Regina Noctis

Won’t be able to head up to the Bay Area during my winter break after all. Will be here for foreseeable future thanks to situations here.

Will write about everything else when I’ve calmed down sufficiently. Currently so furious I’ve been shaking for the last hour.

Thanks to the asshole psychotic cousin and the insanity of my grandmother, the yelling and fights, there will be no Christmas celebration at this house. After shit that went on all day long, Mom said tonight that she can’t do it.

I can’t begin to describe the amount of fury and hatred I feel for my cousin and my grandmother when I look at what they’ve done to my mom.

Too pissed off to sleep.

The psycho cousin went into a drug treatment program a couple months ago. The program runs a year.

Day before yesterday, he decided to bail on the program. He showed up here.

The fights with my grandmother about whether or not he can move back in have begun. Everyone’s stressed beyond belief. By the time I’d been awake for four hours today, I felt like I’d been up for more like 40.

He’s currently staying in the house my grandparents gave him and his ex-wife and their kids. However, the house is in the process of being sold and he’s going to have to leave there shortly.

I can’t call in a violation of the restraining order, because Mom hasn’t turned in the proof of service so the order’s not valid. The temporary restraining order is long since expired.

Another Christmas down the drain, in spite of the efforts I’ve been making to try and get the spirit back into Mom. It was always her favorite holiday. She’s been horribly depressed by the way the psycho gets especially bad during Christmas. It has ruined the holiday for her. We were looking forward to our first John-free Christmas in years. Now he’s on the next block, and will doubtless come over here to issue threats, and perhaps attack someone like last year, when he tried to kill Mom.

I almost succeeded, too. I almost had her happy and looking forward to the holiday. A particular thread on MoFi about good Christmas memories went a long way toward that, in spite of the folks who showed up in the thread to bitch about Christamas. (And why is it that people who dislike Christmas try to drag everyone else down with them, anyway? I ran into that with some former housemates back in the Ponderosa house too. Well, Red Dave in particular, but all of them in general grumbled and growled and bitched some anyway, enough that Mom was depressed then, too. Though nothing like here, where the holiday “tradition” that Mom has experienced for the last five years has been being terrorized by my asshole cousin.)

We haven’t even bothered to get a tree. And I somehow doubt that we will at this point.

…a present for so she can keep in practice if her boyfriend goes out of town.

This toy is just wrong, wrong, wrong…

I haven’t gotten it. My phone has decided that it has no desire to do its job any longer. Damn lazy thing.

It did the same thing last BayCon for about two days, but then decided to heal itself. No sign of healing this time, and it’s been almost a week.

Either that, or I’m losing what meager seductive feminine wiles I had before. Because the problem is that I just can’t turn on my phone any longer.

Or maybe it just decided it no longer swings on my side of the trapeze.

For whatever reason, it just refuses to get turned on. So I’m going to have to look into finding a phone that doesn’t play hard to get so effectively.

The Good:

• I got an A on every project I did for my digital illustration class.
• My digital illustration instructor thinks my stuff is so good that he wants me to start putting my portfolio together now rather than toward the end of my latest bout of college, and has told me to call him anytime if I need help or advice.
• Found out from my instructor that Wacom pads and such may actually not aggravate my injured hand, since they are very sensitive and it doesn’t take much pressure to use them.
• All registered for next semester.
• Upcoming trip to the Bay Area in January.
• The heart trouble we feared my cat Morris had appears to have actually been a valve infection, and is clearing up with antibiotics.
• I just found out that students who have seen their 21st birthday are exempt from having to take physical education classes, for which my arthritis is very grateful.
• I also found that that one year of high school algebra exempts students from having to fulfill math requirements, so must get a transcript to BC since I took 2 years of algebra and a year of geometry in high school.
• Only had to pay a total of $16 in order to register for the classes I’ll be taking next semester.
• Extra forgot that she’s supposed to be a cat and not some alien thing in a kitten suit (as we are all convinced she really is) and said “Bless you” to me when I sneezed.
• I managed to convince Mom to make more clam dip, even though it’s not one of the holiday feasts.
• My mocha rum cake impressed my grandmother so much, she told me I’m never allowed to make it again because it’s too good and she can’t stop eating it.
• My new falls arrived, and they’re beautiful. Kincthulhu lives!
• Fifteen years clean, baybee. I just reached that realization on a less intellectual and more emotional level a couple days ago, even though I hit the fifteen year mark a few months ago. I’d been saying the words, and then in the middle of saying it, it suddenly dawned on me that it was real.

The Bad:

• I’ve broken four nails in the last three days, which makes typing a pain since I’m accustomed to my nails being there.
• Morris has multiple abscessed teeth, and will have to be put under to have his teeth worked on, usually a dangerous thing to do with cats.
• The very changeable weather patterns we always have in this area at this time of year have completely pissed off my arthritis.
• My 20 year high school reunion will be coming up next year. Where the hell did the time go?? I coulda sworn I just graduated maybe two years ago at most.
• Still haven’t worked out how to win some mega-millions with Lotto without actually playing.
• Still haven’t found a way to get it through my father’s head that “I don’t want you in my life” means exactly that. Somehow, he seems to think it means that I’m okay with him finding a way to move back to the US, getting a house near me, and coming over to visit and take me out to dinner. All that’s going to lead to are bouts of his insane rage and his telling me that I am and always have been a failure.

The Ugly