Casting into the void --- is anyone there?

So I've been contemplating my worth recently.

I am undergoing therapy for a sexual assault that happened when I was in my early teens. I'm 54, almost 55. My therapist sees a lot of young children, too, and that breaks my heart. She says the little kids take to therapy much better than most adults. They're resilient and believe what they're told. She tells them the sexual assault is not their fault, and they just believe it. She tells me my experiences are not my fault and it's ... it doesn't make sense that I don't have some culpability in the scenario.

Winter is approaching. Summer is over. I'm thankful for that. As has been mentioned in this space previously (a lot) I don't fare well in the heat. It's cold enough to need a fire in the wood stove. I'm back in my bedroom with the door closed, so it's a good bit cooler here than in the living room. I'm comfortable in a short sleeve dress. Ahhh.

My sleep quality is poor these days because my obstructive sleep apnea has gotten worse. I had a sleep study last month that determined I need increased pressure on my CPAP machine. The doctor gave me a prescription for a new CPAP with the increased setting. The supplier has all the necessary information. Then they told me it'll be 3-5 weeks before I get my fucking CPAP. Bastids. I'm snoring through my current CPAP, having apnea episodes, waking up with a sore throat from snoring so hard, and I'm tired all the time. Speaking of which, it's almost time for a nap. I love naps.

A couple of years ago I lost a good bit of weight, around 60 pounds. Well, I've gained most of it back. I should get back to the gym. I need a new gym membership, though. I'm strongly considering the local YMCA. I looked into it a few months ago and found that membership fees for people over 55 are discounted. Since I'll be 55 in January I figure I'll wait until then. I also had the bright idea to do some yoga in the meantime, to get limber and possibly strengthen my core, or whatever. I visited the yoga studio, got the business card of the woman I need to talk to. But alas, I haven't taken it any further. Yet. Maybe after Thanksgiving.

I'm very good at procrastinating. It's one of my greatest talents. (Note that it's been nearly six months since my last post. I occasionally think of posting, then something else happens.)

Sproing was in the county jail for 5 blissfully drama-free months. It was a bogus arrest, though, and he didn't deserve to be there. He was there awaiting trial for a piddly little charge, and didn't get a court date for a ridiculously long time. He was charged with auto break-in and petty theft. He allegedly opened an unlocked car and took some loose change from the ashtray. Why anyone would leave their car unlocked in that neighborhood I do not know. (It's "the projects") The only thing they had on him was the testimony of one of his hoodlum friends, who probably did it himself, the little punk. Sproing says he didn't do it, and I believe him. Yeah, he's a liar, but he's been pretty honest about the crimes he's committed. And really, auto break-in and petty theft and they leave him to sit and wait for five months? Geez. He didn't get a trail, either. The solicitor's office assumed guilt and offered him pre-trial intervention (PTI), which costs $350 (which he doesn't have) and 40 hours of community service. He doesn't even mind the community service. And it'll be good for him. After the completion of the PTI his record will be expunged. All very well and good, but he didn't do the crime in the first place. Shit. The criminal "justice" system is fucked up.

Superman, Twitch, and I are going to visit my in-laws for Thanksgiving. This year Thanksgiving happens to fall on my father-in-law's birthday, so his kids have decided to make the whole thing into a birthday party instead. I mean, it'll be Thanksgiving with the whole feast thing, we'll just call it Grand Dad's birthday. It's cool. BUT, it's the in-laws. They are ... well, they have social and political and religious views that are different from mine. They also disapprove of cussing. I'm fucked. (Actually, last time I visited I managed to go three days without cussing in their presence once!!) My m-i-l voted for Trump. F-i-l voted third party. To their credit, neither of them likes Trump, but they preferred him to Hillary. I'm hoping for no political discussion. They have a lovely screened back porch to which I can escape if the discussion gets too uncomfortable.

And speaking of complicated discussions, they want to hear all about Light's new boyfriend. Yes, Light has a boyfriend. Superman and I visited them in late October. He's a wonderful fellow, about three years younger than Light's 27 years, will graduate from IUP next month with a dual degree in English and religious studies. That's what the in-laws will like. That he's from western Pennsylvania, not a plus to these southern rebels. Grand Dad dreads that his great-grandchildren will be Yankees. Yes. Really.

