Andrew and I were sitting on the couch last night watching "Pretty In Pink" (a true 80's classic) and we got on the topic of not feeling healthy enough. I was complaining about how I don't really do anything very active during the week other than walking/running around the vet's office doing appointments and such. And he was concurring that he felt similar because he sits at a desk all day long.
So i said, "we should start running!" (Let me just make a small, perhaps insignificant note here...I have never been a runner. Yoga and Pilates= more my speed.)
Knowing Andrew and his unwillingness to make an actual plan (he likes to be spontaneous), we came to an agreement that we would motivate each other to try to walk/run at least 3 times a week. Today was our first venture out and this is how it began:
6:10am: Phoebe jumps on my face.
6:12am: I open my eyes and see 10 staring back at me....never a pleasant sight.
6:13am: I finally break (as I always do) because I'm awake now and there is no point trying to pretend that I'm asleep so the vultures will go away...because they don't care. They just want breakfast.
6:20am: After almost breaking my neck trying to reach the light before someone trips me, blocking Leira strategically to prevent her from eating any of the cat's food and then getting the correct food in all the correct bowls (Tuna and Phoebe on regular adult, Lorelai currently on a mixture of adult and a urinary tract diet and Dip and Bianca on a Senior formula) , I crawl back into bed. And I lay there on my back, eyes wide open and stare at the ceiling. (Sleeping in...never really an option.)
6:23am: My eyes are fluttering shut and.....I hear someone hacking. (Damn it!) I fumble for the light and turn it on just in time to see the 2 piles of vomit that Lorelai has just thrown up.
I don't do vomit early in the morning for I might vomit myself. So Andrew (wonderful boyfriend that he is) grabs a towel and the resolve (best.cleaning.up.pet.goo.EVER!) and I check on our furry friend to make sure she's ok. She's fine. Just a combination of eating too fast and getting used to a new food (even though I mixed in equal proportions of old and new food like I'm supposed to. Why can't my pets be text book?)
6:28am: Back in bed.
6:29am:Leira shoves her paw in my face. And I hear a random scratching sound like someone is in the litter box in the bedroom. But wait...there is no litter box in the bedroom. I fumble for the light switch again and see that Lorelai has indeed urinated on a pillow that I had left on the floor. (well, at least she's peeing more now...)
I get up, throw it and previous vomit soiled towel into the washing machine and go ahead and start it to prevent the smell from lingering.
6:34am: Said washing machine is processed! It starts making this horrendous noise like it's going to attack any minute and I exclaim to Andrew, "Our neighbors officially hate us." He gets up and turns it off.
6:36am: We look at each other, "Do you just want to get up and go running?"
Defeated, I say "Ok."
6:42am: We're in our running gear, stumbling over Leira trying to get our socks and shoes on but she knows something's up and she's going to get to do something very exciting in her world and she can barley contain herself! I get one sock on but struggle with the next because she keeps sneaking up behind me and licking my armpit....so.not.cute.
6:45am: We make it downstairs and find yet another pile of vomit (this time a hairball so Dip or Bianca is most likely the culprit) and another spot of urine on the carpet. (Really?)
6:48am: Resolve is put away, icky spots are drying and Leira's leash is on. We walk out the door and begin our jog.
7:00am: We soon discover that Leira is not equipped for jogging (even at our slow pace.) She keeps getting distracted by all of the smells and keeps looking up at us like "jeez guys, where's breakfast?" She too exhibits a bit of dry heaving and doesn't quite vomit, but does shake her head resulting in a big pile of slobber landing on the very top of her head. This apparently makes her feel better and she picks up speed.
Overall the jog (let's be honest, mostly fast-pace walking...?) went pretty well. And we both do feel better, having got up and started our day using some energy. Our next goal is Tuesday morning (but it's not a "plan" per Andrew...we're going to wing it.)
I've decided that the earlier morning events resulted from the pets overhearing our conversation from the night before and wanting to help "motivate" us to get up this morning.
If this is the case, I love you guys, but your technique needs a bit of improvement.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
It just goes to show
I work in a profession that offers ups and downs periodically throughout the day. One second, I could go into an appointment and see a new puppy or kitten and the next could be filled with my co-workers and I struggling to keep a suffering pet alive.
I must say that the clinic I work at is located in an area where most of our clients can afford what's needed to be done to keep their pet healthy. The majority of our patients are up to date on vaccines and come in at least once a year for their exams.
But we do have a handful of clients that aren't as great about keeping their pets current on everything whether it's from the economy being bad or from their lacking ability to see the importance of why we recommend these things to be done.
No judgment is being placed. I completely respect the decisions made by most owners in most situations, but sometimes we are brutally reminded why we give the whole spill each time a pet comes in for vaccines. That these things are important and it's important that we keep reaching out, especially to that small group of people who doesn't see a need in having it done on a yearly basis. Because bad things can happen. And in Gin's case, they did.
Every time we see the name of this Rottweiler (or any other owned by this particular owner), the other vet techs and I practically draw straws as to who is going to go in. The owner thinks it's humorous that her dogs would bite you in a second. And she has even admitted to encouraging it when she's in her own home with them. I don't know why she has this mentality. Perhaps she likes feeling "protected" by them, but it puts our staff in a difficult situation any time they need to be seen. And I'll admit first hand. I'm scared to death of her dogs.
Gin was a 3 year old, female who was exhibiting signs of vomiting and diarrhea. She hadn't eaten in several days and her energy level was decreasing by the hour. If you have never smelt parvo, consider yourself lucky. It's a smell one never forgets and it sticks with you for the rest of the day. It is more common for puppies to get it than adult dogs because puppies are more susceptible to diseases since they are working on building up their immunity through the first several months of their lives. This is why puppies get so many vaccinations during their first year and why we continue to vaccinate on into their adult lives. Gin had not been vaccinated for parvo for some time and this was her diagnosis.
To me, it's almost worse seeing a bad dag let you do anything to her. She just laid there as I put her catheter in and started her on fluids. She just laid there when I gave her an injection of medication through her skin. And she just laid there the countless times that we all took turns going in and cleaning up after her. All this from a dog that would, in any other case, rip you to shreds the moment she had the chance to. It's almost like she knew we were trying to help her.
Gin never got better. In fact, her health continued to go down hill. The doctor called the owner and suggested having her taken to a 24 hour facility where she could be watched around the clock. She was informed that Gin's prognosis was not looking good and that we were ill-equipped to do much more for her. The owner elected to come visit her and make her decision from there.
The moment that Gin saw her "mama", she immediately started whining, sending the owner into a fit of tears. Seeing her suffering like that, the owner elected euthanasia.
