Perfect Storm

I put my ad back up in the morning. I'm good. Tim said he'd be over around 9, and he was a few minutes late, but it worked out because Julian slept in. When he woke up, he asked what happened last night and I filled him in on what I could. He mentioned how excited he was about our creativity last night and with the soupauce. As you're aware, I find creativity to be almost a kink. I hadn't started the scramble when Tim arrived, so he set out the tofu, olive oil, and rice vinegar, then had one of the vegan cupcakes Rachel gave us for our engagement or wedding. It was my first time making a scramble with thawed tofu and I kind of forgot how to make a tofu scramble. I didn't squeeze them out of water completely so they'd hold their shape and I could cut them into ribbons. It was fine, it just could have been a lot better. And I've got to remember to try things as I cook them. I ate the last of the pizza from last night while I cooked, so I didn't end up eating any with Tim. I have no issue with leftovers and figured it wouldn't be in demand. We talked about the mechanics for the talk show, who to have on, and how to structure it. He's going to be my co-host. Not only are we delightful, but Tim will serve as the temperer for my oddities. Someone has to hold the kite string. Great analogy, and my parents have commented many times about my tendency to wander off when something catches my attention. I'm goal-oriented. We talked about who to have on - both everyday folks with something to say and community leaders like Tootie and Fernando so folks can get to know them outside of their claims to fame. When Julian came back from Terry's he seemed a bit Grumpy again but was mostly fine. He wanted to know what he would do on the show but he never showed any interest in it previously. I can certainly try to include him in the production somehow. I talked about the memory of looking at the 52 when I was a child, wondering *who* all of these people were on the freeway, what their goals and dreams were, and what particular Quest they were on at that moment. And I remember the similar, if slightly darker, intrigue wondering what gas station attendants wanted to be when they grew up. What they'd want to do now. Tim said it was a sign of my bipolar. Makes sense, really, because I found the former to be intimidating and strangely depressing and the latter was obviously depressing on its face. We also talked about Tim's related goal of starting essentially an open source news network and outlet for his investigative reporting past. I'll help with both the promotions and managing the Youtube, et al, channels.

Julian had to go back to Terry's and unfortunately stepped on Pupple's paw. Pupple yelped and went ballistic. Like Marcos before him, Julian wanted to calm him down, pet him, hold him, etc. Unfortunately, that's exactly the wrong thing to do when you've pissed off a Chihuahua. Tim kept reassuring him that these things do, in fact, happen all the time, not his fault, etc., and I finally just told him to leave. Pupple calmed down, Tim and I chatted a bit more, but after a bit of time had passed, Julian stormed back in, shouted at me that I would NEVER kick him out of "his" home, grabbed another beer, and started storming out. I corrected him immediately. He is not on the lease. He is homeless, staying with me, and more than welcome to leave at any moment. He frequently accused me of valuing my furkids more than him & his and was predictably enraged at my confirmations. It got pretty ugly. When he left again, Tim talked to me some. He's been on the receiving end of this strain of venom in my fangs and is very experienced with Julian. Julian had a tantrum out of fear and frustration. I'm uncomfortably well aware that Julian's tantrums were a form of emotional abuse, so I'm intensely sensitive to them. We need to look into behavioral retraining, which I guess is used a lot with children? From my perspective, I just grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Turns out people don't react the same way as dogs do, though. Also, it was absolutely my straight up phobia of vulnerability coming out to play.

Tim was supposed to interview someone, but they got cold feet and ended up ghosting. I stayed with him as long as I could, but I had to get going for D&D. Especially since I missed the last session, I wanted to make sure I was on time. Amazingly, I was the first person there by a long shot. Also fine. We started when we had enough players "present, physically or virtually. Unfortunately, Terry came over at that point and asked to talk to me. Julian had been talking to him about everything, though not all of it was true. He told me about some potential positions, including a driver for Door Dash, etc., and asked me to talk to Julian. I walked over and we talked some. Unfortunately, I don't recall most of it. I am told that my finishing line was that "this shit is toxic. It's breaking & bankrupting me." I was about to hop back into game, but Julian asked to talk to me at home. It was surreal. I could almost see both his rage and his insecurity. He freaked out about how much stress and pressure he was under which was certainly effective, but not as effective as it would have been if he didn't constantly say he was under too much pressure, had too much to do, etc., even when he lived at home with no job. He said he wanted me to show his cats I love them, but couldn't come up with how. Especially given that I was already paying for everything. He wanted me to take them in, though that would just make taking care of them my total responsibility, instead of just financial. Then demanded I pay for an apartment for him, since I helped Tim with his rent for a couple months. I kept explaining that he was supposed to pay me back throughout the month and that his inability to do so is why I stopped. Julian kept "forgetting" that and repeating that I have to rent an apartment for him. He also kept interrupting me and it turned into a shouting match. Possibly worse was that after I apologized for that particular brand of venom and promised to try to only use it as a last resort, he wanted reassurance that I'd never throw him out. But I didn't threaten to throw him out. I just reminded him I could, and his presence here is entirely his decision within that. But he demanded it. Said he was entitled to my place, since we're married. Generally yes, since he officially updated his address to be mine instead of C/O, but his emotional abuse would be good cause for me to throw him out. This was as much a power struggle as it was a tantrum. I repeated much of what I'd shouted to make my position, power, and the hierarchy clear, but instead said it quietly while holding his gaze. It was something my dad used to do. It felt alien. And a little creepy. And a little gross.