I am reopening the door between my father and myself.

How it goes depends on his responses and if we are able to work it out.

I cannot change the fact that my cat is dead.
And that devastates me.
It really devastates me...

...


Please don't worry about me if I get quiet.

And please offer sound advice, not jaded, when I need it.

I need logic; not mobs of friends jumping to my defense.
You can do that after; if things go wrong.

Okay?
Okay.

Thank you.

I normally wouldn't have posted this, but I have to put it up somewhere. Why? Because I'm ripping myself apart otherwise. So. Here it is. I figure here is better than facebook.

The first email that Laura sent me:

Dear Elisabeth,
Your father told me about the conversation with you and about the
e-mail you sent to him. I am surprised at your attitude. Your father is not
a brick wall, but like all fathers, he will not stay on the phone with
anyone, including you or me, who is screaming at him. I would not expect
anyone to do that.
Furthermore, I took Beethoven to a place that I was told would not
euthanize him. If I was told wrong, there is no need for you to blame your
father or me. Beethoven was attacking and hurting Tigress. I will not have
another animal hurting my 12-year-old cat. And, the last time you got an
e-mail telling you that it was important that you call your father, you
freaked thinking it was about a death in the family. I didn't want to scare
you again. You should have had the courtesy to call your father when asked.
We had no number to call you.
Stop treating your father like he's an evil person. He is a loving and
considerate person. Try seeing that person instead of remembering every
negative lie you ever heard about him. He is as sorry as I am about what
happened to Beethoven. We were wrongly informed.
As far as your mother is concerned, we cannot call her. She is
dis-fellowshiped. We have no number for your grandmother. We shouldn't have
to go through someone else to get to you. And as for "Daddy John" as you
call him, we have no number for him either.
I know you loved Beethoven. There is nothing we can do to rectify the
situation. Stop being rude and disrespectful to your father. He loves you
and always will, no matter what you do. But, he will not put up with
disrespect from you. No father would.

Love~ Laura

My first response:

Excuse me, but you are making this much worse for both you and my father. I do not need to be attacked by the both of you. If you have any respect for me at all, you will not say anything to me about this until I am ready to speak about it. Treating me like a little child or as if I am just sitting here yelling accusations and spitting like an enraged cat who merely had it's tail stepped on is going to close the door on the both of you faster than anything else. I am 21 years old, and while I know that is young to you, I am an adult and far more knowledge about this world and how things work than you two seem to be able to allot me. If you'd like to have any kind of relationship with me, don't talk to me about this until I can manage to talk to you both. And until you have seen all the emails that I have sent and read them all AND understand where I am coming from, I don't want to hear anything from you about how I'm acting like a terrible person. Trying to make me feel bad is not going to work, it's only going to push me away. I know how I work. You do not. If you do not give me time, I am going to end up saying things that no one deserves to hear or have said to them; so give me my space, thank you very much, and wait for me to calm my mind down so I may think about this rationally. As of right now, I am NOT rational, and you will get no rational answer. Nor will you get the answer that you want. So kindly take a few steps back from this and wait. Thank you.

The SECOND email she sent me:

Dear Elisabeth,
I was mistaken about the last phone call between you and your father. I
thought that he had hung up on you. As it turns out, you hung up on him
after screaming at him. Then you sent him an e-mail telling him you would
tell him when he could speak to you again. You were totally out of line. I
never disrespected my parents. I would never do that. You did exactly that
to your father. Neither he nor I have done anything malicious to you. You
have no right to disrespect him the way you did. I am ashamed of you!! You
are supposed to be an adult. Start acting like one instead of acting like a
5-year-old child.

Laura

And the last email I'm going to send her for quite a while:

Laura

I told you not to email me again until I let you know that I was able to talk about this. You did not. Obviously that means you do not respect me and I have no need to respect you.

Don't you DARE presume you have any right to DEMAND me to do ANYTHING. You do not have that right. You are only the woman that my father married, no more, no less. If you send me any more emails, they will be promptly deleted and ignored. I do not care if you think you are defending my father, he can do that himself, and at least he has the sense and respect to not email me when I request him not to.

You have clearly shown that you do not care if you have any kind of relationship with me at all. Do not email me again. I have more important things to worry about than your nasty and petty and insulting emails.

Elisabeth




Ooops... probably shouldn't have said that...

But I said what I wanted to. I wanted to say more. But I didn't. I think that's restraint... I'm going to go do my homework now. *wanders*

Mama and Da have never liked each other. For as long as I can remember there has been a long standing struggle in which Da tried to take us kids from Mama, and in which Mama has clung to us kids desperately as if we were the last things in her life that made it worth living. Da was always this intimidating man who lived far away, who was huge and who always had profound things to say and interesting travels to relate, while Mama was our home. Mama was always my home. Da would bring us boxes full of things that were left over from his travels. The boxes ranged anywhere from salad dressing to an two entire boxes full of marshmallows. Just for us kids. Mama was always working and a pillar of strength. The working woman. The one who would teach me how to do a simple side-to-side dance and all the words to the classic rock'n'roll songs while managing money and teaching us to save our pennies. Da brought in the fascination of things that we didn't know. Mama brought in self reliance and hard work. Even apart, they taught us different things, things that would help us survive.