I was almost angry with this person. Not because she made this decision, but because all of this could have been prevented. I couldn't understand why she hadn't taken action before hand. But maybe she just didn't understand the importance? I guess in retrospect, we'll never know.
When she walked out of the room, I could barely look her in the eye. Though I was upset for her and very sad for the situation, I couldn't really hold back my anger. As she was getting ready to leave, she looked at the doctor and said, "This is probably going to sound mean."
Here we go, I thought to myself. She's going to blame someone else. She's going to cause a scene.
She didn't do either of those things. She said, "I still have medications for Gin at home. Would it be ok if I donated them to a family that needs them for their pet but can't afford them?"
My heart sank. I had stood there and judged her, expecting her to show her ass, and she did the exact opposite. I may never understand her as a person. I may never understand the way she is. But one thing I do understand now is that she did love her dog. And in the end, I guess that's all that really matters.
It just goes to show. Things aren't always as they seem. Sometimes it takes a sad event to be reminded of that, regardless if we understand it or not. I'd like to think that in the end, Gin did know we were all on the same side. And perhaps, in a silent way that only pets have the ability to show us, we all came to an understanding.
May your soul rest in peace Gin. We will always remember you.
I must say that the clinic I work at is located in an area where most of our clients can afford what's needed to be done to keep their pet healthy. The majority of our patients are up to date on vaccines and come in at least once a year for their exams.
But we do have a handful of clients that aren't as great about keeping their pets current on everything whether it's from the economy being bad or from their lacking ability to see the importance of why we recommend these things to be done.
No judgment is being placed. I completely respect the decisions made by most owners in most situations, but sometimes we are brutally reminded why we give the whole spill each time a pet comes in for vaccines. That these things are important and it's important that we keep reaching out, especially to that small group of people who doesn't see a need in having it done on a yearly basis. Because bad things can happen. And in Gin's case, they did.
Every time we see the name of this Rottweiler (or any other owned by this particular owner), the other vet techs and I practically draw straws as to who is going to go in. The owner thinks it's humorous that her dogs would bite you in a second. And she has even admitted to encouraging it when she's in her own home with them. I don't know why she has this mentality. Perhaps she likes feeling "protected" by them, but it puts our staff in a difficult situation any time they need to be seen. And I'll admit first hand. I'm scared to death of her dogs.
Gin was a 3 year old, female who was exhibiting signs of vomiting and diarrhea. She hadn't eaten in several days and her energy level was decreasing by the hour. If you have never smelt parvo, consider yourself lucky. It's a smell one never forgets and it sticks with you for the rest of the day. It is more common for puppies to get it than adult dogs because puppies are more susceptible to diseases since they are working on building up their immunity through the first several months of their lives. This is why puppies get so many vaccinations during their first year and why we continue to vaccinate on into their adult lives. Gin had not been vaccinated for parvo for some time and this was her diagnosis.
To me, it's almost worse seeing a bad dag let you do anything to her. She just laid there as I put her catheter in and started her on fluids. She just laid there when I gave her an injection of medication through her skin. And she just laid there the countless times that we all took turns going in and cleaning up after her. All this from a dog that would, in any other case, rip you to shreds the moment she had the chance to. It's almost like she knew we were trying to help her.
Gin never got better. In fact, her health continued to go down hill. The doctor called the owner and suggested having her taken to a 24 hour facility where she could be watched around the clock. She was informed that Gin's prognosis was not looking good and that we were ill-equipped to do much more for her. The owner elected to come visit her and make her decision from there.
The moment that Gin saw her "mama", she immediately started whining, sending the owner into a fit of tears. Seeing her suffering like that, the owner elected euthanasia.
I was almost angry with this person. Not because she made this decision, but because all of this could have been prevented. I couldn't understand why she hadn't taken action before hand. But maybe she just didn't understand the importance? I guess in retrospect, we'll never know.
When she walked out of the room, I could barely look her in the eye. Though I was upset for her and very sad for the situation, I couldn't really hold back my anger. As she was getting ready to leave, she looked at the doctor and said, "This is probably going to sound mean."
Here we go, I thought to myself. She's going to blame someone else. She's going to cause a scene.
She didn't do either of those things. She said, "I still have medications for Gin at home. Would it be ok if I donated them to a family that needs them for their pet but can't afford them?"
My heart sank. I had stood there and judged her, expecting her to show her ass, and she did the exact opposite. I may never understand her as a person. I may never understand the way she is. But one thing I do understand now is that she did love her dog. And in the end, I guess that's all that really matters.
It just goes to show. Things aren't always as they seem. Sometimes it takes a sad event to be reminded of that, regardless if we understand it or not. I'd like to think that in the end, Gin did know we were all on the same side. And perhaps, in a silent way that only pets have the ability to show us, we all came to an understanding.
May your soul rest in peace Gin. We will always remember you.
It doesn't take much
So yesterday was my day off. I spent the morning volunteering at the SPCA as I do every Thursday. Then I came home, took a shower and started cleaning the house while listening to the Pat Benatar station on Pandora. (I was totally rocking out!)
After some extensive cleaning, including, but not limited too, spending an entire hour shoveling out all 4 (yes 4) litter boxes, emptying them completely, wiping them down with Clorox and then refilling them (and not 2 seconds later , I turn around and Tuna is taking a dump....figures).
I'm off track....Right. So then I decided to go run some errands.
My first stop was Goodwill where I found 3 books and a pair of jeans for only $5.50! (Awesome!) However, I did have to try on the jeans in a dressing room with very thin walls and I could hear the lady beside me having an argument....with herself. Very strange. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but she kept going on and on and on and on and saying "Oh Lordy" over and over again. Later I saw this same customer up at the cash register asking over and over how much each item was, not even giving the poor cashier much of a chance to answer. And she's allowed to go out in public...crazy!
Then I went to Target to get some essentials (shaving lotion, soap, toilet paper, ect.). My cashier was a bit odd and kept looking at the toilet paper with a side glace...almost like he was embarrassed by it. (Hello. We all use it buddy...not. that. weird. of a purchase.) Then he proceeded to shove it in my face after ringing it up, saying "Here!". I almost dropped it as I was trying to put my debit card back in my wallet (yea for me putting it back where it belongs....that's another story).
Next was the bank...not all that interesting due to the fact that I never see the money that goes in...it's already pretty much spent. So sad. Next was bath and body works where I got an excellent deal on hand soap (3 for $10!!!). A whole lot of awesome-ness:).
