Tinhuviel Artanis

I trawled through previous posts of LJ friends and tried to post comments as much as possible. I feel like I'm neglecting everyone, not that my involvement means anything. I'm usually very involved on Facebook, because it's more friendly to media and that's what I'm focused on mostly right now. I desperately try to find amusing things in my life right now. I don't think I want to flood other peoples Live Journals with a bunch of useless crap that makes me feel better. If we're friends on Facebook, you know what I mean here.

I was supposed to have an appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday, but when I went, they said my appointment was on December 4th. I took up a couple of hours of Janice's time going there and to the store and post office, which was closed by the time I got there (I trawled through previous posts of LJ friends and tried to post brujah). The first thing I did when I got home was check my appointment card. It says November 28th. I put the card in my purse to show to the receptionist when I go back. I thought I had lost my mind, but it turns out I didn't. I had to call Janice, who had gone to a nearby K-Mart to just roam around whilst I waited to see the doctor, then I started walking up the small road the psychiatrist's office is on. As I walked, I sprained my ankle on the uneven pavement and fell. My ankle started swelling up almost immediately and it hurts like hell today. I can't go to the doctor about it because I've been tagged as a drug seeker after my suicide attempt last November. They wouldn't give me anything for the pain because of that, so I'm taking Ibuprofen, which make flare up my ulcer. If I start vomiting blood, I'm not gonna let anyone know this time. I don't really care. No one is gonna help me anyway.

It's pretty cold here. My heater won't turn on. I have propane for heat. I don't have the money to call the repairman out, so I emailed the Mother Unit to see if she could help me a week ago. She hasn't responded. I'm sure she's tired of my asking her for money. Janice brought down a small electric space heater, but those things use so much electricity, and I can't afford a large electric bill, so I'm using it sparingly only at night. At the moment, I can hardly feel my hands, they're so cold.

My life is shit. I wish I could deal with everything as well as

I've got tons to write about, but I'm gonna write about it when I have my computer and can enhance the post with photographs. Like some sort of unitoothed moron, I left my computer sitting on the couch all packed up to bring with me; yet, I decided to leave it at home for some godawful reason. I've got tales to tell, like the one about Joe on train number 2 (I think). Or my cuddling with a Trans who was incredible kind enough to share his poncho with my cold arse. Or my fantastic, and all too brief visit, with angstzeit in the Windy City.

Traveling across country on train is highly unrecommended by yours truly if you're even remotely disabled, but is highly recommended if you want to meet an endless variety of souls. Yep, much to tell, but the Mother Unit and I have lots to do and none of it involves my favourite pasttime of being an Internet junkie, so that must wait until I get home from Todd's in a week or so.

I'm writing all this from one of the Mother Unit's extra computers whilst she sleeps. After she wakes up, gods know what we'll be up to. One thing I DO KNOW and that, at some point today, our activities will involves my going to a 7-11 and getting a cherry or grape Slurpee. Them's the rules.

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Don't have kids.

Seriously. My maternal grandmother was never big on kids, but ended up having my Mother Unit in spite of that. She eventually left her daughter to be raised by her aunt and uncle, so she could continue to pursue her career in singing. Then the Mother Unit, who was never crazy about kids herself, met and married my father, who wanted kids. Together, they ended up having yours truly.

But it was always Aunt Tudi who expressed that maternal vibe to me, from the moment I was brought home at the age of three days old. Eventually, the Mother Unit asked Aunt Tudi if she would mind caring for me, so she could go back to work. It was a perfect arrangement for them both. When I was six, my parents split up, basically because my father was a controlling asshole more often than could be tolerated by any sane person. So my Mother Unit left him. And she returned to New York City, which was the only place she really knew. The city was a bad place to raise children during this time in the early 70s, so the Mother Unit asked Aunt Tudi if she could leave me with her, after my time in the Father Unit's custoday was an exercise in insanity. He lost it when they divorced, and he showered his venom for the Mother Unit on me, as I was the only one there to listen at the time.

