Avoid. Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
Like a hermit crab scared into her shell.
Kitty died on Sunday evening. I was with her. She howled in pain a couple of times. On her last howl she gasped. After that she couldn't breathe anymore. I got on the phone to find an oncall vet, so I could have someone put her down. I asked my mother to look online for me and call back. Mina took a few futile gasps and died within minutes. She died the way she wanted to and looked peaceful.
I don't know what I'm going to do now. Emotionally, I have shut down. I spent the month of June avoiding my life and responsibilities. I cried more before her death than I have since. I don't think I've cried for more than 5 minutes, three or four times. I start but then my mind shuts that shop down; distracting me with other thoughts. The last two weeks, maybe more, my mind has worked like a radio scanning the stations. I think about Mina and start to cry then my mind brings up other things to worry about. When I've tried to think of a subject for a post, I can't get past the first line before my mind moves on. Or, it pulls up memories that I'm ashamed of, forcing me to fight them off, thus losing my train of thought.
It's pathetic and sad, but that cat was my source of unconditional love. She gave me comfort. I've alienated myself from all the people in my life, so now their words of condolence don't help much. Plus, they are all far away, hundreds or thousands of miles away. My friend Barbara is here, she wanted to help and was very sweet. But I feel better when alone. I don't have the energy for other people right now. I don't have anything to say to anyone so I don't make phone calls. Seeing people is not worth the effort. It requires a performance of niceties, giving my reluctant smile, concentrating on paying attention to what they say so I can respond. All the while I wait to go home. Anxious. I leave at the first opportunity.
One of my best friends just moved to California. He had a farewell party in early June. I got as far as the Port Authority. Once there, the lights and noises and people made me so nervous I felt sick. That, and the thought of being at a party, even though I'm friends with all the people there. I called him to say I was too sick to go then turned around and went home with much relief.
I've changed a lot in the last year and a half. My bad qualities have grown like cancer and taken over my whole personality. I had hoped it was caused by over consumption of Aspartame in the liter of Diet Coke I drank daily. But the Aspartame is gone. My head is more clear but nothing else got better. I'm killing my yeast and parasites. So I have more physical energy. But the motivation, passion, ambition, competitiveness, humor, and all accompanying social skills have gone the way of the cassette tape. In previous depressions, I kept all those things. That's how I was able to get a B.A. and and M.A. and get into a doctoral program. It got a lot harder to pursue my goals but I always cared.
Working has helped a bit. I have done a few hours of work this week. More than I have done since the fall of 03. I think I should go with the shut down and just try to bury myself in work. It's hard when I can't muster the energy to care. This isn't grocery-store variety Depression. There is something terribly wrong with me. I remember my life two years ago, I remember what I was like when I moved here:excited, loud, very social, flirty...(for me anyway) and I don't understand how this degradation of self has happened. I don't know how to fix it. I have a new doctor who says she is going to change my medication. That's a nightmare I'm not looking forward to. If I had insurance she'd want me to get ECT. (Yes, they still do that. And it's still scary.)
Wow. I just re-read the draft of this post. It clearly shows my fractured mind rushing from one subject to another. No amount of proofing can fix this post. So here it is, as is. Welcome to my confusion.
Showing posts with label Kitty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kitty. Show all posts
7.06.2005
Believe it or Not: Wonder Kitty
I'm not surprised, but maybe I should be. My cat didn't want to die. She refused to go. I gave her the tranquilizer my vet gave me to put her permanently to sleep. I gave it to her at 1 am last night. Then, she reminded me how much she hates tranquilizers. They make her mad. Years ago, I tried giving her one for a long car trip but it was horrible, her eyes got squinty, she kept meowing and trying to stand in the passanger seat but then she'd fall over. That went on for the few hours the pill was supposed to last. She did the same thing last night.
I gave it to her. Then she growled at me and went to the corner of the living room. Then she got up and stumbled toward the couch. So I put her on the couch. But then she started dragging herself to the edge so I picked her up and brought her to my bedroom. It seemed like she wanted to go under the bed so I put her there. She kicked and dragged her body around under there. I tried helping and she moaned at me. After an hour and a half of this I tried going to bed. I felt so sick.
I thought I had cried enough but I did some more. Then I started feeling guilty. Clearly, this wasn't what she wanted. When I stopped crying, I could hear her thumping around under the bed. She had almost dragged herself out so I put her on my bed. She didn't want that either. First she flopped herself off the pillow. Then she dragged herself to the windowsill. She kept moving around until she finally lunged forward towards the floor. I started to suspect this might not work. Mina is the most willful and stubborn cat I have ever seen. She'll go when she's ready to go and she'll die her own way thank you very much.
My sister calmed me down. That's when it got really pitiful. Kitty pulled her body forward across my bedroom as I talked on the phone. Then she crawled into my study. 15 minutes later I heard a big flop in the litter box. I got up and looked. I saw her curled up with her face in the litter. ohh. She didn't want to relieve herself on the floor. I picked her up so she could stand. When she put her paws on the edge of the box I helped her to the floor where she fell.
This cat doesn't die by the litter box, I put my hands around her middle and pulled her up again. By this time we had a system. We did a wheelbarrow, I held her back end up because it seemed completely paralyzed, while she pulled herself forward with her front paws. That way she could choose which way to go. Back into my bedroom. I put her down on the floor next to my bed. I thought this had to be the end. It was 4 am. I tried to sleep.
I woke this morning with a lovely dream about going SCUBA diving with a bunch of people I know, one girl had magical powers and she showed me how she could make the wind do things to the ocean. The first dive was for couples only. But I didn't know that. So I dragged this sad looking guy out of the dorms to go diving. I forgot my forms. When I heard that it was only for couples, I got scared and ditched the dude. (Totally something I would do in real life.) The phone rang.
I pulled myself to consciousness, "Hi Mom." I told her what happened. I could hear 'I told you so' resounding inside her head, she had told me to spring for the housecall vet instead. Since she got my email, she has gotten better at holding her tongue. But I knew she thought it. When I got off the phone, I looked for her. Under the bed she lay. Looking quite dead. But. I called her name a few times. Her tail flopped up and down. No way! I called her again. Tail wagged. Unbelievable. It totally didn't work. Kitty has willed herself to live.
She's been walking around. Hung out in the kitchen and the living room. Last I checked, she was sitting in the bathroom in her favorite spot, leaning on the toilet. Ok, Kitty has spoken. She can die her own way.
Should I keep giving her the anitbiotics? She's starving herself so should I let the infection take over her body too? Is one better than the other? Unbelievable. I'm exhausted. Honsetly, I was looking forward to the relief of not worrying about her anymore. I'm really sorry I tried to do it.