Here's the rest of the story. The religious study the bf concentrated on is Buddhism. Not protestant Christianity which is the only acceptable option in their opinion. We won't tell them that. The "boy" part of boyfriend is his gender identity which doesn't correspond to his DNA or body morphology. No unplanned pregnancies in this monogamous relationship! So no Yankee grandchildren unless they do the sperm donor thing. Which Light is considering. I'm thrilled that she's in love with a wonderful young transgender man. There's a lot we won't be telling the grandparents.

There's a cat sleeping on my arms, making it difficult to type. The whole nap idea seems more and more appealing.

Random interesting stuff

In honor of Blogger allowing me to post today, I bring you things my ADDled brain has found interesting.

• In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock. -- Thomas Jefferson

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see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Frankly, I haven't seen anything else interesting all day. But then, I haven't done much.

There is a cat on my study notes and other rants and ramblings

There is not enough art in my life dammit. Not enough beauty. (I can tell when I have hit the crux of the matter when tears form in my eyes.) I was going to say something about visual arts, music, and other performance art, but I realize that it boils down to a lack of beauty.

I've been hovering near the edge of tears for a few days now. Don't know why. I know why I don't know why, though. I'm not giving myself time to sit and contemplate. I need time alone to mull things over. Even when I'm in my room by myself I can feel the influence of others in the house. Would I feel this way in, for instance, an apartment with thin walls and noisy neighbors? I don't know. At home I know that others could come in the room. I'm available in an emergency, and others' concept of "emergency" is much broader than mine.

Earplugs help. I like to think earplugs would help in noisy-neighbor-apartment conditions, too, but I don't really know. Anyone want to weigh in on the question? Operators are standing by. Plus, if you call in the next ten minutes, you will receive a bonus package of a dozen replacement widgets.

I have an exam in my Behavioral Stats class today. I was studying, but Samhain (the sleek black cat) settled himself on the paper I was making notes on. He's very content. I've studied pretty well for this one, I think. I'm going over some definitions now (or was) and am fairly confident about most of those. Needs a bit more work. Other stuff I think I've got. We shall see.

This is what I mean by art and beauty. Well, some of what I mean. There's more. I'll know it when I see it, but can't really express it now.

Miss Perky, my fitness and wellness instructor, lectured about cardiovascular disease today. She's five foot nuthin', blonde, and fit as a fiddle. Of course. And perky. Gawd, how annoying. Probably even more annoying at 8:00. Thankfully I don't see her until after 10:00. She's a nice lady, though. I don't like the class, I don't like how she teaches it, but from what I've gathered about her as a person, I like her. Mostly. Except she emphasizes exercise so much it grates on my nerves. [*]

*Translation: I react poorly to her enthusiasm. I get nervous and uncomfortable when confronted with all this blatant truth about my lack of personal fitness. (Here come the tears again. They're a good indicator.) My lack of personal fitness in pretty much every broad area of my life (and I am very broad) indicates impending death. I'm 48 years old. I'm at least twice as heavy as I should be. I get very little exercise. I make unhealthy food choices. There is a lot of unresolved stress in my life. There's a history of heart disease (and mental illness) on my father's side of the family. There's a history of obesity on my mother's side of the family.

And I'm taking a course on death and dying. I've discussed this before. It's an odd, uncomfortable confluence (I love that word) of intellectual input about mortality. (That's a big sentence full of big words.) (I am parenthetically trying to divert the topic away from Me being Dead.)

I like truth, mostly. Truth can be painful. Lies can hurt, in the "damage" sense. As part of my advancing wisdom, I try to be truthful to myself about myself. This blog fits into that scheme, which means you get to read all this raw ugly truth. Or not. The next happy thing is just a click away. You are under no obligation to keep reading this maudlin pile of crap.

