Tag Archives: mary

See you later, stress (much later, hopefully)

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I finally got paid for the projects I was waiting to receive payment for on Wednesday. It felt amazing to deposit that check into my bank account. It also felt amazing to put gas in my car and buy myself a pack of cigarettes. Since I get my first full check from work this coming Friday, I also got myself a few treats: two books and a pound of Starbucks Caffe Verona. I was thinking about going to get tattoos #3 and #4 today, but Mike has work for 3:15 — what a random time — and will have the car. Also, while I know exactly what I want for one of them, I’m still researching and thinking about the other. I’d rather get them both at the same time.

One of the treats was going out for karaoke — on my own tab. The few times I have gone were only because a friend offered to buy my drinks. I am stubborn and hate feeling like a mooch. I had a great time last night with Mike, Sandy, Sean, Mary, and Greg at Hojo’s. I took Sandy out to dinner before we met everyone at the bar, too. It was nice to have some time alone, and it felt good to be able to treat her. (Although, she cornered me into letting her buy me a new pair of jeans. I have to admit, it feels nice to have a pair of jeans that isn’t too tight.)

On Friday I’ll be able to pay for three years of hosting. I cannot wait to move back into elizawhat.com. I’ll also be able to pay back Mike, and pay my mom for my January, February, and March car insurance. This weekend I’m going to send out my March payment now for my student loan, and pick up some gifts for a few birthdays I missed.

I’m so relieved now that I can stand on my own two feet again.

I’m also relieved because my aunt and I have gone back to the relationship we had before. We had dinner together on Wednesday, just like old times. It’s nice to just be aunt and niece again, with that best friend and mother-daughter kind of relationship, instead of us both highly stressed out and butting heads.

On March 10th I have an appointment with Dr. Greco (my rheumatologist). I have some notes for him but nothing really new. I’ve been trying to keep track of my GI system’s shit — no pun intended — to see if there’s a pattern, because I’m obsessive like that, and want some answers for all of my symptoms, dammit. I’ve also been keeping track of my pain and other symptoms.

Work is going well. I’m starting to learn some of their office politics — all businesses have them; I could tell you some stories from my freelance days — and although it’s been a little frustrating, I’m working through it. Mainly, it’s that I’ve come into a position that opened up because they were very, very unhappy with the last person, so they’re extremely cautious with me. While it’s not fair to me, it’s understandable. I know that I rock at my profession, though, so I only have to work at their pace and try my best to soothe their concerns.

I’m working on some stuff for Freaking Bookworm. I’d like to do a monthly book club, and each month do a live podcast that everyone can listen in on and call into to talk about the book. The site I’m probably going to use, TalkShoe, also has live chat during the show, for those who can’t or don’t want to call in. If you’re interested, let me know. I already have the first book in mind; I’m just trying to get together some sort of format. (You know, other than me babbling.) I’d like to have some specific discussion topics, you know?

I’m also looking into monetizing Freaking Bookworm in some way. I’ve tried Google ads and the Barnes and Noble affiliate program, but I know all too well that ads are just white noise to people. (I mean, shit, I ignore them, so why should anyone else pay attention to them?) I’m looking into the Amazon affiliate program, so that I can sell the books I’m reviewing in a little store and receive a commission on the ones I sell. I think it’d be hot shit to literally make money off of reading books so that I can buy more books. It’s the next best thing to making a living off of writing books. ♥

My only real complaint right now is that my allergies are kicking up again, but since that means spring is on the way, I can’t really complain. I’ll just live on Simply Saline and Claritin-D.

That’s really the gist of my life right now — which is a relief. There’s no stress, now that I’m on my feet again. My biggest problem at the moment is figuring out which movie Mike and I should see tonight, if he’s not too tired after work. I’m looking forward to having a date night, but we’re most definitely going out for breakfast tomorrow, so even if we don’t go out tonight, it’s all good. I’m hoping that in the morning we can start putting together a plan for getting our own place. I was thinking about all of the things we’re going to need this morning, and it’s kind of overwhelming. Like, can we really save enough to get the necessities, some extras, and afford the rent, all by the summer?

