thedisappearingcat: (malaise)
We had to go to the mainland to get this year's heating assistance. This required rounding up all our IDs, paperwork, etc.
  • I haven't seen my Social Security card since last year's appointment.
  • I almost couldn't get my seat belt on because I'm so big.
  • I forgot my wallet.
  • We got the time wrong, and showed up at 11:00 instead of 1:10 then had to wait. 
  • Innoq didn't have the correct pay stubs.
  • We have just fifteen days to get our shit together or we're out of luck this year.
  • This involves driving over 200 miles to get a new Social Security card.
  • Which we can't do for a week, because that's how long it will take us to arrange a ride.
  • And the card has to be mailed, which might take longer than a week.
  • Which will mean no heating assistance this year.
  • Which will fuck our already precarious finances right in the ear.
And I'm definitely in a slump. I keep hitching my wagon to somebody else's star only to find out their "star" is a street lamp.
  • I figured if I did MyFitnessPal with Innoq we could keep each other motivated and accountable. But he doesn't do it anymore because logging food is tedious. Now I feel abandoned, like I'm struggling alone and flailing. I don't like to go to MyFitnessPal now because I see he hasn't been logging in and it bums me even more than my own failure. But this is my goddamn body. It's one thing to need support, another to fail because someone else quits.
  • I figured if I ordered my lennán to write for 20 minutes a day -- no less, and only more if he chooses -- I'd feel like a hypocrite for not writing and get back on the ball. But there have been quite a few times when I ordered him to, and he did, and I couldn't. And more times when he wasn't in the right mental/emotional state and I gave him leeway, and I didn't write either. As much as I love feeling that my wonderful, dangerous pet is also my writing partner, I shouldn't depend on him to that degree. I need to figure out what my deal is and fix it for myself. (Note: You're not off the hook, Drake. Drop and give me twenty.)
Working with Black this go-around is evidently kicking up a lot of shit. And I have to face the fact that not all of it is due to illness and poverty. Some of it is on me.

thedisappearingcat: (domesticity)
♥ Innoq got a ride to the store, because we got our foodstamps today. An hour after he left he called me to ask if I had the EBT card. I did. *facepalm* So back he came, and had to shop at a closer but slightly pricier store because the guy who gave him the ride had to do other things. We still got a lot of good food, mostly meats. 
  • Frozen Chinese for lunch.
  • Apple & Sage porkchops for dinner.
  • I scrubbed and reorganized the fridge while he was out.
♥ It's emergency laundry day, because our clothes are standing up by themselves. (Now if only they could wash themselves.)
  • Innoq is taking care of the laundry.
  • I guess that obliges me to do at least some of the dishes.
  • Damn it.
♥ I've found some upbeat girly-pop secular holiday tunes. It's sickly cheerful and I'm loving it.
  • Although if I hear one more version of "Last Christmas" I may show y'all some other uses for mistletoe...
  • And if it plays Justin Beiber ever again I may have to take even sterner measures.
♥ I finally wrote up some of my adventures in Fallen London. Hopefully that shook the cobwebs loose.

♥ I'm tuckering out earlier and earlier in the day. I don't like this at all. I'm nocturnal, dammit. But here it is just 10:00 pm and I'd fall over sideways out of this chair if it didn't have arms.
  • This is particularly obnoxious because I'm on the East Coast, and many of my online friends and lovers are further inland or on the West Coast, so later at night is my only chance to talk to them.
  • But I do have to go somewhere tomorrow morning, so bed relatively early isn't such a bad idea.

GPOY

Dec. 10th, 2013 10:51 am
thedisappearingcat: (malaise)
 
thedisappearingcat: (Eek!)
One of the reasons I got a DW journal was the lack of ads.
thedisappearingcat: Take three... (ToTT)
This will be updated and expanded as I go along. Black's will probably be the longest, because reasons.



