The mind of a twisted daydreamer

Yesterday I got the gut feeling that I needed to call my mom. No one answered and I gave up without leaving a message - this is normal with my family. We leave messages only if it is an emergency, a birthday, and even then we might not.

My mom called back a couple hours later to tell me Chloe was at the vet and it didn't look good. She called me again later in the evening to tell me that they had decided to let her go, there was just too much going wrong and she was in too much pain.

Twelve years ago I got two kittens at 2.2 weeks old and bottle fed them. It was a rewarding and difficult experience, but so worth it. The black female kitten was named Chloe (for the song "Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns" by Mother Love Bone), and her gray brother was named James (for the song "Not Now James, We're Busy" by Pop Will Eat Itself).

James passed away a year and a half ago of congestive heart failure. About a year before that Chloe had been diagnosed with sinus cancer, and was given a couple of weeks to months to live - obviously she didn't agree, 'cause she lasted two and half years after the diagnosis and surgery.

Chloe was the first kitty to teach me about unconditional love, what it felt like to be gifted with it and to really give it. It was a bittersweet lesson for my 23 year old self, to realize the love I could have, maybe should have, understood was something a small black kitten had to teach me, rather than the people around me.

I used to get Chloe and James those kitty fishing poles, with the elastic strings and a fluffy critter on the end. Every time I got a new one, at some point Chloe would chew through the elastic and take off with the fluffy critter. Sometimes she would give it a bath in her water bowl, but one of her favorite things to do was put it in my mom's purse when she wasn't looking. My mother would find the toy later, usually while she was about to pay for groceries. Chloe had her way of showing her love.

So Chloe, my love, I will miss you so much. I thank you for your love, for taking care of my great-aunt through numerous surgery recoveries, for staying with my mom while my aunt was in surgery, for being brave and beautiful. You will always be in heart, Chloe-bug, I hope we will meet again.

It's been a long time since I last wrote and a lot has changed.

One thing that hasn't changed is that I still continue to go to the dojo. Sword continues to be something I love, though I have not belt tested yet. Aikido continues to be a challenge. I often feel as though I am made of thumbs and left feet, but my stamina and balance have improved, so it seems to be helping, even in small ways. I love the challenges both give me, the lessons they teach, not only for myself, but for whoever I work with. I never believed I could enjoy a physical activity, but I've found something that works for me, that speaks to me.
( health and diet )

So today's headache is brought to me by Tension - meaning frustration and just stuff.

My frustration is stemmed by the people questioning me. Questioning my commitment to Sparkle Motion™. Sparkle Motion™ could be anything in life, but it makes it more colorful to put that in the place of X. My commitment to anything is a very personal thing. I failed at being a Christian, because I didn't want to be a hypocrite (you can ponder that one for a bit). I failed at dating, 'cause I didn't want to string someone along. I failed at x, y, or z, because people questioned my motives, my choices, my commitment too goddamned much. And now I realize, fuck 'em. Let people question what I'm doing. Not my problem, because those questions aren't mine. I know what I'm doing, however well or badly I'm doing at it. It's my choice to do it, and whether not I become the best Sparkle Motion™ dancer is between me, myself, and I.

See, it's one of those things. I'm not hurting anyone else by my choice of this commitment, it's completely mine. Sparkle Motion™ right now is sword. Yes, I realize I don't practice enough. I've never practiced enough at anything, but I'm trying. I'm giving it a chance. I'm not the best at physical things, I know this and realize that anything I choose to do is an uphill battle, but it's my fucking battle. No one else is going to suffer, if I suck at it. No one else is going to be sitting there with a bokken, while everyone else has graduated to steel. No one else is feeling like an idiot when I fuck something up. And it's glorious.

I used to play piano, and gods it was a struggle. I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and I'm pretty much tone deaf. I can read music, but I'm not so hot at timing, and yet, I still try. Yeah, right now I haven't played in awhile, mostly because anytime I have tried to play, E immediately wants to jam together. I appreciate his fervor and interest, but honestly, despite years of trying, I still suck. I play for enjoyment, because I can't play in a band or even really do well enough to do a recital. It takes time, energy, and desire for me to get a piece right and when I do, the pleasure is mine. If others want to listen, awesome, but my father made me shy about it, because every time I hit a sour note, he made sure to tell me. It got to a point that I'd tell him that he could play the goddamned thing, if he thought he could do better. That shut him right up.

Knitting, on the other hand, I can actually do better than almost anything else I've tried my hand at. For some reason pointy sticks and lengths of yarn can become something beautiful and useful. My own attempts at creating things have ranged from decent to gods awful. I love trying to make toys, but my attempts are hideous at best. I have a fuzzy green Cthulhu peanut-shaped thing with a red fez on - he's hideous, but I love him, because I made him. With time I might be able to create beautiful things, but at the moment, I still flounder.

Another thing I'm passably good at is picking out flavors. I attempt to cook, and sometimes it comes out awesome. Other times the idea was good, but the execution belongs in the gallows. I'm not so hot at the cooking part, which is why I'll point E in a direction and say, "Please, try this!" When I ask, usually the idea comes out pretty darned good, but when I do it, there is a 50/50 chance that it may end up awful.

