Obsessively Ambitious

Yet another year has passed, and I am beginning to feel the subtle decline of passing thirty years old, even if I am still routinely mistaken for being several years younger. I have been relatively silent because I have been wrestling with higher-than-normal levels of bleakness and depression since the start of December. My body aches, my teeth hurt, and I sleep far too much — hours filled with dark dreams, haunted by past and present troubles. My mistakes and dissatisfaction with myself are consuming me. I have taken steps toward improving my physical and mental well-being, but each disappointment and failure is like quicksand clinging to my feet. I have a sense that 2012 will be the year that makes or breaks me. I have grown very weary of this fight, but my work is so integral to my identity that I also cannot contemplate existence without it. Perhaps I will find true freedom now that it feels I have little left to lose. Everything inside my head is crying out that I am running out of time.

The holidays were uneventful, but not without stress. Anything I would have looked forward to receiving was too expensive to ask for, so I asked for only a turret, which has taken up residence on my desk. Its quiet electronic voice picks me up when I need it. I don’t hate you, it sometimes reassures me. The money I received went immediately to pay bills, with very few exceptions.

Since late summer, I had been excitedly collecting and crafting ornaments for my Christmas tree. After a decade of the same colour schemes, and most of my decorations nearly as old, this year I decided it was time for a change. By Thanksgiving, I had assembled a beautiful tree — a creation I could be proud of. And almost no one saw it. Then I lost a significant amount of income I had been expecting from work on the side, and was unable to purchase most of the gifts I had been planning for weeks. And my Christmas was irredeemably soured. I packed everything away immediately after the holiday was over.

I am a miserable wreck, and currently seeing a dentist and doctors regarding issues of varying seriousness. This will probably interrupt work intermittently throughout the spring. My oldest male rats are about to turn two, and one of them has been to the vet repeatedly since late November for an aggressive respiratory infection. My truck continues to have problems, though I can drive it. I think it needs new spark plugs. My birthday is in exactly one month, and I am trying my damndest to not care. I really really want a shiny smartphone.

I was profoundly disappointed and frustrated that I was not able to complete enough work to make my monthly goal for December. I am in the process of streamlining my websites and better integrating them for cross-promotion. I would like to have a studio art gallery available again by the end of this year. I am exploring the direction I want to take my comic projects. But my art and photo printer needs expensive ink before I will be able to offer prints again. I have had enough of the maintenance and security upkeep for shopping cart software, and piecemeal design templates using dozens of files. I would like to migrate my store to a third-party service to make my life a little easier. But I cannot complete the move until I have funds set aside for several months’ worth of fees. And finally, most of my supplies are simply gone or gone bad. I need pencils, pens, inks, brushes, paints, paper… almost everything.

…the fifth of November. Our anniversary is less than three days away. Where does the time go? Matt and I have nothing planned except a quiet dinner at the same restaurant we went to after leaving the courthouse. To be honest, that is what I would like more than anything right now. These last few weeks have been ridiculously busy, and the holiday obligations are only beginning. I doubt I will get much respite until after the new year. How did this happen?

To no one’s surprise, our ex-landlords refused to refund our $80.00. Further, they could not even be bothered to acknowledge the certified letter I mailed with documentation of the preexisting damage. According to my research, the fees to file in small claims court total around $120.00. That is a serious bill for petty justice. I assume this is how they bleed the precious last few pennies of profit from their tenants, by withholding an amount not reasonably worth legal pursuit. Perhaps that is why they are property-owning landlords, and I am but a simple proletarian. I believe that I have four years in which to sue, so I may surprise them at some point in the future… I am extremely tired.

We are having neighbourhood noise problems, which I am hypersensitive to thanks to my past experiences. I just want a nice, quiet place. Fuck’s sake.

Matt was involved in an auto accident mid-October. No airbags deployed, and there were no injuries — though that has not stopped the other driver from making injury claims against our insurance. We floated in limbo for about two weeks while the status of his car was uncertain. Matt disliked the rental car he was assigned, which meant driving my truck more frequently than normal. This, in turn, caused some slightly expensive maintenance issues to surface. With Matt busy at work, I was handling most of the communication between the repair shop and our insurance company. Ultimately his car was declared a total loss, and I had to locate a suitable replacement on short notice. We do carry thorough insurance coverage, so we were left with only our deductible and the small difference between the settlement and cost of his new (used) car to pay. Even so, the situation was stressful and I am grateful it is over.