But through their lessons there was also anger, frustration, and bitterness. Da would call and talk to us kids and then get on the phone with Mama; she'd go up the stairs and talk to him in hushed tones that slowly rose until they were yelling over the phone. My brother and I would just sit on the stairs and look at each other, fiddling with the chipped, blue painted wood until she was done. Then she'd come down the stairs looking haggard and would hug us tightly, apologizing and repeating that she really wanted us to have our own opinion of Da, she didn't want her views to color our view of him, so she wouldn't tell us why they argued.

We always sided with Mama.

Mama said, "I've done bad things in my life. I did drugs and drank too much when I was a teenager. I didn't listen to my family and I cheated on your father. It was wrong. But I'm glad I did it."

Da said, "Your mother cheated on me when we were married. I can never forgive her for that. She cheated on me right out in the open and told everyone. I tried my best to keep us together, but after that, well there was no turning back. She hurt me."

I always wondered, when I was a child, where things went wrong. Mama would tell me of how Da brought her away from her entire family because he didn't like her mother. She would tell me of how he moved them into a condemned house and how there were holes in the roof and how the porch was falling apart, and how I was just a baby and how horrible that would've been. She painted a picture of a young, immature man who was eager to have babies and run red lights when she was in labor. He was inexperienced. He was young. He was proud. She told me of an argument they had once. It ended with her pointing a knife at his chest and daring him to come closer. He walked away.

Da would tell me nothing about their married life. He told me nothing of what happened except that she cheated on him and that he was doing his best to make things work. Instead, he focused on what was going on in the house at the moment. Was Mama treating us well? Who was this Garey guy? Do you really want that Barbie? Because I'll get it for you. I found out much later that the reason he moved so far away from the family was because he was arguing with his father. For seven years they didn't talk to one another. Neither would budge. Neither would try to give in. My grandfather said it was the hardest time in his life. My father didn't say anything.

There's two cats that I want. I wonder if mum would let me have both... one is named Ollie. He's not from around here. He's an all white kitty who apparently is really sweet. A 'gentle giant' as the woman said over the email. She's willing to bring him up to me, I just have to figure out how to get him to Maine...

The other is a sweet little black kitten. A girl. She's at a friend's farm. I don't want to take one without the other. It's like... hrm... it's like... well I dunno. I just want both. I was going to get a boy and name him Dionysus, but I guess things changed a bit...

Mum is up for having them both. I feel bad for two... >_< I'll figure this out...

My cat has been euthanaized.

He's not there. My cat isn't there. He's not at the shelter. I'm calling the pound tomorrow to see if he's there still. Cross your fingers for me. Please, God, if you've done nothing for me in the past (which you have and I'm grateful for), please get me my cat back.

Part One can be found here: http://crimsonfantasy.livejournal.com/37717.html


I left off on the other post with the end of the first conversation. I was upset all night, but Emily brought me to go see Adrianne's cats (<3) and so I was feeling a little better. At this point, I was positive that I would never see my cat again. I was reeling in shock that my father would give away my cat after I had made him promise that he wouldn't. And seeing how he knew how distressed I was about my mother giving my cat away, I figured that he understood and would do everything in his power to keep my cat there. Apparently, I was wrong. And it wounded me deeply to think of how he had ruined this part of our relationship.

Trust, for me, is one of the biggest things that you can break with a person. I trusted my father with my cat, a huge feat seeing how badly battered our relationship had been when I was younger, and I trusted that he would do the fatherly thing of taking care of my cat. If he couldn't care for my cat, I trusted that he would tell me why and would give me plenty of warning and plenty of time and plenty of understanding while I scrambled to find him a home again. I thought he'd understand that if I was desperate enough to transport my cat 20 hours out Maine to North Carolina, the cat meant something great to me. Apparently, I was wrong. I was wrong and the thought that he would break that trust so easily stung. But I thought that perhaps he just didn't understand how I felt about my cat, and as soon as he did find out that he would do everything in his power to help me find him again. I clung to this little ounce of hope while I worried and fretted and cried.

So I called him the next day. Saturday. I was determined to be calm and explain things. I had it all planned out. I would call and let him know how this was much bigger than he seemed to think it was, he would apologize profusely and promise to do whatever he could to bring my cat back, I would thank him, relieved, and then we would say that we loved each other, all would be forgiven, and life would go on.

As you can imagine, things didn't quite happen that way. I called him up and explained things, plowing forward even when he tried to speak because I wanted to get it all out and I could sense, in the back of my mind, that he wasn't all that interested. I even told him the dream of living alone with my cat if everything else fell through. There wasn't an ounce of caring in his voice, just a hard steely outline of justification, which made me start to panic. Again, the thought that I would be without my cat loomed ahead of me and my voice started to rise, trying to make him see through my desperation what he had done. Nothing. So I tried another route. I tried to have him think of how he'd feel if one of his animals had been taken away from him, and that just made things worse. With a quiet rumble of fury, my father stepped onto a landmine.

