unavoidedcrisis: dalmatian resting its head on the arm of a couch (resting dalmatian)
Oh. Hey. My last journal entry was my 1,500th on this LJ. Go me.

Hello everyone. Let's talk about a thing.

So pets die, right? I deal with that a lot on account of I work at a vet clinic. PS, I don't think I'm building up to a certain point, I just need to pour out some words, so. Don't expect some sweeping, majestic summation of human existence at the end here.

There's a lot of different reasons as to why someone would have to get a pet put to sleep (PTS), but if the reason is bogus, my vets will send the person away with a live pet. They don't fuck around and take "well I just don't want it anymore" as an excuse. Reason number five hundred and sixteen that I love my job, right.

The vast, overwhelming majority of pets that are PTS at our clinic are PTS because they are very old and their bodies are shutting down on them. That's... a pretty damn good way to go, it turns out. Better than the ones we see that are young and suddenly horribly ill or injured. We get those sometimes, but it's far less regular.

My first PTS at this clinic (and my first working in the field, not a PTS that was one of my pets) was an old, sick cat who had had a great run and needed a little mercy. I was fine with this. The owner cried a little, thanked us profusely, and left with her equally crying toddler. It happened, I went "aw, that's too bad, poor family," and went about my business.

The second PTS was an ancient sheltie with an equally ancient man for an owner. He'd known this day was coming and was just so... At peace with it. We dragged a chair into the exam room so he could sit with her (we don't have chairs in there normally on account of very small exam rooms) and his adult daughter was with him. She was sobbing, he was just sitting quietly with his hand on the dog's paw. The daughter had to leave the room, asked if I would stand with him. I did, because how do you say no to a sobbing lady and a 5000 year old man who are asking for something so simple? You don't, that's how. I felt sad after this, but the old man hugged and thanked me when we took the dog's body away and I went on with my day.

(The aforementioned old cat's owner came by a few days later with a fruit basket. That happened. Blew my goddamn mind.)

I didn't know either of these families or their pets, this being my 1st/2nd week at the clinic, but I knew their pain and it made me frown and go "awww, bad day for them, I feel empathetic towards this situation, &c." This was also right around the time I had to put Casey to sleep.

We had a couple more, I don't really remember. A relatively young dog with pancreatitis that had been in every day for about 15 in a row for rechecks, fluid therapy, etc. had to be PTS in my first amount of time at the hospital. I knew the owners a little better (really nice old married couple) and I knew the dog. She was a real sweetie. They thanked us too, the whole team, and gave the vet who did the euth a hug and dropped off a card when they came back to pick up the dog's ashes.

But then Nash. Nash was a dog I had never met before who belonged with a family I'd never before. He was old and very sick and he had a peaceful death. And fuck did I ever cry. I got myself together relatively quickly, but in the 10 minutes I was crying, I was fucking sobbing.

There have been about 4 now that have had me in honest to god tears. And a few more past that were I've welled up a little, or had a Dean Winchester style "single manly tear." But I mean, the majority of them are "oh gosh, that poor cat/dog/hamster/family." There's a few more coming up, that we know are on the horizon that I know I'll cry over (including one for Sasha that's going to have me in tears for an hour, I guarantee it. Tonight or tomorrow. Very anxious about going to work soon :/), and a few more that I'll just be thankful have finally happened (again, Sasha. Ugh, poor creature).

On Friday, we had to euth a large Maine Coon (like McLovin and Casey...). The owner was a bedridden 89 year old woman and the cat came in with her daughter and HER daughter (so, daughter and grand-daughter to cat's owner, referred to henceforth as "lady" and "daughter" because I never met the actualfax owner). The cat was sick (suddenly, acutely, in a 8 year old cat, so still relatively young, though maybe closer to geriatric from a Maine Coon stance). Very sick. We did rads and a basic CBC to comfirm. Yes, the cat was very sick, Yes, the best thing we can do for the kitty now is have it PTS. So that's what the lady and her daughter did. They called the owner and she said goodbye over speakerphone in the exam room, then they paid the bill and left. They couldn't stay while it happened.