My truck has also been taken care of, at least for the next six months.

Matt and I both need dental work, which we are having to space out through next spring because a significant portion must be paid out of pocket. Nothing urgent or especially painful, it has just sat on the back burner for a long time due to inadequate dental coverage and lack of any noticeable problems. Yay. I cannot think of anything less pleasurable to voluntarily spend money on.

I have already received my Christmas gift from Matt: a Grayhound Skill Crane. Matt has a Street Fighter arcade cabinet, but the skill cranes were always my favourite game and I have wanted one for years. I happened to recently find one which needed very little work at an excellent price. I have plans for some customization and restoration. I want to fill it with GOSIG RÅTTAs from IKEA. Until Christmas, IKEA will donate $1.35 per plush to charity. Any contributions to my websites over the holidays may be specifically requested to go into the rat fund, if you like, and I will purchase rats until the skill crane is full. In this way you could indulge my childish delight — while helping actual children.

Since it is that time of year, I will also post the obligatory link to my Amazon wishlist, though I certainly do not expect anything. If you are considering any original artwork from my store, however, and do not use PayPal, through the holidays I will thankfully accept Amazon gift certificates via email as payment. I am anxious to finish putting together my home before Christmas arrives.

I am a person that generally watches very little television. Perhaps three or four hours a week at the most, if that. I have nothing against television, only relatively no interest in fiction. I enjoy the occasional educational program or documentary. I delight in so-called reality programming that exposes culture and behaviour that is foreign to me. Once in a blue moon, I catch an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. But my guiltiest pleasure — the thing that I cannot get enough of — is programming about hoarders. Nasty and squalid hoarders.

I do have hoarding tendencies myself: food, emergency supplies, purchasing especially treasured or rare items in multiples. But — I am also pathologically organized, loathe clutter, and relish purging unwanted or unused items. And I absolutely love to throw shit in the trash. What terrible people, what splendid messes! The disgusting piles of refuse and worthless junk laid out before the camera, like filthy landfill pornography. I want to bulldoze the houses, set fire to the rubble, and shovel the ashes into a dumpster. Scorch the earth below, and leave nothing behind but a serene field of emptiness. Glory, hallelujah!

Disregard everything for animal hoarders, which make me physically ill.

Last January, when A&E advertised the season three finale of Hoarders with a man they claimed had over 2500 rats, I was immediately apprehensive. As the episode began I had mentally prepared myself to shake with rage, to boil over with hate for what this man had done. Instead, I was blindsided by the pain of his tragic past, and the comfort Glen found in his rats. Seeing partial reflections of myself in his situation was unavoidable. Having struggled with depression most of my own life, I learned from experience the positive impact that these intelligent, unassuming, and undemanding animals can have.

After the episode, I was able to get in contact with someone directly involved in the rescue effort. I donated the remainder of my unsold store stock, about one hundred fleece hammocks, for resale or shelter use. I also felt compelled to reach out to Glen. Through the rescue organization I was able to send him words of encouragement and support, along with some artwork I thought he might enjoy, and a set of hammocks I sewed for his rats. Glen himself called to thank me a few weeks later, and I still speak with him every so often. He seems to be doing well. No more breeding; he dotes on his few female rats.

Much to my surprise, after filming the follow up episode, Glen contacted me to ask if it was okay that some of my artwork had made it into the filming. I was not sure to expect, but when the episode finally aired, I noticed that he had left a print and some postcards out on the table next to his rats’ cage. I think this is the first time anything I created has appeared on television. Sweet.

This post has unfortunate timing for me. I recently lost my elderly female rat after two weeks of fighting while her lungs and body slowly failed her. I had intended to write this more than three weeks ago, but collecting my thoughts has proven difficult. Rats are amazing creatures that manage to pack a lot of life into their two or three short years. They are affectionate, energetic, and forgiving without end. There has been no abuse, mistrust, or neglect that we could not overcome once a rat became part of my home. Even after so long, I have to smile when they rush to their cage door to greet me. Each one takes a piece of my heart when they go, but I cannot imagine living without them.

Andy’s Pet Shop and North Star Rescue accepted an incredible challenge with caring and finding homes for as many of Glen’s rats as possible. Many are still available, and the adoption centre has struggled for months to remain open. If you can spare anything, please consider making a donation to one or both organizations. On behalf of those without a voice, thank you so much.