Cuddling

That is all.

Old Friends

A friend I have known since the 6th grade is having a birthday next week. She's the same age as I am; well, she is six months older which I repeatedly reminded her of today. Anyway, I was thinking about getting older and friends and thought of a friend I haven't talked to in years... actually, over a decade. She was probably the best "real" friend I had in college. I checked MySpace for her nickname and couldn't find it. I checked Classmates and found her. It was eerie because I felt relieved she was there. I mean, she could have some outdated email in there, but I just took comfort in the fact that I "found" her. I went back to MySpace, tried a few variations on her name, and ended up finding her... as I knew deep down that I would.

The thing that made me laugh was that I just read this quote today, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." And I really liked it. Then, when I found my friend's page, that same quote happened to be in her extended network box. Things with us were always weird like that.

Her page is private, and I couldn't really see her in her picture. I want to message her, but I know I won't. I found her a couple years ago and didn't message either. I don't know why. I'm just not in a "friendly" place, I guess. Plus, I sort of disappeared on her years ago and can assume I hurt her pretty badly. I was an asshole. I still think about her, though, and miss her. I hope she is doing well. I hope she is happy and in a good place. And I hope she is not thinking about the birthday we have coming up this year... though, somehow, I think she is.

I miss you, Jen.

Uh...

I just realized that I am old enough to be considered a "cougar."

Not that I am a cougar.

I'm just saying.

Getting old is frightening.

This is almost scary as the day I realized Shredded Wheat actually is delicious. And that I almost now prefer it to the Fruit Loop and the Apple Jack.

At least I don't need Metamucil yet.

Chase: The NICE Credit Card Company?

Well, being a moron, I accidentally ran my credit card over the limit. I was trying to "overlook" sharing this tidbit with S, when I got a surprising letter in the mail from Chase. The letter so surprised me, though, that I ended up sharing it with him--and, thus, revealing my faux pas with the credit limit. Here's what it said, though:

"We understand that no one likes to pay additional feed as risk losing charge privileges, so we would like to offer you a help in bringing your account balance under its credit limit. Over the next three billing cycles, we will not assess over limit fees on your account. We hope this fee waiver period will provide you with sufficient time and greater ability to return your balance below your credit limit, and bring your account back to good standing.

No over limit fees will be charged during the next three billing cycles. At the end of the three cycles, if your account balance remains over limit and you use your card to make a purchase, the over limit fee will be reinstated..."

So, given the evilness of credit card companies, I am wondering what the catch is. Granted, I did just open a checking account with them. Perhaps this is a nicety for giving them some more business? Yet, they cut my home equity line of credit long ago when the value of my home disappeared. I can't help but be suspicious... yet, it seems like this is just a human thing for the company to do.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they keep raising interest rates and making people who pay their bill on time pay them even more. Credit card companies are evil. If a normal person tried to charge 28% on borrowed money, he or she would be charged with loan sharking. If it's a credit card company, though, it's a-okay. Nevertheless, I still think this is a nice gesture... because they could be taking even more advantage of people when they are having tough times than they are.

Way to go, Chase.

My Hero

Sometimes I think animals have more power than we realize.

I will admit that I am a dog person. Although I have deeply loved cats in my life--four of them in particular--dogs have been the pets I couldn't live without. When S came into my life, he brought M, the gorgeous fellow shown on the left. My dogs went to live a few miles down the road with Grandma and Grandpa, but I still see them everyday, all day at work.

Living with M has been different. I can't roughly pet him. I can't make him sit on my lap. I can't spazz out with him; well, sometimes I can. Nevertheless, I quickly learned that our relationship is on his terms, which can be hard for a dog person to comprehend. M does have his moments where he wants to be lovey, though, and those are the times I most enjoy with him. Lately, he's been snuggling next to me on the couch at night--not on my lap--but next to me. He has also crawled into bed with S and I the past couple nights... which brings me to my point.

I was having the worst dream the night before last. I was in a situation I didn't want to be in, and I didn't know how to get out of it. While nothing was going wrong in the dream, I felt trapped, conflicted, and fearful--and I didn't know what to do. It was at that moment that M walked by the car I was dreaming I was in. It took a moment to register, but I was like, "Hey, that's my cat." Then it dawned on me that he was loose and I needed to get him. I was in a busy toll booth area. I got out of the car and he started to run away, leading me away from what I wanted to get away from. Then he ran behind the line of booths. I was held up trying to pass through security, and I kept yelling, "Stop that cat! Please!" Then a nurse grabbed him, but he scratched her. An Asian man met the same fate. Several other people were trying to catch him for me, too. Finally, I was free and starting to run toward him... when I woke up. And when I woke up, I opened my eyes, and M was laying directly in front of my face, staring into my eyes. He gave me this look as if to say, "I want you here; don't go to that place again." Or, to put it in more M-esque lingo, "Stick with me, Kid; you'll be fine."

It just felt like he was looking into my soul. I know that sounds tacky, but he rescued me from that nightmare in a very symbolic way... and he is my furry hero, my step-cat son. It is similar to how the dogs know when I am down and need them, and they magically appear to check on me and make me pet them. M did the same thing... just in his own subtle, cat-like way.

The Nikki Catsouras Tragedy

A couple weeks ago I saw an article on the AOL front page about Nikki Catsouras. I saw a smiling girl, read she had died, thought it was a shame, and chose not to read the article lest I be depressed the rest of the day. Today I found myself thumbing through a Newsweek in a waiting room and found the same picture looking back at me. As I started to read the article, I was appalled to learn of the other pictures of Nikki Catsouras that are circling around the internet--some 3 years after her death in a horrific car crash--and of the torment and pain they have caused her family.

For those who don’t know, 18 year-old Nikki Catsouras crashed her father’s Porsche while driving around 100 mph and with traces of cocaine in her system. Her body was so disturbing that the coroner didn’t allow her parents to identify it. Then, by some mysterious accident, the crash photos that were taken for the California Highway Patrol’s investigation were leaked by two officers, Thomas O’Donnell and Aaron Reich (who received slap on the wrist punishments), including one of the teen nearly decapitated and still strapped into the car. Subsequently, the photos went viral on the net and were published on over 1,600 websites. While many sites have pulled them, many others have not because it is their “right” to post them--and because the people who run these sites are in an apparent competition for title of the most pathetic excuse for a human being on the planet.

While the internet is filled with macabre images, we often don’t think in our desensitized society that those images can cause people pain. In this case, the photos and the scum of society who have posted them have caused a grieving family to relive the horror of their loss on a daily basis. Not only do they deal with the fact that their daughter’s privacy is being violated as cretins laugh and spread the pictures, but they have been personally targeted with the pictures. Nikki's father received an email claiming to be regarding a real estate deal; however, when he opened it, it contained a gruesome photo of his deceased child and the text, “"Woohoo Daddy! Hey daddy, I'm still alive." Nikki's mother went to pull up the directions to a hair salon named “Legends.” When she entered that name and her city, Nikki’s death displayed because she has become the “legend” of her town. One of Nikki’s sisters was in school and listening to an auto-safety lecture when a firefighter brought up her sister; overwhelmed, the young girl ran from the room. Her schoolmates added to her pain by putting copies of the photos of her dead sister into her locker; needless to say, Nikki’s sisters are now being home schooled. The entire family is not only having to deal with the loss of their loved one, but the heartless spread of information about her—which stemmed from the release of her car crash photos.

Newsweek reports that that entire family is in therapy and that they have taken out a second mortgage on their home in order to pay for legal expenses in their fight to ultimately be able to put their daughter—and the photos—to rest. So far their legal battle has resulted in one judge stating that a deceased person’s privacy does not extend beyond the deceased. The family has appealed, and on June 1st they will be before another judge. Some experts believe their case should be overturned, especially since, according to Newsweek, “the Supreme Court ruled that the government could deny Freedom of Information Act requests for the photos based on a family's right to survivor privacy."

