A Heart's a Heavy Burden

So, I had a looooong day at work and just needed some couple time. I feel like I've been taking Steve's love as a given and therefore a bit for granted. That's not cool. So we went shopping at our favorite B-ville mall, got cutie dinner, horribly messed up Caribou coffees - I ordered a small Northern Lite Vanilla Latte hot, he ordered a medium espresso cooler. I got the espresso hot latte and he got a vanilla cooler. BLEHHHH. But I choked it down among teases from Steve. ("So uh, how's that coffee taste?" "It... has flavor." "Oh, so you like it?" "I ordered a coffee drink, and it has coffee... And flavor." XD). Got a few cute new items and bleach + blue hair dye.

Then we went to our favorite GameStop and I found one of the few PS2 games we don't own - Tales of Legendia. Even if it's considered one of the worst Tales games, it was pristine, $20, and OMGPS2!!!!

Get home, start bleaching my hair, and stumble upon a STATUS ON FACEBOOK my mom posted about my sister having a seizure in downtown Minneapolis while driving and crashed into a parked car. While it turns out she's okay at this point and wasn't seriously injured, and a nearby police officer witnessed it and sprang into action, when I read the status and thought about if my sister had been on the highway or otherwise in serious danger... I sort of awkwardly burst into tears. It was Leah-bursting, which is more like a slow build-up and very full eyes but lots of wiping of the face, but shit! Here I was all having an amazing day, and my only sister could be fucking DYING in a CAR ACCIDENT. Jesus. The fear of what would happen if I lost her went almost out of control. She may be at rock bottom, but I love that girl.

After I spoke with Mom on the phone (and sufficiently made her feel bad because I got so upset), I finished dying my hair. See here! I loooove it. I wish I had done more blue and maybe not attacked my bangs so hard with the scissors, but I get so frustrated at how quickly they grow! I JUST got my hair cut. Ugh.

Sooo, I'm reading this book based on the incredibly terrifying and gruesome Hi-Fi Murders. Steve says I'm morbid. I know I am. When I was in 11th grade and had to find a skeleton picture as the cover of my Shakespeare reviews or whatever, I spent hours discovering gory death pictures after that was the majority of search results. I haunted my dreams with awful ways people look after being murdered or committing suicide. The Hi-Fi murders are particularly horrible because they were planned deaths of random people. That is, the primary killer decided that he would horrifically murder anyone present during the robbery of an electronics store. The book is non-fiction, weaved together from interviews with the survivor and anyone involved (including the murderer) as well as testimony from the trials. The book is highly detailed to the level I desire, which only intensifies the effect. I've spent two lunch breaks with teary eyes wallowing in the despair the family experienced and is poignantly captured. I was talking to Steve about how amazing it is and at one point he burst out laughing because I "Leah'd" - a term with many definitions but is frequently referenced when I tell unnecessary details because *I* would want them (the example in question was where I was talking about an investigator and felt the need to explain that he was actually sort of retired and not the *main* investigator but it's still cool that the murderer in this case is also the murderer in the ONLY unsolved homicide he had). I was most moved by a man whose wife and 16-year-old son were both involved in the murders. He describes how it felt to face his dead wife in all her ruined glory and having to come to terms with the fact that the woman he was with for 36 years and was his "partner for life" was gone. Yep. Just gone. No more. The end. Never coming back. Over. And how he had to be strong while each of his other family members mourned after they arrived at the hospital and that he had to close off his heart to the fact that his life partner, who he was JUST talking to before she left to find their son (AND she was frantic with worry at the son not returning home yet and he told her she was overreacting. Think about THAT guilt), was dead forever. I explained to Steve that for me it would be a CONSTANT immediate back-and-forth where I would tell myself that information and then swiftly reject it with an "IMPOSSIBLE NO IT'S NOT TRUE IT'S NOT I CAN'T ACCEPT THAT FUCK YOU IT JUST SIMPLY IS NOT POSSIBLE I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS AND NO TAKE IT BACK." Rinse and repeat.

