Okay, so I’m finally moving out of this lethargy or depression or whatever you want to call it that I seemed to be experiencing for the last several months.
Ironically, I started this post some time ago and never really got around to finishing it.
What’s there to say? Well, the DB and I have pretty much finished all of the unpacking and setting up that we’re going to do. Most of my books (say, 97%) are in storage, which is frustrating, but saved time on unpacking. I got rid of a fair bit of stuff, though probably not as much as the DB might’ve liked, but whatever, I did what I was ready to do.
The kitties handled things fairly well, or at least as well as could be expected. I had them shut up in a room in the basement (yes, we now have multiple floors!), and I let Thena out to explore a little bit when the guys were packing up the DB’s place. She was putting on a brave face, but stuck really close to her mommy and acted extremely sucky for the duration. Venus stuck her head in a corner, tried to hide in a little cubby area, and finally settled for hiding under the stairs and staying there as long as she could.
We gave them access to the house after everyone had left, and they spent most of the night under the bed. I woke up during the night to see Venus sleeping on the bed, which was encouraging, but she was back and hidden in the morning.
In the end, Venus ended up with a bladder infection, so the money that I ‘saved’ on my first month of cohabition and then some went into paying for her to get tested and treated. Fortunately, they love her at the vet, because she’s so placid and freaked out when she’s there that they don’t have any difficulty doing horrible things to her (that visit: a urinalysis, which consists of a big needle in the bladder; x-rays, which means kitty has to be held on her side while loud noises go on; and an enema, which is just plain rude, no matter how you feel afterwards). Apparently when they picked her up after one of the tests, probably the x-rays, she rested her head on the person’s shoulder, which is heart-melting no matter who you are.
Shortly after that, the DB’s parents came to stay with us for a weekend, bringing with them a huge couch that belongs to Venus and took a lot of effort to get into the house, a coffee table and two end tables. The stress of that visit and commotion (which included the DB’s uncle drunkenly yelling at Venus to come up and hang out with everyone) led to some problems as well, but nothing bladder-related. DB’s mom was completely understanding; cat people are great. The DB’s a cat person as well, but his patience with this stuff is shorter than mine. Ah well.
My folks came out to the house (which they’d seen the previous weekend) for a brunch with DB’s folks. Everything went well, there was no bloodshed and everyone seemed to get along quite well. My parents took the opportunity to tell stories about how horrible I was as a child — though they refrained from telling the ones involving poo — and I think DB’s folks did the same about him. It’s since gotten back to me that my parents have talked to coworkers/my sister about the visit, and I guess they were impressed — both at my culinary feats, though DB did most of the cooking that morning, and at the overall tidiness of the house. I was telling DB about this last night (since I only learned of some of it from my sister during our Christmas shopping expidition), and yadda yadda yadda, I think I now have permission to nag at him about stuff. And yes, I’m ashamed of myself for using a Seinfeld-ism.
Last weekend was the DB’s work Christmas party, and pictures from that have yet to surface, but I hope shall soon. I saw at least one or two of us that were taken that looked quite nice — of course, that’s in miniature. Who knows what ridiculous faces I’ll be making when the pics are seen full-sized?
I’ve been doing a lot — a lot — of thinking lately about relationships and people I’ve dated and such the last while, but I’m not going to relate it all here now. I think this is going to be long enough to test most people’s tolerances as it is. I think in a lot of ways the internet and email and instant messenger programs frustrate the crap out of me. I’ve saved many past chat logs or letters or emails for various reasons, and sometimes if I happen upon them and read them, I wonder why I didn’t speak up more forcefully? But when it comes to certain personality types or people, there’s just no winning. I’ve dated the victim mentality types, and I’ve dated those who had the world on their side and nothing short of marriage would’ve sufficed (and still not won over the friends), and I’ve … blah. I don’t even know where I’m going with this, or what I’m trying to say. I guess the short version is that life isn’t fair, people aren’t always going to like you, and no one really wants to see that they have personality flaws that can contribute to the demise of a relationship — myself included. I’ve acted well in the past, and I’ve acted poorly in the past. I can be an amazing girlfriend, and I can be a very remote, distant one. I’m not an ice queen by anyone’s stretch of the imagination, but the very fact that I don’t always act as emotional as some (i.e., Smooshy, drama queen extraordinaire), has meant that I’ve been incorrectly labeled as such (UBFM, Smooshy, coworker, to some extent the AB). The problem with me is that I can be determined (bull-headed, I think my mom has said), and sometimes, though not always, I will act in the way I best see fit, even if it means hurting people’s feelings. If it’s for the greater good of a friendship/relationship/person’s sanity, sometimes it’s better to hurt someone and move on.
