I am married to a passive aggressive cat

The post title requires a little explanation, but you won't get any of that until later. Because I believe in narrative suspense and shit.

It's the little things that drive people to horrific acts of murder.

For instance, waking up and finding a bowl full of partially eaten home-made curry in the sink.

It was sitting there in my kitchen sink, all the sweet potatoes and spinach pushed to the side on a lovely bed of brown rice like a mute accusation: you tried to make me eat vegetables. 

Clearly, I am going to have to have the, "Dude, vegetables won't make you grow a vagina" conversation. Again.

I am also going to have to be very drunk. Mostly because tequila makes me hit like a girl, and I don't want to end up accidentally busting his pretty face for leaving the curry that I made FROM SCRATCH in my whoring KITCHEN SINK. Seriously, there is a trash bin literally ten feet away. If you're going to spurn my cooking, at least have the decency to hide it under a McDonald's bag like the rest of the civilized world.

And this is why I believe I am married to a passive aggressive cat--because leaving a half eaten curry where you can find it is totally a cat move. It screams, "Fuck you, I hate this. Now clean it up." It also illustrates why I am now opposed to marriage. Because unless you look something like this....

I don't want to deal with that shit. You are just not cute enough. Also, I need to take new pictures of my cat. He's like twice as big as when this was taken. If I write again soon, you'll know I didn't kill my husband. Best get ready for work.

And now for something entirely different.

I'm sitting in the bedroom I share with my husband, my cat and a pit bull. There's a glass of box wine sitting next to me, the air smells like dog farts, and I am trying to figure out if drinking wine in bed with no pants on while writing a blog is an alcoholic thing to do or just a fucking brilliant example of multitasking.* Also I am trying to figure out what to say.

Over half a year has passed since last I wrote in this blog beloved and read by millions. It's surprising how time flies when you're alternating between states of near transcendent irritation and anxiety with a good heaping of a work schedule that could fell an ox and a pay scale that, until recently, made McDonald's employees shake their heads in pity and wonderment.

A lot has happened in the past seven months. Most of it fits into that whole crippling anxiety/irritation category of human experience. For instance, I was working for a while there as a substitute security guard at a high school, and if that isn't a bucket of fucking chuckles I don't know what is. Also, I spent a few months dropping by the animal shelter in tears to not visit my goddamn cat because apparently that whole being visited in cat jail thing just confuses them. I don't know why I was so upset about an animal that I am fairly sure would have eaten my face in my sleep were the rapture ever to come, but there you have it.

Some of what life dealt me, however, was good. My cat was rehomed, likely because the shelter people were sick of dealing a deranged woman crying in the hall outside of Witzie's room. I got a new job that doesn't make me want to reenact Leaving LasVegas. And I joined a roller derby team. Because nothing works for crippling anxiety quite like careening around on a goose shit slick track at breakneck speeds.

I love it.

So that's all the writing I have in me right now. You can go away. Unless you were reading this blog for the clown porn. In which case, sorry. I just put that in the labels to screw with people googling clown porn. It seemed funny at the moment. I don't actually have anything on clown porn here.**

*Answer: It's a fucking brilliant example of multitasking, of course.

**Please don't send any. I was raised Catholic, y'all. Not that I believe in that shit. But guilt is just like radioactive waste. I'll be dead ten thousand years and still feeling guilty about something I said when I was fourteen.

Episode 2: Peter Carey and the Chemistry of Tears

Happy New Year: My First Vlog

Making Changes, Celebrating Accomplishments

Well, the whole "document my Nano Journey" thing went down in flames, although the important bit, the novel, did not. That is a good thing, to channel Martha Stewart. I managed to finish a major goal without giving in to several illnesses, a truly frustrating job search, the pressures of holidays with family, and a hefty teaching load with a bunch of students who truly want a boot up the bum. Hurrah to me, and if the smaller goal of documentation fell to the wayside, then so what?

I learned a lot both about writing and about myself this November. I learned that I thrive with a clear creative project underway. I learned that the real complexities of research only present themselves during the act of writing. I learn that being honest on the page isn't as easy as it sounds. I learned that I have dwindling patience for sad-sack excuses from young folk who spend their entire day socializing and pissing around in the commons instead of reading and working. Now what to do with all that knowledge....

1) The Novel Itself: I'm letting it lie fallow for about a month, just for mental health purposes. After that, I'm going to tuck into some of the research problems, plotting messes, and messy honesty stuff that made the end half so painful.

2) I am going to keep writing daily: This month the goal is 500 words a day, and save for yesterday's day off for knitting Christmas presents, I've kept to it moderately well.

3)Work: I'm starting to look outside teaching for career options. Objectively, I know I am fairly talented as an instructor, but right now the work balance seems to be falling towards life taking. I need some kind of work that a) pays the damn bills, and b) doesn't leave me depressed at the end of each day.


On several unrelated notes, I am working on transitioning to a Vegan lifestyle. Mainly this is for ethical reasons; even casual research into factory farming reveals a level of barbarity impossible to accept. The transition is going fairly well. I have managed a week without slipping, and I find the food is enjoyable and my overall energy level is just a lot better. Of course, not working myself half to death on a daily basis likely has something to do with that as well.

Also, last night I made my first t-shirt necklace. Rather early this morning.  (There is a snorer in the house. Best not to talk about it) The results were satisfactory; though the shirt I chose was old and brittle in the seams and could not be stretched quite as vigorously as one would prefer. The concept of recycling old clothing to make new things really appeals to me. Why should so much stuff end up in a landfill just because its original purpose has been fulfilled? It's just wasteful. I am thinking of keeping these projects up. Maybe selling them. Anyway, here is a picture of my first shot at a t-shirt necklace:

Day 16: Burning Up My Safety Cushion

Today is a logistical nightmare. In addition to my writing, I DM for a bunch of crazy cool friends of mine. Anyway. This Friday we are kidnapping a friend who is moving out of town and introducing her to the wonders of Dungeons and Dragons. This meant that I could only do the bare minimum of writing. So much for being ahead of the curve....

Day 15: Eye of the Tiger

Yesterday was nearly a complete loss with tutoring students, grading, choir, and attending a gallery opening for one of the hubbie's employees and a former co-worker of mine. I managed to get about eight hundred words done, but not much else. Today was better despite my still hefty grading load and low energy level. I managed to cross the mid-point of the novel and add a bit of padding. Huzzah. The plot bunnies are still creeping in from time to time, but I am satisfying them with the promise of attention after November. All right. Ciao for now.