The Feline Considered.

I know I haven't posted in months upon months. Heck, I'm not even sure if anyone reads this anymore!

Still, it's grand to hear from any and all of you who manage to get yourselves together to pokeakitty!

Lets see...I've taken in two strays named Antel and Amanda. Amanda's a headcase, moving out in a couplea months. Antel is a young transexual like me. Sweet kid, bad past, we're hunting her up some work.

I've been writing an awful lot lately. Mostly whilst talking to other people. Talking to my dad too. I like him, which is a strange thing to say I'm certain. I've known the man for nearly twenty four years. Hell, has it been that long? Seems like last week. Anyway, known him twenty four years and he's different every few years. Changes like the wind and yet somehow always stays the same. He's a sweet old codger one day and a Zen monk the next. He's got a brilliant mind I can't ever get over even now into his midsixties. I'm hoping they manage to lick Alzheimers before he gets it but he's not even showing early symptoms. His heart will probably get him first.

My exercises have made me stronger...a lot stronger. I am committed in a way few humans can recognize. A year say I, a year to be a beautiful, strong, muscular woman. I want men to look at me and say "There's a woman who I'd have to ask." rather than "There's a woman I can take from."...I want to be able to protect my friends and loved ones. Being strong seems the best way.

I don't know how long it'll be before I post again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never, but I wanted everyone to know I'm still alive.

Fox left me two months ago for a job in California. Rat bastard. What can I say? Three years worth of a relationship doesn't mean much when someone's waving an internship with a gaming company under his nose. Still, everyone agrees I'm better off for him being gone. Being alone doesn't do good things for me. I've found myself talking to my appliances more than once. Great ornate and interesting conversations too. Antel's smart but she's not very developed. I'm giving her time to get developed.

S'been a while since I had sex, male or female. I want a lover. I want my gender transition but dear gods, I wanna get fucked. I'm like that sometimes. Take care friends. Poke me if you're interested. I'm a good kitty. Promise.

Well, I decided to give these livejournal communities a shot, starting somewhere with what sounds like a terribly interesting premise. I'm a girl from somewhere in Wisconsin but then most anyone interested is probably going to go nudging about through my profile and see that.

I figure it's a good time to meet people though and networking here should at least be interesting. Give me a poke for conversation! I'm available most of the time and while I would like some long and erudite introduction I'm afraid my brain has all the substance and aesthetic quality of tapioca on a soy cracker at this hour of the morning.

Well, lets see...how on earth do I tell the world how badly I under-estimated the sheer evil of Wal-mart?

Alright, best to start at the beginning and see how this all works out. I went to work for Sam's Club three weeks ago. I worked extra-ordinarily hard and had commendations from two managers and my team lead for my work there. I was always working and never took a long break, missed a day, was late, or otherwise had problems while working there. I had a grand total of eight shifts, two of which I was only there for half of but got allowances from my managers and team leads to leave early. Then I was fired, without warning, without any particularly solid reason (Unable to perform job. I can lift 220 pounds like it was nothing and I can't do a /stocking/ job?).

Now, during the time I was there, we had three nights when there were no managers in the entire building and I had to be let out by a team lead. Two nights I was without a forklift driver for my entire section and was relegated to grocery for one of them and simply told to go home for the other. One night, we had no plastic with which to wrap pallets and thus couldn't stock /anything/...at all. I am in no way a racist, but I did notice a distinct difference in the treatment of the African Americans working there and the whites.

While I was there, I was harassed for being less than heterosexual by one of the black men who did markedly /no/ work in any of his shifts. I'd seen him take an entire night to arrange and stock one single aisle whereas I'd finished the entire electronics and furniture section by myself. After I spoke to management, they said it was being dealt with. To the best of my knowledge, he is still working there.

The dress code was in more or less continuous violation. Sagged pants, do-rags, unbound long hair, ipods and mp3 players, loud music playing constantly all over the store...the list goes on and on. Two of my friends who'd worked there over a year were fired at more or less the same time up just as spurious grounds. We acquired a new manager who was responsible for /all/ of the firings. A black man named Jerry. I don't know whether or not it was racially motivated.

Right now, I am again, looking for work. I'm in bad shape financially too. God dammit, I need a break.

My, my, my, what an interesting few weeks. I've found employment. Nothing major, just a Sam's club job. I'll be overjoyed to start though! Mrowrsh!

