May. 1st, 2007

Deep breath.

It will be fine.

I think.

Right?

The question for today - do I go to guitar class this evening? I haven't even opened the damn thing since last Tuesday, which means I'll be pretty damn useless for those 2 hours. Or, do I do the good ole' graduate-student-read of another book I have yet to digest?


Called the doctor. Waiting for a call back. I have no idea what's next.


Time for a shower.
This cough . . . totally sexy.

And now, for a mini rant about some of the folks on the [livejournal.com profile] cat_lovers community.

Now, I am thrilled to find so many people adopting, loving, and giving homes to fabulous felines. However, they are a responsibility. They may not be like human children, but like human children they require time, funds, energy, and so forth.

However, I sometimes have the most difficult time keeping my mouth shut on said community.

If your cats aren't fixed and they're urinating all over your apartment . . . you don't say "my roommate is going to force me to get rid of them, what do I do?" You get them fixed. If you can't afford to get them fixed, then you shouldn't have adopted the poor felines in the first place. If you respond to my response with "yeah, I think that's the problem, but we can't afford it at the moment", it's not going to make me feel better about you as a human being.

Instead of posting things like "oh no, the building I'm moving in to won't allow me to have cats - is it worth it to try to hide my precious furbaby?", you make looking for a pet-friendly apartment building a priority. If you had human children, would you decide to rent an apartment that didn't allow them and just go - oops? No, I didn't think so.

If your furballs get sick, you take them to the vet. You don't wait it out for a week to see if things get better because you're not sure you can afford the vet bills. Again, if a human child was crying and throwing up all over the place, or refusing to eat, or some combination of horrible symptoms, would you make said human child just wait and see?

Cats have claws. There are at least a dozen things one can do to encourage kitties not to scratch things they're not supposed to scratch. If you can't deal with the occasional pull in a rug or fabric-covered couch, don't get a cat. That doesn't mean it's time to go get poor kitties knuckles chopped off so you can live in a claw free environment. If that's the case, adopt some fish.


And so on . . .


I just have no patience for that kind of bullshit. I know pets can be expensive. I know they can be time-consuming, stressful, and so forth. But when I adopted both of mine, I made a decision to make them a priority. That means if I need to max out all of my credit cards, rearrange my living situation, live with scars up and down both arms, and so on, for their well-being, then that's what I do. I assume most parents of human children would do the same. And I have a really difficult time with people who adopt animals without similar considerations.

I have the same feelings about parents of human children who don't make the same calculations before deciding it's a good idea to give birth. I almost had a coronary when I heard a mom in my department (she's about my age) say "oh yeah, so-and-so's had that rash for about a month - we're going to take her to the doctor tomorrow," about her 2 year old daughter. Don't even get me started on that topic.

/end rant

ETA: This rant brought to you by two very spoiled furbabies:
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Guilty pleasure: Michael Buble

Yeah, I said it. So what?

He reminds me of pieces of Harry Connick, Jr's career.



Call me back already, doc. After our 6 month relationship I should be on top of that call back list. I mean, I don't even have to re-describe who I am to his medical assistant anymore. I say "Shauna Fisher" and she says "oh yeah."

My dad apparently has a friend who had lyme disease once-upon-a-time and recently became sick again. Turns out his lyme came back for a visit. Which . . . I'm a little suspicious of. However, my dad keeps nagging me to let my doctor know, just in case. Which I suppose is the right thing to do, although I never remember to include it on my medical history. (Let's face it, the two weeks half of my face decided to freeze up is not a period of time I try hard to remember.) I think I'm also going to push the idea of going to an allergist. I don't really want to be poked with a million potential alergens, but May begins my 9th month with this shit. Eventually I plan to put in a request for a new respiratory system. We'll see how that goes.
Sometimes I have moments - good moments - when I realize how far I've come. That, no matter how absolutely low I am still capable of getting, I have grown out of the person I was when I was 16. I am by no means perfect, of course. In fact, I still consider neutral days (as opposed to depressed) an improvement. However, I was driving home this afternoon (from Zoka, where I went to read for a bit, decided I wouldn't even want to be sitting next to myself, and left), talking to my mom, and came this close to bursting into tears out of stress, exhaustion, and frustration. It would have been so easy, too. I've been sniffling, coughing, and related things for 8 months now. I in no way feel prepared for Friday. (Parties? The Presidency? What?) But, instead I felt sorry for myself for a few minutes, took a deep breath, and decided "whatever, Friday will pass like all other days . . . "

Granted, whether or not this attitude will survive through Friday has yet to be determined. But, I didn't spiral into a weepy oblivion, so that's a start.
I *really* want some ice cream.

Tell me now to go to the grocery store and get some.
Hello mood swing.

my hero

May. 1st, 2007 11:57 pm



Sorry for being a posting whore and flooding flists today. You would too if the alternative was my reading list . . .

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