As a result, I should not have been surprised to have a similar heart-wrenching dream in which I left a church and drove by many crazed velociraptors (naturally) and when I arrived at his office building I KNEW that Steve had been attacked by raptors and I was frantically trying to find out where he was and I went to the hospital to find him and I was screaming for him and I knew he was dead but I couldn't accept it and I knew I would try to take it back when I found his mangled body and I kept willing him to be alive and not hurt. I woke up with my "trying to cry" face on, breathing all heavy and terrified. I immediately rolled over to Steve and cuddled him super hard and could not let go of him for several hours. And of course when I tried to fall back asleep I had to try to force the remnants of the dream away so I could stop trying to manipulate it and fail. My dreams like that go in endless circles as my brain refuses to allow a proper ending. But seriously, when I imagine that he could just *poof* and be gone just like that from my life, I feel exceptionally suffocatey and hyperventilatey and will it never to come to pass (which Steve also includes in my morbid thinking category). He is just the most important person in my life. If I think about it hard enough I want to keep him locked up at home so nothing bad could ever happen to him. Thank god I don't want kids because I'd freak every time they left the driveway. This exact thing is why I HATED the movie Practical Magic - the moment when Sandra Bullock thinks that she and her husband's love will overcome the curse but then there's that stupid cricket or whatever and she tries frantically to catch it but can't and her stupid husband dies anyway. NO. NO.

In other news, I officially applied to grad school for an ABS license, which will be a broad licensure allowing me to teach levels 1 and 2 of EBD, LD, and Autism and I can go back again to get licensed for 3 and 4. I went to the informational meeting and everyone there (prospective students as well as faculty) agreed that the type of license is a great investment and there's been a growing need for me-types.

Steve and I are also doing what we're calling "ghetto week" and seeing who can make the best of of $20 from Friday to Friday. This of course does not really include not spending anything, because it kind of ruins the fun. So we each got a $20 bill to spend on whatever we like for the week and we aren't allowed to spend anything more (excludes gas). It's easily doable, but we're so frivolous with the money we don't put in savings that it's a cute game for us to be frugal. Yes, we admit we are privileged, even with me working a crappy-paying job.

I called the cops on the couple upstairs again. I honestly feel like I should have a bunch more times, but unless I hear something distinct, I can never tell if it's a fight or coincidence (and it's not illegal to get into screaming matches). I learned something new - the woman is a small younger Asian, and she did not look beat up, and her face did not look the way it had sounded just minutes before, which was a relief.

I guess they actually spoke to the police officers in a more meaningful way this time, stating that they just get loud and the woman said she was really stressed and that makes her shriek, basically. The cops said something like, "Yeah, I mean, all couples argue, but when you concern neighbors... blah blah blah." I really wish that I could just be there to be like:  I AM AFRAID FOR YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU SCREAM LIKE THAT AND I HEAR HEAVY THUDS. I AM NOT TRYING TO BE A BITCH, I AM NEARLY LITERALLY TERRIFIED OUT OF MY SKIN. D:

It's one of those things where, on the one hand, what I hear scares the shit out of me and always sounds like a murder in progress. Which then makes me feel like the cops are assisting in this culture of violence by waving it off with the couple and laughing like "Ohhh yeah, you guys! What silly relationship antics you get into! You even bug the neighbors!!" On the other hand, how many times do I have to say that Dan and I fought like hell too, and it would have been really embarrassing to get the cops called on us, because it really was over nothing. We were just loud and stupid and stomped around, angrily trying to see who could one-up the other in the insult department.

Actually seeing the woman helped me out SO much. By the time the cops got here, she was standing outside the door with her keys, probably so mad that she wanted to leave, but (I found out when the cops asked) she's the lease-holder, and he's not, so she has nowhere to leave to even if she does. I wanted so desperately to talk to her, at least get an idea of what her life is like and whether she is actually in an abusive or just loud relationship, and EXPLAIN to her that I was trying to make sure she wasn't dying - nothing more.