Black

♬ Adam Lambert♬ Avril Lavigne♬ Delta Rae♬ Gaia Consort♬ Kelly Clarkson♬ Loreena McKennitt♬ S.J. Tucker♬ Wendy Rule
thedisappearingcat: (computer)
Now two people whose Tumblrs I follow and enjoy are going at each other like rabid badgers over whether astral projection is essential to witchcraft. Things have descended to name-calling and snide personal remarks.

Pass the whiskey.

Edit: Now they've gone off the original topic and are snarking at each other about everything. If they don't cut the canards by midnight I'm unfollowing them both. 
thedisappearingcat: (computer)
What's amusing/confusing me right now is that everyone still seems to be entertaining the delusion that there is a community.

I'm sorry, y'all. There isn't -- much as I might wish otherwise. We're a collective of individuals with sometimes violently different opinions, some of whom hive off into cliques. 

It's high school on the internet, and the only thing we really have in common is that we all use Tumblr.
thedisappearingcat: (domesticity)
♥ Meow at husband, receive bacon. Not a bad life.

♥ It's 39 degrees but it feels a whole lot colder. I'm not ecstatic about the idea of standing in line at the food pantry, all of us poor folks huddled together like chickens. My friend who just had knee replacement surgery is going to be in agony. If we didn't need the food there wouldn't be any way in hell. 
  • Yup, it was cold out there. Innoq held our place in line because he doesn't mind the cold. My friend and I stayed in the car until the door opened and we moved inside.
  • Excellent haul. We were able to get the wherewithal for chicken tacos tonight.

♥ I don't believe in writers block as a Thing in and of itself. It's usually a symptom or a result of another problem or set of problems. I'm trying to figure out what my problem is. It's been a month and I haven't even wanted to write. That's not normal.
  • I've decided to fictionalize my exploits in Fallen London, to shake the cobwebs out of my brain. I did something like this once and it was fun.
  • I'll be posting this on my writing Tumblr on a fairly regular basis. Ideally every day.

♥ I haven't totally abandoned writing, despite this. I've been doing a lot of thinking. I got overwhelmed about "platform" before I calmed down and decided to treat it like everything else in this half-life that I live. I broke it down. What do I want out of this? What's the most spoon-effective way to get it? What isn't going to be so unpleasant that I'd rather roll around in lobster bait? The solution is to better utilize the tools I already use and enjoy. That's Tumblr and Twitter, and eventually a Goodreads author account.
  • I created a dedicated email just for my writing, to keep it separate from my personal stuff and protect my legal name.
  • I created a simple Weebly site as an "About Me" page and for contact info. Later on I'll add information about the projects I'm working on.

♥ I'd always planned on taking a pen name for my writing. This is largely because a) I know what I can do if I've got somebody's actual name and b) I've seen Misery. I'm protective of my name and a lot of details of my lives. (Despite the spew here on DW. Trust me, this is the tip of the iceberg.) I wanted my pseudonym to be Irish, and I wanted to honor my Irish family. What I came up with is Rosalyn Kelly. I love it, and I'm getting excited to see it on the cover of a book. 

♥ My kiddo brought his Spanish grade up from an F to a B in less than two weeks. I'm pleased with him... but why the flunk was he fucking in the first place if he was capable of that? I don't know whether to say "I'm proud of you" or "Oh, you little shit." 
  • I went with "I'm proud of you but please work to your full capacity. It'll save us all aggravation and you from getting in trouble."
  • We told him that, besides our old PS3 (which Innoq mailed to him since we'll be getting the PS4 soon) he won't be getting any Christmas gifts from us because we have no money. And he won't. It's not, technically, a Christmas gift if he doesn't get it until sometime in January. *dimples*
♥ I am very pleased with my lennán tonight. As soon as I have the spoons for it I think I'll write some personalized porn for him.
  • Of course, I'll only post it with his consent.
  • If he consents, his sub gets to read it first because she was a very good naughty girl today.
♥ Well, the Pagan tag just went a'splody. O.O'
  • For the record, I blocked and ignored soloontherocks a long-arsed time ago. 
  • I even put her name in the sugar jar.