Some people find it really difficult to stay for any of it, and some people don't even want the pet to be taken to the treatment room to have the catheter put in because any time away from the pet is horrible for them to conceive (putting in an IV cath makes it way easier and less painful to put the euthynol in, less messy, less scary, less stressful. We put a cath in in the back, bring the pet back to the family and the vet gives them however much time they need before coming back in and doing the euth). I'm totally non-judgey of whatever someone chooses to do. I stay through every second of McLovin's euth last April and patted his stupid cat head. I was there for all of Casey's, but I could barely look at him, let alone touch him. Grief does weird things to us, every time.

They left, me and the tech stayed with the cat while the vet put the needle. It was good, tbh, that they left. The cat needed way more of the drug than we thought it would, had to IC after initial sedation. It was pretty bad to watch (but he didn't feel it, don't worry). I cried a little because it made me think of my stupid Maine Coons who decided both to die last year.

I'm covered in cat fur and dried tears now, it's 30 minutes after we close and we've been slammed all day, so I'm sweating like a cow. I've stripped off my scrub top, so I'm in my ratty old kennel tank and am washing blood from a very-enthusiastically-in-heat dog off the walls in the big exam room when someone starts rattling the front door. I am pissed, and exhausted (after being there 30 minutes late on top of my 13 hour shift already and it's been a goddamn long day).

It's the cat's people. The lady and her daughter. They brought us cupcakes.

So. I cried a little over the cat. I fucking sobbed over the cupcakes. Grief does weird things to people.

This has been a lot of thoughts about dead pets. I have to vent them out periodically so I don't explode.

Also, never give your dog his/her medication mixed with chocolate milk, that just makes you a fucking idiot.
unavoidedcrisis: rainbow swoosh with the text "nyarrr" (nyarrr!)
My mother and step father went away for two weeks and I was supposed to dog sit. So I did. But also I work 65-70 hours a week now, so the lady across the road was going to co-dogsit. Nothing intense, just coming over once a day Thursdays-Sundays to let them out for five minutes and then lock the house up. Seriously not hard to do, despite how ridiculous our dogs are.

She shows up on the second day and says no, not only can she not do this anymore, but her and her husband have suddenly decided to go to Mexico for a month, so would I mind watching her dogs.

Um. That is the actual exact opposite of you watching mine, lady.

Plus, yeah, ours are a little hyper? But you have a people-aggressive Staffie and a blind&deaf&can't use his back legs at all 80lb Malamute who also has insulin-dependent diabetes. Your dogs are hella harder to take care of than mine!

Long story short, I'm dogsitting. idek.

Um. What else is happening in my life.

I got stabbed with a needle and some Euthynol. Yes, that does exactly what it sounds like. I'm fine. It was a laugh. Slash I was fucking sick as hell for a few days, but I'm good now.

I accidentally all the Les Miserables feelings I thought I was over. So. That's drastically affecting my quality of life these days. I wrote fic. Yeah, that bad. [livejoural.com profile] cherie_morte has it right now and it preparing to shred it into strips. I'll let you know the progress there.

Almost done (hahah maybe?) my [community profile] apocalypsebang. Needs an ending with a little more horribleness. It's been a pretty flip apocalypse thus far.

I went to the dentist today and apparently now I have to have all four of my wisdom teeth out to prevent all my teeth from exploding at once or something. I was only partially listening. She made it sound scary though.

There goes most of my Wincon money and my tattoo money and my new purse money. I was saving so good, too!

That... is basically it. I'm boring and I have a lot of emotions about dead French revolutionaries and/or Thor's hair.
unavoidedcrisis: dalmatian resting its head on the arm of a couch (resting dalmatian)
I think I am about 70% over my plague death? I really fucking hope so, anyway. Yesterday I walked to the library and back and by the time I got home, I pretty much wanted to die entirely. Today though, I loaded the dishwasher without quitting life, so that's something. Baby steps. Still dizzy as butts every time I move too quickly, and still coughing like a demon constantly.

