Perpetual Smile

Pam wasn’t kidding when she said the Seroquel would make me drowsy. I took it at about 12 or 1am, and by 2am I could barely hold my own head up. Today I’ve been pretty lethargic; all I want to do is, well, nothing. She said it would pass after a few days. I’m pretty sure she said it would phase out once I hit the 150mg dosage, which is about five days from now.

I just downed a cup of coffee, though, and I feel a bit more lively now.

Speaking of lively, today’s been an interesting day. Remember how I told you about my living situation? You know: my parents, great-grandmother, and Apollo the cat on the first floor, my great-aunt on the second floor with her cat Charlie, and my sister, grandparents, Squirt the cat, and I on the third floor. My grandparents and parents ended up making the switch, so now Mom, Dad, Lauren, and I live on the third floor, and Noni, Popi, and Biz Noni live on the first.

We decided that we would eventually move Apollo up here, too, but knew that it would be rough because Squirt? Is Napoleon in disguise. She weighs maybe eight pounds soaking wet, but she’s got tons of attitude to make up for how teeny she is. Apollo, on the other hand, weighs probably two or three times as much as she does, but he is a big baby. Squirt originally belonged to my ex-boyfriend, and his family didn’t treat their cats very well. I found Apollo outside a few years after my ex gave me Squirt. He was a teeny, orphaned kitten, and you could tell that he had been dumped by his original owners.

So we knew that Squirt was pretty much going to push Apollo around. We decided to move him upstairs last night, and it’s been a Mexican standoff since. Right now, we have a door with a glass window standing between them, with him prowling most of her territory. Last night and most of today, she had him cowering in a corner. Even though she is my baby, I felt really bad for him, so I moved his litter and food into the corner with him and as soon as she left the living/dining rooms, we closed the door behind her. Now he is all badass, like, “What, bitch? You can’t touch me now!” Currently he is exploring under my desk and she is sulking in the window in the pantry, I think.

Squirt has always been my buddy, but I couldn’t stand seeing Apollo hiding under a table, not coming out to eat or drink; if he so much as raised his head, she would start to hiss at him, and if he tried to come out, she would charge. She is scary for such a tiny little thing; she has kicked my ass on more than one occasion.

But I love them both. I hope they at least learn to ignore each other.

I need your advice! Have you ever introduced a new pet to your current pets? How did you do it? Did they become friends? Is there hope? Please leave a comment with your pet advice!

I decided that, for the next week, I’m going to title all of my posts using the letters in my nickname, L-I-Z, no S. I’m doing this because the spambots think I’m awesome, so if my human readers think it’s lame, at least I have the bots. Here’s what my newest fan, a bot named Luciano, had to say after reading my post on the super excited girl at the bar who decided to have a baby because of me:

Merely want to say your article is striking. The clearness in your post is simply spectacular and i can assume you are an expert on this subject. Well with your permission allow me to grab your rss feed to keep up to date with incoming post. Thanks a million and please keep up the effective work.

In short: my writing is striking, spectacular, and I am an effective expert. Thank you, spambot.

The problem with this title scheme, guys, is that there are only so many Z words. The only Z word I can think of is zebra. This is where you come in.

I need you to leave me comments with your favorite Z words. I’m especially counting on the spambots, since they are getting pretty damn smart. Not that you humans aren’t smart. I’m just saying that the spambots tend to spit stuff out depending on what they see. So if they see the letter Z, they are going to go crazy and leave all kinds of Z words.

In fact, I think that spambots are the next superior race on planet Earth.

They will be so much more advanced than us, in ways that I — in all of my spambot-blessed expertise — cannot ever imagine. I mean, they’re already ahead of us. They are INVISIBLE, for crying out loud! If a spambot was here in my house right now, looking over my shoulder as I type this, I wouldn’t know it.

They also have a great sense of humor. The spambot in that post is funnier than Mepsipax, Avitable, and Allie combined. (Then again, Allie made a great documentary about the Battle of Twitterloo. If you don’t believe me, press play.)