When one thinks of all the pieces of the case, he or she has to ask, “Why?” It is a hard question to answer. Has humanity sunk this low? I used to believe people were more “good” than they are. A situation like this one, though, makes me understand S’ argument that the “vast majority of people are despicable.” From the email Nikki’s father received to the pictures stuffed in her sister’s locker to the billboard someone wanted to rent near the family’s house to display the photos, I am wondering why people want to torment others so much. Why is there so much hate? And I think I have at least one answer for this case: jealousy.

Several sites have referred to Nikki as everything from “Porsche Girl” to “whore” to “coke head.” Others have posted things like, “What a waste of a Porsche” or “R.I.P. Porsche.” The epitome of jealousy was the comment: “The rich bitch deserved it.” Apparently, money is all these envious people care about. They see a pretty, privileged girl and their own self-loathing for their situations fuels their anger and hated. No site I saw mentioned the facts of Nikki’s life, which include the following from the aforementioned Newsweek article:

“The family's life wasn't as idyllic as it seemed. In third grade, Nikki was diagnosed with a brain tumor that doctors didn't think she'd survive. It turned out to be benign, but 8-year-old Nikki had to undergo intensive radiation, and doctors told her parents the effects of that treatment on her young brain might show up someday—perhaps by causing changes in her judgment, or impulse control. Her family believes that's why, the summer before the accident, Nikki tried cocaine and ended up in the hospital in a cocaine-induced psychosis. She used cocaine again the night before the accident, her family says. Lesli and Christos discussed checking her into a hospital, but decided against it: she was to visit a psychiatrist the next day, a specialist on brain disorders. So they let her sleep it off.”

The next day, however, Nikki suddenly took the car she wasn't allowed to drive and lost her life. I wonder if one person who posted horrid things about her even knew about her struggle… or even faced such a struggle in his or her own life.

I hate to admit it, but I did research sites claiming to have Nikki’s crash photos. I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to see the pictures; rather, I wanted to see what sites were still posting and advertising them in order to find out who is responsible for the sites. You see, I recently received the following notice for some domains I own:

“In accordance with ICANN (Internet Corporation of Assigned Names and Numbers) Whois Data Reminder Policy (WDRP) resolution 03.41, this message is a reminder to help you keep the public WHOIS contact data associated with your domain name registration up-to-date... If any of the information above is inaccurate, you must correct it by contacting your domain name supplier, hosting company or web services provider by either calling them or visiting their web site. If your review indicates that all of the information above is accurate, you do not need to take any action. Please remember that under the terms of your registration agreement, the provision of false Whois information can be grounds for cancellation of your domain name registration.”

Knowing this tidbit of information, I wondered if the a-holes who owned the sites that psoted pictures were abiding by the rules of ICANN. And guess what? They aren’t. Miraculously, all info on the worst site that is out there is listed as “unknown” on one whois search. Another whois search of that same site listed the owner as being someone in the Ukraine with a phony email address. In fact, the database lists 47 whois changes on that one record. It looks like someone is running scared. I mean, it takes balls to post these pictures and then hide your identity, doesn’t it? The only good thing about this fact is that the owner of the site can be reported and possibly have the domain pulled if they do not post valid information. Even if the person privately registers the name, their information is on record so a court-order can be served to make the person pull the photos if the Catsouras' are sucessful in their lawsuit... and hopefully papers a civil lawsuit can be served against the person as well.

I have one word for those who are spreading these pictures and making hateful comments: karma. What comes around does go around. Eventually you will lose someone you love. You will hurt in ways you never imagined. And hopefully you will suffer from the knowledge the pain you caused others who were in a similar situation--others who included little girls, as young as 6 yearsold, who lost their big sister. You will be lucky if you experience this pain. Because if you do, you may agonize over your actions so much that you truly pray for forgiveness. I think that is one of the only things that is going to save you from sweating profusely for all eternity.


********

To help the family of Nikki Catsouras:

There is a tribute site up for Nikki at http://www.supportnikki.org. Unfortunately, the petition on the site isn’t working. However, another petition exists at http://www.thepetitionsite.com/petition/661936431. There aren’t many signatures yet, so sign it and forward it. You can also visit another tribute site for Nikki at http://www.myspace.com/300948762. This site also provides the contact info for Governor Schwarzenegger (http://gov.ca.gov/interact) and President Obama (http://www.whitehouse.gov/CONTACT/); it can’t hurt to send them an email about this situation. You can also contact ICANN at http://www.icann.org/cgi/contact/ and report that there is faulty registration information on nikkicatsouras.net. As the June 1st trial date approaches, other opportunities to help may also be posted on other websites. Finally, you can always say a prayer for Nikki’s family that they may finally find some peace.

The Reader

I just finished watching The Reader, a film based on a novel by Bernhard Schlink. I have to say that I am left with an empty feeling that I just can't describe. It is a similar emptiness to the feeling I had after watching The Lover. I feel drained and hollow.

When this movie came out, talk swirled about the image of the Holocaust it presented, the impropriety of an underage sexual relationship, and the superb acting skills of Kate Winslet. So much focus was one Winslet and her character that I think most people missed that fact that this film actually delves most deeply into the character of Michael, her co-star, portrayed by Ralph Fiennes and David Kross.

A Wikipedia entry describes the story as dealing "with the difficulties which subsequent generations have in comprehending the Holocaust; specifically, whether a sense of its origins and magnitude can be adequately conveyed solely through written and oral media." I disagree. The Holocaust is not the focus of this story, and if one thinks it is, he or she is missing the mark. Additionally, the IMDB database tags the film with the line, "How far would you go to protect a secret?" And a great portion of the film is dedicated to answering that question. However, it also misses the mark. While it is easy to focus on the shock of Hanna's history, we have to remember that it is actually Michael and the struggle his character faces--not only with what Hanna did while working as a Nazi but also with the ramifications of their affair on his entire life--who is the underlying focus of the film.

Many people have lost this aspect of the film by becoming too caught up in the hollywoodization of the Holocaust to let themselves see and feel this underlying current of the film. Some will argue the film was about the redemption of a person who took part in atrocities, and others will argue it is about the realization that we do not know everything about those we love. While those elements are parts of the film, the bigger picture--when seen from Michael's perspective--is that it is a film on the consequences of our actions and the vulnerability associated with letting ourselves love. So while there's been much discussion about the portrayal of the Holocaust, about the post-war guilt of Winslet's character, and the realization of one generation's wrongs by another, those arguments focus too much on Hanna. In reality, The Reader is about just that: the reader, Michael. It is his plight we see, his pain we feel. And, through his story, we learn this story is about the disturbing realization that one choice can effect our entire life, a choice that may or may not be our own.

In The Reader, a choice was made in the first few minutes of the film: a rain-soaked Hanna offers to help to an ill Michael. Had that help not been offered, and had that help not been accepted, the ensuing tale, which is predominately about Michael, would not have come to be. During the entire film, we see Hanna's life through the window of Michael's life. We see the after-effects of their affair resonate throughout his years. Even though the majority of the plot is about Hanna, the emotion the viewer feels is for Michael and the fact that is whole life is framed by a single choice he made when he was 15 years-old. Hanna was the first woman he knew, and her lack of emotion and his coming to terms with her actions deeply scars him and still haunts him 40 years later. His entire view of women is effected by that solitary choice. We see that he cannot be open with girlfriends through the years, nor, we assume, his wife whom he divorces. He goes to one of Hanna's female victims, at Hanna's bequest, and blankly turns to her for an answer that isn't coming. He doesn't even trust his own daughter until the end of the film--and he only does so after he comes to terms with his feelings for Hanna.

Attention is obviously focused during the film on what Hanna did as an SS officer to the Jewish women she monitored and the harm she caused them. However, she also effected Michael's entire life by their one summer affair. Can the argument be made that she harmed him more than the women? It may be a stretch, but it is worthy of discussion. We see the torment he faces over the sudden loss of Hanna when she disappears. We see him struggle as he comes to terms with the horrors the woman he believed he loved committed. We see him fight himself to allow her to make her own choice, even though it hurts her. We see him come to terms with Hanna's lack of humanity. And we see him grieve her death. Yet, that pain Hanna causes him isn't his only suffering. Because of Hanna and how consumed he is with her, the ramifications of their affair effect him in his relationships with other women and ultimatley lead him to live a life not unlike Hanna's: while she is locked in a physical prison, Michael is locked in an emotional one--until he breaks free and reaches out to another woman, his daughter.