How would I react if I had a mild heart attack? Would it wake me up and inspire me to get fit? Or would I give up and surrender to impending death? I really can't know unless and until it happens to me. I've wondered about how I'd react to a diagnosis of cancer. My sedentary lifestyle and other bad habits put me at greater risk for cancer. They say one in three people in North America will get cancer in their lifetime. I'm a big walking welcome sign for it. I don't particularly want to get cancer, but I expect to get it eventually. Would I try to fight it? Depends on what kind of cancer it is, how treatable it is, etc. If the prognosis is bad, I think I'd rather not spend a buttload of money on treatment, but rather receive palliative care. Again, I can't know how I'd react without the real thing actually happening.

There are a few people who love and depend on me. I'm supposed to keep myself alive for their sakes. It'll do in a pinch, but it seems like an inadequate reason for living. It's probably what has kept me alive this long.

On that depressing note, I'll leave you all and go study for this test. I want to do well on this test. Today that is motivating me to stay alive. I will return and post more later. Don't know when "later" is, exactly, but I'll be back.

Update: I set some serious whupage on that test. :)

Request for technical assistance

Cats are amazingly savvy with computers. I've had the cat step on my keyboard and open up applications I didn't know my computer had. Scheherazade stepped on Superman's keyboard earlier this evening and managed to turn his screen display sideways. Does anyone know how to turn it right? He has searched for a solution online with no success. He's pushed every key combination he thinks might help, to no avail. Help!

Update: Thanks to Lewis' timely direction and useful links, the problem is solved. Lewis is Superman's Hero of the Day.

Oh Look!

I'm writing another post! I've been itching to write, though I don't know what to say. That of course won't stop me from rambling on and on about all manner of random stuff. Hang onto your hats, girls.

Random thing #1: I chopped a chunk out of my knuckle with a hatchet. Funny, I can't remember if it was last night or this morning. I was trying to make a small piece of wood into lots of smaller pieces of wood. We've been heating with wood this winter. Not exclusively, we also use electric space heaters here and there, but we're trying to use the fireplace insert to do the general heating. Superman, one of his good friends, and Twitch have been working independently and cooperatively to gather much wood. Right now, thanks to the good friend, we have a very large stack of wood on our back patio. It's almost all pine. Pine burns fast and hot. It's good for starting fires, but hardwoods are much better for maintaining a fire. We have pine. The fireplace insert is a good one, and it burns everything completely and efficiently. We have to feed it more often if only using pine.

I got off track again.

Superman left me this weekend to go play with Light and some of her friends (including a few lesbians!!! :) ) at a conference in Atlanta. He's the one, of course, who takes care of the firewood and fires and warming the house and other useful things like that. He brought in a big stack of wood before he left Friday evening. It has been unusually cold here in South Carolina, as it has been in much of the nation, so having a good supply of firewood is a good idea. We hadn't built a fire Friday morning, as no one was here to need it. After Superman left, Diva and I went out to run a few errands, and when we came home it was really cold in here! So I proceeded to lay out a fire. The thing about that is we didn't have any good small tinder pieces to lay a good base. We had a decent bit of kindling and other fuel wood, but you need both kindling & tinder* to build a good fire.

Superman keeps a hatchet beside his tinder bucket. When he left me alone the week before Christmas I was chopping kindling into tinder and accidentally dropped the hatchet. Without thinking, I grabbed for it as it fell. I caught it, which was not such a good idea because I caught the blade with my left palm and cut a big gash in the side of it there .** Actually, it wasn't too bad, just a cut, but was sore for a couple of days.

So he leaves me with Diva this weekend, and it's colder now than it was before Christmas. We need a fire, and I need tinder. There I am, using the hatchet, and by golly if it didn't slip again! I was holding the stick of wood in my left hand and the hatchet in my right (being right-handed as I am). I'm not a very good aim with that sort of thing. No sight, you know.

I should have been wearing the work glove on my left hand, but I wasn't. The hatchet glanced off the side of the stick and slipped right onto the knuckle of my index finger. It shaved off a piece of the skin. Stung like an s.o.b., especially when I washed it off. I put ointment and a bandage on it, and it's not so bad now. I think I'll survive.

Random thing #2: I can lay a really good fire when I put my mind to it.

