and put it in the closet... which has apparently turned into a void since every time the roll is empty, someone says we need more, and I point out the closet, and people say "Oh, I didn't know".

WHY NOT LOOK FIRST BEFORE OPENING YOUR DAMN MOUTH???

So here I am refilling and restocking some extra rolls in the bathroom... which then all go to the trash without anyone doing anything to replace them.

The last of the TP was used the other day before I headed out with Kathy W after work to see Ann Brashares at an author event for her new book "Here and Now". I dropped Kathy back at her car, drove to get food and headed to the store for TP. A part of me thought "Landlady got some today, didn't she?" but I didn't trust it. When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom, and I saw a roll in the cubby above the toilet and one on the roll. I looked in the closet - nothing there - so the stuff in the bathroom must be from my Landlady's stock (which of course isn't depleted as fast since she's the only one that uses her bathroom). This morning while getting ready for work, she texts me to ask if I could get some TP today, and I text her back to let her know I got some the night before and put it ALL in the bathroom. She texted back a thanks admitting she didn't look.

(Totally random, but as I write this, dogs are barking, I hear a lot of dog shushing, and Elderly Man has gone to the bathroom several times, stomping each time both ways.)

I really need my own place. (looks up to the heavens) You hear that? I need my own place.
  • a place where I can walk around and not be barked at
  • a place where I'm only cleaning up after myself
  • a place where I can cook and bake at my own leisure
  • a place where I have room in fridge and pantry and cupboards for my things
  • a place my cat can roam about freely
  • a place I can go when I want to be alone and escape and relax
  • a place where I can have friends over
  • a place where I can have a desk and sit at it and write or play games without my back hurting
  • a place for my family to stay if need be when they visit
  • a place where I can books on shelves instead of keeping them in boxes in storage
  • a place where the only snoring I'll hear is coming from my cat
  • a place where I can talk on the phone past 8pm because my cat won't mind
Okay. Done ranting about my desire for my own place.

What else has gone on in my life lately?

(insert Landlady's dogs barking here)

I've been helping my friend Kim M (aka Wifey) with her room. She rents a room in a house and has LOTS of stuff that she really doesn't need anymore. So me and my OCD are helping her purge what she doesn't need/use anymore, and we've had lots of "donate" and "get rid of" piles. (So proud of her.) There are a few things I've inherited from her - pens, small bottles of scented hand sanitizer, candles, a scarf - but most of her room has been sorted. We've been working at least once a week for the past few weeks when we both get out of work. She usually gets home around 4:30pm, and with me and my new schedule letting me escape by 5pm, I'm usually at her place close to 6pm (because traffic sucks donkey balls). We usually go to 11pm at the latest, but by the end of the first day, I found her floor. By the end of the second day, I found more of it. By the third and fourth days, I cleared out the space under her bed (she has one of those beds that's set up high, and you can put a desk underneath. In this case, she made the bottom her bed her closet.) I'm meeting her again on Monday. She'll hopefully be bringing more tubs with her back from her boyfriend's house and hopefully that's all we'll need to store/purse the rest of her crafts/costumes/faire stuff.

(Landlady's dogs won't shut up now.)

The days I help her out - which my OCD and I are glad to do - I skip the gym. The first night I was at her house, there was lots of lifting and moving and sweating and throwing the trash, etc, and as she walked me out, I commented on the gym, and she said, "You already had a workout for the night." And she was right.

Sadly the days I wasn't meeting up with her were the days my sinuses decided to give me the finger, laugh and say, "Oh no... not today." The day after the first day with Kim, I tried to go to the gym. It's a small gym, and I could see it was crowded so I parked and waited and tried to read in my car. The whole insomnia kicked in, and I got tired just sitting there so I opted to take a power nap. I woke up about 15 minutes later thinking "I'm going to the gym". The cement brick behind my eyes said otherwise. The pressure and pain was so bad, I felt nauseous. I went home and went straight to bed.

