Despite just getting Juno a few months ago (And, for those wondering, her Service Dog training is going on fabulously! She is incredibly attentive and aware), my mother and I have decided we're interested in another large/giant-breed puppy. My mother is dead-set on a German Shepherd, though I've tried to discourage her left and right because of their innate health issues. We have an application pending with the local GSD rescue, though they told me they have no dogs available at the moment, they're expecting a litter soon.

We're going today to look at the nearest shelter, to see if anything leaps out at us in the meantime, and will check another rescue tomorrow if we don't find anything there. Exciting! I'm enthusiastic, because I like puppies--and Juno could certainly use a playmate.

Wish us luck!

....Don't answer your PMs about progress on your pieces? It's been around a month for two bits art I've paid for. I'm fairly good about not spamming people for progress. A PM once, MAYBE twice a week. I know they're active here, they're posting personal art and journals. So, that means they're ignoring my PMs, and that REALLY pisses me off.

I understand how the creative process works, I know some times you can't draw, or don't feel it, and need to work on personal shit. But I'd at least like a courtesy message, y'know? You've got my money, you owe me something.

/end rant

How do you function on them? Did they work? Did they zombify you? I've been suffering severe bouts of depression most of my life(since my early childhood), and I'm finally buckling down and considering treatment-- I've always avoided medication out of fear. I'd love some feedback.

I don't know if I can do this to myself again. I went through hell in my childhood. Always the ass-end of everything. Even in comparison to ex-con, alcoholic, drug-addicted brother: I am the family failure. I've never been a druggie, never been in any trouble with the law. Paid my bills, and did good for so many years on my own. I never popped out any kids, never milked the system.

But I'm the failure. Reminded again, and again, that I was my father's biggest mistake. How on his deathbed, he regretted everything. Every time there's a single problem, that's the first thing that exits her mouth.

I just want to curl up into a ball and stop existing. It makes me feel so worthless. And that's all I've ever felt with my mother. It's always been like this. Always. And I can't do anything for her that would make it any different.

Osama Bin Laden: World Hide 'n Go Seek Champion 2001-2011.

I've gotten so many of these, I can't even sit and calculate it all. Goddamn.


(x) Smoked.
(x) Drank alcohol.
(x) Cried when someone died.
(x) Been drunk.
(x) Had sex.
(x) Been to a concert.
(x) given a handjob.
(x) gotten a handjob.
(x) given a blowjob. (female blowjob ? :D)
(x) gotten a blowjob. (see above)
(x) Been verbally/sexually harassed.
( ) Verbally/sexually harassed somebody.



(x) felt someone up and/or been felt up.
(x) Laughed so hard something came out of your nose.
( ) Cheated on a boyfriend/girlfriend before.
(x) Been cheated on by a boyfriend/girlfriend.
(x) Been to prom.
(x) Cried at school.
(x) Gotten lost in a WalMart or a department store.
( ) Went streaking.
(x) Given or received a lap dance.
(x) Had someone of the opposite/same sex in your room.



(x) Had someone of the opposite sex sleep over.
(x) Slept over at someone of the same sex's house.
(x) Kissed a stranger.
(x) Hugged a stranger.
( ) Went scuba diving.
(x) Driven a car.
(x) Gotten an x-ray.
(x) Hit by a car.
(x) Had a party
( ) Done serious drugs.



( ) Played strip poker/darts.
( ) Got paid to strip for someone.
(x ) Run away from home.
(x) Broken a bone. (Almost every other month, man.)
(x) Eaten sushi.
(x) Bought porn.
(x) Watched porn.
( ) Made porn.
(x) Had a crush on someone of the same sex.
(x) Been in love.


(x) Made out.
(x) Laughed so hard you cried.
(x) Cried yourself to sleep.
(x) Laughed yourself to sleep.
(x) Stabbed yourself.
(x) Shot a gun
( ) Trash talked someone and then acted like their best friend the next day.
(x) Been online for 9 consecutive hours.
(x) Watched TV for 9 consecutive hours.
(x) Watched an animal die.



(x) Watched a person die.
(x) Kissed and/or messed around somewhere with at least 1 person.
(x) Pranked somebody.
( ) Put somebody in the hospital.
(x) Snuck into someone's room and/or your own room after being out.
(x) Kissed somebody of the same sex.
(x) Dressed punk.
(x) Dressed goth.
(x) Dressed preppy.
(x) Been to a motocross race.



(x) Avoided somebody.
(x) Been stalked.
(x) Stalked someone. OH HO HO
(x) Met a celebrity.
(x) Ridden a horse.
(x) Cut yourself.
(x) Bungee jumped.
( ) Ding dong ditched somebody.
(x) Been to a wild party.



