Mon, Aug. 4th, 2014, 10:49 pm
I've been feeling overwhelmed lately, and I'm not sure how to fix it.
I had to spend some unexpected money on my car (new brakes), and then when I was supposed to work a few extra hours, I got sick and missed a few days of work instead. My car needs more work that I don't have the money for, but have to do by September to pass its e-test, and no one can even tell me how much that will cost until I spend about $200 on diagnostics. I know it's an old car, but there's nothing majorly wrong with it; all the repairs I've ever done are wear-and-tear things (brakes, suspension, etc) and there's no way I can afford a new one. Because I had to put new brakes in my car, I wasn't able to put that money toward my visa bill, so it's just getting bigger. Meanwhile, today is about the first day in the past two weeks I actually don't feel sick. I just have absolutely no energy and I'm pretty sure it's my depression because of all this shit. FYI, kidney stones suck. My living room flooded again because the landlord STILL hasn't fixed the leaks that started last fall (he said it would happen in spring), and my roommate was away this weekend so I didn't have anyone to back me up when I tried to tell him that I don't intend to pay rent again until it's fixed, so all I managed to say to him was that I'm really unhappy and please let me know when it will be fixed. Meanwhile all my living room furniture is pushed into half the room, there's a big-ass Rubbermaid tote in the fireplace to catch the rain, one of my bath towels is soaked in ashy water that leaked out of the fireplace (because I couldn't find my old towels), and now that things are dry I'm going to have to rip out the carpet in here myself because if I wait for him to do it it will never happen.
I saw my grandparents (Dad's parents) a month ago for the first time since Christmas, and I can't get over how old and frail they are. Grampa has been seeing a kidney specialist and has to start dialysis, and I really don't think Gramma should be driving him to the next town over three days a week, I'm amazed she still has her license, but they're too proud and stubborn to ask for help and the only person near them with any brains is my aunt, and if she stepped up to do it without being asked they'd probably be furious and stop speaking to her again, and the only other person is my super-flaky cousin who wouldn't even think about the fact that they might need help. Every time I see them part of me wants to move up north and help them, but there's no jobs in their tiny town and I really don't actually want to live there.
And my best friend is moving to Indiana in a few weeks and her boyfriend is there and she got a great job offer and I really want to be happy for her but it's not working.
Sun, Feb. 9th, 2014, 11:43 pm
Sabin, my gecko, died yesterday. I feel stupid being this upset about an animal that actively avoided me and bit me when I handled him, but here I am crying again. My whole interaction with him as a pet was putting food and water in his tank while he hid from me, seeing him freeze in place like "if I don't move she can't see me," getting bit when I had to catch him to clean his tank or something, and listening to him jump around at night. But I've been doing that for nearly nine years. He was kind of a crap pet but he was the first pet, other than fish, that was just mine. He moved with me six times (to & from Orillia twice, to my old apartment, and here). He was an anniversary present that well outlived the relationship. He survived power outages, escaping his tank into my bedroom, and losing his tail. And tomorrow I have to take his little body into work to store in the freezer until the ground thaws in the spring and I can bury him.
Mon, Dec. 16th, 2013, 11:43 pm
There is a reason I never wanted to have a roommate. Living with one of my best friends was supposed to make things easier, since I can't afford to live in this bloody city on my own. We have very similar tastes, likes and dislikes, and I thought we had similar ideas about cleanliness. I was so very wrong.
I don't know what to do anymore. I could live with the general untidiness, if she'd just wash the fucking dishes once a week. I don't think once a week is unreasonable, and when I lived on my own once a week was enough, so logically if two people each do dishes once a week it would be under control.
The first time I brought this issue up, she told me to just ask her to do them when they need doing, because she doesn't notice when dishes like up unless she actually runs out of dishes. Well, that doesn't fucking work. She still doesn't do them.
I actually gave her an ultimatum close to 2 months ago, things need to change or I'm moving out. Which basically makes her homeless, because I could maybe find something affordable on my own, but she can't. And I told her that I really don't want to have to do this, so please don't make me.
I've done dishes 4 times in the last two weeks. I knew she would be away this weekend, so I asked her to do some dishes on her day off midweek. She didn't. So I thought maybe she'd do them Saturday before she left. She didn't. This is what she left when she went away for the weekend:
You can't see it, but there were also dishes on the table, since the counter and stove were full.
She's coming gone tomorrow and leaving again on Saturday for two weeks for the holidays. I told her if there are any dishes on the counter when she leaves I'm giving the landlord my notice. Now she's trying to guilt trip me about making her homeless and I just don't give a fuck.
I LOVE this apartment. Love it. It's big, it's close to work, it's affordable, pets are allowed, it has a huge fenced yard for Yuki, there's a tonne of storage, there's free parking, everything is included in the rent, and I've painted it and fixed quite a few minor problems, but I can't live like this any more. I just can't.