Still, now that I have a regular paycheck and am not so fucking stressed out, it all seems possible. It doesn’t seem like just a silly dream.

We can really have a life together.

So. That’s how I’m doing. How are you?

My head split open, I threw up… and then I found my Christmas spirit

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I found my Christmas spirit. I was laying in bed the other night, pretty much dying of a migraine, when I realized I have a lot of people who love me: my mom made me ice packs and stroked my hair while I cried like a two-year-old who has skinned her knee, Mike tucked me into bed before he went to work, my dad sacrificed the TV so that my brain would stop feeling like it was swelling, and my cat snuggled up with me as if to keep watch. With all of that love, who cares whether I’m broke! Sounds magical, right? There was also throwing up and screaming. Trust me, it was not up to Disney standards. It was only my fourth migraine, but I swear each one is worse than the last.

Definitely puts things in perspective.

Apparently I’ve also never mentioned them to my mom before, so she wants me to tell Pam (my PA for those of you who are new) next time I see her. It may or may not have anything to do with the Mystery Autoimmune Disease, but they could probably give me good drugs for the next one — and there will almost definitely be a “next one.” I spent from 4:30 Wednesday night to most of Thursday in bed; even though I woke up and only a small, threatening headache remained, I was completely exhausted and decided what I needed most was rest.

Then, last night, I risked having another massive headache by going out and getting completely sloshed with a bunch of friends for Sandy‘s birthday. (I am so grateful to her for buying my drinks. I’m definitely getting her an awesome birthday/Christmas present.) I was so drunk that, when I woke up this morning before the sun was even up, I was still drunk, and when I woken up again around eight, I was tipsy. I woke up again at noon and was fine, though, so I guess I’m pretty lucky. I’ve only been hungover once and I intend to keep it that way, but last night I guess I tried pretty hard to get one! I know my limit, though, and stopped after… five drinks and two shots: two orange juices with Peach Tree and vodka, two shots of raspberry chocolate wine, and three vodka collinses. Eep. Yeah, I’m pretty damn lucky!

Oh well. I figure, I’m twenty-two, and pretty much have to do this. I enjoy it and enjoy the company. Our group always has a blast.

So yeah, if you see a video of me singing “Wannabe” with a couple of hot chicks, don’t be surprised. I was way too drunk to say no when Jess suggested it!

Hella good

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Last night I took a little bit of money and went to our tiny bar with Sandy and her sister Mary (it’s Mary’s birthday weekend), and Fred, Jen, Taylor, Stacey, Eric, Kenny, Kenny’s boyfriend — I’m so sorry, I can’t remember your name! I think it was Allen — Eddie, and Ed.

We still call the bar Hojo’s, from back when the restaurant, bar, and motel were Howard Johnson’s, and Sandy and I have been going every so often lately because it’s right down the street from both of us (I don’t have my car Friday nights because Mike works, and she had a car for a while that just wouldn’t make it to the Groggy Frogg in Southington). I always thought the Hojo’s bar would be skeevy and full of nasty people, but it’s nice in there. There’s usually a fire going, there’s a futon loaded with big, comfy pillows, and there are usually plenty of tables. The crowd is an older crowd, with another group of people around our age, but everyone claps for everyone, and we all usually dance together. It’s a blast. Plus, the drinks? Are CHEAP. My vodka collinses come in a decent sized glass, are usually $5 — last night they were $4, so I’m wondering if my group got a special discount — and after a couple, he gives you an even bigger glass. He makes the drinks really well, too. (The girls at Groggy’s rock my vodka collinses, too, but there they are $7.)

I’ve also only gotten hit on once there, and the guy was from out of state (New York, supposedly).

That’s not to say that I don’t miss the shit out of the Groggy Frogg, because I totally do. Hojo’s is what works for us right now, although hopefully we can go to Groggy’s sometime soon.

At first, the night felt like it was going to be shitty for me. For some reason, I was having one of my mini-breakdowns while getting ready. Usually, during these little guys, something will be bothering me deep under the surface, and it comes out in the form of… changing clothes. I change my clothes over, and over, and over, and over, each time becoming more and more frustrated, closer and closer to tears. I’m thinking now that it was the combined stress of my current flareup and doctor fiasco, work, and in general just rushing to get ready because I’d waited all day to take a shower. I felt like a ticking time bomb, though, and I just wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I hate when this happens to me, because I can rarely control it. Last night, though, I somehow found a way to reign my emotions in, get myself in check, and loosen the fuck up so I could have some fun and enjoy my first night out in a while.

Friday nights are karaoke at Hojo’s, too, so I did “I’m With You” by Avril Lavigne, “Hella Good” by No Doubt, and “Bleed Like Me” by Garbage. By the time I got to “Hella Good,” I was feeling hella good — so good, in fact, that I actually danced in front of everyone while singing. I got compliments on every song, from strangers and our group, so I’m starting to believe that I actually can sing and it’s not just everyone being really drunk. I usually get compliments when I do karaoke, but part of me wondered whether it was just some drunken karaoke etiquette, kind of like when someone you don’t know insists that they sucked, you know that they sucked, but you say, “No, that was awesome!” because you’re drunk and everything is awesome. (Disclaimer [especially to Sandy, Tricia, and Mary]: When I tell you that you’re good, you are — to me, anyway.)

I really like doing No Doubt and Garbage, but there are only so many songs they have, so I really need to start venturing out. I usually do Evanescence, Lady Gaga, No Doubt, Garbage, Duffy, and lately I’ve been venturing into Pink (and now maybe Avril Lavigne). I was going to do “Don’t Let Me Get Me” by Pink last night but it didn’t happen. (I just feel lucky that I got four songs in!) I also like doing Alicia Keys and Michelle Branch from time to time. I guess I should pull out my sister’s old Aaliyah CDs and start delving into her, just to switch it up a little, you know?

Most of the night was good. We ate at the restaurant after though, because we were all starving. (I swallowed my food down within like five minutes. I definitely should have eaten before going out, but I didn’t make time because I am a sloth.)

Sorry, Sid.

Sorry, Sid.

Five of us went to eat. After we finished, we realized we all only had twenties, so when we got our check we went up front to have them split the bill for us. Our total meal couldn’t have cost more than $35-40 (especially since they add the gratuity in at night), but after splitting the bill for only three of us, the woman claimed that the balance was another $30, and refused to split the check further. Most of us missed this, though, and Eddie ended up picking up the rest of the tab. We all only figured out what had happened once we got outside. I owe Eddie a couple of drinks. It wasn’t fair at all. I wish one of us had debated it, but I guess Eddie just wanted her to stop complaining about splitting the bill.

Still, I feel really bad that Eddie picked up the rest, and I’m pissed about the waitress screwing us over. The Hojo’s restaurant has gone way downhill over the last ten years. I’m rarely happy after eating there. I try to avoid it like the plague, but every so often, I end up there with someone.

Oh well. It was a fun night aside from that. I can’t wait to do “Hella Good” for Mike.

Drunken blogging: The return of Astrid and Dante!

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I have so much I want to tell you, like how this weekend went (we had a big fire up at the lake in honor of Popi), how things with Mike and Project Cohabitation are going (good!), and how pissed I am about the way Muslim-Americans are being treated by (some of) their “fellow” Americans, but mostly right now I want to wiggle this in front of your face. Raise your hand if you remember it! I found it the other day while surfing the internet (and basically doing nothing), and last night sent a message to Mary to see if she still wanted to RP these two. A few people were excited about it and wanted more when I first started the Dante and Astrid blog, and it was really cool to actually have fans, so if you guys are still around, I just posted a new one, as well as some originals from like 2004 or something (not sure of the original date, since the actual AIM logs are on Noni’s old computer; they were posted to my old LJ in 2006).

Anyway.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, I used to do a lot of what is called play-by-post roleplaying (RPing for short), which is basically two or more people writing as if they were a character, and when it’s read all together, it’s like reading a short story (or, in Mary’s and my case, a book at this point). Well, one day while cruising some RP adverts on LiveJournal, I came across Mary’s. She was looking for someone to play one of her characters, and had left a link to a Geocities or something with all of the characters. We’ve been playing ever since… and I just realized that it’s been over five years. I’m pretty sure she is my oldest online friend (in the sense that we have been friends via the internet for the longest time out of all of my internet friends).

Anyway. It is possibly creepy that I am this excited about this, but rereading some of our old logs made me really appreciate how much this has made my writing improve, and they’re also pretty freaking good. Plus, you can’t call me creepy, because I am sleepy and slightly drunk, so that’s excuse enough for my potentially overenthusiasm.

ANYWAY. Go read these. I promise they are awesome. You don’t have to start with the Prologue ones, since I don’t have them all up anyway, but you should definitely start with In the Beginning.

ANYWAY. Before I creep Mary out and make her not want to write with me anymore, I’m going to publish this (and probably regret it in the morning afternoon).

GO READ IT!!

PS: My birthday is in less than a week and I’ve only just now decided what I’m doing. Ah, apathy and depression.

PSS: This might sound crazy, but I think I like Jim Bean better than Jack Daniels. Sacrilege! (Not that I’ve had any JD in years, but still.) (Wow, I sound like an alcoholic! Goodnight, now!)

PSSS: I owe a lot of you guys comment replies. And Twitter replies. And emails. Sigh.

How I started believing in miracles

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My friend Sandy’s sister Mary had three cats. Her husband Fred and two girls recently moved into a house for rent. While moving one of their couches, they inadvertently squished their male cat, Boots, who was inside of the couch. He had several broken bones and fractures, and they didn’t think he was going to make it.

Mary and Fred brought Boots to the vet, who said that it didn’t look like he would make it, but that she could try to save him for a few thousand dollars. Mary and Fred decided to have Boots put down. Devastated, they went home to tell their two daughters that Boots had passed away.

“Boots passed away,” T, their oldest daughter, told me when I walked in the door a couple of weeks ago. A, her little sister, nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said to them. Sandy had already told me what had happened, but I knew it was important for the girls to tell me, and for me to listen.

Sandy and I went out that night, and even though I thought of the black and white cat from time to time, I slowly began to forget about the incident.

A few days later, Sandy texted me with a photo. The message read something like, “Boots is alive!”

I called her immediately. “What? How?”

Freddy went to pick up Boots’ cat carrier, urn, and paw print that they were supposed to get from the vet. The receptionist told him that the vet needed to see him. Fred couldn’t figure out why the vet would want to see him.

“I couldn’t do it,” the vet had said, walking into the waiting area with a very much alive Boots in her arms. “I went in to give him the dosage and he was walking around, broken bones and all! I pet him to relax him before I gave it to him, and he started purring.” She had mended Boots as best as she could, and sent him home with Fred with an antibiotic.

A couple of weeks later, Boots and their other cat Marley became proud parents of three kittens.

I didn’t believe in miracles before this. A cat who had seemed on the brink of death is now mostly healed up. It wouldn’t have been possible without the charity of the vet, but I think Boots has a strong little soul, otherwise he wouldn’t have hung on that long.

I look at Popi, and I think that there are many years ahead of him. He was diagnosed with stage four liver, lung, hip, and spine cancer in November 2009. The doctors estimated that it had taken only two months to manifest and spread, which means he got sick in September 2009.

Today is May 17th, 2010. Other than fatigue, changed taste buds, a few other symptoms from the radiation and chemotherapy, and the vicious pain he’s been living with for months now, he’s still here. He’s still cracking jokes, watching his favorite TV shows, and cheering on his UConn Huskies. He’s always been stubborn as hell, and I knew from the beginning he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

It’s been nine months since stage four cancer manifested itself in his body. I see at least another five years ahead of him.