March 10, 2014 my beautiful, loyal, halloween spooky black cat died

I came home, and I found him upstairs panting and crying for me. He couldn't walk ten steps before he collapsed. Less than three hours later, he died in my arms.

People keep asking me how I'm doing. I loved him. To be honest, I probably loved that little furry black cat more than I've ever loved anything or anyone, except my daughter. He never judged me, never hurt me, never made fun of me when I made mistakes.

How in the fuck do people think I'm doing? I'm not dead. To be honest, I'm not dead, because I don't want anyone else to feel the way I feel right now. I go back and forth between feeling completely empty, as though I just don't give a shit about anything at all. There is no point to being alive, not really. There's that, or to being absolutely furious, that he's gone. Because it isn't fair. He was the only thing I had, and he's gone. He loved me. And he's gone, and there's nothing I can do about it.

So the fact that I can't come up with anything constructive to talk about, or being positive, or looking ahead. You now what? Go fuck yourselves.

How many times have I propped people up, when they were this down, and I sure as shit didn't tell any of you that I had better things to do with my day that listen to you whine about how they feel, or how they didn't feel anything at all.

And there's the rage. 

So you want to know how I'm doing without him? That's how I'm doing. He's gone. I have to cope with it. But right now, the best I can do is not die, and not try to damage anyone else. I find it fucked up that the people who once knew me best, understood me best, could have understand that.

I'm already hurt and broken. Trust me, for all of the people who wanted me to suffer? You all got your wish. You wanted revenge? There you go. Congratulations. You won. You broke me.

Love vs Life - Yeah, that's me all right. It's always Controversial.

Love can change. Most people don't think about it in a literal way, but it's true. The way you feel about someone or something, can change day by day, minute by minute, even in an instant. And what are feeling? Well, bottom line, feeling end up in some fashion, love. Or hate, sometimes. They're emotions.

How you felt today may not be the same way that you'll feel tomorrow, but if we're talking about people, those feelings may still be love. Being "in" love tends to be misleading. I guess part of it has to do with chemistry and hormones, the high you get from feeling your pulse race and your skin burn and heat up.

What happens when the burning rush wears off? Now that's the question, right? Was it "love"? Or was it something else? And how do you figure that out?

Sex definitely complicates things. If you toss sex into the mix, it pretty much guarantees that it will make things more complicated, like trying to figure out love isn't hard enough, correct?

How do you get to know someone all the way, without that component? (Yes, I'm talking here to my adult readers). Can you? Possibly. Spending time getting to know someone is very important, whether you're looking for a relationship or just friendship.

Using the Internet has changing the world, and the rules, in a way that makes me sort of nervous about getting to know new people at all sometimes.

I've learned, not that I didn't know it before, that people lie. But it's so much easier to lie in the virtual world than it is in the physical world.

If you lie in a small town, those lies will catch you pretty fast. Online? Not so easily, and sometimes not at all. A scary image there, isn't it?

Who can you trust? Yourself? Instinct? Trust me, I am *not* the expert here. I crash and burn too.

You, yes. Back to love. People, *all* people, are imperfect. If you are out there looking for the perfect person who will make all your dreams come true? It's a fantasy.

If you're looking for someone who will "complete" you? You're going to be constantly disappointed.

Until you know yourself, love yourself, accept your strengths and your weaknesses on your own, and understand that you yourself are lovable and can love yourself on your own terms, when you can *really* see that?

That is when you'll see that you'll be able to compliment and embrace someone else. You don't need to be perfect. Neither does anyone else. Love, all love, isn't perfect.

It's a matter of understanding, accepting, supporting without overwhelming, and standing on your own two feet - but being willing to accept a hand if someone offers it when you need it.

Love does not demand, it gives support without crowding, it gives space to grow.

I guess I understand that now. Love can wait, there is no rush to get somewhere. It's a journey, not a destination.

Maybe life and love are the same?

Just a thought.

for green cookies, stir fry dinners, dogs down playing at the river, family, and love...please don't forget...I'm so sorry...

No one enjoys being a blind idiot. Well, I suppose some people do, but I'm not one of them.

