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| Subject: | Can't sleep... |
| Time: | 4:58 am. |
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It's 5am on Thursday morning, and I've been up all night. I was also up all night last Friday and Sunday. I don't know what's going on, but I've been having so much difficulty falling asleep. I watched the movie, Simon Birch on some random channel. It's loosely based on one of my favorite books by John Irving called A Prayer for Owen Meany. The movie isn't any near as good as the book, but it's partially redeemed because they cast David Strathairn. He plays the reverend of a church.
I don't know about you, but I find David Strathairn incredibly attractive. I have since I saw the movie Sneakers (my favorite movie of all time). Then I saw him in Losing Isiah, LA Confidential, and then in Good night and good luck. Delicious! Something about his character in Simon Birch really did it for me though. Actually, I know what that something is - he's wearing priest gear. Nothing gets me more than an attractive priest. My philosophy professor was a Jesuit priest and a complete genius - he was the first priest I had an eye on. Boston College has TONS of young Jesuit priests teaching courses...and they were all yummy! Many of them weren't particularly attractive, but the clothes.........I wonder if there's a fetish for this somewhere. I should google this.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, September 26th, 2006
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| Subject: | Happy cows |
| Time: | 6:33 am. |
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I'm announcing this to the world so that you may hold me accountable for my actions: I'm going to give up most meat and meat products again. However, I need to caveat this because I'll be called a liar when you catch me eating salmon or yogurt. Better to be realistic, though, isn't it?
I spent a few years in the past off of meat, but fell off the wagon most of the time. Although Korean cuisine is rich in vegetables, most of their soups and stews are meat-based. Even if there isn't any meat pieces in the soup, many times the broth itself is made of beef bones. I eat a lot of Korean food, so this has made it tough. Further, I can't resist yogurt. I'm sorry, but I just can't.
The thing is, I'd hate to hear it from one of those "all-or-nothing" types who say, "Well, you're not a vegetarian 'cause you eat yogurt, so fuck you." Quite frankly, I'm really tired of the militant vegan types who ridicule those who eat certain meats, dairy, or eggs. It's *something*, after all. And if anything, it's a start. A lot of people I know gradually became vegans over time. First they gave up red meat, then chicken, then pork...you get the idea. See, the problem is, once you label yourself a vegetarian, if you don't adhere to the strict guidelines of what that word means to people, you're a hypocrite. This is why I hate calling myself anything. There's always someone out there ready to jump down my throat. It's just SO much easier to say, "I'm a vegetarian" than it is to say, "Well, I'm not a vegetarian, but I have omitted meat from my diet. I still occasionally eat yogurt but try to avoid dairy products as well. I also only eat farm-raised fish." I don't want to say that 50x a day, and no one wants to hear it.
SOOOO, let me explain my vegetarian plan. Actually, maybe I should call myself an occasional meat-eater. Does that make me less of a hypocrite?
1. I'm going to give up all LAND meat, but will eat eggs from either local farms whose premises I inspect or cage-free eggs from a supermarket (if I'm tight on time to drive 3 hours to go get eggs from a farm). I got some beautiful eggs from a farm in Griswold, CT. The chickens are strictly kept for eggs and will live their lives out happily laying them.
2. If products are baked or cooked with eggs in them, I will eat them.
3. If meat is served to me at a guest's house, I will eat it. I think it's worse to waste food.
4. I will eat organic yogurt, but try to drink soy milk over regular milk. I'm not giving up parmesan cheese or mozerella, but hate most cheeses anyhow. I know that dairy supports the veal industry, and maybe this is something that I'll be able to give up eventually, but not right now.
5. I am NOT giving up fish, but will give up wild fish. I know, I know, farm raised fish are kept in crowded areas...but man, I just love fish. What I will do, however, is try to keep my fish intake to a minimum...maybe, once or twice a month.
