black_sluggard | Journal the First (aka, the big heavy one)

Or: A quick and unavoidably stilted update on my life after not posting anything but fic for more than a year.

I seriously never meant to stop journaling. Like most geeks (and especially geeky writers) I love talking about random crap. Unfortunately, several crazy changes happened in my life in the past year that I guess were too much to talk about at the time that they happened. At the same time, nothing else really seemed relevant if I couldn't talk about those things first. So...

Let's get all that out of the way.

The first and largest of these changes was the loss of my grandmother last March.

This has been tough, because my grandmother had always been an important person in my life. When I was a kid, she was the axis around which my whole family turned, everyone converging on her home every Easter and every Christmas for as far back as I can remember. When I was about fourteen or so my family moved in with her, so she's been a fixture in my every day life for a good half of it. Castle was our show to watch together every week, back before it became my fandom obsession. Later my attempted shot through art school made it impossible to keep the ritual going, and by the time it became possible again my interest in the show had decayed, and though I tried a few times to find another show we could watch together like that, but nothing ever clicked.

I spent the last few months of her life taking care of her, and I'm glad I got to have that time. Maybe that's one of the reasons that I took her loss fairly well. I wasn't sure beforehand that I was going to. I learned through the deaths of my uncles that I'm one of those people whose grief is for the other people mourning than for the person lost. It's hard for me seeing people hurt. It was hard seeing my grandmother in pain when she was alive. Now that she's gone she doesn't feel that pain any more. I miss her, but I'm not sure that's really the same as grieving.

What did feel like grieving was what I felt for everyone else missing her. It was hard for my mom, and seeing my mom lose her own mother hurt a lot. It also hurt knowing that, with all likelihood, this was where my extended family as I had known it most of my life would start to break apart. My mother's relationship with her sister and remaining brother have been strained for a very long time. Though my aunt still keeps in touch, we probably won't hear from my uncle or most of my cousins ever again.

The second big change was the eviction of two of our long-term house guests.

Tony was a work-friend of my mother's several years ago. When he hit hard times, he was allowed to stay with us. This situation was not unusual—my family has been extending a hand to friends like this for as far back as I can remember, and when I was in fourth grade, the same favor was extended to us, so I've never really seen this as a problem.

Unfortunately, in this instance, it did eventually become a problem. Through a complicated set of circumstances, Tony wound up bringing Adrienne and Leeanne with him (not directly, and not on purpose, but it happened). Though it was always supposed to be temporary until they could find their own place, the three of them wound up staying with us for several years. In the course of those years, they came to feel at home, to the point where Adrienne started taking in dogs to rescue, and inviting her own friends over to stay. It was through this that we wound up, at one point, hosting a total population of eleven adults and one child (Myself, my parents, my grandmother, my sister and her boyfriend, plus Adrienne, Tony, Leeanne, Adrienne's friend Creeper, Creeper's girlfriend Lina and their newborn baby Carmen), and five dogs (my parents' dog, the dog that eventually became my dog, Creeper's dog, and two dogs that Adrienne had rescued).

It was very overwhelming, and also very difficult. It was very hard on my dad, who since his stroke has not handled either confrontation or stress well, and with that many people packed into one cramped space, confrontation was happening all the time. My mom was spending a lot of time holed up in her room to avoid it, and wound up (I'm convinced) falling into a depression. Neither of them wanted to kick the others out—because they had been friends, and because it would cause a lot of drama—but it was obvious that they didn't really want them there either.

For my part, one thing I never really told anyone was that the situation was a heavy factor in the issues I felt when I was attending art school (the stress and anxiety which had me thinking suicidal thoughts and basically scared the ever-living hell out of me). School was good just to get out of the house, but the bus fair to get there every day was a significant expense at the time ($6 a day three times a week might not seem like much, but when you've got that many, and most of them smokers, there aren't a lot of funds to go around).

Most of the paranoia I was feeling at the time was because of feeling watched and judged—mostly by Adrienne. There were a few times when I hid in my room with the lights off and curtains shut, and just basically tried not to let anyone know I was still home—I hoarded food in my room so I could do that if I didn't feel like going in.

It was just not a situation that was good for anyone. It had to end, and it would have been nice if that could have happened without hurt feelings, but apparently it just wasn't possible.

In the end, my mom had Kenna file evictions for Adrienne and Tony. Leeanne was allowed to stay, because one of the dogs Adrienne had taken in had lived in our yard for basically all her life, and my parents didn't want to put her out of a place to stay. The fact that Leeanne, being close friends with Adrienne and upset to see her go, was still here continued to be the source of a lot of stress, but I'll get to that a little later.

The third big change was my sister, Kenna, moving to Washington state with her boyfriend.

My mother has issues with abandonment, owing to the fact that my half-brother is an utter dickwad who refused to visit or call or send a letter for more than ten years. They've tentatively gotten back in touch since my grandmother's memorial—but as far as I'm concerned, he is still a dickwad. So when Kenna decided to follow her boyfriend when he moved back up to Washington to live with his mother, my parents didn't take it very well. There was a lot of hurt feelings. A lot of mistakes as far as how it was handled. My dad was basically inconsolable for about a week in one of his emotional spells, which caused him to lash out at me and my mom. Sometimes he didn't remember that Kenna had already left and he'd ask where she was.

It wasn't pretty. We survived it, though.