I also don't particularly enjoy hurting people, or hurting myself. As it turns out, I managed to do both, without ever realizing it. Problem with the whole fucking situation? It happened so many years ago that by now, as it has been so nonchalantly put it - that ship has long since sailed, and I wasn't on it, and even if I try to take a new ship to get there, I'm fairly sure I'm not welcome anymore.

Have you ever stopped and looked at your life, looked back at it, and wondered where the time went? Thought about the choices you made, or the decisions you've made, and wondered what would have happened if...?

The truth is, that's not something I have ever spent a lot of time thinking about. Suddenly I've been thinking about such things, and I gotta say, it sort of sucks. I was always one of the people who knew that you can't change the past, so dwelling on it didn't do a whole lot of good, so what was the point, right?

Yeah, well, apparently I was just sticking my head in the sand so that I didn't need to deal with the emotions and loss that could and does come with it. I think I'd rather be oblivious. It doesn't hurt as much.

I used to lament my missing memories, because I thought it was a curse. As it turns out? Maybe it wasn't so bad. Knowing what I lost, sometimes, it really really hurts more than I ever imagined.

I saw something once that told me that I should write about what I know. This is what I know.

I'm thirty six years old. I am far from perfect. I made the worst made in judgement imaginable and it cost me something and someone I may never get back, and that's something I have to learn to accept. It is going to take some time, possibly a lot of time, to heal from the wounds I put myself in a position in to be damaged this badly from. I need to figure out who I am now, and where it is that I want to go from here.

The only thing I know for sure, with all of the mixed up things in my screwed up life, is that I *do not* want to lose my friends.

I allowed myself to be isolated and I'm sorry for that, but I can't change it. I hope you love me enough to forgive me and my stupidity, and will love me still, and come back, because I still love you.

Day by day, I'll get stronger, and as time passes, I *will* heal.

It's been a long time - and I hope you're still here!

It really has been quite a while, and I have some good reasons, and I have some really lousy reasons. Maybe I'll get into them.

I'll start things off with a bang, by saying my blog *is* back, and should be active once again, not this bullshit every once-in-a-blue-moon deal. Sorry about that, for those of you who actually did read it regularly, and missed me.

I can't guaranty that it'll be as much fun as it used to be, but at least it won't be dead. Being able to read, (sort of), write (again, sort of) and have opinions (definitely!) again, means that I'll have to sit and blather on *somewhere*, ergo, here I am!

But really, I've been out of the loop, and I'm just now starting to get back in the groove. Also, I'm back in school, working on my Bachelor's degree. Figure since everyone else in existence has had a good time screwing around with my brain, it's about time I get a degree so *I* can screw  around with everybody else's!

In that vein, in another year or so, you can look for Controversy in a supermarker near you, peddling my wares as a trained and licensed psychologist, specializing in working with teenagers. All kidding aside, that's what I've wanted to do when I grow up for quite a while, and that dream is actually within my grasp now. So close, in fact, I can practically taste it. It tastes damn good too.

For those who are interested, the school I'm attending is the American Military University, which is an online-only fully accredited university, which is also open to the public. So don't be put off by the "military" in the name. Essentially, it's teh awesome, right down the line. People from all over the freaking world attend there, and it's pretty much top-notch. Also, they've got fields for degrees that are actually *useful* in the current market, unlike an awful lot of traditional schools. And yes, they have financial aid, etc. So if you're thinking about going back to school, at least go and take a look.

So, let me think...what's going on in my life, aside from my poster-board add for the University? Oh, right. My grandmother passed away in April, and that sucked great big donkey balls, and I took it hard, a lot harder than I had thought I was going to. I'd known it was coming (she was 98, so, you know, it was sort of predictable), but it still felt like somebody hit me with a 2x4 in the gut. And a week and a half ago, my grandfather-in-law passed away, which I also knew was coming, and ended up having the same damned feeling. Which sucked, and is also irritating. I really, truly thought I was prepared. Turns out? When you love someone? No amount of preparation changes a damned thing.

I lost a bunch of weight. I gained a bunch of weight. I lost some of it again. Gained a bit, lost a little. Seems to be holding steady for right now. My hair finally started growing, yay! And, as I'd be warned, it's curly as all hell, unless I blow it dry. And even when I do that, it's still pretty wavy. I'm okay with that, because honestly? It looks pretty good on me.

