Kitrona

BPAL sent, I don't have alcohol, so BPAL will have to suffice. :/

"I can't believe I'm so fruity. I never thought I would be so fruity." - snowfox090 It made me laugh til I cried.

UGH. I am sick. My head feels like a huge, slightly dried-out ball of snot, and I need a shunt to get rid of the crud. This makes me cranky. Oh yeah, and happy whatever holiday. Hope it was tolerable. *shuffles off to infect someone*

(It's probably been said better elsewhere, too.) Just because you have the /right/ to say something doesn't always mean you /should/ say it. And freedom of speech or of the press doesn't mean that if others disagree with you, they're taking away your rights. They have a right to their opinion that what you said was distasteful or rude or flabbergastingly disgusting as a human being. This applies to more than one situation, although I'm sure everyone knows at least one situation where it applies in their lives. But saying something that could reasonably (or obviously) be considered rude and then being surprised or backtracking and saying you meant something else is not only even more rude, it's rather disingenious and makes the person saying it look like a complete idiot.

I HATE the apologies that aren't, too. "I'm sorry you can't handle it". Wait, YOU'RE apologizing for me supposedly misinterpreting what YOU said? No, not your right. You apologize for YOU! I am in a bitchy mood right now, but that's one of my buttons. "In other words, you're sorry that I won't cut you slack and let you be rude?" Ahh, I can dream. (I'd never have the guts to say that IRL.)

*throws balls of paper at your head, ducks as you return them with better accuracy!* <3 you. Can we skip to Thursday together?

I do the same thing, quite a lot. I've had people sneer at me when I say something because I don't have what they consider proper authority, and that just makes me see red. So because I'm just another person, you don't have to do the right thing? Argh. Still, at least I know I'm not the only one.

... and so far, it's not much better. Saturday was fine, but mostly because I slept all day. Sunday I slept quite a bit, but then I got in a fight with a friend over something that wasn't really his business, and which he did not ask for the full story before starting in on me and my best friend. Fortunately, it was solved, and she's FAR more tactful than I am, especially with still making up sleep and the unfairness of it all, so she did most of the talking while I fumed privately. And all is well now, but at the time I was ready to strangle something. Today I got woken up at 9 am to go get my son from school because he has pinkeye. I think it's some sort of allergy, myself, but then, the only form of conjuntivitis that I'm familiar with is when my contacts act up. I think I've got whatever it is he's got, but not quite as bad. Tomorrow he goes to the doctor. There are some good things going on, namely with finding someone who'll fight to find us a good mortgage, but it's overshadowed by a lot of uncertainty, some depression, and being so... frickin'... tired. And lack of money, can't forget that. Oy.

I agree with you all. Honest does not mean rude. I practically have a vow of honesty, but that doesn't mean I have to say everything that's on my mind. And even when I do, I try to be tactful. (I don't often succeed, but because of that, I tend to stay silent rather than say something that could offend.) And Ah Xia, that's one trick I do a lot. I'll type up a post, or a reply, or something, and then reread it, and if I think it's unnecessary or too harsh, I just don't post it. It makes me sad how many people take advantage of the anonymity provided. I'm reminded of something my dad always says: "Integrity (or character) is what you do when nobody's looking." I think "or when you're anonymous" could be added and be just as accurate.

