urbandruid

Gods, what a week.

I had, as usual, about a billion things I'd meant to have done by now. But between the major history test I had Tuesday, and the stuff with the cat, I just haven't had time (or felt up to doing anything much.)

We've had the cat less than two weeks, and for a while now it's been pretty obvious that she doesn't like something she's eating. Poor kitty had dry heaves and baaaaaad gas, so we took her to the vet yesterday afternoon. I was worried about her all day, I could hardly even eat. The cat (her name is Samantha) was rather traumatized by the whole vet thing, though she was pretty good when they gave her two shots, and then we still had to make another stop- to buy her some new pet food. She likes the new stuff very much- it's some kind of gourmet pet food made with real tuna, and she pretty much inhales it.

So, Sam is doing better, I survived the test...

...and tonight Mom and I are going to see Bon Jovi in concert. Have to leave in about half an hour. Ahhhhhhhh!!!

I have one more ficlet to write for licenseartistic for last month. Oops. I'd meant to do them Tuesday after the test, and type them up when I got home, but I was too freaked over the cat to write. I got one done last night, and two today. That still leaves one. I know what I'm doing for the fic, I just have to write it out. Which, of course, I don't have time to do now.

I think there was something else I was going to say, but I can't remember it now. Catch you guys later!

I was too tired this morning to mention the one thing I really wanted to say about the Matchbox 20 concert. The concert itself was great- but. Words cannot express the horror and vileness that was the opening act, Fountains of Wayne. They're beyond awful and into torturous. Really. The same lyrics over and over, pretty much. Some music that might not have been too bad, but then they started singing and screwed it up. If anyone's had the misfortune to hear that gods-awful song "Mexican Wine", that's them.

Now imagine half an hour of that. I very nearly threw up.

'Course, I was just sitting there making sarcastic comments to Mom on one side of me, or exchanging "what the hell is this crap?" looks with the woman on my other side. And watching the beer go by.

Yeah. New arena; don't know what I'm doing yet. We had the aisle seats. By the stairs, and the damned railing right in my line of vision. Swapped seats with Mom so it wasn't quite as bad, but still- note to self. Never ever again. I'll tell you, though, watching these people stagger up and down the stairs- we're up, we're down, oh look, more beer- hilarious. When it wasn't as annoying as hell. And from the aforementioned staggering, these people did not need any more beer. Really.

Hanging out in the hall before math today (okay, leaning against the wall trying not to fall asleep) I heard two girls in my class talking about the concert, which neither of them went to.

"Oh, who was it?"

"Um....let me think... 3 Doors Down."

*bashes head against wall* Yeah. 3 Doors Down. *scoff*

I know, I know; I'm bitchy. Long day, which I'm almost too tired to talk about, but will try to summarize anyway.

We have new monitors (and now, computers) in my computer lab. Good, you think? Yeah. Except that the new monitors are flat screens; more expensive than the old monitors, and thus bolted to the desk, way too far back for me and my eyes, especially when you factor in a keyboard drawer that really has to be pulled out to work properly. And I couldn't convince the techs, who were in the room today hooking up the new CPUs, to move the monitor.

"Can you maybe move this forward a bit and screw it back in?"

"No."

And it wasn't a polite no, either, it was a really rude no.

My dorky teacher came to my defense, trying to explain that I'm visually impaired.

"How visually impaired?" asks the tech.

Ugh! Do you really want the complete medical history which a.) is none of your business and b.) you probably wouldn't understand anyway? Visually impaired enough that I need the monitor closer, or the font size on the computer bumped up a notch or two, jackass.

Yes, it is Wednesday, thus, my crackhead counselor's walk-in day. I tried to get in to see her as soon as I could, but she was backed up from some damn appointment that went over. I skipped my lunch break to sit in the damned office and wait, and decided I'd like enough time to buy a candy bar from the vending machine and run to computers. Idiots at Disabled Students told me to come back at 3:00. So I did.

"Is X still here?"

"Um, no, she's in a meeting with the dean..."

Great. Can I tell the dean about her, um, attendance issues? Shit. So fine. I wait for her to get out of her meeting with the dean; ten minutes, which isn't bad, but then she says she can't see me, because she's late for another meeting.

And the topper? She's taking off for a two-week vacation starting Monday. I hate, loathe, despise this woman.

I want her job, though.

So she's promised to work me in at noon on Friday. She offered to try to squeeze me in on Thursday, but I don't go to campus on Thursdays, and I have no desire to inconvenience myself so that she can put me off again. I told her I wasn't on campus that day and couldn't possibly get there, so we agreed on Friday.

If she can't help me, I am going to kill someone. Her, that damned tech, and whomever she reports to who lets her get away with this crap.

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss high school. I miss being able to call my VI teachers, Nancy up north, or crazy Bill here in town. Bill used to drive me crazy, but he returned phone calls, showed up when he said he would be there, and he always took care of emergencies. And loaned me a little bit of authority by leaning on people who wouldn't listen to me. Perhaps I should find a way to tell my crazy counselor, if I ever see her, that I'm accustomed to being treated better than this, and that all of my old friends in the county office would never have dealt with me this way. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Damnit, I was born in this town and I grew up with the county VI people hanging around, and even the crackpots (and they had some) would have done something by now!" Or something like that.

It just figures, you know? I never need anything, but when I do, when things come up, I have this odd expectation of help. Imagine that. And when I don't get it, I tend to get a little bit pissed off.

Maybe I wouldn't be dealing with this quite as badly if I weren't so damned tired, and if it hadn't been quite such a long day. But I am, and it was, and I swear to you that if That Woman goes off on bloody vacation without dealing with me, I am going to call her voice mail every day, several times a day, repeating myself as necessary.

Okay. Maybe I won't call that often. But I'm not going to let her get away with not helping, either. If I can't get the services to which I am legally entitled, someone's going to hear about it.

I mean, I'm usually a nice person. Really. I get tired and I get...testy, but I'm a nice person most of the time. Just...don't piss me off.

Novel update: Progressing nicely. Don't have an updated word count because today's work is in my notebook and I haven't typed it up yet.

( Fun stuff about the future, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and various other things )

Thanks for some really good questions, Eilan! I had to think for a while on some of those. :)

So...I think it's my turn now. Anyone want to be interviewed by yours truly?