Literally. I was laying in bed with Steve after I got home from work, naturally sans uncomfortable jeans, and we were dozing. I had a long day at work, and Steve had to go to bed late because he had to take his car in. I heard several thudding sounds and what I thought was yelling. I immediately was awake and on edge, listening very closely. With loud sounds you can almost never tell if someone tripped, dropped something, or got smacked to the floor. I was especially on edge because a few days ago I heard suspicious noises but was unable to confirm whether it was a fight. The second I heard "No, stop" followed by another thud, I popped out of bed, whipped my pants on, and ran (quietly) out the secret back door we have that goes to the rest of the apartments.

This is not a neighborhood where if there's physical violence going on, that you can just go tell them to stop. You're likely to end up in a bad situation yourself. It's definitely the type of neighborhood where everyone mind's their business. This became more obvious to me when I realized that, unlike the apartment we viewed within the complex but a different building, there are two residences on each side, instead of one. That means that if *I* can make out words through the CEILING, the people next to them surely hear more. Anyway, I wanted to again confirm I heard what I thought I heard, so I snuck up to their door. I head what sounded like "I'll slap you again", so I ran back to my apartment and called 911. For some reason, whenever I dial that number, I get the biggest surge of adrenaline EVER. I shake uncontrollably and my voice shakes too.

Three policemen ended up coming out, and I was careful to not be seen (don't want to make enemies). I heard the guy tell them before I was in my apartment (but out of sight) that the noises that were heard "were from a different floor" but he did admit they were arguing. How could he not, when the police entered the house and saw her crying? They stayed for like 10 minutes talking to the couple. I hope she's okay. The thing I've been wondering is, what happens when the cops leave, especially if he can't exactly take it out on her (well, he can, but he hasn't) since she didn't call them. Do they just sit and stare at each other? People in violent relationships don't just then calmly talk things out. I wonder what they do.

I haven't been in a physically violent (romantic) relationship, and the only experience I have personally in couples is where both people are beating the crap out of each other, so they both feed off of that rage. But what about when the one is submissive and crying and being demeaned and threatened? It's awful. While I'm glad I called, I'm still worried about the future for her. And I'm worried I'm going to have to call again, since this is obviously not a one-time thing. I hope I bought her some peace for awhile.

I had a very stressful weekend. Scratch that, I'm still really stressed out.

On Friday Steve and I were planning Joe Waid's birthday stuff, when I noticed Grim was acting strangely. He was licking himself a lot, and then suddenly just hissed. At nothing. I immediately got very concerned. Steve and I watched him for awhile, and he pretty much was walking gingerly, tail tucked, and licking himself. Then came the occasional bursts of a meow I'm not familiar with: the mournful one. I laid him on the floor and felt his belly. At this point I thought maybe he'd eaten a rubber band or twist-tie. He didn't yowl until I got super low, so I thought maybe he had a UTI or bladder infection. Steve suggested we take him in on Monday. Right as I was going to agree to wait a bit, Grim meowed one of those really distressed meows. You know the kind - the low, scary-movie type. I decided that whatever our plans were, we were taking Grim to the vet first.

I set out the cat carrier a few minutes before Faith arrived, and he crawled right in. He didn't make a peep on the drive, and he hissed only once when the nurse tried to take his temp. He was very mellow, and loving. After Faith and Steve left to explore (it was a Banfield clinic in PetsMart), I was told he had a blocked bladder, and then I was shown this gigantic list of things needed to do to him. The doctor told me that he likely would have died if I waited to bring him in (this was later confirmed via Facebook stories from friends, and the internet) as a result of kidney damage, heart attack, or a burst bladder. I left him with them, and then was anxious the rest of the day worried about him. I'm not ready to lose him!