Body Talk

Dec. 4th, 2013 07:44 am
thedisappearingcat: (malaise)
Before I start, I want to underline the fact that I'm talking about myself and my own journey. I'm not criticizing anyone else, nor am I handing out advice. I don't particularly want advice, either. Support and encouragement? Hell, yes! I need that. Advice? Not so much, though if I do need it I promise I'll ask. :)

TW: Talk of the dietary and weight-loss aspect of wellness. )

thedisappearingcat: (writing)
It's been almost a month since I've written a goddamn thing.

I failed out of NaNoWriMo because of my health, for the first time in six years. I've always "won" it but at great cost and with almost nothing usable at the end. Plus I'm so stressed and ill during it that I'm not fit to live with. Friends, family, and lovers have begged and bribed me not to do it yet I've done it anyway. Conceding hurt. Conceding that meant giving this disease another piece of myself.

Besides that, I buckled under the pressure of what's expected of an Indie Author for success. Everything I've read about it jumps up and down on the topic of platform. I've got to tweet. I need a nice website. Blogging is essential. I have to e-mail market. I have to get my "brand" out there. All before I even finish and try to sell my first book. Or I'll fail.

Jesus fucking Christ, people. I can barely feed myself and keep the house halfway sanitary most of the time. I'm goddamn chronically ill. The only reason I haven't ended up in the hospital is that the doctors admit they don't know much about CFS and wouldn't know how to treat me. 

And I'm supposed to what?!

So I've been really discouraged and my anxiety has kicked into high gear. I'm ace at not showing it, but those who really know me have noticed I'm not myself. I'm breaking. I don't break. I crack, sometimes, but I don't break. I can't let myself break.

I've got to shove this all aside. I've got to quit freaking out about it. 

I've got to just... write.

Irony:

Dec. 1st, 2013 10:24 am
thedisappearingcat: (Default)
Innoq just expressed his displeasure about sleeping through church by cussing.

Error

Nov. 30th, 2013 04:36 pm
thedisappearingcat: (writing)
 
thedisappearingcat: (together)
When I say I'm a switch I usually mean that I submit to men, dominate women, and negotiate depending on the situation with anyone non-binary. I never wanted to dominate a man. Not long ago the mere suggestion would have gotten a laugh out of me.

My lennán and I, though, had been experimenting with our dynamic. I was more willing to at least try to dominate him from time to time even though I preferred to submit or go at it as lusty equals. It was a delightful challenge to explore that. I thought we had the perfect Balance going on.

Until I realized we didn't. Something was off. That rattled me and I had to draw back a dite and have some thinky-thoughts. It didn't take me long to figure it out.

He's a switch, too. He has a deep need to submit occasionally. But in his household he's the Dom. Nobody could top him... but me.

Well, shit. When I see an imbalance I generally feel like I should set it right. And knowing that he had unfulfilled needs shattered me. I never-ever thought I'd find myself in this situation, never really wanted to be, but here we are negotiating a relationship in which I am his Domme. 

I'm still getting used to the idea. We're wading in slowly and communication between us is a constant flow. Often it comes in handy. I get to punish him if he doesn't rest. (He has RA in his knees, badly.) His lovers who are physically with him are so far willing to cooperate, and I'm glad to have them. 

Now, I admit that last night I wanted to throw it all over my left shoulder with a pinch of salt, drop to my knees in front of him, and rest my cheek on his foot. For him to take charge, fuck me into oblivion, and comfort me while I cried. Instead I stepped back. I'm too afraid to upset our precarious apple cart.

I got through it without sending our new dynamic into a tailspin. I'm okay. And as soon as we're both up for a rumble, fucking each other into oblivion is going to happen.
thedisappearingcat: (Default)
 

Originally posted on Tumblr by spiritusarcanum and I just couldn't resist...
thedisappearingcat: (cat)
In 1998, during a ritual that was supposed to achieve Something Else Altogether, I ended up getting placed under a geis of veracity.  I had the choice to accept or reject this geis and was given time to think about it. I took three days, then accepted. I had no idea what I was getting myself into at the time. Now, knowing what I know and having gone through all that I have, I'd still accept it.