(x) Got caught stealing something.(I was five, damn it.)
(x) Kicked/punched a guy in the balls.
(x) Stolen a boyfriend/girlfriend from a friend.
(x) Gone out with your friend's crush.
( ) Got arrested.
( ) Been pregnant.
( ) Made a girl pregnant.
(x) Babysat.
(x) Been to another country.
( ) Started your house on fire.
(X!)Had an encounter with a ghost. THIS.



( ) Donated your hair to cancer patients.
(x) Been asked out by someone that you never thought you'd be asked out by.
(x) Cried over a member of the opposite/same sex.
(x ) Had a boyfriend/girlfriend for over 3 months.
(x) Sat on your butt all day.
(x) Ate a whole carton of ice cream all by yourself.
(x) Had a job.
( ) Gotten cut from a sports team.
(x) Been called a whore.
(x) Danced like a whore



(x) Been mistaken as older than your own age. (vise-versa. i look like a 17 y/o
(x) Been in a car accident.
(x) Been told you have beautiful eyes.
(x) Been told you have beautiful hair.
( ) Raped somebody.
(x) Danced in the rain.
(x) Been rejected.
( ) Walked out of a restaurant without paying.
(x) Punched someone/slapped someone in the face.
(x) Been raped. ( Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it.)

So, for the first time in ten years, I went to the dentist. I was in a car accident five years ago that shattered a lot of my teeth. Due to monetary issues and fear, I never went to the dentist. Now that I'm actually doing well, I finally went.

All in all, it went a lot better than expected. Ten extractions to do, and three were done today. The dentist was incredibly kind, nice and caring. I've NEVER had a dentist spend so much time numbing my mouth. Except for the wisdom tooth, I felt nothing. But my nerves are wired weird in the back of my jaw. So it wasn't dead enough and I had to have him stop and shoot me up more. His assistant was holding my hand and soothing me the whole time.

Herein lies the issue: Large, jagged chunks of bone were left behind. The first one I pulled out was literally the size of my pinky-tip, and just as thick. The second and third were smaller, but left large amounts of damage. My mother, an RN, tried to extract another massive piece that was cutting into my gums-- but it just sank deeper and made me jump. My poor Service Dog was in a state of panic; Juno kept bouncing from me to my mother, as if asking why she wasn't making me stop hurting.

I've got so much vicodin in me, I shouldn't be conscious-- but the pain is keeping me up.

For the very first time ever, I had a cat declawed. My new house has all antique Victorian furniture, and the only way I could keep the cats safely in the house was to have them removed. I've never been an advocate of it, but the surgery has come a long way over the years.

What are your opinions?


Edit: For those going 'OMG THAT'S HORRIBLE', it was the only option to keep my fur-babies. Both have extreme medical issues, and allowing them to be rehomed would put their lives at risk. People in this area don't treat pets as members of the family. This little town is heavily populated by farmers with the mentality that 'a cat is a cat'. If they knew how much money I've poured into Bo and Rogue, they'd have shit themselves.

First: I got a call late Friday evening from my mother. She's got some whiplash and minor back injuries, but will be alright. Insurance totaled-out the truck, but they mechanic was able to repair it make it road-trip worthy. She should be here later in the afternoon.

Tuesday is clean/finish the last bit of packing day -- and the day I go pick-up my puppy, Juno. I've done a lot of cleaning, and packing, but there's still some to do. Most of my second PC is packed up, my main one is still out and about. I'll be without internet about a week or so. Hopefully less, but I'm not holding my breath.

My mother was in an accident coming up to get me. The steering went out on the truck, and she went off the expressway. I don't know what's happening. I don't know what condition she's in. I got the call half an hour ago. I puked, showered, and now I'm sitting here crying.

I've been trying to call her all day. We talk a lot. I always get a call around noon, and then about 5. I didn't get them.


I just want my mom to be okay.

It kills me not to know this but I've all but just forgotten
What the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them
As the telling signs of age rain down a single tear is dropping
Through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten
There is no reconciliation that will put me in my place
And there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds
But seldom do these words ring true when I'm constantly failing you
Like walls that we just can't break through until we disappear

So tell me now
If this ain't love then how do we get out?
'Cause I don't know
That's when she said I don't hate you boy
I just want to save you while there's still something left to save
That's when I told her I love you girl
But I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have..

Look no further! Go see how fantastic they are!:  bartonstroud

So, when I was picking out Juno, I happened in on a conversation between Ms. Childs and another member of the National Borzoi Rescue Foundation(of which she is co-founder). They've been dealing with one Kennel for over a year, trying to collect all of the dogs.

Thirty years ago, this was easily a wonderful breeder. But time and hubris changes everything.