By this time, I was in great need of some socialization. I went home and walked Leira, fed everybody and then sat by the window (like the puppy I apparantly am) until Andrew came home. Leira and I greeted him at the door where she thin sat real pretty and showed him her brand new collar. (So cute and green with POLKA DOTS!!!). So exciting. Then we proceeded to follow him upstairs, as I stopped to show him all the cleaning I had done and asked him about his day.
We were laying on the bed when I suddenly got the urge to try one of my sweat shirts on Leira to see what would happen. (I've been trying to convince Andrew for months that she would look so super cute in a little hoodie.) This was the result:
By far. This was the most entertaining and interesting part of my day. Gotta love cheap entertainment. It doesn't take much to make us happy.
After some extensive cleaning, including, but not limited too, spending an entire hour shoveling out all 4 (yes 4) litter boxes, emptying them completely, wiping them down with Clorox and then refilling them (and not 2 seconds later , I turn around and Tuna is taking a dump....figures).
I'm off track....Right. So then I decided to go run some errands.
My first stop was Goodwill where I found 3 books and a pair of jeans for only $5.50! (Awesome!) However, I did have to try on the jeans in a dressing room with very thin walls and I could hear the lady beside me having an argument....with herself. Very strange. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but she kept going on and on and on and on and saying "Oh Lordy" over and over again. Later I saw this same customer up at the cash register asking over and over how much each item was, not even giving the poor cashier much of a chance to answer. And she's allowed to go out in public...crazy!
Then I went to Target to get some essentials (shaving lotion, soap, toilet paper, ect.). My cashier was a bit odd and kept looking at the toilet paper with a side glace...almost like he was embarrassed by it. (Hello. We all use it buddy...not. that. weird. of a purchase.) Then he proceeded to shove it in my face after ringing it up, saying "Here!". I almost dropped it as I was trying to put my debit card back in my wallet (yea for me putting it back where it belongs....that's another story).
Next was the bank...not all that interesting due to the fact that I never see the money that goes in...it's already pretty much spent. So sad. Next was bath and body works where I got an excellent deal on hand soap (3 for $10!!!). A whole lot of awesome-ness:).
By this time, I was in great need of some socialization. I went home and walked Leira, fed everybody and then sat by the window (like the puppy I apparantly am) until Andrew came home. Leira and I greeted him at the door where she thin sat real pretty and showed him her brand new collar. (So cute and green with POLKA DOTS!!!). So exciting. Then we proceeded to follow him upstairs, as I stopped to show him all the cleaning I had done and asked him about his day.
We were laying on the bed when I suddenly got the urge to try one of my sweat shirts on Leira to see what would happen. (I've been trying to convince Andrew for months that she would look so super cute in a little hoodie.) This was the result:
By far. This was the most entertaining and interesting part of my day. Gotta love cheap entertainment. It doesn't take much to make us happy.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Things I hold Onto
1) Memories (both good and bad)
2) Friendships (Even those of whom I haven't been in touch with for awhile. I hold each of you dearly in my heart.)
3) Old pictures and photo albums.
4) Baby clothes and stuffed animals.
5) Movie posters.
6) My mom's old stethoscope.
7) Old calenders with picture's ranging from animals to Audrey Hepburn.
8) Old cards and notes.
9) C.D's and movies collected over the years.
10) The pain caused by others.
11) The pain I caused towards others.
12) The happiness caused by others.
13) The happiness I have caused for others.
14) Music.
15) Peace.
16) Serenity.
17) The beauty of the world around us.
18) My parent's house, my old home.
19) Past and present pets.
20) Knowledge.
21) Understanding.
22) Books.
23) Daddy's hand.
24) One last glance.
25) My grandmother's beauty.
26) My grandfather's old zippo lighter.
27) Smiles.
28) Frowns.
29) Ups.
30) Downs.
31) Love.
2) Friendships (Even those of whom I haven't been in touch with for awhile. I hold each of you dearly in my heart.)
3) Old pictures and photo albums.
4) Baby clothes and stuffed animals.
5) Movie posters.
6) My mom's old stethoscope.
7) Old calenders with picture's ranging from animals to Audrey Hepburn.
8) Old cards and notes.
9) C.D's and movies collected over the years.
10) The pain caused by others.
11) The pain I caused towards others.
12) The happiness caused by others.
13) The happiness I have caused for others.
14) Music.
15) Peace.
16) Serenity.
17) The beauty of the world around us.
18) My parent's house, my old home.
19) Past and present pets.
20) Knowledge.
21) Understanding.
22) Books.
23) Daddy's hand.
24) One last glance.
25) My grandmother's beauty.
26) My grandfather's old zippo lighter.
27) Smiles.
28) Frowns.
29) Ups.
30) Downs.
31) Love.
Saved by the bell
I was thinking about this show this morning because the song was stuck in my head. (To make a long story short, Andrew gave me his old phone to use to replace my phone that Leira decided to eat. His old ring tone is the saved by the bell theme...hence why it has been stuck in my head for the past 2 days.) One of the lines being "If I slump in my chair, then she won't know that I'm there" (yes! I know all the lyrics...jealous?) made me think about when I was in 5th grade.
Our teacher handed out individual copies of "Reader's Digest" to all of the students and we were asked to read the story portrayed in a certain section of the magazine...I forget which section that was. We were given a certain amount of time and then were told that we would have to give a short synopsis on what we had just read. The reading part I wasn't so worried about, but I hated the idea of talking in front of my fellow classmates.
Oh well, I thought to myself, it's a few minutes out of my life and then it will be over. I glanced down to see the title of the story I was about to read....and saw that dreaded word....SEX.
Oh God.
I spent the majority of our given time, trying to think of what I was supposed to say when it was my turn. I never even said this word out loud and I was blushing even thinking about the word alone. All I could find myself thinking about was when my parents sat me down to have "the talk", which involved me sitting between them and them placing a book in my lap. I don't even remember this conversation. All I remember is staring down at the book and not even wanting to touch it. Of course they chose this time in my life to tell me about Santa Claus as well.
I have never been the same since.
As I was watching the clock slowly tick by the minutes, I suddenly got an outstanding idea! I was sitting in the back row and all I had to do was slump really low down in my chair and my teacher wouldn't even see me! Brilliant!!! I was going to make it out alive after all.
It was getting closer and closer to my turn. Suddenly, there were only two people left to go in front of me. Now one. Now....silence.
"Oh. There you are Mary. I almost didn't see you."
Was that my name? Oh God. She said my name. What do I do? , random thoughts popping in and out of my head on what to do or say.
I looked to my left. I looked to my right. No one there to help me. The boys were starting to snicker. Stupid boys. Why do there have to be boys anyway? They're gross and stupid and icky...
