Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: March 2005

Thursday, March 31, 2005

I'm feeling weird and I probably won't be able to articulate this. Had sociology class today and the chapter we're on is social stratification, how some people are privileged and some are not. I'm the only white person in the class and I feel that I'm being judged on that basis. And what makes it especially ironic is that I've spent my adult life living in the lower socio-economic strata, minimized and treated with less than respect at work. Yeah, my brother and my parents live in nice houses and stuff, but for many years I was on my own with no degree and no way to get a leg up. I dunno, now I sound like I'm whining. I guess I'm frustrated. But, first of all, I shouldn't take it personally, and secondly, I don't have anything to prove or explain to anyone.

I'm so grateful to be spared the media circus surrounding the Schiavo case. Seven years in a vegetative state. Some aspects of medical advancement are just wrong. Well, many aspects. And why do things get blown up like this? This was a private, family matter. It's like the media gets a hold of things in its teeth like a rat terrier and then the public takes it upon itself to become inflamed. Keeps our minds off the overseas meddlings. Eh, what do I know.

I'm totally gonna see Sin City this weekend. Clive Owen is a hunka-hunka-burnin' luv, and there's a bunch of sexy chicks in there too. What's not to like?

I also want to see Beauty Shop. I need something sweet and harmless, and I really like Queen Latifa.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It's not there. The document I began yesterday is not there. That's bad. Bad.

Come over here, little goth punk dude, and make everything all better.

One thing I've noticed about blogger is that it's glitchy depending upon where I access it.

Anyway, I'm at the community college lab now and I can't find that damn paper I started yesterday. There's one guy who was in here yesterday and he's here again today, a little goth punk dude. Fucking cute as the dickens. Facial piercings, black clothes. Come to mama! Wonder what he'd think if he knew I was typing this about him right now.

Man, no one calls me for days and now that I'm sitting in the computer lab where phones are verboten, I get two calls in a row. One of them was from the rep of the pet adoption agency, and I told her that I'd like to adopt Newman, Peep and Missy, and asked her if she could abstain from phoning my apartment management since technically I'm not supposed to keep them and I'm going to be moving soon anyway. She agreed, yayy. She also said she'd see about cutting me a break in the adoption fees, although I would pay adoption fees of course.

Otherwise, not much going on. Was in a depressed mood yesterday, which I no likey. Think it's 'cause I haven't been good at taking my nighttime dose of Welbutrin. Would love to go home and paint but I've got homework. Something I realized that's irritating, the document I was working on is on the network at the *other* computer lab. It's not far from here, but pffffth. I do like not having internet at home, though; I feel more energetic. Maybe I can even gear up to tackle the mess in my apartment!

Somebody asked me recently what got me started shampooing with Nature's Plus Natural Beauty Cleansing Bar. What can I say? I initially bought it for my vagina, and that's what I tell them. Nyuk nyuk.

Aiight, better trek to the other lab and grab a burger on the way.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Holy shit, why am I so tired? I'm 'bout to pass out. I hate when all I can think about is laying down for a nap. I would have liked to cuddle more with the kitties today. Wah wah wah. Got a paper to write and I can't do it. Wah some more.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Using WordPad right now and I'll be glad when I get a copy of Werrrrd installed on this thing. I keep staring at the little pie chart of all the free disk space I now have. It's intoxicating. Still have to remember that I've got an old computer though. Yesterday I installed The Sims2, which requires a minimum processing speed of 800 MHz and mine's 400, oops. Didn't run for shit and I promptly uninstalled it. I prolly don't need the distraction anyway. I have a somewhat addictive personality and I could waste my life away in front of computer games as I've done in the past. Got into Hexen and then DukeNuke'Em, and the first Sims. I used to love first-person shoot-'em-ups. With the Sims I finally gave up because it was too hard, too much like real life. I couldn't get them to earn enough money and keep their comfort levels high enough. Finally, this one Sim I made, I had him in his little house and took away his door and his toilet. Then I put the game on fast-forward and watched him wet himself and finally expire. My brother said, "That's just wrong."

The thing about video games is, it's not a *constructive* hobby. You don't have anything to show for the time you spent. I dunno. I mean, even with t.v., I can knit while I'm watching, y'know? (And honestly, I've accomplished far less knitting since I gave up television.)

Yesterday was my stuck pig day. Whoa, I'm surprised I'm still upright. Sure don't want to go anywhere today. :-(

Oh, I was looking at eyeglass frames the other day, and I saw some frames that looked like ones I'd worn in junior high. Big, plastic, ugly things. The salesperson informed me that they're back. Oh holy shit. Well, I didn't wear bell-bottoms the second time around, and I'm not wearing these either. Lordy.

I did wear bell-bottoms in the 70's. I had a pair of cordory hip-hugging bell-bottoms, and I remember how the hems flapped around my ankes when I walked. I also remember wearing a pair of white, knee-high go-go boots that I wore with miniskirts. I was all that and a bag of chips.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Oh holy shit. I bought a new hard drive, 160 gigs for about forty bucks after rebate, which is pretty sweet. Installing it was nightmarish. Not the physical part, which I figured out without too much trouble, considering I'd never done it before (cut my finger pretty bad though). Getting the fucking thing to recognize this and that and to boot up properly, *that* was the problem. Took all day but I finally did it, but don't ask me how. It was like, close my eyes and point the mouse. I ain't asking no questions. Still have things to iron out, but at least the motherfucker's working. In all truth, I have no business dicking around with the inner workings of a PC, especially one where there's no help desk.

Had Depeche Mode's "Master and Servant" in my head all day, seeing as the two hard drives have a "master/slave" relationship.

4:40 pm

Well, most of today's gone toward messing around with this PC. I think it's "fixed." Reinstalled Windows XP, full install and not an upgrade, overwriting a bunch of stuff (but not my personal files). Had to reinstall some software I use. Lost Werrrrd, but I think my bro has the disks for that ... don't really need anything else from Office. Performance is much better, definitely. Lengthened the life of this PC; I won't have to get a new one for some time yet. My old hard drive is just sitting there idle, I think. Don't really need it anymore.

Last night I finally made some damn brownies and ate them. That oughtta take care of my craving. They *were* good, admittedly. Next time I'll use a bit less sugar, but hopefully I won't crave any more of those fat pills for another decade.

I'd met a lady briefly at the vet when I picked up Missy after her spay. The lady was in the waiting room with her dog, who I petted while she and I chatted a bit. When Missy was brought out, the lady exclaimed how beautiful she is and all that. Missy is very unusual, a siamese with calico patterning and gorgeous blue eyes. The lady said her daughter was looking for a pet, so I gave her my name and number. Then afterward I thought the better of it. After all, I didn't know her at all, and her poor dog stank--I didn't want to put my hands near my face until after I'd had a chance to wash. Furthermore, she said she has four cats because her daughter keeps acquiring them and later giving them to her. She called today inquiring about Missy, and I hemmed and hawed and told her that I'd decided to keep her. Which I kinda have. Missy used to get on my nerves but lately she hasn't been so pushy and there's a quirky sweetness in her nature.

Found a game for the kitties: rolling and bouncing a rubber ball in the bathtub. When it rolls around those curves it's like those skateboarders in those cement pits, you know what I mean? Anyway, they play soccer. It's great. Funny how much they love the bathtub but throw a hissy fit if I bathe them.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Have to quickly guzzle my coffee and head to the post office before they close at noon to mail off a dolly I sold. Had an awful dream this morning about considering buying a fixer-upper house for cheap (as if), whose back yard abutted Shay's. Her daughter saw me and started chatting but Shay was a real ho and dragged her daughter away while casting me shitty looks. It didn't happen, it didn't happen, it was just a dream...

Friday, March 25, 2005

Peggy's so damn smart. She suggested I buy another hard drive and store application files on one and data files on another. Awesome idea. My MP3's and pictures take up a buttload of space. I wonder how much another hard drive costs nowadays. Anything to keep this sucker running for a bit longer. She also suggested that I transfer everything to the new hard drive temporarily and then format the old one. Would get rid whatever extra shit is lurking on there.

One criticism of the movie Downfall is that it "humanized" Hitler. Well, he was a human, after all, albeit one who possessed a brand of evil whose breadth can't be described in everyday language. The Salon reviewer said something like he found himself feeling sorry for Hitler. I didn't. The character went on at great length about how he excised from himself the feeling of compassion, that it was an emotion for the weak. How can anyone, therefore, feel any compassion for him? I take it back, he wasn't a human, even though he was a homo sapien. Compassion makes one human. I did, however, feel sorry for his field generals who were fighting for a leader who was clearly insane and a cause they knew was dead in the water. Then I snapped out of it and realized, well, you wouldn't want the Nazis to win the war, now would you? Can you envision what the world would be like if they had won? It's beyond the limits of my imagination.