So maybe Allie can one-up the spambots. I’m not sure. But I do know that they are going to be the next superior race, and before this happens I need to write as many L-I-Z acronym posts as possible. (My apologies to those of you who thought this one was gonna be about lesbians in sexy zebra stripe underwear.) So give me your best Z words, or the Fun-Size Kitty of DOOM will eat you!

Donated Z Words:
Please note that Z words are rare and endangered. Donating a Z word to my blog will keep them safe from spambots and Fun-Size kitties.

Zebra
Zig (Mike)
Zag (Mike)
Zipper (Mike)
Zinger (Mike)
Zelda*
Zandra*

*Z names count. If you don’t believe me, prepare to answer to Fun-Size kitty.

Zit
Zombie (Me, Taliana83)

Zap (Allie)
Zaps (Allie)
Zapped (Allie)
Zapping (Allie)
Zoo (Allie, Taliana83)
Zenith (Allie)
Zany (Allie)
Zodiac (Allie)
Zephyr (Allie)
Zealot (Allie)
Zeal (Allie)
Zealous (Allie)
Zen (Allie, Taliana83)
Zero (Allie)
Zest (Allie)
Zesty (Allie)
Zestful (Allie)
Zimbabwe (sagasky)

And then @BookGeekGal kicked some major Z ass (01/10/2010, 12:49am):

Spambots, you are letting me down! Are you really going to let a bunch of humans out-Z you?

Update 01/10/2010, 12:56am: The spambots are fighting back, but instead of Z words, they’re insulting me!

This means war!!

Update 01/10/2010, 1:34am:

Update 01/10/2010, 2:34am: It’s totally fucking weird that I’m updating EXACTLY AN HOUR LATER, but it’s even weirder that the spambots are now kicking our asses. They can speak an assload of Russian, so they win this battle 3-2. I am too lazy to take and post a screenshot, but believe me, they dumped a whole mess of Russian into my blog comments. (Thank goodness for Akismet, or they would have taken over my blog!)

Their hefty block of Cyrillic smack-talking translates to:

Listen up, puny Earthlings. We are INVISIBLE, have no need for Z words, and can DESTROY your bandwidth with just the power of our MINDS. Also, we speak Russian and 19 million other languages, including ones you have not discovered yet. Surrender now or prepare to fight! Meow, that’s right!†

We will get them next time…

---

†If you can tell me what this is from WITHOUT GOOGLING, because that would show weakness to the spambots, I’ll whore your blog/Twitter/website/pictures of your cat on my Twitter.

I only get out of control with shopping if there are two variables involved: Target and Staples. I went into Staples yesterday planning on spending a max of $10. I planned on getting a couple binders and some pens (I keep losing pens). I walked out with a laptop cart, an ergonomic plastic bean filled wrist rest, a pocket size dictionary, a pocket size thesaurus, two binders, a box of pens, a copy holder (so that you can stand paper up when you have to type something up)… You get the picture.

The thing is, I couldn’t not buy the desk, wrist rest, and copy holder because I’ve been saying for months that I need these things. Obviously, they could very well help decrease the amount of pain I experience day to day. So I was totally justified when I broke into my savings account to help cover the cost. This time.

At any rate, I had a lot of fun putting it together.

My dad took video of me putting together some of this because he thought it might end up being really amusing, but I have to get it from him. To be fair, he did help me a little, and if it weren’t for him I would have put it together backward. Heh.

I’ll add that video whenever Dad gets to uploading it to Facebook.

I’m a rockstar at this blogging thing, I know. You don’t have to tell me how great I am at posting every day, and you definitely don’t have to tell me that I post way too much.

Ahem.

These last few weeks have been insane! I wish that I could remember everything but, sadly, my brain is wiped clean. I have enough trouble talking and putting words together into coherent sentences, never mind trying to remember everything that’s been going on. I now know how Ozzy feels.

I’m not even sure where to begin, as I can’t remember what I last wrote about and am way too lazy to actually go hunting through the two or so posts I’ve written in the last couple of months, so let’s just cut to the chase: car (Lisa Mazda) is dead, all I’ve been doing is working, my story “Anonymiss” won second place in this year’s Fresh Ink contest over at Naugatuck Valley, and I can meow.