I gave it to her. Then she growled at me and went to the corner of the living room. Then she got up and stumbled toward the couch. So I put her on the couch. But then she started dragging herself to the edge so I picked her up and brought her to my bedroom. It seemed like she wanted to go under the bed so I put her there. She kicked and dragged her body around under there. I tried helping and she moaned at me. After an hour and a half of this I tried going to bed. I felt so sick.
I thought I had cried enough but I did some more. Then I started feeling guilty. Clearly, this wasn't what she wanted. When I stopped crying, I could hear her thumping around under the bed. She had almost dragged herself out so I put her on my bed. She didn't want that either. First she flopped herself off the pillow. Then she dragged herself to the windowsill. She kept moving around until she finally lunged forward towards the floor. I started to suspect this might not work. Mina is the most willful and stubborn cat I have ever seen. She'll go when she's ready to go and she'll die her own way thank you very much.
My sister calmed me down. That's when it got really pitiful. Kitty pulled her body forward across my bedroom as I talked on the phone. Then she crawled into my study. 15 minutes later I heard a big flop in the litter box. I got up and looked. I saw her curled up with her face in the litter. ohh. She didn't want to relieve herself on the floor. I picked her up so she could stand. When she put her paws on the edge of the box I helped her to the floor where she fell.
This cat doesn't die by the litter box, I put my hands around her middle and pulled her up again. By this time we had a system. We did a wheelbarrow, I held her back end up because it seemed completely paralyzed, while she pulled herself forward with her front paws. That way she could choose which way to go. Back into my bedroom. I put her down on the floor next to my bed. I thought this had to be the end. It was 4 am. I tried to sleep.
I woke this morning with a lovely dream about going SCUBA diving with a bunch of people I know, one girl had magical powers and she showed me how she could make the wind do things to the ocean. The first dive was for couples only. But I didn't know that. So I dragged this sad looking guy out of the dorms to go diving. I forgot my forms. When I heard that it was only for couples, I got scared and ditched the dude. (Totally something I would do in real life.) The phone rang.
I pulled myself to consciousness, "Hi Mom." I told her what happened. I could hear 'I told you so' resounding inside her head, she had told me to spring for the housecall vet instead. Since she got my email, she has gotten better at holding her tongue. But I knew she thought it. When I got off the phone, I looked for her. Under the bed she lay. Looking quite dead. But. I called her name a few times. Her tail flopped up and down. No way! I called her again. Tail wagged. Unbelievable. It totally didn't work. Kitty has willed herself to live.
She's been walking around. Hung out in the kitchen and the living room. Last I checked, she was sitting in the bathroom in her favorite spot, leaning on the toilet. Ok, Kitty has spoken. She can die her own way.
Should I keep giving her the anitbiotics? She's starving herself so should I let the infection take over her body too? Is one better than the other? Unbelievable. I'm exhausted. Honsetly, I was looking forward to the relief of not worrying about her anymore. I'm really sorry I tried to do it.
7.04.2005
Goodbye, My Friend
This shadow dwells in our home. It came a few months ago. It landed on you, my dear.
It steals. It started by eating your flesh, slowly. It made you nervous. You didn't like me leaving you upstairs. You'd cry in the hall so the sound would echo down to the kitchen. If I didn't come back soon enough then you'd come down to get me. You're rotund body looked so funny going up and down the stairs, like a roly-poly. You've made me laugh so many times.
But not these days. You've wasted away before my eyes. You tried to get better. A few days ago it stole your purr. When did it steal your restful sleep? You only lie restless, agitated. That's when you stopped eating, I think. Leaving you to lust the food and drink as you sit beside them on the floor. Your sad eyes are tinged yellow with jaundice.
I can't believe my beautiful, dignified friend is inside that pitiful body. Shaved patches mock you under your chin and belly and legs where the doctor took your blood. He left a little bruise. You've been very good at tolerating the weekly vet visits. I know it terrified you. The medicine I've struggled to feed you has caked on your cheeks, chin and feet. It won't wash off even though I have tried.
Death won't wash off either. His hands hold your frail skeletal frame, squeezing. It was too hard to see the inevitable. Because you stopped lying in the closet all day I thought you were getting better. But your bones got more and more pronounced through your dehydrated skin. Even though you sat with me in the living room and purred on the couch. And last week you woke me up in the morning. I'm sorry to have dragged this out and put you through this. I thought there was hope. I know you tried. Thank you.
Friday morning when I saw you drooling like that I panicked. We went to the vet again. He gave you some fluids and told me to make you comfortable. I decided to start giving you the extra antibiotics I hadn't been. And to force-feed you. The vet told me to do it last week but you were eating on your own so I couldn't. Friday after we got home, you didn't leave the carrier because you couldn't walk. I put your favorite blanket under the chair and made myself comfortable to sit with you. I knew that you were dying. I wanted to stay with you.
I told you then that you could leave, you didn't have to stay here for me. But I lied, didn't I? I fed you late at night when you started shivering. Then, when your breathing grew ragged at 3 am, I took you to the hospital. They wanted to put you to sleep. I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you in a cold hospital with your last memories being forced into a cab, urinating on yourself and having these strangers poke you. I took you there so they could give you something for pain, to make it more comfortable. They told me they couldn't, I should end it instead. I considered it seriously. At 5 am, crying in that little room, I wished I wasn't alone. I couldn't think straight.
I hadn't slept in two days and neither had you. I wasn't prepared to make that decision like that. It felt like throwing you away. Not like that. She tried to talk me into it. She showed me the 'waiting' room. She gave me pamphlets called, 'Goodbye my friend'. I cried and cried and tried to process what she told me. Too many choices: euthanasia, more tests, put you in the oxygen tank, steroids or chemotherapy. Wha? She told me they couldn't fix you. And all I knew for sure was that I didn't want you to die there, like that. I wanted to take you home and get someone to make a housecall.
So they gave you some shots and I brought you home. "Against her medical opinion." You were glad to be here. I knew it was right when you started kneading your afghan. I made a place for you to sleep under the bed but you hopped on top and curled up with me. We slept for the first time in two days. You went back under the bed later. When I woke up that afternoon, I was afraid to look for you. But there you were, still breathing, without struggle. The shot must have helped you.
But now you can barely walk. Your eyes look so sad. Despite it all, Death hasn't stolen your dignity. You still sit with your head proudly displayed, as you should. But you can't do it for long. It's been months and you are still fighting. You poor girl. I wasn't as good to you as I should have been. I couldn't see how bad you were getting because I couldn't bear to face it. I thought you could beat it. You rallied and seemed to improve. But, not this time.