Am I being unreasonable? I don't think I am but if you guys disagree please tell me. I'm not a clean freak, I don't ask her to dust and vacuum, I do that because my dog sheds more than both the cats. I clean the bathroom in exchange for her looking after the garbage. I can live with her inability to put things where they came from/where they belong, I just can't deal with not having clean dishes to eat off or free counter/table space to prepare food.
Bad night: waking up at 3 am to the sound of your dog vomiting.
Worse night: getting up to deal with it and stepping in a cold pile of vomit that you apparently slept through.
Then I got drawn into an argument with someone in a Facebook group. He broke the rules in a way that made it completely obvious that he hadn't read the rules, and when I said "oh for fucks sake, here's a link to the rules", he got super pissy about the fact that I swore. Best part? When one of the admins woke up and saw the post, her exact reaction was "for fuck's sake, not again".
Fri, Aug. 17th, 2012, 02:24 pm
My nephew/godson is two years old, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do as his godmother. I never had a godparent, so I have no experience with this. I bought him some cute kids books about bible stories and stuff when he was baptized, but there must be more to it than that. Are there any godparents here who can give me some advice?
Life is good right now. I have a great apartment & housemate, I love my job, and not only am I getting my finances under control, I'm almost starting to get ahead. Plus, there's a dog snoring on one side of me and a cat purring on the other :)
Kaylee (the aforementioned cat) is starting to settle in nicely. For anyone who doesn't know, around the end of April we got a new client at work who had found a mother cat with a litter of seven kittens, and was keeping them until she could find homes. She recently lost her job and already has a cat, so she isn't able to keep any herself. Momma Cat and the babies stayed with us for a weekend while their foster mom went out of town, and by the end of the weekend Momma had a collar, a new name, and a home. I brought her home 3 weeks ago, once the babies were old enough to go to new homes. She is a lovely brown tabby with bright green eyes and a purr that never stops. She was very underweight when I got her, her hair was sparse and falling out, her mammary glands were huge and swollen from nursing, and she had no muscle mass at all, all from the strain of nursing seven kittens when she is barely out of kittenhood herself. She has filled out now and is starting to build muscle, she is still shedding like crazy but her fur is softer and healthier looking, and her giant boobs are gone. She will be getting spayed and microchipped at work in another month, and we are also going to take out a badly broken canine tooth that has to be painful, though it hasn't slowed down her eating! I have never had a cat before, and never intended to have a female (male cats tend to have the more laid-back personality that I like), yet here I am with a little girl who I love dearly, even if she is a noisy food thief who wakes me up too damn early.
My housemate (Courtney) and I took our pups to Woofstock () yesterday, and had a great time. I bought a new brush for Yuki, who hates being groomed, but she actually sat still and let the rep brush her all over with this one. Maybe it's a gimmick, and it was a bit expensive, but if it means I can brush my dog without her trying to run away and hide, it's worth it to me. She is such a social little dog, events like Woofstock and the annual Vet Tech conference are a blast to take her to. She loves going new places and meeting people, and having her with me forces me to be more social than I would on my own. I love my girl, she can always make me laugh or smile, even when I'm in the pits of depression, and that's exactly what I need her to do.
I met up with a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel (Yuki's breed) breeder at Woofstock, whose blog I've been reading. This breed is very prone to two terrible health problems, mitral valve disease (which can lead to heart failure), and syringomyelia. Syringomyelia is a horribly painful condition in which the spinal cord presses on the brain. A dog can carry the disease without being affected, and the only way to tell if a dog is truly free or just asymptomatic is with an MRI. Yuki's parents were both certified SM free, with the highest rank possible on their MRIs. Unfortunately, this doesn't mean they aren't genetic carriers of the disease. But, Yuki is two years old and free of any signs of either MVD and SM. The breeder I met up with is working with the Provincial and National Cavalier clubs to research SM in Cavaliers. She is amazingly open in her blog about the health of her dogs (one, not bred by her and NOT a breeding dog) is affected by SM. She is going to get me in touch with the people doing the research to see if Yuki can be used as part of the project. I love this breed, and though I have absolutely no intention of ever breeding a dog I own, I would love to do my part in trying to improve the health of the breed.
And wow, I intended to write about what's new in my life and a bit more about my new housemate and apartment and such, but instead out came the vet tech babble.
I am moved into my new apartment, and I swear I am never moving again. At least, not until I can afford to hire movers so I can just stand back and say "that goes there". I can't find my bed sheets, my couch and my desk are broken, and at some point tonight I need to make a quick grocery store run, but at least I'm here.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.
Mon, Sep. 20th, 2010, 01:15 pm
Well, that's that. I knew it was a one in a million shot, but if that 0.0001% chance had been the end result, to me, that was worth all the risks, every minute of sorrow, every tear.
I don't want to hear about how I'm an idiot, or how he's an asshole, because maybe I am, but he isn't. To all the "friends" who've tried to defend me by talking badly about him, to his face and behind his back, I say "fuck off. I don't need defending, I can do it myself, this situation doesn't concern you, you don't know the details, and you're not helping." If I thought for one second that he got some sort of kick out of this, or that he could hurt me without hurting himself, you better believe I'd hurt him back. But he doesn't, and he can't.