6. I am keeping my dogs on their current diet. I wouldn't impose my values on anyone, even my dogs. They're happy with what they eat, and although dogs are omnivorous, it's a well-known fact that they're meat eaters well-suited for protein. It's already a challenge trying to find the best foods for my dogs, given that dog food isn't regulated quite the same as human grade food. I don't want to sacrifice quality anymore than I have to.
So, that's my plan. I guess this all started ever since I've been on my dog rescue idea. I love dogs so much and see them as equals to us, and felt like a real shithead for not extending all animals that same respect. Regardless of any animal's "intellectual capacity", base emotions are within all animals. All animals experience pleasure and pain - they must if they are to learn what behaviors to continue and which are a risk to their survival. I'm a person who wants to hug living things, not eat them. We're just so removed from the actual slaughter of an animal, that it doesn't seem so bad.
Happy cows. Happy me.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, August 20th, 2006
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| Subject: | MC with my dog's shit - posted on Craigslist on 8/19 |
| Time: | 11:02 am. |
| Mood: |  cheerful. |
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I know that I could just forget about this incident and no one would be the wiser. I just...feel too guilty. The thing is, if you see my dog on the street now, you will know what she did. Here goes. I have a sixteen week old puppy who is now housebroken, but obviously, still has to go to the bathroom pretty often since her little puppy organs aren't large enough to hold anything for any extended period of time.
Yesterday evening, I took her on the T to the Arlington T stop to walk her through the Public Garden and the Boston Common. I've been so proud of her lately, as she knows now to always go outside on the grass. Unfortunately when we got off of the T, she really had to go. Her holding it for the half hour on the T did her in. We got off at the stop, and she made it up the stairs outside. She began sniffing around looking for a grassy spot to drop her bomb. There was no grass...and there was no way in hell she was going to be able to hold it if we had to wait to cross Boylston to get to the Garden. Alas, she squatted. Tail up, rear legs trembling...she let it out while looking up at me with a horrible look of guilt and shame. I think I forgot to mention that puppies are prone to diarrhea...yeah, you know where this is going. To top it off, she's going to be a relatively large dog, and thus, is a large puppy.
Large puppy + large appetite = copious amounts of doggy doo-doo.
So out it came and it just kept coming. This was at about, oh, 6:00pm while everyone is leaving work and walking around. It seemed the entire city was at the same corner tonight, giving me disgusted looks while I waited for my dog to finish up.
I try to be a considerate dog owner - I really really really do. After all, I want individuals, businesses, and parks to be more dog friendly. I understand that poorly trained animals and crap all over the place makes us look very bad. I've also stepped in my own share of other people's dog shit in expensive heels. NOT fun. I placed my hand inside a baggy to use as a glove in an attempt to pick up her poop. The thing is, you can't "pick up" liquid, especially when you have tiny 8-year-old-esque girl hands. I did the best I could...squatting over the sidewalk while everyone watched me smear crap around like fingerpaint. Yeah, everyone was laughing but that's okay. I know that being a pet owner is embarassing at times. I picked up as much as I possibly could (and also got some of it on my hands) but there was still some left on the sidewalk.
I'm sorry guys. I'm so so so sorry. My dog's bowel movements are unpredictable, and why she has solid poop one day and wet poop another is a mystery. If any of you stepped in it, I'm just so sorry. If you just look at how adorable and sweet she is, I think you just might be able to forgive me. If not, please just know that I feel awful and that I wasn't neglecting my obligations as a pet-owner. Accidents just happen sometimes, and puppies just can't wear diapers.
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Comments: Read 3 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Rehabilitating aggressive dogs... |
| Time: | 3:06 pm. |
| Mood: |  angry. |
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I watched an HBO documentary two nights ago called, "Shelter Dogs". The documentary was about a shelter owner in NY who believed that euthanasia is a more humane route. She argued that no-kill shelters are becoming a modern trend, but despite how lovely the concept, most dogs in no-kill shelters are simply put in tiny fenced cages and left there to live out their lives. I can truly appreciate the point that she is trying to make. I believe that there is a quality-of-life concern that needs to be addressed. I also agree that no-kill shelters that simply neglect unadoptable dogs aren't humane at all.
