Italian Speaking Mode: ON

I don't know if it really IS because he's Italian and the stereotypes hold true or whether it's because he's an animated person naturally, or maybe because the stereotypes exist and it just happened, but My Puppy Guts speaks with his hands. He talks with his hands and arms, ESPECIALLY when he's trying to put emphasis on certain things or when he's way too super excited about something. Some people are very animated like that. Then there are others who are more sound oriented and make sound effects for stuff. You know, "PEW PEW!!!", "NEEEEEEEERUM!", "KABOOM!", "AAAAAARGH!!!!" Everything has a sound attached to it.

I guess I'm a little bit of both, although I am much more of a visual person than an auditory one. Some people just need to hear it and they get it. Some people need to see it. I need to see it and TOUCH it. Even if it's just with a finger tip for a nano second. I feel inclined to touch things. Even if it's a thought, I feel sometimes that there is a tangible element to a thought I'm trying to grasp and relate to another person. It's sort of hard to explain.

There are all sorts of different ways that people express themselves. Some are completely and fully animated and are overwhelming. Then there are those who are the complete opposite and it kind of makes me want to poke them with a stick or something while they're talking, just to get a reaction out of them. Then there's My dearest Puppy Guts. And like I said, I don't know whether it's because he is an Italian and the stereotypes just hold true or whether it's just the way he is, but I know that the conversation went full on Italian when the Italian speaking mode gets turned on.

NO faith in humanity: The origins......

It's not that I am completely embittered and have absolutely no faith in mankind. I have come across and met some insanely spectacular people. I mean, proportionately, they are only a small percentage of the dime a dozen pieces of crap that I normally come across, but whatever. That's life.

My parents, are the type of people that have shown me what I definitely DON'T want to be or become. They are petty, bitter, cruel and really know how to drive the goodness out of things and people. They are the very epitome of how I don't want to treat my children,  how I don't want them to treat those around them, how I don't want to treat people I call my friends, how I don't think anyone should be treating anyone at all. They are the type of people who put on the happy facades of "the perfect family" and really, if people were to actually see what happened behind closed doors, they'd realize how crappy these people really were too.

I've come to find my dwindling faith in humanity come from these roots because I see more of this same behavior beyond the walls of my parents' dwelling area, in other people. There are so many people who are like this. Not a genuine bone in their bodies. It's easy for me to recognize because I grew up with it and now I can see it anywhere. And a good portion of the time, if you look carefully enough, you can see the flicker of  the facade fade long enough to see what behind it. It's rather sad. Petty people caught up in their own petty bullshit, creating their own worlds of drama over petty little shit. Going on and complaining about the world around them, yet doing absolutely nothing to help make things better or make things right. Bitching about the behaviors of others, all while overlooking their own flaws and their own shitty behaviors. Always pointing fingers and quick to judge and blame others, but unable to fix the shit in their own lives. It's pretty easy to spot.

:sigh: People are sinking further and further down the rabbit hole and like Nero, many fiddle. Some days I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad just to bite the bullet and joint the ranks and become one of those I hold with the utmost disgust. It's such an easy existence. No one to care about but myself. I get to build a pretty facade for the rest of the world to see and I can fit in with all the rest of the fake-y fakertons and go on about a fake life and pretend that all the world is well and happy and great and people are lovely and make fake friends and blah, blah, blah..... But then I realized how hard I fought to escape from it because of how much I hated being one of them. How much I hated myself for becoming one of them. I look upon the faces of my children and know that it's not what I want for them. And then my decision is made so much easier. My faith in people may be diminished, but I know that as long as I keep to what I believe and raise my children in that belief, I'd have done my part and given the ultimate FUCK YOU to my parents for NOT being able to turn me into what I hate most about them.

What was I watching?

I don't watch a whole hell of a lot of television. Mostly reruns on TNT or some shit like that. Nothing special. I also catch episodes of Spongebob or Bubble Guppies or whatever happens to be on the TV during the kids' TV time too. Ask me about anything beyond that and I am afraid I am going to be at quite a loss. And it's not that I'm really particularly paying THAT close attention to what I'm watching either. It might just be that it's background noise to go along with whatever else I'm doing. Focusing on one thing at a time has never been a forte of mine. Then, every once in a while, something on the TV will catch my attention. Some story plot that has me on the edge of my seat for whatever reason and then...... It goes to commercial. Typical. So then I'm left sitting there like, "OH MY FUCK??!?!?!? What's going on???? What the fuck happens?!?!?!?! GAAAAAAAH!!!!!" and I'll go into the kitchen and grab a drink or something to eat, or both..... I'll sit back down and forget what the fuck I was watching. I'll start flipping channels because the commercials are still on, forget that I was waiting for the commercial to end to get back to what it was that I forgot I was watching, see something and get sucked into something else on a different channel, remember what I was watching before, go back to the other channel to discover that A.) it's gone to commercial again, B.) The show's over anyway and I missed everything and C.) I've forgotten what the other show I got into was or what channel it was on and I get doubly fucked.