"ONE email should be MORE than enough, Elisabeth." His self righteous tone edged on insult. "You didn't contact us over the summer at all; so one email is MORE than enough."

"I don't contact anyone over the summer, dad. Besides, I have school work and papers and other things to think about. My brain isn't able to think of anything else."

"You were not in school most of the summer!"

"Actually, dad, I was. I had summer courses."

"Well. One email is MORE than enough."

He ribbed on that for a while before I switched back to asking how he could just get rid of my cat, and he stepped on another landmine:

"How dare you accuse me of just getting rid of your cat! I did everything I could to keep him for as long as I could! How dare you accuse me!"

"BUT THAT'S WHAT YOU DID, DAD. THAT'S WHAT YOU DID!"

"You can call me back as soon as you know how a daughter should talk to her father." He snapped, the 'this-is-final' tone lodged in his voice.

"Dad, you got rid of my cat! You don't understand! Think of how it would be if Max had been taken away, or Tigress, or--" We were pulling into the parking lot by Price Chopper, headed over to the dollar store.

"--we'll look for your damn cat--" His voice rose, spitting out the insult to my cat as if I had insulted him with thinking that he could understand, and I stopped listening at that point.

I could feel the rush of fury, shock and betrayal as it washed over me. I pulled the phone away from my ear and snapped it shut. "My damn cat..." The final words he said resounded in my head as I placed the phone into the seat with as much care as I could muster. MY DAMN CAT. I repeated his words in shock, and as soon as the car came to a stop I shoved the door open, excusing myself and stalking out into the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind me as I took off. Blinded by anger, I hurled my keys at the ground because of the ferocious anger welling up inside me. I saw them break, and kept on walking. I saw a clump of trees ahead and several things crossed my mind. To walk into the woods and never come back. Or to attack the trees. I went with the first one, walking into the trees only to suddenly whirl and attack one. Walking was too much effort. I wanted instant results in getting out the anger. All the while repeating the last three words my father had said, I hit the trees, not thinking twice about what it would do to my arm. Thankfully I had enough sense to realize that if I punched a tree, I would probably break my hand. Not wanting that, I just hit them sideways. When I couldn't hit again without bruising my bruises and possibly breaking my arm, I whirled around again, saw Alisha coming, Scott heading to the Dollar Store, and sank to my knees, sobbing.

It was at that point I had decided that I needed to go to Maine. To make the epic trip in one night that would kill me and heal me at the same time. I wasn't taking no for an answer. I was going. One way or another. I was going to Maine. There was no question in it. And so to Maine I went, Alisha driving most of the way there and back (I would've driven more, but she was too bored in the passenger seat, and I think my driving scared her), and her Cam with us. I got hugs, a rose, and amusement; but none of it was strong enough to make me stop feeling the betrayal that I had.

It was made worse by the message my father left on Alisha's phone after I had hung up on him; it ended with, "And tell Elisabeth that if she's going to continue being this rude, to not call me again." Not only did my father not understand, he wasn't going to try to understand. He was too busy being wounded that he didn't bend at all. After everything that I had been through, after every effort I had made to have a closer relationship with him, he had made possibly the biggest mistake that he could have ever made. He took my trust, in the form of my cat, and gave it away.

I later found out that he had talked to my elder brother and had said, "I assumed that because she didn't call to ask about her cat that she didn't care about him anymore. And I sent her SEVERAL messages about this." My anger rose another few degrees. After the fuss he made about one email being more than enough, now he was telling people that he sent me several messages? I had looked through my email several times for a message from my father or Laura. There is one. I haven't deleted anything in my inbox since before August. There is nothing else from him, or her, about anything. And the only thing the email said was to call them because they hadn't heard from me in a while. And he assumed. Well. We all know what happens when we assume, don't we? And it's certainly turned him into an ass. And I'm done negotiating. I informed my mother last night that I won't take anything less than a true, heartfelt apology and my cat. He cannot get away with one or the other. I want MY cat, and an apology. A real apology. Which means he needs to realize that he was wrong and he has said the wrong things. As it is, I'm not going to North Carolina for Thanksgiving Break; and I especially won't if he's not going to negotiate with me. Fuck that. If he thinks that he can get away with being an ass to me just because he's a little wounded because HE made a mistake, then he's got another thing coming.