My concern after watching this documentary, however, was how quickly this particular shelter owner would be willing to put a dog down. I understand that funding is a major issue, and that a dog that may be difficult to adopt is occupying space that another, more adoptable candidate, could really use. I was extremely conflicted by the end of the documentary, asking myself where dogs are truly better off. One dog was euthanized for a history of biting. A temperament test (which I find highly suspect) was given to this animal to test his resource-guarding. A bowl of food was given to him, and a fake hand was used in an attempt to pull the food away from the dog. If the dog showed signs of aggression, it was to be put to sleep. The first attempt with the fake hand led the dog to exhibit some signs of protective aggression - his lip curled up and he let out a slightly audible growl. The owner of this shelter continuously shook and moved this fake hand around his food bowl, inevitably leading to the dog biting the fake hand. Do I disagree that this dog has serious protective aggression issues? No. I do, however, completely disagree in the methodology used to temperament test this particular animal. If your home is robbed everyday for a year, wouldn't you be a bit wary of strangers entering your home? Now, what if a stranger came in and tried to touch one of your belongings, and when you said, "Put it down!" He just kept fondling your treasured possession and tried to take it away. I would say that it would lead many people to attack in much the same way that the dog did. If the owner of the shelter tried to exchange the dog's food for something equally or more appealing, I believe that the dog may not have exhibited such aggressive signs. This exchange system gives the dog a sense of trust. Over time, perhaps the dog wouldn't have been such a resource-guarding animal.
It is my belief that almost all dogs, with patience and proper training, can be rehabilitated. Operant conditioning, desensitization, and extinction prove to be extremely effective in treating both people and animals. Further, it is often a person's ignorance that can lead many dogs to bite. Children, for example, are often victims of serious dog bites. The owners of the dogs are left puzzled, usually saying, "My dog has never bitten anyone or showed signs of aggression before!" The reason for this is because we, as primates, behave differently than canines. Unless properly educated, we misinterpret warning signs from our animal counterparts, gradually pushing a dog into a corner where it feels as though the only option left is to attack. I can understand the school of thought that says that once a dog is aggressive, it becomes a threat to society and puts the safety of people at risk. Perhaps in extreme cases, some dogs are better left in safe places, such as shelters. This is where my issue with shelters come in. Euthanasia seems premature, but keeping dogs in a cage for the rest of their lives is inhumane. So how about this...how about a no-kill shelter where we work to rehabilitate the dog within the predictable shelter environment? Instead of a cage, a dog can have his/her own room to run and he/she can be kept away from the other animals that make the dog anxious or aggressive. Even if the dog is too much of a risk to adopt out to a home, I believe that a dog can lead a happy life within a shelter environment provided that the conditions are right. So many shelters are simply cages - no sunlight, no room to run, limited human contact, etc. Well, of course an aggressive dog will become more aggressive while fearful dogs riddled with anxiety seem to deteriorate. What help is that?
I'm not shitting on other people's attempt to help animals. I am really glad that there are people out there who care enough to work at low-paying shelters and non-profit organizations. I don't know which theory is right, and I'd be foolish to dismiss other theories because of my own convictions. That's just ignorant. I guess that the root of my anger comes from the fact that there are animals out there in this predicament in the first place. Through training, or lack thereof, we condition these dogs to behave a certain way. Then, they're put down for behaving the way we trained them to. To me, they're truly victims just as children often are - they have no agency and simply learn what we teach them...and then they're labeled as bad dogs or bad kids. They have no voices to cry out for help. They're simply dependent on the people and the environment in which they're raised. I'm so angry.