Random thing #3: I had a lovely visit with Monkey this afternoon. Monkey is Light's roommate at college. She was in town today and came by to interview me for a class she's taking. She needed to get a birth story. I find it amusing that her mother wasn't willing to tell her about her own birth story. The class is about child and family development and such, or something like that. I really can't remember exactly what she told me, though I did ask. She needed to know my experience giving birth, how that affected my sexual relationship, and how it affected my perception of myself as a woman (or something like that). I love to tell stories! Perhaps you noticed. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. She seemed to have a good time, too. She's a precious young woman and I am blessed to know her.

Recurring theme that I mention occasionally but never really explore #1: Just exactly how do I feel about being a woman? What is my perception of myself as a woman? Why in the hell am I a woman??? It's a very big topic, and a sore one at that. It needs its own post, or series of posts. I always say that, but never write that post. Let's nutshell it: I don't feel like I embody the concept of "woman" very well. "Woman" doesn't fit me. I don't like it much.

Random thing # next: My classes begin on Monday. I have already started reading the first chapter in my social psychology book. I looked at the class website and the prof has the first assignment posted. It isn't due until Thursday, but heck, I'll get an early start on it. I'll have a few other things to do by then, I'm sure. I want to do well this semester. I want my 4.0 back, dammit. Anyway, back to social psych; it's a strange discipline. I'm not sure about it. I've only just begun, of course. Part of what I've read sounds like so much b.s. From a different angle, though, it might make sense. We shall see.

Random thing # after that: Cats!! Cats are funny. I have a couple, you know. Thursday night it was wet and icy. We had a very slight bit of snow flurry, then we got some sleet. There wasn't much precipitation at all, really, but it was cold and nasty. Samhain, our sleek black cat, wanted to go outside. He's the only one who goes out. Scheherazade is a totally indoor cat, though she's not always happy about it. So anyway, Samhain wanted to go out. He was in the bedroom with Superman, who opened our bedroom window to let him out. It's a common route of ingress and egress for Samhain. He hopped up on the windowsill and stopped, sniffing and watching, then turned around and jumped back into the room.

Superman came out to the living room and Samhain followed, and went to the back door. Superman opened the back door for him, but Samhain wasn't pleased with what he saw. He gave Superman that look that says "What's this? You've made it wet and nasty through this door, too. What's wrong with you?" He then turns and runs to to the foyer, up to our front door. So Superman followed and opened that door for the cat. This time Samhain looked up at him with disgust. "We are not amused," he seemed to say. Every exit available for the cat led into cold, wet darkness. He obviously blamed Superman for this sad state of affairs.

There are many other random things swimming around in my brain. A minute ago I thought of one I wanted to write here, but it swam away before I could catch it. It's late and I am tired. Before I leave you, though, I'll share with you what I've been listening to as I write.

*That's a cool site. It has nothing to do with starting fires. Go check it out.

** from 3:15 - 3:25

The chair in question

This is the chair that I repaired for Lady Grace. It was really a simple fix, and I enjoyed the challenge of repairing it. Three of her fur babies are enjoying the chair in this picture.

The cat perched on the arm is one of the most beautiful cats I've ever seen. She is mostly black, with little specks of color (mostly orange tabby) sprinkled across the rest of her body. Except the stomach. She has a very interesting stomach. Half of it is white, and half is pure orange tabby.

I am trying to write up a dossier on Diva's problem behaviors. I only have one entry so far. I'm going through the blog archives to find them, because it's here that have chronicled them. I'm starting from the beginning of the blog, and I don't have much written about her way back then. Most of the frustrations that wrote about related to S and C. Mostly S.

But what I came to tell you about is that it's hard to write down all the stories of her transgressions. I have forgotten most of them, stored them in long-term storage so they don't invade my thoughts so often. Now that I'm trying to dig them up, I'm also confronted with the emotions surrounding them. This, of course, is why they are in long-term storage in the first place. I need to get this as finished as possible by 3:00 today, because I want to take it to her therapist this afternoon when we go in for her (my) therapy session. So I'm off to torture myself some more. Wish me luck.

Scheherazade kitty update

Scheherazade is growing, as kittens are wont to do. She is an endless source of amusement. She likes to curl up on my breast/stomach while I'm on the computer, and that is so soothing! Her purr is very loud. She likes me to rub her neck. 