HE made the mistake. Now HE can fix it. I'll be waiting for the apology I know won't be coming, and in the meantime, I'm in an all out battle to find my cat. And when I find him, I know he's got a home up in Maine again, because at least my MOTHER had given me warning upon warning upon warning and time to find a place for my cat. My father didn't even bother. Apparently, he thought I should know by the ancient father-daughter psychic system that is as old as time itself, apparently just like the knowledge of how to talk to a father when a daughter is distressed (I assume it's something along the lines of 'oh great and gracious daddy, please forgive me for being so upset, but you have wounded my poor fragile female heart, and I will do anything to appease you if you just understand that I'm sorry for feeling this terribly about what you did. I know you meant no harm. I will accept this and apologize for never calling when I have no phone, I should have done something, found money somehow, asked someone for a loan, just for a phone so that I could call you even though you had the number to the house that I'm staying at and could have just as easily called me instead. I realize this is a one way street with your name on it, I'm sorry that I ever thought to remind you that it was my cat you sent away and that I cared for him even though I didn't ask about him even though every time I did call I asked about him. I'm so sorry for being hurt by this. Please forgive me oh wonderful and gracious father.'), but he seems to have forgotten something.

WE NEVER HAVE GOTTEN ALONG. For over 18 years he and I have had a terrible relationship. I started calling him more in college in hopes to patch that up. And he thinks in two years everything is fine and he's 'daddy-dearest' and can do whatever he wants to my things? Just because I never called? No. No that's not right. This is a two way street, father. And if you want me to respect you, you had better show you are worthy of such respect; this? This entire thing? You ruined it. You ruined everything I had thought you were. I hope you're proud of yourself up in your castle. Go ahead and spout your angry flames at how your daughter doesn't appreciate you and only ever calls you about money (which, by the way, I haven't asked for in quite some time because, as MOST people full well know, I DON'T LIKE asking for money and I avoid it when it's possible, and if it's not possible, then I avoid it for as long as I can afford to), and you can fuss and fume about how you continuously told me that my cat was causing problems and you'd have to give him away, about how you sent me several dire messages saying to call you back because it had to do with my cat, about how you tried repeatedly to get ahold of me; and then I'm going to turn around, open up my inbox, and show everyone the lone email that you had Laura send. YOU didn't even send it. Laura did.

Congratulations. You have just made the entire family lose this game. I hope you're happy.

Oh, and if you think that by saying that you never want to hear from me again unless I figure out how to speak to you properly will get some results... think about how well that worked last time. I will not be forced to patch this up because you can't think to bend for me. I'm your daughter. And you should start treating me like a family member that you love and don't want to hurt rather than the servant daughter that stays meek and mild and timid and walks on eggshells just to make sure she doesn't upset daddy-dearest. Get that image out of your head, father, because that's not who I am. I'll respect you when you show me proper respect as well. And by showing me proper respect, that means you respect how I think, how I feel, how I act and MY THINGS.

Oh, by the way. He wasn't LIVING at your house. He was being temporarily housed. Don't you remember? I said it would just be until I could get my own house for him, until I moved out and could live on my home. He was NOT living under your roof. I even offered to send you guys money for him, but you declined. He was still in every way MY CAT. And you gave him away when he wasn't even yours. Just because he was living under your roof doesn't mean he was yours. Does that mean my blanket is yours? My stuffed animals? How are those any different than my cat? Hm? Think about that, and think about how wrong you are. When you're ready to apologize and get him back for me, I'll think about going to visit. Until then, I'm done with you. You can't break my trust and then expect ME to apologize. What am I going to say? "I'm sorry for trusting you"? Hm. Methinks that adds more insult to YOU.

Anyway. This is the end of it, thanks for reading it if you've read it all. If you have only skimmed, well that's better than not reading at all, after all, some of you know all of this already. Thanks for your time, thanks for your support. I love you all and I'm GOING to find my cat... and if I don't... well... be prepared for a very upset/sad panda.

Two days ago I found out that my father got rid of one of the most important emotional attachments I had. After having his wife send me one email about calling him over a month ago asking for me to call because they hadn't heard from me in a while, my father assumed that because I didn't call right away, it was okay to give my cat to an animal shelter. Clearly, because I didn't call back to that obviously dire message, I didn't think my cat was that important (I have the message still, if anyone is interested in just how 'dire' this message sounds [in case you didn't notice, there was sarcasm in that]). He could just give him away. After all, he swore that he told me when my cat first got there that if he was too rough with their cat they were going to give him away. I'll get into the minor issue I have with that statement later, for right now, I want to explain how I feel about my pets so that it is understood by all reading this just how important animals are to me.

Anyone who knows me understands that I end up getting pretty attached to my animals; they're like family to me. Just small and furry family members. I cheat on their diets and feed them the food that I eat, I mean, after all, if I can eat it why can't they? They are part of the family. Every single animal that I've ever grown attached to I have taken under my wing and made my own. I have washed cats in the tub with me (I swear that they jumped in of their own accord), shared peanut butter spoons with ferrets, ate bean sprouts with our old rabbit, let snakes get tangled in my hair (and during the Ice Storm of '98, even let a snake curl up under my shirt so we could keep each other warm), slept with kittens and cats and let dogs almost push me off my very own bed. I've even been known to pick up lost, injured, or wandering animals that I find outside. Two good examples of this are a run-over pigeon (who happened to only have his wing run over and a very high fever), and a mouse I found in a friends trash can. I'll take anything in as long as I'm able to, and even then I'm not against smuggling creatures in until they are healed and ready to go back into the wild.