I feel the need to detail everything that's gone wrong this week. Perhaps it will help to get it out. Monday: Cat started bleeding from her vagina. We took her to the vet, where we found out she needed an emergency c-section. Aside from the obvious stress from the thought that my cat might die, there was also the stress from the fact that it cost almost $400 when we had approximately $6 in the bank. We had to run $200 through as a credit and pray it didn't hit until Saturday, then write a post-dated check for Saturday for the rest. One kitten of the two left in her survived, plus the one she had had normally on Saturday. Total: two kittens. Also got a phone call from my son's school; he had an asthma attack. Husband called off from work because the car was acting weird. Tuesday: Had my first ultrasound. That was cool. But the kitten born on Monday by c-section died, despite lots of loving care and quite a bit of panic. She now resides in our freezer, waiting to be enbalmed and mummified. (Yes. I am mummifying the kitten. With the help of my husband and best friend. It comforts me.) Another phone call from the school; another asthma attack. Wednesday: A friend was dismayed that plans we'd made long ago, before I found out I was pregnant, before we decided we needed a house, were changed, even though circumstances have radically changed since then. Said friend tried to push me into going by making promises about paying for me, despite lack of followthrough on at least two other promises, and didn't understand why I was reluctant to accept. Another call from the school; kidling smelled like cat pee because he does not shower regularly nor hang up his school clothes. Also, husband took in the car to find out why it's been acting weird and found out that both rear boots were rusted to uselessness, we've effectively had NO brakes approximately since we bought the car, and the master cylinder needed replacing. One of the boots shattered when the car was being inspected, and thus HAD to be replaced. They cut him a bit of a deal, but that was another $250 we had to charge. Thursday: Psych appointment. Also husband calling off from work again to take the car in so the master cylinder could be replaced. Also called off kidling from school to take him to the doctor. My appointment was at 11:30, half an hour away. Turns out they were waiting to get the part, and it would be in at 10 am at the earliest. Thus, they would be done with the car at 1 pm at the earliest. The earliest I could reschedule for was next Thursday. That would not work. The CarX guy.... loaned my husband the store van. We got there late, but the psych still saw us. Yay! She is very good and I feel safe in her metaphorical hands. Dr. Vijay. She doesn't prescribe antidepressants during the first trimester, but I see her again in a month. In the meantime, I have an appointment with a therapist next week. I'm looking forward to it; that should help, at least some. When we went back to CarX, we waited what seemed like forever, because when they bled the brake lines, one shattered, plus one of the taillights shattered as well. Or something like that. In any case, a bunch of things went wrong that made it take forever. But we finally got the car back... only to find it ran weird still. But we could stop!! Took kidling to the doctor, waited forever, witnessed a woman who seemed like a stereotypical lesbian and/or redneck (the bad stereotypes, unfortunately, including bad mullet) having an attitude and preparing to throw a fit. That was fun. But we got prescriptions for the kidling. Today: I got woken up by a call from the ob, which I accidentally hung up on because the cordless phone needs a new battery. When I called back, I found out I am not allowed to have sex for at least a month because he saw implantation bleeding on my ultrasound. So in a month I get to go back and have another ultrasound. Also figured out that I don't have enough energy to deal with my life, much less any of my friends' lives, so I seem destined to either piss them off or fall by the wayside in their lives. Got the kidling's medications, at $60 total for 3 of them. When we have less than nothing in the bank. So that's more stress. ....... can I have a day or two to catch my breath, please?

Yay! Welcome to blog island!

Radio silence on channel Kitrona for a while. Too much going on, not enough energy to deal with it and still manage to be tactful. Saturn return can stop fucking with my life now, plskthx.

RIP Berenice (Berry) February 5, 2007 - February 6, 2007 My husband said true that it never gets any easier. I love you, Berry, and I'll miss you, even though you were only around for 24 hours. Be safe and happy on the other side with your brother....

Exciting day yesterday. I would've posted earlier, but I was completely exhausted. Cleo had to go to the vet and get a c-section. Ack, brb... tell you the story after I give her her meds. There, done. So Cleo had Baxter on Saturday, but she was still lumpy. Still, she wasn't acting too funny, so we figured she was just taking a while to get the other(s) out. Well, she was, but the problem was that one of the kittens was too big. Woke up yesterday to bloody discharge from her, so we ran her to the vet, where they x-rayed her and found the large kitten. She needed a c-section, obviously, so they did it (and spayed her at the same time). But wait! There were TWO kittens still in there! And they managed to save one! Unfortunately, the little boy was the one that couldn't be saved. I've named him George, since for the little bit of time he was fighting for life I loved him. Stupid as it may sound, I've cried for him. The others are, um, both girls. Yes, even Baxter, who has been renamed Beatrix, but still Bax for short. The other is Berenice, Berry for short. Bax looks like Cleo, same markings and everything, and Berry looks like Keon. Sounds like him, too... they both got major lung power! Pictures? Why, yes, I do have pictures! http://pics.livejournal.com/stabbitydeath/gallery/0000cse8 Today I got my first ultrasound done. I'm 8 weeks, 5 months according to the measurements... and according to the due date calculator. How odd. Here's the ultrasound. http://pics.livejournal.com/stabbitydeath/pic/000122wd Oh, I also turned in my application for the pool locker room attendant. Easy job, decent pay (really good pay for what I'll do, actually), and it's while Alex is in school. I put I want about 25 hours a week, which I think is acceptable... I don't want to work when Mar's off if I can avoid it. So I hope I get it. Yay, BPAL money! And now I have a kitten in my cleavage. Berry gets cold... I think she's more fragile than Bax, understandably, and every time Cleo leaves, despite the fact that they're by the heater, Berry cries.

Where can I sign up to be an Auntie Mame??? That sounds like it would be the most fun thing ever, and it would benefit everyone! So, universe, have I sold you on this concept yet? Me and Goth Hobbit as Auntie Mames? Pleeeeeeeeease?