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Thursday, June 29th, 2006
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| Subject: | MSPCA walk for animals |
| Time: | 12:03 am. |
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Aaron and I will be doing a walk for animals fundraising gig in September for the MSPCA. Noodles, the Samoyed puppy along with Maximus will be joining us for the walk. For those of you who don't know, the MSPCA is a non-profit organization that has an animal hospital and animal shelter. I've taken both Max and Hera to the ER at the MSPCA-Angell Memorial Medical Center, and they both received excellent care. Lower cost vaccinations as well as lower cost spay/neuters are really great for lower-income housing. It means that both dogs and cats can get better care, that not as many animals will be euthanised simply because someone couldn't afford a simple medical procedure, and that there will be less homeless animals out there since people can afford spays/neuters. If any of you have seen a feral cat colony, you know what I'm talking about. It's so tragic.
It's a pretty simple task...I just walk alone or with my pups and have people sponsor me. If any of you are interested in sponsoring me, I'd appreciate all of the help I can get. I've been saying to my friends to skip a six pack for a day and just donate the cost of a six-pack. Ten bucks is a lot of dog food.
To sponsor me, please go to http://www.walkforanimals.com/helpersforyelpers
I'll be your best friend!
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, November 13th, 2005
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| Subject: | Memory? |
| Time: | 12:20 am. |
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If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want, either good or bad.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you..
(I stole this from my friend's blog, but it was pretty cool.)
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Comments: Read 12 or Add Your Own.
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Sunday, October 23rd, 2005
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| Subject: | The Golden Girls meet Dr. Drew.... |
| Time: | 8:26 pm. |
| Mood: |  nauseated. |
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The last thing I need is Bea Arthur giving me fellatio advice. This is the most disgusting thing I think I've ever seen. I love how she mimicks the hand and head motion...
Link repaired.
"Drool great quantities of saliva!"
Yummy.
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Friday, August 19th, 2005
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| Subject: | Missed Connections at Starbucks |
| Time: | 10:35 pm. |
| Mood: |  bouncy. |
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I didn't sleep at all last night. For whatever reason, it was just one of those nights where I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep. I went on a book buying binge (like the illiteration?) a few weeks ago and have been slowly going through each, but that wasn't helping me fall asleep. As a footnote, I strongly recommend "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle". So, I stayed up. I packed some more of my belongings, knit a little, wrote a little, and ate a lot...as usual. So around 7:00AM, I took my laptop and went over to Starbucks in Watertown. That one doesn't seem to get as crowded as the ones in Brookline do, so it's worth the extra drive. I had a venti latte and worked a bit on a huge project that's due shortly for work. I came home briefly to grab my phone to call my boss at work, and went back and had yet another venti latte. I sat adjacent to a window, and saw a man sitting at a table outside. He was drinking a coffee, had cigarettes out, and had some sort of cookie or pastry in a starbucks bag. This little sparrow flew over, landed on the table, and tried to steal pieces of the cookie. It was the cutest thing I think I've ever seen. I laughed, and noticed him smile at the bird. He reached in, grabbed a piece of his cookie, and placed it on the edge of the table and I watched as the bird came flying back. Then, my cellphone rang. It was Zhanna, my friend from home. I was tapped on coffee, and went outside to smoke a cigarette and chat with her for a bit. I sat in front of the bird man and started talking to my friend about my dog rescue idea, work, the time when she abused a cat, and I believe I called her boyfriend a "cocksucker". Periodically during my conversation, I turned around to watch the sparrows land on his table...and smiled. It really was a sweet sight. The gentleman feeding the sparrows was older...but in a George Clooney sort of way. His slight wrinkles added charm and his salt/pepper hair was quite attractive. I thought to myself, "Wow, he's cute." I got off the phone, went inside, and started working again. He took off...which was sorta sad, 'cause I really wanted him to say hello or something. But, I never get hit on, so it's nothing new. :)
I came home, took a nap, and woke up to check my e-mail and look for some household stuff on Craigslist in preparation for my move. I browsed the "Missed Connections" section for kicks, as I usually do, and envied all of the beautiful women that guys obsess over just from seeing them pass by on the street. I know I'm not one of *them*, and have accepted that. Guess what? There was a MC for me from him (at least, I think it was him). It was entitled, Dog rescue, Dunhills, and cookie stealing sparrows. The body of the message was, "Thanks for making my day with your smile. Iced coffee is on me next time." How cute!
