My friend Curly Girl is sitting on my arms making it pretty hard to type here, but she's just so damned sweet and gentle, I can't bear to push her aside.
I love the rain. When I left Scott's house last night I stopped for a moment and took pictures of the traffic through my rainy windshield. Then I went shopping at Target, weeee, and had dinner by myself at this great old Mexican restaurant and read a book. Fun. I have to go find that rain community so I can share these rain pictures -- I made them for them.
I've been isolating again, avoiding the phones and my e-mail, sigh. If only the tough love of ex-journal friends here could fix this for me, if only it were that easy; "Just do it!" Yep, right, no problem, here we go. I just get like this sometimes I don't know if it's a hallmark of depression, anxiety, or just a natural ebb and flow. Sometimes I hate writing journal entries because I'm so candid about my various neuroses while at the same time wanting to be liked, and definitely not wanting to be judged. I learned long ago to try not to judge other people unless I've been in their precise circumstances. Of course I fail at this again and again, but I do truly try to be empathic, understanding, and accepting of everyone's foibles.
I have been trying to chip away at the stress mountain today. Little by little I've been moving it out of the way. I got the cats to the vet and got them all on a new health plan -- some of them have colds and we have to be super vigilant about this so it won't take a dangerous turn for the worse. I called Buki's dermatologist and rescheduled his appointment. I got him the expensive medicine he needs. I spoke with my sweet therapist. I did everything I could to clobber some people who had been taking advantage of me, necessitating over an hour's worth of e-mailing and form filling. I spoke with my Mom and her secretary about the loan and the bills we are going to pay. I hate dealing with my Mom and Tina in any way relating to money because they can be so relentlessly crazy making and shaming. I'll finish off my latest scarf and work a bit more on my Christmas/Holiday cards before I go to bed tonight. I spoke with my oldest friend. I played around with these rain images and I made my December Live Journal Friend's cyber card. Now I just have to run around and catch all of the people whose birthday's I've missed so far.
I'm waiting for my kitty Zazu to come out from under the bed so I can give her Clavamox, Flagil, and Interferon. She knows this which is the reason for her being under the bed in the first place. She's so smart, she'll wait 'till I'm deep into something else and have forgotten the medicine before she'll sneak back out. I have to play a kind of stealthy Zen mind game with the cats when it comes to giving them medicine. I swear this will sound nuts to anyone who doesn't live as closely with their cats as we do, but I find that if I clear my mind of all thoughts relating to whatever unpleasant thing I'm going to do to them -- say kicking them out of my room when they want to be in here, or giving them a pill -- and replace these thoughts with something attractive like a big stinky can of tuna, I can just scoop them right up. I am totally convinced that they communicate beyond the known senses and use a kind of telepathy. Without making a sound I can communicate with them using projected imagery and feelings. Of course because cats are notoriously independent and stubborn this would be super hard to prove. Okay now you can laugh, go on let it all out you non-feline-having unbelievers, guffaw now, but you'll see later.
I had fun watching TV yesterday. At Scott's I watched the first two episodes of the Richard Branson rebel billionaire series and was surprised that I liked it so much. Although I don't know what being able to climb a rope ladder to the top of a hot air balloon to have tea with the boss really means in terms of being able to run the Virgin empire, and frankly I'm a wee bit skeptical of these shows anyway. I seriously doubt Richard Branson is going to turn over his billion dollar empire to some kid who wins one of these extreme sport challenges. I'm not even sure if Trump really lets his "apprentices" do too much without tremendous supervision.
Something else that I've been noticing, and not liking about reality shows, is that while I am always rooting for the lone surviving black woman, they are always trying to portray her as nuts. Do you think they pick women who are feisty and unreasonable, or are they just editing them to seem this way? I mean look at the last two seasons of The Apprentice, America's Top Model and now this. I'm sure if I watched more of these shows we could find more examples of this, but then again maybe I'm just being an overly sensitive Marymount girl.
When I came home last night I watched two and a half episodes of Huff, the Hank Azaria psychiatrist show, on Showtime. I realllly like it. Well, I love anything dealing with psychotherapy.
Speaking of psychotherapy did I mention that I cornered Bob Newhart at a Christmas part for the Bel Air Garden Club and got to compliment him and chat with him for a while? I've met him several times before but this time he was kind of stuck, heh, heh. I introduced him to Atra but she didn't have a clue who he was. He looked so sad but he always does and that wouldn't be a first for a talented comedian, depression tends to kind of go hand in hand with comedy.
Today I watched a little bit of Starting Over, which I really like and wish I could be on. I would so love to have all of that help and support. Okay segue while I beam behave-yourself-thoughts at my kitties who are fighting to see if it will work. Nope, experiment failed.
Okay, I should get going because the Christmas tree people are going to be arriving with our tree any minute now and I've got work to do.
Big Happy Holiday Hugs,