Just a quickie note. I haven't handled that camera much yet, but let me say that it is SCHWEET! :-) No regrets there, baby, I'll just have to start painting like a motherfucker. Taco Hell beckons so I'll take off for now.

Today's the day the camera gets here! Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!

There's a parrot someone keeps on a balcony across the street who makes wolf whistles. It's pretty funny. I love parrots, especially African greys, but I don't agree with keeping birds as pets. They should fly free. And parrots are very intelligent, intelligent as a four-year-old, and they're very very sociable. They need lots of interaction and can't be kept in a corner all the time. If neglected, they actually start losing their minds and plucking all their feathers out.

On the subject of companion animals, I personally don't believe that we need any others besides dogs and cats, and only because they've been domesticated for thousands of years. Otherwise, animals should be left alone, in my opinion. Don't like "exotics." Even fish, I don't like the thought of confining to aquariums. I used to be an enthusiastic aquarist and I know that some fish, like cichlids, are extremely intelligent, smarter than some land animals. They understand their situation. Furthermore, it's unlikely that in captivity they'd receive the space they really need. The only fish I keep anymore are betta splendens, in a divided ten-gallon tank so that each gets approximately three gallons to himself. They're active and seem very happy.

Years ago I went to the San Diego Zoo and visited the gorilla enclosure. While the gorillas have been given a nice setup, a far cry from the horrible cages of yesteryear, they're still in captivity and they know it. In the faces of the older ones is a chiseled and stony resignation. There was a little baby gorilla there, who was approaching the glass, clowning around and playing. The mother nearby was wary and protective, not interested in interacting with the human crowd, and it was clear that she sat there only to monitor her baby. I caught her eye and waved at her, and she gave me a long look of utter contempt. I'll never forget that.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Just came back from a little run around the 'hood. It went pretty well, considering that I'd forgotten my water bottle which really cuts down on endurance. I actually stopped in front of a house where a young guy was hosing down his truck and asked him for a drink of water. He dropped the hose and started for the house, and I was like, "No, no! From the hose!" Clear, sweet, clean, cold, blessed water. Joe the hot UPS guy passed me a couple of times in his truck and I waved at him. I didn't stop to chat though, because my legs were all bristly. Anyway, I didn't wheeze or anything. When I got back the kitties sniffed my sweat curiously and inspected the bottoms of my shoes. And now I must bathe.

I've switched the interface to "classic" Windows [*snort*] rather than XP and it seems to make things run faster, but it doesn't affect the tiny amount of disk space I have left.

God am I hot for Joe. I want him to put his hands all over me. Maybe I should make the shower cold.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Some chump calls at least once a day and hangs up.

Tonight I saw Downfall and I bestow upon it my highest praise: it was a fucking good movie. Compelling viewing, brilliantly acted. It was long but never once did I check the time, and I'll be thinking about it for several days to come. One thing I don't understand is, why did the Nazi soldiers start killing the civilian citizens of Berlin? And I'd also like to know what happened to that little blond boy who held Frau Junge's hand at the end.

I enjoyed hearing the German language for a couple of hours. To me, it sounds like home. I don't understand it when people say it's an unattractive language. Sure, it ain't French, but it's not as guttural as Dutch, either. When I was a kid, I was more German than American. Of course I became Americanized as I got older, as I wanted beyond anything to "fit in." Lately, though, I don't feel very American, to tell you the truth, and I crave going elsewhere. Moving to Germany wouldn't be the answer, of course, because I can't recapture a golden, hazy place that likely never existed. But still. Sometimes I wonder where my happiness lies, and probably the happiest I've been in my life was when we lived in Germany when I was six to nine years old, especially visiting my Oma in Bavaria. I miss her house, which has long since been sold.

Looks like my camera will be here Friday! Woo! Come to mama!

Crap, crap, crap. Once again a disk is messed up and can't be read so I can't transfer an earlier post. No biggie I guess, I was just bitching about how much I hate Windows XP, which I had to install for the camera. Beeyotch.

Otherwise, not much going on.

Dear Coca-Cola: Please replace the high-fructose corn syrup with cane sugar. Your sales will increase. Love, Newpeep.

I am SUCH a geek! I totally dig on the adrenaline rush I get when sniping an auction. What da dillio? Is it pleasure knowing that I snatched the prize out of someone else's hands at the last second? Anyway.

Sniff, sniff. Boo hoo. Maybe I'll try calling Microsoft and see if they can help me.

I miss Lester. He was the department computer dude and his cube was right next to mine. We got to be friend and he hooked me up on more than one occasion, without having to go through the channels.

Peep's pretty smart. She's learned that when she and I play, to keep her claws sheathed and her teeth off me.

Weirded-out dreams again. Lessee, I went back to that dreaded place to work, where my SIL is now, and I was still a secretary. I saw D. hovering in the background but we didn't interact. Instead, there were a couple of younger girls who were telling me how the place had changed and filling me in on who was still there and who had left. Then my high school best friend showed up, she worked there. She was hanging around the same crowd as me but she and I didn't speak to each other. Gawd. Oh, and in another part, Eduard was at my front door to drive me somewhere. Ugh.

Am I the only one who dreams about being on the toilet but exposed so others can see? I hate those, they're worse than the naked in public dreams, which I haven't had in years, by the way.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

"Upgraded" to Windows XP and I'm not pleased. My computer is sluggish as hell and per usual Microsoft added a bunch of shit I don't want or need; for example, I told it three times to uninstall MSN Messenger and it won't do it, even though it says it did. I hate the way Microsoft treats us all like a bunch of ignorant serfs who don't know what's good for them.

And since I don't have internet access at home and XP is geared towards the internet, that presents problems. I've got all the firewall stuff taken down and now I'm getting messages all the time that I'm "at risk" and there doesn't seem to be a way to turn off that stupid balloon. Plus, apparently there are some compatibility problems between XP and Office 2000, to which I lost the disks in the divorce. It keeps trying to run the install feature. My Norton Utilities, which I've used in the past to override Windows tics, doesn't work with this version. This blows. And what's this Moviemaker shit? I ain't makin' no gottdamn movies, and I can't get rid of the program. That fucking camera better be worth it; that is, if I have enough space on my hard drive to use it. I am one disgruntled motherfucker.

Maybe my brother can help. He had an old computer like mine running XP; I'll have to ask him how he did it. There's so many years' worth of leftover crap from countless operations, I'd like to just start clean and install from scratch. We'll see.

Obituary

New Peep, acclaimed playwright, novelist, painter, sculptor and actress, whose contributions influenced generations, has died peacefully in her sleep in her loft apartment in Manhattan. She was 105.

Ms. Peep began her adulthood unassumingly enough in a career as a secretary and didn’t undertake her calling until her 40’s. At that point, she soared. With unstoppable energy, she undertook one project after another, holding herself to her highest expectations. She won many awards and the respect of millions the world over, and her impact in creative circles will surely be felt for many years to come.

Ms. Peep is survived by Matthew, her faithful husband of sixty-five years, and her beloved pets, on whom she doted as if they were her flesh-and-blood children. She will be sorely missed.

-------------------

How macabre, writing your own obituary. Gruesome.

Ordered a new camera, a Canon Powershot G6. Got it for a good price, but still, I'm going to have to sell dollies with a vengeance to justify the cost. In addition, I have to upgrade my home computer to XP (I'm running 98) and I'm not even sure my dinosaur meets the system requirements for that. Crappo schmappo. :-\

Dropped Missy off at the vet's this morning for her spay. Without her siblings, she was scared, poor little sweetie. Awaiting a call with a progress report.

Have to write my own obituary for sociology. It'll be pretty short, at a guess.

11:40 a.m.

Fuck, another school shooting. When I was in high school, Julie Brown released a novelty song with lyrics that ran, "Everybody run, the Homecoming Queen's got a gun," and it was hilarious then. Not now.

12:00 p.m.

The vet's office called and Missy did well during her spay, so I can go get her this afternoon.

Oh, yesterday I saw the Star Wars trailer and I admit, it looks compelling. Bah, I'll eat my words and see the fucking movie. See? I'm not exempt from media manipulation.

Mulling things over this morning, things probably best left alone. But Shay pisses me the hell off. I mean, I was her friend, I was there for her when she had a lump in her breast and she was scared, I played with her kid and her pets, we yakked about some deep stuff, confided in each other, and I gave her expensive things like an alpaca wool scarf that I knitted for her and a Bodum Santos electric coffeemaker. And then she dumps me cold like that, because "Eduard is the coolest person I have ever met." Well lemme tell ya something, missy: Eduard ain't cool. He carefully cultivates a cool persona by pretending to disdain mainstream culture and saying things like "coin" instead of "money," but he ain't cool and deep inside he knows that. One day you'll find out too.

