All art is at once surface and symbol

Things My Mother is Allergic To

• Dogs


• Cats


• Happiness


• Making comments without the slightest hint of criticism


• Going five seconds in Dad's presence without nagging and hen-pecking him


• Not showing off her "gratitude" by reminding Dad of something he's forgotten or a mistake he's made whenever he goes out on errands for her or buys her a gift


• Good memories (but she's more than happy to remember some insignificant fight Dad or I had with her just to criticize us even more)

If Mom doesn't want me to get another pet, she should outright say so. That way, I wouldn't spend so much time going through Pet Finder and other adoption sites looking for chinchillas and dogs and whatnot. I go through all the trouble to look up hypoallergenic dogs for her and offer to bring helpful research articles and honest reviews of dog breeds, but she shuts me down every time. I suggest dogs like Shih-Tzus and Malteses, and she whines about how she'll only listen to what her allergist told her (whom she hasn't met in 18 years) which is Poodles or Bichon Frises or nothing. Since she considers Poodles to be too "high-strung" and smart, I look up Bichon Frises (and from Corpus Christi, the nearest Bichons up for adoption are in San Antonio) and manage to find a dog who looks just like Amanda. Rather than be fascinated like my Dad was, Mom goes on and on making up excuses how ZOMG HE LOOKS LIKE A MALTESE MIX (his Pet Finder page lists him as a purebred) and I WANT THE POOFY BICHON LOOK AND WE WERE NEVER ABLE TO GET THAT WITH AMANDA and nitpicking the living hell out of him like she does with Every. Single. Fucking. Thing.

She had the fucking gall to excuse me of being selfish because I wanted presents for my birthday. What the FUCK.

I told her that I wanted another dog for my birthday. I told her that Amanda would've wanted me and Freddie to move on. (And it's not like Mom is still grieving for Amanda, considering she explicitly told me that she'd think about having another dog in the family. She even told me she loved pugs and wished she could have one, but can't because she's allergic) I told her how therapeutic pets are for me and how important it was for me to be surrounded by animals for my mental health. I told her that I felt like she was finding excuses for why I can't get a dog though I did everything I could to accommodate her needs, and that I felt hurt by that. So she goes and digs up all the mistakes I've ever made with Freddie, saying how OMG YOU'RE NOT RESPONSIBLE ENOUGH and YOU DON'T BRUSH FREDDIE ENOUGH AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HIS COAT WHEN HE GOT TOO MATTED and YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A JOB and did her best to make me sound like the most neglectful parent in the universe. 'Cause you know, forget that I've been taking Freddie on various trips to the dog park and other places you're allowed to walk dogs. Forget that I gave him a bath before one particular dog event so he would look and smell nice. Forget that I realized shearing him was a mistake and that I've been brushing his fur to make sure I don't do something careless like that again (Hell, I'm the only one who brushes and bathes him, and he's supposed to be the family pet. I certainly don't see Mom taking the effort to brush him). Forget that I volunteer my ass off at the Cattery and Gulf Coast Humane Society. Forget that I clean Ryu's cage every week and give him his dust baths when needed. Nope, I'm just an irresponsible git who neglects the pets she already has. Oh yeah, and then Mom goes and grumbles and rants and stews what horrible and awful and nasty and illogical people Dad and I are to my brother. That's always fun.

No matter what I do, no matter how much I try to address her concerns, Mom is just going to keep making up excuses. Because she won't outright tell me that I can't have a new dog because she's allergic to happiness and any effort I try to reduce or escape the drama and misery of the household.

So once again, I'm left in a position I hate. I fucking hate arguing. So I either don't say anything and be passive and let troubles stew in my mind, or I call her out for her selfishness and it results in a screamfest. I fucking hate this and I feel like I'm turning into a horrible person because of all the fights I get stuck in with my Mom. I don't want to be a person who starts fights and yells all the time. But Mom's already made me into one.

It's not like I can discuss this with Dad either, because either Dad will shut down or make excuses for Mom and how I shouldn't treat her like a bad person.

I think at this point I can pretty much say goodbye to going to Portland this year. Jimmy barely has enough money to get by and so does Aspen. Unless I get a job that makes me millions of dollars, I'm fucked. I get the feeling I probably won't be able to go to Portland at all. And I have absolutely nowhere else to go.

I feel tired a lot lately. I'm not sure how much work and papers I can do, I'm getting really stressed and worn out. Usually I just want to sleep so I don't have to worry about college work and all the assignments I have to do. I just wish the semester would already be over so I could fly to Portland. Two months still feels so far away. I'm sick of being lonely and having no one IRL to hang out with. I want a place I could actually call home for once. I'm sick of moving all the time or being stuck in a place I feel like I don't belong.

Sometimes, I feel like I've shot myself in the foot.

So, um. I was bored. So I watched Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Rebellion last night.

( I'll make this brief. Spoilers, of course. )

I need time to recover. I really, really do.

