So I get an e-mail today from Spay and Neuter Syracuse today. They can't Neuter Blockhead AKA "Kane" until July. Which means we are fostering him until July.
Which means walking him, feeding him, training him, trimming nails, socializing, and generally being a dog owner again until well into July.
This wouldn't be such a big deal if I wasn't also trying to get a job, go on vacation, and deal with a worsening back at the same time.
This is just the WORST time to have a dog dropped on me.
I usually would never say something this hateful but whoever ditched this dog, I hope you get hit by a train, bus, truck, or large car and die a slow painful death alone, cold, in a ditch and in the hands of vengeful spiteful gods and later roast over a spit in hell.
This dog has serious problems about worrying people are going to attack me when we are walking. He is super anxious about the house and is constantly thinking people are trying to break in, and whoever had him before encouraged some of his aggressive characteristics because his temperament test showed that he responded aggressively at first to high pitched squeaky voices even when I stopped the voice and told him to sit.
The next day when we tested him with going in the yard and watching a neighbor he lunged at the neighbor and barked showing aggression and wouldn't be corrected.
He shows signs of being Incredibly stubborn, and borderline aggressive. He will need to be with an owner who KNOWS dogs, has owned dogs and knows how to make them work. He needs to work and do things. I think he is the kind of dog that would be a great garage or dump dog. He could be with a person all day and then guard and bark at things all night.
Well. I have 2 weeks to train him and get his urinary infection under control and hopefully find him a family. But I am ruling out small children and anyplace in the city.
Did I also mention I also was handed a baby bird and two newborn kittens last night? We won't even BEGIN to go into that.
KJ
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Blooming Peonies
I love them so much I had one tattooed onto my right bicep.
Indeed. I am even trying to think of a way of incorporating a design of a skull with peonies in the eyes but my friend keeps saying "no marigolds, definitively more you."
I do love marigolds. And Dandelions because they are beautiful but if you try to pick them and put them in a vase they will die, but that their leaves make such a great salad, yet they are considered weeds.
I love birds foot trefoil a roadside ground cover that with bright yellow flowers that just happens to have cyanide in its leaves.
I love things like those which are juxtaposed. On one hand they are delightful to the eye medicinal, fragrant, delicious, or excellent at keeping away a pest on the other hand they are poisonous, die easily, have thorns, spread like disease, or are highly flammable.
That is my kind of flower.
But that is not why I love the peony.
I love the peony because my nana taught me hot to take care of them, watching the ants carefully cleaning the buds of each flower and the bees carefully tending to each bloom until they opened.
Then when they opened we would sneak out late at night and take shears and cut bouquets of peonies for each of our rooms and wash them carefully in the sink and remove the leaves. She would place a small drop of bleach in each vase and then place the peonies in our rooms.
I would come home to a room smelling brightly of peonies.
Then the bad part. One blooms. They all bloom. Then you rush around giving all your neighbors flowers putting peonies in every stinking corner of the house (which I LOVE!) and as soon as it starts it is over and the blooms are gone.
I try to savor the scent, enjoy watching the cats sniffing the air, my nephews stopping to check to see if there are any flowers ready to be picked. I sit in bed at night smelling the sweetly scenting air of my room softly breathing in the scent of the peonies and remembering myself as a little girl doing the same thing in my tiny twin bed.
Indeed. I am even trying to think of a way of incorporating a design of a skull with peonies in the eyes but my friend keeps saying "no marigolds, definitively more you."
I do love marigolds. And Dandelions because they are beautiful but if you try to pick them and put them in a vase they will die, but that their leaves make such a great salad, yet they are considered weeds.
I love birds foot trefoil a roadside ground cover that with bright yellow flowers that just happens to have cyanide in its leaves.
I love things like those which are juxtaposed. On one hand they are delightful to the eye medicinal, fragrant, delicious, or excellent at keeping away a pest on the other hand they are poisonous, die easily, have thorns, spread like disease, or are highly flammable.