I was eventually given to Aunt Tudi, who took me home to Asheville, from living in Reidville, SC. Both she and Granny, Aunt Tudi's mother and my paternal grandmother, took it upon themselves to raise me in a safe and educational environment.

As I grew up, I realised that I had an extreme dislike for children. Now, I believe that this proclivity toward finding children distasteful is genetic and that I received that particular gene from the Mother Unit, who had also gotten the gene from her mother. The big difference between me and the Units, though, is that I never had children. I made a conscious choice to make certain that I would never be saddled with a child.

Of course, I grew up in an entirely different generation where I was afforded more options and was more educated about "family planning," so I can't really blame the Grandmother Unit or the Mother Unit for the choices that they made and their basic genetic natures. Everything can be traced back to our DNA, but it is up to us, if we have the ability, to bring to a halt certain genetic proclivities.

In my adult years, I have had a very good relationship with the Mother Unit and the Father Unit, before he died. I even got to establish a relationship with the Grandmother Unit before she passed. The Mother Unit has always been a presence in my life, even though we have lived apart since 1974. She was never a stranger to me and, for that, I am grateful. I doubt I would have acted in the same manner if I had had a child.

I got up this morning with some good news from the Mother Unit.

Later Aunt Tudi and I shared in some peanut butter and jelly goodness. We're about to engage in some rice goodness.

I got to talk to gunslingaaahhh on AIM for a while, the first time in a long time, so that made me happy.

So far, it's been a good day.

Generally just Un.

I have an appointment with a therapist for what I don't even know. Her name is Elizabeth Mantle and I'm supposed to be there at 11:00. I'm hoping to rush whatever she has planned so I can be home to watch The Mother Unit graduate. She deserves this degree, working so hard for it. I suggested she come out here to celebrate, but I doubt she will. There's nothing for her here. You can watch her get her just desserts right here: http://www.phoenix.edu/students/graduation.html

I'm listening to the 70s pop mix on Genius iTunes. It's rocking me out, at least in my head. If I tried to get up and do a dance, I'd fall flat of my arse.

Okay, I'm a goner for now. Gotta listen to 'Disco Inferno' and pump myself full of caffeine for the day's festivities. :|

I've had my first bout of insomnia since beginning Zyprexa. Why? Because I'm out of the medication. I called this morning to get more samples and should be able to pick them up when I go see Rosa tomorrow afternoon. Right now, I'm so incredibly sleepy, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience, but I'm fighting the urge to sleep, hoping that I can take advantage of the inclination at the proper time tonight. In the meantime, I'm talking Aunt Tudi to death as I strive for consciousness.

Speaking of Aunt Tudi, she caught a cold during one of our sojourns out amongst the Great Unwashed last week. It took her a few days, but she eventually succeeded in passing it on to me. We both sound like Snuffleuppagus (sp??) and feel like bantha poodoo. I went through the worst of it last night, but Aunt Tudi has really been feeling crappy. To her, most colds are near death experiences because of her compromised immune system. I've seen what is a simple case of the sniffles to everyone around her turn into pneumonia for Aunt Tudi. Fortunately, that isn't happening this go 'round. I always find myself holding my breath when she catches a cold though. Serious business.

I got a good candid photograph of Aunt Tudi earlier today. I think I'm gonna make it a habit to post at least one picture of her a week, just for the hell of it. She's gonna be so pissed off at me, but what do I care? I keep telling her that she has her own little fan club on Teh Intarwebs, but she doesn't seem to really believe me. Personally, I think a weekly Tudi Interlude-y is just what the World Wide Web needs. Once I upload the picture, I'll be sure to post it here and on Facebook. I'm sure her shriek of horror and fury will be heard worldwide.

I'm still a little blocked in the writing department. Both The Blood Crown and The Augury of Gideon are sources of angst for me at the mo. I know what I want to say, I just can't seem to say it in the manner desired. My next ploy is to drop the attempt to write prose and go into "biog" mode. What I want to do is work up a complete character study of the Apostate, chronicling his early days in the Tarmian colleges and detailing the crimes against nature that eventually earned him expulsion from the Circles of the Tarmi. I've already decided that he invented spectacles, creating them by using the alchemical tools and wisdom he learned in the college of Khemeth. I want to make him unbelievably brilliant and surprisingly sensitive on a certain level. This aspect is certainly attributable to his anchor. Once I have this character study, I think my words will begin to flow more smoothly and I can continue my work. At least that's my hope at any rate.

