Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. - Nietzsche
I battle with monsters all. the. fucking. time.
Guess that explains a lot.
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So. That void kitty up there is Finn. He was supposed to be named Phineas after one of the characters in A Separate Peace by John Knowles. It’s one of my favourite books and one I don’t revisit nearly enough.
But. Somewhere along the line, he became a Finnegan.
I’m his person and I can’t tell you how healing that little asshole is. He’s amazing.
We also adopted another kitten, Sophie.
She’s not a void kitty. She’s actually white with some gray tabby colouring.
So. Night and day. Literally.
Even in their personalities… where he’s a total and complete extroverted asshole, she’s a shy lovebug.
I’m not sure why she’s so skittish still, but it is what it is. But like Apache, when she wants loving from you, she will NOT be denied.
I am also her person… when she lets me be.
They have made me indescribably happy. Maybe not enough to keep the worst of the depression away, but it’s something.
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Let’s see… what’s happened since Memorial Day-ish? Besides bringing home a little ray of sunshine and an asshole?
My email account either got spoofed or hacked… I’m not quite sure. All I know for sure is that I was getting like 100 bounce backs a day. Apparently, I have control of your computer and if you don’t pay me in a bazillion bitcoins, I’ll share that naughty stuff on your hard drive with the world.
To be completely honest, I have no idea what a bitcoin actually is and I can’t be bothered to find out why I would want some.
I went to my webhost and, instead of taking any action, they told me it was MY fault and then directed me to a bunch of knowledge base articles. Not a single bit of customer service to be found… I decided to take my business elsewhere.
Not a spur of the moment decision even though it looks like it. I’ve been having problems with them on and off for years, but I was too lazy to do anything about it.
So.
Last year, I hosted a test blog on HostGator, using WordPress. (insert vomiting emoji here…) I liked HG, hated WP, but decided to cancel the hosting after the one year term was up.
I decided to go back to HostGator and transfer my entire digital life to them. This blog and 7 domains.
Well, the domain transfers went relatively well until they didn’t.
Apparently, I hit some limit with the domain transfers, triggered some fraud alert, and they locked me out of my entire account.
Even better, the email that told me why wound up in spam. If I hadn’t been exporting important email messages, I would have never known.
I went through this whole thing with them:
How am I supposed to prove the domains are mine? No, I’m not sending you copies of my bank statements or my drivers license via an unsecured email… and we were at a stalemate. Finally, I sent them screen grabs of the bank’s app.
Still couldn’t get in.
Talked to support and showed them what I had sent. They told me they needed a PDF. Of a bunch of pictures. But whatever.
I showed it to the person I was chatting with and they told me it was OK so I sent it off.
Still locked out.
Chatted Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… all of them telling me that my information was still being reviewed and they would “escalate it”.
We’re at two weeks now. TWO WEEKS.
Finally, the person I talked to on Thursday told me the ticket had been closed. ON SATURDAY. The day I was told what I was submitting was OK.
I gave up and sent them a copy of my bank statement. Completely redacted except for three lines. (So really, what was the point? I could have faked the document by that point.)
And I finally got access to my shit again.
Just so I could transfer it to yet another web host.
After being with NameCheap for a billion years, I moved GA twice in the space of a few weeks. And the two email accounts I was keeping.
I do not recommend doing that.
So… I’m off of work today taking a much needed mental health day and decided to post this entry.
The website, this blog, my fucking baby, broke.
Borked beyond belief.
The guy at A2 was super helpful and told me I was his favourite support call because I was having a good time.
What else could I do? If I don’t laugh about this nightmare at this point, I’m just going to cry.
And honestly? I’ve been doing a lot of that lately and I am OVER IT.
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Hmm… what else happened?
VEGAS WON THE STANLEY CUP! (doo dah doo dah) VIN AND DOUG CAN KISS MY BUTT! (oh the doo dah day)
This is especially heartwarming because the Cats made it into the finals for the first time in franchise history.
They also lost a really good player in the Vegas expansion draft because they wanted to trade away a shitty one… and I’m pretty sure at least one of those names will be engraved on Lord Stanley’s Cup.
As I told several people, the Cats shit all over my dreams. I really hoped Vegas would shit all over theirs.
I think at this point, I have earned the right to be that vindictive because I have been dealing with the emotional upheaval that team caused me for years now.
I’ve actually debated posting part of my termination notice and I’m still on the fence about that. (WHAT? THERE’S SOMETHING I WON’T TALK ABOUT?!?! Dude, I talk about dicks, I’ve written about my struggles keeping two of my fan fic characters from engaging in statutory rape, I’ve written - ad nauseum - about my mental health. Yeah. Not a lot of boundaries here…)
But anyway, the part that (still) kills me - the part I absolutely CANNOT get over - is where they said that there was a possibility that I would never get better and they couldn’t keep my position open for an undetermined length of time.
I’m fucking bipolar.
I was diagnosed when I was 26 - right after my father died.
I’ve been under a doctor’s care in one way, shape, or form due to that since then. So, I was what? 43 when they shitcanned me.
43 multiplied by the square root of cheese, divided by pi equals… hold on. I need to write a ridiculous excel formula to do that math.
Where was I?
Oh yeah… I’VE KNOWN ABOUT THE BIPOLAR AND HAVE BEEN UNDER TREATMENT FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS.
Seventeen.
Seventeen years of therapy on and off.
Seventeen years of altering my internal chemistry to adjust for the fact that my body cannot produce what it needs for me to be a fully functioning human.
Seventeen years of pretending to be a fully functioning human and (mostly) succeeding.
But. You know. I might never get better.
Like I have any control over my broken brain.
I’m about as good as I’m ever going to get… and that’s the part that I can’t shake.
A very unusual story and very amusing - I had to read it twice!
A Man and His Moose A True Story by Wendell Gee, Fourth Grader
Softly and silently, he crept into the car and drove to Westown Pharmacy. Little did he know I was in the car watching as he bought a mini Hallmark reindeer.
When he got home, he carefully took off the tags and called this poor reindeer “Herbie the Moose” (Maybe because this man works for the company with a moose!)
This is what this man and his moose did: they went in the car together and they walked around the house together, When they went in the car, Herbie was on the steering wheel or the dash. When they walked around the house, Herbie was on this man’s head.
When I bug him, he sends Herbie, his “attack moose” after me! Remember when Burger King was having their Herb ads? This man would make his Herb say, “Daddy! Daddy! They want me! They want me! Daddy, please bring me to Burger King so we can be $5,000 richer!” and this man would say “why would I only be $5,000 richer? I thought it was $10,000,” and Herbie would say, “I want half!”
When Herbie makes me mad, I send him flying! But, when that doesn’t work, I put him in some of these: freezer, sock/underwear drawer, the cellar, behind the couch, or in my puppy’s mouth.
When this man uses Herbie, I think he is getting senile early. Sometimes, he puts Herbie in front of a petrified cow turd and says Herbie is taking a poop!
This man I ought to know because he is my Dad.
footnotes:
The “company with a moose” logo. NOT a moose, btw…
Herb commercial
The best picture they have of him is one where he’s literally holding a bowling ball in front of his face… This was considered one of the biggest flops in marketing history, as the year-long campaign never caught on and nearly sunk Burger King altogether.
I am absolutely DYING at the video description. Also, upon reflection, I think the bowling ball thing is the inspiration for the #geeselfie tag I’m fond of using on the Book of Faces. (Don’t tell me advertising doesn’t work!)
The original
Dude, what the fuck was up with that handwriting?!?!?!
Also - that fucking cow turd.
He bought it somewhere as a random souvenir during a trip to Texas. That thing… wow. I haven’t seen it or thought of it in DECADES, but.
I can picture it perfectly.
Shall we say hashtag scarred for life? Because. Yeah. Abso-fucking-lutely.
The prednisone didn’t help at all. In fact, it looked like it made things worse.
The last straw, as it were, the sign we’d been begging him for, was the morning of the vet appointment. He was drinking water and assumed the poop position WHILE he was drinking. He realised what was happening and ran for the door, only to slip on the ceramic tile. He basically pooped where he landed and that was that. The look on his face said it all…
While there are definitely regrets - we didn’t catch it early enough, we didn’t do enough - I feel better knowing he’s not going to suffer any more. Supposedly, it wasn’t hurting him, but you could see his frustration.
It must be terrible to know your body is failing you and there’s nothing you can do about it.
So, we said goodbye to Guinness, our Guinney Pig, our moose, our beer, our asshole… our baby.
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We saw Океан Ельзи the Thursday after. While it was a good show, it wasn’t as good as the one we saw in NYC. I’m chalking part of that up to the fact that we sat in seats instead of hanging out in GA on the floor and part of it to mourning.
That leaves us with one band left, but we won’t see them until October. (OCTOBER!!!!!)
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I’d been moving on the treadmill every day since Feb 1st, and I broke my streak on Thursday.
In my defence, I had a pretty bad migraine, but it still sucks. I started over yesterday even though it sucked. It was my worst workout yet, and that’s saying a lot.
It was a perfect storm of dog’s death, dad’s 22nd anniversary, and what would have been my mother’s 77th birthday.
Not to mention work stress from the IT project from hell.
We’re “upgrading” our project management software with a group of programmers in India.
And it is not going well.
They can’t do a simple upgrade since we’re going from Windows 7 / CRM 2011 to Windows 10 / Dynamics 365.
They also can’t build a report or take simple instruction.
It has been the most frustrating thing about my job to date, and that’s saying something… I mean, the woman I replaced made my life a living hell for the three months she hung around to train me. God, she was a nasty piece of work.
Next weekend, we’re decompressing with a trip to Disney. Well, I’m hoping it will be more relaxing than heading to the parks on a runDisney race weekend… but we’ll see.
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I am really hating being left alone while the hubby plays hockey three nights a week. The house feels different without a pet in it.
And I’m not counting my squirrel buddy, although they kept me company ALL FUCKING NIGHT last night.
The damn thing managed to bust through one of the soffit vents in a place that is practically impossible for a human to access. And, that is, for once, not a complete and utter exaggeration. Neither is the fact that they kept me company in the bathroom, in my office, and in the living room. You can hear them in the ceiling when they get really active. I suppose we should be happy it’s not a fucking lizard. I’m use to squirrels and mice in the house.
Mind you, I like to watch a lot of horror movies when I’m fucking around on the computer, so the first few times I heard them, I freaked the fuck out. There’s a bunch of horror movies about previous owners who refuse to leave their houses and stalk the new residents, and we get a lot of mail for the previous residents even though we’ve been here for like 5 years. So… not a huge stretch for my overactive imagination.
Anyhoo, a dog is off the menu. I was thinking about getting a rabbit, but that was shot down. I’ve decided that we’ll get a cat. Maybe two… but not until Memorial Day weekend.
It’s been a long month already, and we’re only seven days into May.
Marathon Weekend registration was this past Tuesday and apparently sold out in record time.
I was sitting in the neurologist’s office with my husband asking about options… but I’d already decided against trying Dopey again.
Right now, I don’t have the interest in running a marathon. 6 hours of running isn’t really what I want to do right now, and I doubt I’ll ever get fast enough to cut that time down.
So, I passed.
I did register for Wine & Dine, though. I think if I start training in earnest now, and maybe follow some of the Dopey / Wine & Dine rD training plans, I’ll be fine with the half marathon.
I need to redeem myself for the crappy runs I’ve had lately…
I have been pretty good about putting in some miles every day, though. They may not be quality miles, but they are miles.
I even started doing a lot of iFit workouts that are hilly or walking intervals, so I’m getting some variety in.
I’m doing the Space Coast South Half Marathon this Thanksgiving, and that should be fun. The South course has no time limit and I’m going for the experience - mostly because some of my favourite Dopeys are going.
I’m at peace with my decision, but I’m having massive FOMO this weekend (Springtime Surprise) because I love the medals and theming, but by the time I decided I wanted to do it, it was sold out.
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In other news, I’m writing my first original piece of fiction in a long time. (AND it’s het!!!! Yeah. I don’t know where that came from either.) It’s a wee bit autobiographical, but I got inspired by reading these absolutely terrible books about women who work for sports teams.
I’m four chapters in, and it’s getting there. It’s a totally shitty first draft. I mean, really shitty first draft, but it’s a nice break from throuples and soulmates and statutory rape. (Wow. I write the full spectrum, don’t I?)
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As if I don’t have enough hobbies I’m ignoring, I’ve decided to learn how to crochet.
So… that’s knitting, counted cross stitch, scrapbooking, sewing, photography, web design, and a few others that I have all this stuff for, but will probably do nothing with.
I should really do a photo dump here… I made a friend at the Ft Lauderdale half and the concerts have been amazing, but I don’t have the energy.
I know I should be scheduling Ukrainian lessons, but I don’t have the energy.
I know I should be doing… anything but I don’t have the energy.
I’m very obviously depressed, but having to watch a beloved family member deteriorate in front of your eyes will do that to you.
It turns out he tested negative for DM (but may be one of the 2% affected by it and doesn’t have the carrier gene for it), but it could be a spinal tumour or a herniated disk. It’s $5,000 for a doggy MRI… and then, he’d probably need surgery to fix either issue. He’s 12. I’m not putting him through all that… and as much as I love and will do anything for him, let’s be honest. It’s stupid to spend that much on him. It’s not going to increase his quality of life and I don’t want him to spend whatever time he has left dealing with the repercussions of those decisions.
We’ve got him on prednisone, but it’s a temporary fix.
We’ve bought some time, but I don’t know how much.
pro tip: wash the car windows before going to a drive-thru safari
So.
I don’t know how to say it, so I’m just going to drop it here:
Guinness has been diagnosed with Degenerative Myelopathy.
When he was diagnosed with arthritis in his hips, it was expected. He’s a 12 year old, German Shepherd. Bad hips are a fact of life.
What was not expected was going to see a canine neurologist and having to listen to her tell me that we should really think about putting him to sleep.