I wonder...what are the odds that the intended recipient of a MC actually reads those things? I wonder if he knew I read CL. I am, after all, a huge dork/geek...so one can probably safely assume..haha. For some strange reason, it really put me in a good mood. Is it sad that affirmation that I'm cute from a stranger made me feel good? Or, does that just make me a girl? Or...does that just make me mildly insecure?
I'm starving. Time to eat.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Strange days |
| Time: | 9:28 pm. |
| Mood: |  thankful. | | Music: | Mozart's Requiem - Lacrymosa. |
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As some of you may know, I post a majority of my entries as "friends only", meaning that specific people on my friends list can read them. Only occasionally do a post publicly which has been leading to people I know personally that are not on my "friends" list to ask me why my posts are so boring and devoid of any real substance. So, I'm posting this one publicly since it's a little more meaty than, "I love popcorn!" and "I dream of Nazis!", but still not personal enough that an anonymous response saying something hateful about it will ruin my day.
It has been a strange week for me. No, I take that back - it has been a very strange and odd month. All of these very tragic and very beautiful things have been happening simultaneously. I've been thinking about all of the things that have occurred and every so often, I feel overwhelmed. A few very important people from my life are no longer a part of it: my grandmother passed away at the beginning of this month and my two closest friends are currently not speaking with me. This has been somewhat difficult for me. I hate that I can no longer be there for the two people I care most about, and also hate that I can't call them anymore to tell them about the good or the bad. I'm heartbroken about this...and want to bitch to someone except I can't bitch to the two people who I would normally call about such matters since they're the ones I want to cry about. In addition, I'm moving at the end of this month from an apartment that I don't particularly want to leave. Due to a previous roommate situation who fled and didn't pay rent, my landlords have decided not to renew my lease even though I was a stellar tenant. Moving is difficult for anyone; in fact, they say it's one of the most stressful times in people's lives. In my case, I've moved about 20 times in four years or so. Packing, loading, unloading, and unpacking has lost its novelty. I also really loved this apartment. When I was apartment searching, all of the ones that I liked didn't take dogs. The ones that did were not ones that I particularly liked. Eventually, I acquiesced and settled on a place that would accept my dogs even though it wasn't where I wanted to live.
Ah, but of course, life has its way of balancing out the good and the bad (I'll spare you from my normal Buddhist rants about suffering and samsara). This month has also been a time of new and lovely things. I'm slightly disgruntled about the move, especially since I have to do it alone (the two friends that were going to help me aren't friends anymore), however, I'll be saving quite a bit of money moving to this new apartment, which means I can tuck away more money for my future dog rescue idea. Maybe moving came at the best time then...or maybe I'm just reaching at straws to make myself feel better. :)
My father, for the first time ever, sent me flowers. Although this may not seem like a big thing, if we keep things in perspective, this is the man who missed out on all of the crucial parts of my life and couldn't tell you my hobbies, interests, or age. It took me several years to come to terms with his absence, but in the end I realized that I couldn't impose my values on him. My options were to either be bitter about the past or to accept that I couldn't change him and could only change myself. This sounds so cliche, but it's true. The more important thing was that I wanted a father who was in my life a little than not in my life at all. In the end, I made peace with it and just admitted to myself that it was a sad situation. I think that as I was coming around to be more accepting of him, a lot of change occurred in his life as well. He's semi-retired now, which gives him a lot more time to think about things other than work; all of my grandparents have passed away, which I'm sure has made him think about the value of family and life; my mother doesn't really enrich my father's life, as she has too many problems of her own; and finally, my brother has essentially been disowned. All of these changes have definitely impacted my father's thinking. He actually gave up golf for a weekend to have me visit. Yes yes, fathers are "supposed" to do this and this shouldn't be something to brag about, but again, keeping things in perspective, this is a big deal. And then, a few days ago...I received flowers. When I got them, I ran through a list of individuals who could've sent them. Of course, my family members were not on this list. I opened the card and saw that it was from my dad. It made my year.