Also tired. Suuuuuper tired. Just started new anti-depressants and I was told that could make me tired. But like. I'm really tired and I could probably sleep right now? It feels weird. I'm usually exhausted but the insomnia keeps me awake for days at a time. Is that normal, does anyone know if severe sleepfacedness is a side effect of starting anti-depressants?

I watched all of Suits while I was bed ridden. Pretty decent. Gina Torres is flaw-free, so that's the big draw there, I think. Think I'm going to try Arrow? I hear not knowing a shred of backstory is actually helpful. Wah. After I finish Gilmore Girls.

ALSO I finally picked a fandom/idea for [community profile] apocalypsebang, so I'm writing my tail off for that. Maybe it will end up being my only Nanowrimo project and it will be 50k long and I'll be one of those people. lolnope.
unavoidedcrisis: rainbow swoosh with the text "nyarrr" (nyarrr!)
Went to the doctor today because of this persistent douchebag of a cough. It's bronchitis + sinus infection, yaaaaay.

But we were talking about my chest (the inner parts, not the pretty booby parts). Apparently my ongoing problems breathing could have something to do with allergies.

Him: Do you ever have exposure to cats or dogs?
Me: ........................................................................................................ Yep. Both.
Him: Maybe you could go a week without handling them, see how your breathing is from there?
Me: Ummmmmm. Probably not.
Him: Are they non-shedding at least?
Me: Fallacy, there is not such thing as a cat or dog that does not shed at all. All of them shed a little. Even the hairless ones lose the few hairs they do have periodically. Also, they get zits you have to pop. On their butts. Is that really an attractive alternative, people?
Him: *stares blankly*
Me: *stares blankly*
Him: *stares blankly*
Me: But, no, really, I'm not getting away from the pets any time soon.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
Hey guess what, I hate the new LJ releases re: comments. But I'm guessing y'all already knew that. tbh, I'm still unhappy with the "crosspost to FB and Twitter" options. -.-

I had to deal with a stack of student loans paperwork this morning. Now I am made of grumpy feelings.

OH and if that wasn't enough, I've been having about a solid week of those "I am legitimately the most unattractive beast to have ever clumsily roamed the earth" feelings. Seriously, could I be any more repulsive as a human? But instead of feeling fat and ugly and bloated and like I have bad skin and gross teeth, I now ALSO have a cold sore. Because stress is sexy, don'tcha know.

And I fucking hate the sound of my own voice. More than I hate the new way we're supposed to pick icons for comments now, which is saying a lot.

And I hate my new glasses, too. So much for be stoked for them at the shop. They're awful and I look super dumb.

SELF ESTEEM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR EVERYONE. Clearly I was wrong on that one.

PS, Hobbit trailer blew my mind. Glad my browser doesn't try to correct "hobbit." It knows the score :D
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
Sekrit Santa Love Me Times

So I'm officially not getting time off to see my family for Christmas. I'm also working on my birthday. And every other single day between 24 November and 22 December (probably more; the schedule only goes til the 22nd).

Ugh entirely.

Someone brought the cutest Australian shepherd into meet me today. It made me feel a little better.

In hilarious lizard news, my lizards are hilarious. Pepperoni is the world's worst hunter ever. Period. He's still my favourite though.

Here's a video of Gallifrey shedding. Ignore photo-bombing Kiki and my ridiculous laughter.



She's pretty cool. She even lets me pick her up now with minimal biting.

At least I have my pets. ~sigh~
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (very stressful day (chuck))
I have a job interview today. Nothing major, just a little part time gig while I'm in school.

And the very nice lady is asking for my resumé and references. I have a resumé. It's not great, but it's mine. But I don't have an references. I've only ever had 4 jobs, right, so there's not a huge pool to draw from anyways.

The boss at my first job died last year, and I was only a summer student at my second job. My third job fired me and then went out of business and my fourth/last/most recent job has a company policy of not giving out references to anyone (those jerks).

So like. What am I supposed to do with that?

And it's really hurting my chances at getting hired anywhere because I don't have anyone who will jump up and say 'yeah, that Leen, she's really great'. And I AM really great. Damn everything.