[I mean, I was reading The DaVinci Code because I happened to have a copy and I wanted something light to read. I found the book entertaining, although granted, not worth the hype or a movie, but still. Eduard made great pains to say he wouldn't be caught dead reading that book, blah blah blah. And when I talked about aspects of the book I enjoyed, particularly the discussions about the divine feminine, he scoffed, "that's bullshit." Why piss on someone's parade? Huh?]

I wonder if it has something to do with the drinkers' culture. Shay's been a bartender for a long time and Eduard has also worked bartending and waitstaff jobs (which is how they met), not to mention that he drinks like a sonofabitch. But there's something about drinking and drinkers that kind of forms a club or something. WHATever. Not a club I would want to join, thankyouverymuch.

Something else about Shay, she broke up with this one dude but she still accepts expensive presents from him. What the hell is that?

Anyway none of this is my concern anymore and I'm better off out of it.

Monday, March 21, 2005

WTF? We're skipping the chapter on sexuality in sociology class. Hmph. Can't handle it guess.

I have to decide on my priorities. My move is imminent (if it works out at all) and I've estimated I'll need about two grand for that. I have to pay the pet deposit on this place, which I never did, I'd have to pay the security deposit and rent on the new place, and I'd have to pay for movers too because I'm too old (and have too much crap) to move my own ass. I found that the movers are very economical because even if I rented a truck myself, I wouldn't come out far ahead financially.

So there's that, but how am I going to scrape together some money? I need a camera. So should I buy a camera first? Ugh, the timing.

Sorry that all I've been talking about these past several days is money.

My eBay dollies aren't doing that great. My dolly buddy says that people are strapped because it's tax time, etc., but some dolls earn in excess of $400, so the money's out there. I guess I just have to figure out what people want and deliver it, Dynasty divas or not.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Newman's on my lap. He's been clingy all evening, so I brushed him with a soft brush until he got all woozy. Now he's even more byoo-ful. Normally he doesn't stay with me this long. I've even tried to shoo him away but he won't go.

He was so funny when he was a kitten; he was really like my little boy. Once he jumped down from the couch, which was too high for him at the time, and he tweaked his front paw. He came up to me, held his paw aloft and said, plaintively "meow," so I picked him up and cooed all over him.

Once in bed, he came up to me and, with his claws sheathed, began to explore my face. With a friendly, interested expression, he gently, carefully and thoroughly felt my eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks. When he got to the ears, he decided that the metal protuberances needed to go so he started to gnaw on them. So precious.

One thing that bugs me about the cats is that when I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee, that makes them think it's time to wake up and they proceed to tear-ass around the place.

I haven't begun my watercolor homework, which is due tomorrow.

Earlier I had a terrible craving for brownies and I had all the ingredients but cake flour and sugar. Damn. So I had some hot cocoa instead. Still dying for something decadent. I've got a can of sweetened condensed milk, but I need to save that for my coffee in case I run out of milk. I've been using brown sugar to sweeten my coffee, which is pretty tasty, actually.

Fairly unproductive day, except for using the 'pooter at the rental office. Took an afternoon nap for the first time all week.

John had a link on his blog concerning a 14-year-old child prodigy who reportedly shot himself in the head. God, what a waste, all that intelligence and potential. Taught himself to read at 18 months, graduated high school at some ridiculous age I can't remember, and played piano. And now all that's gone. His organs went to people in need, so something good came of it. But shit, I've often believed, especially when I was younger, that I wasn't smart enough and wished that I had more brains, but I guess in truth it has nothing to do with happiness. In fact, and John and I have talked about this, probably the less brains a person has, the better chance of achieving contentment. I know that in my own life, there were times I had to live by shutting off my mind or else I would have probably offed myself. Intelligence is relative, anyway. In my community college class, everyone thinks I'm fucking Einstein. When I dated a med student a couple of years ago, he thought I was a fucking moron. In regards to that kid, of course we don't know what kind of life he had and all those circumstances, so intelligence alone is really an inadequate factor to consider when trying to decipher his suicide. I just think it's tragic; makes me feel he threw away his gift, but it was his gift to do with as he chose.

Then here's this story on animal intelligence. I knew that, but people like me are always accused of anthropomorphizing. Of course animals have feelings! To assume otherwise is absurd.

This being poor shit is for the birds. I've been poor before too, but back then I had better financial management skills. It's made me resolve that there will come a day when I will be well-off, dammit. Just like Scarlett-fucking-O'Hara.

Went to bed somewhat early last night but was awakened often by cat shenanigans. Man they were active. Hopefully that means the food is good for them.

The apartment "business office" has a couple of computers with internet access. It's not faultless in that there's no security that I can see--I have to manually delete the cache, passwords, cookies and autocompletes and there's probably some freakin' something I'm missing. BUT, at least it's a computer I don't have to drive to. Thank goodness. Their internet had been down for quite some time and I'd given up on them.

My repaint was only at $24 yesterday--NOT good! I'll have to send around another message tomorrow: "Ending today! Going cheap! No reserve!" to try to drum up some bids. And y'know, if she goes for some ridiculously low amount, I'll stop the auction and fucking keep her for myself. Those dolls are a lot of work. Oh wait, eBay might have some restrictions in regards to stopping auctions, I'll have to check. And also, I'd lose the listing fee, which is substantial because I have her in the "featured" thing. She's up against some stiff competition; lots of reknown artists, which I ain't, are selling right now.

I wanted to show a picture of a kitty who stole my heart last autumn. I'd been feeding a colony of strays at my complex for a while. They consisted of Gray Kitty, a silver tabby who's the mother of Newman, Peep and Missy; Gray Kitty's sister, a white, blue-eyed cat who was deaf; and a juvenile white kitten from Gray Kitty's previous litter. The two white cats used to hang around together; maybe the younger looked out for her deaf aunt. Well, sho 'nuff, some asshole complained about them and animal control was called. The deaf cat was taken away from what I can gather. Shortly thereafter, the little white cat started appearing at my building, clear at the other end of the complex. She was terribly thin and scared to death. It took me a few days, but I cajoled her into my apartment and she never showed any inclination to go back outside. She even let me pet and bathe her. I tentatively named her Bijou, French for "little jewel."

I wound up giving her to my next-door neighbors, who already had a cat and those two got along famously. But then after a couple of weeks, they took her in to the vet where she tested positive for feline leukemia and was put to sleep. I still miss that little darling and I wish I'd kept her. I wanted to help her and it turned out that I was no help at all. I hope she can forgive me.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

(Best hick voice) I still cain't b'lieve wut I done last night. In regards to the camera. What a bind I've put myself in. It's vital to my earning potential. Crap. You see? I shouldn't have said it was getting long in the tooth! It heard me and took a header. Bitch.

Aw, no. Couple across the way. Shrill hysterics. Christ. May I say that I'm grateful not to live adjacent to them? Thank you. Hey, I could give her some of my antidepressants, think she'd appreciate the offer?

I scrounged together $2.40 in change, mostly pennies, to buy some gas. Ooh, the clerk's gonna hate me. What a pisser that it'll only get me a gallon!

Last night I mailed to the bank the check my SIL wrote me for the food processor. I did it last night because it was collected at 7:30 this morning so it's on its way. I really need to get a local bank.

So anyway, got a busy day ahead. Gotta prepare the cats' food; they're about to whither up and blow away because I'm such a mean mommy I never feed them. I need to do homework and take care of a couple of tasks around the house. Would love to do more dollies while I seem to be on a kick. Maybe. I thought that I could prepare more than one doll and then make arrangements with my bro to go over there for a bulk photo session.

3:34 PM

I don't know what the hell possessed me: I scrubbed my tub and shower. Since I seldom shower with my glasses on, I really didn't know exactly how cruddy it had gotten. Ew. It's just odd that I was motivated to do anything housekeeping related. In addition, I collected a bunch of dishes and started a load in the dishwasher. Mark this event in your calendar.

Took all the meat I could off the chicken carcass and made the kitty food, which they seem to dig. Cut my finger in the process. I took the bones and threw them in a stock pot for some soup. We'll see how that comes out. I adore egg drop soup. I don't have any vegetables for the stock, which is too bad. If it's bland or whatever, I can always use it as a base for my beans.

Here's a funny little anecdote: Eduard and I were in bed fooling around, and I was going down on him, I think for the first time, when all of a sudden we hear an outraged, "Me-OW!" like, "What are you DOING?!" I raised my head and there was Newman, teensy kitten, looking at us questioningly. I said, "It's none of your business, Newman, don't look," so he laid down and went to sleep. Later he came up and looked at me, eyes narrowed. I picked him up and cuddled on him and then he was alright.

I don't have any goat's milk for the kitties so I ground up some of my CitriCal tablets (in my mortar and pestle--I love my mortar and pestle) and added it to their food for the calcium. I've got shitloads of vitamins, none of which I take. For the longest while, I was religious about my vitamins and I feel far more alert and energetic when I take them, but I dunno, maybe I burned out. I hate burping up the B-vitamins, yuck, and I'm sick of all those horse pills.