I called your doctor today. I asked him if he thought it was time to put you to sleep because you had gotten worse. He said that was the kindest thing to do. I asked if he was sure you weren't getting better. He said he knew it the first time he saw you, he's just been trying to prolong your life. If I had known that I wouldn't have put you through all this. I'm so sorry I've been forcing you to take the medicine. It made me sick to do it. Twice a day, I have chased you and held you down and forced your mouth open and pushed the pink liquid down your throat. You tried to spit it out. It broke my heart over and over to put you through that torture. But I wanted you to get better.
I'm going to the vet's office today to pick it up. I asked him if we could do it at home and he said he could give me the pills to do it myself. I'm going to put you to sleep, put you out of your wretched misery. Because I love you.
This has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. It must be hell for you. Watching you wither away hurt so much. And then the hope that you were getting better, then the disappointment that you weren't . . . I didn't know if I should keep treating you or let you be. The overwhelming guilt that I wasn't doing enough or I was negligent. And you loved me through it all, your pain and my torture. You've been the best cat ever.
This is the right thing.
Goodbye, my beloved friend.
It steals. It started by eating your flesh, slowly. It made you nervous. You didn't like me leaving you upstairs. You'd cry in the hall so the sound would echo down to the kitchen. If I didn't come back soon enough then you'd come down to get me. You're rotund body looked so funny going up and down the stairs, like a roly-poly. You've made me laugh so many times.
But not these days. You've wasted away before my eyes. You tried to get better. A few days ago it stole your purr. When did it steal your restful sleep? You only lie restless, agitated. That's when you stopped eating, I think. Leaving you to lust the food and drink as you sit beside them on the floor. Your sad eyes are tinged yellow with jaundice.
I can't believe my beautiful, dignified friend is inside that pitiful body. Shaved patches mock you under your chin and belly and legs where the doctor took your blood. He left a little bruise. You've been very good at tolerating the weekly vet visits. I know it terrified you. The medicine I've struggled to feed you has caked on your cheeks, chin and feet. It won't wash off even though I have tried.
Death won't wash off either. His hands hold your frail skeletal frame, squeezing. It was too hard to see the inevitable. Because you stopped lying in the closet all day I thought you were getting better. But your bones got more and more pronounced through your dehydrated skin. Even though you sat with me in the living room and purred on the couch. And last week you woke me up in the morning. I'm sorry to have dragged this out and put you through this. I thought there was hope. I know you tried. Thank you.
Friday morning when I saw you drooling like that I panicked. We went to the vet again. He gave you some fluids and told me to make you comfortable. I decided to start giving you the extra antibiotics I hadn't been. And to force-feed you. The vet told me to do it last week but you were eating on your own so I couldn't. Friday after we got home, you didn't leave the carrier because you couldn't walk. I put your favorite blanket under the chair and made myself comfortable to sit with you. I knew that you were dying. I wanted to stay with you.
I told you then that you could leave, you didn't have to stay here for me. But I lied, didn't I? I fed you late at night when you started shivering. Then, when your breathing grew ragged at 3 am, I took you to the hospital. They wanted to put you to sleep. I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you in a cold hospital with your last memories being forced into a cab, urinating on yourself and having these strangers poke you. I took you there so they could give you something for pain, to make it more comfortable. They told me they couldn't, I should end it instead. I considered it seriously. At 5 am, crying in that little room, I wished I wasn't alone. I couldn't think straight.
I hadn't slept in two days and neither had you. I wasn't prepared to make that decision like that. It felt like throwing you away. Not like that. She tried to talk me into it. She showed me the 'waiting' room. She gave me pamphlets called, 'Goodbye my friend'. I cried and cried and tried to process what she told me. Too many choices: euthanasia, more tests, put you in the oxygen tank, steroids or chemotherapy. Wha? She told me they couldn't fix you. And all I knew for sure was that I didn't want you to die there, like that. I wanted to take you home and get someone to make a housecall.
So they gave you some shots and I brought you home. "Against her medical opinion." You were glad to be here. I knew it was right when you started kneading your afghan. I made a place for you to sleep under the bed but you hopped on top and curled up with me. We slept for the first time in two days. You went back under the bed later. When I woke up that afternoon, I was afraid to look for you. But there you were, still breathing, without struggle. The shot must have helped you.
But now you can barely walk. Your eyes look so sad. Despite it all, Death hasn't stolen your dignity. You still sit with your head proudly displayed, as you should. But you can't do it for long. It's been months and you are still fighting. You poor girl. I wasn't as good to you as I should have been. I couldn't see how bad you were getting because I couldn't bear to face it. I thought you could beat it. You rallied and seemed to improve. But, not this time.
I called your doctor today. I asked him if he thought it was time to put you to sleep because you had gotten worse. He said that was the kindest thing to do. I asked if he was sure you weren't getting better. He said he knew it the first time he saw you, he's just been trying to prolong your life. If I had known that I wouldn't have put you through all this. I'm so sorry I've been forcing you to take the medicine. It made me sick to do it. Twice a day, I have chased you and held you down and forced your mouth open and pushed the pink liquid down your throat. You tried to spit it out. It broke my heart over and over to put you through that torture. But I wanted you to get better.
I'm going to the vet's office today to pick it up. I asked him if we could do it at home and he said he could give me the pills to do it myself. I'm going to put you to sleep, put you out of your wretched misery. Because I love you.
This has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. It must be hell for you. Watching you wither away hurt so much. And then the hope that you were getting better, then the disappointment that you weren't . . . I didn't know if I should keep treating you or let you be. The overwhelming guilt that I wasn't doing enough or I was negligent. And you loved me through it all, your pain and my torture. You've been the best cat ever.
This is the right thing.
Goodbye, my beloved friend.
5.29.2005
What? Or, the State of my Sick Kitty
Lots of folks are praying for kitty, prayer is a powerful thing.
After an entire week of getting used to the idea of losing my pet, to the point of resignation, the other vet called me Friday afternoon. I was on my way to the city in the bus, going through the tunnel, and this guy starts telling me that someone else looked at the test results. And nothing malignant showed up in her liver, just hepatitus. But they need to biopsy her swollen lymph node and she has lesions on her spleen. (why didn't they do that the first time?) How was she doing? I told him she was doing a lot better seemingly from the antibiotics. He seemed pleased and said they wanted to do more tests at no charge, and he had some more medicine for her. He'd have to find out the dose and then call it in to my pharmacy, it is supposed to help empty her gall bladder of bile. Was she still looking yellow? She isn't. Good. He then said we shouldn't traumatize her with more tests as long as she is doing better, we should wait and see how she does on the new meds and keep her on antibiotics and her diabetes stuff. ... After this long and windy conversation, I think he was trying to tell me that she might not have lymphona and she might be ok. Huh? I couldn't even process this new info.