Luckily I have one character reference who was also one of my volunteer coordinators from like, 75 million different things back in the day who has known me basically since I was born. So she's always good for a reference. But I feel like bringing in one reference is not very helpful to my chances. It looks like I'm stacking the deck.

*whine whine*

I'll let you know how it goes.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (i'll take you out (raj))
Posted my [livejournal.com profile] spn_hetexchange fic last night. Am so very proud of myself for doing so.

I move on Saturday and I have packed exactly one-and-three-quarters-boxes. But today I realized I actually need to be done packing by lunchtime Thursday because Katie and I are probably going out to the rescue again. Also we're going out for someone else's going away party Wednesday night. And Monday is over. So I have one and a half days to pack my life away.

Pack = garbage, for most of it, it turns out. I am taking all my books and dvds, one hockey bag of clothes and then 5 other boxes. And that's it. I can;t fit anything else in my tiny apartment. The boxes have already been designated -- bathroom, kitchen, McLovin's things, school things, important-to-my-heart-things. Anything that doesn't fit in those categories (and their single, corresponding boxes) gets tossed.

And man, I have a lot of things. Bye things, it was nice knowing you. The packrat in me feels a little twinge when I get rid of things, but for the most part I am feeling okay. It also doesn't hurt that I am in absolute-panic mode because I'm worried the mover will show up with the truck on Saturday morning and I'll be all 'durrrrr, not ready'. And then the mover will hit me with a belt because the mover is my mama and she's been ragging on me to pack for

I also got hydro and internet set up in the new place. Hydro should be on already, but internet doesn't get set up until the 30th. My first day in the new place, new town, new everything living on my own for the very first time and I will be without my safety net, the internet. I guess I'll use that day to wander around town and look at things? I don't know, it's a town of like, 4500 people. What is there to even look at? The lake, I guess.

Saturday -- move in.
Sunday -- look at the lake.
Every other day for the next three years -- look at the lake.

GOOD PLAN GUYS.

Okay, so I'm only MOSTLY freaking out.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (problematic food)
I'm dyin' here guys.

Well, metaphorically, anyways.

Didn't hit anywhere near my goal yesterday. Like shamefully far from it. Hoping for a better night tonight.

I think one of my biggest problems is the sheer number of partially started projects I have and my inability to decide what to focus on. If I could just finish one thing, I have a feeling my sense 'oh god, I am made of suck' will go away a little. I just need that self esteem boost. So, you know, writing about it in my LJ definitely helps. *facepalm*

My other major problem is my inability to get past the fact that Big Bang #2 doesn't have a map. I guess I'm a visual person when it comes to that kind of thing and I am having mondo trouble working on this story without the city mapped out. [livejournal.com profile] epiphanyx7 would be able to fix me. *longs*

Anyways. Back to the drawing board (which is actually a hardcover book and a broken pencil held together with yarn).

425 / 1500

(plus half a map!)



Also very important and the reason I have selected that icon for today's update is the fact that I am hungry and yet unable to eat until Katie gets home. SAD DAY.

unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (already sorry i was born)
I don't think I even have to words to write out the about of 'omg I hate the internet' I am having right now, so I'll just apologize for anything I said to anyone over LJ, AIM, MSN, FB, Twitter or carrier pigeon today. I'm a whiny jerk when I sick, and have pretty much zero filter, especially because the amount of codeine-laced cough syrup in today is astounding. I mean, it's not at 100%; I think a little blood got into my drug-system. I'm not sure.

Anyways. Clinic tomorrow, attempting to sleep now. Frak, it's too hot to be livable right now. FML.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (magical pink umbrella)
Skipping today for the 30 Days of TV Meme because I don't have the energy to do day four's answer justice tonight. Instead, have another meme and a sad story.

Yet Another Music Meme

Rules:

- List the names of 20 of your favorite bands. (I can only think of 15. Sue me.)
- Have people try to guess your favorite song by each of them.
- Bold the ones that were guessed and add the title of the song.


