Thursday 11 October 2001

The luckiest

Ooh ooh do you see that date up there, isn't that so cool? When you put today's date into the American short format - mm-dd-yy (as opposed to the Australian/UK standard of dd-mm-yy) - its all binary and palindromic and shit ooh ooh. I like that kind of thing, I find it deeply satisfying. Further proof I'm a weird freak, I guess.

Shutting up now.

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Our poor wee Jessie has roundworm. Yes I know that's exactly what you wanted to be told but hey, this is my life. At least, last time I looked ... Hm. Anyway I won't go into all the details about all the puking and pooing and the long stringy wriggly things in everything that mean I won't be wanting to cook any of my stir fried rice noodle dishes for a while but ew ew ew. None of my other cats, back in Australia, had this kind of thing, which is weird, so I was a bit icked at first, even though I honestly do have a strong stomach and was brought up on and around farms where there are ickier things done to sheep and I honestly won't go into that. Sam was way more icked than I was, heh, but he wouldn't admit it 'cause he's like, a boy.

We took her to the vet, to get her checked over and to get the right preparation. The vet was really nice, not as nice as gorgeous Polish Dr K.  who was/is Gus and Bella's vet back in Perth, but I'll probably come round. He gave Jess a shot and sent us away with a few extra packets of worming powders and a packet of Advantage (like Frontline, for fleas, which she doesn't have but we're going with the prevention being better than the cure thing here) so she should start picking up soon. She was so sick and sad, her pathetic "meow meow" was even more incompetent than usual (I'd love to get a wav file of it up here one day, it's really funny ... at least to cat people. Dog people would probably use it to train their dogs to "get the cat!" so I'd better not go there).

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Jessamyn made me cry today. Her entry I can't find a way to explain how much was so poignant, so perfect, what it's really like to want to express love and appreciation but you don't or can't, because it would be too intense and odd, or the timing isn't right, or the words simply don't exist. She had me in floods of tears and snot and all. I started getting choked up a couple of paragraphs in, then tears started streaming down my face without me even knowing it - until they splashed off the keyboard - and then when she got to the part about singing and harmonising to The Luckiest (and play the song at that point in her entry and I dare even the most hardened people not to get sniffly) I was outright howling (and the entry and song still had the same effect on me on the fourth re-read ... ).

I never used to be such a big sap, I've never been a big crier. I rarely cried from adolescence on, through some of the worst times in my life, the work crises, the disappointments, the physical pain and emotional frustration; all that crap. I knew it wasn't "normal", that people did cry about such things. I didn't get the philosophy that a good cry would help. Partly it was down to the whole real men don't cry thing, mostly though I was frightened that once I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. So a few tears and a bit of a sniffle was all I'd allow myself before "pulling myself together" (now there's a weird phrase for you, interesting image really, I mean, does one kinda pull bits of anatomy back into place or what?). 

Since the advent of Sam, though, and moving here and all, I've turned into such a crybaby. I get the weeps all the time (and no I am not pregnant, Mum), at the slightest provocation; a journal entry I'm reading, a report on the news, a song ... The weeks after the terrorist attacks I would dissolve a couple of times a day, without warning. And I have seriously weird dreams too, but I won't go into those 'cause, well ... they're weird.  I remember I went through a similar stage the last few weeks in Perth, while I was packing up and saying goodbyes, but put it down to the stress and emotional wear 'n' tear of that time.

I finally figured out what all this might mean; rather than that I'm dissolving into an emotional basket-case, I'm becoming healthier, able to trust myself (and Sam, of course) enough to let go, to not bury feelings and thoughts waaay under, and so a lot of built-up stuff might be outpouring, or discharging, so to speak (all that mucus, snot and tears). Maybe the weeps will wear off, maybe they won't. Either way I'm kinda happy with the new version of me.

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