It was a different vet who told me on Monday she definitely had cancer. But that was after this vet told me on Saturday she might not have cancer. So, two times I crashed with the grief of knowing she was dying. Now, for the second time they tell me she might not be dying. I'm so griefed out I don't even know how to respond. With caution. I should proceed as if she is dying. But she really is improving so much, it's hard not to get optimistic. She's gained weight. She is eating again and socializing now. Instead of hiding in the closet waiting to die, she sits on my lap or on her favorite chair. She's purring. She even teased the little cat by sitting in that one's favorite spot. This morning she jumped on my bed to wake me up to feed her. She hasn't done that in three weeks.
So I'm just going to enjoy her company and shower her with affection and tuna fish. I think I can lapse back into denial now, the vet has given me a decent excuse. I can enjoy her more if I'm not sad about her imminent death. What an exhausting emotional ride.
Thank you for the love and your prayers. We'll see if we get a miracle this time.
After an entire week of getting used to the idea of losing my pet, to the point of resignation, the other vet called me Friday afternoon. I was on my way to the city in the bus, going through the tunnel, and this guy starts telling me that someone else looked at the test results. And nothing malignant showed up in her liver, just hepatitus. But they need to biopsy her swollen lymph node and she has lesions on her spleen. (why didn't they do that the first time?) How was she doing? I told him she was doing a lot better seemingly from the antibiotics. He seemed pleased and said they wanted to do more tests at no charge, and he had some more medicine for her. He'd have to find out the dose and then call it in to my pharmacy, it is supposed to help empty her gall bladder of bile. Was she still looking yellow? She isn't. Good. He then said we shouldn't traumatize her with more tests as long as she is doing better, we should wait and see how she does on the new meds and keep her on antibiotics and her diabetes stuff. ... After this long and windy conversation, I think he was trying to tell me that she might not have lymphona and she might be ok. Huh? I couldn't even process this new info.
It was a different vet who told me on Monday she definitely had cancer. But that was after this vet told me on Saturday she might not have cancer. So, two times I crashed with the grief of knowing she was dying. Now, for the second time they tell me she might not be dying. I'm so griefed out I don't even know how to respond. With caution. I should proceed as if she is dying. But she really is improving so much, it's hard not to get optimistic. She's gained weight. She is eating again and socializing now. Instead of hiding in the closet waiting to die, she sits on my lap or on her favorite chair. She's purring. She even teased the little cat by sitting in that one's favorite spot. This morning she jumped on my bed to wake me up to feed her. She hasn't done that in three weeks.
So I'm just going to enjoy her company and shower her with affection and tuna fish. I think I can lapse back into denial now, the vet has given me a decent excuse. I can enjoy her more if I'm not sad about her imminent death. What an exhausting emotional ride.
Thank you for the love and your prayers. We'll see if we get a miracle this time.
Collection:
Kitty
5.26.2005
Introducing Queen Wilamina
Kitty is a fellow celibate virgin. I got her spayed before she went into heat so she has never known a Tom.
Wilamina was angry and hopped up on catnip here. She's still obese when this was taken Christmas before last. For a time, while my sister took care of her, she got so fat so no longer had a neck or chin. She looked like an egg or a weeble wobble. I think she ate so much because she missed me, and/or felt abandoned. It took 6 months for her to forgive me for leaving her behind in Georgia. I didn't know what the pet situation would be in the school apartments, so I left her temporarily with my sister in my old apartment. Pets were not allowed. But, rules were made to be broken. I took in a dying feral stray in October, one cat, two cats, it's all the same.
Wilamina was angry and hopped up on catnip here. She's still obese when this was taken Christmas before last. For a time, while my sister took care of her, she got so fat so no longer had a neck or chin. She looked like an egg or a weeble wobble. I think she ate so much because she missed me, and/or felt abandoned. It took 6 months for her to forgive me for leaving her behind in Georgia. I didn't know what the pet situation would be in the school apartments, so I left her temporarily with my sister in my old apartment. Pets were not allowed. But, rules were made to be broken. I took in a dying feral stray in October, one cat, two cats, it's all the same.
Collection:
Kitty
One of her prissier poses. She always sits or stands with her paws just so. I've never seen a cat that loved attention as much as she does. She always poses for the camera and seems to love being in pictures. Whenever I have company she comes out and stands in the middle of the room looking at everyone and waiting for admiration. Until you tell her how pretty she is, she won't move.
Collection:
Kitty
5.25.2005
Everyday is Like Sunday
She has lymphoma. There's a tumor in her intestines and lesions on the spleen and liver. She lost 30% of her body weight in the last two months. Her mouth is stained yellow from bile or is jaundiced. She doesn't eat or drink. It looks like she has difficulty standing and walking. I don't have the results back from all the tests yet but typically cats live 4-6 weeks after diagnosis.
Diagnosis came last night. The vet left it on my voicemail and since I forgot to take my phone with me to work, I didn't listen to it until I got home about 9:30 pm. On Friday they told me she might have untreatable cancer. But it might just be colonitis or something. Nevermind the tangerine sized mass in her gut. Friday night I cried myself to sleep, in the arms of a friend. (Thank you!) Saturday I convinced myself she had some kind of infection that would go away. There weren't any signs of cancer in her blood. Though the vet said that sometimes an animal can be riddled with cancer without it showing up. But he said there was a chance. I brightened up and clung to this idea.
Wilamina knows better than to leave me. She wouldn't do that.
But she is dying. I've known that in my heart for months. Monday morning I took her back for more definitive tests. Now I find myself in a weird emotional limbo--feeling intense grief when I think about it, but knowing that she's still alive now. I don't want to waste the rest of her life feeling sad about her future death. And yet, I can't ignore it either. I've tried all day. So I've been depressed all day, unable to do anything productive, with spurts of crying between devouring a whole bag of nachos with a jar of processed yellow cheesefood chemical dip. In the afternoon I watched Mildred Pierce and a biography about Joan Crawford. If anyone has ever needed a real job to get her out of the house, it's me.