It just doesn't pay to watch television. It just never works out well for me.

Naps....

It's not often that I can take time to take a nap, but every once in a very long while, I get the opportunity and you bet I'm gonna take it. It's just that moment when I do wake up, which is more like a spaz moment where I practically jump bolt upright, completely addled and confused, thinking I need to be somewhere, or be doing something for one of the kids or whatever or that I slept for far too long, much longer than I should have, despite the fact that I had two alarms set to wake me in an hour. That "GAAAAAH!!!!!!" moment where don't know where you are or what day it is or anything.... It makes you even MORE tired then you were when you went to sleep and makes having taken the nap a complete waste of time... Awesome.

WAY too quiet......

It's never a good thing when the kids are TOO quiet, when being left to their own devices to play by themselves. When the voices die down to whispers and hand gestures, you can kind of guess that the kids are going to be up to no good. That's when things like flushing action figures down the toilet for a "scuba recon mission" happens. Kid catapults with a half inflated air mattress, launching a baby sister five feet into the air and six feet across the room happen. "We forgot to put the lid on the blender" fruit smoothies happen. The diet soda and Mentos experiment happens..... in the kitchen. Ditto the vinegar with green food coloring in it and baking soda experiment. ::sigh:: Never a good thing when they're too quiet..... ESPECIALLY when an extended silence gets  followed up with an "Oops..... Um...... Mom?"

SHUT UP STUPID BIRDS!!!!!!

I've had the same family of birds living in the same damn bush for quite a while now. And EVERY morning, without fail, they sing and tweet and make all their little birdie noises. And EVERY morning I wake to that, my eye twitching, forehead vein throbbing..... I thought about blasting a few rounds of birdshot right into the stupid bush and hope I get them. Or getting a cat and sending him outdoors to dispatch them or something..... But then I start to feel bad and I give up. So I continue to listen to those stupid birds at some stupid awful hour every stupid morning. :s

Happy Birthday to Me! 2013

Here it is! It's my birthday. I turn 40 today. Four decades old.... How weird is that? I'm still about as immature as I ever was and I don't feel any different.... I really thought I would, but I don't. I imagined there would be some magical shift or some "FLABAMMO! You're all grown up now!" moment, but it hasn't happened. Wait.... Nope. Just gas. Never mind.

I thought I'd feel older and wiser and grown up and stuff too. That I'd know all the answers and it would be this super spiritual experience or something, but honestly? I've got nothin'. It's a day like any other. Nothing is different. It's just another day.

When I was little, I thought about who I would be at forty, what my life would be like, what I'd be doing, all sorts of stuff like that. Well, I think little me would have been a little disappointed in 40 year old me if little me saw that I wasn't living in a palace, ruling the entire universe because scientists discovered that the universe DID revolve around me and only me. I don't have a magical rainbow unicorn or a horde of mutant penguins as the minions to do my bidding. There aren't the endless buffets of dessert foods being served all the time nor is there a vault full of all the money in the world that I alone controlled and kept.

I did, however, get the prince of my dreams and my happily ever after is coming, presently..... But realizing that my happiness isn't going to be handed to me. I had to go out and GET IT and work for it. It's not handed to you like in the princess movies and stuff. You can't expect to get all the things you want by sitting around and wishing that it'll happen and have it handed to you by some metrosexual sissy, self absorbed prince with everything who gets his nails done and his hair coiffed and wouldn't know what life is like outside his own comfort zone and shit like that. Nope. I WORKED to get where I am. It's not ideal yet, but that time will come too. So I guess I AM able to tell little me, "It's not all bad, kiddo! I promise!" It's a "Stand up and go do it!" world.

Happy birthday to me! I can't wait to see what the next 40 years are gonna bring!

Almost 40.....

