Sometimes anything’s better than nothing at all

I’ve noticed my emotions are blurring drastically. I’m not exactly sure when this started, but it’s been about a week and a half. Mr. Shrinky said he’s noticing the hideous signs of depression in me: mouth shut, absence of emotions, … Continue reading

Kitties, Chaplin and bangs

Today I got something similar to an idea for a post I can actually write (I got tons of awesome ideas for posts that somehow just can’t write). It may be just a tad lame, but hey, I once heard it’s better if inspiration catches you working, so that’s what I’m doing. Anyhow, as my title very subtly implies, I will be talking about kitties, and bangs, with just a sprinkle of Chaplin.

First things first. Yesterday, I went to get my hair cut, just a little trimming of my hair ends* really, and when I sat down on the chair and the girl asked me what I wanted to get done, I just couldn’t stop myself from saying: bangs! And so, today was my first day out with a bunch of hair on my face. Not particularly comfortable, but I think I’ll be able to deal with it. Today was also a quite social day for me, which I loved (not). First I went to have breakfast with some of the teachers from work. I really wish I could get more in-sync with them ’cause they do try to include me in their stuff, but I just can’t let go and open up, it’s really hard to let my guard down, and I’m learning it only gets harder with age. That, and the breakfast was stressful in itself because it meant I was in a social situation where I was required to eat. And boy if I did! Well, I guess objectively speaking it wasn’t all that much, but compared to what I’ve been eating lately it was a huge change, and it forced me to not eat anything else throughout the day except for diet coke and coffee.

This little issue reminds me that I had a sort of a sour session yesterday with Mr. Shrinky. He was fishing for details regarding my weight and what I’ve been eating, and I just wasn’t prepared for that kind of questioning from him. Mainly because I’m used to expecting those kinds of questions only from N, but also because I was upset he didn’t notice my bangs! I know, it sounds silly, but I remarked how unfair it seems that I notice every little change both in his office and in him, things that he’s even told me nobody else notices, and he can’t even notice that half of my face is covered in hair. It just made me feel like he doesn’t really care, like my assumption that I’m just the 5 o’clock appointment is true. This, together with the knowledge that I won’t see him next week because of spring break, got me in an I’m-not-talking mood, which isn’t exactly the most fruitful mood in therapy. I’ll see him tomorrow again before the break, let’s see how that goes.

After stuffing my face in the morning, in the evening I met a dear friend from uni (my only remaining friend from uni actually) whom I don’t see very much these days with all the things we both have to do now school’s over. We met at a midway mall ’cause we live in what would be opposite sides of the city if Mexico’s City were a normally sized town. We had a lovely chat. Not that we talked about butterflies and clouds, we actually discussed sad and angering issues, but it was lovely to share our mutual stuff with a girlfriend who cares. And then, though I’m not much a buyer ever since my depressive shopping-lollapalloza that’s still has me tied by the balls to the freakin’ banks (excuse my princess-like vocabulary), I agreed to accompany her to a couple of stores to get some stuff she needed, and that’s when the magic happened. I found the cutest kitten tee I’d seen, and just couldn’t help myself when I grabbed it and walked right up to the slaughterhouse cash register. As we were leaving, I found yet another item that seemed just perfect for me, a Chaplin tee! I’m a huge Chaplin fan, though I don’t own many Chaplin memorabilia, so I thought for a sec about taking the kitties back to get Chaplin home. I’m just not in a position to buy two things on the same day anymore, but before I made a decision my friend grabbed the tee and paid for it, she gave it to me as a birthday gift, and so I got out of there with two adorable pieces of clothing and with the feeling that my friend was trying to find ways to express she’s missed me and cares for me.

I know that this post is all over the place and serves no apparent purpose, but as I said I’m just trying to keep the words coming in the hopes that the good ones come back, I certainly don’t want to spend yet another week without writing.  Anyways, maybe wishing you don’t think you’ve completely wasted your time by reading me, let me at least show you what I’ve been rambling about:

Me and my bangs, together with the kitty tee:

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The Chaplin tee, which I’ll proudly wear tomorrow:

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Hope I’ll see y’all real soon!