The 2009 Writers’ Conference was Wednesday, and the guest speaker was Everett Hoagland, a poet from Massachusetts. His poems were really, really good. I literally fell into a sort of trance as I listened to him read. They were filled with a rhythm that I swear only African-American poets have. Even this guy’s presence was amazing; he was just so composed and peaceful.

I read my winning story from last year’s Fresh Ink, “Moon Prayer,” just before the awards for this year’s contest were presented, and after I read Everett pulled me aside and asked me how long I’ve been writing. I told him since about third grade, and remembered the story about dalmatians I wrote with my classmate Sherry-Lee. (I don’t remember what that story was about, only that it was about dalmatians and that we wrote and illustrated it on darker fuchsia construction paper.)

“I can tell you take this seriously,” he told me. “For you to write such detail, to know so much about someone who is so different from you, is amazing.”

I could barely speak, I was so astonished that this amazing man loved my story.

“You are already an accomplished writer. We’re going to be hearing about you,” he said. He said that to me several times throughout the day.

I don’t think I’m a bad writer. I mean, I know I’ve got a little talent, I guess. Several teachers, family, friends, and Professor Harding have told me over and over that I have talent. I guess I always just thought they were biased, because most of these people really liked me to begin with. For this guy, someone who did not know me at all, to hear one story and say those amazing things to me… Well, it meant a lot. He was so, so inspiring.

I felt really good about the whole day, actually. I got to connect with a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while, and Professor Harding and I went over a little of The Cure Program. To make things even better, Mike spent the whole day with me because I don’t have a car and had no other way of getting there. He said he had a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed having him there. We had a blast during the writers’ workshop that Professor Harding did.

As strange as it sounds, I really miss NVCC. I’ve never missed an old school before. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But I truly did fit in at that community college, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that “snug” anywhere else. I think that’s as good as it gets for me.

I had a lot more I wanted to write about, but I want to get to bed. Maybe I’ll update again before July. (;

I’m singing the Spice Girls right now and my cat has probably OD’d on Lithium, she’s so happy.

Tonight is going to rock, despite all of the shoot-me-now my life has been lately. I’m going to see Watchmen with Mike, and it’s going to be awesome. I’ve never read the graphic novel, but the trailer just looks so cool I think I’m going to be obsessed. In fact, there is a discount book store in my city that just opened, so I think Mike and I are going to check that out today. Maybe they’ll have the book and I won’t have to feel guilty about spending any money because everything in there is (supposedly) 40% off regular seller prices.

Last night was the season finale of Burn Notice. The new season starts in June. I’m going to die between now and then. Speaking of TV, I’m behind on Dollhouse and probably going to miss tonight’s episode. Whoever decided to put it on a Friday night is a moron. No one is home Friday night. I hope they count the number of views the episodes on the Fox website get, because I doubt the TV ratings are very high.

We also watched Religulous last night. I agreed with a lot of what Bill Maher said. My mom is Protestant and my dad is Catholic, though neither of them are hardcore about it. I was baptized Protestant and raised with a little bit of both. Mom always made us go to church on Sundays with her mother, while Dad stayed at home and watched Nascar. (I never got why it was okay for him to stay home but I had to endure two hours of either Sunday school or the pastor droning on and on. My favorite part about church was the Italian bread and grape juice. Oh, that and going home and playing with my toys afterward.)

I can’t remember exactly when I stopped going, but eventually my mom gave up on dragging me out of bed to go somewhere I didn’t want to be. Religion just never made sense for me. I listened to the stories and teachings, but I had a hard time believing in something I couldn’t see or feel. I tried exploring other religions for a while. I practiced Wicca and read about Druidism. I studied the Muslim religion in eighth grade. As interesting as it all was, I didn’t take any of it seriously.

I don’t believe in any kind of higher power. I am a firm believer of living my own life the way I want to, and treating others the way I want to be treated. I practice being happy and being a good person. I’ve been called a Satanist, and I’ve had people stop talking to me just because I don’t believe in any kind of god. (For the record, I don’t believe in any kind of devil, either. I think people have the freedom to be good or evil.) I once got fired from a job for no real reason, and I still believe to this day that it was because I don’t have a religion. (My boss and coworkers were all religious in some way.)

