Pixie Wildflower’s Neighborhood

Every year, I pass houses like this:

And this:

And even this:

Whereas mine more closely resembles this:

It almost makes me want to do this:

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

I've spent a lot of time on my blog and other places online talking about Ed and Fru. I was thinking about it a while ago and I realized that I rarely ever come out and talk about just Isis, even though she's a huge part of my life. In the last year or so, she's played an even bigger role in my happiness.

When I first got Ed and Isis, I remember being disappointed about how unattached I felt with them. I wrote a blog post about it here and I got a lot of great feedback about how loving pets can take time sometimes; it's not always instantaneous. Everyone who said that was right and I'm really thankful for their help. Isis is one of those kitties that took a while to warm up to me-- much longer than Ed. And in all honesty, the wait was completely worth it.

Isis: Face On

Shawn, Beth, and I noticed that there was something a little "off" about Isis when she first came to live with us. She was terrified of everything. Even for a kitty, the horror in her eyes every time someone walked past her seemed excessive. We all watched her carefully and then came to the conclusion that she was most likely abused by one of her previous owners. As far as we knew, she had at least two previous owners, but there could have been more. The way she ran away from people and ducked her head whenever anyone would make any quick movements made me feel like she had once been struck by someone-- most likely a male since she's always had a greater fear with them. I know that not all kitties are warm and cuddly (I've been around a lot of cats in my life), but the feeling I got when I saw the fear in Isis' eyes told me something extremely bad happened to her in her past. Knowing this made me determined to help her feel comfortable in her new life.

I first started noticing a change in Isis when I took her (and Ed) to the vet for a checkup about two years ago. Ed was pretty calm, but as usual, Isis was terrified. I gently picked her up and held her the entire time she was there. It was the first memory I have of her clinging to me because she felt protected and safe in my arms. I remember how I couldn't stop smiling. Shawn even mentioned that Isis and I were having a "bonding experience." Ever since that day, I've felt a deep connection with Isis.

Isis, Reaching Out

Since then, she's been slowly becoming more loving. I took advantage of that change and started to "work" with her more often. When she was really young, she wouldn't let anyone hold her and would claw her way out of a person's arms. (I have a scar to prove it.) I decided to take baby steps with Isis to help her understand that being held was a good thing. Every day, I would slowly pick her up and take her over to a window where we could watch the streets outside. I would talk to her in a very soft, soothing voice (very non-threatening) so she knew that I was still there with her. I figured that the movements on the steets would distract her enough so she wouldn't concentrate on the fact that I was holding her. Sure enough, Isis became used to being held by me. After a while, I was able to hold her for an infinite amount of time. In fact, I'd have to say that she now gets sad when I have to put her back on the floor after holding her.

These days, Isis is very relaxed. She's still afraid of almost all strangers (like a lot of kitties are), and most men. However, her attitude and mannerisms have changed to an enourmous extent with the people she's familiar and comfortable with. Isis no longer runs away when people are walking towards her. She doesn't duck her head quickly if people around her are moving their arms or moving objects around her. When Shawn and I walk in the door after being out for a few hours, she stays asleep in her kitty bed in the main room. If anything, she might look up at us to acknowledge our presence... but she doesn't run to a hiding place.

Sleepy Time

Whenever I'm asleep and Isis sees me curled up under my comforter and another very soft blanket I always use, she hops up on top of my stomach and falls asleep there. A few days ago, I woke up and was able to get off the couch without waking her up-- she stayed in the same spot, sleeping, for over ten hours! Most of the time, she's purring happily whever she's sleeping. And if I don't cuddle with her in the morning, which has become a routine for the two of us, she comes up to me later in the day and gives me sad mews to let me know she wants some cuddles.

Having two kitties who are so different from each other is amazing. Ed is friendly with everyone and is very sociable. Isis has grown into a kitty who chooses who to love, and if you're chosen, you feel like you are the most important person in the world. That's exactly how I feel whenever I'm with her. It was difficult for a long time for me to grasp the idea of Isis being calm and loving, but seeing her so happy every day has made her overall happiness a normality. I couldn't be more grateful for her and the fact that she's overcome whatever pain she experienced in the past. Her ability to move on and be happy has made me happy.