Chatte

*Is that the way you call the tips of the hair? Being a non-native speaker, I sometimes get the idea that I use awkward, old-fashioned, or right out non-existent terms, so if you catch any one of these in my posts, do let me know, it’ll be much appreciated!

Sweeping the crumbs of despair

Been sitting here for two hours looking at my attempt of a draft of my final chapter of the Frankenthesis. It’s not really the last chapter, it’s the second one, but it’s the only one I’m missing. Have to deliver it by Friday so that it can be checked and read by the people at the dreaded thesis seminar. I’ve gotten extension after extension, and this is the last chance I have of delivering it. I honestly think I’m in danger of losing my tutor. This isn’t wat she signed up. She’s not my mother, nor my therapist, nor my friend. She’s a successful academic who accepted to work with a high performance student, and what she got is a depressed, washed up , insecure cry baby who can’t manage to write down a chapter without a breakdown.

If I finish on Friday, I’ll be done with my self-created monster. Not DONE done, but I’ll be on the other side, on the much greener (or so I think) grass of corrections and editing. If only I could have it done by Friday I’d have one less stone to carry around. But as I was saying, I’ve been wasting my time for two hours and produced exactly 2 paragraphs, one of which I erased. And so, I come here to whine in the totally realistic hopes that ideas will magically flow into my mind and I’ll just have to write them down.

Today was a better day though, I don’t want to sound like I’m still swimming in the same misery pond I was on Sunday and Monday, let’s say I’m just dipping my feet in those waters. Panic has receded into anxiety, and after the f*cking Science Fair was over and done with at school (something I hated so much I didn’t even blog about), and I managed to gain a small victory against the infernal online system that runs the reviews I’m working for, I managed to ease up on the apprehensive state of shock I was in.

Anyhow, I guess this is me reporting I’m back from the land of despair where I’ve been approved a resident’s visa. Lovely trip, the sightseeing is amazing. Here’s a pic I had taken while I was there, fun times!

sadcat

A little present…

Remember the mushroom kittens? Well they’re all safe and sound in they’re respective homes. There were 5 of them and they went to 3 different houses. They did leave a gift behind though…my boy Sylvester is still battling the skin fungus. I’ve given him meds, ointments, lotions, nothing seems to work completely, his natural defenses are just too low. And what’s really the worst part is that he’s always looking at me in the most suspicious way, like I’m always about to do something to him, and he gets easily startled, that makes me sad because I can’t even tell for sure if we’re done with the treatment or if he’s going to need something else. He’s been looking down and his eyelids had been red and swollen so I took him to the vet where they told me I need to give him shots in his eyes (though nothing else seemed wrong luckily) and they said it was probably a reaction to something. Besides, medicating this cat is almost putting your life in danger! lol

Last month he also came down with a cold, so it’s really been one thing after the other and it just breaks my heart to see that he’s not at his best. I don’t know if my writing shows it but from all my 4 kitties, he really is my baby. Right now he’s next to me (as always I might add), but he looks sad:

bombon sad

 

 

I know some of you have struggled to with your pets’ health, it’s a damn tough thing to watch them struggle isn’t it?

 

 

 

I’m not dead

It’s been a week since my last post. I don’t think I had taken so long between posts in a while. I tried to write a continuation to my “Daddy Issues” post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. This past week was a particularly tough one, I had a lot of trouble finding meaning in my life and I couldn’t help feeling like a complete failure. When I sat down trying to write, it just felt like it was pointless because nobody would care, even if I had a lot of positive feedback from the above mentioned post and some people even asked for part two, I’m just too much of a coward to go ahead with it, so I guess I’m putting it off for a bit, just until I get my head around what I want to say and how I’m going to say it.

I’m starting to wonder if part of the reason I have trouble telling the deepest stuff about my father issues is because I’m afraid people will think I’m just a whining baby, maybe they’ll see me for what I am, a young adult who’s traumatized by events that aren’t even comparable with the horrors other people went through while growing up. Maybe I’m just waiting for someone to tell me, like my mother has for so long, to suck it up and get over it.

And hell, I haven’t even started about my mother, that’s gonna take a whole new level of nerve. I’ve been dancing about the idea of writing about my mother for a lot of time, and I know I’m gonna keep on doing just that for a long time before I dare to dip my feet in those waters.