Religion is a touchy subject for most people. Don’t get me wrong. I am fascinated by other people’s beliefs. It’s interesting to me, but I take as much stock in it as I take in the spaghetti monster in the sky. (I did that just for you, Mike. I know you’re reading this, even though you never comment. Lazy ass.) I won’t not talk to someone just because of their religion. As weird as some practices may seem to me — like Scientology — I won’t dispute that it’s something people believe in. You believe what you wanna believe. I’ll leave you alone, as long as you leave me alone. Don’t interrogate me or tell me what I need to believe. Don’t try to force me into praying, or I’ll sick the vicious kitty on you:

I’m using an old cell phone right now, from the ancient year of 1998. It’s about the size of a house phone and the ring tones are horrid.

I spent most of last night and the early hours of this morning with Mike. I can’t remember much, thanks to Ultram, but I remember laughing a lot and watching a lot of TV.

I’m really worried about my best friend right now. She won’t answer her phone and she hasn’t returned any of my calls in the last couple of days. It’s not like her to shut me out like this. I know she’s been feeling really down lately, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but we usually hang out Fridays so I thought she would have called me back by now.

I have a meeting on Tuesday with someone from a big web design freelancing firm. The purpose of the meeting is to discuss my portfolio and skills, and to fill out tax forms. I’m pretty sure that I am now one of their consultants. Hopefully they can get me some extra work really soon. I am trying not to worry about any of my financial problems, but they are always hanging out in the back of my head. My parents think I am bugshit crazy for taking on all of these things right now, but they should know better. I have always been an overachiever. I’m the girl you can count on, because I see everything through to the end, but just like all of those other creative folks, I’m always a hair trigger away from a meltdown.

I’ve become obsessed with hiding my problems. I’m not sure if it’s the right choice, but I’m tired of hiding. It’s nice to meet you, world. I am a talented web designer and writer. I can draw, paint, sing, and I love making handmade cards. I’m also a depressive, quite possibly undiagnosed bipolar or maybe even undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. I refuse to see a counselor or get any other kind of professional help. My current coping method is denial and ice cream.

Now that that’s off my chest.

My cat has been following me around all morning and afternoon. She woke me up with her big mouth, and she won’t stop attention whoring. She is currently curled up on the floor in front of me. She looks kind of depressed. Can someone get her some catnip? I’m busy coding.

In the last two days I’ve become hopelessly addicted to grape Kool-Aid. I bought a box of those little packets you can add to your water, and that’s all I’ve been drinking. The point was to save some money — I buy a cup of coffee every morning — but now I think I’ll end up homeless, and all because of Kool-Aid.

My cat has found herself an addiction, as well. I bought a pack of Doublemint gum and keep it in my purse. Last night she pulled it out of my open purse and was chewing on it. I put it away and zipped up the purse, but this morning I found the purse knocked aside as if she’d been rubbing her face on it. This afternoon she sat so close to the purse I thought she was going to OD. I think she likes the way the mint smells, but it’s really funny. I put the purse next to her this evening and she rubbed her face all over it and then looked mad when I took it away. Spearmint, apparently, is her crack.

So, tomorrow is the election. I really think that Obama is going to win. I won’t be mad if McCain wins, because I think they could both do a great job, but I really believe that Obama is going to make changes here at home, and that is what we need. I don’t really dislike anyone in this race, which was what made it so hard. Tomorrow will be the first time I am voting, and Mike is voting too. He has never voted and is “tired of rich white guys” running the joint. The really tough part about this race was, like Secondhand Karl said, there was hardly any talk about the issues. I think Obama talked more about the issues than McCain did.

Anyway, politics are boring. How about those jack-o-lantern pictures I promised? Read the rest of this entry »

Some nights there is a furry monster at the foot of my bed.
If I keep real still and don’t move my feet, she’ll leave me alone.
In the dark I can see her bright green eyes,
Like the eyes of aliens at midnight.
She springs up and takes off, claws digging into my leg as she heads for the door
And scrambles up the curtain like a monkey climbing a tree.
In her wake are pieces of paper — that letter I was going to send to a pen pal –
And knick knacks knocked down.