An open thread for personal stuff, continuing from here.
As usual for these threads: no trolls, no MRAs, no I’m-not-really-an-MRA-buts, don’t be mean.
Categories
We Hunted The MammothBucking the Backlash
We Hunted The Mammoth
Mum’s response to all these chaps being converted to kitty lovers and servants: “As it should be!”
That business about car-haters not knowing what cats are like is mostly true. I’ve never forgotten one bloke I worked with. He went through the many virtues of dogs and the presumed vices of cats. Then he came up with his killer example … The previous night he’d been watching tennis on teev, and his dog cuddled on his lap all night. You’ll never find a cat doing anything like that! he announced.
Even the non-cat owners laughed at that.
Lawd, what a dunce! ::facepalm::
Argh I have FINALLY got my tax done (tax time is 1 July to 31 October here, for you USians). Wasn’t looking forward to it, what with the lump sum payments and suspending my health insurance and so on, but it turned out to be less complicated than I thought. Thank goodness they do still have paper forms instead of forcing us to do it on that fucking useless etax site.
Kitties and dudes (back to more important things) … I always knew the Cardinal was a cat person; it gets mentioned in practically all the books about him, and in books about famous cat lovers. Never thought Louis would be; he loved dogs and horses and hunting birds, back then, and if he’d had kitties it would have been mentioned. But he liked them in a general way, and certainly passed legislation protecting them from some truly horrible stuff (you do not want to read about it) as an adult. Could well have been pushed by the Cardinal, but he had to agree for it to pass.
So, fast forward to any time post-1981, and when any of our kitties died, we’d bury them with little pictures of Louis and the Cardinal, like passports almost – “Look for them, they’ll look after you until I get there.” Only a hopeful thing, a comforting thing, and a sort of joke thing, given how many kitties the Cardinal would have to look after already (he had fourteen when he passed away).
Fast-forward again … and a certain ex-king has nine dogs (seven from his earthly days, two blow-ins who’ve been with him a while) and ten kitties, nine mine and one definitely his (Miss Rochelle, who’s been with us a few years). He’s been converted from liking cats well enough to being as fond of them as he is of the canine Furrinati, and just as much under their furry little thumbs, much to the Cardinal’s amusement and mine, I might add!
My aunt’s husband was one of those guys who didn’t care for cats. But she insisted on getting kitties. First a brother and sister and then several years later a third cat who was found starving in a drainage pipe as a kitten and needed a home. Now he loves kitties. They always win you over when you live with them.
I think the reputation cats have for not being loving and snuggly stems from the fact that cats tend to bond with one or two people and dgaf about anyone else. You can easily go your whole life without experiencing kitty love if you don’t live with them.
Even then, it’s NotAllCats. Think of all those friendly kitties who are quite happy to be petted and fussed over by strangers! There were lots of cats like that in Tachbrook St in Pimlico when Mum and I stayed there, and we’d go shopping that way because there’d usually be someone hanging around who was up for pets and belly rubs. Maybe those cats are the opposite of the usual image of cats aiming for people who don’t like them – these ones heard the “kittykittykitty” stuff and responded, or maybe just saw the big neon SUCKER FOR CATS signs we have over our heads.
… Oooh, that just reminded me of the calico kitty who lived at the Royal Mews (heh) then. Sooooo adorable.
Or there was Duke, the Russian Blue (mostly) I’d see on the way to work. He’d be lounging on his front porch and come bounding out for tickles the minute you’d say hello to him, follow you down the street a ways and flop down in front of you when you tried to leave. I say “you” because his dad told me he was like this with everyone. Gorgeous boy.
I wish I could get a kitty. My mom babysat her stepson’s cat for the last two weeks and it was very special. She’s not even a nice kitty but she’s sooooo cute and entertaining. She climbed on top of the diningroom table after company had left and proceeded to eat the flowers in the centrepiece. I bet she vommed them up all over the diningroom the following morning.
Here he is. Isn’t he adorable? No name as yet.
Oh. My. Bootsey.
/me dies
Awww the little sweetie!
Trigger warning: I’m about to harsh your buzz. Prepare for emorachel.