He wants so badly to love me the way I love him. That's what it boils down to. This whole time he's been searching for gthe thing that will make him say "yes. That's it, that's why I love her," the thing that will make sure he never leaves or never wants to leave, no matter what may happen. When he told me that, all I could say is "it isn't something about you that makes me feel that way. It's not something you do, something between us, or something in our relationship. It's you." He cried when he said "I want to bad to be able to say that. I've tried so hard to feel that, and I just can't."
So before you go and try to cheer me up by talking shit about him to me, him, or anyone else, stop. Just don't. It's not his fault he feels the way he does, or that I feel the way I do, and as nice as it would be, it's impossible to make yourself feel otherwise. It's not that he doesn't love me, it's just not the same kind of love, and that's hurting him as much as it hurts me.
If you want to be the friends you've claimed to be, try actually being a friend. Not someone who tells me that they're here for me, and we'll still hang out, and never contacts me after that. I've tried. I've reached out this summer and made an effort to talk to people or to actually see people, and what have I got? One word answers to my questions, no response, or vague "yeah, we should do something sometime". When I say "I'm free X time and date", I get "I'm busy then", or "that might work" and then don't hear from them again. I'm done. I've accepted that we aren't friends anymore and maybe never really were and I've moved on. But for fuck's sake, if you call yourself Mike's friends, try actually being there for him. Maybe listen to him, and see how he's hurting, instead of telling him he's an asshole who just wants to hurt me. Try seeing his point of view, rather than spreading rumours behind his back about how he's been cheating on me (he hasn't.) If you really were his friends, you'd know he's not that guy. It's a very depressing place to be, when the girl you've just told that you don't love enough to be in a relationship with is the best/only friend you have.
Tue, May. 4th, 2010, 11:26 pm
Happy. Sad. A good friend. Adventurous. Shy. Confident. Procrastinating. A male. Bored. Anxious. Clumsy. Sociable. Always punctual. Selfish. Intelligent. Funny. A female. Sarcastic. Insecure. Sick. Beautiful. Articulate. Loud. Kind. Even tempered. Honest. Short. Tall. Medium height. Proud of myself. Loving. Witty. Down to earth. Outspoken. Determined. High-maintenance. Pretty. Assertive. Organized. Selfless. Awesome.
Brown hair. Brown Eyes. Blue Eyes. Curly hair. Long fingernails. Braces. Chipped nail polish. Long legs. Straight hair. A fringe. Long eyelashes. Sore feet. Freckles. Dark skin. Medium skin. Green eyes. Blonde hair. Dyed hair. Short legs. Red hair. Big boobs. Rosy cheeks. Wavy hair. Black hair. Small-ish waist. Tattoos. Piercings. Big ears. Short hair.
Flowers. Kisses. Summer. Coffee. The rain. Candles. Incense. Late night talk shows. Insects. Hugs. Attention. The beach. Chocolate. Music. Beanies. Harry Potter. Twilight. Facebook. Black and white photos. Sleeping in. Driving. Narrating my pet's thoughts. Opening gifts. Buying gifts. Halloween. Cute texts. Apples. Compliments. Country music. Hip hop. Sushi. Sports. Art. Singing. Seeing my loved ones happy. Surprises. Sunsets and sunrises. Skinny dipping. Horror movies. Simon Cowell. Family Guy. Garlic. Hearing somebody talk in their sleep. Being right. KFC. Abstract photography. Concerts and festivals. Tanning. Oversized t-shirts.
I WOULD LOVE TO BE A
Police officer. Lawyer. Doctor. Teacher. Fruit picker. Mother. Greenpeace volunteer. Hippie. Groupie. Rockstar. Footballer's wife. Therapist. Singer. Actress. Diving instructor. Lottery winner. Company owner. Housewife. Nurse. Builder. Race car driver. Website developer. An inspirational talker. Music teacher. Artist. Chef. Makeup artist. Hairdresser. Restaurant owner. Homeless shelter volunteer. Fitness trainer. Vet. Radio show host. Band manager.
I LIKE TO EAT
Fruit. Vegetables. Fast food. Sushi. In bed. Rice. Sandwiches. Subway. Chicken. Cakes. Seafood. A lot. Pasta. Rice crackers. When I'm bored. Cheese. Ice cream. Garlic bread. Peanut butter out of the jar. Eggs. Lots of ethnic foods. Pancakes. Honey. Lunch. Bread crusts. Low calorie foods. Soy products. Gluten free products. Only when I'm hungry. Toast. Breakfast. Pizza.
Cold mornings. Baths. People dissing my taste in music. People in front of me walking really slowly. Having my personal space invaded. Cleaning. Going to bed early. Wine/beer. Religion arguments. Coffee. The beach. Rain. Children. Having my photo taken. Drama. Gossiping. Hip hop. Cooking shows. Drugs. Cats. People singing happy birthday to me. Selfish people. Social networking sites. Swimming. Snow. Eminem. Seafood. One word text messages. Awkward silences. Alarm clocks. Hypocrites.