The vet called in the evening and said that his bladder needed a lot of pressure to unblock, but that his blood tests came out good, he only needed one X-ray and didn't have stones, and his kidneys were undamaged. Bottom line: I caught it way earlier than most people do. They kept him overnight with a catheter to see if his urine cleared up, and it did. The bad news: the bill was $825. When they showed me the estimate (which was $900), I almost fainted. That hurt, it really did. But I'd rather be set back than without a Grimmy.

Blocked bladders are almost exclusively in male cats, and a large number die as a result of their parents misunderstanding what's wrong with them. They are recommended to be put on a special diet (the bag I bought yesterday was ridiculously expensive, and I needed the prescription to purchase it). I was given Buprenorphine, a derivative of morphine, to give him three times a day to help with the pain from the catheter. As a result, Grim is uncharacteristically passive, won't eat or drink, and tries to pee every few minutes (sounds familiar to me and my UTIs). The drugs help with the irritation and keep him calm and euphoric.

On the other hand, Nero is treating him literally like he's dying. He won't go near Grim, hisses when he sees him, and is apparently trying to establish his role as the New King. I don't like it one bit.

P.S. Icon is his namesake.

I was getting ready to leave for work when I came across my double feature of 28 Days Later/28 Weeks Later. I stuck it in my bag for Isaac, my work partner, because he loves watching scary movies in his downtime. Probably because it's hard to fall asleep to a scary movie.

Just being in proximity to the movie made me ultra paranoid. When  I got in my car I saw shadows and thought someone was running up to my car. Turns out it was just a truck coming down the street. And when I got to work I thought the same thing, but it was just a resident coming out for a smoke. It is SCARY. I couldn't sleep for days after that movie. I kept thining someone would break in my windows and come get me.

I don't watch scary movies that often just because of the above reason. I am a huge baby for movies. Let me remind you that while I LOVE Jurassic Park, I have nightmares about velociraptors every few months, and I haven't seen that movie in years. 28 Days Later terrified me to my very SOUL. I think it's the scariest movie I have ever seen (but I know it's incredibly personal and probably lots of people didn't find it as scary). I thought it was really well done. It put it into me just how scary it would be to have nowhere to go, that your very scent is what made it easy for the infected to find you. Nowhere was safe. Talk about PTSD-inducing, being in that situation.

28 Weeks Later, however, I thought was a little overdone in the gore, and I thought the catalyst for disaster was incredibly stupid and unrealistic, which made me mad for the duration of the movie. Other than that I bet it actually was pretty good. I was too busy glaring with my arms crossed and stuck on the catalyst to enjoy it.

But other movies that are supposed to be realisticish, like Quarantine, annoyed me and weren't scary at all. No person in real life would act as stupid as the characters in that movie did, especially professionals like army men and cops. Any movie that has a REALLY STUPID way to get everything in motion ie what makes the Peace start falling apart and Havoc takes over, ruins the entire movie for me. For some reason The Ring was scary the first time I saw it, but then lost its charm. The Grudge was really scary because of the intensity of the jump-inducing effects. I actually was mad that the American version had an American actress and a real story. The original is better.

The Chaser, a Korean thriller, was very well-done and could really happen. It is about escorts disappearing and trying to get to the bottom of it. It jumped between the murderer and main character escort, the pimp-like guy trying to solve the mystery, and the investigators. It was really good. One thing I really like about foreign movies is not having to tie everything up into a pretty little package with a happy ending.

Like I Am Legend, why the fuck change the ending to the original story? I hope anyone who's seen that movie also saw the cut-out alternate ending. SO. MUCH. BETTER. and makes a hell of a lot more sense. Of course, the book is a million times better just as most books are.

Hostel was also a terrifying movie, because again, it really could happen. I was very afraid of that movie for awhile too, but when I heard the sequel was pretty much just gore porn, I decided not to see it. I don't need gore to be afraid. As for the original, I thought it pretty well done and well thought-out, but I'm not sure if I have the stomach to see it again.

Overall, I'm not actually much of a thriller buff. I don't need to see scary movies, and I once-in-awhile get the urge to scare myself, but I need a safety net rpesent so I don't die, too.