Sure, you could call me your regular ol' animal activist, but the point I'm getting at here is that animals are creatures that I tend to bond with easily and have a hard time parting with. It was no different with my cat Beethoven.

When he first came to us, Beethoven was nothing more than an arrogant, and stressed, ass. Occasionally he would bat at the other cats to prove that he was worth something and to try and get himself a spot in the house hierarchy, but for the most part, he would hide away under beds, chairs, the couch and anything else that he could squeeze his lanky form under and stare at us all silently. The first time I saw him, I saw his white butt sailing over a pile of laundry, tail swinging like a white flag before he disappeared under the table and behind a bin. The other cats scattered around him and then came out slowly to inspect the newcomer, and I was smitten. A white cat? An all white cat? Oh-ho... that cat was mine. I knew right off that he would be mine, and it set into motion my determined actions to make him realize this.

Unfortunately, I already had another cat who I had managed to bring back from being anti-social to being loving and needy to the point of almost being annoying. Screech. He was adorable with long gray fur and a streak of white dropping from his jaw to flare out on his chest and two white socks on his feet. I'm not entirely sure how he got his name, but he was a lovely little cat and apparently very possessive. In my attempts to make Beethoven mine, I started a war between the two cats that I fancied the most. Beethoven, sensing a safe haven in my room would often saunter in and yowl at me (and yowl he would, since he's deaf and couldn't hear himself and so yowled all the louder for it). Screech would be lounging over the top of the mattress that was being stored upright against my wall and would whip his head around when he saw Beethoven walk in. Not even a second after the new intruder finished his demanding yowl, Screech would fly from the top of the mattress and land on the much bigger cat, laying out his territory with a hiss. This would start one of many epic battles.

It didn't take Screech long to realize that he was overwhelmed by Beethoven's fighting skill, and so he sought to outline his territory in a way that was more daring... and started spraying all my things, and only my things, with his scent. Naturally, this wasn't taken well. I fought for the little gray cat until I couldn't fight for him anymore, and had to bring him to an animal shelter. I still remember how his claws dug into my sweater as he refused to let go, and how I cried all the way home. I still miss the little bastard Screech (it was hard to forget him when he pissed all over my bags and room), but Beethoven soon quickly filled the gap that Screech had left.

Almost instantly after his rival was gone, the deaf white cat relaxed and became my dog. Loyally following me around as I went about my daily duties, I acquired perhaps one of the best friends that I could ever ask for. While he wasn't the most cuddly creature in the world (couldn't stand to be held more than 5 seconds, then 10 seconds and finally 15 seconds at a time), he was the most friendly and the most attention needy and would let me do almost anything to him. I can't count the times I was able to flop down on top of the cat and he'd just sit there and purr at me. He'd sleep stretched out all along my leg, and by all along my leg I mean he really did. His front paws would be stretched up to my hips, and his toes would line with my feet and he'd lay there and purr and purr and purr until I fell asleep. He was the only companion I had that I wasn't embarrassed to cry in front of, and I can't count the number of times that I ended up clinging to him while he purred and just sobbed into his fur. He never seemed to mind and if he did pull away, he would always come back up to me a few seconds later and butt his head against mine as if to say, "It'll be alright, don't worry..."

When I was gone for more than a weekend (the usual amount of time that I was gone), he would sit in front of the door and yowl in the middle of the night. He would look for me all over the house. But he learned, quickly, that I wasn't gone forever. And once he knew how long I was going to be gone for, he would be content to wait for me until then; but as soon as it was time for me to come back home, he'd be waiting right by the door again for me. Twining himself around my legs and purring up a storm. He was my cat. He was my baby. I had such a strong connection with him that one of my silliest dreams was to get my own studio apartment and live there with just me and my cat. Him and me, me and him. We didn't need anyone else. Because we had each other.

Well, after I went to college, there were problems at home. I won't get into them, but during my Junior year, the first semester, I was wrenched back and forth between being told that my cat would have to be taken away, would have to live somewhere else, would have to go to a shelter, unless I could find a place for him because my mother no longer had room for him. Because they had too many cats. So I phoned around, I asked and I pleaded and I begged and offered people money for food or litter or whatever else they needed just if they would take him in until I could have my own home. No one could take him, so I turned to my last resort. I asked my father if he would take in my cat.

I thought he saw how stressed I was, and how upset I was that I might not see my cat again because of something as simple as not having the room for my cat; and he told me that he would take in my cat. He promised me after I made him promise that he wouldn't get rid of my cat. It was just until I got my own home, after all. I just needed him to have his own home until I could take him for myself. I thought that was understood, and I was wrong.