So yeah, I'm not so hot at doing stuff. I try and somethings I'll continue blundering through until either a light bulb finally goes off over my head, or I decide that it is purely for my own enjoyment. Sometimes I quit, because well, it wasn't really my thing to begin with, and I realize that there is nothing wrong with that.

What I have gotten out of going to the dojo that is useful is amazing. Little things like opening jars for myself, being able to avoid tripping over things, being able to get off the couch without having to use my arms, actually being able to do a push up, and slowly upping my catching reflexes. These things are good, and things I notice. Do they really help others? Maybe in little ways, mostly time saving. But if this is the trade off I get for feeling like a three year old with a really large stick, then maybe the way I'm doing things isn't so horrible. I don't know if I'll ever be hardcore or a black belt, but that wasn't the goal. My goal has been to learn balance, to get in better shape, and finally defend myself, if I need to. I'd much rather warn someone off, than actually whack them with a broom, but if the situation presents itself, I know that I can at least get a good one in, before I run like a little girl and find someone bigger to help me.

Yesterday was eventful and crappy. E had taken the day off so we could finally go and get our CA driver's licenses and I needed a blood draw after a 12 hour fast. Woke up in a fair bit of pain that stayed pretty constant through out the day. On a normal day, I would have told E that I needed to rest, but I wasn't going to waste that fast for being in pain. Went to the suggested lab, got all my information down, and had a very nice woman do a very fast, painless draw. I'm in love. It could also be because I drank a crazy amount of water, so my veins were easy to find.

After that we went out for breakfast and then realized we should get the check book before going to the dmv, ran back to the house so I could deposit the leftovers in the fridge and get said checks. Went back to the dmv, filled out our paper work and waited to be called up to start the process. It was a much quicker visit than the vehicle registration (cheaper too).

While waiting in line, an elderly man says to the woman in front of him, "Can you spell hard water with just three letters?" The woman looks baffled and asks me what he means (couldn't identify her accent - maybe russian?). The man chuckles and say, "Hard water with just three letters, I-C-E! Ice is definitely hard water!" The woman's eyes widen and she starts to giggle and thanks the man for making her day.

E gets his temp license while I'm waiting in line, and then I get handed my piece of paper that stands in for the license that will be mailed to me in 4-6 weeks (man, were we spoiled on the east coast, go into the dmv and get your license within an hour of getting your picture taken, totally miss that). But we are now officially inmates of the insane asylum that is called California. So bloody weird, I tell you.

Hopefully I'll know sometime in the next couple days where my thyroid numbers are at and how my blood sugar is. Then the doctor will hopefully adjust my meds and I can start feeling like a normal, not constantly moody, human. I'm really getting sick of the Jeckyll and Hyde act going on in my head. The idea of combustible lemons should not be embraced. ;)

So the past week has been spectacular on the craptastic. That being said, I want to focus on the awesome.

Sunday was Stitches West. Went with Sue and had a blast. There was a ton of yarn and proto-yarn fondling. Sue got away with a fantastic stash, while I kept my booty at four skeins, one of which yelled at me to take it home at the beginning of the event, and left with me at the end (oh lord, you strange teal/black skein of kitten yarn).

I should also add that there was some fantastic food involved that day (starting a day with mimosas is always good), and then excellent hang out.

We got a new dishwasher this week. Our maintenance guy is awesome. Very willing to answer questions, even while working. He's very thorough and pretty damned prompt. He's the type that will give you an estimated time and if he can't make it or doesn't have a specific part, he'll call and let you know the new estimated time. I'm impressed, but then again, the maintenance for this place should be spectacular for the price of rent (no, you really don't want to know).

This weekend looks rather busy, starting tomorrow night - when our friend Tony comes into the area for an interview, then Friday is the DMV (this time I'm bringing a book, knitting, and a picnic basket, because I have never in all my days seen a DMV so filled with people). Saturday morning we're going to the North Bay to check out the dojo that one of E's co-workers studies at. I think the rest of the weekend is free, but Saturday is going to be an early morning (into early afternoon), so that day might be shot a bit. Sunday is open at the moment, but it might be a flop and stare into space day.

Just getting one gripe out - Jesus, why did you give me crazy hormones? I feel like a walking ball of grump right now and I feel as though the people around me should have force fields or some shit to keep the emo off them. I hope this goes away a bit before tomorrow, or I just may be a major downer.

So my parents called this morning. One of the two cats I bottle fed and took care of from 2.2 weeks old (Chloe) is dying of cancer. They found a mass in her sinuses and were unable to get all of it because it had already started to spread. She has weeks or months, because you know what an exact science cancer is.

Yeah, it's just a cat. But she was my cat, even though I left her with my family, because I knew that was the best thing to do for her, when I decided to move. I probably won't ever get to see her again, hear her purr, or pet her pretty black fur.