That is my kind of flower.
But that is not why I love the peony.
I love the peony because my nana taught me hot to take care of them, watching the ants carefully cleaning the buds of each flower and the bees carefully tending to each bloom until they opened.
Then when they opened we would sneak out late at night and take shears and cut bouquets of peonies for each of our rooms and wash them carefully in the sink and remove the leaves. She would place a small drop of bleach in each vase and then place the peonies in our rooms.
I would come home to a room smelling brightly of peonies.
Then the bad part. One blooms. They all bloom. Then you rush around giving all your neighbors flowers putting peonies in every stinking corner of the house (which I LOVE!) and as soon as it starts it is over and the blooms are gone.
I try to savor the scent, enjoy watching the cats sniffing the air, my nephews stopping to check to see if there are any flowers ready to be picked. I sit in bed at night smelling the sweetly scenting air of my room softly breathing in the scent of the peonies and remembering myself as a little girl doing the same thing in my tiny twin bed.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Scootie Puff Junior, Rises From the Ashes
So it appears that the Angels At the DMV in Albany want to Bish Slap the Taft Road DMV Receptionists.
When I told them about the way she talked to me and what she told me that I needed and then how she refused to give me the paperwork the Albany Angel went BALLISTIC.
Indeed. Miss Peggy from ALBANY said "You need MV 82, an MV 51b that YOU fill out, an MV 51b that Adam fills out, an MV 51, and then a DTF 802, a VIN rubbing, a BILL OF SALE, and an insurance card. If they give you ANY problems you tell them you want the supervisor and that you spoke to the DMV in ALBANY and that I looked at the registration and the model and odometer and that this is indeed the correct paperwork."
YAY!
Now I am off to draft up a Bill of Sale even though Adam is technically "giving it to me" and then I am done!
I am so happy. Soon I am going to be scooting around Syracuse
KJ, the Junior on Scootie Puff JR.
When I told them about the way she talked to me and what she told me that I needed and then how she refused to give me the paperwork the Albany Angel went BALLISTIC.
Indeed. Miss Peggy from ALBANY said "You need MV 82, an MV 51b that YOU fill out, an MV 51b that Adam fills out, an MV 51, and then a DTF 802, a VIN rubbing, a BILL OF SALE, and an insurance card. If they give you ANY problems you tell them you want the supervisor and that you spoke to the DMV in ALBANY and that I looked at the registration and the model and odometer and that this is indeed the correct paperwork."
YAY!
Now I am off to draft up a Bill of Sale even though Adam is technically "giving it to me" and then I am done!
I am so happy. Soon I am going to be scooting around Syracuse
KJ, the Junior on Scootie Puff JR.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Monday, June 02, 2008
A shot to the chin
"I found out that two of my Junior Handlers are struggling with their Mom's
alcoholism. Karen was very accusatory towards her daughter last week and I
interceded and got her calmed down. I picked up the kids this am to go to the Dog
Park and see the babies. When I brought them back, Billie told me that she
knew her Mom had been drinking. Max had picked up on it too. I asked her
outright and she admitted it. She was talking about driving with them and so I took
them with me, after I told her if she had anything else to drink I' d kick her
ass. I called a little later to tell her to sleep it off and she agreed to
that. When I brought them home at 4:00pm she had just woken up. She started in on
Billie again, and I took her out on the deck and sent the kids for a walk
with their dogs. I really read her the riot act and then we all sat down and
wrote up a contract. Thirty days of meetings (with signed attendance for me and
the kids) and a change in meds for Karen. The kids to help out more around the
house ie: if they don't have clean clothes it's their fault-not Mom's. Get off
her case about smoking if she's doingit outside. At least three Alateen
meetings. They have my numbers to call if they need me, and if they can;t get me
they are to call Dad. If they are afraid she might be drinking they have
permission to look for booze and to call me, then I will talk to Karen. I thought
about you and how much I put you and Seth through all day. Maybe I can make a few
more amends with these kids. Love you more than you'll ever know.