Once this film is viewed and digested, we forget about Hanna. We forget about Michael. Yet, we still have an emptiness. Why? It is the knowledge of what one choice can do. It is the deep fear of making a mistake that we all have. We wonder: is life predetermined? Are things meant to be? Is it fate? Is it God? Why do we follow the path we do? And how do we deal with regret when we make a decision that effects us the rest of our lives? To me, Michael's life is regret. He was an innocent, and he was more plagued by regret than Hanna, who had every reason to live with it every day. Whether she did or didn't face that regret is up to the viewer to interpret. Whether she was redeemed is up to the viewer. Whether she is forgiven is up to the viewer. Also up to the viewer is the decision of whom Hanna most victimized, was it actually Michael? Was it, in fact, the reader?

Further reading on the controversial nature of the film:
http://mjhblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-thoughts-on-reader.html
http://www.slate.com/id/2210804/
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/jan/02/the-reader-kate-winslet-film

Mean Carrie Prejean

My nausea meter is maxing out on the whole Miss California gay marriage thing. I was happy that it finally seemed to be blowing over. Then I read the May 25th issue of Time and saw it mentioned yet again. It was in the “Briefing” section, where a head shot was posted on the predictability meter. Under “Shockingly Predictable” it read: “Miss California passionately defends her right to infringe on others’ rights.” And, I thought, “Really?”

Let’s actually take a look at this claim…

First, since when is it infringing upon a right to state one’s opinion? If I say that hamsters shouldn’t wear pink tutus and eat PopTarts, am I infringing upon hamsters’ rights? Since when has stating an opinion been infringing? I live in a state where the KKK has had their first amendment right protected, via police intervention, so they could spew hatred. So they are allowed to preach white supremecy and be protected, yet a woman can’t say she believes a marriage is between a man and woman in a beauty pageant without infringing on someone’s rights? Really?

Second, since when is stating a commonly accepted belief wrong or an infringement? Isn’t that just normal? If I state that I don’t think we should drive through red lights, am I infringing upon others’ rights to do so? Granted there isn’t a law against gay marriage as there is a traffic law against running red lights, but how different is it? Gay marriage creates an exception to a current, commonly accepted norm. Today, 11 states allow gay marriage. 78% have not written in a new law to allow it. Miss California isn’t speaking anything that the majority of lawmakers in her state--or the majority of lawmakers in the majority of states--disagree with. President Obama even agrees with her. Yet, the beauty queen is an infringer? Really?

Finally, how did Carrie Prejean “infringe on others’ rights” when gay marriage is not a right? Again, 78% of states don’t allow it. It is not a right. Whether you support it or do not, it still isn’t a right. So how can it be infringed upon? Simple: it can’t be. And Time was either just plain moronic or incredibly biased to make such a ludicrous claim. REALLY.

********

UPDATE: A new story just broke in the last 3 hours! A woman claims to have dated Carrie Prejean’s mom! Wow! My nausea meter just exploded on my computer screen!

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The reason I wrote this blog was truly about how this Prejean-thing is being blown out of proportion and how the media is skewing it. However, it seems almost impossible to ignore what happened after writing about it—and two things happened. First, a woman was actually asked a topical question at a beauty pageant. And that is a shocker. The problem is that she was asked a question by a biased person with both an agenda and vendetta. Nevertheless, I say it took moxie to answer the way she did, especially in an industry that has so many people who would be against her. She put herself out there. She stood up for her belief in marriage and her belief in God. It would have been a lot easier for her just to give a “world peace” type of answer, but I commend her for not being a vapid airhead. I think all contestants should be asked real life, intellectual questions. Not that I expect a diatribe on the economics of underdeveloped countries, but let the women be appreciated for their brains as well as their bodies. The fact that Prejean was asked a real question and honestly answered it is enough reason for her to win a crown; she had an actual opinion, was poised and confident enough to state it, and she looks great in a bikini. That should be the trifecta of a modern day patriarchal contest.

However, something else happened: a contestant lied on her application and faced no repercussions. And, despite whether the witch-hunt that caused this information to come out is right or wrong, it’s out. Just like lies have gotten out and taken a myriad of politicians and other celebrities on the ride of their lives. Just think about the number of politicians who have shut up and dropped out of races because people found dirt on them. If you put yourself out there, and someone doesn’t like you, they will find dirt on you. You have to be prepared for that… or have a lot of money to silence people. In the end, the average person really has to practice what he or she preaches. Because Carrie Prejean has been one to speak form a religious perspective, I have to comment on her in that way: she chose to follow God’s example on some things but not others. She thinks gay marriage is wrong because of God’s teaching, but she broke commandment nine and lied. And that hurts her credibility. No one but God is perfect. But Carrie Prejean lied on her application--and several times after that to try to cover it up. Her actions were neither moral nor ethical. Granted, if she had kept her mouth shut like a good, little girl, it may not have come out. But it did. And she should have lost her crown.

Given all that has happened, let’s think about what we taught young girls with all this hoopla. They should still be judged on their beauty. Being pretty—even if you surgically enhance beauty or starve yourself to achieve it—is good. If you speak what is one your mind, it is bad. You could get into a lot of trouble and get a lot of people mad at you. If you are pretty, though, you get away with a lot and things like lying don’t matter. You can shake your butt or implants for an old, rich white guy and you won’t get into any trouble. In fact, he will let you lie to him, break rules, and then commend you for it… so long as you are pretty. That is the moral of the Prejean saga that young women learned. And it is truly unfortunate.

I was a Prejean supporter until the fact that she lied on her application came out. She knowingly lied, and she should have been punished. Is what happened to her fair? Probably not. If she hasn’t answered that incendiary question honestly would this have come out? Probably not. However, other women did not apply for the competition because they had taken semi-nude/nude photos. How is that fair to them? It’s simply not.

I mean, I am sorry that when Prejean appeared on television in her bra and panties she didn’t understand how people could see that as appearing semi-nude. And I am sorry that she was a minor/wasn’t a minor when semi-nude photos were taken of her after she answered that she had never posed for semi-nude photos on her application. (Her rep even said, "It's not a semi-nude pose because she is modeling lingerie." Yeah, Oookay!) And I am sorry that she responded to the first picture by lying, "There are no other photos of me. This was the only one I took..." before multiple other photos surfaced. And I am sorry that the "wind" blew open her vest during a photo shoot and exposed her nipple right when the photographer shot five or six photos... each in a different pose... and each with her hair adjusted differently. But I am really sorry that this young woman had the potential to be a role model, and now she isn’t; she should have stepped-up and stepped-down, taken accountability for her actions, and moved on.

"Swine" Flu... oh, I mean " H1N1" Flu

One more comment on the whole "Swine Flu," which I feel has been blown completely out-of-proportion to the point it should be called "Swine Paranoia." I used to joke that it should be renamed the "Pig Flu." I thought it sounded better. However, after reading about all the pigs that were slaughtered in Egypt, I am no longer laughing.

How stupid are people? I mean really.

In the case of the pigs that were culled in Egypt, one has to look at the motivation for the action. First, the government had been criticized in the past for not handling problems fast enough or thorough enough: case and point the bird flu. It seems like they were just looking to jump--as many people were--to get rid of the problem by getting rid of pigs since it was called "Swine flu." Brilliant. It didn't hurt that the leaders of the nation didn't generate any cash from the pigs, ingest the pigs, or need the pigs for their families' very survival.

Second, one also has to wonder if there were other motivations for the action; for example, perhaps it was also done to take advantage of the impoverished Christians who struggle in the Muslim nation--especially since no cases of swine flu had even been found there at the time of the slaughter. There are mixed feelings on what happened from Muslims, but only one side mentions religion. According to the AP, "Some militants posted online that swine flu was God's revenge against 'infidels.'" Apparently, since the 90% Muslim majority views pigs as "unclean," it didn't seem so bad to do away with them and give an added kick to those pesky 'infidels' in their country.