On the eve of my 40th birthday, I look back at how far I've come. I thought I'd feel different or something, but I feel like I'm the same goofy doofus that I've always been. I'm still a spaz (something that I thought I might "grow out of", but kind of didn't. AT ALL......),  I still have my attentional issues and O.C.D. (something my parents PRAYED I'd "grow out of", but kind of didn't. AT ALL........... ), I still cuss like a sailor and act like an immature pain in the ass. Sure, I have responsibilities and they're met like a CHAMP, but still......

 I used to think that 40 was some magical number that would miraculously turn me into a super mature, super grown up, super suave, super sophisticated adult..... I'm SO glad that was not the case though! Phew! Back to business.

I'll keep my "immaturity", thank you.

I've been called a lot of things. One of which is "immature". Yeah..... I can see that. Am I like this all the time? No. I manage to tighten shit up when it needs to be and I can act like a big girl when I have to, but honestly? I don't like the idea of not having fun and not laughing and taking everything in my life so seriously. I mean, yeah, I take the things that NEED to be taken seriously, seriously, but beyond that? I don't think I could be a stuffy, fuddy duddy like that. The thought of that scares me actually..... I find that to be rather frightening. I've SEEN these people and I pity them. I'd never want to be such a pitiable creature such as they..... Nope. I like who I am. Thanks for your concern. Not really, but thanks anyway. I've got this.

Not even close to the weekend......

There are just some weeks that I wish would hurry up and end so that we can get to the weekend already.... It's not like I wish for time to go faster. I mean, I thought that way a few times in my life.... Like the end of my pregnancies for one. Or like when I'm looking SUPER forward to some event or something. Otherwise, not so much. Then I have those weeks where it just seems to last forever. It just goes on and on and on and on...... With no end in sight. And nothing, I mean NOTHING can ruin a weekend like realizing that it's only Tuesday and the alarm is going off and I realize that I have to haul my carcass out of bed and get on with the weekday routine. Ugh...... Fuck Tuesdays!

Ignore phone call mode: ENGAGED.....

The great thing about having a cell phone for my home and everything number is that I can always see who's calling and because I have just about everyone labelled in my phone under the contacts, it makes it so much easier to determine whether I'm going to ignore said phone call or not. I've tried to set ring tones according to whether I'm gonna answer, not answer or look to see who it is and think about answering it. My bestie has his own exclusive ring tone, my Puppy Guts has his own exclusive ring tone and done. They're all ring tones that I can live with and not be annoyed by when I hear them and now that I've finally learned what all the ring tones are (I've only had the phone for, like, ten months..... and I still don't know what all the buttons and functions are....) the system works. I know when and when not to answer the phone. Perfect!

Mini Vacations......

It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my children, but there are just certain times when I can get out to the market all by myself and it almost feels like a mini vacation. Browsing the aisles without saying things like, "Don't touch that!" or "No, we can't have marshmallows for dinner!" or "Get back here right now and stop touching everything!" or "So help me BACON, you better get your ass back over here!" Just being able to get all the things on the list and be done, at my own pace. Wandering around and seeing some of the other moms who brought their children and hearing them saying the same things to their kids that I do when I have mine. Yeah....

I don't get these moments TOO often, but when I do, it's kind of great I guess.

Happiness....

There's the happiness that you can share with a loved one, the happiness you can share with friends, happiness that you can share with family, the happiness you can share with everyone, but there are certain little happies that are yours and yours alone. It mostly has to do with things that only you yourself can understand. Maybe it's an accomplishment of sorts or a happy secret that you have that only you know about. It's a feeling that is only tangible to the individual and yet it is such a powerful feeling, isn't it?  People can see you smiling and the happiness shows, but the feeling itself is something that is yours and yours alone. I kind of like that feeling. Something that's mine. All mine. It's a pretty neat-o kind of feeling. :) YAY HAPPY!

My Puppy Guts....

It is so cool to have the man of my dreams, especially when I didn't know all the things I wanted in a man until I actually had it. It's impossible to explain, but I am heavily influenced by my own reasoning and emotions, which affect what kind of day I'm going to have and there are times when I can be unpredictable as fuck. Then, I have my A.D.D. moments, I have my O.C.D. moments and I also have my moments when the two collide and do battle with one another. I never had anyone who took the time to try and understand my swings, which it turns out, is kind of important to me. My Puppy Guts is someone who probably understands and "gets me" better than anyone else I've ever come across and it's a rather novel thing to have someone actually try and understand my quirks and weirdness instead of trying to change them, which turns out to be something that's rather important to me too.