The Mother Unit sent me a box of goodies. Books, greeting cards, and happy bits and bobs greeted me when I cut the parcel open. I found the enclosed note nestled in the styro popcorn and chortled with glee at how she signed it ~ M. Unit! I've created a monster! I never realised how fond she'd be of my name for her, but I'm thrilled she likes it. Years ago, she referred to me as "O Spawn of Mine," so we've been using "Mother Unit" and "Spawn" for what seems like ages now. It makes me smile and it apparently does her as well.

Smidgen has a new nickname. When our weather radio alarm went off this morning (the first of many alerts to inform us that Mother Nature was trying to kill us), it sounded like it was a mile away. Why? Because Smidgen had straddled it and draped her flabby body over it like a nesting bird, effectively muffling the sound of the alarm. Seeing her like this inspired me to utter the name "Blobula." Talk about extremes. She was so tiny as a kitten, it inspired her name of "Smidgen." Now she's big and blubbery, inspiring the nick of "Blobula." I thought Aunt Tudi was gonna bust a gut laughing at Smidge's new cognomen. It is kind of funny if I do say so myself.

What else, what else? I think that's it for now. The evening brings to us new House and a new Law & Order (Linus!!!!). Then, hopefully...sleep, blessed sleep.

Bright blessings to any and all who read this scattered bloglet.

Granted, 'tis not the season, but Aunt Tudi just found the card, so I don't give a damn if it's the season or not, this is funny as hell, no matter what. The card was sent to me by The mother_unit in 1987.

Here's a picture of the card.

THE ITALIAN WHO WENT TO N.Y. ONE CHRISTMAS

One day Ima go to New York to a bigga hotel. I go down to eat soma breakfast. I tella the waitress I wanna two piss toast. She branga me only onea piss. I tella her I wanna two piss. She say go the toilet. I say you no understand. I wanna two piss on my plate. She say you better no piss on the plate you sonna ma bitch. I don't even know the lady and she call me sonna ma bitch!

Later, I go to eat soma lunch at Drake Restaurant, the waitress bringa me a spoon, ana knife, but no fock. I tella her I wanna fock. She tellsa me everybody wanna fock. I tella her, you no understand, I wanna fock on the table. She say you better not fock on the table, you sonna ma bitch. I don't even know the lady and she call me a sonna ma bitch.

So I go back to my room inna hotel, an there's no sheet on my bed. I calla the manager ana tell him I wanna sheet. He tells me to go to the toilet. So I say you no understand, I wanna sheet on the bed. He say you better not sheet on the bed, you sonna ma bitch. I don't even know the man ana he call me sonna ma bitch.

I go to the check out and the man at the desk, he say peace to you. I say piss onna you too, you sonna ma bitch. I got back to Italy!

My computer died today.....again. I was able to salvage the few things I've added since the last time it died, so everything on that PoS is safe and sound. I took it to the Geek Squad only to be told that my service agreement expired last month. I had been previously told that it didn't expire until February 2010, but no... It was this year. So I was screwed. I called from Best Buy to ask Aunt Tudi to call the Mother Unit and ask her if I could have some fundage to get a new computer, since I can't do any of my school work without one. She's sending me the money via PayPal today. I wrote a check for the new 'puter, a Hewlett Packard G60-235DX Notebook, and another 3-year maintenance agreement. Mother Unit to the rescue once again! I owe that woman my first born. Too bad I'm not having any kids. Besides, she'd be pissed at me if I tried to pawn a child off on her. She might even have me offed for such an offence.