Samhain is our other cat. I may have mentioned him before. He's a solid black cat with short silky fur. We got him as a kitten a couple of years ago. He's just old enough to not exactly be a kitten, but still have some playful tendencies. He is far enough away from kittenhood, though, to be really annoyed by Scheherazade. And she's a mean little sister! She loves to pick at him. Sometimes she'll stick her nose in his face when he's trying to sleep, but she usually jumps on him in a full out attack. He gets her back, too. It was a bit frightening at first to watch them wrestle, as she is so small and I was afraid she'd get hurt. She starts it every time though, so I figure she deserves what she gets, and she hasn't been injured yet. She certainly does put up a fuss, though. Whenever he grabs her she hisses, growls, and bares her teeth at him. He doesn't say a thing. He's too busy fighting. 

Scheherazade makes some interesting noises. My favorite is the trill she sings when she is about to eat. It sounds like a combination meow and purr. Very cute.  This afternoon I locked her out of the bedroom so I could sleep undisturbed. When I let her back in she walked toward her food bowl but was not singing her food trill. She was meowing firmly, if that makes sense. Not loudly, exactly, but with emotion. She then turned to look at me over her shoulder and meowed directly at me. I got that message. Who knew cats could cuss?

Samhain has his spot at the foot of the bed on my side. I suspect he prefers my side because my feet aren't as big nor my legs as long as Superman's so Samhain has a little more room to sleep. He spends the mornings there when he can, and sometimes he'll sleep there at night. Scheherazade usually sleeps with us, also, though she moves around a lot. I sleep on my side, and she likes to climb on my ribs and curl up against my arm as it rests on my hip. Or she sleeps on my hip. Sometimes she's on Superman's chest. It usually works out pretty well until around 4 in the morning. That must be the catting hour or something. When she's the only one sleeping with us she'll climb on top of the headboard and knock things off the shelf onto our heads, or pounce on our fingers or our feet. If Samhain is in the room she attacks him. We woke up earlier this week to both of them having a royal wrestling match between us on the bed, and chasing each other under, then over, then back under the bed. He's bigger than she is, and if they aren't too fast or I'm not too asleep I can tell which one is jumping on my ribs. 

She helps me study.

She makes a beautiful bookend, but isn't very efficient at it.

Superman built a hutch for my desk. He also, as you can see from the picture above, sanded the old paint and varnish off the top of the desk. It actually looks nice under all that paint. 

She likes to climb on the shelf and look over the edge of the hutch.

I got many comments when we first named her about what sort of nickname she'd end up with. Well, she's been around for nearly four months and rarely is she called Scheherazade. Superman was the first one to come up with a good nickname for her. She's small and fuzzy and black, and when she hunkers down on the floor lying in wait to attack the Toes of Doom she looks like a smudge on the floor. So he calls her Smudge. Especially when it's dark she really does look like a spot of something smeared on the floor, though less so now that she's getting bigger. 

I frequently refer to her as the small cat, and Samhain as the big kitty. 

Twitch is our primary name-giver. He has a gift for it, actually. He named our (late) dog Ruby. He has named almost all the cats who have ever wandered into our lives. He is particularly fond of cats, and uses many pet names for our two. I've been surreptitiously making a list of the different things he calls Scheherazade. You know "Scheherazade" isn't one of them! I present to you The Names of the Cat:

kitty-boo

mao-mao

mew-mew

adorable

fuzzy

fuzzy-butt

ki' ki'

pookums

boo

floof-butt

goof

(and my favorites)

Smudgemous

ScheheraSmudge 

With the light of the camera's flash it is easy to see the black cat on the black seat of the black chair. 

My chair is between the desk and a rather dark corner of the room, and without a spotlight on the chair it's difficult to tell if there's an extra cat-cushion on it. The silly kitten doesn't voluntarily move, even when it becomes apparent that she is in danger of being squished. 

She's giving me "the look"

Even fuzzier out of focus. She likes to crawl into nooks like this shelf beside my desk. 

High is good. Her balance here is noteworthy.

Basket Kitty!!

She was not amused that my photography interrupted her nap.

And that's my kitten update. I will try to update more frequently so as not to have so much to cover in one post next time. 

Directions

Go here immediately and watch the video clip. Seriously. I mean it.