I had just finished work, so I couldn’t skip a few metres down my driveway and have a look-see. The mystery tucked away in my mail box meant for a terrible drive home. I rocked back and forth in my seat, wailing and attempting Sherlock-esque deductions. I scrutinised that one singular text, who its sender could be, and what that exclamation mark meant and WHY AREN’T THEY REPLYING TO MY TEXT ASKING WHO THEY ARE.

I also got Subway, which it was pretty sweet.

Lo! The mail box revealed a note attached to a wee chocolate owl. The owl found its home in my belly, but the note I keep here on my wall because it makes me smile.

(lol dolls!)

“THEN HOW COME THERE ARE TWO NOTES, HUH”

That is because I am a liar. The truth is that this has actually been happening over the last few weeks, and I am just a lazy blogger. In fact, a third note was delivered after I took the above photo. HOW SPECIAL AM I. Every time there’d be a text from the same unknown number, saying “Mailbox!”. That’s all. Not one hint as to their identity!

Last week my chocolate was a green frog. :3

Maybe one day they’ll betray me and deliver anthrax and bombs instead of cute notes and chocolate. In spite of that, I have to admit going to such lengths to assassinate me is so flattering that I don’t mind. It’s rather sweet of them~

Decide that I have now gone halfway. Pull off to side of road. Put feet on ground. Briefly fear that legs may not let me stand up as they’re now made of jelly.

Stare down road and watch the setting sun sink behind mountains. Wonder what superpowers I had as a kid that made biking around the farm so effortless. Is this what I get for getting taller, older, and addicted to the internet. (Yes.)

Turn around. Struggle my way home again, occasionally stopping because whoops my thighs have caught on fire. Oh no, wait, just unfit. Hope neighbours aren’t peeking out their windows and laughing at the cute fat girl on her retro bike.

Walk up driveway because it’s a gentle slope upwards this time and NOPE NOPE NOPE. Stagger inside on wobbly legs. Phew.

(I’m quite in love with my new bike.)

• The easter bunny left an origami surprise outside my door on Good Friday. :3 I still have not eaten its contents (never have I been so virtuous).
• It’s not even winter yet and rats are already scampering around in the ceiling. While we have that problem every winter (eughhh!), they’ve also gotten into the cows’ winter feed… something I don’t think has ever been a problem before. Looks like Blackberry was actually quite useful. Aww, cat.

• The novelty of having a job hasn’t yet worn off. Plus I got this SWEET BADGE.
• There’s an anonymous person who occasionally googles for my site and includes a message for me to see on my web analytics. It’s so adorable (also wooo secret messages!), and I just want to say: I have no idea who you are, but your support means a lot and I think you’re super cool. Thank you. <3

This post was mostly just to get back into the swing of regular posting, hurrrr. Bye, March! It’s scary we’re about to delve into April already.

After a couple of weeks of discerning whether these new feelings had long-term potential, I started having MAYBE I CAN BE A PRODUCTIVE MEMBER OF SOCIETY thoughts. Remember when I was looking for a job? Not long after shooting off applications, I found the crazies were still too unpredictable. Possibly because I spent the next month in bed. Luckily no one wanted me lololol.

Enter venlafaxine. Just as I began feeling better I received an email from one of those places I applied to, asking whether I was still interested. A little part-time weekend job. HECK YES I’M STILL INTERESTED. If they’d emailed back in October I couldn’t have done it, and I took that as a sign.

Now I was finally going to leave my house for something other than a doctor’s appointment, and it was for something as stressful as a job interview.

I felt pretty confident nonetheless. Then as the day loomed closer, my body felt increasingly sluggish until I couldn’t move. Like a big dead weight was pressing down on me, forcing me back into hiding. How I deal with this sort of anxiety is similar to how I survive depression: oversleeping and video games (IT’S HOW I AVOID FEELING THINGS YEAH HIGH FIVE). It’s impossible to sleep 24 hours in a row but BOY DID I TRY.