~Mom"
I just got this letter from my mom. I thought I had actually gotten tough and past being angry at my mother for this but reading this stuff I actually was so shocked I couldn't talk, almost cried and had shaking hands that wanted to hit things.
All I could think of is, WHY are the kids forced to go to Alateen, why are they forced to sign a contract, why are they forced to accept their mothers smoking and get off their mothers case when SHE is the drunk? And why is a former drunk the advocate for the kids who are the victims?
She wants to make amends to me by making the kids go to meetings to sober up their mom? Doesn't she remember that I refused to go saying point blank that her drinking was not my fault and her endangering my welfare was inexcusable and I wasn't going to go to a meeting to learn how to placate her inability to not take drugs or alcohol when life was hard.
I mean FUCK I was a freaking hurting kids with chronic pain whose doctors thought she was a hypochondriac, with an alcoholic mother who routinely neglected us and drove around with us in a care while drunk. I've seen things that I have never told other people except my best friends and Uncles about only after swearing them to secrecy that made them cry. Now instead of finally trying to become a better person (because being a 50 year old, 500 pound, partially disabled food addict living with your mother is not successful in my mind)she decides she is going to try to make these kids give their mother a break and read her the riot act?
Yeah I can see how that went. A little yelling followed by a WHOLE lot of empathy and sympathy and reading from the Big Book.
I was irritated before last night and NOW I know why I saw this coming, I knew something like this was going to happen. I am so freakin irritated right now. My coworkers are irritating me and I know its because of this e-mail and the scooter and my back but I just can't shake off the irritation.
I just want to go around screaming FUK FUK FUK FUK I AM FLYPAPER FOR MORONS!
But I am trying to find another job so ranting and raging on the front lawn would not bode well for me finding a possible employer.
Quick note, Good thing that I actually took my own advice, A assistant director came in from Peace Incorporated and I talked to her about possible job opportunities and I handed her my resume and she got excited when she saw it (which made me perk up a little bit)
I know I irritated our senior adviser by choking in on her convo and slipping in my resume but ya know what she parrots my advice to people all the time and doesn't listen to people. Turn about is fair play.
KJ
alcoholism. Karen was very accusatory towards her daughter last week and I
interceded and got her calmed down. I picked up the kids this am to go to the Dog
Park and see the babies. When I brought them back, Billie told me that she
knew her Mom had been drinking. Max had picked up on it too. I asked her
outright and she admitted it. She was talking about driving with them and so I took
them with me, after I told her if she had anything else to drink I' d kick her
ass. I called a little later to tell her to sleep it off and she agreed to
that. When I brought them home at 4:00pm she had just woken up. She started in on
Billie again, and I took her out on the deck and sent the kids for a walk
with their dogs. I really read her the riot act and then we all sat down and
wrote up a contract. Thirty days of meetings (with signed attendance for me and
the kids) and a change in meds for Karen. The kids to help out more around the
house ie: if they don't have clean clothes it's their fault-not Mom's. Get off
her case about smoking if she's doingit outside. At least three Alateen
meetings. They have my numbers to call if they need me, and if they can;t get me
they are to call Dad. If they are afraid she might be drinking they have
permission to look for booze and to call me, then I will talk to Karen. I thought
about you and how much I put you and Seth through all day. Maybe I can make a few
more amends with these kids. Love you more than you'll ever know.
~Mom"
I just got this letter from my mom. I thought I had actually gotten tough and past being angry at my mother for this but reading this stuff I actually was so shocked I couldn't talk, almost cried and had shaking hands that wanted to hit things.
All I could think of is, WHY are the kids forced to go to Alateen, why are they forced to sign a contract, why are they forced to accept their mothers smoking and get off their mothers case when SHE is the drunk? And why is a former drunk the advocate for the kids who are the victims?