I don’t have any friends. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. People know I’m super smart and value my intelligence – I’m everyone’s favourite teacher and student and employee – and they value my body in that there’s never a shortage of people trying to have sex with me. Whether they like me for my intelligence or my body though, people always take off afterwards or turn tail when they realise I won’t give them what they’re after. I know I’m smart and sexually attractive. I just want to be liked though. I want people to want to be around me because they like me and being around me is pleasant and I just can’t manage this. Why does no one like me?
I lose friends whenever I’m in a relationship. Part of that’s just life. Study’s show you lose two friends on average every time you begin a new romantic relationship. I definitely neglected friends during mine though and as a result when I needed them the most they weren’t around.
I’ve been trying my damndest to socialise over the last couple months since I’ve been able to get out of bed. I’m introverted but very social. I need me time to recharge as socialising does drain me of energy but I need to connect intellectually with people in person just as badly. I don’t need dozens of friends, just a handful of people I connect and share interests with and can see semi-regularly. I’ve got two of those. All three of us have demanding schedules and neither of them share my more active or public interests so I end up paddleboarding and going for beer alone or not at all. It sucks. I’m lonely hence meeting people.
I’m getting nowhere. I’m meeting lots of people……. but they all just want to fuck me. That goes one of two ways. We either have sex and they never speak to me again OR we don’t have sex and they never speak to me again. The only people who don’t seem to run away from me are the ones who I’m employed by or am paid to provide with a service. As long as they’re benefiting from my ability to impart knowledge and understanding they stick around. Much like sex though, soon as that stops I’m alone.
In an act of desperation and loneliness and insecurity I called up this dude whose company I had enjoyed historically but I’d had to cut off because he was too pushy while I was involved with an insecure manbaby. He was, obvs, super pumped to hear from me and invited me out. At least SOMEONE wanted to hang out with me.
We texted back and forth while we were trying to find a time slot we could meet up. Everything was good. We almost managed to meet up one night we were both out. I wasn’t surprised when he said he was pretty drunk and wasn’t safe to drive to my place. I live in a weird part of Vancouver difficult to access by public transit so I totally get asking for a rain check.
We kept texting and a couple days later out of the blue he sends me “I’m chickening out, don’t have time for a gf, can’t date you but would still love to hang out”. I was confused. I…. didn’t know we’d been dating (or pre-dating because we haven’t hung out yet) so I was pretty dafuq? I was more concerned about what had caused him to have the little freak out that resulted in the text though so I called him and asked what the hell had just happened and told him everything was OK and he didn’t need to apologise. I know he’s busy as hell. We both are. I hadn’t even known he’d had dating in mind. I told him to take it easy and we’d hang out when he had time. He said he’d text me tomorrow. It’s all good. Weird bit of misunderstanding there but whatever. Things are fine.
And then he stopped responding to texts. I backed off, gave it a few days before messaging him “Not going to take up any of your time, know you’re busy, just please let me know you’re alright”. It’s fine if he doesn’t have time/want to talk to me but I deserve to know he’s OK. He responds almost instantly, still wants to hang out, asks how I’m doing, says he’s been with a friend in hospital for several days, asks if I want to get together on Sunday evening.That’s a pretty good excuse for silence and Sunday evening sounds great.
We text back and forth on Saturday, confirm for Sunday. Sunday comes. I don’t hear from him. It’s Sunday evening. Was I supposed to contact him ahead of time? I message him “I guess we’re rescheduling?” Don’t hear from him for the rest of the evening and before going to sleep send him “I hope you’re OK”.
I am exhausted with people. My self-esteem is non-existent. My mood is reverting to hopelessness and despondency. I feel like I’ve made no progress since June, just put on a few bandaids and otherwise become accustomed to the pain from the harm being involved with that last asshole did to me. He’s creeping back into my thoughts more and more and bringing all the awful things he made me feel about myself with him. That worthlessness he brought out in me is very much present again.
So it’s back to the shrink for me. Maybe they can tell me why no one likes being around me.
My stepbrother was sort of an asshole to my cats (they did have REALLY aggressive, demanding personalities so they weren’t the best for someone who was unsure about cats to be introduced to cats by) and now he’s fucking ridiculous in love with his girlfriend’s cat Talullah. She’s not even a nice kitty! She is hilarious and super cute and a cat. I like affectionate cuddlebug cats is all. She’s a dumb kitty but boy is she entertaining.
Hope you are well..feeling passable marinerachel. If you were feeling better you’d never have emo-posted, so…I hope for at least that.