And it turns out too, that all these things, combined with quite a few many other things that Puppy Guts does for me and is for me are a huge factor in <ehem> "other aspects" in our lives and makes things spectacular because I'm not worrying so much about the things I'm not for him. It just becomes a moment when we are enjoying each other and the moment that we are having together.... Moments that we like to have often and as much as possible. All the time. And that's really cool. Turns out, I'm not a dispassionate, cold fish after all. Go figure! I just needed to find "the perfect man" for me.

Tell Granny how to work the computer!

I don't have the patience to try and teach my parents how to use their computer any more, so I recruited my children to do it. My parents are a lot nicer to them and actually try to listen when my kids are telling them what to do, whereas, when I try, I'm an idiot. My kids know their way around a computer well enough that they are able to help my parents out with whatever they need to accomplish and I don't have to deal with the verbal abuse and the frustrations that come with having to teach them AGAIN, how to do something on their stupid computer.

As technology keeps shuffling forward, my parents have come to realize that they need to try and keep up with the times. I guess that's a good thing..... Except when they don't know how to do something. Then it becomes something of a drama that I really want nothing to do with. It's crazy....

Well, one day, the crotchety old fart couldn't figure something out on his computer. I was unavailable for IMMEDIATE help, RIGHT THE FUCK THEN. Thank FUCK for that. My son went to go see what the hell was up. Bing, bang, boom! Problem solved. Then, bless his heart, he had the patience to sit and explain (about 47 times) the process of what he did and how to do the thing that my pop wanted his computer to do. Hurray! No skin off my back, no gray hairs for me, no frustration and no start of some bloody war in the office. Awesome!

I wish this would have happened sooner.

My cravings for junk food.....

This picture sums it all up really..... I love me my KFC, but I also love me my McD's too.... (Not a big fan of Burger King....) So the hankering hits and the epic battle begins. Which one do I choose? Do I go to McDonald's or do I go to KFC..... It's just so difficult to decide sometimes.... They're on the opposite side of town from one another and I really don't feel like driving to get both, but if I were feeling that motivated, which one do I go to first? Which is going to drive me less crazy when I have to smell the yummy deliciousness in the car as I drive across town to the other place.... Decisions, decisions, decisions.... I go through the debate in my head and I try to force myself to make a choice between one or the other... If there was an Arby's nearby, Arby's would win hands down, no doubt, but I'd REALLY have to drive out of my way for Arby's. Sometimes I will, but for the most part, I don't. So.... McD's or KFC....... Then, I'll even get my kids involved.... (Yes, I feed them this crap from time to time.... No I don't feel bad about it. Don't judge me...) And one will say, "PIZZA!"

Then my decision becomes even harder..... DANG IT!!!!!!

To the Haters.....

I love the self important people who feel as if though they need to enrich your life with their bullshit ideas about life and how you should be living it because they seem to know so much about yours.... Then, when you tell them to shove it up their asses, they get offended..... Really?

I've come to the conclusion that for all the "shaping" of my life that others had supposedly "done for me", it really didn't work out well for me. It was someone else's idea of what my life should have been and if I could go back in time to punch some of these people in the face, INCLUDING MYSELF FOR LISTENING TO ALL THAT SHIT, I totally would. Sometimes, I get rather angry with myself for not having seen it sooner. It just seems like I had wasted so much of my time, so much of my life. But upon some reflecting, it kind of comes together.

I'm a rather stubborn individual. Yeah.... It's true. I know. You find it very difficult to believe. Shut up. If I had gone along and traipsed through the way I now see "as it should have been", I don't think I would be quite as appreciative of the things I have now. As harsh as some of the lessons I had to learn to get to this point in my life, I came to shape the person that I became and now am. I don't think that it would have been quite so if those steps along that path HADN'T been taken.

I've let go of quite a lot in order to keep moving forward and the more I let go of the negative shit, the more clarity I get in the life I want for myself and how to go about getting it. And of course, realizing that the people I thought had such an impact on my life really didn't, kind of brings a sense of peace as I keep plowing forward.

Justice, Simply.....