What makes this more difficult is the troubles that I've had with my father in the past. I never actually had gotten along with him until I started arguing with my mother. Then, suddenly, I found new allegiances. I thought I had found the side of my family that I had lost. The sensible side. The side that would have solid fact and who would be there when I needed that kind of support. I thought I had found my father and I started to rely on him more. I was ecstatic at the thought of mending the broken bridge that was between him and I. I thought that with my cat there things would lay out more smoothly. He was proving to me that he wasn't who I thought he was; a person who didn't know how to understand how his daughter was feeling. And he seemed to be trying to listen to me when I talked about my mother and tried to work out the knot of feelings on what was going on there. I felt that I had a safe haven for both me and what was precious to me and I fully trusted that I would see my cat again.

After forcing my cat on the harrowing journey to North Carolina from Maine (six hours to Bennington and then 14 to North Carolina), I only had one week of vacation with him before I left again for college. I felt terrible and cried at one point because I felt so bad for leaving him there, and for a second I doubted that I was doing the right thing. But of course I was. My father had guaranteed that he would take care of my cat for me. He was safe. I was just being emotional.

As much as it hurt to tear myself away and leave him there, I had to do it and went back to school; fully intending to go back during Spring Break to ensure that my cat realized that yes, indeed, I was coming back. I put my thoughts on that and drove through college intent on that one image. But things fell through, and I wasn't able to go to North Carolina. I was devastated, but again reassured myself that he would be fine and went on with college, and then summer. I hadn't stopped thinking about my cat though, and how excited I was that I was going to get him back. Or at least see him and reassure him and hug him and cuddle him and love him. He was, and is, after all, my baby.

I got an email on August 20th from Laura, my father's wife, basically just asking me to call because they hadn't heard from me in a while. And to give her an update. I was heading off to school in a few days and needed to pack and get things ready, so the email slipped my mind. Also, as most people know, I have no phone. So I can't call people willy nilly whenever I feel like it. Well, I finally remembered that I needed to call my father (and set up how I was going to get to North Carolina for Thanksgiving Break) this past Friday.

Got on the phone, said a few pleasantries only to have him say, "I have some bad news about your cat."

"What happened to my cat?" [You can imagine the protective and wary growl that was in my voice at this point.]

"Well... we had to give him to an animal shelter--"

Here I stopped listening because I was shocked and furious and upset and I started crying. I had been so excited to see my cat and remind him how much I loved him. I had already felt like SHIT for leaving him in North Carolina after only visiting for a week, and now I was faced with the possibility of never seeing him again. I was devastated. In the middle of the cafeteria, I dissolved into tears. My dad was on the other line while I asked him over and over again why on earth did he give my cat away.

"He was being too rough with Tigress [their cat]... we sent you an email about it but you never called... we waited for a call... kept him as long as we could... animal shelter about a month ago..."

"WHY didn't you tell me in the email it was important?"

"The last time something seemed important you got mad at us for scaring you."

"This is my CAT we're talking about! Of COURSE he was important! Why didn't you send more than one email?"

"ONE email should be MORE than enough."

"No, no dad, it's not."

The conversation went on like this until I couldn't take it anymore and just asked if I could call him back later, the next day more than likely. He said okay.

"Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad right now dad, just very very sad. Very very sad."

Well I'm mad now, as you can imagine. But I'll get into that later. I'll also add more to THIS later in a second journal. Right now, I need to go to lunch.

So, I told him that I liked him.

Of course, he knew.

He's got a girl back home that he's having complications with, but they're together.

Somehow, I expected this to happen.

Gonna go for a walk today. Someone might be walking with me, if he shows up. Dunno though, it'll depend on what's going on, I suppose. Even if it's raining, I'm freakin' walking. XD

Anyway. I'll update more later, when I'm not in the library, where people can come up behind me and read what I'm typing. @_@

@__________@

Oh I've got it baaad....

X333

X333333

X33333333333333333

I can't even explain how much my chest feels so full of light whenever I see this particular person. I can't help but smile. And then I smile and my toes curl and I bite my lip and I feel myself blushing and my stomach is rolling around happily and then when we walk away from each other I'm just staring off into the distance with this ridiculous grin on my face. X33 And it stays for like... ever. X3 At least two hours. AT LEAST.

I like this feeling. I wanna hold onto it. And there's a part of me that can't imagine that it could get any better...

X33

It makes me a little wary about telling him that I like him but... hey, I'll regret not saying it, so I'm gonna! And if it goes badly, then it goes badly, but at least then I'll have said something. :3 So that's good, right?

I'm such a silly girl. X3

I don't know what to say.
Feels like peanutbutter is sticking my teeth together
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
And all the while there's drama raining down on all sides
Like the rain in a forest.
A trickle here
A trickle there
A torrent right over my head.
And all I can do is close my eyes and breathe.

Just breathe, and not the way Shania Twain tells me to.
Though that would be nice.
To just breathe, and breathe in someone else.
Get lost in a moment of truth and honesty.
No hidden strings.
No listening.
No talking.
Just breathing.

I was listening to my heart today.
It felt like a bird, just like they say.
A bird in a cage
Fluttering, fluttering.
And then I felt like that bird.
A tiny bird.
In a tiny cage.
Fluttering, fluttering.
Singing to no one, timid and afraid.
No 'wanting to get out of the cage' metaphors here...
Just a bird.