But she's home, she's where she is most comfortable. She's not in horrible pain now, because she can breathe. They'll let me know when the time comes.

Goddamn, why does it have to hurt so much?

Part of growing up (no matter what age you are) is realizing that if someone is fucking up their lives and refuse to see it, and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it. I hate doing that, but when it comes down to whether I'm hurting myself emotionally for someone that couldn't give a fuck less about their own lives or the damage their doing to themselves, I'm only hurting me - not them. They'll never recognize that someone is giving a shit and trying actively to help, because they are so far down the spiral that all they can see is themselves.

People that care are just obstacles, at that point, in their continued destruction of themselves. They will trample, say hurtful things, and ignore the person that would give so much of themselves to help them. I'm sick of being trampled, ignored, or getting a verbal lashing when I've tried to help someone. I'm even more sick of the worry or time I've invested in people that couldn't give a fuck less. I wasted my own time and it's just burnt me enough that I don't want to deal with it anymore. And it's my own sanity at risk, and frankly someone else's destruction of themselves is not worth my sanity.

There are a lot of things I see wrong with a few people that just keep bashing their heads into the same damned concrete wall. Then they turn to the people around them and wonder aloud at the fucking headache they have, that they can't seem to understand where it came from. Pointing out that they've been bashing their head into a concrete wall that they refuse to see, but go back to time and time again, is like trying to revive roadkill that's bloated and crawling with maggots.

This also goes with negativity. Some people honestly thrive off of it, which is completely beyond me. It becomes an emotional drag when people can only complain about how their ex completely fucked up their lives and what a lousy, horrible person that man/woman is. Time to move forward. I hear it too often, and now I realize how E felt hearing about my ex-roommate. Lesson learned, if it bothers me to hear someone else bitch, then I should put my money where my mouth is and stop doing it myself. Can't lead by example, but I can sure as hell try to change the things in myself that drive me absolutely batshit in someone else.

So yeah, I've gotten to the point that I can't give a fuck about people that refuse to help themselves. I can't coddle or attempt to help someone that just doesn't give a fuck about themselves. I don't want relationships with them, and I'll probably distance myself friendship-wise with them. I'll stick around, but for the most part they will be given a label in my head that says, "How not to live." I won't thank them for the stupidity, but I guess I can thank them for the object lesson - because it means that I don't have to live it.

I'd write some kind of disclaimer here, about feelings of other people and shit, but I feel as though that would be pointing fingers. This is really just a post to recognize my own intolerance to bullshit. I want to live a life that is as close to free of bullshit and drama as I can get. If that means taking a step back and going, I don't want this, I see nothing wrong with that. I'm taking care of me for once, and I think that's the best thing I can do. Maybe it will make me a better person, maybe it won't. But it will mean less stress, less hamster wheel of doom, and more content and happiness in my daily life. It will mean no more hours spent worrying about someone that I can't do a fucking thing for, and those are precious hours of my life that I can spend doing things that add to my life, rather than subtracting from my sanity. Maybe I'm emotionally evolving, or maybe there is a part of my mind that has just finally grown up.

Amended: One thing I remember reading that made an impression on my life and is currently resurfacing is about friendship. Someone who takes your time and never gives back, isn't truly a friend. A person that shares your time is a friend, but the person that gives their time is to be cherished. I like getting back at least the sharing, but the giving usually results in a wonderful friendship that time and distance can't erase. I'm glad I've been able to experience both the sharing and giving, but I'm too tired to have people only take and never return at this point in my life.

The actual quote: "There are many who would take my time. I shun them. There are some who share my time. I am entertained by them. There are precious few who contribute to my time. I cherish them."

Amended again: I realize I have no to blame but myself for my current feelings. The people that disappoint me did not go out of their way to disappoint me. They don't even know they disappointed me, probably never will. I tend to forget and try to play the fairness game, but life isn't fair and people are rarely fair. I guess I just have to watch out for myself and damn the consequences otherwise. After all, when it comes down to it, I'm only responsible for me.

Or what I'm calling the current state of things.

On Aug. 19th I'll be making my way out to California for a visit - and potential apartment hunting. E will be out there for a couple days before that and I'll be joining him for the weekend. I'm hoping that by the time we're on the flight back we'll have a better idea whether we'll be moving to California this fall.

I'm excited, terrified, and nervous. I'm really glad that I'm able to go out to visit before the final decision is made - it would have been really strange to move to a place that I had only been once - 6 years ago. I know the weather is nice, and E tells me the area is beautiful. We'll have friends nearby and be closer to the ocean than we currently are. California actually has some lakes that you can actually swim in, which PA really doesn't have. It will take time to get used to earthquakes, the lack of thunderstorms, and I'm sure other things, but in the long run, it would be a most excellent adventure.

I'm refusing to get nervous about moving until we really know that it is happening - hence why it is possible impending DOOM. We'll see how things go and hope for the best.

I've been super lucky to have a couple of super supportive friends that are making the hamster wheel of stress a little less stressful and a bit more fun.

I'm going to screen comments, so people can comment freely. <3