Lets do the various bits of math of late.

Erica, my best friend whose made mention of in previous entries is pregnant. Seven months pregnant. This is the ex-hooker, stripper, drug dealer, drug addict, felon mind you.

The guy who got her knocked up (surprise surprise) is dumb as a rock. She's apparently intent on having this child and wants me to be the godparent. The real beauty is that Erica went to a party with this guy and his sister and him and his sister got blackout drunk and the people at the party dumped them both in the same bed, thinking nothing would happen...something /did/ happen and his sister's pregnant so he has to take care of her instead of Erica. Thus, I face either becoming the godparent of Sicily Moonbeam Weiner or letting the child devolve to the system when/if Erica gets arrested again.

My friend in LA, Kelly, is freaking out. She and her little brother had people over and Kelly got pissed wasted and since the bathroom was taken, decided to use the catbox instead. Her little brother walked in on her squatting over the kitty litter, freaked out, and told her parents that she'd been drinking.

Fishy-boner is down in Texas. She's one of the supremely awesome souls in Wisconsin and I miss her a god-awful lot.

Fox is doing quite alright. He's still on his ongoing voyage of self discovery where what he wants to actually do with life is concerned. We need to get it all worked out. Poor boy must discover /something/ he's passionate about.

As to me...I'm good. My sistercat, Klepsy has job interviews left and right for September which will allow her to free herself from the constraints of England and I will find my way out of America and into a new land. Preferably Canada. I'd love to see Canada.

I keep having this unpleasant reminder whensoever I get on Live-journal that this world rotates in strange ways around strange ideas.

I've got updates left and right I could be making but decided just a brief post would have to do. Love and cuddles to everyone!

I didn't really think it was possible to /be/ this bloody stressed. Oh well, will survive. How're things peoples? Mrowr...Chessie's braaaain dead. It's been a crazy month and next month's shaping up to be nuts too though hopefully in better ways.

I had a bit of a 'run in' with DiveFox today. A lovely little threat involving 'haunting me like the memories of last night's rave'...I threw him, his mate, and mate's mistress on ignore. I said some pretty nasty things to the three of them which, predictably, prompted some very 'drama whore' responses. With any luck they're gone. I see no need to commune with them now, or again. Dive's the only one who worries me being that he's thoroughly out of his mind.

Mrrr...well, lets see...MFF was fantastic. The first or second most exhausting experience of my life, but fantastic. My sister's in some variety of emotional tailspin which has her so low she can barely take care of herself. My mate's in something along the same lines except he's working retail. Blech! I am keeping a positive outlook god dammit if I have to write positive in permanent ink on my own ruddy forehead. Merf!

Well, here's an interesting and probably long-ish update.

Over the last month I've had Gothcat and Frost Leopard living with me as part of a 'deal' to get Wags Lion a place to stay and some roomies. While these two are not bad people, they fight a lot, they fuck a lot, they have left an unbelieveable mess in my home (I am...scared...by this mess) and I will be glad to have them gone.

Aside that, I've found a new roomy whose /not/ gonna make a mess and who'll be moving here in early January! Awesome! Now, Chessie just needs a job. The two roomies I've had for the last month are gonna be gone tomorrow so I'll have time to clean. My sister and her lover are coming here for MFF...yay Klepsie! Eeee...so much to do! I've got to clean up a buncha shit, make everything ready for them. It's trippy.

Ahhh, well, such is the way of things. Somehow the room mates have managed to make a 1800 dollar paycheck vanish in less than a month. Their total rent for the whole month was 431 dollars. They had to put gas in the car each day so we'll call that another 80. They paid 100 bucks for food, then I guess we have to account for things like...gyah, who am I kidding? They blew it on marijuanna, cigarettes, and frivolous bullshit then wanted to ask Fox and I after the hellish month we just put in if they could have 'till Monday' because they were counting on Frost's /father/ to send them more. They should have plenty of cash unless they were so thoroughly irresponsible with it that they spent themselves into a hole. We had a deal, they're out tonight.

Okay people's, Chessie's actually alive again. Not much has changed since the last entry. Still need work, still trippin' out, still kind of fluffed. This is more of an update type thing so people know I am not in fact dead. Read my news blogs for info. www.iwillpress.blogspot.com. I might already have plugged there here but I felt it needed to be said again. Take care everyone! Send love!

I have had the...oddest two weeks you can imagine.