They seized 48 dogs. They had been kept in crates that were too small for so long that they couldn't stand up straight; their back and hind-feet had atrophied, and they were stuck in a perma-crouch. One dog's tail had been chewed off by rats, and he couldn't move to chase them off. Massive, open sores. Infections that had rotted-out eyes. The pictures were some of the most horrific things I have ever seen in my life. People think that the images of the Pit Bull thrown out in the trash were bad? They have NO idea.

Because this breeder's daughter was a lawyer, they couldn't take any dogs they wouldn't willingly surrender without a major legal battle-- which the Foundation can't afford. Which has left about ten-to-twenty pregnant bitches and 'show stock' at the kennel. Likewise, it has been stated multiple times if the Rescue posts information about the acquisition of the dogs or the state of the kennel, they will sue the NBRF for slander.

They've rallied themselves a pity-party of the uniformed owners of their dogs, convincing them that the Foundation is merely attacking the kennel for no reason. They have no idea how badly the kennel's level of care has declined. Or simply choose to be ignorant to it. It makes me sick.

WARNING, IMAGES OF INTENSE ABUSE BELOW:

http://i691.photobucket.com/albums/...../burningbri…
http://i691.photobucket.com/albums/...../burningbri…
http://i691.photobucket.com/albums/...../burningbri…

These are the LEAST disturbing images I could find. The others were just.. I couldn't do it.
Pictures belong to the NBRF.

Man. I expected many things, when I went to visit the breeder, but not what I got. Like any responsible kennel, it was spotlessly clean, scentless, and did not sport many dogs. Puppies were housed separately from the adults, yadda yadda.

Very good.

Without so much as batting an eye, Mary allowed me to go off on my own and enter the puppy-run to meet the litter. Ten! TEN WIGGLING, HAPPY BODIES AND NOSES PREPARED TO JAB MY EYE OUT!

It was a great day.

The boy kitty survived, miraculously. It was, thankfully, just a stomach-bug, and he recovered in 24-hours. However, I did manage to get bloodwork done, and one of the kittens (the girl I've kept) has Kidney Disease. The prognosis isn't great, but we're working through it. The biggest issue is her inability to put on weight. I have tried everything I can think of to put pounds on her, but nothing sticks. At eight weeks, she's still only a pound.
Everyone else, including the mother, went to new forever homes.

So I'm down to my little girl, Rogue-- and my other Special Needs cat, Bo(I call him my Derpface a lot, because he's missing a chunk of his lower-jaw and his tongue just hangs there).


Now, to other news. I have qualified for a Service Dog, and will be choosing a puppy on Weds. I could have selected any breed, but eventually settled on a Borzoi. The breeder locally often donates her pet-quality dogs to the Service programs, so when I spoke with her, she was amazingly helpful and genuinely happy to meet me, and has put an entire litter on hold until I pick one out of them. I have to pay full-price for the dog, but once registered, the state will reimburse me for the purchase. Kind of a neat system. Mary sent me pictures of each puppy in the litter, and I feel a huge pull to two. One brindle female, and a golden male. The male would be my first choice, but I'm so terrified I won't be able to bond with them. Since the loss of my Jonah, I've had a hard time with dogs.

No other dog is my JoJo. No other dog seems as good, or as loving, or as special as he was. I used to jokingly refer to Jonah as my fuzzy-soulmate. But, in all reality, he really was. That dog, after my car accident, helped me to walk again. He saved me from a mugging, twice, and was the light of my life through so many hard and terrible years. When he passed, it felt like something just shutdown in me. I've tried one another dog after him, about a year later. But it just didn't work, and he was rehomed.

I'm terrified that I'll get this puppy, and we won't even be able to complete the Service Training, because we won't mesh. Or that it's me, that I've lost my ability to connect with dogs. I love them. I attract them like a magnet. And maybe the fear is irrational-- but it's an anxiety so deep I'm trembling each time I dwell on it.

The male kitten is showing the symptoms now. The vomitting and pained squeaks. I just didn't make enough money in time. I'm going to lose him, too. I can't fucking stop crying.

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/5371396/

My baby, Glory, died last night-- of something, I as a former Vet-Assistant, did not pick-up or even recognize. I am terrified it may spread to the rest of my litter. But, due to being on a forced, unpaid medical leave for the past month, I have no funds.

Thusly, I am opening for fast, emergency commissions. 5$ for a bust sketch, or random grab-bag for less. Pay what you can.

My paypal is For.Lack.of.Wit[a]gmail.com

Please send your payment after a note with references--and please, do put your FA name in the Paypal notice so I can keep track.



There are unlimited spots for sketch commissions.




1) KusacWolf - Waiiting.
2) NinjaShark - Paid ~ in progress.



I may also open for color pieces. So don't hesitate to ask me for more. The kittens need about 300$ in blood screenings(which I expected, having been a tech), but during the consult I was told it was needed upfront.