Over the last couple of weeks, the weather finally got warm, and I finally decided I no longer give three craps about what anyone thinks about my jiggly butt, or my arms, or anything else, actually, so I've been running around in tank tops and shorts, and as a result, I've got a fairly nice tan going on. One I haven't had in....oh, I'd say going on about ten years now. Which feels nice, since I'd started to feel like Casper the not-so-friendly-ghost. Even my hair is getting its share of nature highlights, so I may start looking like myself again, instead of...not me? I don't know. But with the new contact lenses, (yay, I can see!), a tan, my hair long again, the highlights the way it used to be. Even if I'm still heavy, I can move around, I can swim, I *feel* like me, so much more than I have in years.

I'm sitting here, curled up in a ball, a black cat with me, music in my ears, keyboard under my fingers, looking as my thoughts flow out. It feels so *normal*. Maybe that's what I needed, to sit here, looking at the computer, looking at my blog, writing to you - the people who used to be my listeners. And I feel in some very deep rooted way, complete, happy, real - in a way I haven't felt in so long I honestly can't remember.

This post is the 500th on here, and perhaps, no, I know why I haven't been writing until now. I had things to say, but I didn't want to just say "oh, hi, I'm not dead, see you later" as the post of the 500th.

Maybe that's vain. And that's alright, because I had to climb several big-ass mountains, and fell down quite a few times before I get to the top. But I made it, and I'm here. And and may not be whole. I'm definitely not the same. But I made it, and I didn't give up, and that's saying something. I haven't given up, given in, or or quit. And I won't. I still have a life to live, and I still have goals, and I'm still determined to reach them.

Ordinary Reader has left a new comment on your post: "It's been a year and a half and maybe you've forgotten about this blog long ago, but I want to ask. How are you?

Hey there Ordinary Reader,

I had been neglecting this blog, and I apologize to you, and any other people who also was a dedicated reader here.

The question posed as to how I am, and right up until about a half hour ago, my answer would have been "lousy".

That is not the case now, and Ordinary Reader - I saw your message. And it caused me to sit down and actually think that through, *really* think about it, and how I am. And after I thought about it, I suddenly realized that, yes, I am doing just fine. And this is why:

I have spent the last nearly two years feeling sorry for myself, and ashamed of myself, for things that I had no control over. If you're a long-time reader, you'll have seen that I've had a couple of brain tumors, and had them removed, and that the second tumor was malignant, a stage 3 cancer. And I have been taking way too many medications and have been through hell, trying to beat the odds on staying alive. I was given devastating odds on survival. I have, currently, beaten those odds with the help of a phenomenal Hematology-Oncology doctor Marshall Flam, M.D. here in Fresno, CA. I did radiation, chemotherapy, and it sucked. However, I'm alive, and getting better every day.

And it was a long, long haul to get here, and I still have some problems. But then again, who doesn't?

But I've been hiding, and trying to be and do something I'm not. I have handicaps now that changed who I used to be. Some of those changes made me a much better person today than I was. Some of those changes made me become ashamed of who and what I am now. And today, I took a good heard look at myself, and realized that I have no reason to feel ashamed about the person I am.

I have spent most of my adult life trying to fit in, trying to make up for the person I was before that first surgery. I've been apologizing endlessly to what feels like the entire world for sins that happened 17 years ago. The ironic part is that I haven't been able to remember the majority of those sins, because my long-term memory was thoroughly scrambled like eggs from the first removal.

I'm finished now, feeling ashamed of the woman I've become. I've tried to remember what happened way back then, and attempted to apologize to the people I hurt. And now? Now, I'm looking in the mirror, and the woman I am is a good person.

I deserve to be happy, with the choices I make now. I deserve to look at myself, and accept that I'm not ever going to be a model, never going to do some of the things I used to do. And that's alright, because I can do other things, and maybe these new things will work out, or maybe they won't, but there's nothing that stops me from trying now.

I am looking at myself, and I am not ashamed to be me. Not anymore. Thank you, Ordinary Reader, for reminding me who I am.