Me, I haven’t eaten properly in days. Or much of anything but crisps in days. Trying to keep my head together to go to supermarket cafe once the lunch items open. It’s not like I don’t have food in the house. I do. Even soups but..so far failure to eat is happening, so..hoping meal prepared by someone else will boost me enough I can do more.
Maybe it’s not about you. Occassionally there are just periods of our lives where what we encounter are mercenary types who are on the lookout for our presence, parts or persona and when thus satisfied wander away. Says little about you, more about them. Just some bad luck in meeting them is all.
I know t must suck to hear – yet you’re doing the right thing! Go out, be active, do as you do. It’s worked to get you three good friends, it’ll get you some more. Slowly, yet surely.
Besides, with how much of a terrible clusterfuck your last thing was – judging just from views here – some long time to recover will happen. Hang in there! You’re cool enough and good enough and at some point the swarm of people who aren’t for you will cease 🙂
Yes, feeling beter now and…hmmm….not like eating so heading out to eat anyhow cos I don’t want to end up hospitalised again The fact I feel better dosen’t mean I don’t need food!
All I can offer is hugs, marinerachel. I’ve never been in that situation so really haven’t any ideas or anything useful to say.
Right. Scampi, chips and peas with mayo salt and vinegar eaten. Energy! I haz it! (Or at least a little more than before) Bought a couple of beef Diane/stroganoff ready meals to keep this going, more fruit juice and two big puts of yoghurt! We can do this! (Can’t we?) Also, marinerachel..I like being alone, and my most frequantly seen meatspace friend I see 4 times a year. Maybe. Guess why I’m posting here so much.
@marinerachael
Building social groups can be pretty hard … and to be honest, I have made the majority of my friends in the process of trying to do something else … so I don’t have advice beyond the stuff you are already doing in terms of meeting people, going out and being active.
Also, it is very common that events (in your case, meeting people who aren’t interested in being your friend) occur in clusters rather than evenly spaced out, just from from a statistical standpoint. So, you can be doing all the right things, and be an awesome person, and end up meeting a bunch of people who don’t want to be friends with you, not because of anything to do with you, but just because the universe is random.
@gilshalos
::waves cheerleading pompoms::
@Al3H Big glittery lavender pompoms ? 🙂
@gilshalos
Off topic, how is your post-referendum sadness-level? My boyfriend has moved through the sadness and through to the other side ‘Angered, excited activism and funding Common Weal’. He’s mostly been a bit quiet about the sad part, and even though I am (obviously) a pro-Indy ally and I am very unhappy with the result and the dirty tricks throughout, as an Australian I feel like I am probably not really getting what he is going through.
How are other Yessers feeling now?
Lousy. There was a lot of screaming. And avoiding news to stop screaming. If the Tory/Labour/LibDems keep their last minute promises, it will be better but…I don’t believe them yet. They lied in the last referendum. They lied in this one to get pensioners scared out of their wits. And the LibDems lied about their ideals and betrayed them when they took some power. So yes. Screaming a lot. Might be better to check with someone with less mental issues though.
I think my mind is trying to cheer me uip. It keeps broadcasting the @manhmnah’ song from the muppets at me.
Nooooo.
Judging on the number of nightmares I’ve been having lately, it looks like there is still YET MORE horrible memories to come up. I’ve already gotten another molestation bubble; I’m still hoping it’s not real, even though at this point it doesn’t really make any functional difference.
Uuuuugh I am so fucking sick of being fucking rapemeat. So fucking sick of every fucking major trauma being rape. So fucking sick of our brain having to hide all this and then vomit it up in long spurts.
I want to spend my energy doing FUN THINGS. Writing. Drawing. Banging my husband. Instead, it’s constantly being devoured with, “OH HEY GUESS WHAT MORE RAPE.”
Fuck my family, fuck DID, fuck rape, and may it all burn in hell forever, covered in salt and piss.
I am so sorry LBT. My mnd is so fucked up, and I was never abused at all. It must be so much worse. Doctors keep suggesting I was abused and when it hasn’t happened you think, yes, they’ll be more sympathetic. But it actualy hapening ? Oh God. Goddess. I can’t imagine it and it would be so horrible and I am so sorry.
Re-reads that. I never said I was abused. Cos i never was, and even when it kept being suggested, I knew genuinely abused people had it worse and never claimed it. JUst realiserd that what I said suggested that I had.