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Tuesday, Mar. 22, 2005 / 10:05 p.m. ~As I Wrote, and Was Distracted, I Fell Into It, Again~ Egad, but I think I may have just begun a flame war of sorts. I have thin skin, I don't always respond well, I am prone to misinterpretation, and others are prone to misinterpreting me. Still, do not criticize my love of the perfect sandwich, the McGriddle with sausage, egg and cheese. There are a lot of children on the Interweb, including myself. Which brings me 'round to age. I cannot believe my age. I keep saying it to myself, aloud, quietly, inside me, outside, I write it on occasion, tell people, look in the mirror as I remind myself, and what I come away with is this, I change the last of the two digits in a couple of weeks, I go up one notch, one number, and it doesn't seem right. I don't look it, I don't look like other people my age. The incongruity is downright unsettling. I never imagined myself growing old, I never pictured wrinkles and gray hairs, sagging flesh, age spots, a true neck wattle, vaginal dryness, increased sex drive, no sex partner, no partner at all, looking for a new job and not even knowing what to look for, still renting instead of owning, no children, no family. Who ever pictures it as it really is? Who plans? Many, I am certain. I know people who went to school and stayed there, who graduated and found jobs in their fields, women who fell in love and decided they would marry, decided they would have children and did, and people who feel stuck in their own firmly worn ruts and wish they'd done it all differently. Yet I've never had a plan, only dreams I never even tried to see come true. Major pause to clean more cat vomit. Norm has thrown up approximately ten times today. Just now it was self induced, self inflicted, and I've had it up to the proverbial HERE with her neruotic behavior. The ex built my old cats, my dear departed cats, a very suitable scratching post, long ago when we first moved in together, and it was a sweet and dedicated gesture, but it is old now, it has been years, close to twenty really, and the sisal rope he used to wrap it has come undone time and again, and torn apart, which is natural, but the cat, this cat in question, eats the fiber and throws up within minutes. She eats it, she knows it will make her throw up, she does this to get my attention. I used to have a cat named Kitty, and Kitty's thing was licking plastic bags. She used to vomit often as well, as a lot of cats do, dogs too, and the boyfriend I lived with way back then had said she was trying to get our attention, insisted on it. It's entirely possible. So, I've moved the scratch post away from its location of eight years (I never move anything if it's in the right spot to begin with - unlike my sister in law who used to rearrange her furniture because she could) and put it outside on the porch, and there is a big hole where it should be, and now the cats won't be able to climb it and look out the sliding glass doors beyond the porch to the world outside, and I feel badly, and I'm afraid to feed Norm because she threw up her entire dinner earlier, and isn't an online diary entry about cat vomit just so enticing? I guess I just want things to be easy, and sometimes they are, for long periods, or semi-long anyway, and then sometimes every little thing just inspires several other little things to happen along behind it, and then before I know it I'm all upset and crying because my ex boyfriend made this scratch post for my cats who died of kidney failure and feline AIDS, and now my current cats have used it for fifteen years, and I'm a sentimental fool, and I've meant to get more sisal to replace the old, and re-wrap it, but it was always an ugly piece of 'furniture', and I'd have to buy the right kind of nails to nail it in, and I'm not the 'handy' type anyway, and I had 'sisal rope' on my list of things to do and buy forever, and never did it, and now Norm has thrown up so violently because her little digestive system cannot tolerate that stuff, it's sharp, I've gotten it stuck in my skin before, fucking sisal. I think I'm guilty for how I've treated them, for how I 'raised' them, these cats, from kittens, and I'm not meant to live with anyone really, and see, now I loathe myself when really all that happened was Norm threw up, for the tenth time in the past five hours. Which, really, is a fucking lot. And I got into it in a stupid journal community a while ago, a stupid argument with an 18 year old, but my mentality is of a 10 year old, so what difference does age make really? Which brings us back to the main point. I had a great day, I felt so good, all the energies were in the right place, and now I hate myself and feel guilty, and the damned scratch post is on the porch, and I feel I can no longer post in this online forum that I really enjoyed, and why do I live my life online anyway? And where will I be in another year? I'll be even older and even more immature and incapable of living normally, and relating to others, and I'll still be meeting men online, all the wrong ones who will flirt with me and be so so interested, then get to know me and run from me, or they'll be total neurotic freaks, worse than myself, and I'll run from them. But hey, "Amazing Race" was really good tonight. And I get another two days off work in three more days. And I have money in the bank, and my car still runs, though I go nowhere but to work and home and back again. Funny how I can work my way into a depression. Funny, that. Cost of the War in Iraq
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Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
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