She wants to make amends to me by making the kids go to meetings to sober up their mom? Doesn't she remember that I refused to go saying point blank that her drinking was not my fault and her endangering my welfare was inexcusable and I wasn't going to go to a meeting to learn how to placate her inability to not take drugs or alcohol when life was hard.
I mean FUCK I was a freaking hurting kids with chronic pain whose doctors thought she was a hypochondriac, with an alcoholic mother who routinely neglected us and drove around with us in a care while drunk. I've seen things that I have never told other people except my best friends and Uncles about only after swearing them to secrecy that made them cry. Now instead of finally trying to become a better person (because being a 50 year old, 500 pound, partially disabled food addict living with your mother is not successful in my mind)she decides she is going to try to make these kids give their mother a break and read her the riot act?
Yeah I can see how that went. A little yelling followed by a WHOLE lot of empathy and sympathy and reading from the Big Book.
I was irritated before last night and NOW I know why I saw this coming, I knew something like this was going to happen. I am so freakin irritated right now. My coworkers are irritating me and I know its because of this e-mail and the scooter and my back but I just can't shake off the irritation.
I just want to go around screaming FUK FUK FUK FUK I AM FLYPAPER FOR MORONS!
But I am trying to find another job so ranting and raging on the front lawn would not bode well for me finding a possible employer.
Quick note, Good thing that I actually took my own advice, A assistant director came in from Peace Incorporated and I talked to her about possible job opportunities and I handed her my resume and she got excited when she saw it (which made me perk up a little bit)
I know I irritated our senior adviser by choking in on her convo and slipping in my resume but ya know what she parrots my advice to people all the time and doesn't listen to people. Turn about is fair play.
KJ
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Ver damned sprigna pooft
Stupid Scootie puff. I cleaned her up, pumped up the tired, tooke her out, drained out the old gas to give to the mower (fuck that mower it doesn't deserve new gas) and filled her with fukkin PREMUIM.
And now the priss won't even turn over for me.
The battery is charged, the tank is full the carb choke and screws are all shiny and clean and she has been run and rested.
WTH!? Now its off to the mechanic for her and no "toot toot here I go a waltzing to Workie" on monday morning on my new scootie puff JR.
son of a republican than sucks.
I called Adam and he said "This is a lesson, you SUCK at waiting for things, first you had to wait to buy it, then you had to wait for plates, then to ride it, and now to ride it to work. This is good you are exercising a lesson in patience"
If I could have I would have reached through the phone and smacked him through the receiver.
I called my friend Andy instead to talk Buddhist with him since I felt like a very very bad Buddhist for the thoughts I was having against Adam. He suggested that I try to think about other things that I should be working on that my scootie puff would soon pull me away from. I thought about my knitting, my reading, my burgeoning back issues, and my poor turtle swimming in his own filth.
So reluctantly I decided to vent once, sweep up my bitch fest and then go get dinner ordered (China night) and get cracking on cleaning my cess pool of a turtle tank.
I'm thinking I want to move him in here so I can watch him swim around, I feel like he get lonely all the way up in the front room all by himself. I like watching him sun himself and raise up his feet in bliss when warm, he is a kewl guy my tommie turtle.
Off to whip together dinner and stretch out my back and try not to shoot looks at my cranky Scootie puff lounging in my garage.
KJ
And now the priss won't even turn over for me.
The battery is charged, the tank is full the carb choke and screws are all shiny and clean and she has been run and rested.
WTH!? Now its off to the mechanic for her and no "toot toot here I go a waltzing to Workie" on monday morning on my new scootie puff JR.
son of a republican than sucks.
I called Adam and he said "This is a lesson, you SUCK at waiting for things, first you had to wait to buy it, then you had to wait for plates, then to ride it, and now to ride it to work. This is good you are exercising a lesson in patience"
If I could have I would have reached through the phone and smacked him through the receiver.
