Is it bad when Christmas music causes you to start hyperventilating?...
I've hit the classic "when it rains..." December again this year. Work's been no joy, mother-unit's been screaming, I'm behind on pressies (that I needed to have done YESTERDAY), I might need to give the father-unit an "IOU" again this year (I'm sick of disappointing him), and Emilie has an inoperable tumor on her rear that's big enough to be another rat (anyone have naming ideas?).
It's probly just the season, but I'm having a hard time getting Clarence* and Melvin** to shut up. And insulting them hasn't been working lately. Good thing I'm seeing the shrink today...
Time to give Emi her cortisone. I think I'm gonna give her some pear, too, today.
* I named my depression
** And my anxiety disorder
I've noticed, in my dreams, I'm usually a child. Not necessarily a small child, but nearly always under the age of sixteen. Now, the question is, is my subconscious just keeping me aware of my role, or is it telling me to grow the fuck up?
Who are you when you dream?
Having trouble concentrating... thinking's hard right now. They always have the TV on way too loud.
Emilie has a tumor above her tail. On Friday, I noticed she was walking around funny. I felt above her tail, and found a lump. I had dad feal around there, too, but he didn't notice anything, so I left it alone. She kept walking funny throughout the weekend, and on Sunday, the lump felt harder. I took her to the vet yesterday afternoon, and the vet confirmed that it was a tumor, but at this time, removing it would be more trouble for her than just leaving it (not what I wanted to hear).
It could definitely be worse. Emi's 3 and this is the first tumor we've encountered with her. In fact this is the first tumor we've encountered with any of the rats. It's also benign and not in any of her internal organs. It's just hard to watch her moving the way she does. Walking with the front legs, waddling and paddling with the back. She used to be the resiliant one. Anything that Willow or Alice got never affected her. And now she's falling apart. It's heartbreaking.
I start work early tomorrow. Should get to bed soon.
Last night, I was hanging out with one of my coworkers and she asked me what I was going to do next with my hair. I told her I was probably going to continue with the red tips until they got trimmed out, but I wasn't sure what I was going to do after that.
I got an idea in the shower this morning (isn't that where all the best ideas come from?). I'm gonna go with shoulder-length hair with either magenta or indigo in the front half of my head. Magenta is more likely, since I don't think I want to bleach my hair completely white in order for the blue to take.
When talking with some people about hair color, they tell me that the reason they don't dye is because they like their natural color. I respect their opinions. For me though, it isn't about liking my hair color. I do like my natural color (and it took me a long time to get to that point). For me, I grew up watching cartoons where the characters' hair was candy colored and I have always wanted to do that with mine.
I wasn't allowed to dye my hair when I was in grade school. My parents were against anything they thought would distract me from school and music. I tried once, dying it black right before ninth grade. They made me wash my hair everyday, and I was grounded until the black came out.
My first real foray into color was in the spring of 2005. I got a special streaking kit in purple, and father-unit set up an appointment with his hair dresser for me to get my bangs colored (he didn't want me to stain the bathtub). That poor lady was freaked out, but she did the job, and I loved it. I kept it for about a year, though I was real lazy on the upkeep. I let it fade to pinkish blond more than once. Then, for a short time, I tried to bring it back to normal, and died the streaks brown again. My hair wasn't too happy about that, and it came out in only a few washings, leaving me with yellowish blond streaks with three-inch long roots.
It wasn't until last March when I went about fixing the grossness. This time I went to a place where the stylists all had funky hair themselves, so I knew they'd do a good job. It took forever, but after all the bleaching and dying and cutting was done, I had hair that was shoulder-length in the front, that tapered to almost mid-back, with two-inch crayon red tips.
That brings us up to today. As for future plans, I would like to keep experimenting while I can. I know at some point, I need to get a "real" job, where dress codes will prevent me from having locks in any "unnatural" hues. But for now, I want to have fun.
I have forgotten how to read. I haven't been able to finish a book in at least three years. I don't know if it's anxiety or ADD or my home (a house made of cardboard boxes and bad moods is terrible feng shui). All that is certain is that reading has become an impossible chore. Lately, I've been lucky if I can finish a chapter in one sitting without losing it.
Reading used to be my favorite thing to do. I used to stay up until 2:00 or 3:00 every night engulfed in whatever I had checked out from the school library. My favorite genres were fantasy and horror, but I picked up anything I found interesting.
Then, somewhere in the middle of high school, I just stopped. Homework, depression, the internet, I'm not entirely sure what triggered it. But, from that point on, I couldn't do it anymore. The last thing I'm positive I finished was Night, by Elie Wiesel, for Senior Lit class.
I miss it. I miss the ability to get lost in a novel. To turn words into images into worlds. To finish what I start. Without headaches or distractions.
This needs to be fixed. I'm gonna try a change of scenery first. I live a couple of blocks from a public library. If I want snacks, I can hit the coffee shop. If that doesn't work, I don't know what to do. I want to learn to read again. It used to be such a big part of me.
"Pokinoï dji noch predo
Ostinyi du brach tivo
Vaganai tu majgadi
Ich kara ku darta nyi"
Tonight I'm grateful I could have fun with my friend. I'm grateful that I made him feel better. And I'm grateful that I got to show him what "raqs love" is.
To my "brother," Mokey: CLOUD HAIR!!!!!!
My wings change color. They can be a brilliant white or a striking black. Mostly, though, they're gray. Gray, thin, and long. I look like a mutant seagull.
My wings are white right now, but I feel so gray inside. It's odd they don't match, because they usually do.
I know I should happy right now. For the first time in a long while, I know I have real friends, and I finally got it through my thick "fixed" skull that people really do care about me.
However, I also know that in only a few years, I will transform into a monster, and I will betray any ties I have.
But that's a long time from now, and I can't be a hermit.
But I also can't let the people I love die.
And my protector's currently living in a stuffed bunny.
I should stop thinking about this, at least for right now.