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It’s been awhile. I’ve failed at the PostAWeek thing. I’ve failed a lot this year. And others have failed me.

October 6 – lost my job. Brutally. They didn’t give me a good answer as to why. Just a lame “you don’t have the skills and experience we require”, a severance agreement to sign, and a failed attempt to transfer my work computer files over to my server. There was little to no sympathy from the person I needed it from the most. But that’s to be expected and will make sense in the next paragraph.

November 4/5 (late night/early morning) – Irish broke up with me. Another brutal blow. Spurred by AngryGinger, who had the best of intentions to see his friends happy. I get that, though it didn’t exactly help us be happy. And now I will always “remember, remember the 5th of November” as that day. The day I lost everything. Again. The day I had to find a way back into AngryGinger’s locked house to get my glasses so I could drive home at 7am after not sleeping at all, but just crying for 6 hours. The day I twisted my ankle horribly in those stupid 4 inch heel boots while trying to find the back porch to try the sliding door to get inside. The day I again got no sympathy from those closest to me.

I don’t know if it helped him be happy, but it sure didn’t work for me. I was suddenly very much alone. And fragile. And there were at least 2 weeks with daily breakdowns, crying, yelling, anger, more crying, emptiness, and general misery. The breakdowns slowed to a few times per week, and have now abated to about twice per week.

This whole situation, including the job loss, the heartbreak, and the lack of a proper support system, succeeded in setting off my latent depression and suicidal tendencies. I was struggling everyday to even function. I wouldn’t get out of bed until after noon, would cry uncontrollably for hours, and started staying up until 4am, doing nothing at all. I constantly considered the possibilities before me. The easy solution became very appealing. With the only thought against it being, who would take care of Thomas? I’ve never had something depend on me for life. And I couldn’t do that to him. Somehow I could deal with upsetting the very few people who would really feel pain by it, but I couldn’t let Thomas become homeless again, or die in a shelter, or be raised by someone who isn’t good enough. That amuses me in a very morbid way. But still, it’s funny to think that the cat saved my life. He kept me from doing the unmentionable. So I thank him for that. Especially because things have slightly improved.

December 6 – started a new job. Not perfect, but it’s a good atmosphere, good people, great commute, and easy work.

December 9 – realized I love my job, causing my first positive manic state in a long, long time. It didn’t last long though.

December 15 – tried to reach out and open myself up to someone, and was instead torn apart, heartbroken, and then resolved not to do it again. And found that I’m definitely not ready for anything at all. Even if it seems safe.

December 16 – went to a doctor. Now I’m back on the medication. Hopefully this will help with the depression. We’ll see in a few weeks or so.

I haven’t had the energy to do anything over the last few months. Especially in the last several weeks. Hence the lack of posting. Hopefully this will be the renewal of my blogging and I’ll get back into it. One can only hope.

I’ve been avoiding writing this post because I knew what it would mean. It’d be admitting that this has all happened. Admitting that I am alone, now more than ever. That no matter what I do, and how good my life is going, something is going to come along and fuck it all up. That I can’t stop the inevitable and to try is futile, painful, and just makes it worse for everyone in the end. That enjoying the moment is all well and good, but it comes with the knowledge that there will be bad to outweigh that good, eventually. Basically that life sucks and I need to get used to having my heart broken and being disappointed and alone. But also that I need to see what I have, when I have it, and before it’s gone – but not to hold onto it too tightly, because it’ll just shrink from my affections and run away, leaving me more alone and confused than I can imagine.

Things need to change. Hopefully the new year will bring that for me.

Our family has a brand new member: Thomas O’Malley.

Thomas O'Malley - Tabby Extraordinaire

Thomas O'Malley - Tabby Extraordinaire - in his cat cave


His name is sufficiently geeky and awesome, as it’s Irish and a cartoon character, which is fitting, according to Schaffer the Darklord’s Nerd Lust “Tell my about your kitties do they fill you with laughter? And which cartoon characters did you name them after?” He’s named for the Disney Aristocats protagonist, so his full name is Abraham de Lacy Giuseppe Casey Thomas O’Malley. He’s an adorable little orange ball of fur and I loves him. Irish seems to love him too, since he was playing with him and petting him a lot. It was nice to seem him so affectionate and adoring.

I’m taking him to the vet tonight for his shots and a basic checkup to make sure he’s healthy. We don’t think his mother’s owner was really taking care of the kittens that well and he’s so small it looks like he wasn’t getting enough food. But now he’s in a happy, loving forever home and I hope he enjoys living with us.

Also, it seems we now have a mewing alarm clock. But it’s adorable, if not a little heartbreaking. I had to fight the urge to go comfort him last night when we went to bed, when the mewing started. To my surprise, Irish got up and went to console and pet him a bit, then came back to bed. The mewing stopped. This morning we took turns calling to him softly, reassuring him we were still there for him. “It’s okay Thomas,” Irish called softly. The mewing slowed. A few minutes later, he started up again. I called to him this time, “Thomas, it’s alright sweetie.” The mewing stopped. I guess he already is getting to know my voice. He was playing with my feet when I was getting ready for work this morning too. It was cute.

