Monday, June 26th, 2017 01:44 pm

Lufra has been with us five days now, and he’s nine weeks old today. He’s a lovely, happy smart little guy. He’s already worked out that if I throw the ball and he brings it back, I will throw it again! So he’s learned how to fetch all by himself.

Caring for him has been a welcome distraction from our sadness over losing our cat Cleo so suddenly. D says that joy of life just emanates from that little dog, and he’s absolutely right.

One of Lufra’s favourite things in the world is an uggboot, and here he is with two of mine. I’m very tall and so I have quite large feet, but my boots still give a good sense of how small he still is.

Monday, June 26th, 2017 02:05 am
AGE: 30, soon to be 31


INTERESTS & HOBBIES: I love to read most sorts of books (preferably sci-fi and fantasy) and listen to podcasts (mainly BBC comedy, but also Welcome to Night Vale, the Thrilling Adventure Hour, and My Dad Wrote A Porno). I knit and cross-stitch when I have time and energy. I am a scientist long out of the lab and looking forward to getting back in there. I get inordinately excited by some science things (Epigenetics! Organoids! Developmental biology such as caterpillars turning into butterflies!) but I still can't wrap my head around advanced maths and physics. I'm a feminist and also love to do nail art. I like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, not too interested in newer fandoms even if I enjoy new series and movies and books.

LOOKING FOR: people who post about their life, crafty people, interesting discussions. I've been on LJ since 2004 but feel like I know too many people over there in real life. I'd like to make some cyber friends again :)

ANYTHING ELSE?: I'm mainly using my journal right now to get the toxicity out of my brain so it's mainly moaning and anger. We'll see if I get to use it in a better mood or not. My main problems are anxiety and depression and I'm seeing if regular journalling will make a difference.
Sunday, June 25th, 2017 10:54 pm
 I posted this on tumblr yesterday, and since I want to be able to find it again, I'm also posting it here.


1 October 2002 - 22 June 2017
Let me tell you about my cat Cleo.
For a start, she wasn’t supposed to come to us at all. She wasn’t supposed to live beyond babyhood.
D and I had lost  two fluffy cats over the previous 18 months – one to the untreatable and fatal Feline Infectious Peritonitis, which she’d likely been carrying since she was born, and the other to a long term heart condition – so we were down to two cats and it felt wrong. So we – well, it was mostly I if I’m being truthful – decided to get a couple of short-haired male kittens. We had two middle-aged short-haired female cats at the time, so I thought two boy kittens would be a good balance. I’ve always preferred short-haired cats, and our two previous fluffy cats had come to us from owners who could no longer keep them, so adopting them had been more accident than design.
I found a beautiful grey and white short-haired male kitten online, so we went off to see the lady who was fostering him. She was fostering about half a dozen other kittens as well, so, after a lot of playing with kittens – what a chore! - I chose the grey and white kitten and a short-haired ginger male kitten. Oh, I’m sorry, said the fosterer, there’s another person interested in the ginger kitten. Would any of the other kittens do?
There were a couple of short-haired male tabby kittens, but they were a bit shyer than what I wanted in a kitten. There were also a couple of female kittens, and I kept coming back to look at the little fluffy one. She was a dark tabby, but other than her colouring, her little face looked just like Molly, my fluffy tortie who had died of FIP the year before. It was as if Molly had come back to us, so of course I decided on the little fluffy girl kitten.
Oh, that one, said the fosterer. She’s one of a litter that was on death row at the pound. She’s lucky to be here at all.
I had to wait a week while the kittens were desexed before I could pick them up, and a couple of days before I was due to get them the fosterer contacted me again. The person who’d been intending to adopt the ginger kitten now no longer wanted him, so would I like him instead of the little fluffy girl? 
It was tempting, but I’d made the decision to adopt the girl, so in the meantime she hadn’t been available to other potential owners. So I said no to the ginger, and a few days later I picked up my little grey and white boy and my little fluffy tabby girl.
I called the grey and white boy Harry, after Harry Potter, but I was a bit stuck on what to call the girl. The shelter had named her Princess, and yes, she was one, but I wanted her to have a name from us. So, against my better judgement, I asked D to think of a name for her.  
His first suggestion was Jaeger Panther, after a WWII German tank. When I said no to that one, he gave it some actual serious thought and suggested Cleo as her stable name – but Jaeger Panther would still be her racing name!
So she was officially Princess Cleopatra Jaeger Panther. But she was always just Cleo to us.
Cleo was a bouncy, silly kitten, which irritated Harry, who always took life more seriously. She was also a bit shy with it, though, and I remember having to drag her out from under the couch and make her come and socialise fairly often. Like our previous fluffy cats, she took to D very quickly. Meanwhile, she and I were friends, but not best friends.


