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Sep. 26th, 2011

Colonoscopy came back normal. This is good in that it means there's no sign I have colon cancer or Inflammable Bowel Syndrome. it's bad in that I still don't know why my Irritable Bowel Synddome has been flaring up so badly as of late. Follow-up appointment in two weeks where I'm getting some biopsy results and asking more questions.


I've been busy. A lot of stuff has happened, some of it awesome, some of it exhausting. I mean to sum it up later. PAX was involved and something awesome called IronDie.

If you follow my journal you likely know I have irritable bowel syndrome, or IBS. I'm used to most of the inconvenience at this point but had a bad flare-up for the past few weeks, including some alarming symptoms that mean it's within my best interest to undergo more medical tests to confirm everything's alright. I have yet to meet anyone who considers being told to drink a bottle of ex-lax and have a camera shoved up their rectum a day in the park, so yeah, less than thrilled about this.

On the bright side, I HAVE A KITTEN! Photos will be forthcoming.
My father is in town for the weekend. He took my sister and I to dinner tonight at a nice restaurant. Right before my lasagna arrived he blurted out that he and my mother were getting a divorce.

He hasn't lived at home for five years. He was at seminary, now he's looking for a job, and in the five years both he and my mother have grown as people while they grew apart. They weren't very close to begin with, admittedly.

I'm not angry at either of them, I'm sad. Something is ending and something is beginning and I hope this gives them the happiness they never had together. For my mother, I feel it already has.

Interesting Times

I'm currently dealing with some shit in my life. Mostly it involves my stress levels being higher than they should be and needing to adjust my meds. Stressors like working at a job that pays entirely in store credit and two cats that aren't killing each other but are very sullenly playing pissing games, and everything in August. Everything includes two major conventions I'm selling jewelry at, one where I'm working entirely by myself, a third one I need to make things for, two people coming to visit me, and because I'm a masochist I start fostering again. And of course because my scheduling abilities are nigh nonexistent, one of the people coming to visit me is arriving the weekend of one of the conventions.


1. I have registered for jewelry making classes at the local community college.

2. I have a part time job organizing an absurd amount of Magic cards that pays me entirely in store credit.

3. I have adopted another cat named Sarabi. If the name sounds familiar, it's the one Jeremy Irons snarls at the top of his lungs in the Lion King.

That's no moon

That is not the moon
Nor is this
The spring of years gone by
I alone remain
As I was before.
- Narihira, c.a. 850

As much as I love that poem, I must disagree. The moon, the spring, they have stayed the same. I am the one who is not as I was.

And as of yet, those changes have been ones I don't have to regret.


I identify as a feminist.

It's been brought to my attention that a number of women of my generation who do likewise don't seem to understand what that term is actually supposed to mean. Allow me to clarify.

I am a feminist:

Because in Afghan and other parts of the world families are socially and morally obligated to kill their daughters if they're raped. Because in Darfur a man left his wife and five children because she was raped. Because in China and India female fetuses are aborted. Because in India a peasant woman who has a daughter is back working in the fields three days after she's given birth instead of the month of rest she'd be granted if it had been a son. Because in Egypt female babies are abandoned in empty lots. Because I want to be able to be economically independent. Because I want to explore my own sexuality without being condemned.

Not because I am a victim. Not because I believe men are evil. Not because I believe in insulting or attacking or belittling men, or that men should feel ashamed because of their gender. Not because sex that was awkward or less than ideal should automatically be labeled as a rape. Not because I want to punish anyone who has the same gender or background as someone who oppressed or injured someone with my same gender or background.

I am a feminist because I believe in having access to the same opportunities as men. Women who take advantage of legislature and attitudes that were meant to protect us, that our mothers and grandmothers fought and bled and died for, and use it to hurt men in some bizarre power trip, are no better than the men who rape and abuse women.

ETA: It's that time of the year where Goodwill has a crapload of books college students didn't get around to selling or chucking in the dumpster. Got a bunch of East Asian Studies and Women's Studies books, and reading either of those topics results in soliloquies on m part.


Two days ago I went to the cat shelter where I volunteer and found that Shivali and Gilgamesh had not, in fact, been adopted. The couple I'd been nervous about who said they would adopt them wound up never coming to pick them up. As Shivali has this wonderful ability to get layers of shit, cat food, and litter all over whatever crate she's staying in and tries to get out whenever anyone opens it to clean up, the best route was to take her back until the next fostering event.

I am very, very not happy. I have been taking care of her and her sons for four months. I have scars on my hands and chest from giving them three weeks of meds, I can't take a shower in my bathroom, and whenever I need to pee I have to deal with an avalanche of escaping cats. I cleaned up puddles of daily puke and diarrhea when they got sick, and when they were two weeks old had to give them anitbiotics for ten days while being convinced I'd fucked up and gotten the kittens killed. And right now they're on another round of meds for five days, a round of meds which has me, two days in, with scratches on my hand, wrists, and thighs, and both of them spitting up most of the meds I give them- which I don't have any extra of, by the way, so I need to explain to the shelter I've been 'wasting' them because when a fucking cat I'm holding who has been scratching me and squirming and twisting decides even more that they want me to let the fuck go, or escapes, guess what- they fucking escape and spit out the meds I haven't gotten them to swallow.

I am one goddamn person and both Shivali and Gilgamesh have very strong personalities, meaning they do not put up with any shit. All of the supposedly foolproof methods of giving them meds seem to require me growing four arms. And I'm tired of four months of dealing with this crap, of getting this close and getting an alpha stray cat to trust me only to know I'm giving her up.


Everyone got adopted today. I'm nervous about Shiva and Gilgamesh, who were adopted by a couple who have never had cats before, and part of me's almost wishing that they would return her so I could take her back. I don't know if they're going to know what to do with the two of them, and after a four month investment I just want to know they're going to be loved and happy.


Gilgamesh, Merlin, and Shiva

This was them back in March:

And this is them last week:

Today they are all getting fixed, and Friday Merlin is going home with his new family and Shiva and Gilgamesh get put up for adoption, and I start the cycle all over again with new cats.



bunny with pancake

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