01. Great Big Sea
02. Sloan - Everything You've Done Wrong
03. The Tragically Hip
04. Florence + The Machine - Drumming Song
05. Boys Night Out
06. The Hush Sound
07. Lady Gaga - Speechless
08. Tilly and the Wall
09. Barenaked Ladies
10. The Beatles
11. Kevin Devine
12. Motion City Soundtrack
13. Savage Garden
14. Sam Roberts
15. Taylor Swift - Our Song

That only looks like a weird list to me because I know I listen to a lot of country music, yet I'm not really showing that reflected. I also never realized I listen to so much Canadian content on a day to day basis, but I apparently do.

Also, if I were a MASH character, I'd apparently be 'Trapper' John.

Sad story has cut for icky. )
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (grr -> castiel you did not)
Alright, so this might get whiny.

I know I'm not a great writer. I don't have the flair for the creative like I wish I did. I can't make people cry or laugh or think deep thoughts with my prose. I probably never will. I've long since accepted I am not an all star when it comes to that.

My writing averages about a C-. My very favourite, most proud writing moments might score a C+ or a B-. Not stellar, but average. Enough to get me by.

I woke to a review from FFN (aka: Pit of Voles) in my inbox. I haven't posted anything to FFN since December 2007, and the story that the review was for was from 2004. That's almost six years ago now. I read the story again. It was decent! Like, two spelling mistakes, some extra commas here and there. And it doesn't change tense once through the whole story, which was my biggest problem as a young writer. The characters were believable and followed canon, it had a unique concept and I happen to think it was one of my better-titled works (god, I am so bad at titles).

The review I got?

"Um, WTH is this supposed to be?"

Yeah, maybe I'm just hormonal or something, or pissy because I dislike the holidays, but it irked me. It irked me like the 'you need to move your car' lady irked me. I didn't think anything of it at time, but as the day went on, I got more and more ticked off.

So I deleted everything off my FFN account. Closed down the whole thing. I salvaged what I could from the fiery wreckage of sub-par fanfiction. It'll get remodeled and retitled (I was worse then at titles and I am still shit at them. Scary thought!!) and posted to my writing journal if I am feeling prolific.

It might seem like an overreaction, but it was something I kept meaning to do anyways and this anonymous idiot just pushed me over the edge.

I mean, unsigned, anonymous review, really? I can see not liking a story and wanting to leave concrit for the author, or hating it entirely and not leaving anything at all, but to take the time to respond just to be a big sack of dicks? Yeah, the internet is a hate machine, I know, but it just irritates me to no end.



Oh, and it turns out, I was writing crackfic before it was cool to write crackfic. You might be interested to know I was writing 'so and so is suddenly a dinosaur!! But everyone's okay with it because, come on, it kind of makes sense' before it became The Thing.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (cabbagey answer)
Both of my bras broke sometime in the last 12 hours. I have an emergency back up from Katie, but it doesn't quite fit and it makes me all pointy-chested, which I do not like. So I am braless, for all intent and purposes, until I can spend a whole bunch on getting new ones, which also means getting fitted again, which I also really don't like.

And my allergies are trying to kill me.

Right now, FML.
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (mckellan will fuck your shit up)
So I had a garbage day but then I went shopping and got a delicious Tomatacodo bagel from Mal at the Tea Garden, then I came home and found out the Starkid website was up and I could finally snag the soundtrack, and then we had a large scale medical emergency and my day slid right back down past garbage and straight to the bottom of the barrel (not of monkies, but of garbage).

So to distract myself and because I apparently can't sleep, I bring you this!

Bears, Like I Promised )




All in all, I'm going to chalk this one up as a loss.
-Peter Conroy
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (garfield on a monday)
I am so not pumped for working tomorrow. I've been on the same shift for like... eight months. I do not like this new one, not a little. Today was my shortest day of the week at seven and half hours and it felt like ten. Tomorrow might well try to kill me.

In other news, I have no idea what I'm doing in November. I might take the rest of the year off if/when T.Tech closes on Hallowe'en and head back to school on Second Career in January. I'm seriously considering it. Live on my EI for eight weeks. Not bad, but I don't know.