The thing is, as much as I'm glad that my father is starting to come around...the thought of him regretting so many years of his life makes me really upset. I would much rather have my grandparents still be alive, my brother not disowned, and my mother emotionally stable even if it means my father would still be, well, a jerk. I'd also much rather have him still be a jerk but not have him feel any sort of pain or remorse about his parenting. I understand that he did the best he could...and I hope he knows that I understand that and hold nothing against him.
I've also come to this realization this month...with all of this family stuff going on: I've spent the last ten years of my life beating myself up about where I am at this point in my life. I tell myself that I could've and should've accomplished more, that I'm not as smart as I'd like to be, I'm not as evolved, I'm not successful enough, I'm not good enough at X or Y...etc. I've been dwelling on all of the things that I am not. But when I attempt to objectively think about my family situation, the fact that I genuinely do not want my father hurting for any reason despite the way he treated me says something. Maybe I'm not as bad as I thought.
Or maybe I'm a masochist.
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Unhealthy obsession.. |
| Time: | 10:45 am. |
| Mood: |  amused. | | Music: | Radiohead - The Bends. |
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I have some sort of bizarre addiction to popcorn. I think it's because I love both sodium and butter, but I'm not sure. I've been going for the low sodium/low fat kind, and I'm still loving it. Here's the problem though: Microwaveable popcorn SUCKS. I'm talking about the ones that are folded up, that you take out of a plastic wrapper and put in the center of your microwave. The unpopped kernels that are always left at the bottom of the bag is always disappointing, and being the cheap bastard that I am, I wind up burning the shit out of a majority of the perfectly good popcorn just to make sure the few unpopped kernels at the bottom end up popping. The sad part is, I eat every last bit anyway, and even get a kick out of eating the unpopped kernels sometimes. Sure, they get stuck in my teeth, cut up my gums, make me thirsty, and leave my hands greasy, but popcorn is just so good.
Given this weird addiction, I've contemplated going and getting one of those popcorn popper machine thingies. I'm not sure if using those makes better popcorn than the microweavable ones. Also, there are so many different brands of microwaveable popcorn - how do you know which one to pick? And, even if I were to find the best popcorn and the best popcorn popper, is it going to be worth it in the end? I mean, how much difference can there be between microweavable popcorn and machine-popped popcorn?
Does anyone have any ideas?
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Feeling so old! |
| Time: | 12:04 am. |
| Mood: |  thoughtful. |
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Heya - ah, a publicly posted journal for once...instead of friends only.
For some reason, I was thinking back to my past birthdays. I'm realizing how fast time has gone by and continues to go by. It feels as though I was in a skydiving injury so recently, and the accident happened so long ago. It was three or four years ago...I can't even remember. Time seems to be blending together.
My 21st birthday, I was on crutches. I remember going to Sports Depot and Centerfolds with my buddy Brian in a red dress, and I had a tan.
My 22nd birthday was spent with Nieve, who bought me 22 lillies. They were so beautiful!! He tried to be all romantic, and "make" me dinner...which was actually just Anna's Taqueria beef burritos and fruit from Chinatown. The cutest thing was that he actually lit candles.
My 23rd birthday was also spent with Nieve. I didn't want anything for my birthday at all, since I don't really like birthdays...but he bought me "Finding Nemo", and there were whale watching tickets inside. So cute.
I can't remember any birthdays before then, really. I'm just realizing how fast the last three years have gone by. My 24th birthday is right around the corner. Holy shit.
I've been with Nieve almost 2 years. Well, 21 months or so. That just blows my mind. It feels like I met him yesterday. I just can't believe how quickly time is passing.
On a side note, I've had the flu for two weeks and I still feel awful. To top it off, I have two fever blisters the size of Texas on my upper lip. I only get them when I'm really sick and run a high fever. It's so unsightly and gross.