I do wonder what would have happened if it had been "Chicken Flu" or something that effected the entire population. Would all the chickens have been slaughtered? I am thinking not. At least the Muslim government was nice enough to let the poor farmers sell the meat from the cull... so that the government could justify not compensating the farmers for their loss. How generous, especially given the fact there was no grounds for their action and that they were acting out of fear of criticism and sheer paranoia.

However, on the flip side, the AP also reported that, Abdullah Kamal, a Muslim writer of a pro-government newspaper, criticized the order to slaughter the estimated 300,000 pigs arguing that "Killing (pigs) is not a solution, otherwise, we should kill the people, because the virus spreads through them." Sometimes it seems like only people outside of government have functioning brains.

When you look at what happened to Egypt's 300,000 pigs--and the suffering that has come to the farmers who lost them--there really is one person to blame: the idiot who dubbed this virus "Swine flu." I am serious. Granted, the media spread the fear of this illness faster than a bunny on Viagra reproduces, but the person who thought of the name is truly to blame. I would happily nominate them for the Darwin Award of the Century. I want to know who it was who did it. Seriously. This genius has caused so much suffering by thinking of such a moronic name, and I want to know that there will be repercussions. And, oh yeah, changing its name to "H1N1 Flu" really helps NOW. That's some more genius thinking. I'm sure everyone will start calling it that now...

It was known early on that the "Swine flu" was a mixture of swine, bird, and human flu. And given the fact that it seems nearly impossible that this flu could have been created naturally in the environment, one can also wonder where it really came from. (I am smelling another blog.) Nevertheless, it was also known early that humans didn't this flu from pigs. So, why the name? If it had been called the Mexico Flu, since it originated there, the tourist industry there would have taken forever to rebound. So, who is after the pork industry and why? I mean, with the whole "Swine Flu" fear, who is running out to buy a big ol' ham for Sunday dinner? I am guessing no one, even though you can't get the Swine Flu from ingesting pork. (Case and point the monumental losses the beef industry faced from Mad Cow Disease, which really did come from the aforementioned animal.) Not that I am defending the potbellies in the pork industry or am even concerned about them, especially since they are no more friendly to the pigs than the Egyptians were, but... it makes one wonder, doesn't it?

Maybe the pork industry didn't donate enough to Obama's campaign.


Further Reading:
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jVjq5eEi7w7p4zgIjnSIiBIZ7RkQD97TEKMO0
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090501/ap_on_re_mi_ea/ml_egypt_scapegoating_pigs
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090503/ap_on_re_mi_ea/ml_egypt_swine_flu
http://ydr.inyork.com/ci_12252751

Infectious Guilt

Well, I am sick. Actually, I am getting over it now. I think I was infected by my cousin when I went to visit for a funeral. Usually I am infected by carrier monkies--oops, I mean "children--when I visit. This time, though, my adult cousin assured me she wasn't sick anymore before hugging me. Uh huh. The worst part is that I got S sick, and I feel awful for that. He took care of me the last 11 days. Then, bam. I thought we were in the clear. Apparently not.

Aside from wishing I could do anything to have him not be sick, I am reflecting on surviving this cold. See, a few years back, I had a horrible sickness that lasted over 3 months. I lost my hearing, had to have my eardrum vacuumed, and basically went slowly insane. I had no control over my body or senses. It was very hard on me. Before that episode, I didn’t care about getting sick. It was just something you got through. Since then, though, I have been panicked about it. This cold was the first time I didn’t freak out. I tolerated it. I was patient. And I had someone who loved me caring for me.

S really did take care of me, too. He even researched remedies online and rubbed essential oil in the soles of my feet to help me stop coughing. I didn't expect that. Maybe I didn't think I was worth it. In a way, it was reminiscent of my mom when I was younger. I can't explain it. It was just like I was safe and loved. And the last time I was sick, my situation was far different. Anyway, I have ended up having to take steroids because my lungs got inflamed and I got the dreaded “seal bark” cough of asthma. I am getting through, though. And S is dealing with the barking.

I just hope he gets over this quickly. I can’t stand to see him suffering. I also feel awful because I infected him. Plus, he is so used to being on his own that he doesn’t let me help him much. He doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t want to take help. I, on the other hand, whined and he looked after me. I felt so loved. I wish I could return that for him.

I am also worried because I don’t know if I am a great comforter. My main example of comforting comes from my mom. She always seemed to know just what to do to make me feel better. So I try to remember those things to do. It is just hard knowing how much comforting he wants. I also ask a lot of questions, which can be annoying. “Would you like some tea?” “Can I get you some Chloraseptic?” “Do you need anything?” I sound like a broken record. So, I am giving him his space and hoping he lets me know if he needs anything. I don’t want him to think I don’t care, but I don’t want to be a pest. I tread such a fine line.

And I think I am leaning toward pest.

P.S. To everyone who has seen me in public: I don’t have the swine flu. Everyone who has a cough does not have it. You don’t need to run the other direction. (But I can understand why you do… because I usually do when I see you cough.)

Depression

I have struggled with depression pretty much my whole life. I went the anti-depressant route for a while, and, while it works wonders for some, it wasn't for me. I do remember reading the ad for Cymbalta before I started it: Do you feel down? Do you have muscle aches and pains? Do you cry? Do you breathe? I was like, "Yes! Yes! This is me!" And, yes, I naively thought that all my problems would be solved by a little blue pill. The problem is that those symptoms apply to practically every human being on the planet. Yet, without any discussion, my doctor quickly wrote a prescription for it.

The problem came when I realized that this pill isn't going to magically change my life. So, when I tried to get off of it, and had to actually go on another medication in order to do so, I went through my own personal hell-phase: shocks in my head, moodiness, nausea, headaches. It was pretty bad. Of course, when I told the doctor about the symptoms, she had her nurse tell me that "perhaps you should talk to someone because that doesn't happen." Apparently they were under the impression I was making it all up. I love how doctors can write you any number of prescriptions for drugs but then are oblivious to the after-effects of them. Thankfully I went online and discovered that a LOT of people had the same withdrawal symptoms I did. I can't remember where I found it now, but some angel had posted that L-Glutamine could help with the side effects, including the horrific shocks in my head. It works. Within days, thankfully, I was feeling better. (Of course, when I told my doctor this she denied that there was any correlation between the L-Glutamine and the shocks.)

Anyway, since those days years ago, I did actually go to therapy--which I think should be a requirement for anyone on anti-depressants--and have changed my life in many ways. I actually really changed my life. Almost entirely. I think I was the happiest I had been. I accepted myself, faults and all, and I think that is the key. It is like in accepting yourself, you find the power to change yourself. Weird dichotomy.

However, I am having a hard time again. I feel that I am becoming more and more depressed. I can identify certain reasons why, but it is like I am down in a well sometimes and can't crawl out. I try so hard for S to not show how bad it really is. I'm also incredibly exhausted and am working with a new doctor to try to find out why. There are a lot of things going on. I think the crux of it, though, is that I am back at a point where I don't like myself again. In retrospect, the key to everything was acceptance, and I have lost that. I'm just not sure how to find it again.

I guess it comes down to something my therapist once said, and I will paraphrase: "I can sit and look at someone laying in a bed and tell him or her all the reasons in the world to get up. In the end, though, he or she is the only one who can take the action."

I think I need some action. Perhaps not of the Bruce Willis yippie-kai-yay variety, but I need start somewhere. Maybe I should go rent Driving Miss Daisy or something and start slow.

Yeah...

Just to follow-up... The whole "New Year's Resolutions" thing... it lasted under 24 hours. C'est la vie!

New Year's Resolutions... a little late

Since it is my dad's birthday, I am re-evaluating my life--which I usually do on people's birthdays. I've decided to follow the theory of "You can't love someone else until you love yourself," and I have set out some new goals, or late New Year's Resolutions, to help me start to accomplish this task.