Oh..... right.
Suddenly this huge figure was towering above me. I tried to look up at her but my neck failed me. She was saying something. What was she saying? Her voice was getting louder. She was pointing at the betraying magazine lying on my desk unopened.
"WHAT WAS YOUR STORY ABOUT? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH YOUR TIME?"
She was yelling at me. And all I could do was stare blankly. I was getting in trouble and it was her OWN stupid fault for not looking at the headlines before hand.
I continued to say absolutely nothing as she flailed about, pointing and yelling...and finally giving me an x-mark on my once clear record of never getting into trouble. (There was a board with all of the student's names on it. There were several columns and we were each allowed 3 strikes before we got after school detention. I now had 1.)
But I never said a word.
She was evil for making this assignment. All boys were evil for laughing at me. Reader's Digest was evil for writing such an article (one that I still have no clue what it entailed.) And above all, the most evil of all things evil...was sex.
The bell rang, but it was too late. Class was over . The damage was already done.
Dreaded S.E.X that you are. I shall never forgive you for this embarrassment. Oh why oh why could I have not just this once, been saved by the bell?
Our teacher handed out individual copies of "Reader's Digest" to all of the students and we were asked to read the story portrayed in a certain section of the magazine...I forget which section that was. We were given a certain amount of time and then were told that we would have to give a short synopsis on what we had just read. The reading part I wasn't so worried about, but I hated the idea of talking in front of my fellow classmates.
Oh well, I thought to myself, it's a few minutes out of my life and then it will be over. I glanced down to see the title of the story I was about to read....and saw that dreaded word....SEX.
Oh God.
I spent the majority of our given time, trying to think of what I was supposed to say when it was my turn. I never even said this word out loud and I was blushing even thinking about the word alone. All I could find myself thinking about was when my parents sat me down to have "the talk", which involved me sitting between them and them placing a book in my lap. I don't even remember this conversation. All I remember is staring down at the book and not even wanting to touch it. Of course they chose this time in my life to tell me about Santa Claus as well.
I have never been the same since.
As I was watching the clock slowly tick by the minutes, I suddenly got an outstanding idea! I was sitting in the back row and all I had to do was slump really low down in my chair and my teacher wouldn't even see me! Brilliant!!! I was going to make it out alive after all.
It was getting closer and closer to my turn. Suddenly, there were only two people left to go in front of me. Now one. Now....silence.
"Oh. There you are Mary. I almost didn't see you."
Was that my name? Oh God. She said my name. What do I do? , random thoughts popping in and out of my head on what to do or say.
I looked to my left. I looked to my right. No one there to help me. The boys were starting to snicker. Stupid boys. Why do there have to be boys anyway? They're gross and stupid and icky...
Oh..... right.
Suddenly this huge figure was towering above me. I tried to look up at her but my neck failed me. She was saying something. What was she saying? Her voice was getting louder. She was pointing at the betraying magazine lying on my desk unopened.
"WHAT WAS YOUR STORY ABOUT? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH YOUR TIME?"
She was yelling at me. And all I could do was stare blankly. I was getting in trouble and it was her OWN stupid fault for not looking at the headlines before hand.
I continued to say absolutely nothing as she flailed about, pointing and yelling...and finally giving me an x-mark on my once clear record of never getting into trouble. (There was a board with all of the student's names on it. There were several columns and we were each allowed 3 strikes before we got after school detention. I now had 1.)
But I never said a word.
She was evil for making this assignment. All boys were evil for laughing at me. Reader's Digest was evil for writing such an article (one that I still have no clue what it entailed.) And above all, the most evil of all things evil...was sex.
The bell rang, but it was too late. Class was over . The damage was already done.
Dreaded S.E.X that you are. I shall never forgive you for this embarrassment. Oh why oh why could I have not just this once, been saved by the bell?
Lorelai
Our cat Lorelai has a personality of her own. Her facial expressions alone tell us exactly what she's thinking about any given situation.
Lately, she has taken up watching t.v. She used to only watch "The Lorelai Show", which consisted of her just sitting in front of the blank screen and watching her own reflection move around as she did. But now she has stepped up and shown more interest than just her pretty face on the blank screen.
She had previously shown an interest in Gilmore Girls (Why wouldn't she? That's where her namesake came from.) However lately, she has broadened her interests which have included the following: Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (A true classic), Barrack Obama's address on the stimulus plan (our little democrat), and the ending of Where the heart is.
The most recent interest (Where the Heart Is) included her sitting on the bookcase watching the movie intently. The movie was finally building up to the ending scene (when Folley and Novalee finally get together) and here comes Lorelai, appearing out of nowhere and sitting directly in front of the t.v. As the two characters stare at each other on screen and lean in for that awaited kiss,Lorelai suddenly reached her paw up onto Folley's face and stared lovingly.....therefore sending both Andrew and I into a fit of laughter.
Perhaps you had to be there, but I still burst into a fit of giggles when I think about it. Who knew she would be such a romantic? God love her. She is definitely an individual.
Lorelai: Aspiring to be the next U.S. President
Lately, she has taken up watching t.v. She used to only watch "The Lorelai Show", which consisted of her just sitting in front of the blank screen and watching her own reflection move around as she did. But now she has stepped up and shown more interest than just her pretty face on the blank screen.
She had previously shown an interest in Gilmore Girls (Why wouldn't she? That's where her namesake came from.) However lately, she has broadened her interests which have included the following: Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (A true classic), Barrack Obama's address on the stimulus plan (our little democrat), and the ending of Where the heart is.
The most recent interest (Where the Heart Is) included her sitting on the bookcase watching the movie intently. The movie was finally building up to the ending scene (when Folley and Novalee finally get together) and here comes Lorelai, appearing out of nowhere and sitting directly in front of the t.v. As the two characters stare at each other on screen and lean in for that awaited kiss,Lorelai suddenly reached her paw up onto Folley's face and stared lovingly.....therefore sending both Andrew and I into a fit of laughter.
Perhaps you had to be there, but I still burst into a fit of giggles when I think about it. Who knew she would be such a romantic? God love her. She is definitely an individual.
Lorelai: Aspiring to be the next U.S. President
Monday, March 9, 2009
Writer's Block
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The fear of all fears when it comes to trying to be a successful writer. It has happened folks. For the past 3 days I haven't been able to think of anything to write about! So sad so sad.
And it seems like every time I do think of something,I'm driving or have no access to a computer or a pen and paper.I think to myself, "It's OK. I won't forget it." And alas, I get home and it's forgotten. What to do what to do.