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| Subject: | Knitting for nothing.. |
| Time: | 7:55 pm. |
| Mood: |  sympathetic. |
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I love to knit, especially when I'm knitting something for whom I really care. Actually, I can't knit at all unless I really care for the person for whom I'm knitting. If I don't give a shit about the person, I don't finish the project.
A professor of mine was pregnant. Two months ago, when she was showing, I decided I'd knit a few baby items. I understand that I didn't really know the professor, but I just love babies so much.
I spent an hour or two looking through knitting books picking out the perfect patterns, and then went to the yarn store trying to pick out the best and suitable colors for the baby. I must've been there for at least an hour and a half. I didn't know the gender of the baby, so I had to make a little extra effort making sure the colors would suit either a boy or girl. This act by itself made me feel connected to the baby, because I had to picture how each color would look on either gender.
I bought so much yarn - enough for several projects: a scarf, a hat, a pair of socks, two sweaters, and a jacket. I knew the baby was due in April, so I had to plan out the sizes of each knit item, such as figuring out how old the baby would be when Winter came and knitting the appropriate item at the appropriate size. This again made me feel connected to the baby. I kept picturing either a boy or girl in a crib or stroller or walking around...in each knit item. I even bought hand soap imagining drool and food getting on the sweater during feeding time. Maybe I got too attached to a baby that wasn't even mine and that wasn't even born yet, but that is what happens when you start making something for someone. You become invested in the gift, and for whom you are giving the gift.
Last week, a substitute was in my Religious Quest class. The class was informed that my professor miscarried - 8 months into her pregnancy. I became so watery eyed. I'm still so upset by it. I know it isn't my child that is lost, so I'm not as devastated as my professor is, of course. But, I still feel so upset by it. Even if I hadn't knit anything, I would be upset. I keep wondering how my professor is doing, how grief stricken she must be, how she is coping.
It has been over a week, and I haven't really gotten over it yet. I was thinking of buying some soaps, candles, and bubble bath for my professor, and mailing it to her over the summer. I still feel an obligation to come through with some kind of gift, because she knew I was making something for the baby. I obviously can't give her those knit items now, but I still feel obligated to give her something. So, maybe I should give her something to remind her that she needs to take care of, and occasionally, pamper herself.
Do you guys have any ideas?
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Monday, January 31st, 2005
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| Subject: | Unusual Dreams... |
| Time: | 12:34 pm. |
| Mood: |  calm. | | Music: | Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan. |
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I had the most bizarre dream last night. My dreams are always quite vivid, but this one was a heartbreaker.
I had a dream that I was in Italy, while Nazis were coming to kill me. I heard rifles being fired and tried to grab my dogs (the ones I have in real life) before running out of my home. For those of you who know me, I'm sure you know how Maximus is. He comes when you don't want him to come, and when you ask him to come, he stands there and decides to run away, thinking it's a game of some kind. Hera, as some of you know, is afraid of everything. When you approach her, she runs.
So in my dream, I went to get them and called for them, but Maximus thought it was some kind of game and ran off. Hera ran away from me and hid under a table and began to bark. As I stood there trying to coax my dogs to come, I heard footsteps coming up the rear of the house and knew that the Nazis were coming for me (this is odd because I'm not Jewish). I left them behind and prayed for their safety as I ran out my front door. I cried as I left my house, realizing that I would probably never see my dogs again. After about an hour of running/hiding from the Nazis, I decided to go back to get Maximus and Hera out of my home. As I approached my home in daylight, I noticed that there were several people inside my living room. They were not wearing any kind of uniform, and thus, I surmised that they were Italian and it would be safe. However, as I crept up the back stairs, I heard screaming in Italian (I don't actually speak Italian), "JEW! IT'S A JEW! QUICKLY, GET THE JEW!" There was no way that I was leaving without my dogs, but I realized that they were already gone.