Monday Week 1-Ryanne's suicide attempt. Guess who she leaves with the suicide note. It's still in my email. I'm considering just erasing it because I know why she tried to kill herself. Or at least, I know the reasons.

Tuesday-Job hunting and an offer to enter into prostitution with a man named Jim who lives in Wisconsin who will pay for my transition under the condition that I let him fuck me regularly. I told him I'd rather be stabbed in the face than have that tiny dick anywhere near my ass. Now I'm regretting saying it.

Wednesday-Had a friend request to keep her trained sexual animal lover at my house this weekend while her parents are in town. The dog is a malamute named Sandy with an errant tendancy to put her head between people's legs. Very expertly.

Thursday-Cleaning self inflicted cuts on a friend who was having issues with her boyfriend. Don't ask me why she chose me to play doctor.

Friday-Counseling Erica's ex-boyfriend Jim (another one) whose insanely neurotic. I spent hours talking to him. This boy has layer upon layer of issues.

Things were reasonably normal for about four days. Sleeping, eating, hunting jobs.

Wednesday-Mia calls me and wants to go out to dinner because she's decided to skip out on her parole finally because she was fired from the job she was using to maintain it. She's leaving the country if possible and asked for my help. I gave it and am the only one who knows where she's going.

Thursday-Finally got together the gumption to threaten to sue my own mother for control of the trust fund so I can transition. This trust fund is useless where it is, sitting waiting for me to go to college. I am a bad person for doing this I know.

Saturday-Fox's mother tries to find out where we live. I was...verbose...very loudly...while he was on the phone. I think my exact words were "If she ever shows up over here without calling first I will happily raise these two fingers, turn her around,and tell her she can't come here unless there's a phone involved beforehand."...Fox and I lived in perpetual terror of her for nine months because she would just /come over/ without announcing herself first. We were fucking on several occaisions when she just showed up.

Today is Monday. I am...waiting for Ryanne to get out of the mental hospital. She should be out fairly soon. Somebody give me some ideas here. In the space of two months, my Dad's had a heart attack, my mother's had her car reposessed, I've been in an auto accident, I've lost my job, I owe my mother two months worth of back insurance on my car, and this list of stuff, aside the various online events I can't really get into. Is this stuff normal people have to deal with /all/ at once? I mean...all together at once? It's freaky.

Ryanne Phoenix, age 27, attempted suicide today at 7:49. Chessie talked to her less than fourty five minutes prior. Ryanne asked her for forgiveness. Chessie tried to get in touch with her again for an hour. Two hours later, she called the police in Connecticut. Ryanne is alive and in stable condition.

Over the last year, Chessie has counseled Ryanne repeatedly through numerous emotional and psychological trials. She has never in her time ever met anyone so fiercly intent on survival as Ryanne and yet Ryanne has repeatedly attempted suicide. This must be laid down before it's lost.

Tonight, the last time Chessie spoke to Ryanne, she was not speaking to the same person. It may seem ridiculous, but Chessie has an extensive personality profile for this person and it was not the same one. Ryanne is characterized by intense emotions, strong feelings, and a powerful intelligence which is often indiscrete. She is a recluse in many ways. Today, she was calm. She tried to die. That burning sparkle of life was gone. Ryanne was dead before whatever method she used got anywhere near her.

My reading on her today left no doubt as to what she would do. There was an intense psychological disturbance there. I believe this to have been brought on biologically. I have no evidence to back this up for now, but I have a theory. I felt an utter despair inside her. Complete, total. She'd hit bottom and was capable of anything. Ryanne is alive for now and will be observed for several days. In the meantime, Chessie waits. I was the last person she spoke to before she tried to die. I'm still in a state of shock right now, but this isn't the first suicide I've presided over. Or attempted suicide. I should have gone with my instincts. I should have just called the police the second I knew. Don't make any mistakes about me knowing. There was no question in my mind.


Either way, this is the first one I was able to talk to the person directly before (the others I was either the person people asked to go get whoever was attempting suicide or I was the person who doubled as ambulance.). I'm not sure what to do right now. I can barely feel any portion of this. Maybe it hasn't set in yet or I've just gotten used to horrors. Somebody give me some ideas.

Hmmm...well mew. I'm in a state. Frankly, I want out, want away, want free. I have a large number of friends who rely on me for emotional support. I'm tired of giving it. My networks of friends haven't gotten me a new job or any ideas for making a really stable life here. I'm still grieving over my last job. Grieving over a job. How absurd is that?

