Silverthorne

With as often as I don't post, there are times I think I should just delete my journals and move on. And yet, there's still a part of me that hangs on. Blogging is familiar, comforting. Kept me sane when my life wasn't sane at all. Was an outlet for those times when I had any measure of creativity at all. Was a place for me to share when I felt I needed to share; about life, the cats, my experiences.

I haven't been on in a while, not necessarily because I no longer wish to be here, but because a lot of things were moving around, both inside myself and in the world I live in. Some of it is still moving; still shifting.

Right now, other than a light headache that will go away as soon as I have the wit to go and take an allergy pill, I have no complaints. I'm still finding my compass, but my life is going well enough.

Ironically, my new job (I switched jobs in June, for those who missed that) is actually the ex's old one, and is also the job that got me into the door of the hospital in the first place fifteen years ago. Other than being able to share a view of the woman that others never saw, my boss and I get along very well. She's glad to have me; I'm glad to be in a position where I no longer dread going to work, or being lamblasted(SP) for doing my job...or having to fight just to get a few days off.

In truth, the woman has worked very hard to ensure I won't lose any of my hard earned PTO this year, to the point that I am actually off more days this month than I am in the office. It's pretty disconcerting. Some part of me feels it might be a reward of sorts for having put up with so much wrong in my life before. That could be my ego talking, but you know what? I'm going to indulge that. I've crawled in the dust of shame and hurt long enough, thanks.

I seriously doubt I mentioned this here (or I did and forgot; like I said, haven't been here in a while, and haven't really been paying attention), but I had to send Lucy on over the rainbow bridge a few months ago. The abuses to her health had finally caught up with her, and even though she still ate, drank, and loved anyone who got in range of her with a strength you can only attribute to the tensile strength of Velcro, she was also waking herself up crying, not sure of where she was until I'd call to her, she was weak and shaky when she walked (which the arthritis in her hips did nothing to help), and she could no longer tell where the end of the litter box and the beginning of the floor was. When I took her in after a long night of keeping her locked in the bathroom due to...well...messy bowel movements, I was pretty much told all the good I had managed to do was undone again; her blood levels were worse than when I had brought her in, fresh from animal control, and the only way to keep her steady was with daily subcu drips, and extensive dialysis treatments. Some may not agree with my decision then, but I decided that she didn't need that kind of torture; she'd been through enough it was time to let her go home, while she was still somewhat happy.

She went to sleep in my arms, content, purring, and at peace. Hopefully with very little comparative pain. Her ashes, along with Shiea's and Shiimi's, will make that last trip to dad's back yard when I go to see him early next year. Until then, her cat shaped urn, which has managed to have a face shaped like hers, stands guard on the end table next to the front door. I still rub its ears, in case she can feel it.

There's been a lot of bad news in the world lately; I won't say much about it here, because other people have said much more, and with better grace. I've done my mourning, and I will keep my comments to hoping that tomorrow will not find too many people succumbing to the whole 12/21 thing. We've had our fill of madness for the year; let the powers that be deem it more than enough and let the day, and the rest of the year, pass as peacefully as human nature can allow.

Stay safe; please have a peaceful and beautiful holiday.

Tomorrow, I go in for a CT scan after work. Seems the 'benign' cyst on my ovary wasn't really helped by the pills, and is also 'complex'. So the doc wants to take a closer look and see if things need to be scooped out.

I'm...actually not worried, but the word 'resigned' is coming to mind. My family has a firm history of losing their reproductive ovens, so, other than the back of the mind hope that if it IS cancerous, it'll be content with taking the one organ I never got to use but the once, and doesn't decide to come back and visit later in some other part of the body.

Things may or may not be changing for me at work. The boss pushed one too many times in the very wrong way, so I have a potential transfer to a different department and job in the works. IF the pay cut is not too draconian, it's an almost definite. But I'm fully aware that what my potential new bosses are willing to pay me may not jive with what HR is willing to offer, so...we'll see.

I invested in some Paint Your Own statues by Melody Pena. Right now, they're happily nestled in their shipping boxes, for the very simple reason that the only paints I have are gouche...and I'm pretty sure that won't work too well on gypsum. I REALLY want to take brush to them, though. But...will have to wait for a little bit until I can get my hands on at least a standard set of acrylics. Then we will see.

Dad is...well, let's just say I have to do a lot of 'catch up' in between our play dates in order to keep my characters at levels close to his in RIFT. He's even gotten to the point where he researches stuff. I never thought he'd take to an MMO, especially not like this this.

Then again, I had to get it from somewhere, right?

Anyway, current life, in a nutshell.

Already lost a pound on day two.

All I did was cut down portions and count calories (And I've even been over the alotted calorie count the past three days). Makes me hopeful for when I go full bore and actually, you know, follow the menu plan and start exercising.

(Still going to dread hitting that plateau, though. I hope it doesn't rear it's ugly head until I'm under 200...maybe even down to the spot where I was last time, which was 172. Guess we'll have to wait and see though).

Farewell, shitty customer service.
Goodbye to finding my autopay mysteriously turned on in several of my (now deleted) paid journals, twice.
No more the interrupted service due to DDoS attacks that had nothing to do with me...

My new home is now Dreamwidth, although I will crosspost from this journal (Derek's, however, will stay strictly on DW from now on since it's an RP journal). I will check in now and then, since these are my only two LJs left (and they're perm, so autopay can't be turned on for them). Love you, guys. Feel free to stop by at my new home (same journal name, btw).

And as a parting gift to LJ and its staff:

Most of them are still being imported or are brand new


RP Journals:
rather_be_surfing Derek's main journal
ratherbesurfing Secondary journal. I'm not sure if I'll turn this one into his main journal for RP or not. But at least it's back up.

the_mighty_foot Foot's journal
soulboundhunter Ari's RP journal


Fic Journals
icewind_orphan Ari's fic journal. I'd forgotten I'd made this one. Oops.

Community Journals
None yet--thinking of moving Blood and Bone over

In this case, and because I had already seen it on plurk, I'm going to pass it on to you--there are links in ONTD to follow where you can express your opinions on the matter if you so choose.

This, if you ever wondered, was what it was like living with my mom when she'd get angry with something I did. This isn't me, but it's pretty much a carbon copy of what I'd go through on a regular basis.

It's a hard video to watch. But it could have been any number of days or nights when I went though the same thing with my mom, and I'm pretty sure some of you could say the same.

The girl is now 22 (The video is from 2004, IIRC), and out of the situation. Unfortunately, the statute of limitations is up, so all we can hope for is that the guy loses his job (he's a judge that oversees, get this, child abuse cases).

Anyway, this is the sort of thing I feel should be passed on, remembered, and worked towards a time when this doesn't happen--that the parents get help before it ever comes to this. That no child has to go through it. And maybe, if there's enough voices, we can get this guy off the bench and maybe even pointed in a direction that, even if he can;t get himself healed, at least we can get him off the streets.