8:31 PM

Fuckin-A, that was a good dinner. I'm eating better now that I'm broke than I did before. I had to let the broth boil off for quite some time and I said to hell with it and threw in some lentils too. Turned out pretty good, all things considered. Should feed me for a coupla days. I'm all proud of myself, I actually cooked something.

God you'll never believe what an evening I had. I finished my doll, gave her a perm and everything, and when I went to take pictures, I tripped over the tripod and knocked my camera over, breaking it. My only digital camera. Well, being desperate for money (get a whiff of that desperation?) and wanting to put the doll up for auction tonight, I phoned my bro and asked him to let me use his gear. I went ahead and took my extra food processor over there because earlier today my SIL agreed to buy it off me. So by driving over there and back I used up my last quarter tank of gas. The pics turned out weird because of the lighting and the fact that my bro has different photo editing software. *sigh* But at least I got the auction up. The doll I put up on Wednesday is at $104 with three days to go, so that's encouraging. The buyers for the first two dolls haven't paid me yet, which is not.

Eating cold mac and cheese.

SIL gave me ten bucks for gas, which was sweet of her. And yeah, I need gas, but I need food more because there's nothing else for the kittens, so I drove to a 24-hour store and bought some groceries. Ten dollars is all I had and what was my final bill? $9.80. Whew. If the milk wasn't on sale I wouldn't have made it. Cheapest meat I could find was whole chicken at sixty-four cents a pound, I think it was. I'll have to cut and grind it myself, but oh well. I also bought some pinto beans which should see me through. I actually love beans. Bought 18 eggs for ninety-four cents--man! Usually I buy the eggs from free-range chickens only, but beggars can't be choosers.

Here's me being petty, but this one person I "know" from a dolly group has put her first repaint up for sale and it ended at $650. I haven't sold a doll for half that much. Admittedly, her doll looks great. How did she figure it out so fast? I'm still having trouble. I have considered that it's not my calling. I've got a couple of other dolls I can do. They earn a bit, at least. Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Got a hair up my ass and painted a doll for my own collection last night. There's an FAO Schwartz exclusive called Crystal Blue Tyler that was featured on the cover of Haute Doll magazine. Yes, that is a real magazine. The Crystal Blue is expensive and I have no use for the evening gown she wears either, so I painted a doll I already had in imitation of Crystal Blue's prototype. Blatant copywrite violation, yes, but I don't intend to sell her and pass her off as my own; like I said, she's for me. Anyway, I'm so pleased with how she turned out and tickled that I finally have the doll I've wanted. Additionally, I think mine's better than the production dolls. Tee hee hee!

Today's my last day to do a repaint for sale because over the weekend I plan to do homework. Better get busy! She's almost done, except for the eyes, which are by far the hardest part. :-p

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Thursday, March 17, 2005, 12:25 PM

The kittens are amusing themselves by rolling a Chapstick back and forth in my bathtub. I think they like the noise. That's fine, so long as they stay the hell out of my art supplies.

I can't believe it's already fucking Thursday. :-(

Ooh, ooh, I have to copy my web page info to a zip disk so I can update my web page from school; they have Front Page. Kewl.

Upsetting news: a friend of mine had one of her dogs choke to death yesterday. Very sad, tragic.

Well, back to it.

7:33 PM

I thought I might go to the computer lab today but I don't think so after all. I have to be mindful of my gas, and I don't have a doll ready for auction yet tonight, so I'll go tomorrow.

I was thinking about my butt the other morning. I lay in bed with the kittens and my mind wanders to the oddest places. But in my teens and twenties I had a pronounced, round booty that men loved. It made me uncomfortable, actually, because it invited unwanted attention, particularly in the marines where no one has any social skills and all those young men were drenched in testosterone and frustrated because there weren't enough chicks. "Look at that sweet ass!" Or once I was walking away from my barracks and some dude called out from the third floor, "Hey, I like your ass!" "Then why don't you come down here and kiss it?" I retorted. For some women it's boobs that call attention, for me it was my ass.

Well, now that I'm older, my ass has flattened out. It could be just because of time or else a result of the insane working out I used to do, but now my butt, although nicely shaped according to Eduard, isn't extraordinarily prominent. Fine by me. A small part of me wants my jaunty butt back, but mostly I'm cool with it.

I don't have anything for the kittens to eat so I heated up my last can of jack mackerel with a packet of tuna, a couple of eggs and some pet vitamin powder, and gave that to them. They're eating it, thank goodness. If I have to, I'll ask my bro for some money but I really don't want to. Ugh. There's food for me but nothing else for the cats. Got nothing in the freezer thanks to the week without power.

Cheryl called earlier today and we had a little chat, just getting caught up. She goes, "How's Eduard?" and I was like, "I don't know!" I guess she figured it would be one of those on-again, off-again situations. No, thank god. She was saying her friend Jamie is always hooking up with losers. Cheryl told her, "You got yourself out of the last situation, and then you turn around and get yourself another crackhead nigga." Cheryl's smart, lots of good sense about people and life in general. She seems more even-tempered and content now, which makes me glad because she was an angry, adversarial teen. Her siblings aren't doing so well, but she turned out okay.

Peep's asleep on top of the monitor, where it's warm. She's so cute. Cheryl goes, "How long have you had those cats?" and I said, "six months." "Oh, they're yours." I guess she's right. It just doesn't fit in with my family, as we all sorta share custody of the dogs, who do not get along with cats. But maybe things will iron out, especially after I move. I mean, hell, I raised those cats from the time they were three weeks old. They're my children. Maybe I could give them up to someone I know would take top-notch care of them, but my adoption service operates out of a major pet store chain where any schmo can walk in. I've never been comfortable with that, but I signed up with them because I couldn't afford the vet care on my own.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Hey, in less than an hour, my doll went from $.99 to $61.99. Schweet!!

[Praying: Please bring in some money, please bring in some money.]

Better work on my next dolly.

I'm hangin' out at the campus computer lab, which is open, obviously, although not 24/7 as usual, waiting for one auction to end and another to begin, which happens in about 45 minutes. My first My Scene sold for $26! Kick ass! My second one is standing at sixteen bucks right now. Not great but not bad either. Beats the fuck out of the ninety-nine cent starting bid that I was afraid I'd get.

I'm disgruntled. Overdrawn at the bank. And what do those fuckers do? Charge me overdraft fees, $75 so far. Like, I have no money. Fucking idiots.

Sure wish a dollar would materialize out of nowhere so I could buy a Coke.

I have a dolly friend, and I'm going to say something not nice about her. She's a repaint artist, but her work is not very good. Uneven lines, clumpy paint, smudgy, dingy, messy. I think it's a matter of her eyesight more than her talent, but she just can't see the quality of her work objectively. Well, I guess that's the same with all of us; when I look at some of my earlier work I now understand why they didn't sell for much.

8:15 p.m.

Okay the second My Scene auction ended and didn't exceed sixteen bucks. Oh well. It's going to a lady in England. The postage is equivalent to the purchase price.

'DOH! I forgot to make the auction private again! This is the one I'm hoping will bring in the real cash and someone had already bid so I couldn't change it. So, I had to cancel and relist. More money down the drain. Bah. I'm going home.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Tuesday, March 15, 2005, 11:45 AM

Looked at my dolly by daylight and hell, she needs more work. *sigh* I should have kept track of how many hours I put into her. I can't stand the thought of more painting at the moment, though, so I think I'll work on her hair. This is my chance to be a beautician: I add highlights/lowlights, perm, cut and style. Kinda fun, but if you fuck up, it doesn't grow back.

Gotta figure out my schedule. I must get to a computer today. If the computer lab's closed I may have to drive all the way to my bro's, a good 45 minutes one way (and they get tired of my mug if they see it too much).

Peep-a-depe has been more forthcoming lately, which is really rewarding because she's always been a little reticent. She still has a touch of wildness to her; really jumpy at loud noises. But she's getting better.

3:21 PM

I just put some neem oil on Newman's chin. Neem oil is an anti-microbial and works against mites and such critters, and fungus. Good stuff. It has a strong odor which a lot of people find objectionable. It reminds me of asophaeteda, an Indian spice, so to me it's a warm, comfortable smell. It's clear that Newman is not in agreement--he is not speaking to me. But he has little black flecks on his chin and when I scratch them, they come off along with bits of fur. So hopefully the neem oil will make that go away. It worked great on their ear mites and ringworm a while back.

11:33 PM

Finally finished the doll. Would have liked to put her up for auction tonight but the pictures in .tiff format took too long to download. Tomorrow, then. It'll have to be a seven-day auction because a three-day will end on the weekend and a five-day will end on Monday, neither of which are good options, I believe. I dunno. I'll check out other auctions and see when they end, or better yet, I'll check the completed auctions. The first My Scene repaint ended this evening and I'm wondering how she did. Did she sell for ninety-nine cents? Hope not.