Our female cat was pregnant. Well, she still is, kind of, because she's still lumpy, but we have one kitten born! And she was a champ... I didn't even know she was in labor. My son woke me up by crashing through the bedroom door (not literally) and yelling, "Cleo's got a kitten!" He's adorable, mostly gray with a little white. And he is Snowy's, so she named him Baxter. I now have kitten smell on my hand, because he was born under the couch and that is not a safe place for him. And he smells like a newborn baby. I SO want Beth to make Newborn Kitten BPAL.

I do the same thing, not going much of anywhere and not having opportunity to meet people. I'm also like valentina in that I don't get along with my sister, so I've had to find folks online who are my family. (I like to think I've done pretty well there... I've got a "brother" and a "sister" and some "cousins".) It's nice to know I'm not the only one who has this problem, though.

Had some major frustrations and less-major disappointments today, so for a while, I will be observing rather than participating.

It is. Thank you. I just get in these moods where I still read everything, I just can't or don't post.

Oh, that garment sounds gorgeous, even if I can't quite picture it... just the colors sound amazing!

I feel similarly about my grandparents' old house. It had history, our family's history, even though they didn't build it or anything. I dream about it consistently, and far more often than I dream of the only other house I had close association with, the house I essentially grew up in. When they died, the only thing I was heartbroken about was the house. They had been "gone" for a few years already, having Alzheimer's and various strokes, so there was no loss there, just a feeling of relief for them. But the house.... well, I wasn't in a place to be able to afford it, let alone move there and fix it up, so it had to be sold. And truthfully, I am glad that the folks that bought it are fixing it up. Last time I was in the area, I made my husband drive by it, just to see, and it looks wonderful with a new coat of paint and the trim all fixed up. I wanted to knock on the door and ask if I could look around, but I felt odd. Still, there is part of me that will... oh, "mourn" sounds so silly in regards to a house, but I do mourn it, or rather, I mourn that I can no longer go there and enjoy the house. Even the hideous wall mural that my grandfather insisted on putting in the living room. It's odd, but I just realized that I seem to connect far more strongly with places than with people. The friendships I've lost, I am sad about, but this house, that I never actually lived in, brings tears to my eyes. I wonder if that says something about me. I agree with your last sentence completely. Even if I had gotten the house and redecorated it, it still would have stayed "the same" to me. Perhaps that's what I mourn.

All I have to say is: Oy! And that you're in a sticky spot. (As if you didn't know that.) Hope it works out... keep us updated, please?

I am so tired of people lying to themselves and others over silly, petty little things. Someone mentioned that you can post in the "how are you feeling" thread and pretty much always get support, but it's rather amusing to me that my experience is almost the exact opposite. I have to be extremely melodramatic to even get noticed, and my offers of support, and those of my friends, tend to get ignored. I know it's a big forum, with lots of people, but if only two of those people have responded in any way to your post, is it not simple courtesy to respond to them BOTH? I am not picking on anyone in particular here. This is something I have noticed over a span of time. And to use examples of my own, which is all I feel I can ethically do, I posted in that thread that I felt "Distant". One word. Ok, easy to miss, I guess. I got no responses at all. Then a few hours later I posted "Discouraged, alone, depressed, and invisible." Direct quote. To that, I got three responses. It just seems like there are certain people who get more attention in that thread, and on the board as a whole, than others. I understand that people have cliques and all, but it seems odd to me that despite the reality of this, people seem to think that everyone's treated equally. I have been having some very serious emotional problems, to the tune of semi-regular breakdowns. These do not look to be ending any time soon unless I can get back on my anti-depressants, which I was wisely taken off of when my regular doctor found out I was pregnant. The obstetrician has more knowledge of these things. Until then, however, I tend to devolve into a sobbing mess roughly every three to four weeks. But because I choose not to tell approximately 6000 people every detail of my life, because I assume (probably rightly) that it will bore them, because I choose to mention only the barest details when it is the worst, I get shoved to the back while those who choose to make their lives public to the last detail, they get what appears to be 100% support, although in many cases, it is not. Perhaps I'm being petty. Perhaps it's the hormones talking. Or perhaps, just perhaps, I get tired of seeing myself and my friends, who really could use a few encouraging words now and again, to whom knowing that we've inspired kind feelings in someone we've never met would make a huge difference, shoved to the back of the "room" and ignored in favor of those who prefer their lives to be full of great drama, whether acknowledged conciously or not. Perhaps it's something to think about. And perhaps five people will read this. I know my blog is not as widely followed as some, and five is the upper limit of my expectations. But then, I suppose since we as a society focus on those who provide drama, it shouldn't be so surprising that the same thing would happen in our private lives. Or perhaps I'm just an idealist.

*nods* I just get frustrated, and if I don't express it, things go downhill really quickly. But I appreciate that you get it. It's nice to know I'm not the only one.

I think it did...