Because Kenna—unlike my dickwad brother—has managed to keep in touch consistently. She calls almost every night. She made a promise to make it down for Christmas, and she kept it. My dad managed to be civil to her boyfriend while they were down here (okay, he still referred to Destin as "Dickhead", but my dad's the kind of guy who can do that in a friendly way). He even gave the guy a hugthe night they left to go back, so...

All in all, I think that situation is going pretty well.

Just a few days prior to Kenna's visit, Leeanne, our final hold-out in the housemate department, finally departed our company.

This was precipitated, of all things, by an argument about leaving the garage door open. This is not a small issue, as my house has no central heat, and high ceilings, and leaving a door open represents money lost to the electric heaters we use to keep warm. Leeanne, unfortunately, has never been the type to respond to criticism, suggestions, or...well, common sense very well. Anything that a rational person might understand as having been intended to be helpful, she tends to perceive as an attack. As long as I have known her, she has been impossible to argue with or convince about anything, even the simplest of things, and when confronted or asked about things, tends to either deny responsibility or attempt to pin it on someone else.

So...somehow, having my mom tell her not to leave the garage door open turned into Leeanne agruing that on the fact that she couldn't see that she had, because my mom was turning off the lights in the back yard at night. (Leeanne's "room" was an adapted shed in our back yard. Leeanne would leave every morning and come home late at night, and leave the lights in the yard on all day, which wastes electricity and money.) My mom pointed out that there was a light switch in the garage. Leeanne asked how she was supposed to know that. (She's only been living here for seven years.)

From there the argument got pretty stupid, and Leeanne copped an attitude and started spouting irrational crap, bitching about her kicking Adrienne out, and accusing my mother of using her and stealing.

What my mom said at this point was: "Get out of my house." What she meant was that Leeanne needed to get out of the house and go to the room she pays rent for out back. What Leeanne apparently heard was that she was being kicked out too (which she wasn't, legally we couldn't, because she was paying rent, but you know how much rational thought matters when you're throwing a fit, so whatever). And that night she bundled a bunch of clothes together, took her dog, and left in a huff.

Whatever. Leeanne can go find something to sit on and spin to her heart's content. I just hope the dog is doing alright.

She has yet to come back for her other things. Adrienne wasted a lot of the time she had to get her things (I don't think she thought my mom would put her foot down about the eviction) so a lot of them are still here. I'm hoping that whenever they do show up to claim their stuff that it goes peacefully...

Unfortunately, as a Browncoat, I'm painfully aware that things never go smooth.

So, from that population of eleven adults and five dogs, we've dwindled to just the three of us—my parents and myself. It's...been really nice, actually. Apart from missing my sister it's been really peaceful. And money isn't so tight any more. It's not abundant, but for the most part we aren't biting our nails about whether there will be enough money for cigarettes at the end of the month. Which, as a non-smoker, means I can stop caring whether anyone has cigarettes, because I don't have to deal with nine people suffering synchronized nic-fits in an enclosed space. We actually have food left that we bought earlier in the month. Including some of the instant, microwavable stuff that used to be gone by the 15^th of every month. Two gallons of milk? Usually lasts for a decent amount of time now (which is great, because milk is expensive and having people waste it, and then give attitude when you complain is agonizing in the extreme).

Honestly, the hardest part has been to adjust quantities when I'm making dinner.

Finally, for anyone who still remembers, Honey the Terror-Hund is still living among us.

Honestly, at this point I can't believe I could have ever wanted it otherwise. During the time my grandmother was sick, Honey was just about the only thing that kept me sane. No matter how bad my grandmother was feeling, Honey could put a smile on her face. The same thing was true of my dad when Kenna left. This dog is better at keeping a schedule than I am, so she has kind of forced hers on me—which is good, because without having a schedule or deadline, I don't usually tend to do anything. But she gets me up in the morning (usually before 9 a.m.), and drags me out of the house for a walk at least once a day (she's very insistent about it). She doesn't let me forget her breakfast or her dinner (I'm a scatter brain, this would otherwise be a problem).

She's a pushy, hyper, intelligent, weird little beast, and I don't know where I'd be without her.

[New photos pending.]

So...that's it, I suppose. For the big stuff, anyway.

It's kind of a coincidence that I'm wrapping this up on January 1^st. I hadn't intended that. But while I'm here, I guess I might as well list some of my goals and resolutions, such as they are.

As stated, I intend to start actively keeping my journal again. Probably not every day. Maybe weekly, or when there's something relevant to say. Even if it's stupid shit like music or fic recommendations. I miss doing that.

I'm going to try to keep more organized—which is to say, I suppose, attempt to be organized at all. Maybe start keeping lists. Possibly post them here—I do enjoy reading game_byrd's to-do lists from time to time, so I might give something like that a try.

This list probably counts as a start to #2. Though it probably doesn't actually work as a list item in and of itself. Oh well...

Work out a pecking-order for the fics I have unfinished, and actively work on them based on that pecking-order (as much as that is possible). But that shit has got to get done.

Fulfill a few of the friendship obligations I've been shirking—specifically, I need to put some real effort into restructuring my online Ravenloft D&D game and playing that MUD that I've been promising Z I would do.

Anyway. Here's hoping that 2014 is better than 2013—because it's frankly terrifying to imagine that it could be any worse.

Journal the First (aka, the big heavy one)

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