1. Take time for myself--at least 5 minutes every day. Whether it is just enjoying a cup of coffee, taking a mental break, or writing a blog, I need a few minutes to devote to me.

2. I want to make a list of one thing I like about myself each day, and I would like to write a journal entry of something I want to improve upon or something I have noticed about myself.

3. I would like to get involved in writing fiction again.

4. Focus on a regular exercise schedule again. I have been sort of on one, but I have had a foot injury and really need to suck it up and get over being a wimp about it.

5. I need to stop taking everything personally and being overly sensitive. This is a tough one. And #6 goes with it.

6. I need to know that my opinions are worthy, and I need to speak up when I am upset about something rather than kitchen sink it.

7. I need to figure out how the hell to accomplish #5 and #6.

8. I want to look into a volunteer opportunity; I need to give something back to humanity... as Miss America and cheesy as that sounds.

9. I want something S and I can look forward to each month. Something to mark on the calendar.

10. I also want to plan something, at least once a month, with my mom and dad, separately.

11. I want to take the pups for a walk or do something special with them once a week.

12. I want to read, at least 30 minutes a day, from a book, whether it be fiction, self-improvement, or historical.

13. I want to find a hobby, like organizing my photos.

14. I want to go through the junk mail and try to keep the house up more.

15. I would like to keep a book of quotes that I like.

16. I want to face reality, regain some confidence, and like who I am.

So, there they are. If they follow normal resolutions, I should have messed them up in a couple days, a week tops. Hopefully, since they are March resolutions, they will last longer.

I know they sound corny, but, you know, we all need a little corn in our lives.

Wish Lists

You know how Amazon has a Wish List? Don't you wish people did, too. Seriously. You create a Wish List of all the things you want people to know, but you can't tell them. Or you just create a list in general.

For example, "Wish List of My Future." I want kids by 25, a house in Connecticut, the house must have 3 bedrooms. I want a husband how knows how to unicycle and a white dog with black spots named Barney. There. Those are the key things. If your goals do not meet mine, you need not apply.

This list could also spawn other lists. Just think of it: Things I Wish My Boss Knew, Things that Turn Me On, Things I Wish You Would Do for Me, Things I Actually Want for Christmas. (Well, for some people that last one already exists.)

Then there are the negative lists: Why I Do Not Like Your Family, What Not to Do After Sex, Things You Do That Aggravate Me. Oh, the possibilities.

And the best part? There would be an online index of the lists in a little computer that people could just plug into our USB port on our wrist or something. (We can't risk taping such valuable information to our clothes; it could get lost. It could also lead to embarrassment, "Hey, I, uh, found this list on the ground. Is it yours? Do you like playing Mortal Kombat as part of foreplay?" No, that would not be a good thing.

It would have to be a computer. A mini computer with a list of all our lists. No dialogue. No secrets. Just pure, unbridled bluntness. You just plug in, and it's all right there. Who each of us is. All of it. Right there. In our wrist. Or somewhere.

*inhales*

Obamas Give Crappy Gifts

Have some class. Have some decency. You represent the United States of America.



As a Democrat, I read this article and just shook my head. I know that we are having tough financial times in this country and Obama has a lot on his plate--and he has already done a few good things in office--but when the Prime Minister of another country comes to visit, know enough to know that you need to bestow upon him and his family some decent gifts. It's called manners. Even if our nation is struggling, hold your head up high and put on a show; it's not like the government can't afford it. I realize that the Obamas give their daughters like $1-$2 a week as an allowance, while the Obamas treat themselves to huge, Wednesday night gala dinner parties. (I wonder if the girls will be benefiting from a stimulus package?) I also know that the girls either get a birthday party or presents, while at the same time their parents dress them in designer clothes. Paradoxical, but I digress. If you want to raise your children to value the dollar, while it still has some value, fine. But when you represent this nation to the world, show a little class, please. And if you don't know what you are doing, have enough balls to ask someone before you embarrass our country, which is already being looked down upon internationally.

Could this be being blown out of proportion? Probably.
Am I still annoyed? Completely.

Further reading

First Time

I totally went to my first hockey game Friday night. It was awesome! I really loved it. I went with my dad and S. I had never gone to a game (of any kind) before. (Well, once in high school my girlfriend and I bought tickets from a scalper for a U of M hockey game, but I don't remember it.) Anyway, I had a great time. We were in the first row, right up against the glass. The first time a puck hit the glass, we all jumped a foot. The best part was when the players would slam up against the glass right in front of us. At first I didn't know what to do, but then, once I got into it, I really enjoyed it. The weirdest part was that there was no commentary, like on TV. I was totally thrown about that one. The dog from Marley & Me was there, because of a Dog Show in Detroit. And there was the cutest Pee Wee Playoff thing with these tiny kids in all this padding; they could barely move. In the end, we had fun, we ate in the Olympia Club, the Wings won, and I like hockey all the more. I also like that I have a special memory with my dad and S.

(I will write more about this in my journal... and maybe post it here later.)

FYI: We ended up on TV--and probably on the Jumbotron-like thing. *Ugh* My dad and I were clearly on, but S... well, S was behind a pole. My mom taped it and then two people at work made it a point to say that they saw us...

When you care enough...

to send the very best, you send a Hallmark. When you really want to tell your loved ones you care, you get life insurance--or so the ad says. Actually, it is a good idea. And this advertisement really got me. It's probably because S and I are talking about life insurance now that it spoke to me more so than normal, but I just thought I would share it.



I just like it. And I like that he started the conversation.

I love dogs

Seriously. My pups now are great. They make me laugh, they make me cry, they make me tired, they make me "human." If you've loved a dog, I think you will know what I mean. There is a sign I see in catalogs that says, "There's no greater joy in life than a puppy licking your face." I have to agree. One of the happiest moments in my life was when a friend surprised me by having me lay down on her kitchen floor, shut my eyes, and then released about 8 puppies from a room in her house. They were so small and fluffy. They were all jumping on me and licking at my face, ears, and nostrils. And while I could have done without a Puppy Chow and feces scented tongue up my nose, it was a moment I will never forget. It was: joy. And, really, that moment is often remembered as my "happy place." (Yes, I have a "happy place.")

However--and being a total dog person, mind you--I saw the puppy at the cute "Puppy of the Day" link at the bottom of my blog this morning. Don't get me wrong, I would still love it, but...



AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!

I jumped.

I mean, I adopted one of my dogs because someone said he was ugly. Wait, make that two of them. Still, this little one is, uh, to quote a Seinfeld episode, "breath-taking." And it's glowing alien eyes, uh, "breath-taking" as well? Poor puppy. And poor me. I think I am going to be attacked in my dreams tonight by a glowing-eyed rat ball.

Still, if no one else would adopt him, I would.


Maybe.

Words of Love for Valentine's Day

...or as I like to call it VD.

I just think it's ironic and humorous.

We are supposed to celebrate Valentine's Day tomorrow, but S completely surprised me today. I've known for a long time that he really doesn't give flowers, and he hasn't given any to me before, but he brought home 2 dozen stunning pink roses with 2 extra gorgeous red ones--to symbolize us--mixed in with them. I was speechless. And giddy. I love flowers and wanted them more than anything, but I didn't let myself think about them because I didn't think I would get any. He has no idea how happy he made me.

But, I am getting off track.

I've been pondering something as I am sorting through the 7 cards I bought for S for Valentine's: the wording the cards is interesting. I sift through them all in the store, spend a ton of money, and then get home and re-sift in an attempt to find the ones that say what I feel, because, of course, I can't say what I feel on my own. There is a distinct difference in the sentimental cards, though: the Me Card vs. the You Card.

The Me is the card centered on the person giving it, while the You is focused on the person receiving the card. It is pretty easy to distinguish between the two as the Me features lots of "I"s and "Me"s and the You sports, you guessed it, a bunch of "You"s. On some occasions card, shoppers can find a card--the prized card--that is the right blend of the Me and the You. It is a rare find indeed. And when you see it, you buy it, because it is "perfect." You may not know why; it just is. What you don't realize is that it is the Me/You blend.