Worry not – even though I discovered new nervous habits, the interview went swimmingly and I’m a librarian assistant now. :3 And pssst, I didn’t make the short list last year because I was only going to be around for a year. Alas, the person they picked only hung around for a couple of months. Hah! By the end of my first shift, my face was pink and I was so sweaty that my armpits felt slippery when I moved my arms. IT WAS SO GROSS. But I was so happy I didn’t care.

In fact, it’s been over a week since then, and I think my first day at work is officially my new Best Day Ever. Maybe I really am going to be okay this time? I’d like that.

While the vet listened for her heart to stop beating, she noted that it was surprisingly strong and if not for the tumour Blackberry would have lived a long time. Then quietly, “She’s gone’, and I saw all colour and light had vanished from my cat’s eyes.

We buried her in the vast wasteland of weeds and stones surrounding our house. One day we will get around to prettifying the place, and when that happens the eventual garden is going to be planned around her, with blossom trees, catnip, and bird baths. Mum talks about teasing my poor dead cat, but I secretly think we need to start making amends to the local bird population.

I never noticed until now how often I looked around for her out of habit. If I notice something small and dark on my bed, love swirls inside my chest only for me to look again and realise it’s just some clothes. When I get out of the shower I automatically check to see if my door has been cracked open by Blackberry pushing her way into my room while I was gone. At night, part of my attention still seeks out little noises that might hint at a cat that wants to come inside.

She was pretty important to me. It’s only now that she’s not here that I’ve realised just how much – when I didn’t have the energy to maintain friendships she was my buddy in her perfectly low maintenance sort of way.

Apart from a lot of ugly crying when they put her down, I’ve been more or less okay with it (DOES THIS MAKE ME A BAD PERSON). Rather, I only feel really lucky and happy that she chose us as her family, and I know that because of how great she was I’m going to love the hell out of lots more cats. It’s in honour of her and all the other cats I’ve loved that I will stay a cat lady 5ever.

GO HUG YOUR PETS OK

Turned up at 1pm without having slept the day before. Managed to stay normal during the hour and a half session. Filled in questionaires with silly names like ZUNG (I do not have bipolar, anxiety or ADD, but I do have depression and social anxiety. Wow!). My psychiatrist is a small old man with a soft voice, and he was surprised that I’d only been on antidepressants of the SSRI variety. I am now on a tricyclic called dothiepin. I take six pretty red capsules every day and I feel badass downing them in one gulp every morning.

…Only they don’t work, and dothiepin makes me a horribly grouchy person to be around.

Beloved GP has balked at the above dosage, saying something like HALVE THAT NO WONDER YOU FEEL LIKE CRAP. Incidentally, in the past couple of hours I have been feeling better than I have in days. I still need to avoid my family and I occasionally totter on the verge of tears bUT OH MY GOD I AM FEELING BETTER IT’S A MIRACLE.

Update: It’s been a few hours since publishing this post, but I’ve been feeling increasingly normal with every hour. In fact, it is 6.46am on Christmas morning and I feel great~! PERFECT TIMING. My doctor is a genius.

Blackberry went to the vet (again)

The steroid injection made her appear healthier again. No more snoring or snuffling! After taking lots of pictures and making lots of videos, we decided to at least confirm her lumpy nose’s tumour-y nature before putting her down. The injection had also worked so well that we were prepared to keep giving it to her every couple of weeks – it’d probably give her a few extra months, rather than the few weeks we thought we had.

But remember how we first went to the vet thinking it was an innocent infection? A couple of days after that injection had been administered, discharge started oozing from her nose. Our vet is excited about this development – it might just be an infection after all (PLEASEEEE). Well. That, or a secondary infection that came about because steroids also lower a kitty immune systems (IT’S NOT ALLOWD TO BE THIS ONE). She was given another steroid injection and also anti-biotics. We will see what happens.

Yes.

Writing is hard when you’re a crazy person, so here endeth a quick update post. Have a very happy Christmas tomorrow! ♥

The bumpy nose went down, but the snuffles and snoring continued. In the last couple of days one eye started getting weepy and that creepy third eyelid wouldn’t go down. To the vet!