Wouldn't it be great if we had so called "lawlessness" again, and go back to a time when if your honor was questioned or someone wronged you, you could just throw down and beat someone until you felt better? Then we'd have a new class structure where the cowards and pussies can go crawl back under the rocks they were hiding under and those strong enough to fight and win would pave the path forward. Can you imagine the world we could live in? I mean, I am not talking about a complete breakdown in "society" and be totally lacking in structure, but building a world where the brave, the strong and the courageous was leading us forward. Wouldn't that be a hoot.... I mean, if you think about it, it's how our country was originally founded. These days though? Yeah....
Ahh..... Just another pipe dream of mine.....

Don't do it, man.....

I don't  like the idea of people yelling at my kids for silly shit. If they're doing something dangerous or really stupid or, like, they deserve it because they're acting like little assholes, then by all means, yell at them  until they cry home to me. But really?

We had an old crotchety neighbor (less so than my pop though) who yelled at my kids for running across the edge of his lawn in order to get to their friends house a couple of doors down. He came out waving his cane and threatened to cut their legs off and leave their dismembered corpses at the front doorstep of their home. I didn't like it.

In typical mama bear style, I went to confront the old coot about it. He tried to convince me that they deserved to be yelled at because they ran across his yard. I called bullshit on that one and told the old git that if he ever threatens my children like that again, he will come to regret it. Well, maybe it didn't come out like that. There may have been a "fuck" or twelve heavily peppered in there and I think I mentioned his cane and where I would stick it. Sideways. It was kind of sad witnessing him whither. He apologized to my children for threatening them and my kids promised not to run across his yard any more. So far, so good.

MINE!!!!!!

Sharing is a concept that is unheard of for some children. It is foreign and it is bad. What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine. If I want it, that's mine too. It's all mine. But that can't be the case for people who have more than one child. EVERYTHING has to be shared. The CONCEPT works, but the reality? Not so much.

My kids have certain things that are theirs and theirs alone. It's a significant item and it's NOT a sharable thing. Don't get me wrong here. It's not as if they DON'T have things that are considered "just theirs".

 But then there's everything else.  The fodder for occasional sibling spats, whining and temper tantrums. The "community toys".

I really don't get how there could be a gojillion toys to play with, but if one kid starts playing with something, they all have to play with that one thing. What the fuck is up with that? I mean, it's not all the time that my kids will end up fighting over something, but when it does happen..... I've started taking things away and storing them in the basement until I deem such a time that they can return from the depths of the dungeon of terrors. It's been working AND when the toys do come back upstairs, it's like they're getting them for the first time again. But it starts all over again. The little squabbles about who took what out of whose hand and the "I WAS PLAYING WITH THAT!!!!" and the "THAT'S MINE!!!!" and the whining and bitching and screaming and crying..... Ugh....

I know that there wil come a day when all of this will be nothing more than a subject that they will all laugh about in conversations that start off with, "Hey... Do you remember the time when...." when my kids get older. In the meantime, I get to go play referee YET AGAIN over YET ANOTHER SQUABBLE over a stupid Lego block..... Yay!

I HAD an idea.....

I LOVE when I come up with the very greatest of ideas or come up with something that would be a great blog post....... Until I forget what I was thinking about. Sometimes, they come back to me. Other times, not. Or at least I don't think they do..... Sometimes I'll manage to get out some detail or some tidbit or something about an idea I had to someone and they'd be all "Hey, Mia...... What ever happened to that idea you had..." some time down the road and they would go into some detail about what I had said..... Yeah.... No clue.....

Oops.... Ugh.

I did a random gravity check again..... My face paid the price for it.... Again..... Do I watch where I'm going? Of course. Do I enjoy falling on my face? NO! I am a spaz and I'm a clutz and I fall. Often. On my face.

You would think that in all my years of falling down, I would learn NOT to do it any more, but no. It still happens. Sometimes, it's in some spectacular fashion that makes me think that people are going to stand up holding score cards rating a particular fall a perfect 10. Other times, I just fall. My knees are permanently scarred from the different scrapes from tripping on my own two feet, I'm always sporting a bruise somewhere from banging it on some random object, although I argue that these things jump up out of nowhere and attack me.... Lumps, scrapes, bruises, abrasions, cuts and contusions, they all make up for the pretty "unique" look I sport every day.

Shit Talk.....

Sometimes I get caught up in what people think about me until I realize that I really don't give a shit about their opinions of me anyway, and the incident is quickly forgotten by me. If these people felt ballsy enough to tell me to my face, I think I might have a little shred of respect for them, but in all honesty? I probably wouldn't and they wouldn't do it anyway. It's cowards that do all the shit talk behind my back anyway.