Here's the problem with cards. It's the Me card. Too much of the Me can strike people funny. I mean, if you are giving a card to someone as a gift of sorts, you don't want the gift to be about you even if it says what you want or feel exactly. For example, as a birthday gift joke, I usually wrap up a couple used dog toys, from the dogs, for my parents on their birthday, just like a child might give a parent his or her favorite toy as a gift. It means, "I love you so much that I am willing to share my favorite thing with you." It is inherently sweet--from a child. Take it to the next level, though. "Honey, I just got you Madden 2009" or "Look, Sweetie, here's that new snow blower!" Yes, a wife or girlfriend may benefit from these things, but are they really focused on her? Let's see how this applies to cards:

Card #1

Loving you
means many things to me...
It means knowing
I have someone to rely on,
confide in, and trust...
it means knowing I have someone
who will share in my laughter,
my thoughts, and even
my disappointments...
But mostly it means,
that I always
have something
to be happy about...
because as long as we're together
the world
looks wonderful to me. --Robin St. John

Card #2

What is it about you?
Is it the warmth in your smile?
The way you can make
hours of conversation
seem like minutes?
Or is it the way
you look at me
that sees right through
to my heart?
Whatever it is,
It is something really wonderful--
because you are--
and it's something
that just feels
so right.
Happy Valentine's Day.


So, figure which is which? I think you did. So I am not giving you the answer. It can be tough, though, because sometimes there is a little of each with an overall skewing one way or the other. You just have to weigh them. As for me, I like both cards; obviously, or I would not have bought them as "potentials." If I got either, I would be happy. See, the Me doesn't bother me. In fact, I am a Me giver. However, I am acutely aware of the You card. It whispers to me, "Don't give him the Me; focus on the You." See, I think S probably likes the You better. It is focused on just him, and I think with his personality he would appreciate that style more.

So, I have searched for the rare diamond in the rough, the blended card, the one that says how he makes me feel and the one that says how wonderful he is. I have found two of them. Neither is perfect, and the first might be a bit too Me-like, but they are getting there. A little bit of Me and a little bit of You. I don't know which one to pick yet. I think the second one. While it is a bit focused and heavy on the Me at first, it has a nice blending and aftertaste of You--not unlike how we all start our relationships. It is a compromise. And a relationship does need to be about compromise.

Maybe I have made up my mind after all.


Card A

I always hoped
it was true--
that there is someone in the world
for each one of us to love.
After we met,
I just knew somehow
that you'd be the one for me.
I saw it in the way
you made me happy
whenever I was with you
and in the way you
could make me smile,
even when I didn't
really feel like smiling.
I saw it in the kindness
of your eyes,
the generosity of your spirit...
in the was we accept
each other's differences
and support
each other's dreams.
Over time,
I have come to see
that you complete me--
that our relationship
has helped me become
a better person.
I know that life
truly blessed me
when I found you,
and I promise
always to cherish
our once-in-a-lifetime love. --Emily Larkin


Card B

I'll always stand by you
as your lover, as your friend
and as your soul mate...
because there's nowhere else
I'd rather be.
Oh, I have lots of selfish reasons--
like how easy it is to be at your side
where life is never too scary,
where the future
is something we make together,
and where I simply adore
showing off to the world that you're mine.
But mostly, I'll stand by you
so you'll know that you're never alone,
that I believe in your dreams
and your choices,
and so that you'll know the strength
and comfort of my unconditional love.
I'll always stand by you
because I love you.
It's as simple as that. --S. Summers

Laund-o-rama

Isn't laundry one of life's most vicious cycles? We wash, we wear, we repeat. It's endless. I actually don't dislike the washing part. Maybe it is because I like water and the sheer thrill of soap turning into little, fluffy bubbles. But drying? Eh, not so much. There's no thrill there. (Granted, there are other ways to get a thrill with laundry, but I digress.) Anyway, I do enjoy the warm, Bounce-scented clothes when they comes out of the dryer. Jumping in them, tossing them on the cat, or playing tug-of-war with the dogs; that is fun. The problem for me, though, is getting the laundry to the dryer. I have a habit of just letting it sit the washer. Sometimes I forget about it for a day or two. Not a good thing--I assure you. Nevertheless, since I am down to my last pair of panties and am too tired to go to the store to buy more, I guess I have to venture into the hamper and throw some things in the washer. To quote that fish from Finding Nemo, "Bubbles!"

Back in the day

I wish I lived in a time where people were still friendly. Don't get me wrong; friendliness does still exist. However, 8 times out of 10, I would venture to say that if a stranger happened to be walking next to us down the street and attempted to start a conversation we would probably think 1 of 5 things: this person is selling something, this person is going to attack me, this person is crazy, this person is annoying, or "What person? I don't see any person. I'm just going to act like I am deaf and keep my head down." Granted, there are those of us, a rare few, that are "talkers." Often they are looked at with disdain by the rest of us, the "semi-talkers," the "placaters," the "non-talkers," the "avoiders," and the "don't-look-at-me-or-I-will-castrate-your-fluffy-kitten-ers." It really is sad and so different from the world where my grandparents and great-grandparents lived--a world where you genuinely wanted to know your neighbor and where you did just strike up conversations with people you didn't know. In fact, it would have been rude to not talk to someone next to you. Now we live in a society where we expect that someone is after something if he or she is just nice for no reason.

A couple days ago I was walking into the store and an old man started talking to me. My first thought was, "Ooookay." I gave a placating smile and subconsciously quickened my step; I justified it because it was cold outside. I consider myself to be a nice person and do talk with people in social situations, but I was surprised how awkward I felt as he just continued talking, making me slow to his pace. He talked about the cold, the parking spot, the holidays--just normal small talk--and I started to wonder just how far away from the store I had actually parked. He also mentioned his wife, lest I think he was trying to make time with me. Very cute. The truth of the matter is that by the time I held the door to the store open for him, I realized he pretty much made my day. It was a truly nice exchange. I got over the initial odd vibe and actually enjoyed our chat. The test will be if I talk to someone the next time I am walking into the store. Do I want to make myself vulnerable? Granted, the person will probably think I am nuts, but sometimes life is about taking that chance. I might go beyond the smile or the "Hi," the "Hey," or the "How are ya?" that you hope the person doesn't answer. Can you imagine just walking by someone , offering a brisk "How are ya?" and having the person stop and say, "Weeeeell, now that you ask. The gout is flairing up, I had to put my dog to sleep yesterday, I lost my credit card, and tomorrow is my birthday. How are you?"

Another situation popped up yesterday. I was walking out of the grocery when a woman who worked there said something along the lines of, "Excuse me. I know I just work here and shouldn't get personal, but you're looking really good." This could have been spurred by the fact I was in gym pants, but it was still a nice gesture. The funny thing is that just that afternoon I complimented a woman at my doctor's office on her nail polish; it was actually a very vibrant, over-the-top red, but I could tell that she was making a show of having her nails done. She beamed when I told her they looked pretty, not unlike I probably smiled when I got my compliment. I am one to take chances and compliment someone. I am not great at taking compliments back, but I am getting better. Many people don't care enough to take that extra step. I like seeing people smile, though. And the chat with the woman at the grocery definitely made me smile.

S has told me that I can be friendly to the point of being annoying. He said it didn't bother him, but that he wondered if it rubbed people the wrong way. You know, I am sure it does sometimes. Other times, though, people say I am refreshing. I would rather know that I might have made someone smile who would not have done so had I not taken a little extra step. I don't give false compliments, and I am not phony. I don't want to be sickly sweet, and I don't think I am, but I also don't want to temper myself. I would rather live in a by-gone era where people actually cared about each other. And I would actually like to give my neighbors cookies at Christmas, and maybe next year I will do just that. I think this world is what we make it. I'm not going to sing Kum-bi-ya 'round a campfire or anything, but I do think we get what we give. And, while I have been called a martyr, I know I am no saint; none of us are. However, I want to change the part of me that had that moment of annoyance and maybe even "Oh great!" dread when the old man spoke to me. It is in reaching out to one another that we are reminded how much we all are alike. William Allen White once said, "If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, or base temptations, of heartaches and remorse as his own... how much kinder, how much gentler he would be."