Maybe I should get a tape recorder. Seems like I had one lying around here some where. What ever happened to that thing? I don't have any tapes for it anyway...or batteries...plus there's the whole possibility that I sold it...but I don't remember.
I do have a notepad in my purse, but I don't feel comfortable writing anything down when I'm in the process of driving. Believe me, I have tried this before, and it wasn't pretty. I either go back and try to look at what I wrote down and can't even decipher it, or I almost end up driving off the side of the road.
Hopefully this is just temporary. Though I'm sure as soon as I get in the car to drive to work, I will think of something. Woe is me.
Better luck next time.
And it seems like every time I do think of something,I'm driving or have no access to a computer or a pen and paper.I think to myself, "It's OK. I won't forget it." And alas, I get home and it's forgotten. What to do what to do.
Maybe I should get a tape recorder. Seems like I had one lying around here some where. What ever happened to that thing? I don't have any tapes for it anyway...or batteries...plus there's the whole possibility that I sold it...but I don't remember.
I do have a notepad in my purse, but I don't feel comfortable writing anything down when I'm in the process of driving. Believe me, I have tried this before, and it wasn't pretty. I either go back and try to look at what I wrote down and can't even decipher it, or I almost end up driving off the side of the road.
Hopefully this is just temporary. Though I'm sure as soon as I get in the car to drive to work, I will think of something. Woe is me.
Better luck next time.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Dreams
I keep having this reoccurring dream that I'm drowning. I'm usually walking along the beach and suddenly the tide starts getting closer and closer to me. No matter how far I stray, even if it's to the nearest beach house, the water always finds me and sucks me away.
On several occasions in these dreams, I will come very close to drowning, gasping for air each time a wave plummets me. I always seem to find my footing and suddenly I'm back on the shore again. The last time I had this dream...my head never broke the surface again. I remember reaching for Andrew and our eyes locking; fingers almost touching, then realizing that he wasn't going to be able to save me and mouthing the words "I love you".
Sad. Right?
But then I started thinking. What could this symbolize? I have always kind of been a "keep it to myself" sort of person. There are certain things I just don't talk about and if I do, I am only able to talk about them for a certain amount of time before I close up completely and change the subject. Maybe the "drowning" is a symbol for this avoidance.
Maybe Andrew's reaching out for my hand and me almost taking it, but pulling back, is a symbol of me not opening up enough to him or anyone else that I love. I don't know why I do this. I don't think it's fear. I've never been afraid to do anything. I didn't get where I am today by being afraid.
But maybe it's because I have taken so many chances in my past and this is what makes me hesitant. What if I take the chance in opening up completely and then only get hurt again? Not necessarily by him or anyone else, but by myself. What if I let out what I'm feeling and say it out loud, only to feel worse in the end because it's out in the open and therefore becomes more than my burden to bare?
I can handle hurting on my own, but I've been the cause, or the link to the cause of someone else hurting way too many times. I don't want to do that again. But I don't want to drown either.
On several occasions in these dreams, I will come very close to drowning, gasping for air each time a wave plummets me. I always seem to find my footing and suddenly I'm back on the shore again. The last time I had this dream...my head never broke the surface again. I remember reaching for Andrew and our eyes locking; fingers almost touching, then realizing that he wasn't going to be able to save me and mouthing the words "I love you".
Sad. Right?
But then I started thinking. What could this symbolize? I have always kind of been a "keep it to myself" sort of person. There are certain things I just don't talk about and if I do, I am only able to talk about them for a certain amount of time before I close up completely and change the subject. Maybe the "drowning" is a symbol for this avoidance.
Maybe Andrew's reaching out for my hand and me almost taking it, but pulling back, is a symbol of me not opening up enough to him or anyone else that I love. I don't know why I do this. I don't think it's fear. I've never been afraid to do anything. I didn't get where I am today by being afraid.
But maybe it's because I have taken so many chances in my past and this is what makes me hesitant. What if I take the chance in opening up completely and then only get hurt again? Not necessarily by him or anyone else, but by myself. What if I let out what I'm feeling and say it out loud, only to feel worse in the end because it's out in the open and therefore becomes more than my burden to bare?
I can handle hurting on my own, but I've been the cause, or the link to the cause of someone else hurting way too many times. I don't want to do that again. But I don't want to drown either.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Beware: Evil Family Members Unite
So, I was downloading pictures from my phone to my email address the other day because I need to get a new phone....(because Leira decided to try to eat my current one...) and I came across this picture:
Pure evidence that my brother Pat and sister-in-law Jenn are E.V.I.L.
For those of you who have not had to suffer through the torment that is the movie "The Strangers", don't waste your time. Two words: Scary Ass Shit! (OK, that's 3 words, but I'm only trying to get my point across).
During the whole movie, I was curled up in the tiniest ball possible, wedged against the arm rest and Andrew's shoulder. I was focusing more on the random comments flowing throughout the theater (Among my favorites being: "That's f***ed up" and "Oh she'll have sex with him, but she won't marry him"...this comment actually coming from a guy. Yea for you buddy!) than the actual movie itself.
So anyway. After the movie ended, we went to Andrew's and my apartment. Before entering the door completely, I made him and Pat search inside all of the closets, under the bed, behind the washer and dryer, ect, for person(s) hiding and waiting to come out and kill me. After, I got the all clear, Pat and Jenn left, but not without laughing at me. AND. Pat just thought it was hilarious to wait about 5 minutes and then sneak back up the stairs and bang extremely loudly on the door. So not funny!!
After being terrified and getting absolutely no sleep that night, I opted to skip Sunday dinner at Andrew's parents to stay at home and get some rest. I swear to you, not 10 minutes after he had left and was well on his way, I received this on my cell phone. (I share it with you again for dramatic emphasis).
Yes. That's Pat with a bag on his head.
You are both bastards and will one day suffer when you least expect it.
Pure evidence that my brother Pat and sister-in-law Jenn are E.V.I.L.
For those of you who have not had to suffer through the torment that is the movie "The Strangers", don't waste your time. Two words: Scary Ass Shit! (OK, that's 3 words, but I'm only trying to get my point across).
During the whole movie, I was curled up in the tiniest ball possible, wedged against the arm rest and Andrew's shoulder. I was focusing more on the random comments flowing throughout the theater (Among my favorites being: "That's f***ed up" and "Oh she'll have sex with him, but she won't marry him"...this comment actually coming from a guy. Yea for you buddy!) than the actual movie itself.