I have such a list of things to maintain. I want to have a job so desperately it aches in my belly. I have three people I'd like as room mates. Reed, Kari, and GreyRunner. All three have reasons they cannot or will not be able to come and reasons they intensely want to. Kari and Grey are /miserable/ where they are. I know this because they told me. I'm tired. I'm sick and tired of listening to other people's problems and being expected to solve them. Grey was right, I am not the perfect solution. People expect me to be though. I don't get it. Meh, I'll stick this in my private folder. Nobody needs to see this crap. I want one person to get online, wrap their arms around me, and tell me they had a great day and they're happy with their lives and doing great things towards making them even better. No more misery else very soon will come a time when Chessie will wash her paws of people until she's healed.

This is a closed journal entry. Kitty lost her job and is in a bad spot. We'll work on it.


608-232-0678

My father had a heart attack on Thursday. He's going in for surgery tommorow. No idea how that'll turn out. I'm a mess right now. I have two weeks for fox and I to be out. We're moving next week. Our housing application hasn't been approved yet. I don't know if it will be.

I need a few seconds of stability very soon. Not the...madness...that's pervaded every move I've made over the last few months. What I need more than anything right now is somebody to talk to who cares. I want some information on what I should do right now. I feel so alone even though I know I'm not. I'm frustrated and I have very little time left. If anyone gets this, send me a pat between the ears and it'll work wonders. Kitten's in a mess and unsure how to dig herself out.

The Foxboy and I are moving out of his grandparent's house at last. In the next two weeks, we'll be out of here. I'll send my new address to everybody whenever they're on...mrowr. At worst, I'll be offline for a few days. We're moving into a place just a few miles from where we're living right now, so it's not a gigantic move.

Um...mew. If you know somebody who needs a room...pleeeease message me! We're looking for a third room mate! Meow!

This is hopefully gonna be a super short entry if I can make it one. Fox and I are moving out of his grandparent's home in one month. I have an unspeakable amount of stuff to do between now and then, not the least of which includes find an apartment. Fox hasn't decided if he's coming with me or going back to live at his parents home then finding his own place. I'm head over heels in love with him, the dumbest thing that could possibly happen. I swore this wouldn't happen and idiot that I am, it did. This week he's going to his psychologist and she's going to try to help him sort /some/ of this out. I'm scared as close to complete incomprehensibility as I can remember being in a long long time. I want to get drunk, I want to play videogames, I want to get stoned...none of which will help my situation one bit. I cannot escape what's to happen.

I hate needing someone else, but I need him. Not just for rent, but because he's as close to the perfect mate for me I've found in a long time. I've gone through a lot of people, met a lot of people. I know a lot of people, I've listened to a lot of people, and despite the differences between us, I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't claim to believe this'll be how it always is, but we need our run, our try, and when it's over I can let it go and not be hurt if that's how it'll be. Unfortunately, his parents hate me passionately. I mean truly they're getting dangerous about it. The closer the deadline comes, the less sure I think they are where he'll go and for this reason, I'm dangerous.

I need to relax a bit. Please, feedback, ideas, thoughts, offers for sex...kitten needs a major booster!

Meeeesh...okay, I want to register a meow with someone about anime/sci-fi/gaming cons that don't have that furry saving grace. For anyone who knows of it, there's a little local convention in Madison Wisconsin by the name of Oddcon. It's five rooms and a dealer's place.

It's been said before that I have really low biological tolerances for fanboys/girls. This may have been a slight exageration but the urge to skin them in public with meat hooks...that's...well, that's just /me/.

I'm currently contemplating a permanent vow of non-con-goage to anything other than fur cons. Somehow seeing a nine foot tall skunk curled up hugging a grinning half naked bunny boy in bondage gear is less disconcerting to me than watching a poorly made up seventeen year old Gandolf nervously trying to pick up women, paper mache staff in one hand, empty beer bottle in the other...now, if either of these were singular events, they'd be unremarkeable...but this convention was full of people under basically the same imperitives. Furs are weird. We're proud of it. All I feel from this load of disenfranchised emo-goth virgins, escapists, and pissant over the hill geeks clinging to the media binges of their long lost youth is shame. They don't meet your eyes, they stand in corners, they shiver in fear watching a playful kitty cat and a fox cavorting on a sofa.

