where's the love?

Alright, it's obviously been a long time-- I accept that. But, honestly, it's hard to blog all the time when NO ONE SHOWS ANY LOVE! Come on people, I'm not your circus chimp. You can't work me and beat me with the chains and never toss a cookie my way. Pavlov would disapprove of this training method. Clearly it doesn't derive results.

Now more importantly, I'm back in Pennsylvania. My life feels like an incredibly slow tornado. Sometimes I sit around and do nothing, then other times I feel like I'm getting more action than a toilet seat at a mexican restaurant. Sometimes I'm unaware that I have plans until I'm told. Many times I've forgotten plans until someone calls on their way to pick me up. Or sometimes people just "book" me and decide what I'm doing for me. All of these things are fine, but they've made the last few weeks that I've been home feel like a trippy dream. I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED WORKING YET! There was Christmas, then New Year's, now I need to get a physical. I had tons of dog sweaters and a few hats that had to be made and sent out. It's a slow cyclone, I tell you, and it's dragging me along at a slow speed but it's kicking up so much debris in my face that I can't function properly.

Tomorrow I go for my physical, then I'll FINALLY start work on Thursday. The dogs smell like ASS and desperately need a bath, but my mom is all "but the tub has a fiberglass covering that they'll scratch with their nails." Well their ass has a smell that is burning and cauterizing the nerve endings in my nostrils. But, because I STILL HAVEN'T STARTED WORK YET, I don't have any money to go somewhere to bathe them. It's madness.

I'm living in the basement of my parent's house also. There are so many things to say about that, none of which would be cohesive or comprehensible right now. I don't hate it. I don't love it. It just is. When I get back from South Africa I'll start working a real job (hopefully the social work position in Philly-- fingers crossed) so I can start saving for a house. And paying off student loans. Oh... student loans... like a wet blanket draped over me at all times. And it's not wet from water; no, it's kerosene. And someday fate, or the mafia, or the cashier lady at the supermarket, is going to fall asleep on the couch and drop a lit cigarette onto me and WHOOSH-- up in flames I'll go.

On a bright note, I have seen many friends and had a ton of fun since I've been home. I miss my friends in Oklahoma dearly, but I feel certain that I've made true friends there who won't disappear because of a mere 1500 miles. Also, South Africa is rapidly approaching and I am excited beyond words. I ordered a few books to read before I go, and am looking into renting a few movies. Due to the slow cyclone of my life I haven't been researching as much as my nerdy conscience tells me I should be doing, so there's a nagging guilt that has been plaguing me. But things are finally leveling out, so I'm able to fulfill my need to fully cannibalize any and all material I can about the culture.

So, now I bid you adieu. And if you're still stalking, errr... I mean following, me-- LET ME KNOW! No one says anything until I STOP writing on here. I mean, come on people, I gottsta WORK... I gottsta DANCE to feed my baby!

WHENEVER

This is a rant I've been meaning to empty from my head for a long time now.

I'm sure more people do it than just Oklahoman's, but I've only noticed it here. They certainly don't do it back in Pennsylvania-- nowhere I've been anyway. So here is the offense: they say "whenever" at a time that they mean "when". For example:

"Whenever I was three..."

"Whenever I got home today..."

"Whenever I went in the room he was sitting on the bed..."

In SOME cases the last two could work, if it was really WHENEVER they did this action. If EVERY TIME they got home something happened, or EVERY TIME they entered their bedroom he was sitting on the bed, then it would make sense. But this isn't the case. Oh no. They really just mean to say that WHEN they got home, and WHEN they went into the room. Once. One time deal. When implies a single event and should be used in the appropriate way. It drives me BATSHIT CRAZY when people gratuitously use "whenever". YOU WEREN'T THREE MORE THAN ONCE!

I also dislike it when on signs the letters and/or numbers are upside down. Especially, but not limited to: 3, 8, S and B.

relationships

I'm terrible at them. Wait, actually that's a lie. I'm excellent at MOST relationships. Romantic relationships are another story. I guess it's more that I don't know if I'm BAD at them, persay, it's more that I don't understand what the big deal is. What is the difference, the line that is drawn where you say "Ah ha! THIS is why I'm in a romantic relationship rather than a friendship!"

I'm sure it's some shortcoming of my own that I can't make this distinction. Sure, some would jump to the obvious physicality of the differing relationships, but can that REALLY be the only difference? Then why do I love my friends differently than my family? Why would I love my boyfriend more or less or equal to any of those people? Plus, what about if you don't DO the physical things? Then are you in a relationship? A friendship? My own issues with physical closeness are mine alone, I accept that until I receive some sort of counseling I'll continue to have those issues, but I don't think that those problems alone can make or break having a committed relationship--can they?

Yesterday I was watching the show about the Morman family of soon to be 18 people, the Duggars. Seriously, get over the no-birth-control rule, it's getting ridiculous. They raise their children well, and the only reason I have an issue with it is that I don't think your older kids should have to watch your younger ones. They have lives they should be living. Anyway-- that's not the point, at all. So, in their religion, which they live strictly by, they aren't supposed to even kiss before marriage. The parents on the show did kiss before marriage, but the oldest son who is now engaged has not yet kissed his fiance, and both want to wait until their wedding day for the "special kiss". So, what is it that makes them a couple? HOW are they more of a couple than friends? Or is that all a couple is; good friends?