You might think the crazy cat lady grieves too much for an animal, but you should know what she has meant to me through the past decade. I found this online, it explains my situation:
Has my life been in turmoil? LOL! Have the crises resolved themselves? I don't believe such a thing ever happens. I don't even know what stability looks like. Life has been so unstable that the poor kitty has had foster-care by 6 different people, during the times when I travelled or lived in a non-cat friendly place for a month or more. Wilamina has been the ONLY constant in my adult life: Throught six different states, 15 homes, five academic institutions, over a dozen therapists/psychiatrists, probably a dozen different medications and innumerable side effects, more than a dozen men have come and gone, 15 jobs, weight fluctuations through six dress sizes, and the never dull emotional illness which has yet to cease transforming and presenting in new and exciting ways! And then there was Mina. My fat, fiercely loyal and cunning uber-cat who was known to turn cat-haters into cat-lovers. She was quite the hussy as well. Any man I brought home, she wanted in on the action.
Her story, intertwined with mine, is an interesting one. 9 years we've travelled together. She's an extraordinary feline and has been an extraordinary pet. Even today, after spending the night in a cage, she charmed the vet and his staff. When I walked back to my apartment with her from the bus stop--about 10 minutes, she climbed the front half of herself out of the carrier so she could watch the world. She placed her paws on my arm, as if to stand, and followed the trail of birds and squirrels with her head. She got excited as we came closer to my building and strained forward like she wanted to run home. But she knew better and stayed in my arms.
To be continued. Anyone know how to upload pictures into blogger?
Diagnosis came last night. The vet left it on my voicemail and since I forgot to take my phone with me to work, I didn't listen to it until I got home about 9:30 pm. On Friday they told me she might have untreatable cancer. But it might just be colonitis or something. Nevermind the tangerine sized mass in her gut. Friday night I cried myself to sleep, in the arms of a friend. (Thank you!) Saturday I convinced myself she had some kind of infection that would go away. There weren't any signs of cancer in her blood. Though the vet said that sometimes an animal can be riddled with cancer without it showing up. But he said there was a chance. I brightened up and clung to this idea.
Wilamina knows better than to leave me. She wouldn't do that.
But she is dying. I've known that in my heart for months. Monday morning I took her back for more definitive tests. Now I find myself in a weird emotional limbo--feeling intense grief when I think about it, but knowing that she's still alive now. I don't want to waste the rest of her life feeling sad about her future death. And yet, I can't ignore it either. I've tried all day. So I've been depressed all day, unable to do anything productive, with spurts of crying between devouring a whole bag of nachos with a jar of processed yellow cheesefood chemical dip. In the afternoon I watched Mildred Pierce and a biography about Joan Crawford. If anyone has ever needed a real job to get her out of the house, it's me.
You might think the crazy cat lady grieves too much for an animal, but you should know what she has meant to me through the past decade. I found this online, it explains my situation:
--www.pet-loss.net/emotions.html
If your life is in turmoil--if, for instance, problems are occurring in relationships or careers or family situations--your relationship with your pet may be the only stable thing in your life. No matter how bad things get everywhere else, a pet will continue to offer unconditional love and acceptance.
Even when the trying times or stressful changes are past, you may still feel an intense attachment to that pet. "I couldn't have survived without him," you might say. "He was my good luck charm." You might even fear that your life will fall apart completely without that "anchor," even if the crises that the pet anchored you through have long since resolved themselves. If they haven't been resolved, the loss of the pet can be even more traumatic, because you may then feel completely cut off from any source of love and support.
Has my life been in turmoil? LOL! Have the crises resolved themselves? I don't believe such a thing ever happens. I don't even know what stability looks like. Life has been so unstable that the poor kitty has had foster-care by 6 different people, during the times when I travelled or lived in a non-cat friendly place for a month or more. Wilamina has been the ONLY constant in my adult life: Throught six different states, 15 homes, five academic institutions, over a dozen therapists/psychiatrists, probably a dozen different medications and innumerable side effects, more than a dozen men have come and gone, 15 jobs, weight fluctuations through six dress sizes, and the never dull emotional illness which has yet to cease transforming and presenting in new and exciting ways! And then there was Mina. My fat, fiercely loyal and cunning uber-cat who was known to turn cat-haters into cat-lovers. She was quite the hussy as well. Any man I brought home, she wanted in on the action.
Her story, intertwined with mine, is an interesting one. 9 years we've travelled together. She's an extraordinary feline and has been an extraordinary pet. Even today, after spending the night in a cage, she charmed the vet and his staff. When I walked back to my apartment with her from the bus stop--about 10 minutes, she climbed the front half of herself out of the carrier so she could watch the world. She placed her paws on my arm, as if to stand, and followed the trail of birds and squirrels with her head. She got excited as we came closer to my building and strained forward like she wanted to run home. But she knew better and stayed in my arms.
To be continued. Anyone know how to upload pictures into blogger?
3.01.2005
State of the Celibate
Currently, I am working on a paper. So I blog. I have new stories for you but life has overwhelmed me. Many dear readers who followed the recent not fun exploits of the Celibate have worried about me. I can't believe how sweet y'all are. I wrote several posts without a follow-up because something new always happened. So this is a catch up post. (I'm sorry for the suckiness of the blog lately, much is changing but I'll get back to the good stuff shortly, including the dating scene.)
On Teaching
In January I posted here about my fears for the new semester. How is that going? Very Well! I teach night classes, and as I hoped, no one behaves like a teenager. I do have one student who took the class before and failed it. She likes to tell me how much she hates the subject because it's irrelevant. Surprisingly, when she said this last week, another student raised his hand and explained to her the benefits of studying this discipline. How cool is that?! They are in my first class that is a little more difficult because they tend to bore easily. But the second class is wonderful. We have a great reporte already, many say goodbye or thank me at the end of class. Teaching at night doesn't mean I can afford to slack off with the discipline. My students are native New Yorkers. Their respect has to be earned.
One night, my later class started packing up because we only had 5 minutes left. One got up to leave, then the rest began to follow. Oh no. I wasn't having it. I said, "Excuse me. No. Class is not over, get back in your seats. You don't leave until I say it's time to go." Two left but the rest sat back down. One said, "You have 3 minutes." I said, "That's right. You see, this is a power issue." Someone said, "Take the power back, professor." I continued, "It is my job as your teacher to control the class and maintain an environment conducive to learning. Having people leave whenever they want is NOT conducive to learning. You don't leave until I say so." Then I finished up and dismissed them. Beautiful! I was so proud of myself.
As most women do, I live with extreme dichotomies of personality. I do have a very tough and controlling side and I have it's opposite, the timid fearful woman. Because the strong woman disappeared last year, the timid one took over. And it created a disaster! Because of that, serious anxiety htis in the morning and lingers all day before teaching. Last year I was so depressed, it was all I could do to show up let alone control 40 students AND lecture. I let myself go some in appearance. I wore these old lady comfortable shoes and didn't bother much with makeup. I probably appeared quite timid.
