Well, last time I posted it was spring and I was having an acting-class breakdown. It's now fall, so the weather has gone from chilly to blistering to chilly again. I have not acted since last December and have pretty much lost my appetite for performing. I'm feeling more satisfaction in solitude. I have other artistic interests that I've been neglecting, and I don't need to prove to someone that I can do them in order to do them.
I have a new rabbit for Leroy -- she's been around for several months now; she was very young when I adopted her, so she's his trophy wife. They took to each other very quickly, and now they are inseparable. She's small. brown, and I've named her Sparrow. Actually, her full name is Lady Jane Sparrow Vashta Nerada Furry Piranha.
Because she, Gentle Readers, is a chewer. A chewer that makes a Great White look like a milk-licking kitten.
I've plexiglassed the furniture, shoved blankets under the sofa bed (she was climbing under and up inside and shredding something), stapled hardware cloth to the bottom of the love seat to prevent her from eating it from the inside like the creature from Alien, and have put flexible aluminum ducting over the legs of my dining-room table.
The trash-picked wooden side table has been given over as a casualty of war.
Part of this, I suspect, is because she's very young, and getting adjusted. As she's grown, the chewing has diminished, and hay seems to be all she needs for her chewing urge. She's also still a little skittish (she was found roaming the streets -- people, do NOT dump unwanted rabbits outside - give them to a shelter!) and I think the chewing calms her. As a stress eater, I can relate; what I do to a pack of gum is unholy.
But I'll keep the place locked down for now.
George, Harry's brother and my last cat standing, passed away in August. He'd been having some issues with bladder inflammation, had an ultrasound, threw an embolism, had what appeared to be a mini-stroke, and after several days of watching him get worse, I took him to the vet to be put out of his suffering at the age of 20. What can I say -- it was hard. I miss having a kitty around -- It's been 23 years since I've lived without one. For financial reasons I won't add one to the house yet, but I do miss kitties. I miss my kitties, terribly.
Have finally gotten over my crush on Younger Guy -- I knew I would; I just needed to wait until my brain got over it, and it did. We are completely incompatible, and there's only so many times I can suggest a movie or a book or a musical performance or an outing or a play and have it routinely shot down by a laundry list of gross over-generalizations as to Why He Won't Like It. There's no way I could be happy or grow with someone so determined to reduce life to a series of unshakable prejudices. It's too bad - he's not a bad person, and I hope he finds that woman someday who motivates him to take more chances.
I'm getting to that point in life where I'm losing interest in romance completely. Or rather, in the notion that romance is real. I find myself more interested in hanging out with my female friends and having no guys around at all.
Earlier in the year I went back on an antidepressant I'd taken many years ago. I got tired of feeling on the verge of tears constantly, not to mention the free-floating rage. I'm better now, less manic, able to focus and be more measured. Which is by no means to say that I'm calm; just able to control the impulsivity much better. One side effect (which I had before) is memory issues. I forget the names of actors, books, etc. Things that I'd always been able to pull out of the air stump me. People watching me on the train must be perplexed to see me staring furiously at a point in space for several minutes before a look of relief washes over me as I mutter, "DIANE KEATON!"
I'm still stressed, mostly from work related to my condo board. Our property manager is another hi-drive woman like me; turns out we are on the same medication, and the other day we were talking about our crazy stress dreams:
"I'm in school and I can't find the classroom!"
"I can't get someone to drive me to the airport so that I don't miss my flight!"
"I'm trying to hurry but the ground turns to mud."
"I'm back in college and I can't keep my grades up with a full-time job."
"None of the cars starts, and when one does, it has bungee cords where the doors should be and I'm afraid the goat will fall out."
Much more has happened this summer, but enough of going backward --I'm making a pact to blog regularly again. It clears my mind, it helps me process and unwind. And it brings me closer to you.