He’ll be staying in the bathroom while we’re at work until he’s a bit bigger and understands not to claw things up. The last thing I want is to come home and find our new(ish) couch destroyed. But as soon as one of us is home, the door opens and he’s allowed to wander to his heart’s content. Not that he has yet.

It just feels great having another living thing in the house. I realized that now, there’s a small living creature that depends on me for life. It’s an amazing feeling. I’m just glad to get this feeling from a cat and not a child. But anyway, there are more pictures of the kitten here. I’ll also be making a Facebook album for pics of him.

Hopefully his first vet visit goes well tonight. And I may need to buy some Benedryl to get me through the first week or so. Itchy eyes and such. Plus allergy season is here on top of it. Joy. But anyway, he’s got a new home, all his brothers and sisters got adopted yesterday, so none of them were taken to the shelter, and I finally have my first real pet ever. So awesome!

I’ve been talking to Spitfire a lot online in the mornings at work and today got pretty deep into the nitty gritty of relationships and our respective troubles with them. In respect to something we talked about today, I found this excerpt from Holly’s blog particularly insightful and applicable:

I guess what most of these guys are saying is “I’m not getting laid and I see that other people are, so those other people must have some super magical unfair advantage.” Well, sort of, but that advantage is a lot more common than you think, and has a lot less to do with “being a millionaire lawyer with perfect abs” and a lot more to do with “acting like women are people.” As long as women are The Challenge, The Enemy, The Gatekeeper, The Quarry, or any other fucked-up-all-to-hell metaphor, you’re going to keep having trouble with us.

If we’re people, well… no more and no less trouble than any other kind of people, is all I can promise you.

Hopefully he’ll read this. In fact, Spitfire, you really should read more of Holly’s blog. It’s quite awesome and full of sexy times and insight into the minds of the types of women who are actually worth your time. Aka not bitches, but cool geeky chicks. Who like sex. Wait, that’s redundant. Har.

I did, however, find the painful irony and unfortunate bits of me giving advice on relationships to Spitfire: I can’t seem to take my own advice. I can tell him all I want that he can do this or this and that it could help him with women, but I feel like it means almost nothing coming from someone who isn’t in the perfect relationship as it is. Sigh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with Irish, happier than with any other boyfriends I’ve had, but I’m well aware that the situation could be improved.

Actually, I was working on dealing with some problems and trying to improve our relationship through good, old-fashioned communication, but right at the climax of our chat, AngryGinger arrived for video game playing. So there’s currently a big pause button on the conversation. Hoping it’ll resume when AG leaves tonight.

And it’s nothing against him, but he has the worst timing for these kinds of things. But it’s a bit my own fault, since I knew he was coming over tonight and just couldn’t get up the nerve to talk about things with Irish until the last minute. As per usual.

Well, they’re still playing Marvel vs Capcom 3, so I’m gonna sit here and read my smut.

Last night was pretty awesome. Went to the shooting range again with Irish, AngryGinger, and Gadget. I kept having terrible luck with guns jamming and misfiring. I don’t know if it was me or the guns but I went back to a Sig instead and had better luck. Still jammed but not as bad. And at least the clip was a lot easier to load than the others. They clearly don’t clean their guns properly at all. But here’s the results with the Sig:

I’m pretty proud of this. And I did it pretty quickly too cuz the place was closing in a minute.

Afterward, we went to get drinks and food at Applebees since they were doing their Saint Practice Day specials, it being the Friday before St. Patrick’s Day and all. We got green beer and boneless wings.

And of course after a pitcher of green Yuengling, I had to grab a green margarita… Which are normally green in color but oh well, tequila!

Overall, a fantastic way to start the irishest week of the year.

We were eating lunch and I found where I left off on Holly’s Blog. The post contained this paragraph:

And yet I can’t help but feel unfulfilled being unfilled. Partly this is because of baggage: if a guy can’t get it up for intercourse that means I’m not sexy and if he refuses intercourse that means he doesn’t really like me. (Especially as popular wisdom holds that guys never refuse intercourse, therefore if it happens to me it must be really bad news.) Some of that’s probably true, too. Not “augh I’m a warthog,” but “I don’t have a close enough relationship with anyone for them to be fully sexually open to me” really is true, I think.

This is how I feel way too often. I mean, I know I’m not the prettiest princess and that I really need to lose a few pounds… or 20… but that doesn’t mean I’m not attractive. Plenty of guys let me know that I’m attractive. I get hit on or at least checked out, which actually feels nice, all things considered. But what feels the best is when close friends make it clear that I deserve so much, because they think I’m special and fantastic and attractive. Granted, most of them might just say those things because they want to steal me away from Irish or something. Who knows? I can only TRY to understand what others think.

I guess what I just don’t understand then is how my current situation happens. Holly’s post was talking about having a lot of everything-but sex which was leaving her feeling unfulfilled. I would love that to be my situation. At least it’s something. I just hate feeling like I’m not attractive because I’m not getting attention from the only one who actually matters.