Heartbroken, yet afraid, I ran away wanting to mourn, but knowing that I had to save my own life. As I began to run, I noticed a fenced in area in one of the yards of the neighboring houses. Alas! My dogs were inside, but along with them was an enormous Mastiff, the size of a dinosaur. He had a vicious temperament and he was growling at me voraciously. Regardless, I stepped in and I lay down to encourage Hera to approach. They both came and I grabbed both of them, one in each hand, and ran to safety.
I'm not sure why I had such an unusual dream, and this was the second or third dream that I had to rescue my dogs. Actually, I had one dream where latin american terrorists raided my house and I hid under my bed. Hera started barking (because despite her being 3 lbs, she's a good guard dog) and one of the terrorists picked her up and snapped her neck. I saw from under the bed, wanted to scream or cry, but knew I had to keep quiet. I normally don't have violent dreams at all. I think that because of their size, I feel this need to protect them and always fear that they will be hurt. Perhaps it's that fear that is manifesting itself into my dreams.
Oh, father Freud, what would you say about that? Actually, this would be a good time to re-read "The Interpretation of Dreams". Anyway, I just realized that many of you don't actually know what Maximus and Hera look like. God, I'm like one of those annoying mothers, "Look at my baby! Isn't he/she cute! This is him/her in the shower...oh, and look..this is him on the potty. Here's another potty shot. Oh! This is his first tooth!" Oops, I'm blabbing. I'm going to upload some photos. Adorable dogs, they are! Yoda, I am.
Maximus, Marzipan, and Hera Hera
 
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Comments: Read 4 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, November 16th, 2004
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| Subject: | The End of Heartache... |
| Time: | 12:45 pm. |
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With all of my angsty postings, I completely forgot to write about all of the good things. Saturday, I went to see Killswitch Engage/Mastadon/Slayer. Ok, so I'm not a big Slayer fan and Mastadon is good, but man...KILLSWITCH ENGAGE!!! God, they were awesome live. I wish at least one member of the fuckin' band was good looking. Regardless, they're still my current favorite. I love metal, and I love seeing live bands, I just absolutely hate the fans. After the show, I got on the tour bus and hung out with Joel...nicest guy ever. I've been glowing ever since. I've also been tired ever since, but that's not the point. It was KILLSWITCH ENGAGE!!! I hope they come around again SOON.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | How homocidal are YOU?!? |
| Time: | 10:14 am. |
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This is so accurate..it's scary.
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Comments: Add Your Own.
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| Subject: | Friends only |
| Time: | 10:14 am. |
| Mood: |  complacent. |
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I never quite understood individuals who wrote that they used Live Journal for themselves and not for others to read. Let's be honest, here. There are plenty of journal writing programs that can save your journal entries as efficiently as LJ can, and for those of us who are a bit more old-fashioned, bookstores and paper shops have a beautiful selection of journals to write in. Buy one of those and pick your favorite Mont Blanc, and begin your creative journey.
I write on Live Journal because there's a part of me that wants to be known. Being shy and somewhat nerdy...ok, really nerdy...I tend to be quiet and spend a lot of time alone. I enjoy my time alone, I really do. However, I think that the way I look is misleading to many. My shyness often comes off as arrogance to people. My paradoxical lifestyle is often misunderstood. So, here's my chance to tell the world who I am and what I'm doing. I can write about what I'm really thinking. How I tick.
Unfortunately, several people have posted to my journal anonymously with rather hateful things to say. I have no issues with people expressing their opinions of me, for it gives me some insight on what my potential character flaws are. However, attacking my ethnic background or my childhood to be hurtful is not productive. Attacking me anonymously is also pretty weak. I may not be able to filter out racism, ignorance, or cruelty in the real world. The internet, however, lets me do that. Therefore, I've edited all my posts to "friends only".
Anyway, I'm sorry to shut people out because I thought this would be a safe outlet to express my thoughts without being judged and without judging others. However, I find that due to the fact that people can hide behind their monitors and feel invincible, their actions and words are expressed with much animosity. It makes me somewhat cynical about human nature, and I'd like to still believe that people are innately good.
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