I'd understand this fear better having not seen an inflateable sex doll dressed as Sailor Venus being dragged down the hall.

This may seem strange. I have some kind of vague fear that the more deeply I explore myself lately, the farther the rift between me and the rest of humanity is growing. Not the external one. I can still smile, put on a pair of pants, talk on the phone for hours on end...but it feels different. Not bad, but I keep catching myself staring out windows or examining things more closely for that finite bit of life that clings in glowing little circles around the moments we drag away from the distractions of life outside, of jobs, of IKEA catalogues, and adherance policies.

Sitting in the bathroom stall at work this morning, I just leaned back, closed my eyes, and said rather loudly "This is a great shit." I wasn't referring to my morning BM. The job makes me necessary, but some sickened hunter gatherer woman/man beast is finding out very quickly how much she/he/it wants to let go, be freed of this. The breakroom buzzes with college basketball stories, the 'real' court shows, and car and auto magazines. They don't disgust me or repell me. I know it sounds like that.

It's kept me a little distant from the people I work with, not that I can't talk to them. They don't want to hear the truth about their world outside. Not just the bad things, but the good ones either. It's shit that shocks them, that scares them in it's quivering, sticky, shrink wrapped, pre-packaged, lobotomized, and grinning skeletal humanity. I sit there and know very very silently, that a close friend of mine was re-united with her twin brother and married him six months ago. You know what I keep thinking? More power to them. They're happy. Don't they deserve happiness? Screw it if it's ammoral, screw it if some Jesus junkie, some hyped up glazed eyed, bible cracking, ex-choir boy sex slave wants to put their story on the front page of the Christian Science Monitor.

Steaphanie leans against the doorpost of her Texas home on a sprawling sixty three acres. It's been weeks since she bothered to wear clothes, going about her chores, taking her hormones, pissing in the field with the horses. Sometimes she sleeps in the barn, comforting a new mother and her foal. Tonight, there's a storm. There's a drum roll and the rain, cutting into her face. Saddling up her horse, she rides out to gather her herd back into the barn in a pair of black boots and a manic smile like a pentecostal under a skylit cathedral, shouting in tongues, one hand buried between her legs, masturbating into the storm. How can moral superiority compare with that?

I know I sound like a rabid little liberal idealist hugging the American dreamstate of perfect release from all chains. At a point, some sort of thick hearted realization came. Hope is a chain. I'm not sure where my growth is going now, but it's upwards and outwards.

I'm a kitteh working...it amazed me when I heard about it. I couldn't believe they'd make a cat work for her dinner...but it's not so bad! This job isn't horrible and I only have to do it five hours a day. The fraud calls are a little unpleasant because of errant urges to strike down Nigeria (something like...90% of fraud calls come from there. Scary.) but aside that, it's a good feeling helping people communicate. I mean, it's boring at times, but I can deal with boring. Meditation, stretching, sleeping (only with your eyes open...this is a skill that operators develop.)...waiting to be able to go home. I'm happy for now. I'll be glad to get some money and be able to start looking for another room mate for Kai and I so we can move out soon.

Feel teh crotch of doom...eee...okay, some of my randomness does come through. Can't help it. Paws down, we'll see how this goes. Be well everyone!

Well meow...I start work next week. Five days to find something better. Meesh! I'm happy that I'll soon be working but at the same time...I have to question whether this is going to be an abuse ridden job or not. Truly, I have no desire to be broken down by the screaming masses until I'm just another shell person. This job apparently requires me to put up with a lot of garbage, but then, apparently any job will do that. At aaany rate, we'll see. What I'd really like in a job would be something simple, with clear objectives, and a nice ideology. Maybe I should start a church. I've toyed with the idea for a loooong time. It's a nice thought. Lots of tax breaks. Mew!

Mmm...interesssting. Okay, kitteh is sitting at home, laptop in paw, leafing through my e-mail. Most of it's class stuff, but I've got a piece here from somebody who actually found my other Blog (www.iwillpress.blogspot.com). I was under the impression that was a relatively annonymous blog, but okay. At any rate, this person, whosoever they are, took exception to some of the things I said therein and spread it to a buncha friends. This is my /third/ post there and I'm getting hate mail already. Goddess...I wonder if journalism is really where I want to go or if I should just pull the mailbox up in the front yard. It's /creepy/.