Not this year. I am kicking arse and taking names. The bada** inside me has re-surfaced. The old lady shoes have got to go. I usually wear boots or Doc wingtips with stacked heels. I've also tried to punk things up a little, wearing dark lipstick and black gummy bracelets and keeping up with my nails. The way teachers dress really makes a difference in how students treat them, sad but true.
Things are already much better this year and I expect that to continue.
Making up last term
Some may recall this post in which I described the bind I had gotten myself into as a student. And how I was afraid to ask the rude professor to do an independent study to make up for his class in the fall. I came up with a solution the Friday after classes started. I still hadn't registered because of my fear. Having run out of time the week before, I went to school to get the registration paperwork, still not knowing what to do about it. While sitting in the office filling out the forms, I realized....I didn't have to make-up the work with that professor! I could just take a new class, start over. That would be much more pleasant and probably less work too. Yipee.
The deptartment chair got permission to grade my papers for the visiting professor I had last fall who couldn't grade them because he went back to Oxford. Hallelujah! That man is so kind and understanding. I was afraid to talk to him about registering because I hadn't talked to the mean professor yet, what a great slacker am I! When I did go in to see him, it turned out that he hadn't emailed the Oxford don yet either, even though he agreed to do that in December. His procrastination warmed my heart because it reminded me that these are my people, we come from the same warped planet. I started the paper for him this weekend. My friend and I got together on Saturday to help each other work. We had a lovely day.
The Uterus
What is the state of my uterus? I heard from a few concerned readers regarding my uterine problems. Some of you said you prayed for me and I think that worked to the extent that I went back to my old cycle of 17 days, an improvement from 10! My blood tests came back normal. But the nurse said I still need the sonogram because there is something wrong with me, healthy people don't bleed that much.
I decided against the sonogram for the following reasons: if there is something wrong then I can't afford to fix it anyway, if it gets diagnosed now and then I get insurance it will be pre-existing and not covered, we know I don't have any STDs, if I do have fibroids then they can't do anything about it other than prescribe birth control pills which may shrink them. So, what is the point of taking a picture of them? None. This did not convince the nurse. She said I could have an endometrial biopsy instead but could expect discomfort from that since I've never given birth and they have to go up the cervix. No thank you. She refused to give me the prescription until I have some tests. Sigh.
One kind person suggested I look into getting help from the state or checking Planned Parenthood for discounted ob/gyn services. I don't qualify for state aid. I haven't looked into the PP thing yet. A few readers have emailed me asking if they could help financially. Not wanting to turn such generous people away, I have added a donation button to the bottom of the blog. Thank you kind souls who donated! For now, my uterus has calmed down and my two week cycle is livable, I feel more stable. I'll take care of this some day.
Kitty, Kitty
The sick cat. She's likely dying. I took her to the vet because I hoped it might be something small we could treat for a nominal sum. Nope. She had to have blood tests because she has the symptoms of the old cat diseases: diabetes, renal failure, or hypothyroidism. The vet should call today with the results. So I wait to find out how my beloved kitty will die. I have responded to this with complete denial, feeling nothing.
Funny thing happened on the way to the vet. I don't have a cat carrier because she's car trained and sits quietly in my lap when we travel. For this trip, I wanted to splurge for a cab, so I had to go down the block to catch one. I walked with kitty half-way inside a canvas bag, her front half clinging to my shoulder. One man I passed said, "You need to get a real baby to play with." Then he repeated himself with contempt. No doubt he wanted to offer his services, either that or I truly disgusted him. Maybe both. No cabs stopped for the woman holding a cat. I can't blame them. After I stood on the corner for awhile, watching the cabs go by, a homeless woman offered to get me a cab. Then she asked if I had any change I could give her. When she hailed the black caddy I gave her 75 cents.
***
This catches everything up I believe. Thank you for your concern, it means a lot that so many people who never met me could feel such compassion for me. Happy fun stories should be forthcoming soon.
Love,
JL
On Teaching
In January I posted here about my fears for the new semester. How is that going? Very Well! I teach night classes, and as I hoped, no one behaves like a teenager. I do have one student who took the class before and failed it. She likes to tell me how much she hates the subject because it's irrelevant. Surprisingly, when she said this last week, another student raised his hand and explained to her the benefits of studying this discipline. How cool is that?! They are in my first class that is a little more difficult because they tend to bore easily. But the second class is wonderful. We have a great reporte already, many say goodbye or thank me at the end of class. Teaching at night doesn't mean I can afford to slack off with the discipline. My students are native New Yorkers. Their respect has to be earned.
One night, my later class started packing up because we only had 5 minutes left. One got up to leave, then the rest began to follow. Oh no. I wasn't having it. I said, "Excuse me. No. Class is not over, get back in your seats. You don't leave until I say it's time to go." Two left but the rest sat back down. One said, "You have 3 minutes." I said, "That's right. You see, this is a power issue." Someone said, "Take the power back, professor." I continued, "It is my job as your teacher to control the class and maintain an environment conducive to learning. Having people leave whenever they want is NOT conducive to learning. You don't leave until I say so." Then I finished up and dismissed them. Beautiful! I was so proud of myself.
As most women do, I live with extreme dichotomies of personality. I do have a very tough and controlling side and I have it's opposite, the timid fearful woman. Because the strong woman disappeared last year, the timid one took over. And it created a disaster! Because of that, serious anxiety htis in the morning and lingers all day before teaching. Last year I was so depressed, it was all I could do to show up let alone control 40 students AND lecture. I let myself go some in appearance. I wore these old lady comfortable shoes and didn't bother much with makeup. I probably appeared quite timid.
Not this year. I am kicking arse and taking names. The bada** inside me has re-surfaced. The old lady shoes have got to go. I usually wear boots or Doc wingtips with stacked heels. I've also tried to punk things up a little, wearing dark lipstick and black gummy bracelets and keeping up with my nails. The way teachers dress really makes a difference in how students treat them, sad but true.
Things are already much better this year and I expect that to continue.
Making up last term
Some may recall this post in which I described the bind I had gotten myself into as a student. And how I was afraid to ask the rude professor to do an independent study to make up for his class in the fall. I came up with a solution the Friday after classes started. I still hadn't registered because of my fear. Having run out of time the week before, I went to school to get the registration paperwork, still not knowing what to do about it. While sitting in the office filling out the forms, I realized....I didn't have to make-up the work with that professor! I could just take a new class, start over. That would be much more pleasant and probably less work too. Yipee.
