January 30th, 2001

Chalkboard

(no subject)

Hi Everybody,

I am so hung over, sleep wise. I noticed that my little rattie (or is it ratty, I never know) wasn't doing so well last night so I had to take her to the emergency vet. It's weird being out that late in LA. Streets that are normally congested with traffic and nearly deserted and the cops park and look like they've run out of things to do.

I'm on my way out now to take her to the regular vet, who specializes in rattie medicine so he can tell me what we can do. It seems like she has a herniated colon or something really not good going on down there. Bog huge sigh. Poor sweet little rat. I got her because she was missing an eye. I'm a sucker for pet pals without eyes. I almost picked up a cat, at the shelter in San Diego with Beau, because she was missing an eye. Unfortunately there were all kinds of rules and we couldn't take her with us for three more days at least, but it worked out okay because she was part of some sort of program that guaranteed her being placed as opposed to murdered by the shelter killers. I swear I can't wait for us to become another no kill state. That and adoption rights are my big political focus right now.

I'm adopted. I think some of you must know that by now. I'm really thrilled about the measure that was passed in Oregon giving adoptees the right to have their original birth certificates. It probably won't do me any good if I ever get mine, because my birth mother is incredibly deceptive and selfish and probably wouldn't have put down my father's name since she is determined to keep this information from me. She has told so many different lies to so many people, it kills me how easily she lies to her daughter, my sister, and how willing she is to accept those lies. It's a good lie too. She told her that she was raped and doesn't know who my father is. So of course, my sister, blindly accepts this truth, and then why would she want to have anything to do with me, rape sister? How convenient for Loretta, my birth mother. I don't know if my other sister and brother know anything about me. The last I heard from my birth mother was lovingly timed to arrive on my birthday last year, a sweet letter saying, "You are the product of a rape. Be grateful for the family you were given and leave mine alone!" Lovely isn't she? Won't even give me any kind of family health history or the tiniest bit of information about my birth father or how I was conceived. Although according to my records in Sacramento, what little I could get, she told them a whole different story. Then she told my sister I was lying about this. I really hate her at this point. I don't understand how I could be the daughter of such a cold heartless person.

God what got me started on this? Oh I know, there's an article in Rolling Stone magazine I read last night. It stirred this all up for me, although it's always there, lurking just under my consciousness. Argh, off to the vet.

Hugs,
Jacqui
Chalkboard

(no subject)

I'm watching It's a Girl Thing. I think this is the last episode, and I missed whatever others there were but I love these actors, so I wanted to see it. TV. Anesthesia. TV-anesthesia. I'm happy to see Mia Farrow. Oh look it's Linda Hamilton, hmmm, were they casting women who've been screwed over by famous men? That's kind of a cool idea.

Nothing against the sweetheart men who read my journal, but I like to see guy-jerks getting their payback. This is fun, watching this cheating shitheel squirm. I'm so much more in favor of honesty despite pain, and I'd rather opt for a polyamorous relationship, than be with a cowardly lying selfish sneak. I was a cowardly lying selfish sneak once and it sucked, it hurt everyone, it was so incredibly painful all around.

This is so great; Lynn Whitfield setting up her cheating spouse to think she's having an affair, and making him think he's nuts by denying it so convincingly. Gee where have I seen anything like that before? "Vengeance is ours sayeth the girls." OMG, now that he's been caught he's getting down on his knees in the creepiest way. "Here's what you're gonna do, you're gonna go home, you're gonna pack your shit. You're gonna go check into a hotel...and in the morning you'll go to the post office and fill out a change of address card. Do us all a favor Paul, until you get your shit together, just stay away from women. Okay that's it, I've done it. You can get up now, and you can leave. Bye bye."

"Unfortunately the greater the pain the harder the recovery." The Psychiatrist

"I can't help it, I love sex! I love genitalia! I really love genitalia, and the tongue, I think the tongue is God's gift to mankind! Yeah I think of other things, I think about breasts." A Sex Addicted Patient

Okay now Camrhyn Manheim has come and gone and is playing a deeply disturbed maniac patient with a gun and there's a gorgeous model with a hyper intelligent but kind of ugly personality to go with it. I'm liking the writing. I have got to get a copy of this script so I can memorize some of these parts to use for a monologue. Oh God I want to work.


Mmmmm, a nice white jocko Steiff for me to buy. Isn't he cute? I love Steiff. Yup. My finances might be looking up just slightly. I've been so worried about this loan problem that's been hanging over me, but hopefully these guys

Well, little Miss Sister Rattie (did I tell you the other rattie turned out to be a boy, which would make him brother rattie I suppose) has a herniated colon and she's too tiny for surgery, so it looks like I'm going to be her human potty assist for quite some time. We'll recheck her in a month but for now she'll be eating her regular diet, plus bran and mineral oil, then I'll be soaking her little bottom and playing Mama rat. I don't mind, I just worry I'll wind up falling deeper in love with her, and since she already has two big strikes against her at such a young age, I'll get my heart broken when she leaves. *Sigh* Rat loving can be so hard. I wonder what the record is, three years, four years? I've never known anyone who had a rat-pal for that long. My little gal with the fatty tumor under her arm has been with me for the longest, I think it's almost three years now, almost, that'll be a record for me.

Being at the vet was a kind of weird experience. There was this friendly unusual couple, a sort of mother and son team. She was eccentric looking, wearing a funny coat over a kind of housedress held together with a safety pin. I thought he was handsome because he was kind of unique looking and reminded me a lot of Ralph Fines, (I can't remember how he spells his name, I remember how to pronounce it though, like safe, I love him). They were there with two small curly white dogs. They were so friendly to our cat Buki and the rats.

Later, after we came out from having seen the vet, we ran into them again in the pay-the-huge-fee line. I sat next to the mother, who turned out to be cut from the same cloth as my mother, because as soon as I complimented her son/nephew/whatever-he-was by saying he reminded me of an actor, she went off. "He's not remotely like any of those [and a big sneer here] mmmmovie people!" Ding. LA Country Club. Ding. Beach Club. Ding. Old money Los Angeles. Ding. Went to Marymount. Ding. Thinks she's better than other people. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Nevertheless I liked her, she jumped out of a plane in the 1940s, and for a gal back then, coming from a background I understand all too well, that had to take guts.

Okay now I'm thinking the writing is a little bit predictable and cheesy. Not all of it, but some of it. You can't wrap up the whole psycho scene with a plastic gun and the easy forgiveness of the psychiatrist. That woman was so unstable there's no way they would just let her walk out after that. Corny prologue. *More sighs* Have you ever shared a room with three ferrets, eight rats and a chinchilla? It's odorific.