I dislike spending huge amounts of time in the bathroom. My daily purpose there is to get clean, and nothing else. My bathroom routine involves splashing cold water on my face, brushing my teeth, and hopping into the shower with some hypoallergenic soap. It usually takes no longer than 20 minutes for me to finish.

Now it's getting near my birthday/Christmas, I've been getting many gift sets with bath items in them - and no, I don't smell, so I'm not going to take it as a hint. I do love getting presents (see my earlier posts on T-shirts and the like), but...

I don't use shower gels or body scrubs or bath bombs or body lotions or anything else that comes in one of those sets. EVER.

Bath sets are to me what socks and jumpers are to everyone else at Christmas.

I have tried to use them before, but they just delay my shower/bath, and turn what should be a 5 minute event into a 30 minute process. After managing to open the damn bottle with wet hands, lathering it all over my body, and finally managing to wash ALL of it off, I've wasted valuable time that I could've spent doing something else.

It doesn't help matters that my boiler is on the fritz, and hot water only comes out at random intervals. In between using the weird expensive shower gel that I got as a gift from my mother's French friend and washing it off, my water supply goes from scalding hot to nothing to absolutely freezing in a matter of minutes.
It's a rule of thumb for me that I try to avoid being hurt by my wonky boiler for as long as possible. But the longer I spend in the shower, the more chances I have of being burned by the hot water. Yay me. >.>

My skin has also become increasingly sensitive in the past couple of years. This means that 9 times out of 10, whenever I try to use a nice-looking shower gel or body scrub that I got from a friend for a Christmas/birthday gift, I'll end up with a massive itchy rash.
Even the body lotions that come with them eventually make me want to tear my own skin off with the reactions they cause.

...I've given up.

I love the shapes of the delicately-wrapped bottles and tubes of lotions and gels that I get every Christmas, but they never get used, and will sit in the corner of my room, gathering dust.

[...If you want a free bath set, here's your chance! I've got about 10 in a pile in the corner of my room. They've obviously never been used, and probably never will be. Most of them are also perfectly safe to use until 2020 or something.]

If you're really stuck on what to get me as a cheap gift, some tubs of E45 cream will make me ecstatic.

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

I know I really, really, really like something when I start buying merchandise. I especially know I'm starting to get addicted to a service when I want to wear T-shirts advertising them. I've bought band T-shirts in the past, but never an actual T-shirt for an internet service.

I mean, the top item on my birthday wishlist for this year is this:

I'm starting to think I'm spending way too much time on Twitter. But what better way to show off my obsession than by getting a T-shirt?

Last year, when I plurked obsessively, I would've killed for a Plurk T-shirt, and would've worn it everywhere I went.
...Actually, now that you think about it, although I don't plurk much any more, I still want one.

You listening, A-Team? I know you love me really, with the pictures I've been photoshopping onto your screenshots and the awkward poses I've been unearthing from disused folders.

Look how pretty it is! Sure you don't want to make a sweet innocent ickle girl happy for her birthday in exactly a weeks' time? *pleading face*
[OK, I may be laying it on a little thick, but shh.]

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

Hello, and welcome to my first non-post of December. It's times like these when I forget why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for NaBloPoMo for another month. I mean, I have enough inspiration to keep me ticking over for one month, but two is pushing the limit. Definitely not trying this again in January.* I've done more writing in the past month than I have in the past 5 years.
Considering I did absolutely nothing today but cry for my sore muscles, there is absolutely nothing to blog about.

Blerg.

* Well, I say that now, but some craziness at the end of December will probably mean I end up clicking the "Add Blog" link and regret it for the rest of the month.

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

What's your favorite thing about the holidays? Least favorite?

Hmm my favorite things are spending time with my family and shopping xD  Least favorite thing about the holidays would definitely be the traffic.  x__x

I generally dislike strenuous physical exercise, and always have done so. I never learnt how to ride a bike, and - shh - have forgotten how to use a skipping rope. [Neither am I the type to run up and down hills every day, but I have to, otherwise I'll end up being late to everything I go to, but I digress.]
I'm also the owner of a gym subscription, but like most people, have difficulties in actually using it every week. There's just too many things to fit into a Sunday.

Despite all of this, I am good at running... When I want to. Note the "when I want to". At school sports days, I never saw the point of "running just to get to the other side of the field", and would nearly always come dead last. But when running for a bus or any other form of public transport, things are different. I once chased a bus for half a mile in high heels, because it was the last bus of the night and I had no other option.