Second day in a row without computer action--man.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Monday, March 14, 2005, 11:53 AM

Had a nice time yesterday at my bro's. It's nice of them to let me invite myself over to dinner. And dinner was GOOD, too, damn good. You better know I appreciate home cooking nowadays. I used to cook for myself and then eat a week from the leftovers. I don't know why I don't do it now (excuse: I had an apartment with a decent kitchen back then: bigger than a closet with plenty of cabinets and counter-top space).

My bro told me that he burned 2,800 calories riding his bike yesterday. That sounds lethal! He's already a beanpole. Like me, if he gains weight it's flab around his middle but he doesn't really get fat (well, I can get fat if I set my mind to it). If I burn 400 calories I'm out of commission for two days or more. I don't know how he does it. Speaking of which, I'm working out today, gottdammit, if it kills me! It's been over a week.

Okay, here's a somewhat weird turn of events: My SIL has gotten a job at the company where I used to work prior to going back to school. I hated that place, but she's a "professional" while I was just a schmuck, so it'll be better for her. Her admin, though, is someone I used to work with, which is freaking me out. Actually she's lucky because D. is competent and efficient. She used to have her dark side though: she was part of a nasty, vicious gossip pool. But SIL won't have to worry about that so much, not being her peer. Plus she's far more socially savvy than I.

The thought of being confined to an office all day (and by office, I mean office building; I had a cube) makes me sad. Remember the scant hour you get for lunch, where you drive madly to an eatery, stand in line with all the other joes and choke down your meal before screaming back to work? I remember the fluorescent lighting, the blue indoor/outdoor carpeting on the floors and the lighter blue fabric of the cubicle walls. Sometimes I was so bored I'd go to other coffee stations and make coffee, just because. I used to wish I smoked so I could join others outside. Sometimes I went with them anyway. And I was always eating chocolate, for the sensory stimulation, I guess. I never understood how people could be happy working in such an environment. Maybe the professionals had it okay because they were doing work they enjoyed and they had offices with windows. I dunno. Most likely economics will dictate that once again I'll work for a company of some sort, but I don't relish the idea. I just hope I don't hate it, that's all I can ask.

Something I've always thought blows is the few vacation days Americans get. Two weeks a year?! Give me a fucking break. You go from three months a year to two weeks. How does that make sense? I never made it without using up all my sick time well before the year was out.

Me bro let me use his camera and computer to take pics of my latest creation for the auction. He's got a Fuji something-or-other. It's sweet. While I've always liked my Olympus Camedia C-2020, it's certainly getting long in the tooth by now. Also, it has a tendency to overdo the blues. With Ron's camera, I didn't have to make any color adjustments at all. So what does that mean? I need a new camera -- ha, ha. And a new computer, and shit, while I'm at it, a new everything.

With all these lofty plans, I'd better get to work.

10:24 PM

And work I did, all day. This doll is my best work to date and shit, after all this effort she'd better *sell*. I'm dying to know how my other auctions are doing but I guess I won't find out until tomorrow. I like eBay; I think it's fun. You do have to deal with some freaks sometimes though.

I have no idea what the office hours for the computer lab are during spring break. The community college lab is closed.

Yesterday morning I met up with a dolly friend at a dolly function. I like her but she talks a mile a minute and I can barely get a word in edgewise. It's exhausting. It might be because she's home all day with no one to talk to. I should have asked her how to administer medicine to a cat.

Bah, Newman's mounting Missy. At least now he can't knock her up. He gets better looking every day, that boy. He spent a lot of time on my lap today, which I like. I think that he's already more affectionate like he was prior to acquiring his balls. He doesn't seem to miss 'em, which is good.

Missy and Peep are turning out to be lovely ladies, too. The contrast is especially striking with Peep, the tortie. You should have seen the raggedy, flea-bitten little mite she was. I remember bathing them to try to get rid of the fleas, and they were as light and fragile as birds.

My back's killing me. I'm going to bed. And did I work out? Oh no. But money's more important right now.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Writing from my bro's. Naturally, I wrote a bunch of stuff at home but forgot the disk. *sigh* I'm being antisocial because I've been on this thing for more than an hour, I'm sure. Set up another auction. The first auction hasn't exceeded $.99. Holy Christ, can you imagine selling something you've worked hard on for that amount? Well, it's still got a couple of days.

Other than that, my brain is empty. I've invited myself to dinner and I think my SIL is making brisket. YUM! Meow, I'm with you, I speak out of both sides of my mouth when it comes to meat. As passionately as I feel about animal welfare, I still eat meat. I'm a sinner.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Saturday, March 12, 2005, 11:37 AM

Now I understand why my brother's always got the sniffles. Asthma makes you build up phlegm in your lungs, and when you take your medicine, it all comes up.

The kittens are feeling good and ornery. Newman and Peep are chasing their tails, even. Missy never showed symptoms of the temperature she had. Eating like a little piggy and molesting the fish.

[Isn't "molest" an ugly word?]

For the past three or so nights in a row I've forgotten my Wellbutrin. Damn those twice-a-day tablets. And then yesterday I didn't take my AD's at all. Feel okay today, a bit sluggish but that's not out of the ordinary.

Spent all day yesterday, and I mean, all day, from 10 a.m. until 11 p.m., reading Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy, and that was only the last third or so. I'm on a Marge Piercy kick, can you tell? Gone to Soldiers is no light read. I fucking love that book. It makes me feel as if I can understand what it was like for people during WWII. I think it's genius how she was writing about such varied people in contrasting locations with differing viewpoints. It took her seven years to write that book.

A momentous occasion: I made some tuna helper in my own kitchen. A hot meal I didn't get at a drive-thru.

I cleaned my fish tank, a task long overdue. I'd bought a new betta, unusually beautiful for a pet-store fish. I'm pissed at myself, though, because when I transferred him into his new tank I tore his fin. Fuck! It'll never grow out as pretty as before. While I was cleaning the tank, Missy and Peep were pissing me off, sticking their paws into everything. Finally I flicked water in their faces, yelling, "Git, git, git! You want water so much, take it in the puss." That worked. Peep took off with much indignation and stayed away, and Missy only tried one more time. She looked at me in amazement, "How can you do that to my charming self?" Anyway, it's nice to have at least one little task done that had been put off for a long time.

I might run later, outside. I haven't worked out in at least a week and exercising outside is a nice change of pace.

Time to work on dollies, try to bring in some "coin," as Eduard liked to call it.

I was reflecting yesterday how now I could really use the money that I'd spent on Eduard, particularly the car battery I bought for him. What kind of a man lets his girlfriend buy him a car battery and not reimburse her for it? Someone with no pride, for one thing. A sense of entitlement, for another.

I've got the radio on for some background noise, despite the fact that all the local stations are owned by the same corporation and they're homogenized, risk-free, repetitive and dull. I first noticed corporations buying out local stations in about '98. They've absolutely ruined radio, trashed it. Leached it of any uniqueness or personality and closed the door to any band not in the mainstream, even in those so-called "alternative" formats. Bah. I used to love listening to the radio. I'll never forgive them for taking the joy out of it.

Eh, I'll play some MP3's instead.

11:50 p.m.

God I'm so tired. All I did today was change the fish water and paint a doll. I started off working on a Tonner and wound up on another My Scene. I wonder why I prefer them. Probably because the standards aren't as high and I can be cartoony. Man. Now it's time for bed because I actually have to be somewhere tomorrow morning. It'll be the first time I've left my apartment in a couple of days. I'm a stinky girl but the shower can wait until the morning. There's no one around here to offend.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

noon

I have to type at home and publish later, of course, and every time I pull up MS Word I think, "Word to your mutha," or just "werrrrrd."

Dropped off the kittens at the vet today for their tutoring. Was on the road at about 7:45; I don't think I've been conscious at that hour in months. I'd forgotten how nice mornings are. It felt unpleasant to deliver to the pets to what I know will be a scary experience for them. I got a progress report at about noon. Peep was spayed and Newman neutered without complications, but it seems that Missy has a temperature of 104, is on a course of antibiotics, and will have to go back next week. I'm upset that Missy was sick; what could it be?

Poor Newman, no more balls. He had such nice kitten balls, too. Two soft little pillows covered in velvety gray down (although big relative to his size). I couldn't help but touch his balls sometimes; why can't human balls be as nice?

6:30 p.m.

Had my shrink appointment todee. I don't know why I always leave there feeling browbeaten. True, I don't believe in myself or my talents. True, I have difficulty committing to goals. True, I fear or avoid success because deep down inside I don't feel I deserve it. I can pinpoint these problems to certain aspects of my upbringing. Fine, but I don't know what to do about it! What do I DO about it?