Somehow, I had a feeling that checking the comments for an actual secret rather than just the "Adoptables" thread would be an enormous mistake. Nice to know I'm right. (TW: ABLEISM UP THE FUCKING WAZOO)

How nice that while people think I'm a stupid whackjob IRL, I can't tell about my experiences online 'cause I'll just be lumped with SJWs who fake and/or use their disability as an excuse to be assholes while referring to neurotypical people with condescending terms such as "allistics."

Meanwhile, I should stop visiting the "Audience Alienating Premise" because it makes me feel depressed. It feels like the things I want to see more of and/or want to write land smack-dab on that page, which gives me the impression that while I might like them, the majority of humankind doesn't. Making me feel even more weird and isolated. Ugh. Though really, I question some of the things listed, like Madoka. It's hardly "alienated" its audience when it's currently one of the most hyped and enormously popular series right now. :/

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Ahh, the story of my life.

Sorry I haven't been updating much. I just can't really think of anything to update with, you know? Other than I'm starting to get horrible dreams again. My psychologist calls them "anxiety dreams." I think that's accurate. The first dream involved a screaming match between me and my boyfriend about Homestuck, with me acting like my whiny days in Sonic fandom (him being an ex-fan, me challenging him for why he thinks Andrew Hussie is a douchebag). I hope to get into contact with him today, just to be sure our relationship is stable. 'Cause we never, ever yell at each other. And I consider it a good thing.

The other dream was mainly about Mom. ( Lord knows that always ends well. )

Yeah, I'm sure you guys don't want to see entry after entry like this either. Nobody likes a person who is sad all the time.

So um... you remember the Halloween meme where you guys assigned me to do tricks? I don't think I can fulfill them this year. Drama has hit my life like a runaway truck and I'm trying to regain my bearings.

I'm staying at Dave's while Dad goes to San Antonio to change medicine to Mom. Dear god I hope it works for her this time. I can't handle another one of her manic episodes again.

Another day, another teeth-gnashing brush-in with my mother. Today I thought it would be better if she got out of my life. When I realized that, I cried.

I've got to stop reading 50 Shades for a while. Not only do I fear it's affecting my writing what little I've done anyway (I almost typed, "and my subconcious agreed" and I cringed) it truly upsets me that this tedious creepy novel is put on the pedestal as something revolutionary, ground-breaking and feminist when it isn't. I was able to cope with it with Twilight, 'cause it's an easy comedy target and I couldn't get past the first chapter of the first book without getting bored. But I'm up to Chapter 16 of 50 Shades, and somehow it crawls MUCH more under my skin, probably due to me actually reading the material than other people's commentary/sporks/MSTs on it.

Is fandom a vocal minority? Because everything I learned about writing smut came from the Internet and fanfiction, not published novels. In fact, I often prefer fanfiction smut to "official" erotica. Usually in the former, the prose is better and between characters I was connected with and grew to know and love, not Alpha Dude and Gorgeous Virgin who have Mills & Boon sessions once every chapter. Plus they introduced me to a whole world of kinks. The bad smutfic were also easier to make fun of and laugh at for the same reason.

I guess what's really getting under my skin is that people are still under the impression that women can't enjoy porn ever (I hate the term "mommy porn"), and it makes me want to wave my arms and cry, "Are you blind!?" The people lauding 50 Shades for being ZOMG SOOOOOO KINKY!11!!11 would be fucking shocked if they were introduced to the fanfiction archives of the Internet. Even if you leave the Internet out of the equation, it amazes me how much people just don't read. Lady Chatterly's Lover? Fanny Hill? Do those books suddenly not exist anymore? The Story of O and the works of Anaïs Nin existed LONG before E.L. James stepped into the scene as "ZOMG A WOMAN WHO WROTE A FAMOUS EROTICA NOVEL!11!1!" Even shitty bestselling erotica beat her to the spot; o hai, Anne Rice and the Beauty trilogy.

When a hotel replaces copies of the Bible with 50 Shades, you know we've got a problem.

The series is spreading like goddamn HIV. This wouldn't bother me so much if everyone acknowledged this was just fantasy, but 50 Shades treats the abusive relationship between Ana & Christian as the ideal, and tons of women reading the books believe it. They truly believe Christian is this amazing and wonderful hunk because he acts like a serial killer. They think they'll be able to find their own "bad boy" and "change" him. And if he doesn't, they blame themselves because women should be responsible and obey their man.

Jesus. Either men must be douchebags to be seen as desirable by fangirls, or every single one of them is an evil rapist. I'll rant about that double standard another day.

Each time I think of giving up writing, I look up and see shit like 50 Shades and House of Night being best-sellers, and I feel like Peter Parker after he tried to quit being Spiderman in the second movie. But the way my family life has been going, I barely sum up the energy and I feel like shit. Whee.

It's bad when you're afraid to leave your room because if your mother sees you, she'll talk to you.