The deptartment chair got permission to grade my papers for the visiting professor I had last fall who couldn't grade them because he went back to Oxford. Hallelujah! That man is so kind and understanding. I was afraid to talk to him about registering because I hadn't talked to the mean professor yet, what a great slacker am I! When I did go in to see him, it turned out that he hadn't emailed the Oxford don yet either, even though he agreed to do that in December. His procrastination warmed my heart because it reminded me that these are my people, we come from the same warped planet. I started the paper for him this weekend. My friend and I got together on Saturday to help each other work. We had a lovely day.
The Uterus
What is the state of my uterus? I heard from a few concerned readers regarding my uterine problems. Some of you said you prayed for me and I think that worked to the extent that I went back to my old cycle of 17 days, an improvement from 10! My blood tests came back normal. But the nurse said I still need the sonogram because there is something wrong with me, healthy people don't bleed that much.
I decided against the sonogram for the following reasons: if there is something wrong then I can't afford to fix it anyway, if it gets diagnosed now and then I get insurance it will be pre-existing and not covered, we know I don't have any STDs, if I do have fibroids then they can't do anything about it other than prescribe birth control pills which may shrink them. So, what is the point of taking a picture of them? None. This did not convince the nurse. She said I could have an endometrial biopsy instead but could expect discomfort from that since I've never given birth and they have to go up the cervix. No thank you. She refused to give me the prescription until I have some tests. Sigh.
One kind person suggested I look into getting help from the state or checking Planned Parenthood for discounted ob/gyn services. I don't qualify for state aid. I haven't looked into the PP thing yet. A few readers have emailed me asking if they could help financially. Not wanting to turn such generous people away, I have added a donation button to the bottom of the blog. Thank you kind souls who donated! For now, my uterus has calmed down and my two week cycle is livable, I feel more stable. I'll take care of this some day.
Kitty, Kitty
The sick cat. She's likely dying. I took her to the vet because I hoped it might be something small we could treat for a nominal sum. Nope. She had to have blood tests because she has the symptoms of the old cat diseases: diabetes, renal failure, or hypothyroidism. The vet should call today with the results. So I wait to find out how my beloved kitty will die. I have responded to this with complete denial, feeling nothing.
Funny thing happened on the way to the vet. I don't have a cat carrier because she's car trained and sits quietly in my lap when we travel. For this trip, I wanted to splurge for a cab, so I had to go down the block to catch one. I walked with kitty half-way inside a canvas bag, her front half clinging to my shoulder. One man I passed said, "You need to get a real baby to play with." Then he repeated himself with contempt. No doubt he wanted to offer his services, either that or I truly disgusted him. Maybe both. No cabs stopped for the woman holding a cat. I can't blame them. After I stood on the corner for awhile, watching the cabs go by, a homeless woman offered to get me a cab. Then she asked if I had any change I could give her. When she hailed the black caddy I gave her 75 cents.
This catches everything up I believe. Thank you for your concern, it means a lot that so many people who never met me could feel such compassion for me. Happy fun stories should be forthcoming soon.
Love,
JL
Collection:
Adjuncting,
Kitty,
Life
2.20.2005
Anemone
Like a sea anemone pulled into itself, I curl up. My mind doesn't want to write, to give. It wants silence where the introspection lives. Ideas for things to say here pass through the windows of consciousness then I let them drift away again. I think for the time being I must live on autopilot in order to get these things done.
It snows again this evening. Probably the reason I'm typing. This time there is enough snow to make the street beautiful. At least for the night. Everything is frosted white, the cars make wet sounds with their tires, sounds that remind me of living in more southerly and rainy climes. The swirl patterns hypnotize. I turned the lights off in my room so I could open the curtains to shamelessly peer out the windows onto the street. One candle burns. My old cat is stretched across the computer desk slowly swishing her tail down onto my hands on the keyboard, she wheezes but is restful. I hope this week to see the vet. Poor thing. She rests her chin on her paws and looks out the window watching the snow too.
Everything glows orange reflecting the street lights, it looks like the world was filmed with an amber lens. Something haunting and appropriate plays on the classical radio station. The station in NY is good, they don't talk much and they don't chop musical works into 3 minute unsatisfactory and teasing bites, unlike most in my experience. I don't know what piece this is: single vocal, monophonic, sounds like it was written in one of the church modes, maybe a baroque piece written to imitate medieval chant?, accompanied by a string quartet.... she just announced it, all I caught is that it was a Motet by Baldassari.
I have been planning to write a post 'the ghettoland diaries' but then they found the dismembered legs and arm in a plastic bag. Someone put them on the subway tracks near my station. The thought that only a few nights ago some murderer carried the limbs of a nineteen year old boy down my street and down those stairs to dump them on the dark tracks is quite scary. It squelches all my desire to dwell on these surroundings.
Tomorrow I go to Central Park to walk the trails and see 'The Gates' by Christo and Jean-Claude. I had hoped it might snow so I could see them then--lucky me-- I think it will be more impressive in a white park. When I was growing up in Miami, my dentist had a large framed photo of an island that Christo wrapped in pink. I remember being fascinated by the picture. I couldn't believe that anyone would do such a thing and I tried to imagine what it looked like in real life. Here is a link to some photos of 'Wrapped Islands' and the story of that work. Thanks to Lynn for the link.
Like sands in the hourglass... another week of life went by.
(P.S. here's a link with a little peak at and some more links of The Gates. Or, visit the artists' own website. (Thanks Lynn)
It snows again this evening. Probably the reason I'm typing. This time there is enough snow to make the street beautiful. At least for the night. Everything is frosted white, the cars make wet sounds with their tires, sounds that remind me of living in more southerly and rainy climes. The swirl patterns hypnotize. I turned the lights off in my room so I could open the curtains to shamelessly peer out the windows onto the street. One candle burns. My old cat is stretched across the computer desk slowly swishing her tail down onto my hands on the keyboard, she wheezes but is restful. I hope this week to see the vet. Poor thing. She rests her chin on her paws and looks out the window watching the snow too.
Everything glows orange reflecting the street lights, it looks like the world was filmed with an amber lens. Something haunting and appropriate plays on the classical radio station. The station in NY is good, they don't talk much and they don't chop musical works into 3 minute unsatisfactory and teasing bites, unlike most in my experience. I don't know what piece this is: single vocal, monophonic, sounds like it was written in one of the church modes, maybe a baroque piece written to imitate medieval chant?, accompanied by a string quartet.... she just announced it, all I caught is that it was a Motet by Baldassari.