What this means in practical terms is, like the false proverb of George Washington and the cherry tree, I cannot tell a lie. Well, I could, but I'd regret it badly and quickly. Depending on the situation and severity of the transgression I could suffer worse-than-usual illness, loss, bad luck, injury, and that sort of thing if my tongue slips in the wrong kind of way. On the other hand, being mindful of my geis has brought blessings into my life that make it more bearable than it would otherwise be.
 
I can, however, pick and choose my words. I can also just keep my tater trap shut on a matter. Backed into a bad corner, I can and will twist the truth like a Slinky without breaking my geis. I once prided myself in that sort of thing. Words are my stock-in-trade. Being able to be truthful without being completely honest was once a hallmark of my skill.

Once. Over time, having to think about each word that comes out of my mouth and fingertips caused some moral adjustments to be made. I was never actually a liar. My parents wouldn't stand for it. But I'm not without flaws, any more than any other sentient B/being is truly flawless (Christian mythos aside). I'm sure I slipped with "little white lies" to cover my ass on more-or-less the same average as most kids.

I'm a practical kind of critter. I prefer to Get Shit Done and Solve Problems. I don't have patience for philosophy that doesn't serve a concrete end. But thinking about truth and how best to tell it at any given moment segued into thoughts of ethics and honor, respect and responsibility. The way I treat others and handle various situations began to evolve accordingly. From out of having to tell the truth I began to strive to live my life with Honor in one hand and Compassion in the other.

However, this post would turn into a teal deer if I went on about that, so I'll confine it to my relationship with the truth. To sum up:

♥ I just might tell you stories but I won't ever tell you lies.
♥ I will tell the truth as I see it and to the best of my understanding.
♥ I will tell the truth in a way tailored to the hearer's specific preferences and needs.*

* Some people are sensitive and need "the gentle version" while some people would rather be told forthrightly no matter how hurtful the truth might be.


thedisappearingcat: (computer)
 I must have missed a memo. I have no idea what the Doge Dog Meme is. So when y'all start talking like that I'm amused but very bewildered.
thedisappearingcat: (cat)
 My blog is new, and most of y'all are just getting to know me. I can (and do) browse back through y'all's blogs to get up to speed on the wtf but y'all can't with me.

So, because I believe in Balance and fairness, I'm going to make two "random facts about me" posts per day. One will be public, the other will be locked. If there's something ya'll would particularly like me to touch upon you have but to ask.
thedisappearingcat: (computer)
 If I buy extra icon slots, they're permanent!? They don't expire?!

Oh gods and not-gods, please tell me I'm reading that correctly!
thedisappearingcat: (malaise)
I paid hard for pushing myself too much yesterday. I woke up at around 8:00, then got up for about 20 minutes to see Innoq off to work and give him very precise instructions for mailing a package. Then I fucked off back to bed. I didn't get up again until 1:30 in the afternoon. I was flattened. 

I perked up after that. He brought home pasta fagioli, and though I wasn't crazy about it I was grateful for the warmth and nutrients. I didn't do anything the rest of the day. (Well, offline. Online I got into some interesting mischief.)

Tomorrow Innoq and I are going out with a friend we only see once or twice a year. She's well-to-do and loves to take us on adventures, places we'd not be able to go otherwise. We'll be hitting a museum, a bookstore, probably an antique mall, and a nice restaurant. I really look forward to these outings. I wish I had my walker already, so it would be easier and less painful. I'll take things as easy as I can.

On Wednesday I'll be resting as much as I can, too, because on Thursday we have Thanksgiving at a different friend's house. After Thanksgiving I probably won't be good for much of anything for days!
thedisappearingcat: (Irish studies)

I really love finding songs that I know well in English redone as Gaeilge. 

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thedisappearingcat: (Default)
Caitria

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