I was enchanted with the moon tonight.
I don't know why, but staring at it brought a sense of peace.
I thought if I stood there staring long enough,
Maybe everything would just go away.
Maybe I'd be the one that went away.

I can't talk anymore.
I feel like every time I try my voice is drowned out by another.
That's okay, you know. Because other people should be talking.
Not that I really want to talk.
So please don't think this is me saying
LISTEN TO ME GOD FUCKING DAMN IT I'M EMO AND WANT TO TALK
Because I don't.
I just noticed that there are more people with more problems.

Or more people who are more outgoing than I am.
Or more people who can deal better.
Or more people who are actually interested.
Or more people who... y'know... are living.

I slowly feel my attentions slipping away from the 'group'
Any group.
Both groups.
Neither group.
And it's settling on one thing.
Or, one person.
And that person's group.
Or another person's group.
And I watch them and think: What a wonderful group.
What a bunch of friendly friends.

And then I turn back to my table
And I see drama.
Arguments.
Split down the middle.
People talking and not talking.
Threats and fears.
Worries and tears.
And I just look at it.

I feel like the observer again.
So nothing really bothers me,
But nothing strikes me either.
Are you tired of hearing about French Toast?
Is it because your ex is around?
Is it because everyone else is there?
Is it because you're just too busy?
Is it because of your problems?

I'm talking too much, so my mouth is glued shut.
No, I don't want to talk.
No.
I really don't want to talk.
NO.
I do not need to talk.
I do not NEED to talk.
Thank you.

If I say I'm fine, please don't tell me I'm lying.
I'm not lying.
I'm fine.
Just contemplating.
I didn't know that was a crime.
I didn't realize it was illegal for Lis to think
Or look serious.
Or stare at the sky.
Or not want to talk.
I realize it's relatively abnormal;
But I'm not always the same person.

I feel like the tide
Changing water hitting the shore with each new wave.
Different water.
From a different place.
At different intersections.
At different levels.
Pulling forward to embrace the land.
Then pulling back, cringing away from touch.
Being touched.
Being listened to.

Besides.
I sing the same song over and over again.
I'm sure if you think hard enough, you'll hear everything I've said before.
Then isn't it the same as me speaking?
Of course it is.
So when I'm fine and don't want to talk, let me meander.
Let me wander through my own tangled mind before you try to push your way through.
Because if you push through, you're going to break something.
Even a whisper can destroy cities.
Even a promise of confidence and help can make a person feel strangled.

I'm using 'you' broadly, you know.
I don't mean one person.
I don't mean one specific person.
This goes for everyone.
Just let me sort out the garden that is my mind,
Then maybe I'll talk.
Maybe I'll smile.
But for now, can't I get lost?
Can't you all just take your eyes off of me for one second?
And let me be?

If I'm quiet, I'm not dead.
If I'm quiet, I'm not sad.
If I'm quiet, it doesn't mean bad things.
If I'm quiet, it generally means

I need to go now.
Bed.
Class in the morning.
Wondering and dreaming and daydreaming.

So, if you read this
And you know me personally
And you're worried
Or your concerned
Or you're just trying to help
Or you have advice
Or you want to be here for me
Or whatever it is that you think you want to do

Please don't.

I'll come back eventually.
The tide always comes back, doesn't it?
Didn't your mother teach you that if you hold tightly onto water it'll just slip away?
Didn't you ever see a boomerang?
Everything comes back eventually.
So just let me go.
Just leave me alone.

So I find out that he's not ignoring me. X3 <3 Yay! AND I WAS RIGHT. There is a freshman who looks just like him!! D< SO NOT FAIR. I got so confused!! But he's way cuter than the freshman. X3 Way more attractive. And is starting a little goatee thing? So similar patterns in the guys I like; they all have awesome hair, and they all start a facial hair thing after a while. o_O; Huh.

Made plans with my 'little brother' Timmy that I'd go visit him in the winter and he'd teach me how to cook and I'd give him hugs and backrubs. XD He's so friggin' cute. I love that boy. Even though he's a womanizer. XD Love him dearly. <3<3 He makes my day.

Khalil might be planning a trip through NH and VT and might come see me? :DD I hope so!! I love that kid too! X33 There are so many guys that I adore and love, it's amazing that I haven't had many boyfriends... o_o;

Oh, and I'm worried about the guy I'm arguing with right now. He seems like the kind of person who would get physically angry and might come after me. @_@; Hey! D< He gave me that book a while ago! I said I'd pay him back for it, and the ONLY reason he asked for it back (as far as I can tell) is because we got into this argument and now he's like 'Bitch I want my book back' and I'm like, 'Bitch please. You gave me this book. I'll pay you for it, but I ain't givin' it back' and he got all angry online and was yelling and I'm like, 'o_O;' I really can see him attacking me if I'm alone though. @___@ I'm a bit worried about that. On another note, I also see the guy I like helpin' me out if he's around and he sees me being attacked by this dangerous guy. X3 <3 And that makes me happy a bit. Quite a bit. So in all, I think that things are slowly leaning towards the good side? Need to talk to a friend to ask her a few things... to help me out... but I'll figure it out as things come. ^_^

In all, I'm in a much better mood now... First week of school is almost over. :D I'm super excited and can't wait to implement my plan. X3

Wish me luck!! And send me luck!! I'm taking a few steps towards a relationship!! X3!!