I thought a lot about WHY I would be the subject of trash talk and I really couldn't come up with a feasible explanation. Then, my ponderings took me to a whole new place. I started feeling sorry for my trash talkers..... Let me explain:

It would seem (to me, anyway) that there has to be some kind of excuse to feel the need to talk shit about a person. It  most likely involves jealousy. Most people are rather catty and sad like that. They have such miserable existences, that in order for them to feel better about themselves, they have to find some way to belittle, gossip about or start and let fly rumors about an individual. If you think about it, that is a pretty sad life. Instead of putting in the efforts to better their own lives or do something to be less miserable, they would rather dwell in their own misery as well as create misery for others around them. What the fuck kind of fucked up shit is that? It's sad and pathetic and I suppose the only thing I can do is feel sorry for them.

 I suppose I could get pissed off about being the subject of said belittling, gossip or the plot of a rumor mill, but I would actually have to give a shit about what was being said in order to care about being pissed off, and quite honestly, I haven't the time nor the energy. ::sigh:: So, I guess, it'll continue and I will continue to laugh and see what else gets said about me. I think I'm gonna start writing them down. Some of it is rather amusing and makes me sound ever so much "cooler"or "tabloid worthy" than real life me!

Super Me.....

I don't like the idea of people doing my thinking for me. I have my own way of doing things, my own way of reasoning things out, my own way of thinking, my own way of everything. I HATE when people come to conclusions FOR me and did all the thinking, reasoning and doing BEFORE consulting me. I have my own super magical way of doing things and I like the way I do it. AND if I screw up, I have no one but myself to blame and I can go about doing what I can to correct MY OWN mistakes MY OWN WAY. Too many cooks in the kitchen I call my brain is not a good thing. Get out. If you could step in here, you wouldn't last more than a second anyway. My awesome is just too great for you.

Form vs. Function

My attentional issues leads me to all sorts of really weird ideas, but they also lead me to some of my finest. It would help if I could focus long enough on the good ones to really get them to work. My methods for coming up with ideas and stuff are rather unconventional. I TOTALLY agree with that shit. The way I do things would make some people think I was out of my mind, but the end results will speak for themselves.

It's a rather difficult thing to explain an attentional issue to those who don't have them. To hear, "Why can't you just focus more?" or "It's all just in your head!" is pretty insulting. I mean, if it were that simple, well, baby Jesus tap dancing Christ in a chicken basket! That MUST be the solution! Ass hats....

Some days are worse than others. Sometimes staying on task is just NOT an option. It just doesn't work. The onset? Lack of sleep, too much caffeine, stress, excitement..... The list goes on. It's never any one set thing. It's just how I happened to be wired. And to have to explain that to people can get to be rather tiresome. Especially when its coupled with the, "What the fuck is WRONG with you?" look. There's nothing wrong with me. I mean I suppose I could say the same things about certain people and their personalities, their severe obesity, the way they look, the way they act, their behaviors, their existences..... But I try to keep that on the inside whenever possible.

Coupled with my attentional issues, I also have O.C.D. or obsessive/ compulsive disorder. Sometimes it's one, sometimes it's the other. I'm either an imaginative mad genius or a complete steadfast mission oriented tornado on legs. Fine. No big deal..... But sometimes it's both and they clash. I mean Spartans/ Persians, Hatfield/ McCoy, Heaven vs Hell, biblical beatdown of epic proportions. It is probably the worst feeling in the world. It is an anxiety attack from hell, orchestrated by the devil himself. And the worst part is, it's impossible to escape from yourself just to quiet the noises. And of course, trying to explain it to someone who has never experienced it is a lesson in futility. It's like explaining to a person who was born blind, what the color "red" is.

I wish some people would learn NOT to make light of what people like myself go through during these bouts. Sure. I joke about my attentional issues and I joke about my O.C.D. too. It's what I do. I like to laugh and instead of being a whiny victim, I'd rather joke and make light of things. But there are times when it's not too funny and for people to A.) not understand, B.) make light of the more serious issues, C.) tell me to get over it and D.) it's all in my head, is the biggest load of douchebaggery. But then again, I'd expect that kind of douchebaggery from some people.

My Penmanship.....