I called my friend Andy instead to talk Buddhist with him since I felt like a very very bad Buddhist for the thoughts I was having against Adam. He suggested that I try to think about other things that I should be working on that my scootie puff would soon pull me away from. I thought about my knitting, my reading, my burgeoning back issues, and my poor turtle swimming in his own filth.
So reluctantly I decided to vent once, sweep up my bitch fest and then go get dinner ordered (China night) and get cracking on cleaning my cess pool of a turtle tank.
I'm thinking I want to move him in here so I can watch him swim around, I feel like he get lonely all the way up in the front room all by himself. I like watching him sun himself and raise up his feet in bliss when warm, he is a kewl guy my tommie turtle.
Off to whip together dinner and stretch out my back and try not to shoot looks at my cranky Scootie puff lounging in my garage.
KJ
Good morning Sunshine!
Yes, I am absolutely ridiculous. I am actually planning on pulling apart after it gets too cold to ride and painting the body and the muffler.
Red and black again of course!
Then I want to save up for an Honda Elite. It will be another Scootie Puff Junior. I will never have a Scootie Puff Senior or Scootie Puff Extreme because of my syrinx...
Still.
I re-watched Kinky Boots today to see if I wanted to show it for one of our Pride Movie nights. It is funny and sassy but I think that I want to show something fun with a stronger message and starring a real trans personality.
I went to "Divine" website the owner of the real "Kinky Boot's" Factory and saw these:
I actually thought, I could get more hurt walking on these than I could riding my Spree.
Crash gave me yet ANOTHER lecture about crashing, and about how I have to stay in WCC neighborhood and stay on side streets and tell people where I am riding too and not ride too far and blah blah blah.
Adam already saif to Crash he is giving me lessons, he said I would get better as I rode more (I'm a LITTLE out of practice)Adam actually said "She needs to ride FARTHER and LONGER Crash not nearer and less."
I thought Crash was going to punch Adam and lock me in a tower.
So Adam and I went outside to work on the scooters and drink Beers until crash went to work.
I know WHY Crash is over protective being that I am sick and fragile but the fact that I already know my life could be shortened makes me want to live harder not more cautiously.
I wish he could see that I will be careful but won't walk around in bubble wrap.
Adam said I should try to let the scooter run today and clean it so I am off to do that as well as trim some more trees down in the back. I am listening to a bummer Ray Charles song...OK Need to switch and chipper up I am a Scooter Girl!
KJ
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Scootie Puff Junior "The Honda Spree"
Its Mine. AL Freaking MINE My Friend Adam bought a Scootie Puff Senior and said "KJ You need to buy a Scooter, I will give you my old scooter that I paid 500 bucks for for 200 because I just want you to have a scooter that will make you smile, you can't be so work crazy and walking or taking the bus everywhere, your a freaking cripple!"
So I looked at it just to look at it, thinking I would probably not buy it. But it was red, and little like me, and a little rusty, and no one was riding it, and it looked so sad...
So I bought it,He signed over the registration and I pick up the plates on Monday.
Today Adam showed me how to clean the carb, choke and screws (why does this sound like I should be writing this on violet blue instead...) And took it for a dirty test drive.
Fucking WHEEEEE!
It tops out at 40 but I was literally screaming "YEE-HAW!"
In my little flame helmet and goggles and my little bucket on the back, suck a dork and do I care? hell no! I loved it!
I can't wait to ride that thing all over the freaking city!
It makes me miss my motorcycle something fierce though. Now I remember, the feel of it sitting rumbling ready to fly down the back country roads, reading the moves and gestures of my body like a mechanical horse.
Watching as the country side whipped by and little kids waved, people sat on porches nodding their hello's. Watching in approval glad that I wasn't one of the harley nutsacks with a loud aftermarket muffler that shook and rattled their tiny farm windows and knocked their tiny china kittens and curios to the kitchen floor.
I remember sitting in trucker bars having a root beer and a grilled cheese in my head to toe kevlar while getting hit on by idiot crotch jocks with their kawasakis ninjas and other weenie torpedoes asking me where my boyfriend was or who I borrowed my bike from.