Although I rarely do any physical exercise, I'm not fat. I eat a normal, balanced diet. I weigh a perfectly normal weight for my height. And all without wasting years of my life at the gym. I have a slight muffin top, but that can easily be fixed with a few more sit-ups.

So when someone who runs a lot makes me feel shitty because I actually feel pain after walking a distance they run every day, all I have to say in response to them is... SCREW YOU.
I may not like physical exercise, but when I do manage to do it, I work hard until I can barely walk the day after, because it makes me feel good eventually. But this event only happens occasionally, because with the endorphins comes the pain. My muscles will always cramp up after doing any form of exercise, and my stamina will never be all that great.

According to people like you, I'm 'unfit'. But to be honest with you, I don't think I care any more. I don't spend hours calorie-counting and making sure I work off all the food I've just eaten, and still manage to stay around the same weight and size. I couldn't be happier with the way I look. A UK size 12 may be big in your eyes, but it's perfect for me. At least I don't have to starve myself for it.
So take your pilates and your spinning and your morning runs and stuff them in the face of someone who gives a shit.

Because - guess what? - that's just not me.

...Now, I'm going to go and have an (almost) midnight snack, because all of this "typing in a fit of rage" thing has probably sucked out many, many calories. And we wouldn't want that to happen, would we? ;)

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

Last night, I mentioned feeling guilty for not making deadlines. Today, I still feel guilty, but for another reason.
My mum phoned me a few hours ago with news about my aunt (through marriage to my mum's brother). The news: My aunt's mother died a few days ago, at the age of 91. My first reaction was, "Um. OK. What do you want me to do about it?"

The fact that my aunt's mother was still alive/had existed at some point in my life was news to me. Apparently, I met her once, when I was a toddler, in a meeting that I obviously don't recall. I emphathise with my aunt, who has just lost her mother. I'm sorry for my uncle, who has just lost his mother-in-law. And of course I'm upset for the cousins that I've never met, who have just lost their grandmother. A little bit of the same sadness I would feel if anyone I knew lost a member of their family. But whatever I'm feeling, it's not grief, or even sadness. This is where the guilt comes in.

My aunt's mother was not related to me in any shape or form. I had only met her once. I bet she was an amazing woman who lived a long and happy life, but in theory, she was a complete stranger to me. So why do I feel so guilty about not managing to have any feelings about her death?

EDIT: I know it sounded really callous when I wrote this blog post out, so here's a a brief reason of why I feel the way I feel: I just don't know my family.
I don't talk to, and have no way (and no desire) of keeping in contact with my relations at all. I have no siblings, have only talked briefly with two of my first cousins on my mother's side, have never met/don't remember meeting the other two, and have never met my father's side of the family due to some stuff that happened after his death two weeks before my birth (I know, it can get complicated. Does it help that I was born on 14th December?). Oh, and I dislike the few relations I have met.
I've had more conversations with my mum's first cousin's daughter than I've had with any of my first cousins.
It may not help either that there's a massive language barrier between most of my relations. Although I'm fluent in Thai, I don't like speaking it to people I don't know well, and I can't understand their attempts at English. My immediate family circle consists of my grandmother, my mother and myself. In effect, this means that within two decades, I'll have no family at all. Go me!

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.

I'd forgotten how good it feels when I meet a deadline on time. The relief, the "thank God it's over" feeling, and the warm fuzziness I get inside... This lasts until I'm hit with another deadline.

For some reason, I find it hard to work at a computer. There's too many distractions floating around on my screen, and before I know it, I've wasted several hours watching videos when I should be writing transcripts. Sometimes, I'll  deliver things hours late, sometimes even days. But whatever I am late for, it makes me feel extremely guilty. Especially if I'm supposed to be getting paid for it, and there's no other person that can do it.

The guilt I feel when I hand in something late has become such a frequent part of my life that it had started to feel normal. Get told to do something by a certain date, miss that date completely, spend time freaking out because it's late, finally managing to do it, and freaking out again because it doesn't reflect well with my employers.

Today, when I actually did something on time, the feelings of happiness it gave me reminded me that the guilt I usually feel when I miss a deadline isn't normal.

Which makes the guilt I'm going to feel tomorrow for missing another deadline all the worse.

Originally published at rammi.glomp.me. You can comment here or there.