This was back in the days when we lived in the Mountains, so I used to let the cats out during the day. I did this gradually once they were a few months old, and always supervised until they were big enough to have enough sense to look after themselves.


One day when Cleo was less than a year old, I heard her crying from near the back door, so I came out to see what the trouble was – and realised the crying was coming from above the back door. She was standing on the edge of the roof, looking down, and clearly had no idea at all how to get down. I knew how she’d got up there, from the embankment by the shed to the shed roof, and then it was just a short leap from the shed roof to the roof of the house. She’d come around the side of the house and explored the roof, and then realised that she had no idea how she’d got there, or how to get down again.
 If you’ve ever had a cat, there have probably been times when the cat has managed to get up somewhere high and then decided it couldn’t get down. So I did what most of us do in that situation: I held out my arms and called Cleo’s name. Usually, in this situation, the cat just looks at you, and eventually gets down by itself. But in this case? Cleo actually jumped, and I caught her.


It was probably around that time that I first started calling her my silly woolly, and little miss fluffy brain, with much love.


When Harry and Cleo were almost five years old, Harry died from kidney failure. It was a terrible blow. He was a lovely, sooky cat, and I was his special human. So then of the two short-haired male kittens I’d intended to get that day back in 2002, I only had the accidental fluffy girl left.


And the accidental fluffy girl grew into quite a big cat. I’ve had fluffy cats that were very dainty underneath all the fur, but that wasn’t Cleo. She was a solid cat, around 6kg in her prime.

She also grew up to be a real character. She was the most talkative cat I’ve ever had. If you said anything to her, she would almost always reply. Repeatedly. And she would often tell you how she felt, whether you wanted to know or not. In her later years, she took to meowing at me non-stop, regardless of what I was doing or if I was in the middle of talking to someone, if she was determined to have some attention Right Then. She got used to me telling her not to yell at me. You can see and hear a video of her talking… and talking and talking here.

She never really got on with the other cats. She did try at first - as you can see in the pics above, with Ebby, who was going through flea allergy problems right then - but I think her body language looked wrong to the short-haired cats. It wasn’t that she was speaking a different language, but it was definitely a different dialect, and in the end she gave up and decided to be solitary. By the time Sasha – a short-haired male ginger kitten at last! - came to us in 2008 and tried very hard to make friends with Cleo, she simply ignored him. However, they both coveted my lap on winter nights, so they would both get on my lap and pretend that the other cat wasn’t there. When I was going through pictures to use in this post, I found a lot along these lines:

Cleo always loved going outside in the daytime. We had a huge, beautiful garden when we lived in the Mountains, and she never went very far. She was an excellent border guard if an intruder!cat happened to come visiting. She liked sitting under a bush opposite the back door – even in the depths of winter, when the short-haired cats didn’t want to go outside. Her woolly coat was perfectly designed for her to live in the Mountains climate.

Less than a year after we moved from the Mountains to where we are now, we lost Ebony, our old black cat. She was almost nineteen years old, and we’d got her as a kitten when we’d first moved in together, so she’d always been the senior cat of the household. And now, suddenly, Cleo was the senior cat. It didn’t suit her. She’d always been a silly, bouncy woolly, and she just didn’t have the gravitas of Ebony. But after a while we got used to Cleo being the oldest, and realised that she was actually starting to get old.


Cleo was also a huge sook, and absolutely adored a cuddle. A few years ago – five? More? I can’t remember for sure – she discovered that I was willing to baby her in ways that D wouldn’t, and she switched her allegiance. Suddenly, I was her favourite person. I would cradle her like a baby and she would purr like a chainsaw – she had a great loud purr. She liked to fall against my chest and tuck her head under my chin. In recent times, her favourite thing was to climb up onto my shoulder when I was sitting in the recliner and flop with her back legs hanging down my chest while she purred in my ear. 
She would also sometimes flop right across my collarbone, and just lounge there as if she really was a feline Cleopatra. I’d usually be chatting to Nym on IM when this happened, and I often couldn’t see the screen properly, or use more than one finger on the keyboard, so Nym would get messages saying things like, “A, tyuping fro undrt woo;;y.”