Anyhow, I guess this is some kind of  hi-there-I’m-not-dead post, just to get back on track. I love this blog and I don’t want to get away from it for too long, and my writing prompt for today ends there really.

Oh wait! I have some juicy stuff! Ha, I’ve been so absorbed all week about not finding meaning in life, that I completely forgot to tell you that I finished another chapter of the Frankenthesis, and now I’m just half a chapter away from finishing it, yaaaay! I can’t believe I’m almost there, I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. When I’m done with it, I know it won’t be so hard to find meaning in stuff, and just enjoy life a little more.

In other news, we’ve got a new addition to the kitty family. Except…well… it’s not really a kitty, and it’s not an addition I agreed on, but since it wasn’t my decision to make (and I loove her cutie face), I’m just gonna see if me and my kitties can roll with it. Of course if kitties can’t adjust, I’m not gonna let this go by so smoothly, their well-being is my priority in this case. Without further adieu, meet… Lula!

Success! Well… sort of…

I’m happy to report that I’ve finished the chapter I was working on, I still have to review it, but I’ve done what I can with it and I’ve stopped being mad at my thesis. I’m gonna take the rest of the afternoon to do the proofreading and I’m gonna take a look at the last chapter missing, and if it all goes well tomorrow I’ll be working on it.

Today my horizon seems quite brighter than yesterday’s, I don’t know exactly what happened but when the sun went to bed, I completely freaked out, I mean, lost it. I Kept having SH thoughts that were kind of hard to restrain in some moments (though I managed to), and I just felt so terrible about myself for not finishing the chapter already. Then, when I wasn’t beating myself up I was busy being immersed in self-pity, I wanted to cry because things have been so hard on me, because I didn’t have anyone to comfort me, because I lost the first place in my class (yeah, that’s how much of a nerd and obsessive I am), I think I would’ve cried if Sylvester would’ve so much as left my side.

By the way, I haven’t talked much about him but you should know he’s my baby boy, the one that makes me look like a crazy cat lady (not saying I’m not), and the most spoiled one of my kitties too. So without further ado I present you, Mr. Sylvester Bombon:

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But as I was saying, it all got better in the morning, ran some errands in the morning and when I started working on Frankenthesis I was on fire! I just hope I can keep up this speed, it’s be about time!

Back to where I started

I almost made it, but as the day closes in on me, I’ve surrendered. I managed to keep at bay all the dark thoughts throughout this cold sunny Sunday, but it’s stronger than me. It doesn’t matter that I don’t wanna think this thoughts because I feel them, right in the middle of my chest. It’s this pain that announces angst and anxiety are back and having a picnic on me. I wish there was a way of rationally making it go away, but there isn’t, at least I haven’t been succesful in any of my attempts so far.

It wasn’t all bad though, before the my demons arrived I managed to get some work and reading done (something quite unusual in me for a Sunday), and I think I’m even gonna put some words on the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named after this short hi-there-post. I think today was a little better because vacations are getting closer and closer. They’re the ones I’ve needed the most since I don’t know when. And what’s best, I won’t have to deal with Xmas and family. This year I get to run away and enjoy with BF at the beach, yay!

As for the mushroom kitties, I’m happy to report they’ve all been successfully neutered in a non-invasive micro-surgery facilitated by the fact that they’re all boys. Three of them have been moved to another temporary home since no matter how much I care for them, the levels of cat-crazyness were peaking over here with no sign on the horizon of a permanent home. It’s sad how picky people can be when adopting pets. If they are looking to foster a cat, how can they possibly care about it being gray or black, boy or girl? So I’m now actively searching for homes for these fungus-free kitties, before Mrs. Gobby truly convinces herself  she’s the mother of the remaining naughty pair.

How could you say no to these little faces?

How could you say no to these little faces?

Mrs. Gobby upon hearing she's not the mother of the babies.

Mrs. Gobby upon hearing she’s not the mother of the babies.

Random thoughts

I haven’t been writing in the past few days because I’ve been feeling like I have nothing else to say, guess I’m still in my meh phase, trapped in robot-mode, and I’m so sick of it!