I think he is on to something.

What was she thinking?

So I am cutting through Macy's to get to Starbucks, and I see this little girl just staring at a picture on the lower half of the Dior make-up counter, perfectly placed at her eye-level. She was completely holding up traffic and her mother, oblivious on a cell phone, didn't even see her. I was curious as to what was holding her attention so strongly. I walk passed her and see this:



Okay, so it wasn't exactly THIS ad but it was close. It was the same shoot for the ad, but Charlize Theron was showing more boob. So here is this little one, about 6 or 7 years old, mesmerized by Charlize grabbing her dress and slathering herself in J'adore. (This is the same ad that spawned the commercial where she rips off all her clothes because nothing can satisfy her--not even diamonds--only J'Adore; you can YouTube it.) I almost felt sad. And so another little nubbin--this one with blonde hair in a little pink parka with a pink striped scarf and pink mittens--falls unknowingly into the crevasse... I know I am putting too many adult feelings on this one, but I just had this flash of how she is going to grow up--how she will see the world and how the world will see her. And, really, what she is going to have to do--and chose to sacrifice--to fit into it.

Anyway, as I ascended on the escalator to what should have been my warm Cinnamon Dolce respite, I started to feel my Women's Studies classes percolating inside me again. I remembered the statistic about 80% of 3rd grade girls already have been on a diet or currently being on one. I thought about all the research on socialization and how girls purposely start to "dumb down" in school to fit in. Granted, we have come a long way, but the rate at which it happens is still extreme. I also found myself thinking about the email wrote to my Goddaughter last night in response to her email about her mom being a "Nazi." She is growing up, becoming a woman, and definitely giving me the creeps as she does it in terms of the sex thing. Regardless, I worry about her conforming. She is so strong-willed, yet I see her cracking and wanting to be "popular." For example, I was visiting her this summer and took her to the mall. She was in a Pac Sun phase because she said that was where all the "rebels" shopped. Being a smartass, I countered with, "Well, if all the rebels shop there it doesn't sound too rebellious." She gave me "the look"--which I think she inherited from me. Point is... she is still her own person and I don't want her to forget that for her friends, for a guy, for anything--because I did and it took me a long time to remember who I was again. I think all teenagers go through that phase, but the number of girls who make it out is slim--especially when we live in a world of Acai berry diets, anal bleach, wrinkle creams, and airbrushed perfection on every magazine and TV screen. All sorts of things to make us not like who we are.

One good thing about the Macy's experience happened on my way down the escalator. The little girl was still there with her mouth open, but a high school girl in her black and orange varsity jacket also walked by--wearing these awful looking cotton polka dotted pants and snow boots. And, you know, I loved her for it. It is a sign that not all women get sucked into the vortex. Some swallow the red pill and reject the blue. I hope that one day the little pink parka girl ends up at the mall in polka dot pants. She may not like the Matrix, but it is better to be aware than to live in la la land.

ER

What a difference a day makes. Well, to finish on the dogs' party tale, I'll offer the Reader's Digest Version:

1) Dogs are wrestling and plow into S's leg at work, hurting him.
2) S reminds me that he is a cat-person and can't stand my dogs; it hurts to hear, but I know it is true.
3) Bake dog cake; it turns out well, though the frosting melted a bit because I frosted it while warm.
4) S goes to the dog party and was great. My mom totally went overboard on the "Scooby Doo" theme. We all opened toys, and S even posed in a party hat for pictures and sang "Happy Birthday." (My dad also posed and sang in his I-can't-believe-she-got-me-to-do-this voice and demeanor.)
5) Dogs are excited and restless while we all watch Bullitt and attempt to ruin movie, but it is still enjoyed. S was very cute all vegged out in the recliner.
6) Fight the snows to get home.
7) S has the worst migraine I think he has had yet. We're up most of the night, and he really was suffering on many levels. He gets pretty agitated and there isn't much I can do to comfort him, but I try my best.
8) I try not to wake him in the morning, but end up having an acid problem with my stomach and have to go to the ER.

Anyway, I'm fine and he is, too. I'm still sore, but surviving. As I said, though, what a difference a day makes. S was supposed to take yesterday off because he was sick, but then I got sick. I had my dad take me to the ER because I didn't want S to be there when he wasn't feeling great. (I had a wonderful doctor, too. She was thorough and fast, and gave me my privacy--like saying she'd keep the exam "G-Rated" since my dad was there, though he walked out for me.) I have to say that I really liked that my dad was there with me at the hospital. His presence can really comfort me. It was like a "moment" for us. He is great. He got me laughing a little and just listened as I rambled in my pain-killer induced state. He even called my girlfriend to cancel lunch for me. I held his hand there and back in the car. I love him a lot and don't want to imagine a day when he, or my mom or S, aren't there.

I do feel badly that S was supposed to take the day off at work because he wasn't feeling well and then I had to be off. I feel like I let him down, even though he said I didn't. I just felt so guilty that I had a crisis when he did. I felt like it seemed like I was an attention-sucker or something. He ended up going in to the office for an hour, and I wished so much that I hadn't gotten sick.

So that's the scoop. This blog is really nothing but a journal entry of my yesterday.

But... as S says, "It is what it is."

Happy Birthday to... my dogs

Yes, as if I'm not crazy enough, I do celebrate my dogs' birthdays. Today, "the twins" are 3 years old. (I joked earlier that since they are 21 in dog years that they should get an alcoholic drink; though, I think the fact that I am celebrating dog birthdays sounds like I have had an alcoholic drink too many, but... I digress.)

Tonight S and I are going to have a fun-filled "Scooby Doo" themed party with the pups at my parent's house. As I purchased the plates and napkins, I could tell that he was pondering at what age he would need to commit me. He did go with me to the grocery, the drug store, Whole Foods (as the grocery didn't have carob chips for their canine cake), and--ultimately--the pet store for treats, chewies, and squeakies which will be wrapped for the dogs to shred open. S did put his foot down when I couldn't find party hats. He said to have my mom grab those when she was out somewhere. I half-pleaded with him to go to another store and he adamantly refused. This made me laugh, on the inside, of course.

He said I was insane, which I couldn't argue, but I made the point that it is done not so much for the dogs as the memories we will have from it. Seeing him and my dad in party hats for the dog's birthday... talk about a memory! If I can actually get a picture of the dogs looking at the camera tonight, I will post it. Though, trying to get them both to look at the camera at the same time is like trying to nail jello to tree. We'll see.

For those other Dog Moms, Dads, and Grandparents, I will post the recipe for tonight's canine confection below.