--Controversy

I know there's no popularity contest, and *certainly* I should long since given up the hope of being treated as something resembling an equal, but evidently hope springs eternal. And because of this, I keep getting smacked, over and over again, and keep looking around and trying to figure out what it is that makes me just so unlovable, and unwanted that I get kicked around and ignored unless it's convenient.

This has been an incredibly difficult year for me. I keep hoping that somehow, eventually, she's going to love me just for me. I should know better and I kept trying, looking for something that resembled some kind of family. I guess the truth is that I'm always going to be the not-good-enough one. The one who was difficult and troubled, so wasn't worth the hassle. And in the end, the one that wasn't even useful at all, when the model she wanted in the first place came back.

Maybe she doesn't care when I ask and ask for someone to visit me, and no one ever comes unless there is some secondary reason to come here. In five years, the only time she's ever come to town was when something else happened to coincide with work or other business, and every time I asked there was never enough money for her to afford to visit. But she can afford to go to other cities to visit the one she wanted, can even afford to go across the country to visit her, stopping all over visiting all kinds of things...but not me. And I'd been asking for months.

I feel small, and broken, and not worth anything. The way I always end up feeling when I think about her. I have enough trouble keeping my head above water, without this constant feeling of drowning from all of the things that are lacking in me that makes me useless.

And the thing that hurts the most is that no one will ever care, and I'll continue to go on crying and nothing will ever change, until I can just walk away and be done with it entirely.

Don't take your pleasure from my pain...

I had a birthday over the summer, and as a result, I'm now 33 years old. Since I got sick at the beginning of the year, and off and one since then, I keep thinking about the past. My memory is always going to be spotty, two surgeries on your brain will do that to someone. But the truth is, it occurred to me at my birthday, there was no one there who knew me before I was 20.

And the reason for that, because in high school I actually *did* have friends, is that the "friends" I had, have all decided that they hate me now. Not one single solitary one of them has ever explained to me what it was that I did. One of them, Jerusha, told me that I nearly ruined her life...and when I asked what it was that I *DID*, she refused to explain. I remember that she liked to party, had a drinking problem, and hated her parents...none of which had anything to do with me.

I'm fully aware that before that first tumor was diagnosed and removed, I was irrational, unreliable, and difficult to put it mildly. But I was also the girl who has completely miserable, most of the time. The one who ran away from home, because it was *that bad*, and not a single one of any of my "friends" asked why it was that I had no free time, and wasn't allowed to do any of the things that their parents allowed them do.

And now, the people who I actually *did* do something that might have hurt then, those people have been apologized to, and at least I attempted to make amends.

And yet, most of the people who 'knew me when', continue to hate me. People who take glee or some sort of satisfaction to continue to spread rumors and talk crap about me, for things that happened 15 years ago. I have a reputation for being a god-awful backstabbing person, someone not to be trusted, and who would ruin people by association.

Someone who was once a friend said that they could see me running toward a disaster, and didn't want to be caught in the fallout. What made me wonder about Sara was that she, also, never bothered to see if there was something *wrong*, that might have been causing me to do so many completely off the wall things.

As it turned out, in 2004, I learned that my lack of impulse control, my inability to be rational, to lose my temper at the least provocation, all of that was because I had a lump the size of a golf ball on three sections of my brain. As soon as all the extra pressure was removed, my entire personality changed, literally overnight.

And yet, the trash-talking persists. People talk to *other people*, not to *ME*, and they seem to enjoy insuring that my life will continue to be difficult. This town is too small for me not to run into people, virtually anywhere I go.

My life was difficult when I was younger. I was angry and unhappy, and when I finally grew up and managed to put myself back together, even if it took brain surgery to do it, I discovered that my past will apparently never be left in peace.

I've gone through hell, still not exactly living in a rose garden now, but it still won't let it rest in peace. I have *earned* that right, and yet it remains.

I just wish they would stop using me as a way to make themselves feel better about their lives. Wish they'd forget they ever knew me, or knew anything about me, because the choices I made, and the person I was, she doesn't even exist anymore, and hasn't existed for a long time.

Grow up, and leave me alone.