Cleo used to follow me around, too. A couple of years ago, after never being a Bed Cat – our bed always belonged to Ebony, because she was Top Cat, and then Indy, the grey boy we got after Harry died, inherited it from her when he became Top Cat – Cleo suddenly decided to be brave and stake a claim for part of the bed. But she would only sit on the bed if I was there. I tend to go to bed very late, so Cleo would wait up too, sometimes making pointed comments to let me know that she’d like to go to bed now, please. I often woke up to this view:


She LOVED being the Special Cat, and being allowed to go out onto the patio in the daytime, after several years being an indoor only cat after we moved to our current house. As I said, she was getting old, and she didn’t want to wander. She just wanted to be outside in the garden, and not just in the cat run where Those Other Cats had to go. It’s not the Mountains, but it’s still sub-alpine here, so her thick, woolly coat was perfect for being outside in the winter here, too. And of course it was nice out there in the shade in the summer, too:


And that was our Cleo, and our life with her, until those two pit bulls turned up in our backyard the other day. You can’t possibly blame me as much as I blame myself for letting her outside when the new front fence was being installed, but you just don’t EXPECT a pair of marauding dogs IN YOUR BACKYARD, particularly when you are right there yourself.
This got awfully long, but I’m utterly heartbroken about the way Cleo left us, and I wanted to write down just who she was.
I’ve been talking to dog people recently, in the course of preparing for and getting our new puppy, and one of them mentioned that they thought cats weren’t as individual as dogs, and that cats were all pretty similar.
That hasn’t been my experience at all. D and I have had ten cats over the last – god – 23 years, and they’ve all been absolute individuals. Every cat has been as different as different could be from every other, and none more so than my dear old woolly.
She was with us for fourteen and a half years. Her not being here just feels wrong. I miss her so much. She could be annoying, and I even miss that. I miss her flopping on my shoulder and making my neck hurt from the weight (on my herniated disc – thanks, cat). There is an empty space where my Cleo should be, and nothing will ever fill it.
Goodbye, dear Woolly. We will always miss you.



End note: Sorry this isn't cut! I did try, but I just couldn't get the script to cooperate!
Sunday, June 25th, 2017 10:47 pm
 I posted this on tumblr on Friday.

This week has been a week I’ll never forget, in both good and bad ways.

On Wednesday morning, we finally got our gorgeous little sheltie puppy, Lufra. He’s a little sweetheart, confident and curious and happy as well as beautiful. I took him to the vet yesterday for a check-up, and the vet was very happy with him in every way. The vet introduced Lufra to his own dog, to see how he got on with other dogs. Lufra wasn’t at all shy, but he also wasn’t too pushy or forward in a way that might annoy another dog. Pretty much perfect. He’s going to be a great dog - once we start getting on top of his house training and cat training, anyway.

And that brings me to the other thing that happened on Wednesday.

Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for a while will know that we have a large cat run attached to the side of our house, and that since we moved here a few years ago, our cats don’t go anywhere else outside. The exception has been Cleo, my old woolly cat, who’s been going out to the patio behind the front fence to snooze most days for the past couple of years.

This week, we’ve been having our front fence replaced. The fencing guy was working on the fence on Wednesday afternoon, but there wasn’t much fence there yet. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have let Cleo out, but D and I were also out there, and she wasn’t freaked out by the fencing guy, so when she went to the door and waited for it to open I… let her out. I will always regret that decision. 

I went along the patio along the side of the house to the backyard where D was, to see how he was going with something he was working on, and Cleo followed me. I was just standing there, talking to D, and Cleo was on the lawn nearby, when two large dogs just… appeared. They were American Pit Bulls. They took one look at Cleo and attacked.

D and I both fought back. D got between Cleo and the dogs, and managed to get hold of her, but in her panic she attacked him, and left some deep scratches on his face right near his eye. D dropped Cleo and she ran for the fence. He lost his glasses and had so much blood in his eyes he couldn’t see. I had lost a shoe and fallen over on the grass. Meanwhile, the dogs had caught up to Cleo over by the side fence, so I ran over there, still holding my shoe, and hit one of the dogs with it, over and over.

The fencing guy, who hadn’t heard anything because he was wearing ear protectors, noticed the commotion when things moved over to the fence, and he ran down and threatened the dogs with whatever large tool he was using at the time. Faced by three hostile humans, the dogs finally decided it wasn’t worth it, and retreated.