I got no money. NO MONEY. Not two cents to rub together. I'm ditching class tonight to put a doll repaint up for auction but it's just a My Scene Barbie and won't fetch very much. I'm working on a Tonner that should sell for a minimum of $50 and shit, hopefully more than that. Still working on technique, trying to figure things out. Found a product at an art store today that might be an answer, but of course, as I said, I have no money...

The kittens are home. Newman and Peep are groggy and sore, poor things. They don't appear to like the food I made for them this time around, which is too bad because I have nothing else. They got their tapeworm remedy administered--good. Peep has crawled into a little cardboard box and she's curled up in it. Poor sweetie. She peeked out of the top and her face is so funny; her eyes are a toffee color in stark contrast to her black tortie fur, and she has a sharp, wise expression. She reminds me of an owl.

Had a problem with my lease, in that I didn't check it closely enough when I signed it in November 2003 (I'm like that), and it was made out for only a year and not fourteen months, although at the bottom it stated I was to receive two months free prorated over fourteen months. So, I pointed this out to the office staff, thinking that they'd be unsympathetic and unhelpful as usual, but surpringly, they amended the lease to extend it the two months. Thank god. I'm not ready to move right now. However, that means I only have three months to get my shit together. Man!

9:30 p.m.

I put up my freaking auction and already got one bid, which is nice, but once again I forgot to make it private. That'll cost me, because it inhibits dolly lovers from bidding since the community is so small. Crud.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Meow's last post brings up an anecdote.

To give you some background first, though, my ex-husband was a freakin' sex addict. I'm not kidding. His self-esteem hinged upon whether he got any and how much. And as I've mentioned before, he sure didn't get much with me. He was always on me like white on rice, and the more he pressured, the less I could bring myself to perform what I considered to be a chore, my "marital duty."

I might have told you that he once, once woke me out of a sound sleep and asked me to blow him. Dude, don't ever fuck with my sleep. I told Eduard about it; I said to him, "If you do that, I tell you right now, it'll get you nowhere," as he laughed.

So the ex was always wanking. Always. Once underneath the bed I found a t-shirt with what must have been hundreds of spooges on it. GROSS. I tossed it in the wash just so he'd know I found it. Oh, and he was always surfing porn and denying it.

Even though I seldom woke up, some part of my consciousness knew he was at it once again. So one time in my dream I felt the bed vibrating and immediately felt irritated. "GodDAMM your constant jerking off!" Then I woke up and found it was several months after we'd separated, I was living in a different city, and the source of the pounding was my dog Beekie enjoying a good scratch on the bed. Poor thing didn't understand why I was pissed.

Speaking of dreams (have I already said this?), I often dream up these complicated sagas that can go on over a few nights in installments. I wonder if that's because of my antidepressents, which I forgot to take today, incidentally. Last night I dreamed of my high-school best friend, the one who dumped me. Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. Will those dreams stop already?! 'Doh! Stupid subconscious!

Monday, March 07, 2005

God, I really fucking hate that. I've got a bee in my bonnet to find an obscure science fiction book I read when I was a teenager. Problem: I don't remember the title. It was about how Mars was dying so its inhabitants came to earth, referred to as Terra. They were intelligent and the earth's inhabitants at the time were savages. The characters featured were figures from Greek myths: Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Athena, etc. At the end these folks got stranded on earth so they settled on Mount Olympus and Zeus kept the locals at bay with his "thunder," which was some futuristic weapon like a phaser or something. If I read it again I'd probably hate it but I remember really enjoying it and rereading it many times. Stop laughing at me.

If anyone knows what I'm talking about, let me know.

Fuckit, I'm not going to the gym.

I've been reading the available pages of He, She, and It on Amazon.com and shit, I'm gonna have to buy that book again. That'll be the third time. Marriage contracts of five or ten years! Damn, that makes sense!!

Hmph, I guess I'll go work out, even though I'm feeling lazy. I have to shave my legs before I work out. :-P

I'm such a dick. I got my mobile phone registered with Yahoo so that it'll send me text messages as appointment reminders. Shweet! That is, if it works. I set up a test, to go off in a few minutes, called "testes, testes, 1-2-3. Location: yer butt. Uh huh huh huh huh huh." Y'know, sometimes I refuse to grow up.

I'm typing in the computer lab and the dude next to me has displayed quite an interest in whatever I've been doing, going so far as to comment on it. So, I've got the text magnification on my browser set to infinitesimal. I can't see it myself, so surely no one else can read it. I can say whatever the hell I want! Ha, a-ha, BWAh haahaahaahaaa!!

Reminds me of the time [in band camp] when I was working out on the stair machine at the gym, and this freakazoid chick on the machine next to me literally leaned over to look at my stats to see how fast I was going, etc. Talk about psychotically competitive. I mean, I'm surprised she didn't fall off her machine in her efforts; her nose was practically in my face. After the third time or whatever, I took my towel and draped it over my display panel. Jezus. I think about that nearly every time I work out.

Got a cheese pizza at Pizza Slut Express on campus. They make the best. Loads of cheese that just oozes butterfat all over my tongue. *smacking lips* Of course, if I get a pizza, then I have to get a Coke too, which is bad. But it tastes so goooooooood.

Uh, what else is going on. A disadvantage to working out is that my jeans are loose on me now.

The dude next to me, not the one who reads my crap but on the other side, is suffering from an appalling state of hygiene. Or rather, I'm suffering. Two words for ya, dude: soap and water. Make that three: toothpaste.

I talked to the watercolor professor about my idea for the "memorabilia" project and believe it or not, now I'm all excited and can't wait to get started! I'm gonna stretch the watercolor paper tonight, wheeeee.

I've got an appointment for the kittens this Thursday to be spayed/neutered. The lady from the adoption agency then said, repeatedly, "So you can bring them in to be adopted now." Shit. I have to make a decision about whether or not to adopt them myself. Help me make the decision! Gahhhh! I don't know how I can give them up but I'm not sure that's enough reason to keep them. God I love them so much. I'm glad that at least the lady agreed to schedule me an appointment somewhere else because she initially scheduled me at a place I won't name because it's nationally-known, but this one here in town bites. Surely it's not their fault, but the funding. Still, I don't want them getting their mitts on my children.

Eeee, that assignment is due tomorrow, the one about the future. My favorite scenario, or rather, what sounds most plausible to me, comes from Marge Piercy's He, She and It. There, all the corporations have merged into just a handful, like three or so, and they've become their own city-states in opposition of each other. So if you're employed at the corporation, you're also housed at their facilities, and the city-states have a protective dome covering them to keep out the toxins and radiation in the environment. People outside the dome, in no-man's land, are fucked. Another aspect of that book that I found fascinating was that people at birth had a computer port implanted in their heads, and to go on line, you just plug yourself in. No interface like keyboard, mouse or monitor. Not too different from The Matrix I guess, except this book came out first. Anyway, if I use that idea it'll be stealing. Oh! This is the book that Eduard kept! That cocksucker.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Newman's on top of the monitor next to Peep, hoiking like he's going to throw up. Don't throw up there, Newman!

The cats always beg for my cereal, but I don't feel good about giving them cow's milk. So I put down some goat's milk this morning and they seem to really like it. I'm so glad goat's milk is available in cans! But speaking of cow's milk, a gallon cost me $3.44 the other day. Christ! Why is Coke cheaper than milk?

I lived in New Zealand for a couple of years a while back, and one of my cow-irkers pronounced milk "mauwk." I couldn't help it, I think I snickered a little. Not from derision, I just thought it was funny. Lots of little differences when you go to another English-speaking country, especially in the Commonwealth. [Disclaimer: I have never been to Canada, although I would love to go.] The English and those of English descent are somewhat more particular than Americans when it comes to everyday courtesies. I think I was considered rude and abrupt, even though if you ask anyone who knows me now, they'd probably say I'm very courteous and polite. But over there, I guess they expound upon it. If I was asked to do something in the office, I'd reply, "Sure," and be done with it, you know, I didn't say, "Oh yes, if you please, I'd be quite happy to perform this task," etc. etc. blah blah blah. Whatever. There was a lot of unspoken stuff that I didn't catch on to. Some things I did figure out, like, call a table napkin a serviette; a napkin over there is strictly for feminine protection. Overall, in the day-to-day and especially at the workplace, I sensed that Americans weren't well-liked (although, as one person pointed out, "it could have just been you"). Well, shee-it, in light of recent events, they must love us now!

Ironically, although most Kiwis are English in origin, they don't really care for the Brits. They call them "poms," which stands for something I can't remember anymore. In a good-natured, ribbing kind of way, Brits are often called "pommie wankers," or something similar. Must have been great for my ex, a Brit, to come to the States where women fall to their knees and worship the English accent. Little do they realize how common he truly is. Well, that's no longer my problem.

I was feeling my breasts this morning in bed* and I realized that they're getting smaller. I think I'll have to go down a bra size. So long, B-cup! Well, that's okay; it's not like I was doing anything with them anyway, and if they're small they'll be less likely to sag later. Years ago I had a friend with an enormous rack who used to make fun of my little tits. Finally I told her, "Yeah, but when we're 50, yours will be hanging around your belly-button and mine will still be right up here where they belong." That shut her up.