My Honda Triumph *insert sigh* Then came the day I was diagnosed with Syringomyelia. I remember selling my cousin my motorcycle to drive out to Montana, it made me feel better knowing it would stay in the family, I sold it to him for a dollar. I cried that night on my front porch so Crash wouldn't feel bad about it. It was the day I had to quit the fire department, my job and put my mototcycle for sale, it was the day I stopped fencing, stopped riding and felt myself die a little inside.
It has taken me almost three whole years to start healing and putting myself back together again, this Scooter is one of the bravest things I have gotten to do.
My dad and fiance fought me tooth and nail. I almost backed out a couple times and then something in the back of my head said "everyone gets hurt and everyone dies, but not everyone can say they really LIVED its a scooter for the gods sake!
Shit, I can't have my motorcycle back because Crash (fiance)would flip out, and my doctor says no and my dad has a bad heart and can barely fathom the freakin scooter.
But I can ride a scooter. I get a little thril from the damn thing. I can't ride a stupid bicycle and the thing gets like 80 miles per gallon. Its economical and its FUN. Why the hell WOULDN'T I but it? So I finally said to everyone "Think of it as a really fast gas powered hover round" My dad signed and bought me an emergency jump kit, Crash bought me a helmet and my nephew bought me a sticker that says "tell your kids to stop pointing at me"
It now sits in my garage and I just walked out and patted it goodnight.
I may have to attach a cane slip to the side, I may have to wear a diaper someday soon so I don't wet the seat (the disease is getting worse), hell I may get kinda fat for the thing, and it will never look like a motorcycle, but my nephew said something awesome today he said "Aunt KJ It Looks like a motorcycle, and it goes pretty fast, and it makes you smile really big that makes everybuddy happy doesn't it?"
Well if it doesn't, then maybe it should.
KJ
So I looked at it just to look at it, thinking I would probably not buy it. But it was red, and little like me, and a little rusty, and no one was riding it, and it looked so sad...
So I bought it,He signed over the registration and I pick up the plates on Monday.
Today Adam showed me how to clean the carb, choke and screws (why does this sound like I should be writing this on violet blue instead...) And took it for a dirty test drive.
Fucking WHEEEEE!
It tops out at 40 but I was literally screaming "YEE-HAW!"
In my little flame helmet and goggles and my little bucket on the back, suck a dork and do I care? hell no! I loved it!
I can't wait to ride that thing all over the freaking city!
It makes me miss my motorcycle something fierce though. Now I remember, the feel of it sitting rumbling ready to fly down the back country roads, reading the moves and gestures of my body like a mechanical horse.
Watching as the country side whipped by and little kids waved, people sat on porches nodding their hello's. Watching in approval glad that I wasn't one of the harley nutsacks with a loud aftermarket muffler that shook and rattled their tiny farm windows and knocked their tiny china kittens and curios to the kitchen floor.
I remember sitting in trucker bars having a root beer and a grilled cheese in my head to toe kevlar while getting hit on by idiot crotch jocks with their kawasakis ninjas and other weenie torpedoes asking me where my boyfriend was or who I borrowed my bike from.
My Honda Triumph *insert sigh* Then came the day I was diagnosed with Syringomyelia. I remember selling my cousin my motorcycle to drive out to Montana, it made me feel better knowing it would stay in the family, I sold it to him for a dollar. I cried that night on my front porch so Crash wouldn't feel bad about it. It was the day I had to quit the fire department, my job and put my mototcycle for sale, it was the day I stopped fencing, stopped riding and felt myself die a little inside.
It has taken me almost three whole years to start healing and putting myself back together again, this Scooter is one of the bravest things I have gotten to do.
My dad and fiance fought me tooth and nail. I almost backed out a couple times and then something in the back of my head said "everyone gets hurt and everyone dies, but not everyone can say they really LIVED its a scooter for the gods sake!