My penmanship is something of an atrocity. I can't even read what I write most of the time. It's a cross between chicen scratch and alien shorthand. I mean seriously. Little pictographs and everything. When I DO actually try to write legibly, I guess you can kind of make out the words I was trying to write, but it takes so damn long! And if it's something like an idea that I want to jot down, I'll end up forgetting what I was thinking about if I try. It's easier to try to decipher my gobbledigoop on a scrap piece of paper than trying to remember what I was trying to say anyway.

I guess penmanship is hereditary. My kids have crappy handwriting too. My eldest is a lefty, so he has two strikes against him right there. It's just easier to say, "We have our own fonts..." than to explain the crappy handwriting. Deal with it.

SUPER Lazy.....

I'm allowed a lazy day from time to time. Come back tomorrow. Today, I'm gonna go concentrate on converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. :)

1/3/13 11:15 AM

After a long battle with, well.... old age, our dog Otis passed quietly in my arms yesterday morning at 11:13.

Otis started to fall apart, as any 20+ year old dog might do, right before Christmas. It seemed to me, that because he still had the fight of a hundred dogs left in him at that time (my wishful thinking perhaps), I took him to the vets' office and begged them to fix him so that we could have him for the holidays. I sat on the floor of the vets' office sobbing as I begged our beloved pooch to promise to rally at least through the holidays.

And lo and behold, after medications of all sorts and a series of subcutaneous fluid injections over a series of doctor visits over a few days in a row and all the while, at home, giving him a special diet that had me spoon feeding him 6-10 small meals a day and meds to be given every few hours and some sleepless nights and a whole lot of carpet cleaning every day, Otis made an unbelievable comeback for us for the holidays. Eating, drinking, peeing, pooping, not vomiting everywhere and walking around to where he wanted to go, sometimes even prancing. We were so grateful for the extra time we got with our old man. We received nothing short of a Christmas miracle considering how grave his condition was just a few days prior. And through the week of Christmas to New Years Day, he was almost his old self.

As the days passed during that week, despite the fact that I knew somewhere WAY in the back of my mind that this rally would be short lived, I denied the fact that I would end up having to say goodbye to Otis sooner rather than later. My denial had me thinking that he would still live forever and that we could go on fighting forward like this forever. I know.... It's childish, but I really don't care what you think of it. He was Otis. So, hope beyond hope, wish beyond wish, we continued on, grateful for every day he gave us.

After New Years Day passed, his systems failed completely, almost overnight. He stopped drinking, he stopped walking, he stopped trying, although being a food hound, he did manage to lap up a small bowl of canned food mashed with chicken broth his last morning. A couple of tablespoons, at most. I wanted to see it as progress. He didn't bother getting up, so I spoon fed it to him, but he seemed to appreciate it. Then, he lay his head back down and took a short nap. I thought he might be showing me another rally, but alas, that was not the case. He awoke a short while later, trying desperately to get up yelping in pain and then collapsed. I knew.

He didn't fight me when I wrapped him up in his favorite blanket, although he whined and winced in pain from time to time. He didn't fight me when picked him up off the floor, save for a little yelp to let me know of his discomfort. He didn't fight me when I put him in the car. He didn't fight me when I walked inside the V-E-T 's office. Even though I (for selfish reasons, I know) was taking him in to beg the vet to fix him up again, I knew what he was trying to tell me. He was letting me know that he had no more fight left in him. At this point, after 20+ years on the plantet, I knew that he really didn't owe me any more favors. I did. But, I stayed in that denial place a little longer anyway, hoping that they could help him out again. But I still knew.  I knew that he had lived a spectacularly long life and when all things were said and done, I knew that he had fulfilled his one final promise to me: One last rally through the holidays. He did that in spades.

After a brief conversation with the vet about his absolute certainty that hope was lost (Possible stroke? But, regardless, his systems were shutting down on him hard and fast), I had a long conversation with Otis as I sat with him on my lap on the floor in a private room. My fears, my sadness, my selfish reasons to keep him around had to be put aside and I took a good look at this broken, old, dog wrapped in his favorite fluffy blanket, in my arms as he slept and occasionally whined in pain. I sat on a cold, hard, tile floor with him and I begged him to give me an indication that he might be okay and that he would rally again. I sobbed and kept begging. He looked up at me briefly through his cloudy eyes and he licked my hand with the tip of his tongue just once and fell back to sleep again.  I understood. And then I promised him that I would see him through to his end. My one final promise to him.