So anyway. After the movie ended, we went to Andrew's and my apartment. Before entering the door completely, I made him and Pat search inside all of the closets, under the bed, behind the washer and dryer, ect, for person(s) hiding and waiting to come out and kill me. After, I got the all clear, Pat and Jenn left, but not without laughing at me. AND. Pat just thought it was hilarious to wait about 5 minutes and then sneak back up the stairs and bang extremely loudly on the door. So not funny!!
After being terrified and getting absolutely no sleep that night, I opted to skip Sunday dinner at Andrew's parents to stay at home and get some rest. I swear to you, not 10 minutes after he had left and was well on his way, I received this on my cell phone. (I share it with you again for dramatic emphasis).
Yes. That's Pat with a bag on his head.
You are both bastards and will one day suffer when you least expect it.
Radio
I must say that since my c.d. player in my car broke a little over 1 month ago, I have been indeed suffering through the horrible music the radio has to offer. I find myself hitting the scan and seek buttons more often than stopping to listen to a randomly good song that happens to be playing. And let me just ask, why the hell are the same damn songs played over and over again? Is there no originality in this business? If I hear Guns and Roses' "Sweet Child o' Mine" or Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" one. more. time. I am likely to scream and pull my hair out, therefore causing a wreak and likely having to convince the police that, no, I am not on drugs.
And why is it that every time I scan and it lands on 93.9, another Madonna song is playing? How many songs could she have possibly written? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like Madonna as much as the next guy, but designating a whole radio station to her seems a little overboard if you ask me.
One other thing, Delilah is a bitch. (Sorry for the harshness). She is so mean to the callers that call in to vent and reveal their life's latest sob story and she just sits there and judges them, making comments that are far from helpful. And what's with the music she chooses? Someone could be calling about just loosing his wife in a car crash and she would play "Life is a Highway". That's just wrong.
I will say that I do like 88.1. They seem to focus a lot on local music and newer artists out there trying to get their names out. Unfortunately, however, this station doesn't seem to want anyone to know who these people actually are. I have been late to work on many occasion because I'm stuck, sitting out in my car trying to figure out who sang the song that just played. And each time, I have yet to find out. One would think I would learn that this information is apparently not meant for me to have. And yet, my stubbornness prevails.
So, here is a list of music I would play if I had a radio station:
Over the Rhine
Dar Williams
Norah Jones
Pat Benatar (though some may say shes overly played as well, but I cannot deny my love for her)
Aimee Mann
Indigo Girls
David Wilcox
Ari Hest
Pat Short (a little plug for my brother...he's awesome! www.myspace.com/patshort))
Bob Dylan (Why isn't he played more? Hello! Best. Lyricist.EVER!)
Rusted Root
Ani Difranco
My Morning Jacket
Fleet Foxes
The Arcade Fire
The Be Good Tanyas
Beck
The Bangles
Louis Armstrong (Who doesn't adore him? And I do a great impression of his version of "Hello Dolly", so singing with him in the car would be oober fun!)
Debbie Gibson (Who Loves ya Baby? That's right, I do)
Belle and Sebastian
Camera Obscura
Nickle Creek
Prince
Just to name a few....
Here is a list of artists I would NOT include:
Nickelback (If I hear "Look at this Photograph" one more time...I swear I will kill myself)
James Blunt (though I do like that one song...but that's the only one they play and if you think about the lyrics, it's creepy)
Rascal Flatts
Ozzie Osbourne (for personal reasons and also because he chewed off a pigeon's head. That's cruel people. C.R.U.E.L)
Fall Out Boy
Destiny's Child
Eminim
Furgie
Ashely Simpson
Jessica Simpson
Britney Spears (Though I'll give her credit, she doesn't look like a drunk whore anymore. Yea for her!)
Guns and Roses (Because they have played them into the ground and almost ruined them for me)
Pink
Red Hot Chili Peppers
And anything else that makes me want to vomit.....
Take it as you will, but the radio sucks.
And why is it that every time I scan and it lands on 93.9, another Madonna song is playing? How many songs could she have possibly written? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like Madonna as much as the next guy, but designating a whole radio station to her seems a little overboard if you ask me.
One other thing, Delilah is a bitch. (Sorry for the harshness). She is so mean to the callers that call in to vent and reveal their life's latest sob story and she just sits there and judges them, making comments that are far from helpful. And what's with the music she chooses? Someone could be calling about just loosing his wife in a car crash and she would play "Life is a Highway". That's just wrong.
I will say that I do like 88.1. They seem to focus a lot on local music and newer artists out there trying to get their names out. Unfortunately, however, this station doesn't seem to want anyone to know who these people actually are. I have been late to work on many occasion because I'm stuck, sitting out in my car trying to figure out who sang the song that just played. And each time, I have yet to find out. One would think I would learn that this information is apparently not meant for me to have. And yet, my stubbornness prevails.
So, here is a list of music I would play if I had a radio station:
Over the Rhine
Dar Williams
Norah Jones
Pat Benatar (though some may say shes overly played as well, but I cannot deny my love for her)
Aimee Mann
Indigo Girls
David Wilcox
Ari Hest
Pat Short (a little plug for my brother...he's awesome! www.myspace.com/patshort))
Bob Dylan (Why isn't he played more? Hello! Best. Lyricist.EVER!)
Rusted Root
Ani Difranco
My Morning Jacket
Fleet Foxes
The Arcade Fire
The Be Good Tanyas
Beck
The Bangles
Louis Armstrong (Who doesn't adore him? And I do a great impression of his version of "Hello Dolly", so singing with him in the car would be oober fun!)
Debbie Gibson (Who Loves ya Baby? That's right, I do)
Belle and Sebastian
Camera Obscura
Nickle Creek
Prince
Just to name a few....
Here is a list of artists I would NOT include:
Nickelback (If I hear "Look at this Photograph" one more time...I swear I will kill myself)
James Blunt (though I do like that one song...but that's the only one they play and if you think about the lyrics, it's creepy)
Rascal Flatts
Ozzie Osbourne (for personal reasons and also because he chewed off a pigeon's head. That's cruel people. C.R.U.E.L)
Fall Out Boy
Destiny's Child
Eminim
Furgie
Ashely Simpson
Jessica Simpson
Britney Spears (Though I'll give her credit, she doesn't look like a drunk whore anymore. Yea for her!)
Guns and Roses (Because they have played them into the ground and almost ruined them for me)
Pink
Red Hot Chili Peppers
And anything else that makes me want to vomit.....
Take it as you will, but the radio sucks.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
New Snowglobe Case!
Yea! It's finally here! I have been waiting for this moment to arrive for what seems like an eternity. OK. Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic, but let me start at the beginning.