Shit, I can't have my motorcycle back because Crash (fiance)would flip out, and my doctor says no and my dad has a bad heart and can barely fathom the freakin scooter.
But I can ride a scooter. I get a little thril from the damn thing. I can't ride a stupid bicycle and the thing gets like 80 miles per gallon. Its economical and its FUN. Why the hell WOULDN'T I but it? So I finally said to everyone "Think of it as a really fast gas powered hover round" My dad signed and bought me an emergency jump kit, Crash bought me a helmet and my nephew bought me a sticker that says "tell your kids to stop pointing at me"
It now sits in my garage and I just walked out and patted it goodnight.
I may have to attach a cane slip to the side, I may have to wear a diaper someday soon so I don't wet the seat (the disease is getting worse), hell I may get kinda fat for the thing, and it will never look like a motorcycle, but my nephew said something awesome today he said "Aunt KJ It Looks like a motorcycle, and it goes pretty fast, and it makes you smile really big that makes everybuddy happy doesn't it?"
Well if it doesn't, then maybe it should.
KJ
Frustration: Incurable epidemic?
Frustration: An Incurable Epidemic?
I have had many painful things physically and emotionally happen to me as have many other anima.
I have tried over my thus short lifetime to overcome challenges caused by pain and inconvenience and tried to be positive and pragmatic.
Calm always even when in extreme pain or crisis.
I thought that perhaps my methods were the best way of maintaining sanity.
I've broken ankles, noses, fingers, cheekbones, vertebrae, kneecaps, femurs, ribs and collarbones. I've even had 4 teeth extracted (molars) without pain medication because I proved to be intolerant to opiates.
In other words they didn't work like they should or didn't work at all.
My doctor remembers a time he gave me laughing gas and I looked him straight in the yes and said "I don't think this is working" he was shocked that I could still speak and used an IV to knock me out instead.
The introduction of Tramadol was a life saver for me because it finally allowed me to funtion through pain and just a little bit worked enough for me to manage the pain on my own.
But the one thing that continues to haunt me and make me want to go on a killing spree, destroy things or light fire to buildings is other people people hypochondriacs and whining about things when if they just put a little effort into mind body control, even just control, they would make me less frustrated with their incessant whining.
Currently a toothache had a grown man writhing around on my couch saying he wants to die because he ate ice cream and it made him tooth hurt.
I've broken ankles and competed through pain with only my breath and he is whining about a tooth ache.
It makes me so incredibly frustrated that I want to drive out into the night to a hotel, go swimming, take some benadryl and sleep until I wake up not hearing him mewing and crying next to me.
Even babies only cry when they need something not to comfort themselves. They breath, play, suck things and rock themselves but don't mew like kittens without wet nurses.
I think my frustration makes me cold and heartless but I cannot grasp the idea that someone could get themselves so worked up over a toothache when the best and quickest maintenance is calm, deep breathing and visualization. I've said it before and I will say it again if pregnant woman can give birth a man can survive a toothache without punching drawers and refrigerators.
I have had many painful things physically and emotionally happen to me as have many other anima.
I have tried over my thus short lifetime to overcome challenges caused by pain and inconvenience and tried to be positive and pragmatic.
Calm always even when in extreme pain or crisis.
I thought that perhaps my methods were the best way of maintaining sanity.
I've broken ankles, noses, fingers, cheekbones, vertebrae, kneecaps, femurs, ribs and collarbones. I've even had 4 teeth extracted (molars) without pain medication because I proved to be intolerant to opiates.
In other words they didn't work like they should or didn't work at all.
My doctor remembers a time he gave me laughing gas and I looked him straight in the yes and said "I don't think this is working" he was shocked that I could still speak and used an IV to knock me out instead.
The introduction of Tramadol was a life saver for me because it finally allowed me to funtion through pain and just a little bit worked enough for me to manage the pain on my own.