I think; like I said, I don’t know what I’m saying, and as always, I’m trying to cast myself in the best possible light. Is it a strength that I can admit to past misdeeds and learn from them, or is it a character flaw that I’ve acted poorly?
People bug me. Even my friends bug me at times. I dislike hypocrisy, and I dislike when people try to impose their life view on me. Just because you have chosen a particular path as the ideal one for you does not mean it will have the same benefits or results for me.
No, supervisor of mine, I will not be having children in the near future just because a) three women who work directly around me are pregnant; b) I’m living with someone of the male persuasion; c) our parents have met. It is not inevitable, particularly as I am well-acquainted with birth control, I can keep my knees together (shut up, it happens), I have no desire for children at this point in my life, the DB is in no rush to have children at this point in his life, we have not discussed having children together, and I’d rather like to be married for a little bit first, before I start having children.
I also do not view children as the ultimate by-product of my existence on this earth; if it should happen to pass that I or my future spouse are sterile, then so be it. I refuse to feel like I’m less of a person because of it. I do not view children as a miracle, I view them as a product of biology. We are, as a species, meant to reproduce. It’s something our bodies were designed to do, much like bleed, breathe, sleep, run, walk, pee, shit, fart, and so on. Granted, I don’t equate having kids with peeing (FSM save me if I give birth as often as I pee), but having had several women liken childbirth to taking a giant poop, well… it’s hard not to draw a comparison somewhere.
As a general rule, any two idiots can create a child together. I’ve known many idiots who have. It takes a real person to be a good parent — and I’ve known many of those, too.
Just because I have a uterus does not mean that my destiny is to have children. That is my choice, and the choice of my future spouse’s, and is no one’s business but our own. And I just know that this person is someone whose head would more or less explode if I sat down some day and explained that I would never be having children, if that was the choice I made. Again, it’s no one’s business but my own, and it shouldn’t be a conversation I have to have with a supervisor at work unless it’s to say that in x number of months I’ll be needing maternity leave, but if it comes to pass… I’ll just get the “you’ll change your mind” speech that will make my blood boil, I’m sure.
Some of this is coming about because two different friends/acquaintances have recently discussed having themselves surgically sterilized to combat problems they’ve been having for years with regards to their reproductive organs. And I thought about it last night and thought how unfair it is to have to make that decision at what constitutes a relatively young age (they’re both around 24, if memory serves), and how unlikely it is that a man would ever have to opt to be sterilized to address a problem he’d been having with his reproductive tract. Yes, girl parts, in and out, are much more complicated on the whole than boy parts, but boy parts are also much more researched and studied and understood. It wasn’t that long ago that science assumed that women were basically men turned inside out.
Anyhow, this stream of consciousness has been brought to you by my cold (and lack of cold medication), and I think I’ll end it here before I start babbling about how unfair it is that some of the seats on the bus are too high for my feet to touch the ground, so any sharp turns result in a rather precarious bracing exercise for me, especially if I’m in an outside seat. But I do enjoy busing again, because I get to read once more.
Also, it’s really nice to look at a moderately healthy bank balance and realize that all of that money is actually yours, because you’ve already set aside the money you need for rent, and don’t have to worry about surviving for two weeks on the leftover. Take that, old expensive noisy apartment!
Finally (I promise, I really am leaving soon — all of this babbling has really made me have to pee, never mind the large coffee I drank before starting this), I thought moving to the suburbs meant a leave from noisy neighbours and ridiculous parties. The DB and I were woken a few weekends ago at 4 a.m. by the neighbours across the street having a brawl that included someone chasing another with a 2×4. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them many times since, and I have to wonder if they aren’t frat guys sharing a rental space. Ah well, that was a few weeks ago, and there haven’t been problems since, *knock wood*.