I grabbed Cleo, who was now going into shock so she didn’t attack me, left D bleeding all over the bathroom, and rushed her to the vet.

I was waiting at the vet’s for ages, but finally the vet came and talked to me. What he had to say gave me cause to hope. Cleo didn’t appear to be as badly hurt as she might have been. Her breathing had stabilised and her lungs were okay. The x-rays showed that her back and pelvis and other bones were okay, too. She couldn’t stand or walk because her back legs couldn’t hold her weight, but he thought that was because of torn muscles rather than anything else. They’d shaved her back end and found several puncture marks, but her thick fur had stopped the dogs from easily sinking their teeth in. The vet was still cautiously hopeful that she would recover, and that I could probably take her home the next evening.

While I was at the vet’s, D called the government’s animal services department and reported the attack. After I came home, I persuaded him to go to a doctor and get patched up. He has some impressive plasters on his face and hands, and will probably have scars, but he’s incredibly lucky that Cleo didn’t get his eye - and also that the dogs didn’t attack us, for that matter. AND that little Lufra was not out there with us. He would have had no chance at all against those dogs.

But our luck ran out. The vet called first thing the next morning (yesterday morning) to say that Cleo had died in the night. He’s still not sure entirely what killed her, because the most likely causes of fatality should have shown symptoms earlier and didn’t, but it’s a good bet that organ failure was involved somehow.

So I have my new puppy, but my dear old Woolly is gone. She was fourteen and a half, and I’d had her since she was a little kitten. She was getting old, but she’d always been in excellent health, and it was entirely possible that we could have had her for another four or five years.

I’ll write a post about her later or tomorrow or in the next couple of days. I still can’t quite believe that she’s just… gone. And I will always blame myself that I couldn’t protect her better, and that I let her out that afternoon - but not as much as I blame the owner of those two dogs.

D heard back from the animal services department this afternoon. They told him that they believe the dogs were involved in another attack later that same evening, and if we see them again we should calll animal services right away.

So here’s hoping they manage to catch up with the dogs and their owner before they have the chance to attack someone else’s beloved pet - or, god forbid, a child.
Sunday, June 25th, 2017 10:14 am
Previously unread.

Second (and last, I think) book in Hamilton's Chronicle of the Fallers sub-series of his Commonwealth books (now up to about N, maybe N log(N), sub-series).

We follow a few main viewpoint characters, some of which were present for the previous book. It's eminently readable and while there's some on-page sex, it's at least pretty much down to "sex happens" rather than stroke-by-stroke descriptions, which is better.

Would I recommend this? I am in two minds, if you've read a bunch of Commonwealth books, this is likely to evoke the same feeling. If you haven't this really is not where to start.
Sunday, June 25th, 2017 09:43 am
some very vague goals for the day

1. get some housework done
2. make progress on writing related projects
3. close many tabs in my browser

at 10pm:
1. bedroom is much tidier and cleaner, two other rooms were vacuumed. some other bits and pieces done
2. ah, bugger. completely forgot about getting on the computer while I still had brain for writing
3. yes! Not all of them, but getting there.
Saturday, June 24th, 2017 10:13 am
Saturday, June 24th, 2017 01:16 am

Like many of you, I am here because other internet channels of communication have failed me.

I am also here because I have soft, misty water colored memories of the great LJ heyday of 2003, meeting new people, and founding communities through the miracle of nascient "social networking"

I am from the United States, but in 2016, I moved to Chile to work as an English teacher. A year later, I am still doing that.

I have lots of pop cultural interests, but don't really focus on those, unless something really catches my eye. Mostly I talk day to day life. Well, that is the theory. The truth is, I don't know totally what I am using this for, just yet. I am hoping a purpose and community will spring up spontaneously.
Friday, June 23rd, 2017 09:13 pm
Name: Halley
Age: 24

A little about me: I'm a female, bi, recent college grad (art/photography). Although I'm currently working part-time at a bakery-cafe. I'm in the middle of trying to navigate life after school (getting a proper car, moving out of family home, etc) :"> I mostly post about day to day life, I use a lot of smileys, generally I'm very friendly and eccentric.

Interests & Hobbies: Reading, drawing, cosplay, comic books, drinking tea all the time, playing video games (rpgs mostly), american history, paganism, folklore, music (everything from Girls Generation to SOAD), Steven Universe, Final Fantasy, DC Comics, Harry Potter, NITW, Disney, Ghibli.......