Without a fight we placed her in a green cage. In the car she tried meowing her distress at an impressive 0.5 decibels. A good attempt for her! She’d also open her mouth to breathe because she was so stressed. Fears about her hyperventilating and fainting aside, she looked like a hissing snake and I didn’t know whether this was funny or not.

The vet noted there was no discharge, her nose is still a little swollen, and one nostril just doesn’t work. When she prodded around one eye it wouldn’t squidge back into her skull like the other would. She’s got a tumour.

Oh.

Then followed a steroids injection to take down the swelling for the next few weeks. She hated it and yelped and – despite being limp with fear – tried wriggling away to the point where the vet needed a nurse to wrestle her down to the table. She also panicked when the thermometer went up her butt (OH MY GOD MY POOR BABY).

At home she devoured all the cat snacks I gave her (lol dat stress eater ♥), and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on my bedroom floor, looking out the window. I’m glad she’s forgiven us so easily.

We’re not going to run her through diagnostics to see what kind of cancer it is. No chemo. No regular injections or tablets to make it “easier” for her either, because it’ll cause more stress than good – the last time I tried forcing a worming tablet down her throat, she avoided me afterwards and it was awkward between us for hours. There’s no way in fuck that I’m dragging out her life, though. I don’t want to call it too quickly, but I don’t want her to suffer even the tiniest bit. She probably has a killer headache as it is.

Other related things

• The vet thought this thirteen year old cat looked about six or seven. I ALWAYS SAID SHE LOOKED GOOD FOR HER AGE. Fuck yes, you good lookin’ cat.
• Now I can feed her all the cat snacks I damn well like. #YOLO, my dear kitten.
• As we toook her back to the car I thought, “WHAT AM I EVEN GOING TO BLOG ABOUT NOW.” Srsly, 50% of the blog is about my cat.
• And what am I supposed to smother with my love, now??
• We’re not getting a replacement cat because my dad hates cats. I don’t know how I could be related to him. We wouldn’t have ever had cats if my granddad hadn’t turned up one day with two kittens because HIS GRANDCHILDREN ARE HAVING CATS, DAMMIT.
• I’ve noticed depression sucks a lot more than the “lol your cat gon’ die” sads. So that’s… good? It’s nothing I can’t handle, at least.
• I might have taken advantage of today to make Mum give me Coke. HAH.
• WHERE ARE WE EVEN GOING TO BURY HER. WE DON’T HAVE A GARDEN. NOT EVEN A LAWN. WE JUST HAVE A WASTELAND OF DEAD WEEDS.
• I need to make a video of her walking because her bloomers are precious.
• I made a video a couple of nights ago of her snoring, and I was going to upload it to the blog and be like lol you guise she’s so adorbs. That seems so fucking morbid now – you know what’s causing that adorable snore? HER INEVITABLE DEMISE. STOP MAKING JOKES GOSH THIS IS SERIOUS.
• I have no tissue box, so instead I sniffle into my roll of toilet paper whenever I look over my shoulder at Blackberry. I am going to miss her, but it’ll be okay. I am very, very glad that I have known her and that we rescued her all those years ago.

Right. Okay.

But I’m not going back until my health is officially okay. Remember, I’ve got student loans from the last two years with nothing to show for it. Ees not good!

Somewhat related: I was in a slump last November. Could barely think or move. Could tolerate that emotional crappiness however. Medical science is godly and citalopram shushed the mean voice that was all, “You only have enough rent for one more week? LOL YOU SHOULD KILL YOURSELF.“, because whaaaaaaat how is that even reasonable. It helps that I’ve realised it’s always a passing thing, too. My craziness is one that fluctuates! If I just wait it out, eventually it comes right for a while.