I have been planning to write a post 'the ghettoland diaries' but then they found the dismembered legs and arm in a plastic bag. Someone put them on the subway tracks near my station. The thought that only a few nights ago some murderer carried the limbs of a nineteen year old boy down my street and down those stairs to dump them on the dark tracks is quite scary. It squelches all my desire to dwell on these surroundings.
Tomorrow I go to Central Park to walk the trails and see 'The Gates' by Christo and Jean-Claude. I had hoped it might snow so I could see them then--lucky me-- I think it will be more impressive in a white park. When I was growing up in Miami, my dentist had a large framed photo of an island that Christo wrapped in pink. I remember being fascinated by the picture. I couldn't believe that anyone would do such a thing and I tried to imagine what it looked like in real life. Here is a link to some photos of 'Wrapped Islands' and the story of that work. Thanks to Lynn for the link.
Like sands in the hourglass... another week of life went by.
(P.S. here's a link with a little peak at and some more links of The Gates. Or, visit the artists' own website. (Thanks Lynn)
2.12.2005
Mad World
All around me are familiar faces...Worn out faces...
Going nowhere, Going nowhere...
Four different men have asked me out in the last two days. I have two voicemails, an email and the pizza guy, not one is even remotely interesting. One actually said, "One bad date on a sweltering day when I said some thoughtless things and did some thoughtless things is not a good reason not to go out again." Oh yeah? On what planet is that not a good reason? When it's only the second date and I can't wait to get away from you, that's reason enough never to see you again.
I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
On my way home this evening, after we said goodbye, a woman stopped me on 34th Street. "Excuse me. Hello?" I stopped and looked at her quizzically. She apologized for stopping me. Then she said, "I'm a psychic and I can see something in your aura." I said 'What'? She said, "I see something. . ." Then she rushed out the words 'You have a lot of positive changes coming in your life', like it was the obligatory psychic handshake before she could get to the real stuff. "But right now you have something on your mind. You are confused about love." I laughed out loud.
I find it hard to tell you, 'Cos I find it hard to take
She asked me if I'd ever had a reading before. I told her I had not and that I didn't have any money. She said, "Oh, no. I'm just talking to you. Normally, you'd be coming to Astoria to see me. I wish I had one of my cards on me but I don't." I said, "Oh." Then she started walking away and said, "Maybe I'll see you again." And that was it. She was dressed in nice clothes with a Burberry scarf and just looked like a New York woman going out at night.
No one knew me...
Look right through me, look right through me
Valentine's Day is stupid. I don't care about it, I don't expect anything from anyone and I don't want anything from anyone. But even so, it's cruel. It took me an hour to get home on the train tonight and I was surrounded by lovers. And lots of people holding presents, pink bags, flowers, women dressed up with glowing faces. College kids standing at the pole kissing. The teen punks next to me discussing what the boy was going to get for the girl. She wants new black nail polish. It was almost a relief to have the beggar who fakes that he's deaf come into the car. He was followed by Mr.I have HIV I'm hungry anything you can spare but I've got on my RocaWear gear.
Children waiting for the day they feel good...
I wanted to rent a bunch of slasher pics for the weekend. BUT THERE IS NO VIDEO STORE IN MY HOOD--except the damn Kung fu porn place. On my way home, I stopped in the midtown Duane Reade to check out their new dvd rental vending machines, but you have to return the disks in 6 hours. I wasn't trekking back from Brooklyn just for some bad horror movies. If I had remembered, I could have gone by Central Park last night to see The Gates. That would have been cool to see at night, and a nice dessert to top off my deli dinner quiche. But I didn't think to do that.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
My old cat is losing weight so I'm worried now that she might be sick. She's always been obese but the last month she's slimmed way down and become weirdly affectionate. She can't be sick. I can't deal with losing her right now. 9 years she's been my comfort. Take away everything else--but please, please leave her with me.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
Quotes from Tears for Fears "Mad World"
Going nowhere, Going nowhere...
Four different men have asked me out in the last two days. I have two voicemails, an email and the pizza guy, not one is even remotely interesting. One actually said, "One bad date on a sweltering day when I said some thoughtless things and did some thoughtless things is not a good reason not to go out again." Oh yeah? On what planet is that not a good reason? When it's only the second date and I can't wait to get away from you, that's reason enough never to see you again.
I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
On my way home this evening, after we said goodbye, a woman stopped me on 34th Street. "Excuse me. Hello?" I stopped and looked at her quizzically. She apologized for stopping me. Then she said, "I'm a psychic and I can see something in your aura." I said 'What'? She said, "I see something. . ." Then she rushed out the words 'You have a lot of positive changes coming in your life', like it was the obligatory psychic handshake before she could get to the real stuff. "But right now you have something on your mind. You are confused about love." I laughed out loud.
I find it hard to tell you, 'Cos I find it hard to take
She asked me if I'd ever had a reading before. I told her I had not and that I didn't have any money. She said, "Oh, no. I'm just talking to you. Normally, you'd be coming to Astoria to see me. I wish I had one of my cards on me but I don't." I said, "Oh." Then she started walking away and said, "Maybe I'll see you again." And that was it. She was dressed in nice clothes with a Burberry scarf and just looked like a New York woman going out at night.
No one knew me...
Look right through me, look right through me
Valentine's Day is stupid. I don't care about it, I don't expect anything from anyone and I don't want anything from anyone. But even so, it's cruel. It took me an hour to get home on the train tonight and I was surrounded by lovers. And lots of people holding presents, pink bags, flowers, women dressed up with glowing faces. College kids standing at the pole kissing. The teen punks next to me discussing what the boy was going to get for the girl. She wants new black nail polish. It was almost a relief to have the beggar who fakes that he's deaf come into the car. He was followed by Mr.I have HIV I'm hungry anything you can spare but I've got on my RocaWear gear.
Children waiting for the day they feel good...
I wanted to rent a bunch of slasher pics for the weekend. BUT THERE IS NO VIDEO STORE IN MY HOOD--except the damn Kung fu porn place. On my way home, I stopped in the midtown Duane Reade to check out their new dvd rental vending machines, but you have to return the disks in 6 hours. I wasn't trekking back from Brooklyn just for some bad horror movies. If I had remembered, I could have gone by Central Park last night to see The Gates. That would have been cool to see at night, and a nice dessert to top off my deli dinner quiche. But I didn't think to do that.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
My old cat is losing weight so I'm worried now that she might be sick. She's always been obese but the last month she's slimmed way down and become weirdly affectionate. She can't be sick. I can't deal with losing her right now. 9 years she's been my comfort. Take away everything else--but please, please leave her with me.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
Quotes from Tears for Fears "Mad World"
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