I started collecting snow globes when I was around 11 or 12. They're the really, pretty Disney ones that are extremely well made and look just like the characters from the movies. (I know. Geek alert! Right?) Oh well. I will flaunt my geekiness with pride gosh darn it! (Who says gosh darn it? I do! That's right...) But anyway, these snow globes have traveled along with me to many an abode, but for the past 5 years, I have had no where to store them. So alas, they have been sitting in their individual boxes, collecting dust and playing their pretty music for no one. So sad. So sad.
So about a year ago, my dad mentioned to his friend J.R. that I had been wanting a special cabinet to put my special snow globes in for display. His friend J.R. is the sweetest man you could ever meet (aside from my own daddy:), though he does look a bit like Yosemite Sam and carries a gun in his boot.
He was more than happy to accept the challenge so the project began.
Each time I went to see my parents in Asheville, I got to see the progress that was being made. Suddenly, the cabinet was starting to look like a real cabinet with glass doors and everything. (So exciting!) J.R's wife Sheila even made the handles out to look like miniature snow globes with The Little Mermaid and Cinderella characters painted on them (yes...I'm still 5 years old, but I love it!:)
I kept thinking it was finished each time I laid eyes upon it, but dad kept finding more things to do to it. For example, it needed to be sanded, stained, yada yada yada. Good God it was taking F.O.R.E.V.E.R. (Not really...but I'm not the most patient person in the world...ask Andrew. )
The other day, I got an email. It was from an email address I had never seen before but I clicked on it anyway, hoping that it wasn't spam. No. It wasn't It was my father. (Who knew he could use email?...Just kidding daddy...you know I only tease because I love.) This magical email enclosed the words I had been waiting to hear (see?). "We are bringing up your cabinet this weekend". A choir sang, bells rang and angels got their wings.("Way to go Clarence!") The day had finally come.
And it's so preeeeety! It sits in our dining room and welcomes us home every day from work. Andrew loves to surprise me with winding up a different one every day so we can hear it's sweet Disney music. They are all displayed once again, finally breaking free from their styrofoam cages and singing their beautiful music. My own "Enchanted" in the form of a cabinet specifically designed for snow globes. Life could not be any sweeter.
I started collecting snow globes when I was around 11 or 12. They're the really, pretty Disney ones that are extremely well made and look just like the characters from the movies. (I know. Geek alert! Right?) Oh well. I will flaunt my geekiness with pride gosh darn it! (Who says gosh darn it? I do! That's right...) But anyway, these snow globes have traveled along with me to many an abode, but for the past 5 years, I have had no where to store them. So alas, they have been sitting in their individual boxes, collecting dust and playing their pretty music for no one. So sad. So sad.
So about a year ago, my dad mentioned to his friend J.R. that I had been wanting a special cabinet to put my special snow globes in for display. His friend J.R. is the sweetest man you could ever meet (aside from my own daddy:), though he does look a bit like Yosemite Sam and carries a gun in his boot.
He was more than happy to accept the challenge so the project began.
Each time I went to see my parents in Asheville, I got to see the progress that was being made. Suddenly, the cabinet was starting to look like a real cabinet with glass doors and everything. (So exciting!) J.R's wife Sheila even made the handles out to look like miniature snow globes with The Little Mermaid and Cinderella characters painted on them (yes...I'm still 5 years old, but I love it!:)
I kept thinking it was finished each time I laid eyes upon it, but dad kept finding more things to do to it. For example, it needed to be sanded, stained, yada yada yada. Good God it was taking F.O.R.E.V.E.R. (Not really...but I'm not the most patient person in the world...ask Andrew. )
The other day, I got an email. It was from an email address I had never seen before but I clicked on it anyway, hoping that it wasn't spam. No. It wasn't It was my father. (Who knew he could use email?...Just kidding daddy...you know I only tease because I love.) This magical email enclosed the words I had been waiting to hear (see?). "We are bringing up your cabinet this weekend". A choir sang, bells rang and angels got their wings.("Way to go Clarence!") The day had finally come.
And it's so preeeeety! It sits in our dining room and welcomes us home every day from work. Andrew loves to surprise me with winding up a different one every day so we can hear it's sweet Disney music. They are all displayed once again, finally breaking free from their styrofoam cages and singing their beautiful music. My own "Enchanted" in the form of a cabinet specifically designed for snow globes. Life could not be any sweeter.
Touchy Subject
I have never been able to write about this subject, let alone even talk about it. Something within me closes up and I suddenly am unable to let my mind and heart open up to the level it takes to be able to express exactly how it makes me feel. But no matter how hard I try to close it up, it's still there, lingering around other topics that I have yet been able to touch upon. So this is my attempt (sad as it may be) to reach out and express how I feel.
I have never had the best self-esteem. My senior year of high school, I lost 10 pounds because the guy I was dating at the time implied that I was chubby and I let myself believe that he was right.Looking back at old pictures, I could have held on to those 10 pounds and looked fine. But it goes back even further than that. I can remember being somewhere between the ages of 8 and 10 and being embarrassed because I thought my friends were prettier and skinnier than me. 8 years old for crying out loud!!! I was a kid! It was ridiculous. I didn't want my mom to take pictures of me and my friends side by side because I was terrified how I would look by comparison.
We live in a world that portrays a "perfect" body by showing pictures of teeny, tiny beautiful models on the fronts of magazines. Their hair and skin are flawless and their bodies have no naturalness to them. It's amazing how this industry is able to get away with having an article about Mary Kate Olsen being anorexic on one page and a list of ways to lose that last 10 pounds on the the next. It's infuriating! How are young teenagers supposed to learn that this is not natural and we are all built differently, which makes us all individually beautiful in our own way? Perhaps it's because these pictures are of adults and they are idolized by these very teenagers and young women of today. I can admit that I'm guilty of this as well.
Anorexia is not something that you can just "get over". Even when you start eating again, the memories are still there. The feelings are still there. And it's so hard not to go back to old habits. I used to go days without eating a whole meal. I have never been a fan of vomiting, so bulimia was always out of the question, so I used the other route....use your imagination. I'm not giving any further info on this topic. I would buy a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter, eat a few and then throw the rest away. (I know right,? This is coming from me, the girl who recycles everything!)I couldn't eat in public because I was embarrassed to be seen carrying out this every day, very normal ritual. Eating became my worst enemy.
I can remember standing in front of a mirror and ridiculing every imperfect feature of my body. I would burn more calories than I took in through rigorous exercises and only drink water because even soft drinks and Gatorade have calories. I would go to bed early, telling my parents I didn't feel well so that I wouldn't be forced to eat a healthy meal or smell the food that by this time only made me nauseous.
