Doc is asleep. He works at 3 in the morning. He'll be up for fireworks and champers at midnight. Which reminds me, I have to pick a bottle to put in to chill. Someone gave us several bottles of various price points and deliciousness. And I'm actually in the mood to get drunk tonight. I'm contemplating making myself a cocktail. How long has it been since you heard me say that? Was the infamous Vodka Night this year or last? I can't remember.
We really didn't accomplish anything. We kept our heads above water. I guess that, for poverty level, is an accomplishment in itself.
Our neighbors were getting rid of a dinette set. B and J have a card table that they eat off of. So we figured it would be a great xmas present. Doc went over to consult about the logistics of getting it over there, and J was very excited about it. Then B came in and insisted that they were moving to a smaller place for a couple of months and then moving to florida and didn't need anymore furniture. J was heartbroken. When Doc went over yesterday, B said nothing about moving or the dinette set. No it's too late, the garbage men have taken it.
I feel o bad for J. Supporting a family of three on a Walmart paycheck. Not even full time. And a husband who would rather relive and relive his glory days of racing BMX bikes than go get a job. And what of the scooter that Doc paid $300 for and then another $200 in parts for? B is driving it around and blowing Doc off on fixing it. So basically, B got Doc to buy him a scooter. I am so mad over this I can't even talk to Doc about it. He can't do anything about it, and I don't want to push anger on him for something he can't control.
The last two months have brought me a lot of exposure for a few of my video/spoken word things. Still NO feedback on any of it. But people are watching, and, I assume, reading the text of the pieces. The silence I get back from my audience is deafening. It always has been. I assume I'm no good because of it. I think in 2015 I'm just going to assume I'm awesome and people are so blown away by my work that they can't find words.
My resolution is to get shit done this year. I've worked out my medication balance, and I'm ready to go back to work. Editing and recording and producing more videos and finishing my and Kelli's website redesigns. Publish a couple of books. Keep working to find a cost efficient way to produce a photo book with pics from the cat cam.
Doc is talking about wiping and restoring the laptop. He doesn't get what a hassle that would be. My software has to go onto the machine in a certain order that I'm not quite sure I remember. And everything would have to be set up again, passwords, preferences, ugh. I'd like to not have any hardware issues this year.
This year we will get all the cats in for a checkup and get Freddie's microchip number so I can properly register her with the rescue service. Our fees just for that are around $200 for all the cats and the dog. Boomer is covered for the next year automatically by the shelter as part of her adoption package. She is also registered with Google for her GPS chip for a year. They all need new Rabies tags, except Boomer. I also have to get a Cat Fancier's Permit from the county to legally have the bunch of them. That is this year's priority.
2014 was weird. It started out with email exchanges with my "younger brother", I'm still not convinced that was him; a visit to the local hospital where my nana kept having strokes, and then having her taken away from me at the hospital so I couldn't go see her, by my parents, of course. Who I didn't hear from the rest of the year. I think I'm family free. Except for my cousin in the Bay Area who I exchange quips with on Facebook, but I've never met her or anything. She doesn't speak to her father, my uncle (the same one Doc almost came to blows with New Year's Day, 2000 because he was being a cocksccratch). So we just float around, making our own families. It's easier when your family has so much baggage. Funny thing, Teneal, my cousin, was always creeped out by my dad. Same thing I've heard from every young woman who has ever come into contact with him. And she's a relative, he has absolutely no fucking shame at all.
I don't know if I' going to mess with trying to grow things in the back yard this year. I may just stick silk flowers in all the flower pots. I have a big box of silk flowers, it can be done. I think the death of everything really took it out of me last summer and just put this sheet of hopeless failure over me for the rest of the year. It's only been two months that I've been willing to stay awake during the day.
The meds have really helped. Knowing my doctor really has my back has helped. Finally trusting Doc with my life has also really helped. It only took me 17 years. This year, in three days, we celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. I doubt we'll be celebrating. Doc doesn't like to be reminded how long we've been together and how far we've not gotten.
We were talking about the Rodeo (truck) we bought before we moved in here. It is what enabled us to find this place and make the arrangements to live here, and get rid of Mike. It was a $3000 investment and it just sits there. If you pretend it's a manual and shift as you drive, it drives fine, it just doesn't change gears automatically. And it needs a new battery. We could use it if we had to. But there is no way we are going to be able to get our money back out of it. But I told Doc last night, we've gotten its value out of it. It got us out of that horrid apartment and in here and away from Mike. It totally improved our lives, and we only drove it for three months. I don't even want to think of where I would be mentally if we had kept Mike around. Or if we had stayed in that apartment any longer. We got our money's worth out of that Rodeo.
Then there's the big-ass truck. It was low on transmission fluid, therein is the problem we had when Doc was driving it on the freeway. It got overheated, and that is where the smoke came from. We let it cool down and it was fine, showing us no permanent damage had been done. Doc drove it to work last night. He said it backfired a couple of times, but other than that, had no problems. It's supposed to be 20 something tonight, but the big-ass truck isn't technically legal, so he's not driving it tonight, too many cops out. He's taking the scooter and has scheduled stops along the way to warm up.
Okay, that "Say Something" song, not meant for consumption by the melancholy.
If I didn't know any better, I would say that Cox is throttling our bandwidth. Our internet has been really slow for the past few days. Wile they are advertising the fastest internet speeds in the country. I guess you have to pay extra for it. Is this what the loss of Net Neutrality is going to be like? What a horror show.
I should be working on my campaign against that Glicklich fellow, but it's a holiday. It is my position that the person using his name and image on Twitter is not the actual Brian Glicklich. The actual BG is actually a competent, intelligent, well spoken professional. The person on twitter is lower than a common troll, in intelligence, wit and professionalism. So there is a lie of some magnitude to uncover. And does the real BG know that his name is being dragged through the mud on twitter? Does Rush know that this is going on? And what 14 year old is handling BG's twitter account so badly? Argh, I wish I could hack. Just enough to d0x the twitter user. I'm not that interested in BG, as I am convinced that we #stoprush tweeple are not really dealing with him. But really, this could ruin Rush. Really pound the nails into his coffin. If he's using stupid kids as "PR Specialists" to attack online activists, that's something spectacularly stupid, PR wise.
Oh wow, I really don't need to hear this song. But of course I can't change it any more than I ever can. Rush - "Bravado" Something about this song . . . I don't even like Rush. They're Canadian. Canadians can't rock. And the lead singer scares me. His face is too sharp. But there is something about this song that physically pulls at my heart thing. And the lyrics are, well, spectacularly insightful.
Boomer has finally assimilated. She and Felix were sitting on the feeding cabinet together, and there was no hissing or growling. She was on my lap and allowed me to pet Major. She guards LeLu when she is eating her special food, Boomer slaps any other cat that gets near. And doesn't even take her reward of a few bites of the food when LeLu is done. She doesn't hide anymore. General cat hiding under chairs and tables, sure, but no super hiding in closets and cabinets and under giant Pooh dolls. She doesn't meow as much anymore, now that she doesn't feel the need to talk to me all the time. She's actually meowed back at Major. Which surprised him, the other cats just look at him when he meows at them, she will answer him.
Chewy didn't get a walk today, and he won't go outside. So I am prepared to find a pile of poopy in my room tomorrow morning. Into every dog owner's life, a little shit must pile. Holy shit, it's been two hours since I sipped my coffee, hit this bowl or smoked a cigarette. Or uncurled my legs, for that matter. Boomer was on my lap for about a half hour, then Major for another half hour, and I've been writing in here or an hour. We're at 1760 words. I could so write articles for Salon.
I have had a recent influx of journalists and psych organizations with journals following me on twitter. the thing with BG actually made the headline on a mental health daily web publication. It's going to take me until I' 50 to get discovered and by then it's going to be awfully hard to pull of the angry punk rock chick thing. But I'll do it, because that's what I am. And will always be. I will never be a safe 8 year old. I will never be the lead singer of a punk band. But I will always be an angry punk rock chick.