I went to a talk on the physiology of love while I was in college, and more or less there is a chemical reaction that triggers the feelings of lust, then love, within two people. I get why people start dating. Those endorphins are powerful little suckers, and they create the euphoric 'love' feeling. Then, supposedly, the love emotion does kind of fade out as the hormones are lessened, but you essentially make the subconscious decision to stay in love or not. But to me I think, now that you KNOW you took the pill, can you still feel that emotion?

I'm not saying that I don't or can't feel love, we're not going down that melodramatic route. I just can't understand how it really happens. I have had happy and long relationships in my past, but they don't last. I guess most will say "then you haven't met the right one yet". But how can you be sure? How do you know you weren't supposed to just CHOOSE to be happy with one that has already gone by? I mean, I COULD spend the rest of my life with someone, but how do you know you SHOULD?

Everytime I consider this conundrum I talk myself in circles, and it always seems to come back to the physicality of the relationship, even though I don't think that should be the case. Maybe it's because I don't live in a Mormon society and you won't find many-- maybe any-- guys who are willing to wait you out and understand your hesitancy. One has, does that mean I should spend the rest of my life with him? It's probably more on me than it is on the guys, actually. I think I feel more guilty because I understand that men show their affection through intimacy, and women through words. It makes me feel like I'm not fulfilling what a relationship should be in their eyes. Maybe the situation can be solved easily if I put all of this on the table the minute a few dates starts looking like a could-be-relationship situation.

We'll see.

cleaning out the closet

I was going through my thumb drive that contained most of my documents from my last semester of college. That was the semester I took creative writing with professor Kerry Sherrin Wright. She is nerdy to the point that it's graceful, and has a quirkiness that compels you to stay in her presence as long as possible (for the hope that she might say something unfathomably profound, or she'd trip on the carpet-- sometimes both). She was the kind of professor that changes your life in the same way a tiny pebble dropped into a pond changes the water. In my creative writing folder in my old thumb drive, I found several gems that I enjoyed reading and reflecting on.

I'll share one of the poems now, although I'm rather annoyed that I can't get the formatting to stay as it was in the original version. There should be some spacing and line breaks that you will not get the full effect of in this version, but I can't find a way to fix that. If anyone has any idea, feel free to fill me in.

September 24, 2007

The Girl

"You're mediocre, you know that?"

He's still yelling- then it really begins.
like a vacant nest during winter's first snow, emptiness
stares at me from the eyes of the mirror.
too tired to lift his hand again- or perhaps convinced of a hopeless cause
I am free to go.

bedroom door opens
a flood-gate of tears.
the first rain for a flower
that long ago withered
I throw a small glass bottle across the room
against the wall- it shatters.

the familiar, safe body sinks down next to me,
closes the door- keeping the family secret safe
inside the closet with us.
my brother pulls me close and I rest
my head on his shoulder.
His t-shirt becomes wet against my face.
He doesn't mind.
He sits holding me- strong, still
Silent.

supporting the hopelessness that consumes me.
validity evaporating
like breath into a bitter night
my resentment is not echoed
in his hollow gaze.
this closet- a tomb
for significance.

in the aftermath I learned to seek his comfort
in the aftermath I realized that it would never be enough.

Shih Tzu

Alright, so my roommate has a Shih-Tzu, for those of you who don't know what this is, I'll link a picture for your visual enjoyment.

My roommate's Shih-Tzu weighs around 12lbs. I know cats that weigh more than that. Sarah calls him something funny- Skippy? I can't remember- but that's the kind of dog it is, one whose name you don't even bother to commit to memory because it's never going to do anything worthwhile. This isn't the point. The point is-- WHAT are they bred for? What is their purpose for LIVING? As any good nerd would, I researched to find out, and do you know what I came up with? Nothing. Yep, this dog is as useful as a bag of hair. In fact, their reason for being was succinctly summed up as, "Today this breed is very popular, both as a companion and a glamorous show dog." Glamorous. Seriously? What do people THINK when they buy one of these dogs? Unless I was the recent recipient of a lobotomy, there's just no way. It's very similar to smoking cigarettes, I suppose, the warning is right there on the label, but you don't heed the advice of the SURGEON GENERAL.

To be fair, tiny dog behaves rather well around guests and the like. My dogs, on the other hand, act like it's the first time they've seen other life forms and go into a frenzy of tails and tongues. Tiny dog gets just as excited, but seriously, he weighs 12 pounds, what can he actually do? Oh wait, we covered that already, nothing. Plus, my dogs are actually DOGS-- and not the glamorous kind. It seems to me that some people get rather smug when tiny dog is all cute, and glamorous, just curling up on someones lap, and my dogs are behaving like-- SHOCK, GASP-- DOGS! Both of my dogs, however, are in advanced obedience. They will both be trained as search and rescue dogs, and on top of that Zulu will be trained as a Canine Good Citizen so we can make hospital and nursing home visits and bring a little cheer to people in need. They have jobs, their breeds have purpose. Both thrive on learning new things.

But, never fear, my dogs have given this jobless, purse-accessory a purpose in life: their personal squeak toy.

from the mouths of babes

From the archived files in my mind comes this following conversation:

[in an italian restaurant between Alora, 4, and Benny, 41]

Alora: Do you have a baby in your belly?

Benny: No.

Alora: Then you're fat.

Benny: Yes, yes I am.

man pee

Okay, what is it with men's urine that makes it smell like THAT. You know what I mean, that sort of acidic/sour smell. If it were a perfume it'd be Parish Hilton: The Morning After. What happens within the male body that causes such a rancid odor to emit from their PEE? Having to spray air freshener after a man does number 1 is just ridiculous. Any medical consult on this issues is appreciated.