If I got just a little better, though, I could start volunteering. Possibly work one shift a week, too. I’d see a counsellor fortnightly just to prod my head and make sure everything is ticking as it should be. Maybe by second semester I could go back to university. AGHK it’d be so GOOD to start edging myself towards self-sufficiency! Last night I found the most perfect place for next year, too. Impractical with its wooden floorboards and tall ceilings, it’s gorgeous and everything that I’ve ever fantasised about living in – just a humble one-bedroom apartment with a loft bed, aww yeaaah. I need to hurry up and get normal so I can live there.

My appointment is tomorrow. I don’t want to say ~all of my dreams~ are hanging on this (EVEN THOUGH THEY KIND OF ARE) but I do need everyone crossing their fingers for me!

I am too greedy, too horrible at buying presents.

It’s a bonus of being a shut-in, actually: “Thank God I’m not close friends with X anymore, otherwise I’d have to buy a present.” I can’t escape my family though. If only they were just as incompetent when it came to presents!

Example: My sister is the nicest best person the planet. She’s considerate, cleans the bathroom on a whim, fantastic at cooking. Plus, she can actually help out on the farm (that is, beyond standing in gateways to block cows like I do) so in addition to the baking thing she’s naturally Dad’s favourite. She’s my favourite, too. PLUS SHE’S REALLY CUTE. SO CUTE THAT FRIENDS ARE SURPRISED AT HER CUTENESS WHEN THEY MEET HER. Oh my GOD.

Sister is the opposite of me. She puts me to shame.

It’s cool though. I might be the disappointment of a daughter, incapacitated and lazy, but at least I’m ~secure enough in myself~ that I’m not jealous (I realise this sort of thing happens between siblings!). Nay! In fact, I’m okay with being objectively the ugly one; through the haze of my unjustifiably huge ego I don’t even notice.

Naturally when it comes to presents, this being of pure light makes the rest of us look bad. And if there wasn’t enough pressure, she’s exceptionally talented at buying The Best Presents … and lots of them.

As I found my way onto ModCloth tonight, I decided that YES I WILL LOOK FOR PRESENTS FOR BELOVED LITTLE SISTER, I WILL. I WILL TRY TO BE AN ADEQUATE SISTER. Ah, ModCloth. Surely they’d come through for me? The site with beautiful things to decorate an apartment/gorgeous sister? Was there anything at all to be found for her? Nope. I did, however, find a billion things for myself, because I am one greedy motherfucker.

• Grace Against Time Wall Clock
• Mew and Me Mug set
• Owl Illuminate the Way Lights
• Cat Eyeglasses Mug
• Go Brush Your Tree-th Toothbrush Holder

When in doubt? Cute cat, bird or owl motifs (I AM A CLICHE HIPSTER). Not that I should be telling you any of this, because I deserve none of it. Why do I have to be so easy to buy for, whyyyyyy.

The power of Photoshop

Behold! Doll no longer looks soaked in urine.

I’ve wanted to play violin since I was 11, but was forbidden because Mum was convinced I’d suck at it and refused to listen to the screeching wails I’d draw out from one. I’ve always felt like I’ve missed out on learning something really valuable, not learning an instrument. It’s the same for piano, too. I remember Googling for teachers early last year and getting too scared to contact one, for reasons I don’t remember. Undoubtedly ones anyone else would shrug off lolol.

…Wow, I’m a braver person nowadays! Can we take a moment to admire my ~personal growth and development~. All right. Moving on!

Can we talk about her eyes?

I impulsively added 12mm ED #11s to a nine9style order for kicks. I was inspired by this photo, which incidentally is the one that made me first investigate BJDs: it looked so alive …albeit in a surreal, creepy way. The purple eyes I’d planned were okay, but these ones are just so strikingly BETTER. She looks sharper in these than in a dreamy, shimmery lilac, and even if they are unnerving, I can’t stop looking at them! Plus these eyes arrived back when I was playing Ib, the protagonist of which has red eyes and brown hair. The similarities! I took it as a sign.

When is she coming back from Caroline? I don’t know. But here’s a progress photo I was sent a while back:

Hurry home, wee dolly.