My sinuses don't do well in extreme, abrupt climate change. Lately it's been cold and then the next day - BOOM! - really dry hot. My nose will either run or spackle up. The pressure between my eyes and behind my head and terrible. Recently it's started focusing on the front and back of the left side of my head. Fun... not.

So with helping Kim and feeling off/on sick with my sinuses, I haven't really gone to the gym in almost a month. The original plan was to go everyday. 

Why? Cuz I'm a cow.

LOL! That brings to mind the Eddie Izzard quote from "Dress To Kill"...

Dear Sir,

My name is Daisy. I am a cow.

I wish to take my own life so please send me three buckets of anthrax, as anthrax is designed to kill cattle, and I want to end it all right now.

PS... I cannot shoot myself as I have no opposable thumbs.

Anyway, where was I?

My back has also been contributing to my gym absence since it occasionally acts up, and all I really want to do is go home and lay down on a heating pad. (Yay for back injuries.)

The lack of sleep as well as the other things I have mentioned are definitely frakking with my energy levels, and I'm sure my stress isn't helping either. I've also been bummed about a few things, but that's just general gloomy behavior, and I won't get into it.

But in the end, my writing has been suffering.

The lack of physical energy has made it difficult to write. In a way it's similar to my insomnia. With my insomnia, I'm all kinds of tired, I'm thinking of nothing, and I just want to pass out... but for some reason I can't. The popular theory is that my mind can't "shut off" which is causing me to stay awake longer than I'd wish, but my mind is a complete blank at the time, then it must be on a subconscious, and how the frak am I supposed to know about that and shut it off?

My "fatigue" leaves me in some physically numb state. My mind is firing on all cylinders wanting to write, to create, to put my ideas down and build a situation, a scene, a story. But when I open the laptop or try to hold a pen, nothing comes. Sure, I have moments of pure exhaustion - lack of sleep, working hard on Kim's room, trips to the gym, hard day at work or just a long day in general - and my mind knows it wants to write but those moments, it just doesn't know how to sort things or where to start or what to write.

But those moments are also few and far between.

I really hate this lack of energy/concentration. It's bullshit, and I hate it.

In another writing-related dilemma...

A few months ago, I had an idea for a scene which has been turning into something else. I keep thinking "maybe I should just write notes, outline, and prep this idea for NaNoWriMo this year"... but then the desire to write a scene, etc, hits me, and I get all frustrated. Before my first time doing NaNo, I was told by a fellow writer that I can outline, research, take notes... but I can't write a thing until midnight of November 1st. In all honesty, I dabbled a bit with one scene, but I wasn't really sure where to go with it so I didn't write anymore, but I don't know. How do you stop yourself from actually writing something you want to potentially do for NaNoWriMo?

Also looking over my story blogs, some of them just hit me with ideas, and I have ideas for them and that excite me a little.

And then there are others that I have no idea what to do or where to take them.

I'm also thinking about removing the tabs to my other story blogs and just making this blog a blog. I always tinker with that idea. I mean... I think a few of my friends read them, and a couple have actually posted on here. Perhaps I will. Maybe I'll just leave this as a blog, but the intent was to make this blog about a writing blog, but I guess it's just turning into a blog about a girl who's a writer. If I had a following, I could put the idea to a vote, but since I think it's really only me... I dunno. I'll just mull it over some more.

I want to write. I want to write ALL THE TIME. The WANT is there... I just don't seem to have the energy to do anything when I actually DO have the time.

And now to add to how crappy I've been feeling, I'm currently going through powerloss Wednesday night which explains why my back is extra achey and why I feel nauseous.

Joy of frakkin joys!

It's not bad enough that my energy levels seem to be depleting. Maybe I've been infected with apathy that is somehow manifesting into lethargy which is best friends with insomnia...

Oh dear. I'm fucked!

(and more barking and my Lanlady yelling back at them)

Okay, okay. I have been pushing myself to finish this post and get to bed. I'm still in sullen mood and my back hurts... yeah, I think it is SO time to go to sleep (or at least try). And who knows... perhaps I will find a much better world when I wake.

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae