tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)

You know, the time before last (which was three days ago out of desperation from migraine pain), when I seriously tried to commit suicide, within a week of getting to the house, I was offered a stay in England and in Australia.  When I was in serious danger of losing the place Smidgen and I live, I was offered a place to live, at least for Smidgen, which is my first priorty.

All this started in 2014.

I have gone nowhere and still have no home for Smidgen.

This is why I have trust issues with people.  They will say anything if it makes them think they will with either help and things will get better or I will choose to live.

The hopelessness of my chronic pain only seems to get worse with every passing day.  I live in isolation in this room in a house with people who hate me.

When I bought this harness for Toby, I thought I'd still be able to walk this canyon hill.  In my condition, that's just not happening.  I can't even walk up to the bus stop stop without almost passing out.  I had one dude treat me like like I was some kind of crazy person, because my blood sugar went so low.  Depending on the sentiment, it was either a curse or a blessing I was gotten back in time to get some sugar.


The harness is easily prepared for idiots like me who never learned how to tie a knot.  It'll be fast and no one will notice.  I'll be taking Smidgen with me, since no one wants her.

When will this happen?  I don't know.  Probably on the spur of the moment, when I have enough money to get to the park.  Sometime in July, probably.  All I know is that I'm sick of the exasperation I receive when I have to go anywhere, even the doctor. I'm tired of being treated like a criminal because of the illnesses I have. I'm tired of being tired and not being able to sleep. And I'm tired of being placated to just to keep me alive, when no one really wants me alive. It's a reflex. What's the point in living when there is no one and nothing to live for?  I'd rather just have honesty and be told that, yes, I am a throaway who was only ever loved by Aunt Tudi.

She's dead now.  What's the point of anything? I am constantly in pain, these migraines are getting more frequent, no hospital or doctor but Sharp will give me any relief, there's no point in continuing like this.

tinhuvielartanis: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.

This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul

11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.

21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter

31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.

41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.

51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.

61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?

71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

tinhuvielartanis: (Here is the news!)
Dancing-Groot.gifVery early this morning, I checked my GoFundMe page and, upon seeing the current amount in my account, I turned into Groot.

In a measley six days, my GoFundMe campaign of shameless begging for help so I can get through  my upcoming surgery and post-op expenses, a merry band of do-gooders surpassed my goal of $500.  Even though it doesn't appear to be so, I have just over $525 for the upcoming health and shelter gauntlet.  A couple of folks opted to use PayPal instead of the GoFundMe site; thus, the difference.

As I said when I originally posted my campaign, $500 will prevent my going into any more deficit and will help set Toby and Smidgen up with their proper medications and food for the duration of my absence.  It will also pay my portion of the surgery bill, which is $264, gas for Angie's car and any other expenses accrued by my presence in her home.  It's still gonna be an uber-tight squeeze, so I'm keeping the campaign up until Monday morning, right before I head out to the surgery center.


To all of you who contributed to this cause, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I get distressed when I have to ask for help, especially financially.  It stems from my childhood almost instantly after the parental units divorced.

Essentially homeless with nothing but the clothes on my back, I found myself, along with Aunt Tudi and Granny, at the mercy of others who openly resented the situation in which we all found ourselves.  Because of that, self-suffiency was of the utmost importance to me.  Having my health pack its bags and leave town irreparably damaged that self-suffiency.


But you guys didn't grouse at me or make me feel like Heel #1 for asking for help.  You just helped, and that's a gift whose importance I can't properly express.  All I can do is say thank you, and file this experience in my Why Tribe Is More Cherished Than Family.

So, with all that said, please enjoy the dancing Moss and Roy, as well as the inimitable James Stewart and Donna Reed dancing as though the cops are shooting at their feet.  This is a perfect example of how y'all have made me feel the past few days.

Again, thank you.  Someday, and I'd rather it be sooner than later, I hope I can help all of you in some capacity.  It would be the very least I could do.

tinhuvielartanis: (Hot Damn!)

Making a List and Checking It Twice

Then I check it again.  And again.  And again and again and again.  No, I am not the Ginosaji, but I think I may have discovered why my memory has become a cess pool of forgetfulness over the past few years.

Earlier today, I went to the Imaging Healthcare site to confirm my EEG w/Sleep Deprivation test for Tuesday morning.  My neurologist wanted me to have the test before my surgery date.  While I was on my portal at Imaging Healthcare, I found the test results for my many procedures, dating as far back as October, 2013.  I clicked the report generated from my MRI of last year.  According to the physician who examined the imagery, there is nothing that would indicate why I have seizures and migraines; however, he made note that I have "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  What exactly is that?

It means that a portion of my brain cells have dropped dead.  It seems to be relatively common in people who suffer from migraines, which I have all my life, except for that nice extended break in my late 20s.  The primary symptom of this condition is forgetfulness, because it is a form of dementia.  To experts' knowledge, the condition does not cause seizures, but it can cause you to stand at the fridge with the door open, wondering why they hell you'd come into the kitchen in the first place.  The thing is, though, is that cortical atrophy is mainly associated with elderly people.  


It's a natural part of growing old; however, it can also indicate dementia and the beginnings of Alzheimers Disease.  I just approached an online doctor about it.  Hopefully, my questions will be answered, despite my not subscribing to the 'Ask a Doctor' website.  If I had the money, I might, but people who are running GoFundMe campaigns because their medical situation is guaranteeing they won't make ends meet in any conceivable way tend not to shove their debit card in a virtual doctor's face and shriek TAKE MY MONEY!, especially when said persons are going back to their neurologist for the EEG results sooner rather than later.  It would be frivolous and unresponsible to pay to have my question answered, when I can barely pay attention for being so broke.  Then again, maybe I can't pay attention because my brain is dying in increments.  Whatever.  At any rate, here's what I wrote to the "Emergency Medical Hologram" (Geek points to those who get that):

Since 2008, I've been having grand mal seizures.  I was 41 at the time.  They're well under control with the dosage of Keppra I'm on, and my neurologist keeps a close eye on me, doing annual tests and having me keep a diary of my migraine headaches.  I'm due to go for another EEG with sleep deprivation next week.  As I was setting up my appointment for a bone density scan ordered by my OB/GYN, I noticed that I could access the results of my previous tests, one of which was the MRI my neurologist ordered last year.  Everything appeared normal except that I exhibited "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  Is this normal for a 47-year-old?  From what I have read, it's an age-related issue that could be nothing, especially if you are a senior citizen, although it could mean you might have the beginnings of Alzheimers.  For the past four years, I have struggled with memory issues.  It often takes me three times longer to do things because I keep forgetting what it is I need to do next to complete whatever project I'm working on.  My longterm memory seems relatively okay, but I'm constantly having to retrace my steps to make certain I'm doing or have done what I need to at any given moment.  Should I be especially concerned about this, or am I just well on my way to joining AARP?

For now, I'm going to try to not let that report worry me, since I need to focus what rudimentary mental ability I still have to the task of preparing for this surgery and the subsequent week or so of recovery.  This next week is going to be busy, what with my pre-op visit and EEG, both of which are on Tuesday, then a surgery consult with my pain doctor, since she's the one who has to oversee the pain management after the procedure.  Those are the only two days I need to leave the house, which is great, because I need to begin sorting what clothing I need to take to Angie and Cierra's, gather up any connectivity cords and my extra surge protector, and prepare my room for Matt and the Mother Unit.  While I'm gone, they're going to clean up Syd & Nancy's cage and paint, among other things.  I also need to write out instructions on what Smidgen and Toby need and are used to getting, as well as draw a diagram of puppy pad placement.  Since Toby has been on Prednisone, he's become a peeing machine.  Most of the time, I get him out in time enough, but there will always be incidents, so I keep the carpet covered with the protection, but there's a certain way it needs to be done to reduce the amount of pads used while still being a flawless barrier between the carpet and Toby's cho-cha.  Thanks to the help I have so far received, I've been able to get another box of puppy pads, to ensure the Mother Unit does not run out of them.

After I have the instructions written out to my satisfaction, I need to write out some semblance of a will.  I want to make certain that I am not intubated or put on life support of any kind, should something go wrong during the surgery.  Also, I'm keen on bequeathing certain things to certain people.  Nothing I have is of any monetary worth, but there are some things that mean more than mere money.  I also want to have some sort of arrangements made for Toby and Smidgen, should I die, and I'm going to request that my ashes be taken to Craggy Dome on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville.  I doubt my wishes will be adhered to, but I have to state it, just in case.  Getting my document witnessed and notarised has already been made possible, thanks to your generosity.

Later on in the week, I plan on zipping up to Oceanside to spend the day with Angie and Cierra.  San Diego transit isn't just for the city proper, but for the entire county, so I can take various buses and trolleys to make it up there to them.  I'm looking forward to the journey and to seeing those crazy Oceanside chicks.  What I'm planning is to go up and go shopping for some of the heavier items, that Angie and Cierra can store for when I arrive from the hospital.  It will cut down on having to haul the stuff from the store to the house, then from the house to the car, then from the car to the apartment, and so on.  Right now, I can carry bottled water and large bottles of juice, both of which I'll need post-op.  After the surgery, lifting things like that won't be an option.  Wiser to get anything I can do beforehand done, so things will be easier post-op, right?  Again, thanks to your kindness, I'll be able to buy these supplies this next week, and have one less worry clinging like a funky monkey on my back.


So that's where we are for now.  I want you all to know how humbled and amazed I am by your outpouring of fundages I know you can ill afford.  Despite my misanthropy, I am always awestricken by how people can pull together when any sort of shit hits the fan.  Religious, racial, and cultural differences are swiftly ignored and reviled by folks as each person does what s/he can with the seemingly impenetrable hope that things can and will get better.  That's a testament to the goodness within us, despite our fatal flaws.  If I had not known this before I launched my GoFundMe campaign, I would have been smacked by the Clue-by-Four of Kindness within just a few hours afterward.  Thankfully, I didn't need the Clue-by-Four, because I have always had faith in my friends...my tribe.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my shriveled little heart.

I'll be back with more updates as they come.

tinhuvielartanis: (Doomsday Clock)


Does anyone else remember that movie from the 70s, Thank God It's Friday!? It featured Donna Summer singing her absolute best song, in my opinion, 'Last Dance' and co-starred a very young, very Elfin Jeff Goldblum.

What does this have to do with my fundraiser? Nothing, really. I do know, though, if I evergot to compete on Jeopardy, I wouldn't have to have a fundraiser, because I have so much useless information in my head, I would rival Ken Jennings *and* Watson. My mad useless trivia skillz would send me home with all kinds fundage, I promise you that.

We're a little over 1/5 of the way to my goal, which not only gives me a 1/5th more peace of mind than I had starting this up, but also confirms for me that, even though our species collectively sucks, we do have the potential to incline toward helping one another and our fellow Earthlings, if we are capable of doing so. The world needs more people like you guys and fewer like Pat Robertson. I went yesterday to get my prescription refills, supplies for Smidgen and Toby, yoghurt for the antibiotic I'm currently taking,enough food and beverage (juice and water) to hopefully do me 'til the 14th, and some cleaning supplies. I paid the mother unit the money I owed her and also paid my rent. All of it came to more than I'd hoped, so what you guys have sent me so far is already a couple of deep breaths of relief.

As it stands right now, I have three appointments next week. One is for an EEG with sleep deprivation on Tuesday morning. Later that afternoon, I have my pre-op appointment with Dr. Hess, at which time I will learn more about any supplies I need to have to help with a swift recovery. I then have an appointment with my pain management doctor, who has to be the one to handle my after-care pain program. You can't have two doctors throwing such meds at you. You could end up in a jail cell with your doctors for committing such a heinous crime.

My bus pass is good until the 24th of the month, so that's one less worry, since I don't think I'll be physically able to deal with transit until at least a month after the surgery. The friend I'm staying with is gonna take me to post-op doc visits, then the mother unit will take over that task when I return to the house. I have no other health-related activities in which I must participate for the rest of the month. So, I guess that's it for now. Again, thank you generous souls who have contributed so far. I don't deserve the friends I have and I hope to someday return your kindness in the best way I can, to help make your lives better in some important way. Please pass my fundraiser on to all your pals. Once you have to resort to setting up a GoFundMe in order to scrape by, pride goes out the window, so it will not bother me at all if you spread the news around like butter on bread. As I said, the $500 is the bare minimum I need to just get by without being a further burden to the mother unit or placing Smidgen and Toby in a situation where they don't have the food or medications they need. It's not a financial cushion, but I don't think you should use a site like this as a cushion. It should be a legitimate barebones need. With just this, I expect to be in another deficit long before September ends, but it will be a deficit that I can feasibly claw myself out of. Without the help, the hole will just get bigger and deeper which, in turn, will put me in the position of feeling more like a leech and useless person than I already do, by individuals who have no right or reason to impose their feelings on the matter. You're helping lift me, Smidge, and Toby up instead of watching us be torn down. I'll never forget your generosity and friendship. I'll update again soon.


If you're wondering what the heck this is all about, click the eyeballs you see in provided widget below. Should you choose to help me out, just know I really appreciate it, as does Smidgen and Toby. Ta!

tinhuvielartanis: (Doomsday Clock)

Ever wonder what pre-surgery stress looks like when you know you won't have enough money to cover surgery-related expenses after you wake up? It looks like this screen-cap of Ren Höek from the old show Ren & Stimpy.

On September 14th, I'm going to be having a pretty major surgery that dictates I have at least 10 days of recovery without a steroid-bloated dog and a 14 pound monster cat vying for top spot on my abdomen, which is the surgery site.

As a result, I'm having to spend my recovery time away from home, which means I'll essentially be trying to maintain two homes for at least 1/3 of the month. Since May, I have been fighting my way through the red tape of student loan disability discharge after my monthly fixed income started getting garnished over $200 a month, leaving me in a deficit every month since.

That, combined with the extra expenses I am facing with co-pays, surgery-related medications and extra doctor visits, pulling my weight with my friend and her daughter, who are letting me camp out at their home during the recovery process, and providing proper finances to my mother and roommate, so they can take care of my cat and dog in my absence, means I'm probably going to run out of money very shortly after the 14th. If that happens, I will probably end up doing without medicines and any after-care therapies I might need to successfully recover, which will only add to my health and financial problems in the future.

I've done the calculations and I'm figuring at the bare minimum, I could scrape by and not be a burden to anyone with my transportation, food, an pet maintenance needs, if I could raise $500. Whatever you can do to help with this would be appreciated beyond my ability to properly express.

Even if I don't reach my $500 goal, anything will help at this point, so please give it some thought and, if you think I'm worth the gamble, click the appropriate buttons.

Thanks for reading!

tinhuvielartanis: (Shriekback Logo)

Last night, the Mother Unit knocked on my door and said "mail call!"  She came in and handed me a mail order catalog and a small white lined mailer with a customs label on it.  I knew right away what I was in for, but I took a deep breath and told myself to be patient and wait for tomorrow.

Well, tomorrow is now today, and I opened that bad boy up to find the shiny new Care CD by Shriekback!  I must say, I'm delighted with the album, now that it has finally established its rightful place in world of Compact Disc.  And I'm even more thrilled with the fact that it boasts among the bonus tracks, my favourite song by the Shrieks, 'Despite Dense Weed', along with the story behind how this malignant serenade came into being.  I've posted the story here before, as well as posting on You Tube when I uploaded the song from another collection.  But, I'm sharing again, because no one has the power to stop me.

This - if I may make so bold - little gem was only previously released on the Y Records Xmas album, which may not have found the Total Market Penetration it doubtless deserved, so here it comes again. Inspired partly by the novel Riddley Walker (Shriekback required reading) and also by an Acid experience in a forest in which Vivienne Kent and myself experienced being predators of a blood-thirsty, lupine/vampirish kind, and, from the top of a tree contemplated a cosy little family out for a stroll with a view to slaughter and dismemberment (their only possible use). Ah, great days - and they still haven't found the bones (joke).  Viv plays murderous viola on the end bit and the Tiny Green Garden Sticks rear their vicious little heads again.

I left the CD on the bed while I went to get some water.  When I returned to my room, this is what I beheld.


Ah, Smidgen...  She truly is my totem and spirit guide.  She knows good stuff when she sees it.  The digipak is obviously delicious.  Thankfully she did no harm to it, and even posed for a second picture.  She looks like a spokesmodel, so I have dubbed her the Shriekback SpokesManx. There's no denying like draws like.  Shriekback are brilliant and take pretty pictures, and Smidgen is the same way.  This pic should be a billboard, I swear to Christ.


I may have to cajole her into modeling with other Shriek albums.  It could become a Thing.  With the Shrieks dabbling in forbidden aural alchemy, combined with Smidgen's laissez faire attitude regarding the paparazzi, and the sentient presense of the Internet, anything is possible. While I'm working at evoking a feline pout out of the Shriekback SpokesManx, you should meander over to the Shrieks' website and buy a copy of Care while you still can.  All these reissues are limited editions so, if you don't act now, you may end up lurking in the dark corners of eBay, hoping for the chance to purchase a used copy at some godawful price that helps the band in no perceivable way.  If you're unsure you want the album, allow me to direct your attention to a version of one of the songs on the CD, entitled 'Feelers.'

It's sure to wrap around you like celestial swaddling.

New Vet

Oct. 3rd, 2014 04:17 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)

Earlier this week, I called Presidio Veterinary Hospital and set up an appointment for Smidgen and Toby to get their shots and establish them with a new doctor. I'm running three months behind on the vaccinations, thanks to health and financial issues. But, I finally was able to get the ball rolling on it today.

Mama carted the asshole (Toby), the stoner (Smidgen), and the sourpuss (me) up to the vet's office. Everyone there was super friendly, and very helpful.

It was a good thing I took them, too, because Toby had started coughing pretty badly a couple of days ago. It turns out he has bordetella! How the hell did that happen? I know I was late with the bordetella vaccine, but he hasn't been around any other animals, except for Smidgen. I got him some medicine for that.

What's really distressing right now, though, is the doc found a tiny cyst or tumour in the corner of Smidgen's eye. It's going to cost out the arse to have it removed, so I'm gonna have to put that off for at least another month, and probably have to go crying to the Mother Unit to help me. If the growth is malignant, I'm going to lose my shit, I swear to Christ. Smidgen is like my child. The only good quality I have is Smidgen. I'm terrified.

Dr. Heather Loveland is a wonderful doctor, from all I witnessed today. Her assistant, Nick, is also fantastic. I could tell that they both deeply love our furred fellow Earthlings. Even though I miss Dr. Patch and his crazy crew like mad, I'm confident that Dr. Loveland can handle my bebbehs. It's just a matter of drudging up the fundage from somewhere, somehow.

New Doctor

Jul. 8th, 2013 08:55 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
The doctor I chose for my PCP is one Dr. Krisberg. He's an older gent and he has the personality of a wet noodle. But he listened to everything I had to say regarding my health issues, and offered up referral suggestions, as well as some procedures I needed to go by in order to go forward with my getting my knee looked after, as well as maintaining neurological care.

He also wrote out all my prescriptions, whether I needed refills on some of them right now or not, so he was quite proactive in all those arenas.

I am well-pleased with him, and I think he's going to work out fine. I'll need to go back to him in a couple of months, at which time I will discuss getting a pap-smear and a mammogram. I have had neither in years and, since I have fibrocystic breast disease, not to mention the one irregular pap I got about a decade ago, I think it may be wise if I pursue an avenue of preventative care.

After the doctor office visit, the Mother Unit and I grabbed a bit, then went to the drug store so I could get my Wellbutrin.

We're in for the evening, soaking up some Defiance and babysitting the beasties. Smidgen has begun to show an interest in Buster. I don't think she would hurt him, or any of the birds, but it's better to err on the side of safety, so I'm keeping an eye on her. I'd never forgive myself if my baby ended up harming the Mother Unit's baby. That would just be...awkward.

Okay, that's it for now. I'm eating some leftover mac'n'cheese, and enjoying the rest of Defiance with the Unit. We may turn in a little early tonight, since neither of us really slept worth one single fuck last night.

There's a possibility we'll be taking Toblerone to a beach-side dog park tomorrow, so we both need our beauty sleep for when we end up on the local news on account of Toby's bad behaviour fucking up the neighbourhood.

El Move 1

Jun. 12th, 2013 10:35 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (PSA)
12 June 2013 3:30

The Mother Unit, Jeanne, and I hit the road just before 3 PM. I’m sitting in the back of the truck with Toby resting on my blown-out knee, and Smidgen chillaxin’ beside me in her travel case. The door is open so she can come and go as she pleases; she’s just more comfortable with the case right now.

I ended up packing more than I expected I would. Most of what I have are DVDs and electronics. Of course, the computer is taking up residence on my other knee. So far, I’ve been able to tap into two sources of free wi-fi. I’ll be posting what I’ve written when I come into another wi-fi spot.

That said, some of what I’m writing won’t be in synch with the time I post.

Right now, we’re in Anderson County in SC. Jeanne and the Mother Unit wanted to stop at Arby’s and grab a bite. I’m not eating. I’ve been nauseated and haven’t been able to eat anything but about a half cup of chicken & rice, courtesy of Janice. I’m nursing a frozen peach drink along with some water, so it’s all good.

I know I meant to write more about how the roles in the Vampire Relics changed over time, but I just haven’t had the time and capacity of thought to engage in such shenanigans. Maybe tonight, once we’re settled in a hotel room, I can finish that up in short order.

10:30 PM

So here we are in Bessemer, Alabama. Toby is trying to illicit pity and a bite of the Mother Unit’s sandwich, and Smidgen is chilling out in the bathroom. We’re waiting for her to finally venture out of her case, but she seems relatively unconcerned about that at the mo. She’ll change her arrangements when she’s ready.

As for me, I’m freakin’ POOPED. I’m hoping all the packing and travelling will help me get at least a little bit of sleep. We’ll see.

I’ve got some pictures to upload, but my connection here at the hotel isn’t the best in the world, so maybe I’ll get to share them tomorrow.


Nov. 26th, 2012 10:53 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
In the past six months or so, Smidgen has been on me like a freckle, and I have connected to her so much more than before. If I'm sitting down, she's right there. I hug her and she does nothing but purr louder. I pet her rabbit fur and she just vibrates with pleasure. When I'm lying down, she's on my chest, oftentimes with her face against my cheek, purring. If she's not on me one way or another, she walks the floor yowling. That drives me crazy, so I encourage her to be with me. Janice says I'm too attached to her, that I'm going to be destroyed when she dies. She is eight years old and healthy as a horse, so I expect she will be with me for at least another ten years. Since the coyote attack, she stays in the house, going out sometimes to use the bathroom if she doesn't want to use the litter pan. She goes under the porch to do her business, then comes right back in.

I love this cat dearly. I've haven't been this attached to an animal since Henry, my beagle boy. She has been the greatest comfort to me since Aunt Tudi's passing. It's as if she knows I'm damaged and she's doing everything she can to heal me. I realise it's slow going, but she does make things better on a daily basis. Smidgen is my rock when nothing else can reach my spirit.

She's with me right now, with on paw on my arm and one on the edge of the computer. It's a wonder she's not working her way onto my lap, between me and the computer screen. My constant companion, my dearest friend. I don't know what I would do without her.
tinhuvielartanis: (Family Dog)
When Chester gets up from his naps, he limps a little. The longer he walks, the more the limp goes away. It's arthritis, I know. But he's twelve years old now, being born in November of 2000. Chester also has cataracts. They aren't too bad, and he can see fine, but I know he's going blind. Yorkies tend to live from twelve to sixteen years. I figure he has a good four years, because he's always been treated like a king, and taken care to the point that he's had no health issues, except the occasional mild case of ear mites. I feel guilty wishing that I didn't have the animals to take care of until they pass, so I can get out of this house, but I can't help it. I think this is what I'm going to talk to the therapist about tomorrow, especially since Chester was a Christmas gift for Aunt Tudi, who was devastated when Winnie died of a heart attack in her arms. He was twelve when that happened and in poor health. When we adopted him from the girl who used to work at the vet's office, he was so overweight, he looked like a square foot stool We managed to get the weight off, but it was too late.

I don't know how old Toby is, but Smidgen now eight years old, and Seedling is just over a year old. I think Toby is pretty young 'cos he still has a lot of puppy characteristics, wanting to play, and causing all manner of chaos. Chester has finally had enough of him and goes Mediaeval on his arse now. I don't try to stop him unless it gets too out of hand. Toby needs to learn to stop bullying the other animals. I think he's realising that you don't bully a terrier...ever. Chester may be as cute as an Ewok, but he's related to freakin' pit bulls. In a really bad fight, Chester would flatten Toby.


Jul. 4th, 2012 08:47 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Caveman)
I missed my appointment with the psychiatrist. I thought it was on the seventh. No. It was on the second. I'm gonna have to call the on Monday and beg for forgiveness and a new appointment. I feel like a complete loser. I can't even keep my appointments straight.

I am waiting for my new car (well, new to me) to arrive in Greenville from Columbia. Hopefully it will be today. It is not the yellow one, nor is it the black one with a red interior (the Maul-mobile!). This Smart Car is red and only has, I think, 3000 miles on it. It's practically new. And it has a few black bits, so I am not complaining. I just need to fine a way over there.

Diane is doing okay. They put a couple of stints in her heart and is making her go to cardiac rehab for, I think, two weeks. I know she can't drive for two weeks, and that's driving up the wall. She's used to be on the move. Even though she griped about never having time at home, Diane does love to travel about. When I get the Smartie, I'm gonna take her for a ride. I'll stuff Bobby in the back, and awaaaaay we'll go!

I found a picture of the first Smart Car I ever saw. Aunt Tudi and I spied it in Cas Gwent (Chepstow), Wales. Aunt Tudi was over the moon for it, and I was right behind her. I told her that someday, we'd have to get us a Smart Car, but she said it was too small for the two of us and the animals we'd have to take to the veterinarian. I understood her logic, but I was still disappointed that we could not get one. Besides, we'd never seen a Smartie in America, so Aunt Tudi and I were pretty certain they weren't even available across the pond.

I dread tonight. Everyone is going to be setting off fireworks and blowing things up. The patriots will be skittering about like roaches, acting like complete idiots like we told we should act. Our programmers and owners demand nothing less. Those of us who have rejected such submissive behaviour will probably end up dead or in a concentration camp. Will that stop me? No fucking way. I am averse to being told how to act and what to do on certain days. It's trite and tiresome.

Speaking of trite, I made a comment on Facebook about not liking Joss Whedon. And here came the faithful Whedonites, telling me that he's the bees knees. It's like some sort of crime to not like Whedon and especially say that you do. Goddess forbid you deviate from the consensus that Joss Whedon is god returned to Earth to save us all. Firefly sucked, Alien4 Resurrection sucked, Buffy, the Vampire sucked, and Angel sucked. The shows essentially all had the same characters, but with different names. I find that reprehensible and more than a little tiresome. Joss Whedon needs to go away, and his fans need to get over themselves. Everyont\e has an opinion; mine is radically different from the Geek Status Quo. And you know what? I don't give on flying fuck.

Ever since Smidgen was left outside overnight and I spent a majority of my time over at Diane's lately, she has attached herself to me like a tribble covered in Krazy Glue. Right now, she's the proud owner of my right thigh. Last night, she lay on my chest and purred until my breast bone felt numb. It is very odd to have a cat who behaves like Smidgen. The last cat we had, Paisley, was fiercely independent. She did not appreciate being petted, she abhored being picke dup, and she was totally intolerant of other cats. Even dogs. She tried to kill my beagle Henry when he was just a puppy. Needless to say, Henry was always submissive to Paisley. For 19 years, I unable to have any more cats. When Smidgen passed, i found baby Smidge tottering along the edge of our fence. She was only five months old and very poorly. After nursing her back to hell, I discovered that she was the Anti-Paisley. It was a strange experience after 19 years of fierce independence and indifference to everything. When the dogs pass, i'm going to hit the road, and Smidgen is coming along with me. I don't know where we'll en up but, wherever it is, they'll have to accept my my wee fur baby. She is eight years old. If she lives as long as Paisley did, she will ve with me for at least another decade. That is, if the Alpaca Lips doesn't happen in December.

If always contented that when the Higgs Bosun Particle was found, it would mean the end of us all. Guess what? They think they've found it with that freak-ass atom smasher in Switzerland. That thing is going to end up creating a tiny black hole that will spaghettify the entire planet. It just shows that Switzerland sucks.

I'm hungry. It must be time for some macaroni and cheese. If only Andy Partridge were here to share it with me. Ho hum.
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
So, she's sitting on my thigh (and still is), and she's purring and bumping me with her head, so I start petting her. And cat hair starts flying everywhere, sticking to my computer screen, sticking to my face, sticking to the dogs. Let's not even talk about the carpet.

So I say, "Smidgen...the hair, the hair! What's with all the cat hair?"

And she looks at me as if to say, "What other kind of hair would I have, you dumb bitch?"

I shut up and kept petting her like an obedient human.
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
I could not spend one more minute in this bastard of a house, so Diane came early yesterday and took me back to her house. I called and asked Janice to please let the dogs in close to dark, as I had left them out to chill in the sun, and to please please please make sure Smidgen was in.

Years ago, Smidgen was attacked by something, maybe a coyote, I don't know. Her side was ripped and I had to take her to Dr. Patch so he could sew her up and put in a drainage tube. That cat never left my side while she was recuperating. And she'd have nightmares, horrible nightmares. Months after the attack, she would leap out of sleep, ripping me or Aunt Tudi a new one as she launched off us, because I really believed she was suffering from effects of fresh PTSD. Ever since then, she's never left the house. She either uses the litter pan, or goes out and under the porch for a quick tinkle. She will sometimes go out onto the porch and bask in the rays of early morning. But she never ever strays far, and literally panics if I don't immediately let her in when she comes back to the door.

I had asked Janice to also let the dogs out this morning, and Smidgen if she wanted to go out. I knew I'd be coming home about an hour or two later than their scheduled bathroom break, and I didn't want to come home to have to clean up dog poop.

I got home around 9:15 this morning, and accounted for everyone except for Smidgen. I called Janice to see if Smidge had been in the house last night. She said no, that she couldn't get her to come home. And she told me that she hadn't seen Smidgen this morning when she let the dogs out.

I lost my mind. I immediately went into hysterics. This cat is more precious to me than all the gold in the world. She is the one who did everything she could to comfort me weeks after Aunt Tudi died. She would lie on my chest and purr, and place her cheek against mind. She does that to this day. Cats don't just purr out of happiness. When they are in pain, even emotional pain (and they do have emotions), they will purr to self soothe. They will purr to soothe one another. And they will purr to comfort their pet humans. This is what she was doing.

I ran. I ran all over the hill, to the edge of the forest and back. I crawled under the house and checked the out-buildings, constantly calling her name. None of the cats who live with me answer to 'kitty-kitty.' They know their names, and especially Smidgen. She answers to Smidgen and her nicknames Smidge and Pretty Girl. Diane and Bobby helped me look. Diane drove down the back road, calling for her and checking the edge of the forest to make sure Smidgen had not been hit by a car and had crawled into the ditches.


And I stopped breathing. I couldn't catch my breath. I could not breathe. I felt like I was having a heart attack. Diane thought she was gonna have to drag me to the E/R. And she would have had to drag me, because I wasn't about to leave the house.

Then I caught a glimpse of a large owl eye peeking at me from under the pile of trash on Uncle Michael's and Janice's trailer. I knew it was Smidge. She had been 25 feet away from the house the whole time, but would not come out. It took me a good twenty minutes to coax her out, she was so afraid. This is how she is when she inadvertently spends the night outside. When she stepped out far enough, I pulled her out and to me like it was the end of the world.

She's in now.

And I can't stop crying.

Two animals have passed since Aunt Tudi died. And I'll grieve when the ones who live with me now pass. But Smidgen. She is different. If I had lost her, they would have had to put me in the hospital on suicide watch. I can't even bear to think about it. I know it may sound stupid to some people, but this is just how it is.

If Janice had told me Smidge hadn't come in last night, I would have asked Diane to bring me straight home. There is no way I could have tolerated being away when Smidgen might have needed me.

I don't care how haunted and tormented I am in this house, I am never leaving it again.
tinhuvielartanis: (Herne_Moon)
Something is going on with Smidgen. For the past seven days, she has insisted on being on me like a freckle, day and night. She has actually jumped up and crawled onto the laptop, typing her own strange and alien cat language and looking at me as if to say, "I got you! I got you!" Now, she always responds favourably when I call her "pretty grrrrl..." But this is just ridiculous, what she did earlier this morning. I lay down in the hopes of grabbing some sleep and, as usual Smidgen jumped up and sat on my chest, then started her biscuit-making routine. I made the mistake of whispering "pretty grrrl..." and she started smacking my face. Literally smacking my face. No claws, just light smacks. Then she placed both paws on my lips as if to say "shut your piehole," and began purring like an old tractor. And, right now, she's lying on one of my thighs vibrating like a damned tribble high on quadrotriticale. She is constantly on me like a freckle.

I have a beef about Twitter right now. I may have to turn off my Tweetdeck for awhile, because every few seconds, I get the same message from different people in different languages: "Tim Roth to head Cannes jury for Un Certain Regard." How many times do you people have to announce it? I mean, since late yesterday and on through the night (yeah, no sleep for me!), I know I've gotten a good hundred messages like this, and I'm being conservative in my estimation. Sure, I'm all over Tim Roth, oh how I wish, but damn. This is just ridic (as [livejournal.com profile] gunslingaaahhh would say). Give it a rest, people Even the Dogon tribe in the wilds of Africa know what's going on in Cannes now. GAH, and I just got another one. That's it. ::closes down Tweetdeck:: Besides, if I get any important tweets, they'll show up on my phone.

I am supposed to go to the Liberal Catholic Apostolic Church to watch my former High Elder (and the best partner I ever had in Circle) get consecrated as a bishop in the church. It's all very strange to see him in the role of a Christian, and a devout one at that! And he really is a true Christian, as far as I can see. He lives a life of peace, he tries to be the best he can be for himself and those around him, and he never forces his beliefs on anyone. If this is his true chosen path, I wish nothing but the best for him, and I will definitely be there for him tomorrow and beyond, in whatever capacity I can manage. Still, though, it is kind of surreal to see Lord Ariel Morgan become a bishop with the name Aaron Edmund Cass. I'm very proud of him, truth be told! I haven't worn a dress/skirt since May of 2006, so this will be interesting. My skirt is a little loose on me, but it won't slip off, and my blouse is a perfect fit now, so that's all good. Oh, and HEH, the old Caledonii website is still present on the Internet. I may ask Aaron about that tomorrow when we have a chance alone together. All of this reminds me of the German saying, "nichts ist dauernd als der Wechse"l (sp), "nothing is lasting but change." If we don't change, we stagnate and eventually die much earlier than we should, our lives never really reaching the fullest of intention. So yeah, it's going to be quite interesting tomorrow. Pictures shall be taken, you can bank on that. While I'm there, I may just ask Aaron if he'll pray for me regarding my finding some peace from the loss of Aunt Tudi, and the piss-poor luck I've had with everything else of late. He has always been incredibly powerful when it came to communing with the Divine. Our Drawing Down of the deities when we were officiating priest and priestess, was always Vast and Mighty. We almost always achieved our goal, and later had to be told what was said and done, because neither of us was completely mortal during that time. The God and Goddess were truly present in Circle. We were told repeatedly that our eloquence and the body language so vital to Magickal workings were breathtaking. Somewhere, somehow, that Magick is still alive and vibrant. But I'm getting off subject, so I'll end it right there. Look at this, all these wordy words just to say "a longtime friend of mine is becoming a bishop and I'm gonna be there to support him." Sheesh.
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
Random pictures recently taken.

Toby, Chester, Smidgen, Geico, and the Tat )
tinhuvielartanis: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
Smidgen has gotten in the habit of extending one arm and gently placing her hand on my bare flesh. She then contracts her little fingers and digs her nails into the aforementioned flesh. It's not particularly painful, but it sure is an attention getter. When I look to ask her what on Earth she's doing, she has this look of triumph on her face that screams "she's miiiiine, all miiiine!" I love my Smidge, but sometimes I get the feeling that I'm nothing but a possession she keeps around for personal amusement.


Jul. 30th, 2010 09:17 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Smidgen and Tin May 2009)
I'm sitting here with Smidgen draped across my chest and shoulder, her purr quite loud in my left ear. Cats are such wonderful creatures; there's really no other entity like them on Earth. I'm grateful to have one openly love me the way that Smidgen does. Her presence at these times brings me an unfathomable peace.
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
I just finished weighing Smidgen...SMIDGEN...  She's a smidge over 12 pounds of solid muscle.  Great googly-moogly!



tinhuvielartanis: (Default)
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