Work’s better, with a little help from my partner I have managed to stop being late and go back to having enough time in the morning to get me some coffee on the way to school, which makes it easier to do my job. I think I’m getting used to it (I just started at this school in mid-August), but it’s still hard having to deal with it AND with my thesis, which is not comming to good (or not at all I might say).

The kitties are fine, getting bigger and stronger, they’re going to their permanent home this week, and I’m gonna miss them so much. With the help of meds they did beat the skin fungus, the bad news is now my cats have it and need to be medicated as well. Now that the babies are going I’ll have more time to focus on helping my cats beat it as well.

In other news, I’m thinking about quitting therapy. I’m just not sure it’s helping me anymore. The crisis keep comming and it’s been months since I felt I made some real progress. Also, I certainly could use the money; half my paycheck is going to my mental health, be it therapy or meds, and as much as I try to stretch the other half I’m just not making ends meet. It’s a very hard and unfair decision to have to choose between your mental well-being and your personal finances health, but I’m getting pretty close to having to do just that.

It does worry me that maybe I won’t be able to cope with my issues, but how not to be depressed if I’m not having enough money for my expenses? Money problems are certainly not the cause of my depression and I’m sure that even if I didn’t have issues with it I would still be depressed, but the problem here is that I don’t want money to be just another aggravating factor.

I’m just thinking out loud and probably won’t make a decision like that in the remaining time this year has left, but I am worried and it’s something that’s on my mind.

Not me anymore

Today my long weekend ends. I really needed it, thank goodness for Mexican Revolution. However, I do have to go to work tomorrow. I do have to face a thesis seminar and I do have to face my tutor. It’s not a matter of wether or not I can take it, it’s is a matter of last chances. Tomorrow I have the obligation of not f*ucking up. As of this moment I feel sort of capable, I hope to continue feeling that tomorrow morning.

It’s just so hard getting out of bed in the morning. Once I manage to do that, it’s usually already a little bit late and I have to run, which makes me very anxious all day long. If I could only not feel sick, if I wasn’t sick, I know I’d have finished my thesis already, I know I’d enjoy my job, and I know I’d be on may way to graduate school. The worst part is having to lie about it, because no matter what people say, being severly depressed is frowned upon. And even though I don’t want to, even though I should know better, people’s view on my performance affect my own personal view of myself. I’ll  feel like an irresponsible whining baby because I can’t comply with what’s expected from me.

And when I stop being so hard on myself, still I can’t shake off the failure sensation. I can’t forget that I used to be the shining star of my undergraduate generation, the one everybody consulted before handing in papers, the pride of teachers, and a girl who had her act pretty much together ALL the time.

I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know where she went and I don’t know if she’s ever comming back. I sure do hope so because I miss her. I can only wonder how she managed to handle everything, not just her everyday stuff but also the garbage that keeps me a complete mess and forces me to be medicated and go to therapy three times a week.

There are flashes when I feel everything will get better, and periods of time when I do feel better, but even when that happens I can’t forget I’m not what I used to be, I don’t forget my utter failure in all of my goals, and I don’t forget there are still battles comming up ahead.

Damn, I’ve written a sad post again, and I’m not even feeling that sad. Come to think about it, maybe writing all this stuff helps me chanalize it instead of feeling it on my flesh. It has always been this way, except before I only wrote when pain was piercing me and now, sometimes I’m able to hit the keyboard at the first sign of a crisis, and I think it has helped me in reducing them. I wish this was all the therapy I needed, but until that’s the case (I do hope that’ll be the case someday), here’s a cat.

Angsty Sunday

I hate anxiety. Anxiety’s a bitch. Today I woke up thinking it was Monday and I was already late for work (this has become a permanent anxiety issue since I overslept). I couldn’t undertstand why I hadn’t done my stuff like preparing my lesson plan or taken a shower the previous night. When I started thinking about all the things I should’ve done but didn’t I started to wonder whether it was actually monday, though I wasn’t convinced until I checked my cell and carefully read what it said on the screen: Sunday, November 11th. I had to do it twice to be completely sure.

I wish my anxiety was at least reasonable, but what makes it such a hard thing to tackle is that it can oversize anything, and next thing I know I’m having chest pains without even kwnowing what’s causing them…or knowing what’s causing them is irrational.

I know for sure I won’t enjoy my Sunday like Socrates will, but at least I’ll try. Here’s him at hist max worrying level:

The kitten chronicles

We usually keep kittens with us until they are old enough to eat by themselves and have learned to use the litter box properly, which means they are boarders until they’re 6 or 8 weeks old, and then we find them a definitive home. However these litter came in with a little problem of skin fungus, and since they were too little to be medicated we hoped that with proper feeding they’d be able to fight it off.

Unfortunately this wasn’t the case, and since it’s growing and they’re already 6 weeks old we’re gonna have to start medicating them, and we can’t let them go until they have fully overcome this, mainly because the stress of moving to yet another place would probably affect their recovery. We’re gonna have to give them medicated baths as well as a cutaneous solution and hopefully that’ll be enough. Otherwise they’re gonna need ingested meds, which I’m really really crossing my fingers for them not to need it, they’re mere babies!

Here’s a picture of the whole litter (sorry for the low resolution pic), another one of three of them eating dry food all by themselves (!!), and one of the little one who’s got the worst share of fungus.

Cat Therapy

5 kitties just arrived! They couldn’t have come at a worst time, when my tutor is absolutely furious at me and I have a sh*tload of work to get done both on my thesis and at my job, but man are they beautiful!

I’ve raised quite some orphan litters, and now apparently my fame precedes me because from the last 5 or 6 litters, most of them have come from people who come and ask me to take them in…sometimes folks who don’t even make the title of acquaintances. And although I’m terribly busy and still somewhat depressed, I just don’t have it in me to say no to any kitty who needs love and nurturing, so I now have yet another thing to do.

Besides, I think taking care of them might end up being just what I need right now to get me out of my dark little self-absorption; truth is, raising kitties is one of the most rewarding things for me in the world, and it certainly is a small tragedy when I have to let them go, I don’t know how many more litters my heart can take…

I still haven’t taken a picture of them, but here’s one of my previous litter, my Napitos.Image

Avoidance mode: off

Gosh, some dark stuff I wrote about last time! The good thing is I can always fall back on the bigger picture to have some sense of calm and feel a little better… oh, wait… except for the ongoing drug-war, the devastating economic crisis, and why not? Mexico’s demoralizing political reality. And while it’s easy for me to get my system jammed in the pessimistic mode, I also find it relatively common to find reasons to have a good laugh about things, though apparently that ability decided to take a hike for the past few days and it’s just timidly starting to return.

For the past couple of months I’ve been avoiding the fact that my country’s reality pretty much sucks, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get any better any time soon. Well, apparently my avoidance is over,  just in time for my conscience to fully appreciate the pathetic show us mexicans will receive on December 1st, when the legally, though not legitimately, elected president takes office. Just in time to watch the government announce they have killed the second most important drug lord…only to have to add that they “lost” the body, and the list can go on. That’s why it’s pretty darn important for that acid humor to come back soon if I’m to bear stuff like the European Union winning the Nobel Peace Prize!

Just to show you what I mean, on the left there’s the avoidance face I’ve been carrying around for the last months, and on the right there’s the face I intend to put on from now on.

One does not simply “write” a thesis

You should know this post started out in Spanish. I simply didn’t feel like writing in English… or so I thought, and before my text resulted in a reasonable causality for a linguist’s heart attack I decided to go back to my adoptive language (still not sure of who adopted who).

I’m meeting my thesis director tomorrow afternoon. I’m considerably afraid of her. The worst part is that there’s no justifiable reason to do so. She’s not only an academic warrior and someone to look up to professionally, but also a very nice person, and whenever I come down with my regular this-thesis-is-a-joke mood, she’s the one to show me all the good things about it. In short, I’m scared of her and ashamed for being so. I’m meeting her tomorrow and as I sat a moment ago wondering what it was that made me so uncomfortable when she’s so nice even as she helps me work out every millimeter or my work, I thought that it really isn’t her whom I’m afraid of, but my thesis.

Grabbing it and working with it has become something similar to working with The Monster Book of Monsters (go google it…ready?…let’s continue). And when anyone tries to stick their nose into the matter, it’s usually on the tone of: it’s just a matter of sitting down and writing it, I just feel like paraphrasing poor tortured Tolkien’s Boromir and screaming: ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY “WRITE” A THESIS!, though what actually comes out is a low, pathetic little voice saying “yeah, you’re right”. Of course they’re not right! Are they? Well, maybe… The fact is the “writing” process is coming close to a whole year and even though I’m working in the fourth chapter, I feel like I’m moving as fast as Frodo and Sam inside Mordor (gosh..maybe I should re-name this blog: Almost Everything About The Lord of The Rings…) and yes, just as them, as I get closer and closer to achieving my goal, the task becomes harder and harder. So I guess what I urgently need is a way of dealing with my pathologic fear of my own thesis.

By the way, while wasting valuable time researching important issues on the web, I found this (though I guess my thesis won’t have tea and cookies with me anytime soon): Image

And finally, to honor the actual name of this blog, I should report that exactly a week ago Mrs. Gobby was lost and found. She fell dow the balcony of her first floor flat and spent a couple of hours hiding in some bushes, which has resulted in her becoming the most spoiled and neediest ensalver cat ever.

The Butterfly Effect

I’ve always been one to observe people. Most of the time they’re gestures, attitude, or sometimes even their tone speak louder to me than the words coming out of their mouths. I guess I’m more of a looker than a hearer, and it does get me in trouble every once in a while when someone catches me off guard and notices how I didn’t seem to pay attention to a word they just said; it’s just that I wasn’t paying attention to what they wanted me to, but to what they usually don’t want me to.

Now, when it comes to being watched, I’m probably no more comfortable than most people, but most people don’t really seem to notice or observe others so I’m not usually in that place. And then there are the tattoos: a butterfly sniffing a flower on my lower belly, and The Little Prince flying away from his planet on my upper back. I never imagined they would prompt such a wide range of reactions, or that people would tend to be so eager to share them with me.  Some probably won’t ever see them or notice them, but when they do, especially for the first time, chances are they’ll want to tell me all about it.

However, noticing their reaction does tell me more about them than the other way around. The one I like the most is the honest no-reaction face, where they’ll see them just like something completely ordinary, add them to their recollections of me, and then we can move on and forget about it; maybe they’ll even be mentioned in the future, though more as a natural part of people sharing themselves. The funniest one is the pretend-I-saw-nothing face, where the person in particular will have to gather all of her strength just to NOT look at them, it will bother me a little bit but mostly it will entertain me. Then there’s the Ahem-excuse-me-I-don’t-know-you-but-I-love-your-tattoo reaction, which doesn’t entirely piss me off though it’s still uncomfortable to have some complete stranger telling you how much they love a part of your body. The opposite reaction I’ve only had once, and it left me so shocked I didn’t even know how to respond; I was writing my name down on a list before a lecture, when this old folk taps on my shoulder and goes “Excuse me, but is that the Little Prince?”, “Why, yes. Yes it is sir”, “Oh, I thought so… I guess it’s nice, though why would you want something like that on your back?…Well, to each their own, right?”, to which I could only answer in a soft voice: “Indeed”. And I was almost forgetting about the one where simple acquaintances expect me to share my tats’ personal meanings like we’re talking about what we had for breakfast.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the least of my concerns when I get tattooed is people’s reaction to my chosen modification, though it’s something I have to deal with every once in a while. I also wonder if it’s something cultural, and what other people with a lot more tats and piercings may have to deal with here in Mexico, ’cause if this happens to a fresa girl who’s got just a few tats… Anyway, of course this is no reason for me to hide them, of course I like to have them seen and appreciated, and most times I’ll even share their story if asked, but don’t expect me to always be in the mood for it, because the way I decide to live within my body is not a free pass for everybody to give me their opinion about it every single time. (I swear it din’t sound so bitter in my head!)

By the way, this is the reaction I absolutely love the most. It comes from Mrs. Gobby and it is wordless, has a perfect balance between awe and approval, and if you can manage to put this face on for my tattoos, or even better, just for me, I’ll adore you! (though I have to say, if you’re reading this, you probably lack the mandatory whiskers needed for that).

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