It's a disease. And though I feel like, at this point, I have conquered much of it, I am not fully cured. I argue with myself about how I don't eat healthy enough or exercise as much as I should. We all do that right? But do we do it for the right reasons? I know I don't. I just want to be happy with the way I look in a pair of pants or a bathing suit...the health factor is further down on the list of my concerns. I couldn't tell you where this spawns from and I don't even know if that really matters. All I know, is that it's something I have battled for the majority of my life and I'm getting tired of fighting back.
I have never had the best self-esteem. My senior year of high school, I lost 10 pounds because the guy I was dating at the time implied that I was chubby and I let myself believe that he was right.Looking back at old pictures, I could have held on to those 10 pounds and looked fine. But it goes back even further than that. I can remember being somewhere between the ages of 8 and 10 and being embarrassed because I thought my friends were prettier and skinnier than me. 8 years old for crying out loud!!! I was a kid! It was ridiculous. I didn't want my mom to take pictures of me and my friends side by side because I was terrified how I would look by comparison.
We live in a world that portrays a "perfect" body by showing pictures of teeny, tiny beautiful models on the fronts of magazines. Their hair and skin are flawless and their bodies have no naturalness to them. It's amazing how this industry is able to get away with having an article about Mary Kate Olsen being anorexic on one page and a list of ways to lose that last 10 pounds on the the next. It's infuriating! How are young teenagers supposed to learn that this is not natural and we are all built differently, which makes us all individually beautiful in our own way? Perhaps it's because these pictures are of adults and they are idolized by these very teenagers and young women of today. I can admit that I'm guilty of this as well.
Anorexia is not something that you can just "get over". Even when you start eating again, the memories are still there. The feelings are still there. And it's so hard not to go back to old habits. I used to go days without eating a whole meal. I have never been a fan of vomiting, so bulimia was always out of the question, so I used the other route....use your imagination. I'm not giving any further info on this topic. I would buy a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter, eat a few and then throw the rest away. (I know right,? This is coming from me, the girl who recycles everything!)I couldn't eat in public because I was embarrassed to be seen carrying out this every day, very normal ritual. Eating became my worst enemy.
I can remember standing in front of a mirror and ridiculing every imperfect feature of my body. I would burn more calories than I took in through rigorous exercises and only drink water because even soft drinks and Gatorade have calories. I would go to bed early, telling my parents I didn't feel well so that I wouldn't be forced to eat a healthy meal or smell the food that by this time only made me nauseous.
It's a disease. And though I feel like, at this point, I have conquered much of it, I am not fully cured. I argue with myself about how I don't eat healthy enough or exercise as much as I should. We all do that right? But do we do it for the right reasons? I know I don't. I just want to be happy with the way I look in a pair of pants or a bathing suit...the health factor is further down on the list of my concerns. I couldn't tell you where this spawns from and I don't even know if that really matters. All I know, is that it's something I have battled for the majority of my life and I'm getting tired of fighting back.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Responsibility
It seems we all have a tendency to not take responsibility for our own actions. (Myself very much included.) It's so much easier to point the finger and blame someone else than it is to take action and realize that it is none other than ourselves that are to blame.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." So why are we constantly saying things like "You make me feel this way!" when in all reality, we make ourselves feel "this way".
For example, I feel guilty for things in my life that have happened; things that I have said or done, but that I can not change. I can look past it and try to forget about it...but everything lingers. Is this my fault? Short answer. Yes. It is. I'm not being cruel to myself in saying so. I'm only admitting to the fact that I haven't faced these issues like I should have. No. I can't change the past, nor would I want to. I wouldn't be who I am today without living through what I have.
What I wish I could change is the hurt than has come along with it...not only to myself, but mainly to those who were involved. But I can't do that either. So where does that leave me?
Do I revisit this past in hopes that I can find some sort of conclusion? Or do I accept it for what it is and move on? We only live once. And I am a firm believer in living in the present. However, my brain and heart fail me in constantly going back to past issues. It's not easy, nor do I think it's really possible, to let it all go. Perhaps the point to be made is that it should be remembered, for whatever reason, but not re-lived. Perhaps that's what I need to work on. What we all need to work on. Remembering and accepting because it can't be changed, but not remembering so much that it causes the same pain as it did once before. Or is this feat even possible?
I find it is so much easier to forgive someone else than it is to forgive myself. Perhaps that is what I am truly afraid of. I don't want to keep offering up excuses like "I'm only human" and "we all make mistakes", "No one's perfect." And yet, I am more inclined to accept these excuses from everyone else except for myself. Why is that? Because each of these "excuses" are true. I guess it's just too common for them to be used too often and I don't want to fall into that trap.
And another thing, why is it so much easier to say "I'm sorry" to someone else than it is to say "I'm sorry" to ourselves? In the end, ourselves are who we are responsible for. So, maybe we should start focusing on taking care of ourselves, before taking care of someone else.
Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." So why are we constantly saying things like "You make me feel this way!" when in all reality, we make ourselves feel "this way".
For example, I feel guilty for things in my life that have happened; things that I have said or done, but that I can not change. I can look past it and try to forget about it...but everything lingers. Is this my fault? Short answer. Yes. It is. I'm not being cruel to myself in saying so. I'm only admitting to the fact that I haven't faced these issues like I should have. No. I can't change the past, nor would I want to. I wouldn't be who I am today without living through what I have.
What I wish I could change is the hurt than has come along with it...not only to myself, but mainly to those who were involved. But I can't do that either. So where does that leave me?
Do I revisit this past in hopes that I can find some sort of conclusion? Or do I accept it for what it is and move on? We only live once. And I am a firm believer in living in the present. However, my brain and heart fail me in constantly going back to past issues. It's not easy, nor do I think it's really possible, to let it all go. Perhaps the point to be made is that it should be remembered, for whatever reason, but not re-lived. Perhaps that's what I need to work on. What we all need to work on. Remembering and accepting because it can't be changed, but not remembering so much that it causes the same pain as it did once before. Or is this feat even possible?
I find it is so much easier to forgive someone else than it is to forgive myself. Perhaps that is what I am truly afraid of. I don't want to keep offering up excuses like "I'm only human" and "we all make mistakes", "No one's perfect." And yet, I am more inclined to accept these excuses from everyone else except for myself. Why is that? Because each of these "excuses" are true. I guess it's just too common for them to be used too often and I don't want to fall into that trap.
And another thing, why is it so much easier to say "I'm sorry" to someone else than it is to say "I'm sorry" to ourselves? In the end, ourselves are who we are responsible for. So, maybe we should start focusing on taking care of ourselves, before taking care of someone else.
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