Looking For: I'm recently getting back into blogging after getting out of my busy college schedule so I want to post regularly and read my friends page more often. Read my about me?
Friday, June 23rd, 2017 05:33 pm
Name: berryandthorn

Age: 20s

Interests & Hobbies: Reading, writing, fairy tales, monsters, folklore, ghost stories, female characters who aren't necessarily likeable; Marvel (mostly the movies and Netflix shows), DC (mostly Batman comics), young adult and children's books, literature and critical theory, Peter Pan, the Monstrumologist series by Rick Yancey; Neil Gaiman, Megan Whalen Turner, Gillian Flynn, Terry Pratchett, and Dorothy Allison; Treasure Planet, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Sicario, The Walking Dead, Turn: Washington's Spies, Don't Trust the B in Apt. 23, LOTR, Star Wars; pirates, history, fanfiction (I don't post any on this account, but I love reading it and I'm always up to discuss my favorites), blogging, crafting (very rarely), libraries, the ocean, psychology and sociology, feminism. 

Looking For: people who enjoy reading, people who write fanfic and/or original fiction, people who share similar interests, people who love creating things, or anyone who's interested! I'm pretty new to DW, so I'm looking to make friends. 

Friday, June 23rd, 2017 05:23 am
hello im Allie! it's not my real name; i just like a bit of anonymity. i've fallen out of blogging (thanks tumblr) so my writing is a bit rusty.

anyway, i am a 20 something currently working in the "it's not free if it doesn't scan ive heard this joke before 6 million times" industry. i went to university, got depressed, dropped out, went back after 3 years and just finished my first year back. hoping i graduate next year (crossing my fingers i don't bail this time) and earn a better living so i can live by the beach with dogs and pursue my dream of owning a small shop on the side.

i have a couple hobbies: baking, going on really long walks, collecting receipts, and playing bad shows on Netflix in the background. i finally got around to watching gilmore girls and the revival. i am also a fan of brooklyn 99 and superstore. im not... a movie person. the last movie i've loved was whiplash. i'm always open to recs, just never sure when i'll get around to them. my to watch list still includes The Godfather.

i'm not at all a picky eater. i love going on food adventures and trying new things. by new things, i mean by going to a new sushi place. i live in Vancouver; i live in an expensive heaven. my ideal food combo consists of sushi, yam fries and matcha-flavoured sweets.

right now, i am learning to let go of my hoarder like ways byway of Marie Kondo and i am liking where it's going. im learning that if i had to re-start uni i would've majored in sociology or psychology. i love observing people. i like going to coffee shops by busy intersections and people watch... but i digress. i tend to be rambly, hope that's ok...

enough to friend?
Friday, June 23rd, 2017 02:49 pm
For my next trick, I will now break a glass into the washing up. Oh, wait, that was my current trick. Okay, for my *next* trick, watch as I gingerly search for the pieces in the soapy water amongst the other washing up.  Farewell Vegemite jar glass. 
Friday, June 23rd, 2017 01:59 pm
After lazing about all yesterday, hoping I was getting enough rest, I then went and ran errands in the late afternoon (acquired 'Mao's Last Dancer' at very acceptable price so youngest could finish watching it as they had missed that class session; dealt with 'need more credit' on youngest's phone; gave in to temptation at a cheap books stall), stopped in at the shops and bought sausages at the butcher and hot chips at the chippy, and then socialised.

And then this morning I dragged myself out of bed and went with artisanat and eldest to deal with shopping. Halfway through, I realised that this had been more of a commitment than I was cut out for, so instead of going with artisanat to the next thing, I flopped in bed and let everyone else do the responsible adult things (mostly putting the cold items in fridge/freezer). Did go with artisanat to get him to work after that, and drove the car home, but have spent the rest of the day so far in bed. Painkillers, coffee, left-overs, and a helpful other individual are all good things, but even put together have not got my pain below three-ish.
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017 08:24 pm
I have some catching up to do. I'm still reading on the bus every day, I'm just behind in listing them.

fantasy / sf / spooky )
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017 10:40 pm
I'm sort of trying to find something...fandom friends, or maybe just friends.

I'm looking for ppl over 18. Preferably towards my end of the age spectrum. Lgbt parents. People into femslash and people who aren't overly into m/m pairing in their fandoms. People who get social anxiety. Poets and writers.