And it’s not like we haven’t talked about it, either. Because we have. Ad nauseam. But I guess it just goes to show that what they say is true, you can’t change a man. But I keep trying regardless.

Maybe I’m being too needy or something again.

I’m gonna go catch up on some more Pervocracy, since Irish is playing Fallout. So much for hitting the gym together. Sigh.

When a girl mentions in passing that she’s not into all that cliche Valentine’s Day stuff… ignoring it is usually a safe bet.

Case in point:
While talking to Irish a few weeks ago, I had mentioned my Valentine’s Day experience from last year, including how Jay had gotten me everything – teddy bear, balloon, flowers, card, chocolates, etc. – because I had never gotten any of that stuff before. But in that case, it was too little, too late. Damage had been done to the relationship that just couldn’t be undone with cute or tasty gifts.

Well even after hearing that, I received an edible arrangement, teddy bear, and balloon at work yesterday. It was awesome and I was squeeing like a fool. Unfortunately it was after 5 so most people had gone home, but I still texted some friends and ran to my girl upstairs to have a girly squealing fit together. And to share a chocolate covered piece of fruit.

I had already received a box of chocolates from Irish that he had AngryGinger grab for him, and I figured that was all I’d be getting. I was wrong. And I’m glad I was.

Also, when he was making the steaks for dinner (so very delicious), I checked my email and saw he had sent me a gift certificate for Squishable.com so that I can get myself a fox when it comes back in stock. I started squeeing again and ran over and hugged him for ages. It was awesome.

So the safest bet when it comes to Valentine’s, or really any holiday, is to get your girl something small at least, just to show you care. Even if it’s just a card. But if you think she’s more receptive, then go bigger, because it will be appreciated, and you will get hella brownie points.

Even is she says she doesn’t want to exchange gifts, you should still get her something. Saying that you’re not going to get each other gifts on a holiday for financial reasons or something is a TRAP. Better safe than sorry, and in this case it’s better to err on the side of giving too much, to an extent of course. Keep it sweet and simple.

Finally, he’s home. Thank god. Now I can sleep. Maybe.

It’s been 8 hours and he’s not home from work. He got his car stuck near the 495 onramp. Then again as soon as he got to 495. His phone is dead or at least off. I’m worrying out of my mind and it’s late. I’m afraid he’ll freeze to death on the side of the road somewhere.

I just shoveled at least 8 inches of snow off the driveway, walk, and steps so he can get in when he finally gets here. And I cleaned my car off. I can’t really work from home tomorrow since I forgot to upload my work to the server to access remotely.

Crap.

Just wanted to do a quick post before I leave for the day. And I just finished up a project today that’s called a “quick hit”, hence the post title.

Monday morning I woke up sick. And I mean siiiick…. It was pretty terrible. I had apparently eaten something bad on Sunday. I didn’t even leave the bathroom all morning and still went to work, then was sent home after my work for the day got distributed to others and I finished whatever I had to do then. I only got docked 4 hours and that’s out of my sick time anyway, so it’s fine.

Irish was off for MLK day and I got him to hit CVS for some Imodium and Powerade. Granted, he went out of his way and got himself lunch while he was out, even though CVS is 2 minutes from our house and I was miserable…. but anyway…

I slept and laid around all day and he played Red Dead Redemption, ignored me and my pain, and enjoyed his day off. I felt like I was imposing on him or something, since he didn’t get to have the house to himself as he wanted.

I had found all 4 Resident Evil movies recently, so we watched the first 2 that night. They were better than expected. I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep well because of them though, but I was fine. Slept like a rock in fact. And thankfully so, cuz I woke up feeling better, not 100%, but better. I went to work, ate weird “safe” foods, and muddled through.

I’m feeling a lot better now though. And although I don’t want to cut this short, it’s 5pm, and I’m outta here.

Later.

 

After that whole fandango went down, we were talking about our previous Valentine experiences. I told him how until last year, I hadn’t had the stereotypical gifts on V-Day (candy, card, balloon, bear, etc.), but Jay changed that. And it was stupid and terrible. Also, it was made worse by the fact that I didn’t love him anymore, but that’s beside the point.

I mentioned that other than the gifts, I couldn’t remember V-Day being all that good with Jay. Then he said, “I think WE were together on Valentine’s Day.” This was a huge memory shock. I had almost forgotten about that. We went to Don Pablos for dinner and had the Fajitas for Two Valentine’s Special (which I found amusing, and now ironic) and then we saw Percy Jackson: Lightning Thief. I remember using AngryGinger as my cover story since Jay hated the mere idea of Irish, let alone me being alone with him. And for good reason I guess.

So here we are, and we’ve come full circle. I’m a college grad now, I’m no longer on psych meds, I’m employed at a good company that is actually 9-5, we’re living together, and he’s finally learning to be a boyfriend, kinda.

Life isn’t perfect. It’s an adventure.

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