* "If I were a woman, I'd stay home and feel my breasts all day." --Steve Martin, L.A. Story

By the way, I've had two Coke-free days in a row, except day-before-yesterday I had a chocolate malt, but still.

I guess that's it for now. My agenda today is to do some dolly painting and pluck my chin whiskers.

4:00

Newman is crashed out on my lap and he's so precious that I can't get up and disturb him. Now that they're getting older, they're not as affectionate as they used to be.

I started the previous two posts with "crap." Hmmm.

Anywho, yes, I know it's after one a.m. and I'm still in the friggen' computer lab. Rest assured that I won't stay until four a.m. this time because I have to make it to Taco Bell before they close at two.

Just checking out my March horoscope at Astrology.com. Apparently March is going to be a good month for love. Woo-hoo. Tall, lanky artist, did you hear that? Hmm?

Combo number one with a Pepsi, wait for me; I'll be there shortly.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Well, crap. I wrote an entry earlier today and saved it to a floppy, only to find that there's something wrong with the disk. Nice. And I don't know where I put my zip disk. Booo.

Anyway, this is short but I'm out of stuff to say. Debating on whether or not to catch a flick. I need to get something to eat.

Whoa, what an earth-shattering entry! Has your world tilted on its axis too?

Yummy coffee. I slept pretty well last night; was exhausted by my workout. Ran 30 minutes on the treadmill and rode 15 minutes on the stationary bike. I've never gotten into bike machines, but I think I should because it trains a different set of muscles in my thighs than running or the stairs--more towards the inner thigh, which on me needs more tightening.

I've decided to limit my working out to as late as possible, i.e., just before the gym closes. It fucking kills me and leaves me useless for anything else. That advice "they" give, not to exercise before bedtime because it'll energize you too much to sleep, well, that's crap in my case.

Last night I started reading Pedro Paramo by Juan Rulfo and I'm really liking it. It's a very thin book so I'll prolly finish it today. Its genre is magical realism in Latin America and it's told in a lovely non-linear fashion with beautifully spare prose. What artistry! One I admire greatly. I used to think that writing is easy, but now I see that it requires years of experience, I guess like anything worth doing.

Several months ago I was yelled at by the pet adoption agency for having the kittens on the raw diet, so I switched them to Felidae, a food made with human-grade ingredients and not available in the usual places (grocery or pet stores). Here it's sold in a hoity-toity local chain that I guess is a Home Depot for rich folks. I drove all the way over there last night, only to find they close at six-fucking-thirty! Being out of cat food, I then went to the grocery and got them some raw ingredients with which to make their dinner. They went to town on it too. It contained: ground lamb, ground pork, ground turkey, pureed chicken livers, goat's milk, eggs, pet vitamin powder, salmon oil, water and diatomaceous earth. The DE is to clear out parasites, but I've since read that it doesn't work on tapeworms because the head of the tapeworm is imbedded in the intestine (fucking nasty). Anyway, it was gratifying to see them eat it so eagerly, especially Peep, who I think is too skinny.

Well, Newman has come mewing so I'd better tend to their needs. They need food, water and their litter box cleaned. I just clipped Newman's nails.

Missy cracks me up. She's got some odd, endearing little traits, like the way she tilts her head sometimes. Also, she sits on the little sheepskin I have and starts kneading it with her paws, purring madly with her eyes rolling back in her head.

Eduard was making a six-figure salary before he abandoned his career aspirations in pursuit of a continual state of inebriation. In fact, when he and I started going out (a stupid term if I ever heard one because we never went out unless it was to a bar), he'd gotten a job where reportedly he was earning $80 an hour. However, I don't think that he even lasted two weeks. He'd rather mooch off people or work as a waiter in a sports bar. Anyway, whatever. I bring this up because he said something to me once that struck me as off. He mentioned enjoying going to expensive, five-star restaurants because he liked being waited on with that level of service. The way he said the word "service," with relish, hauteur, and a slight hiss, gave me pause.

Another time we were talking about BDSM paraphernalia and he was telling me about the "bottom" wearing a dog collar with the leash held by the "top." In public. He seemed to be all into the idea. "Fuck that!" I said. "What I do in the bedroom is nobody else's business" [except yours, dear reader--fortunately for you there's not much going on in there right now].

I'm mentioning these incidents because it becomes apparent that Eduard had more of a "dominance" thing going than strictly in the bedroom. Glad I'm out of it. Glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad, glad.

I just hope that when/if I meet someone, he'll be sexually adventurous.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Ooh, crap, I just realized another disadvantage of not having a home computer: I can't really look up sex stuff on-line. Uh. I mean, right now I'm lucky enough to be by myself in the computer room but I still have to be careful of someone seeing over my shoulder; and looking up sex crap over the school's server makes me uncomfortable too. :-P

I might see a movie this evening. The Jacket is out, as is Be Cool and Diary of a Mad Black Woman.

Friday, March 04, 2005, 1:52 PM

*Gasp!* My rent! Oh, relief, I paid it last night. God, my heart.

Last night the teacher was massacring the words Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft. I mean, bad. I couldn't help myself, I went up to her after class and told her, hopefully diplomatically, how to pronounce them. What an annoying pupil I yam! But just because I'm a whitie doesn't mean I don't speak another language. You know what's funny? Blacks and hispanics treat me better once they learn I'm half German. As Cheryl put it once, "You're not white, you're German!"

About a year or so ago, I took introductory French at the university, because I love the French culture, language and cuisine and I would love to visit there and maybe stay for a while (certainly not a popular sentiment in today's political climate but I don't give a shit about that). That teacher was an idiot, stood up there the first day of class and started babbling at us in French. Some people had taken French in high school, but come on! Introduction to French! Well, I wound up dropping the class. Now I'm taking German to get my language requirement out of the way and because I wouldn't mind becoming fluent in my mother's tongue, but one day I will learn French. I'd probably be better off taking it at a community college, where they truly assume you know nothing.

Christ, those fucking cats need to see a vet! Last I heard from that adoption agency, they told me they were out of money and that the appointments would have to wait. Well, Newman is mounting Missy and something needs to be done about it now. I'm running out of objects to throw at him (don't worry, my aim is atrocious).

I was sorry to learn that Meow had given up her blog. :-P

Thursday, March 03, 2005

In sociology class we have to create a futuristic society for our homework assignment. You know, how like right now we're in the post-industrial society. Like that. Then the teacher announced we have to read them out loud to the class. CRAP. Guess I can't use my idea of a sex-monkey society where women hang suspended in swings and take it from both directions.

Whoa, where did that come from. (Hooo-wah, sounds like fun though.)

Honestly, this is going to be a hard assignment for me. I have trouble imagining stuff like "futuristic societies." Will it be better? Will it be worse? Clean, like in Star Trek? Or gritty, like in Blade Runner? Space travel? Personal robots? Holy crap.

Newman just leaped onto my back and dug in with his claws. God it hurt! Why did he do that?

Bought a cheapie doll at Tarjez last night so I could practice some painting techniques. I've seen repainted dolls that go for upwards of a grand on eBay; I know I could do that well (and shit, I could use the money). I just have to figure a few things out, particularly how to make the eyes luminous and not flat-looking.

I've got a way-cute second-grade portrait of my brother. I think I'll use that for my watercolor assignment. Hell, portraiture is my fave anyway. I think I'm going to try to do it looser and not engage so much painstaking detail. Realism tends to be a drag sometimes.

Last evening I drove to the hoity-toity neighborhood where there's one of the few theaters featuring "indie/foreign" flicks, and I saw The Merchant of Venice. It was well-done; I forgot after a while that I was watching Shakespeare, and Al Pacino. I wound up not going to the gym. I was worn out. However, I do plan on going for a jog around the neighborhood and some dolly painting today prior to sociology class.

Oh, just remembered, I had some awful, terrible dream about how my ex came here, took up residence at my place, and announced that we were married again. What a nightmare! What's cool is, in my dream I remembered that our divorce was final and that we were not married. I told him, "no, we're not getting back together and you're not staying here. Our marriage was dissolved and we can't start over. Too much has transpired and it's too late; I don't want to be with you anymore." You go, subconscious!

Lately I've noticed that I feel free of him. Perhaps because it's been five years since the divorce, which is also about how long we were together. I don't think I even hate him anymore. That's trippy, innit?

I also dreamed about high school classmates again, which always irritates me to no end. I think that, even after all these years, I seek validation from those assholes. "I'm not a nerd, I'm not a geek anymore! Love me!" Pardon me while I retch.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Anyway, it's a cranky kinda day. The cold caught me off guard and I didn't dress warmly enough. Thank god I at least wore my raincoat. I went to watercolor and saw some slides of examples of the "memorabilia" project. The teacher made a point to mention, as a result of my speaking to him, that if we don't have much memorabilia, we can find other subjects; the point of the exercise is to investigate the transjparency of the medium. Cool. Except now, between the weather, my earlier introspection, and that, I feel depressed. I was only in watercolor an hour; I could easily have skipped.

Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty. I didn't have any Cokes yesterday and I'd like today to be another Coke-free day.

Will I go to the gym or not? Cool thing about shitty weather is, the gym's not so crowded. I always thought that was funny, because the point of a gym is that you work out indoors.

Just got an email from astrology.com. Subject: How's your love life? Fuck you.

Yesterday evening for some reason I was unable to publish on the blogger site. Don't know if it was a site problem or a problem with the connection. I have noticed that blogger acts weird depending on where I access it.

Anyway, slept really late again. I have to remember to set my alarm on days I have to get to class. Pretty sad when you can't make a noon class. Kitten shenanigans woke me up often, as did weirded-out dreams and night sweats (I hate when dreams go on and on all night, despite my efforts to break out of them). But it's raining like a mo-fo out there, so I think I'll skip altogether. That campus has a tendency to flood, as do a lot of the roadways.

At least my thighs aren't killing me like they were last night. I guess the tissue knit in my sleep. All the same, I think I'll skip the gym today.

I really *must* do something about this godforsaken apartment.

More on the former classmate who's now an actor: he's conventionally handsome but I find I'm not attracted to him. He's one of those burly-jock types, with a square jaw. He'd play a good Superman. Although other girls might pass out for that type, it does little for me.

A very early memory: I was sitting on the floor in my great-grandparents' house, the center of attention. I spied the old coffee can that my great-grandfather used as a spittoon, and I started to crawl towards it. Both my parents were like, "No," shaking their heads. I looked at them for a moment, and then made another go toward the spittoon and this time my parents sounded like they were getting mad, "NO!" So I gave up.

My great-grandparents raised my dad. I know little about his childhood, but apparently his mom was a running a little "business" on the side while her husband was gone driving his rig. Yep, you heard it here first, my grandma was a hooker. Gotta love my roots. Anyway, my dad's mom left when he was young. When I was about seven or so, I used to quiz my dad about his childhood and stuff before my mom told me not to; I think it made him depressed. He told me then that his mother left because "she didn't love him," and that she had jet-black hair. Anyway, apparently my dad got shuffled from relative to relative because "nobody wanted him," as he put it. Then his grandparents put their foot down and said, "We'll take him," because the situation was wrong. But my great-grandparents were too old, really, to raise a kid. When my dad was 14 he lied about his age and joined the National Guard. That's pretty much all I know about that. Oh, except that my dad's mother tried to contact him when he was an adult, but he wouldn't see her, and eventually she died. Also, my great-grandparents lived into their 90's and died within a year of each other when I was in my late teens.

I don't blame my dad for not wanting to see his mom. You get only one chance at parenting and if you fuck it up, that's it. That's how I feel about him. There have been times I got the impression that my dad' sorry for what he's done and he'd like to make it up, but it's too late. He didn't appreciate and nurture the precious gift from God that was his daughter, and it's over now. I only converse with him on a very superficial level and I don't feel anything for him. I don't even think I hate him anymore. There's another reason I need to find a way to earn a butt-load of money: I'll need to pay for a nursing home because there's no way I'm taking care of his aged ass.

Eh, I guess I'll go to watercolor class after all. It's quit raining.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Okay, maybe this "no internet at home" thing has its disadvantages. Today I rushed to the gym and only had a 20 minute cardio session, then had a quick shower and didn't dry my hair before driving screaming to class, only to find that no one was there except for four other clueless students. So, I go to the computer lab and check my email for the first time today, to find a note from the teacher saying that class is cancelled. Great. Funny how shit happens.

I don't know how many hours I slept. I wonder if it's because I'm working out. It's always taken a lot out of me. I'm sore too, because I did squats for the first time. Not sure if that's a good exercise for me. Surely I'd have to use light weights because the last thing I want or need is gargantuan thighs. I've always had a muscular butt, thighs and calves (Bavarian mountain-climbing legs, I call them), and in the early-to-mid 80's when women were expected to look like sticks, I used to hate my muscles. Now, of course, I'm glad for them, and it doesn't hurt that they're esthetically valued now. I just have to work out my upper body because it's unbalanced to look like Twiggy from the waist up and then like Xena from the waist down.

Well, anyway, the squats worked out my thighs and upper glutes but what needs working out is my lower glutes, the part that hangs out of the bathing suit. I'm not sure that exercise covers it. It's just that I'm sick of using that butt-machine where you kick back the weights in the doggy-style position. I wear these big, baggy shorts to the gym and I'm afraid that the legs hang wide open and then everyone can see my skivvies. My granny-panties. Otherwise I'm not too self-conscious at the gym. Whether other people look at me or not, I don't give a shit.

Yeah, I buy men's shorts for working out. [Oops, I have to start some laundry. --I'm back.] Women's shorts strike me as too short. I also never wear, for working out or street wear, tight, small tops as are the fashion now. Eduard used to tell me that I had some really nice curves and that I should show them off, but instead I obscure my figure with clothes that hang like a tent. It's like I don't *want* anyone to look at me. That must be from when I was growing up, where I felt such shame for my developing body because my dad was always leering at it and trying to grab me. He made me feel like I was just a collection of body parts. Then when I left home, I was always uncomfortable with guys looking at my body; it evoked the same sense of shame. So over the years I developed a "fashion sense," if you can call it that, to protect myself. Lately, even though I'm still a jeans-and-t-shirt kinda gal, I've delved into buying tops made especially for women, that don't obscure my shape. But I find I don't wear them that much. What a heavy burden shame is.

We have an assignment in watercolor that I'm not digging at all: it's called "memorabilia." We're to paint a collage with overlapping images to investigate the transparency of the medium, which is cool by me. But the subjects are to be collections of memorabilia from our lives. Awright, I don't mind my life lately and I feel that it will continue to get better, but in the past my life has mostly sucked. An overbearing, hysterical mother, a pedophilic dad, moving to fundamentalist BFE where I never fit in, my best friend of three years dumping me for a more popular crowd, which hurt me profoundly, then joining the marines where I lived an extension of what my dad taught me, that I was put on this earth just to service men. Years of debilitating depression, working in dead-end, demeaning jobs, and moving from place to place in an attempt to find something better, only to learn that my depression had followed me. Then being married, which I liked a lot, only to have my husband dump me for someone who fucked him in the ass and blew him on a frequent basis. I mean, ya know? Hate to sound so maudlin, but I don't have a collection of "memorabilia." I've got dolls galore, which don't really mean much to me at the end of the day. My life has been very lonely and I don't like to talk about it, especially publicly.

Let me mention that I did learn something important from my marriage: you have to be with someone you love to fuck or it's not going to work out. I mean, the desire will not improve with time if there's no chemistry, it'll only get worse. That's my experience anyway. I totally underestimated the importance of sex. With Eduard was the first time I enjoyed it; too bad he's a drunk.

It hit me recently that the only times Eduard and I truly communicated verbally were twice: the night he first came over to my place, and over the phone during our "break." Those were the only times I felt connected to him, the only times we discussed anything deep or significant. I think he looked to me to crack jokes, make him laugh and forget about his troubles.

One thing that pains me about giving up the cats is, I can't bear the thought of having no physical contact with another living being. You know?

4:15 p.m.

There's a person from my graduating class in high school who has since become a successful actor on a popular t.v. show. It's funny to see his face on the covers of publications in the supermarket, but of course I don't know him now, and I didn't know him well back then. What's funny, though, is that he was the first high school classmate I'd "seen" since graduation (I've since met up with my friend Cheryl). When I was in high school, I lived for the day I could get the hell out of there; it was miserable. When that day came, I slammed the door shut on my high school experiences and never looked back. But then when I saw that familiar face on the boob tube, the memories came flooding back and ever since I've had those frequent dreams about my classmates, I guess because nothing was really resolved or whatever. It's just been weird, that's all. This guy was a jock and hung with the popular crowd. A lot of those jocks were loutish pigs, but, and I don't just say this because he's an actor now, he was more of a gentleman. Not that he went out of his way to be nice to me or anything; any association with me would have been social suicide.

I was working at a fast food joint after school, Come-Fuck-Me Fried Chicken, and one afternoon all the jocks and their girlfriends came in and ate a meal in the restaurant. When they left, not only did they not clean up their plates, they had deliberately made an astonishing mess. They stayed in their cars in the parking lot so they could see my reaction when I had to clean it up. Must have fetched a hearty yuk. But I vaguely remember the actor guy picking up his tray and heading to the trash receptacle when one of the piggier jocks goes, "C'mon! Leave it there!" so he did. At least he tried.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder