Am I making something worthwhile out of this place?

I've been neglecting this thing again.

I sometimes feel that I'm living in some bizarro world. I never get anything done. But I'm always doing something.  A lot of times, though, that 'something' isn't anything truly productive. I keep thinking that I'll get time, but I don't make time. For what? Oh, I don't know... reading? Is that productive? Household chores? Boring, but necessary. I guess I do a lot of socializing. That can't be too bad, I suppose. It's often with the same folks; I love them, but I'm not really branching out. Not meeting any new interesting people. And I have let some other more long-standing friendships fall by the wayside. Then it comes down to that I know a lot of people, but only superficially.

Musings about your personal connections/contributions to the world and to the other people down in the muck with you generally come from some major event. Sometimes it can cause great grief to try and reshape one's philosophy after Something Has Changed... sometimes you get lucky and it comes along easily in one of those fabled "Eureka!" moments. I say fabled, as this doesn't usually seem to be the case. Sometimes you can only ponder on it and take the wait-and-see approach to determine if you will react differently the next time a particular situation presents itself.

There was such an event a couple weeks ago. I was only peripherally effected by the event itself, but the fallout has wormed its way through that outer layer to get to me more personally, and to prompt some reevaluation. Long story short: A shooting in Midtown Atlanta claimed the life of a young woman with both bright soul and bright future. She was in that stage of life where you really are just embarking on Bigger Things. She and her husband had only recently moved back to Atlanta, and had just become homeowners. At 26, she had been out in the Real World for long enough to know what is going on, but not long enough to have lost the ability to be optimistic and idealistic about where life was taking her. I had only met her once, but she was literal family to one coworker of mine, and figurative family to many others at Terrapin. While those "don't take life for granted you never know when it'll be gone/life's too short/yadayada" adages are of course appropriate and definitely part of this whole thinking on things because, well, they're true, I was more influenced by what this event did to people I care about. Seeing, yet not being able to truly understand, the level of devastation they felt was heartbreaking to me. I felt sick knowing that there were people I cared about who were hurting. I'm no good at dealing with other peoples' pain. I empathize entirely too much. I think that's a good thing. But what destroys me is that I can't fix what is destroying them.

But yes, all this has made me think. I've said many times that I know I am really good at shutting myself off from everything. I'm good at maintaining an arm's length between me and everyone I know. I'm too good at protecting myself from The Worst, and in the meantime that keeps me from getting to have a piece of The Best. This stems partially from that same fear of rejection in all of us; if someone actually knows you, they have enough information to determine if you make the cut or not. If they only know a few things, and for the most part you're a fairly decent person and not a raging asshole, then even if you don't make varsity you still get to sit on the bench with the team every now and then, maybe bring them water. No's almost always sting; Maybe's are not so bad.

Here's the thing, though. What if something happened to me tomorrow? Yeah, yeah, I know... But really, what would the outcome be? I should hope that there would be at least a few people to mourn me; drifting away unnoticed is also a basic human fear. But there is a difference- would everyone I know here be sad for a minute and then go back to normal? Or would there be some who would miss me and think of me for years to come? Have I made at least a small contribution to the life of another? Would the people I care about know how I loved them if I was suddenly gone and couldn't tell them? And what would people say about me later? If asked to say an eulogy for me, would anyone know where to start or have something of value to say outside of the few things everyone knows about me? Have I made a permanent impression on anyone and allowed them to do the same by opening up? If not, why? Because I keep myself at a healthy little distance, you know, just in case? How sad.

Last weekend a friend who's got about 10 years, a marriage, three kids, and his own business on me and I were sitting by a fire. We were talking about things like the above; how what had happened had made him want to get closer to people. Then out of nowhere, he said "Can I ask you a weird question?" Naturally I make a joke, saying "Depends on the question...". Then he asks me, "Do you ever get tired of being... of being... free?" I immediately understood that he didn't mean in the literal "America's A Free Country" sense. He was asking if I ever grew weary of my "free" lifestyle; yeah, I got a 9-5, but other than that I have no one to answer to, except three cats to feed. I get to do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. Because I'm free. I can go out drinking every night, or turn off my phone and sit on my porch with a book. It's all up to me. I can hang out with people, or stay in by myself. It's the life a lot of people miss and say to take it while you can. He was asking because it's been a minute since he had that; he's not trapped by any means and loves what he has, but he does have responsibilities that must be attended to before playtime. But I have my freedom.

I thought on it for a second, and I realize now I didn't actually answer his question. I told him that it's just the way things are for me now, though this was never really my plan. I didn't have a plan, but I wasn't purposely trying to still be "free" at 30. I did believe in the past that I would be somewhere entirely different than where I am now. I told him it can get tiring sometimes, because when you're "free" and know other "free" people, it's hard to give them a viable excuse for not living up to your "free" lifestyle every night. Because they know that there's nothing else for you to do, may as well go out. I made a joke about it being expensive; going out costs money. I just said that while I did always envision that I'd be doing something else at this point, I'm not, so why not just enjoy it? I basically said "I'm not tired of it, but I'm not not tired of it, either" or more succinctly, "Meh".

The part I left out though... is that in ways, I am tired of it. With my "freedom", I come home to an empty apartment every day. I have no one to call and check up on me, no one to call and check up on. I have no one to share dinner at home with, or to cook for (maybe that's a good thing...), or to cook for me, or just get pizza with. There's no one here to sit on the couch and watch shitty movies with. There's no one to talk to late at night, or early in the morning, or on the weekends. Or to sit with on the porch drinking wine and reading books in silence. There's no one to get annoyed with about the dishes or laundry or empty toilet paper roll, or to annoy with me leaving my shoes all over the house. There's no one to bring me juice when I'm sick, and no one asking me to give them a back-scratch. Freedom reaches a point where it's actually just lonely. I don't view myself so much as "free" as I do "alone" anymore. That part- the lonely part... Yes. I'm tired of it.

This Little Piggy Went To Market

Ewww, Facebook. Seriously??

You really do have me all wrong.

P.S. If you do a Google search for "This Little Piggy" (hey now, it's been a while; I wanted to be sure I was right), you will find a fairly detailed Wikipedia page. Someone had too much time on their, uh... feet...

Just realized it's a month past my half-birthday.

Today is Sunday. I really wish it were Saturday instead; I feel as if I missed this whole weekend. Felt crappy on Friday, and missed the day. Felt somewhat better on Saturday, but slept late and spent my few free hours watching episodes of "Rome". Then worked the tour. And kinda worked a coworker's wedding/reception at the brewery. It was only supposed to be the reception, but their ceremony got rained out so they did it there. Super-cute. Then left from that early to play a show at 40 Watt. Too many PBRs. So today was wasted in recovery mode.

Joe is not better. Not really worse, but no improvement. He's losing weight, and I'm now having to syringe feed him since he stopped eating. He hates it, but is tolerant as usual. He sometimes will act really interested in something I have; I will give him a piece and he'll lick at it, but won't actually eat it. I need to take him in for some fluids since he won't drink that much either. He did develop a lot of nasal discharge, and on recheck it was thought that it could be viral in nature. But my other two cats are fine. He's not snotty anymore really, just a little from one side, but is still really snorty. I am guessing he's lost between 2-3 pounds. My scale isn't that accurate. The poor guy. I think it's time I tried something else. I was hoping it was just a weird little illness that would clear up with some time and antibiotics, but signs are now pointing elsewhere. I've never been able to feel his spine the way I can now. He's still cuddly. Curls up with me every night like always. It's hard for me to imagine that there is a chance I won't get that much longer.

I may be vehicular again soon. My neighbor is getting a car for his birthday, so he's going to let me have his for pretty cheap. And he's going to let my pay in installments. Which is awesome. Not a cool car, for sure. But it's got tires and an engine that runs most of the time...

More later. Been reading a lot, and honestly this laptop is making my lap hot. Since it is in fact sitting on my lap. I think I will have some ice cream. Or some root beer. I should drink water... but bah.

And the storm continues...

In my last rant of a post I went on about the damn broken phone, and the tossing of cats in my direction, and the vet visit that stole that decanter from me... were it a normal person, that would have been the extent of the crap. But it's me. So now there's more. Here's the update.

Still got a broke-ass phone. Contacted all parties, and was denied by each. LG said I can send it back to be looked over by their technicians, and then they'll know how much repair costs. WireFly said "Fuck you. Call them". T-Mobile said "Fuck you, but you have insurance. Call them.". Odd... nowhere on my account can I find what they call the PHP Bundle- Premium Handset Protection. But she said I have it. However... it's through a company called Asurion, and what you do is file a claim with them, and if you've paid your $5.99 a month they accept that claim. Then they charge you your deductible (in my case, $130), and send you a new phone. OR they can send you a refurbished phone. OR if they don't have the phone you claimed, they will send you something similar. So, even with this so-called 'insurance', there's a chance that I'll end up with a refurbished G1 or something. I'm not really cool with that. They have a lawsuit going on in California against them- they were sending people phones that were not the models they claimed, and were refurbished, and that were worth less than the deductible. Shady... Not so happy with T-Mobile for working with such a scammy company.

So then next morning, I went into work, still bummed about the phone. And that Joe wasn't any better. On Wednesday, I had left a glass on my desk with about an inch of water left in the bottom. The office cat had knocked that glass over. Right onto the keyboard of my work laptop. It was off, but plugged in at the time. We left it open, and are hoping with a few days to dry out it'll come back to life.

So Thursday was crappy. Then I get home, and Joe is worse. He sounded completely congested, though there isn't any snot. Up until then, he didn't act sick at all- was his normal self. But when I got home, he didn't meet me at the door. He was laying under a table, all lethargic and pathetic and snorty. I took him back to the vet Friday morning. And he sent me to UGA emergency. I can't afford them. When they work up a case, they go for all the fancy equipment they have- and it's awesome they have it- but I don't have the fancy dollars to go with it. They have no payment plans, and actually charge 50% of the estimate (they come up with an estimate when you admit your animal, before they even know what's wrong) up front. No deposit, no vet care. Their estimate= 1500-3500 bucks.

So before I take him I check my checking account- I figure I probably have about $200 or so 'extra' (hardly- just not going directly to bills. Also now not going toward eating) dollars in there. EXCEPT that I had set up an online payment for my student loans a couple weeks ago. That was supposed to be $50. It went through, but the withdrew all $250 of my current balance. I am on forbearance, so I don't have to pay anything- I was just trying to get ahead. I freaked and called and they said "Sorry, can't reverse the charge." All they can do is process a refund and if I'm approved, they send me a paper check in 3-4 weeks. Shit shit shit.

I also had about 300 in a savings account I haven't touched in a while. I immediately set up a transfer for that. I called my dad. But he doesn't think of pets the same way I do. And is out of touch with what vet care costs these days. He might send me something. We'll see. He thought if it was going to be more than 200-300 bucks I should just euthanize him. I have about $100 left of my credit limit on my Discover card. So I'm working with limited funding here.

Anyway, I take him in. They rush him off, put him on oxygen. Then after a bit they come and get a history. Then talk about what they want to do. Here is where I have to say "I'm a shitty human and can't hand you 3K all at once to fix my baby" and I feel like they're judging me because of that. (Not in the way the student and doctor spoke with me- they were nice. But I've been backstage there- I did 25 weeks of interning there, and I've heard the way some of the doctors talk about owners with limited financial means. Basically "they have no business owning a pet if they can't pay for this stuff". Shit. Most people can't pay for that stuff for themselves).  So they try to keep things to a minimum to start with. I leave him there. They anesthetize him and do a visual airway exam. They didn't see any masses, but found that his vocal folds were greyish instead of pink, so they did a swab and found a lot of inflammatory cells there. Bloodwork is normal. Temperature and heart rate are normal. Lungs sound fine, but they did note it was hard to hear over his snorting. They called me and said it could be an infection causing the folds to inflame and close up. They suggested trying antibiotic and steroid therapy to see if that's the cause. They asked if I wanted him to stay overnight; I said yes because I wanted him to be there should it escalate quickly and I don't have a car.

I picked him up yesterday morning, and he seemed much better. I get home, and when he starts moving around it's right back to the way it was. He's trying to eat, but I think it makes it hard for him to breathe so he doesn't take more than a few bites. I tried wet food, but he has already shown his distaste for the food I bought for them (Organic red tuna and shredded chicken?? HOW DARE I?? Haha!). I tried some regular old Friskies wet food. No dice. I think he can't really sleep, because the angle of his head determines how easy it is to breathe. I know he was up most of the night, just laying there next to me. I'm really frustrated. It's sad to be so helpless while I know he feels awful.

I'm going to do what I have to to help him. I won't fight a losing fight- if it ends up being something with a poor prognosis, well, I'll deal with that when I have to. But I at least want to know what's wrong. What if it's just a foreign body in his sinus cavity? Or a benign mass just past his pharynx that's easily removed? I can't stand the idea of euthanizing him only to find that he would have been fine had I known what the cause of all this was. I have a few things I can sell- nothing of value except a decent clarinet I don't use any longer, but still. Anything will help. I will also be trying to work as many tours and events and what have you. My friend David wants to set up a donation page. I am a little wary of that, because I don't want people to think I'm not taking personal responsibility for my own pets. But he says 'screw it, give it a shot'. And since I am reaching the level of begging, I'll most likely let him do it. It is voluntary after all, and people always say that you can't get help unless you ask for it.

June 1 is Joe's 13th birthday. I really want him to be around for a while longer.

L-R: Joe, Oliver, Sadie

Fun while it lasted...

So much for me owning anything nice. Or new. Or cutting-edge. Whatever is in control of my existence is dead-set on keeping me living in a perpetual state of rebuilding. Or being reclusive. Or being drunk. Something like that.

First, everyone I know is trying to give me another cat. I don't need any more damn cats. I love them. And I would take them. IF I owned a house. And IF I wasn't a 30-year-old woman. Who also happens to still be single. One more cat would be the nail in the coffin of future love. Getting laid. What-have-you. One more cat means that I really am The Crazy Cat Lady. And if these people actually care about me, and want to see me stay social, and don't want me to smell funny, and want to see me find love and happiness and all that cheeseball shit, WHY THE HELL DO THEY WANT ME TO HAVE ANOTHER CAT?? Sabotage, I tell you. I do not need any more pussy, thanks.

Second, I saved up some cash so I could splurge on this completely unnecessary item I've been drooling over. A pink vintage wine decanter at Modern Star. I want to lick this thing all over, I like it so much. It's got a little matching glass stopper. And you can get a set of highball glasses made by the same crystal company that are all different colors. I saved from working tours, and had the exact right amount of cash in my wallet. Then Joe had to go and start having issues with his breathing. Since it was acute, and there wasn't any snot and he didn't act like he felt bad, I of course immediately think something awful since I know all that crap. I'm thinking "old cat. breathing issues. no other signs. congestive heart failure. or cancer. or hypertrophic cardiomyopathy". I'm thinking "dying". So I instead use that cash to take him to the vet, who says "most likely allergies". Which I should have also though about but instead I'm hardwired to think of the bad shit. Now I'm feeding him antihistamines. And while he's a little better, he's still not great. And I don't have a wine decanter to drink from in order to ease the stress.

Third, I was feeling better about the fact that Joe- yes, my baby; I adopted him when I was 17. I'm approaching 31. Nobody fucks with the Joe.- wasn't dying before my eyes of some unseen condition. And glad it only had so far cost 61 of those 100-decanter-dollars I had burning a hole in my wallet. So then I had to go and make sure to fuck that one up as well. I decided, "Oh, it's a nice night! I'll drink a beer on the porch!" and like an idiot I took the phone I just got a month ago out with me. I never do that. Because no one calls me anyway. It's just a let-down, you know? But for some reason I had some hope, and took it with. Kept it in my pocket. Then I get a text... "Who?? Someone wants to hang??". Nope. My dad. He just learned how to text. Ah, ok... then just after responding to his text, I feel this tickle on me. A damn spider has decided to build a web. On me. From one side of my upper body to the other. WTF, btw?? So, I set the phone on the side table. I brush the offending arachnid off, and bump said side table. And phone falls to the floor. First time it's been dropped. And the screen shatters. And I'm 5 days past my 30-day trial period. GODFUKINGDAMMIT. So I'm now SOL on an expensive-ass phone I don't really need but was super-happy with. I can't get it exchanged. And I can't afford to replace it. I can't change my plan for 6 months, and my old phone doesn't use mobile web so my current plan is useless. I can maybe get the screen replaced. For the same amount I paid for the phone. It still works. It's just leaving glass splinters in my fingers when I try to use it. They hurt.

Basically, I can't win. If I could get a break that lasts more than a month, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

Shit. I need a vacation. From life.

Ooops! I forgot to get Raptured!

Guess what?? I'm still here. Big surprise, huh? Oh... wait. EVERYONE is still here. 

Suckas! Someone got punk'd.

Saturday came and went as usual. Except it got hot outside again. I worked the tour, I drank some beers, I went out. No one disappeared. No earthquakes. Just drinks and dancing and a lost ID... if anyone sees it (probably on the ground outside Dawg Gone Good BBQ or somewhere between there and Little Kings), bring it on over, please! 

Besides dancing like an idiot and drinking to excess (what's new?) on Saturday, I went to the Melting Point and saw the Crash Test Dummies. Remember them? I will say, it was pretty good. And Brad Roberts is pretty funny. Of course they played Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm in their encore. Shows there are neat because it's so small. I've never felt that it's so crowded there that should there be a tipped candle or some poorly-engineered pyrotechnics, I would be that girl who makes it to the door but ends up getting crushed by the crowd behind me against the doorframe. So that's good.

 

I wonder how many people called out of work on Friday with the belief they were going to be heading 'home' on Saturday? "Hi, Mr. Bossman. This is Sherry. I won't be coming into work today because I have a few things I need to square away before tomorrow's Rapture. Sorry for the inconvenience! I'm pretty sure Brad can cover for me, since he's a gay and all and will not be taken into Heaven... Oh, and I guess I won't be there on Monday, either. Or ever again. Thanks! Hopefully I'll see you soon!". And now what? I suppose those folks will have to go slouching in tomorrow morning with their tails between their legs. "Oh yeah that... my bad. I'll make up the hours." 

OR.... maybe I and all my nonbeliever friends are wrong. Maybe there is a god, and maybe the Rapture really did happen. Maybe the only ones taken up were a handful of recluse-types living in the woods and staying the hell out of civilization's way. Who would notice they were gone? Or maybe, just maybe, God thought about it a little and decided He'd rather not give one single person a backstage pass to Paradise. Perhaps the human race, as a whole, has been deemed unworthy. After all, collectively we are selfish, manipulative, ignorant, judgmental asshats with a propensity to destroy our Earthly home, shoot each other over tennis shoes and iPods, start wars over differences in culture or ancestry, and just generally Fuck Shit Up. Maybe this is why we can't have nice things. If this is the case, I totally don't blame Him... I wouldn't let us in, either. First thing that would happen would be the construction of a Wal-Mart. God knows this, of course. So maybe He looked around as his beautiful kingdom, free of douchebaggery and fast-food chains and NASCAR, and said "Fuck that". 

According to Facebook's Targeted Ads,

I am a gold-digging whore.

Thanks, Facebook!