I came home to get ready for work, used the bathroom, flushed the toilet and it overflowed and glugged every-damn-where. Aunt Tudi and I scrambled to clean up the mess and I began furiously plunging the toilet to get something, anything to go down. The water subsided somewhat. I called work to let them know I was gonna be a little late due to the lovely situation before me. I went to the local store for some de-clogging agents and brought them home. Nothing worked. More furious plunging. The water subsided. I'm waiting for the plumber to get here to do whatever needs to be done. I can't leave because I have to be here to pay him. Damn damn and more damn.

I'm so pissed off, I could strangle something. Unfortunately, there are currently no Right Wing Dominionists around for me to properly vent my anger in that respect.

The Mother Unit made these. She's so talented and insightful!

I called State Farm today. They've set me up with the official Saturn body shop to get the ION repaired. They also lined up a rental car from Enterprise for when I take the car in for the repairs. The lady with whom I spoke gave me the name and number of the insurance rep who will be working on this case from here on out. She said he'd be calling me about my medical bills and other expenses. I also talked to an attorney so I'd know what I need to do to keep my ducks in a row in the event I have problems with the insurance. He gave me the info I needed and stressed to me to document everything related to the wreck. Oh, and he told me not to sign any medical release forms for at least three to six months because, given the nature of my injury, it may not seem very serious right now, but it may turn out that I do have some long-term damage. Great. I'm gonna be working one of my forty jobs some night and my head is gonna suddenly fall off and roll across the floor. Just great.

When I got home from getting my paychecks and paying bills, I had a message from the Mother Unit. She'd called to see how I was since the car accident, which is really not like her. We share the aversion-to-the-phone gene, which probably originated with her father, my grandfather, G'pa Irving. I called her back and we chatted briefly. Near the end of the conversation, the Mother Unit told me to keep my chin up. I told her I couldn't, given the nature of my neck injury, which she found amusing in a dreadful, how-crappy-can-one-girl's-luck-be way. I did, however, thank her for the sentiment.

insanity_speaks posted a picture of Sarah Palin a while back that instantly made me think of booraven22's Schnitzel icon. The images have been lodged in my head ever since, so I succumbed to the hilarity and made this in Photoshop.



Oh, and....( diabeetus )

Here's batch number one, with closed captioning, behind the cut. Warning!! This is a very image-heavy post and is absolutely unfriendly to dial-up users. May the Mighties have mercy on all our souls.

( ai yai yai )

I'll do more tomorrow, if'n I get my way. For now, though, I must take my exhausted behonkie to bed.

So here I am at work again, after reading an acerbic (and quite warranted) treatise against the Music Business in the newspaper over the weekend. It seems the artists are finally organising to fight The Man. I hope they win, even though it scares me that I may lose my job as a result. Sometimes...no...MOST of the time I feel so dirty knowing that I'm part of machine that helps to enslave artistic people.

If I get the chance, I'm going to transcribe the article to the computer and will definitely post it here for posterity's sake.

Barry likes the initial title page for his website. He wants to change the banner font to a Tench-like scribble and should be sending that to me shortly. I'm fairly excited about the whole thing.

Mama sent me a website the scared the 12 year old girl out of me. I'll be visiting often, especially when I'm alone and in a dark room. Dead People

So this is the first day of Autumn and I'm kinda blue. Not really certain why...it could just be PMS.

Lew came the house for the first weekend in a long time. He's been so busy with helping his daughter and working on Melany's house as payment for letting him and his daughter stay their for a couple of months that we've hardly seen one another in some time. Anyway, his visit was a very nice one and we spoke of plans for the near future and beyond, some of them practical and wishful, some of them terribly naughty.

Henry is still recovering nicely. He's walking about with his butt tucked in like it hurts him to move. No wonder! He has about 2 dozen staples in his gut from his wee-wee to just below the ribcage. Po baby..

I've been watching 'Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring' a lot lately. It brings back those days when I was so immersed in the Tolkien mythos. I can almost recapture that wonder and grace in which I walked in the days I read Tolkien for the first time....especially The Silmarillion. Somehow, I can't quite attain in its fullest though, and I'm left with a longing not unlike the High Elves' desire to return to the West.

Disjointed thoughts...that should be the title of this post. My mind wanders and my fingers move.

This is the product.