Anyone else. I don't mind

I'm 35, bi, genderfluid, married with a kid. I live in Wales, I work in a pharmacy and write fiction and poetry too. 

I've got five cats and four chickens.

I will always love Stargate (SG-1 and SGA) and Trek (TNG, DS9, VOY) I have passing interests in other and currently love Dragon Age, MCU, Steven Universe, Brooklyn 99. I don't write as much fanfic as I used to still have a lot of ideas peculating up there. I miss being part of fandom though I've always felt like I was on the fringes.

I ship f/f and het mostly, and I read that too but I will write anything. Any pairing. I'm either mental or gifted. Not sure which.

I love old films from the beggining to the 70s. Love MST3K. The new series was great. I love crap films, I hate reboots but I will watch them sometimes.

I have a post here that has more about me if you want to check it out.
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017 03:37 pm

  • Tuesday night, after gaming, did online part of first aid course that I had signed up to almost at the last minute. This was being run specifically for members of the local kink community, but I lobbed in as well because I knew the organiser and I kinda need to get my certification, and I hadn't been doing anything about it.
  • Yesterday, did practical part of first aid course, so I should now have an active first aid certificate. The kink related aspects were really interesting, and it was great to see the trainer really get on board with trying to understand what likely scenarios might have been. Appreciated that they were okay with a random extra in the room.
  • Today, flat as pancake. Except:
  • Knock on front door just before 8:30am turned out to be the painter (who thinks they gave me the wrong day, and I just don't think I put them in the calendar at all. At least one of us is right). Ceiling in spare room now all repaired from the damage from the hot water service people; also the other patch in the ceiling has been painted (I paid for that bit myself). As a result, house is cold, *and* smells of paint (spare room outside door is open and internal door is closed, but the paint smell is still getting to me).
  • Oven repair person was running early; eldest and I did a frantic rush around in the 15 minutes between call and arrival to make the kitchen a bit tidier and so that there was bench space for them to work at. Oven door is in better condition than it was, but has been taken away so that the front glass can be glued back on, because apparently the special heat resistant resin is giving up, and it needs to be done at the depot and cured for ~48 h, so I'll get that back on Monday.
  • Youngest had skate camp Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning - I got bits of my report done during those times.
  • Anything else I'm supposed to have done has slipped through my fingers. Feel like I'm behind on everything - trying to be kind to myself today, and allowing for high pain and low coping because it was inevitable after doing physically and emotionally challenging things all yesterday, but, oh, I'd love to have done Everything.
  • Lotsa rain last night. Suspicious drip sounding noise above my head at some point of the night. Hoping it was dreaming (I woke a few times in the middle of really 'present' feeling dreams).
  • ...and there might be other things, but I have to go collect youngest from the train and take them to dance.
Wednesday, June 21st, 2017 10:20 pm
So, I'm thinking of doing something on here like a daily meme, some kind of friending meme. Really anything to force me to get into the habit of posting here again. I've been so out of the loop. Anyone know of good posting memes going around? Or any 30 days challenges?

life updates )
Wednesday, June 21st, 2017 11:35 pm

It’s the longest day today. Halfway through the year, near as damnit. Might as well take stock.

I said, at the death of the old year (in a private group)

I don’t have any hopes, I don’t have any goals. I’m just marking time between now and my inevitable lonely death, discovered three days after the fact, the cat eating my face.

This has to change, but I don’t have the faintest fucking idea how to change it.

I forgot King Mob’s Rule.

You think about…how hard it seems to change any of it. And then it all changes, like everything else.

My changes have not been the result of Zen Buddhism or twenty tons of TNT (thankfully). Things changed anyway. And, for the most part, they changed for the better.

Trying just makes it worse.

Wednesday, June 21st, 2017 11:17 pm

It was nine months at the start of June; I didn’t think to note it at the time. Things were—and indeed are—on a pretty even keel. I finessed my way out of the burnout, and while I wasn’t as up as I wanted to be, I was, and I still am, on an even keel.

Tonight, the longest night, was the first night I was hit by it in a long time. Stupid shit, looking in one of the kitchen cupboards and thinking “this is Jane’s”, like I have a hundred times since we split, but this time I noticed myself thinking it, and felt shitty because of it. Not for any reason beyond that I do still think it. Because while I’m still thinking that, have I really moved on?

I have no idea. Is it even possible to “move on”? What does “moving on” actually mean? All I can do is move forwards.