I wonder if S is actually going to sing "Happy Birthday"... *snicker*

~~~~~~~~

Canine Carob Cake Supreme

1 1/2 c. Flour
3/4 c. Milk
1/4 c. Margarine, softened
4 Egg Yolks
2 t. Vanilla
1/2 t. Salt
2 oz. Carob, melted (*Do NOT use chocolate; it is toxic to dogs*)
1/4 c. Carob Chips

Block of Cream Cheese, softened
Mini-Colored Dog Bones, Chopped Jerky Treats, or Carob Chips for garnish

Heat oven to 375-degrees. Grease and flour a loaf pan, 9x5x3. Beat all ingredients in a bowl, except the Carob chips. Once combined, fold in carob chips. Pour into pan. Bake 40-45 minutes until the top slightly cracks. Invert cake onto wire rack to cool. While it is cooling, whip cream cheese. Once the cake is completely cool, frost with cream cheese and then decorate. Enjoy! (Well, if you are the dog.)

11:48 p.m.

We haven't talked about it again. I think we are both avoiding "it." I've had this weird mixture of wanting to run to and away from him at the same time tonight. I have a feeling this issue is going to become one of those unspoken mini-walls between us. I didn't want to have walls with him; I guess that is idealistic, though. We do have other walls, too. I feel like my dad. After an argument, we would just wait 10 minutes and then it was like it never happened with him. I sort of sense that vibe: the vibe of avoidance.

Oh, well. To quote Scarlett O'Hara, "I'll think of that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day."

I probably didn't quote that right.

Grrrrr!!!

I have this habit of writing down sentences of things I want to think about or write about later. Usually these life-altering thoughts come about right before bed or after I have been asleep a while. I make the effort to get up and write them down, but, by the light of day, they are undecipherable. I have done that about 37 times already with this blog. I have 4 lousy posts and 37 fantastic ideas. I feel like all I am is chicken-scratch on a slip of paper.

One thing I did not want to write about is relationship things. Yack! Yet, post #2 ends up being about just that topic. And, try as I might, I can't help but write about them today. So, I am going to do just that. I'm upset, and I feel like I need to get it out. So...

(inhales)

I feel like the rug has been yanked out from beneath me. I feel like I am a flounder gasping for breath on the riverbank. (Do Flounder live in lakes, rivers? I don't know.) The point is that today I was told that if I want children I need to seriously think about staying with him (or some such verbage) because he 90% doesn't. It just came out of the air. So nonchalant. And I sit there looking at him like, "Huh?" I felt like I was kicked. He could so easily be done with me if I want a baby?

The thing is that neither of us were ever certain about wanting a baby. I am partially paranoid about the thought of not being in control of my body. Additionally, despite all people tell me about how great I am with kids, I don't know if I could deal with one 24/7. I will also refer to a child as "it." For example, when my cousins hoist an infant at me, I repsond with, "No, no, no! I don't know how to hold it!" (Note: Mothers are not complimented when you call their "bundles of joy" It.) Plus, I just have that underlying feeling--that so many of us have before children--that I am going to just screw it up anyway. I do want to see my parents happy, though. I think they would be happier with real babies as opposed to granddogs. I even saw a Seinfeld episode recently where a character said if she doesn't have a baby by the time she is 40 she's going to have to killer her mother because not having a baby would kill her (the mother). Hard to paraphrase, but I hope the point gets across. I always wanted a family by the time I was 26, like my mom, because she was always young enough to be cool when I was in school. And I loused that timeframe up; granted, I could have made that timeframe and not had S, but that is something I would not have wanted; thank heaven for unanswered prayers in that respect. Now that I don't have that life, though, I don't know if I want it anymore. Am I too old now? I mean, hollywood stars have babies at 60, but to normal people? Then again, maybe this "I-don't-know-if-I-want-a-baby" thing is what women say to lull ourselves into thinking we don't want babies because it is getting too late. All I do know is that the biological clock doth ticketh, especially with my family history of cancer and the times the doctors do and do not want me to possibly conceive.

The point is... I wanted the option. I don't want to not have joy in my days when I am older. I don't not want to see future generations. I do want a human to spoil. Granted, my dogs and the step-cat count for now, but I might want something that can actually speak eventually. (Flash forward to when "It" is a teenager and I just want "It" to shut-up.) I just don't know!

When we were first getting to know each other, he was straight-forward about kids not being high on his list right now; I was of the same opinion, though I told him I thought I would still probably want one. He said that we could have one before it was too late for me, but he didn't want one right away. "A few years down the road," he said, and I agreed. He said he wanted us to enjoy life and really get to know each other for a while. I wholeheartedly agreed. I added that I may never want one; he said that was fine. I confided that I may not be able to have children; he said it was okay. We joked about dropping a baby off at my parents house when it needed changing or we wanted to go somewhere. In conversation, we even agreed on baby names for girls. In fact, we both said we liked Isabella at the same time as the first name. I thought it was a sign of sorts. Then, one day, he said something along the lines of I should rule out children because "maybe one day we will want to create a miracle." Whereby "miracle" = "life". I thought it was the sweetest thing I ever heard. I was taken aback and even had a religious moment. It made me fall in love with him more. I even told my mom he said it--and how he said it. I was head-over-heels.

Today, he told me he never said that.

I just want to crawl in a bed and hide. I don't even know if I want children, but I know I don't want that option off the table. Ironically, we've been around people today who are talking about their kids. I just feel like I am getting kicked again when I hear it. It was just so unexpected. Then we exchanged minor barbs with each other, mine was exceptionally minor in my opinion (though in your own opinion when is it not minor.) I just don't know what happened. I mean, I remember waking up this morning. I remember that. I remember him sitting on the couch and looking at his will and documents for our life together. Then I remember him saying pulling breaking up out of his ass. I am clueless. I can tell ya, though, this really hurts the trust factor and trying to let my guard all the way down.

I'm shocked and am just left feeling like I suddenly have to make a choice a monumental, unexpected choice at 1:07 p.m. on January whatever-it-is, 2009. I know I don't want him to waste his time with me, nor do I want to waste my time loving and trusting someone, if this is a roadblock and he isn't going to be around. Yet, I also know we love each other, and I don't believe either of us wants to be without the other. Reality must set in at some point, though.

The weirdest thing, and maybe the most hurtful thing, is that sometimes I get "feelings." When he told me this earlier this morning, I had a flash in my mind. I saw myself bending down to smile and shake hands with his adorable son, who was like 3 or 4 years old. He was smiling with his arm around his friendly, brunette wife's waist, hugging her. I was alone, no children, thinking that we broke up because I wanted a child and now he, who didn't want a child, has one. It was just a dumb moment, but it felt very real. Maybe he loved her. Maybe she tricked him; which I would never fathom doing to someone. I don't know. I just felt real.

And I felt alone.

Oops, I did it again

That is all.

I had a dream last night

While I am not trying to quote the Butthole Surfers, I did, in fact, have a dream last night. I had a dream that I was back in a twisted version my not-so-distant old life. In the dream, I missed calling S because of X and something that was happening... I don't know what. Then S was trying to reach me the next day, and I couldn't answer my cell. I wanted to text him, but I couldn't because of X. I knew S would be worried, because he really does get worried about me in real life, and I was frantic to reach him; it was like I "needed" to... and I couldn't. I woke up with a gnawing sense of panic.

The dream made me realize that I truly am at a point where I can't imagine my life without S. I've known this for a while, but I didn't really feel the all-encompassing "know it" until last night. Every once in a while I try to convince myself that he would be better (healthier, less stressed) without me even though he says he is happier with me. I just know I can be difficult to deal with, depressed, and a litany of other annoying traits. So I sometimes get in these masochistic moods where I tell myself that he will leave eventually and that I need to remember that fact.

I guess that fear is actually very common for people who are divorced or who were cheated on. I watched the overly-womany-to-the-point-of-being-slightly-nauseating "The Women" and Candice Bergen's character describes the post-cheating feeling perfectly, even years later:

"It feels like someone kicked you in the stomach, feels like your heart stopped beating, feels like that dream you know the one when you are falling and you want so desperately to wake up before you hit the ground but its all out of your control, you cant trust anything anymore, no one is who they say they are, your life is changed forever, and the only thing to come out of the whole ugly experience is no one will be able to break your heart like that again."

I know S could break my heart... I know he could break it because I have given it to him. I think that adds a fear to me that I never felt before--kind of like when I first realized that trust could be broken. Now I am scared it will be. I feel things for S that I never felt before... things that I don't want to feel with anyone else. I've made myself more vulnerable to him than I ever have to anyone else. I don't know if he realizes that... I think he does, but I don't know if he comprehends it. I think, though, that we both are going to new trust levels with each other, going farther than we each have let ourselves go before. I don't know if he knows what it feels like to try to trust someone again, especially after what I went through--and because of that I still hold back. I also think it is because I have opened up so much that sometimes I feel the need to backpedal, so I won't get kicked down again.

Regardless, I know after the dream I know how much I need him and want to share my life with him. I knew it before, and I've told him before, but there was something that happened last night. Suddenly the thought of not having him feels so much more real, and so much more raw. While I appreciate the magnitude of the dream, and I believe it satisfied a need or question on some unconscious level, I think tonight I need to ease out and go back to dreaming of fluffy pink bunnies dancing the Macarena.

A la tuhuelpa legria Macarena
Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena
A la tuhuelpa legria Macarena
Eeeeeeh Macarena
A-Hai!