So that's tomorrow, and I'm a little nervous. No. Really. I am. I have to get up at 6am and get ready for 7am and go until about 10:30pm. @____@ Eeeeep. And then tomorrow we do it all over again. I'm worried about my freshmen. D: Like that they won't be interested in what I have to say... @___@ Ugg...

Still a little down. Feeling a tad better. NEED MORE SLEEP.

And no internet. x_x Which sucks. Cos I'm in the computer lab right now. And I want to be in my room. D: Oh well.

Anyway, sleep soon! *scampers*

It's amazing how not having the internet can make my mood drop about 50 degrees... >_>

I am tired and weepy.

That is all.

I keep waking up and it's morning. o_o; And there's nothing to do in the mornings. It's boring. There's no one to talk to. Nothing to do. It's getting hotter. Blech. And half the time PJ and Abby's dad is downstairs sleeping so I can't do dishes either. >_< I don't think he is today, but you never know.

Last night I saw Tim again. o_o

o_o;;

I totally didn't recognize him. XD;; It's only been a year and he like, grew. He's TALL. D< TALL. DAMN HIM. And now he has this weird beard thing goin' on. o_O His hair is as awesome as ever though, and I got to braid it. He's gonna trim it. I suggested shoulder length. Then it wouldn't be longer than my hair. :D Whoo-whoo! I forgot to tell him of a good way to put his maybe beard. o_o; Whoops. I was looking at him and he looked a lot like Trollyboy... only with blond hair. D: I say go without the beard. Either that or trim it. So it looks like... like... I dunno. A goatee and no mustache. XD; OH. LIKE IRON MAN'S BEARD! XDDD That works. That's nice. Or, the way that Brad Pitt's facial hair is in his Wikipedia article. The very first picture. That's nice. *nod*

And stop wearing hats. D: You're going to go bald.

Anyway.

What the hell? Mornings are like... utterly useless. What are they for if no one else is up with you? ;_; But Aley is awake. And I can chat with her. :3 And that makes me happy. I wonder where Shania-sama went. She wasn't online and I was waiting for her last night. XD; Just sittin' around, waitin' for Shania-sama. And then I was downstairs keeping Tim company when Abby was with her cute boy. ;3 Oo~la~la, Abby~! ;D Cute catch! She and I are going to watch the PRINCE OF EGYPT tonight. :D Maybe the Road to Eldorado too? :DD? *hopes*

In all, I'm in a pretty good mood...

OH!!! I talked to Alisha last night! XD For like... THREE HOURS. It was awesome. I haven't talked to her in forever, and then she called and we chattered forever. X3 <3<3

Uuuumm.... going back to school in five days. Getting to drive... uuuummm....

I think that's it. ^^ Anyway. Random updates are random. Byebye!

Soo... I'm here at DJ and Laurie's house. I was going to say something, but I forgot what I was going to say. I'm watching Conan the Barbarian... and Arnold wasn't too bad looking when he was younger. o_O;

I found two other cousins. X33 They're so damn CUTE. I'm in love with them both. X3 And I made friends with them both. Zander clung to me practically. X33 Oh man. Adorable. And I found myself once again thinking 'I want oooonnnneeee' o_O; which is totally not like me.... except when I'm human. And I am. So I guess it makes sense. I got nice and tan. :D And gave myself sun therapy for my skin. ^___^

I'm sorry, I'm not really here. I had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach. I know, shame on me. But I didn't feel like saying no, and I wanted to try the wine. I know now that I really like Arbor Mist. That expensive stuff doesn't taste good at all. D:

Conan the Barbarian is on. Did I mention that? There's lots of music and not much talking and Arnold doesn't look bad. Well there he does. It was a close up of his face... but DUDE, have you seen the muscles on that guy? @__@ It's CRAZY. He's like freakin' GOKU. Doesn't have much of a nose, though, does he?

Anyway. It's been fun here. Can't sign into Gaia though. Makes me sad cos I wanna know how I'm doing in the comp, but... oh well. Anyway. It's late... .I'm tired... can't think... tata! Juust thought I'd do a random update.... random... y'know...?

To stand up, and not be afraid. To speak to my mother and to speak out to my family. But then I wouldn't have a little brother, ne? ^^; I guess things work out the way they do for a reason. I think I'd just tell her to hang in there, and not to do certain things during school. XD

So now that homework is completely done, I have nothing left to do except... nothing. o_O; Reading, writing, drawing, getting things ready to go see my Aunt and my step parents-- speaking of which, ERIN! Do you still wanna go up and visit them with me? :3

At some point soon I actually need to start re-packing. ;_; Aww....