---


ART THEFT:

Taken care of!

That's right. I ordered a doll; she's being made into Valista. I need to figure out how to make some clothing for her, and the basic body-blushing and modification. The company I ordered from is relatively new, but well-received. But, they have a habit of stringing the dolls too tight. So, I need to learn how to do that.

SO EXCITING.

I just finished Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. SHORTER THAN EXPECTED BUT SO FUCKING AWESOME. CESARE, YOU SEXY INCESTUOUS FUCK. UNF.

Spiritually. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

I am so, so tired of pretending, of lying, of crawling.

And you, acting like everything is like it was, like everything is shiny and perfect-- treating me like suddenly I matter again. And there I am, confused, hurting, and waving the broken heart in my hands at you-- notice this, notice that I'm right here, still in love with you.

But I sit here, too, and lie. Faking my laughter and amusement, faking that I'm sated with this. That the roleplay, and disjointed conversation is enough. Lies, all of it.

I can't be happy. You stole that from me. You took away my ability to be happy on my own. I used to be a stronger person. I used to have something in me, that gave me the strength to just pick up and walk away; it's gone now. It's been gone a few years.
I don't remember what it feels like to be happy, just for the sake of it. To not hate myself, my life, the place I'm in. All I feel is hate, and bitterness, and this painful tightness that keeps making me sick to my stomach. I will never have it again by myself. I will never be able to just pick up and start over again.

I had a breakdown tonight. I sat on the floor at work, and just sobbed. Because this is yet another birthday—and few months of holidays-- alone. You left me alone, at the worst point of my year. Right after the death of the one family member that meant something to me. That cared about me.

I don't need a 'friend'. I need someone that loves me. I need someone to whisper things into my hair and hold me while I cry. I need someone I can trust with all of the things that tighten up my chest and make it had to carry through my day.

You can turn to /her/, or your family, or those little 'friends' you cling to. I lost all that. I have no one. No one that wants to hear this. No one that will. I burnt every bridge. And I'm supposed to sit here, and try for you, stand there next to you-- when you abandoned me. The irony is, you once described your character being a stepping stone, for all those people in his life.
That's me. I am always the pathway to something else. Walked on for a few years, until there's a better path in sight. You're just another set of footprints down my spine. And I can't do it again. I can't sit here, loving you, and let you use me to move on.


Maybe I'll feel better after I sleep. Maybe this feeling will go away, and I'll stop sobbing. Sleep seems to be the blanket for all things. I hope that's true of this. But right now, I just hope I don't wake up



You've done the most horrible thing I can ever imagine:





You've turned me into you.

You destroy the thing you love,
even though you know it's wrong.

I have spent most of my life losing. I've simply slowly come to grips with the fact that there is nothing lasting for me. Like the change of seasons, I will pass through each of them alone-- watching everything around me grow and shift, as I erode under the weather.
There is only so much one can take, before they hit the glass ceiling. The culmination of ache and loneliness, and despair. I've faked my happiness for years, for the sake of 'friends' that walked away like the turning leaves. Transient and temporary, as all else is for me.
But there are some people that you don't want to go. That you cling to and fight for that--no matter what you do to wash them away-- dig under your skin, and leave a stain etched in your veins. I let others step out of my world after being with me half of my life. I've made enemies out some of them. Others, just vanish into the river of names that flows through my mind on occasion. I don't want that to be this. I don't want to cast my heart into the water with all the ghosts.
But doing anything else is like another suicide attempt. I can't do that to myself anymore. I am not that strong, and I am not that able.

I'm burned out down to the core-- and there is nothing left to heal. The past week has been like a daze. There's the waking world, a fuzzy clouded place—and sleep. Sleep, where every wound reopens itself and I wake with a tear-damp pillow. I go from Sleep and the World with no real notable transition.

The only thing deviating from these two-worlds was a phone-call from my mother-- some distant voice on the edge of my mental-river, like a whisper over the crash of waterfall. She told me, finally, that she was putting my step-father in hospice. And for the first time in fifteen years, seemed happy. Because she had been a slave-- trapped in a house, with a man she truly didn't love, but turned to because he filled the emptiness my father left. And I realized, that is going to be me. The one precious love in my life has come and went, and left me. There will be nothing else, except some paltry attempt to put a plug in the hole that's bleeding me dry.

I will never be able to live past this love. The memory of it. The soft whispers into a receiver that carried me through years, a promise for something better.

'We're going to meet, we're going to be together. I know it. And I'm going to kiss you.'

Lies. All of it.

And, no matter how much you want to deny it: You're a liar. A user. A hypocrite. And a sadist. You're even lying to yourself.

You need your best friend? I need the one person that loved me. I need my best friend, and you turned your back on me again.