Everyone tells me to relax about it, but it's a serious, pressing concern that I'm feeling every day. It's very likely that I'm about to be out of work with absolutely no prospects on the horizon.

Apathy is clearly the only way to keep my sanity here.

PSA

Apr. 3rd, 2009 09:33 pm
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
To Whom It May Concern;
aka: Dear Douchebag;

You live in my neighbourhood. I deduced this when I saw you pull into the driveway across the street and get out of your car with groceries.

This means you have probably noticed that our darling little ghetto has no sidewalks. Which, if you have any brain power at all, means there's no sidewalk for me to walk on.

If you can use your eyes (and you were driving a car so I really hope you can) you might have noticed it is absolutely pouring rain. Which means, in our darling little ghetto without the sidewalks, that there are huge puddles running up and down both sides of the street.

So when I look both ways before crossing out into the street to walk around a puddle, don't purposely cut me off, splash me and honk your horn, screaming 'walk on the f--king sidewalk!'

Because not only is it rude and actually impossible given the aforementioned facts, but I just looked both ways and you weren't there, which means you were driving way too fast and the speed limit in our darling ghetto without sidewalks is fifty, asshole.

-Colleen

PS: Do you know how many people in our neighbourhood drive teal Ford Tauruses? Pretty much just you, that's how many. Just sayin'...
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (aerostat)
My previous investigation proves to have given me incorrect information. I cannot participate in distance education for the course I wanted to take and there is only one school in Ontario that offers it in English. The course is not the same in every province.

Well then. That really does change things.

I also have to have a full G driving license before I can even apply. Well that puts September right out, doesn't it?
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
unsent letter full of the bitterness )

oh fuuuuuck

Jun. 6th, 2008 12:35 pm
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
Okay so now I'm crying because Craig confronted me last night about all the stuff that's been going on.

What the fuck.

I should not ever have to cry about stuff like that. And I sure as hell should never have to be treated this badly by anyone who isn't my own damn family.

So then why the fuck am I crying? Guilt? Shock? Loss of something so easily comfortable? Anger?

And now I get to go to fucking work and deal with all the shit connected with that. I like the job, hate the co-workers. God.

And, AND, I might not be moving out this weekend, yipee!
unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (lady and boy)
This holiday sucks. No seriously. It sucks. The only thing that makes me even wake up for it is the food. Roasted red pepper and garlic mashed potatoes, turnip and squash casserole, chocolate cherry trifle, fresh cranberries. And now I'm legally allowed to drink, I can do that without hiding it. Nurr.

The sad reality is I don't even care much for presents anymore. My favourite thing has always been giving them, but I can do it this year. Sure, everyone gets/will get a card, but the only ones getting presents are Trishka and Sorelle. Well, and I bought my Mama a can opener because she needs one. Talk about fancy giving (blah, blah, thought that counts, I know).

I think it'll be mix cds and slashy-porny fanfic for my friends and a can of Fanta for my boyfriend. I think he likes Fanta, anyways. Ehh, I think everyone likes Fanta, on some level.

But because it's probably one of the Christmases with Grandpa, I'm going to be a little angel tomorrow and wait out the bad parts with my babies (damn baby rats make all the bad go away. Silly little fuckers; I'm not supposed to love anything that much.)

So not interested in spending time with my immediate family. I nearly walked out yesterday. My step-dad is a douche and I'm, in all senses of the legal term, an adult now, and I don't need his immature bullshit. Nurrrrr.

So tomorrow I have phone calls to make, rats to spoil rotten, letters to write to American Mangoes, and family to be nice to... Weh I write it out like that, it doesn't look like too much... Right?

Also nine years ago today, my grandmother died. There's another refreshing thought. I think I have to do rounds to the cemetery while I'm still down south here. There are a few people I've never visited who deserve a courtesy call. Yay! Holidays are for graveyards!

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unavoidedcrisis: girl lying on the ground with playing cards scattered over her (Default)
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