His passing was quiet and quick. He didn't fight at all, and all the while, through everything, I held him and assured him, "I gotcha buddy. I'm here.... I love you......" even after he was gone. I'm not really sure how long I sat there on the floor like that with him. I wasn't even aware that the vet and the aide had left the room, but some time later, I was being handed a box of tissues. I continued to sit on the floor, as I rocked him and kept whispering in his ear for a while afterwards. So many secrets I had told him over the years. And a few more I told him then. Always kept safe. And forever would be. The vets didn't seem to mind while I sat there and were very understanding and kind.

My heart is heavy and it feels like I am about to shatter into millions of tiny pieces. I guess that's normal when you lose a very good friend and a very loved family member. I guess that my lala land belief that he's up in "Doggie Heaven" brings me an iota of comfort. He's running and jumping and playing and chasing things, with his body, young and new. He's eating all sorts of nommy things and crayons (I never understood his cravings for crayons....), with a mouthful of clean teeth. He goes when he needs to go and does what he pleases, remembering all of us and how much we love him, and forgetting that in his end, he was an old and tired, mostly deaf, somewhat blind dog with no teeth, a bad back, arthritis everywhere, and was falling apart as his systems continued to shut down. My beliefs are that he knows not pain nor fear nor sadness and only knows that he is happy and loved and has a warm fluffy bed to sleep in and a warm fluffy blanket to sleep under and everywhere is a happy sunshine spot to roll around in before taking a nap in and that his every happiness is right there for him.

My Otis....
I'll miss you terribly, my stinky dog. Know that I'll be thinking of you in that happy place. I love you old man. Goodbye my dear friend. Good dog. Sleep.

Go On.....

It's fun to watch people as they talk to you. The subtle nuances of the way they carry themselves, the slight body language as they speak. The shifts in posture, the tics and facial changes. It's all part and parcel. I love looking into a person's eyes when they talk too. I mean DIRECTLY AT THEM. You can tell a lot about a person when you do. It's especially fun to make some people feel as if you're judging them with every word that comes out of their mouths. I mean, I am, but still. Some people deserve that shit.

People watching is fun. It's fun to read people's energies as you "scan' them and figure them out. You can tell a lot about people if you take the time to actually learn about them. There's some kind of empowerment that comes from being able to understand people sometimes. I mean, don't get me wrong. I DON'T understand people. I really don't understand what motivates them to do some of the things that they do. I don't know whether it's some overinflated sense of ego or some self indulgent need for something or whether it's just some entitlement complex or what all..... Those kind of things I won't understand. But the certain dig you can find about a person's weakness or a soft spot just by watching them. THAT I can understand. And sometimes, it's fun to exploit them. Well, when they are deserving of a particular brand of "NYAAAA!". You know the type.

We, as a species, are a pretty fucked up group. People are weird. I don't like most of them. And the more I see what's going on and the more I come across the true "WINNERS", the more I lose faith in mankind..... ::sigh::

Sometimes, You Don't Have to Yell........

When out in public with your kids, there comes a time when a disciplinary situation arises. What do you do? I mean the first reaction is to try and whither and melt into the closest wall because your child is throwing a tantrum of biblical proportions and everyone is looking at you. The next feeling is of complete rage and wanting to tell your kid to shut the fuck up and calm the fuck down. Is it worth the time, effort and energy? No.

There is something to be said about "the look". You know the one. The one that instills fear and dread. The one that says, "You just WAIT until we get home....... Mwa ha ha ha ha!" After "the look" if you move in real close and do the hissy evil whisper thing and say things like, "You're NEVER going to see your <gaming device or system> again if you keep this up...." or something of the like and really mean it. I mean OWN THAT SHIT. The look on their little faces is PRICELESS!!!!!

Happy New Year 2013

Yup! Here we are! A brandy ass spankin new year. All the hopes and wishes for great things to happen and I suppose the future looks somewhat brighter than it used to. We all meet and greet the new year in a variety of ways. For some it it the "dawning of a new day" kind of thing with all the best hopes and wishes for what lies ahead, and as for others, today is just another day, like any other, and having to remember to write the date correctly.

I guess I'm somewhere in between. I mean, I have changes coming up this year that fills me with a certain excitement/ apprehension that most changes come with, but there is also the ennui of the "every day shit" that will come lumped together with it all too. I'm pretty jazzed about it being a year of change for me though. Despite the fact that I don't like change quite often, I feel like I'm ready and able to greet the ones coming this year with a heightened sense of excitement.

Stay tuned as I start to face them one at a time. This is gonna be a hoot!