I haven’t blogged in a fairly long time. I keep telling myself it’s because I am too busy now that I have a job, but the truth is my life is so boring that I don’t really have anything to write about. At least that’s how it feels.
So I’ll try to catch you up since the last time I wrote a blog, which was in October. In the two months since then, I have mostly been working at a law firm as a legal assistant here in Atlanta. I also tutor twice a week, so I feel like I’m doing some community service.
That’s one thing that really upsets me down here. It’s hard to break in to community service. I feel like I’m missing a component of my life when I can’t go out and do something for the community. Also, when I was in college that’s how I made friends. Now it feels like I work solely for the man, and squeeze in service when I can find good opportunities that fit in with my schedule. For example, this past Saturday I went to a Toys for Tots event with the people I kickbox with. It was really fun. You donated a toy to get in, and then we did kickboxing with the marines. After that, they showed us how they do their boot camp exercises. It was really exhausting, and I am still sore from it, but they raised almost 2000 toys last year and hope to get more this year.
I guess my biggest issue is that I don’t really have a place to belong down here in Atlanta. I don’t have a group of friends my own age. I don’t have a group of people who like the same things that I do, but who actually want to hang out with me. A great example: My law firm Christmas party was this past Friday. We stayed at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead and went out to eat at a fancy Lobster Bar. My bss easily dropped $4000+ on the night. Sean and I just sat silent most of the night while everyone else drank and carried on. It’s just not really our scene. It was hilarious, mind you. People who you see daily, all professional in the workplace, letting it all loose for a night of fun. By the end of the night, I was lectured on politics, job choices, money, etc. One guy was so drunk he was making sex jokes to the driver of the car we were picked up in. My boss was showing videos of a hockey game on his iPhone and pretending like he was actually at the game while in the car. Sean was noticeable uncomfortable. Fortunately, most of the people in the firm were long past noticing the obvious, like the fact that they’d all had WAY TOO MUCH to drink. Oh well, free night at the Ritz, I suppose. After dinner, Sean and I got in bed and watched the Discovery Channel, a channel we can’t afford.
In other news, Catterson had to go to the kitty emergency room last week. It seemed like a normal Monday. Sean got off at 3:30 (because he goes in at 7:00 A.M.), and texted me that the cat threw up. Nothing new there. She does this every so often because she hooves her food like someone is hovering over her waiting to steal it. Then, I’m on my way out the door of work and Sean calls me, there’s blood on our (white!) quilt. I tell him to take her to the kitty hospital down the road, and I cancel my tutoring session. I arrive and Sean and Lyra are in the waiting room. This is the part of going to the vet that I hate. We’ve been twice now, once for bladder inflammation, which is what I’m assuming is going on in this situation too. Every time the vet asks me incredulous questions like I’m a juvenile who cannot handle myself much less a pet. I’ve had cats my whole dang life. I know how to do cats. So the vet asks what and how often we feed her. Since our last visit to the vet, we feed her wet food twice a day with water mixed in (our fancy cat) to help her keep her bladder flushed. She asks if we’ve changed her food or litter. Not since our last vet visit when such was recommended (that was October). She asks us how often we clean the litter box, like her peeing outside the box with bloody urine is because I’m too lazy to ever clean the box! We clean it every day!
Even after insisting that nothing has changed and that we take good care of our cat, the vet says there’s barely proof of a urinary tract infection (bloody urine is barely a sign), and that it’s mostly caused by stress. And then the killer——we may want to consider putting our cat on Prozac. She informed us that she gave her an antibiotic and anti-inflammatory shot that’ll last 2 weeks, and a kitty depression shot. After that, Lyra was like, the meanest cat ever. She didn’t come sleep with us like usual. She didn’t snuggle. She was barely interested in her laser dot. I don’t want to put my cat on Prozac, because when we do she doesn’t act like a cat. At least, she doesn’t act like herself. I’ll keep you up to date on the cat Prozac deal.
Meanwhile, I feel like my whole life is a giant display if going through the motions. My job is dull. I work out, go to work, go to tutor, come home, sleep. Becoming a fitness instructor seems more exciting than being at my current job. At least I’d make friends there. If I could, I would spend all my time working out. I’d live at the YMCA just because there are people to talk to there.
And adding to my disgust for Atlanta was the poor excuse for snow we got yesterday. While my hometown was delightfully pummelled with the stuff, we got one of these quick and angry dustings where no snow actually stuck or stayed. I feel like the weather here reflects the general attitude of the people. They are all angry, in a hurry, and do what they have to do and leave, not bothered with their intrusion upon anyone else. Atlanta feels like one giant cranky place. I miss Tennessee. I miss having friends. I miss the mountains. I miss freaking snow.