But the one thing that continues to haunt me and make me want to go on a killing spree, destroy things or light fire to buildings is other people people hypochondriacs and whining about things when if they just put a little effort into mind body control, even just control, they would make me less frustrated with their incessant whining.
Currently a toothache had a grown man writhing around on my couch saying he wants to die because he ate ice cream and it made him tooth hurt.
I've broken ankles and competed through pain with only my breath and he is whining about a tooth ache.
It makes me so incredibly frustrated that I want to drive out into the night to a hotel, go swimming, take some benadryl and sleep until I wake up not hearing him mewing and crying next to me.
Even babies only cry when they need something not to comfort themselves. They breath, play, suck things and rock themselves but don't mew like kittens without wet nurses.
I think my frustration makes me cold and heartless but I cannot grasp the idea that someone could get themselves so worked up over a toothache when the best and quickest maintenance is calm, deep breathing and visualization. I've said it before and I will say it again if pregnant woman can give birth a man can survive a toothache without punching drawers and refrigerators.
Ill Communication
Ill Communication
It is strange how words we read can affect everything about us, and more importantly effect the words we write.
I was just reading a friends blog about being a slut. Yes she is a self proclaimed slut, and I call her friend. Another account I read frequently is Confessions of a College call girl.
Both are raw, uninhibited snapshots of how the most important thing we have in our life is those people who make us feel strong, happy and worthy.
Whether that be through sex, food, compassion, fashion, words or patience. One thing reverberates through everything. The world around us is only as interesting as the stories we hear and tell.
I think this is the only reason I am so passionate about being vegan, Buddhist, and an activist my friends and colleagues whose advice and comfort I so often seek is meaningful to me.
Truthfully I see a bit in them that I want to emulate if only for my own selfish devices.
More importantly they make me feel like I am here in this world with a point, and a goal that they can understand.
I guess my point in all of this blather is to look closely at those people you keep nearest to you and make sure they are right. Like a very wise women told me Friends are like diamonds you need fabulous Clarity, cut and finally Character.
It is strange how words we read can affect everything about us, and more importantly effect the words we write.
I was just reading a friends blog about being a slut. Yes she is a self proclaimed slut, and I call her friend. Another account I read frequently is Confessions of a College call girl.
Both are raw, uninhibited snapshots of how the most important thing we have in our life is those people who make us feel strong, happy and worthy.
Whether that be through sex, food, compassion, fashion, words or patience. One thing reverberates through everything. The world around us is only as interesting as the stories we hear and tell.
I think this is the only reason I am so passionate about being vegan, Buddhist, and an activist my friends and colleagues whose advice and comfort I so often seek is meaningful to me.
Truthfully I see a bit in them that I want to emulate if only for my own selfish devices.
More importantly they make me feel like I am here in this world with a point, and a goal that they can understand.
I guess my point in all of this blather is to look closely at those people you keep nearest to you and make sure they are right. Like a very wise women told me Friends are like diamonds you need fabulous Clarity, cut and finally Character.
A brother says goodbye
Micheal Gerald Manlove
Saying Goodbye To Mike
When I was born I imagine that one of the first faces I looked at was the 13 month-old face of Mike Manlove. I can guess what he was thinking…what’s this all about?...I wonder if this could be fun? I went on to spend my boyhood with Mike. I probably spent more time with Mike Manlove than any other person in my life due to the fact that we were together almost continuously until I was about 18 years old.
When Mike died last week we came to Ely, MN. I walked out to Mike’s death site with his son Joe, Johnny and Bert. I had a chance to be with Mike’s body. I held his hand, hugged him, felt his strong chest against mine and put my face right next to his. I said sharply “Mike”. I spoke to him, I tried to get him to quit playing possum, waited for him to start laughing, put my ear close enough to his mouth so that he could give me a Wet Willy. Nothing happened and I knew the spirit of the baby that looked into my face 52 years ago was gone.
Two nights after mike died I had a dream. In the dream I knew that I was supposed to go into an old farmhouse. I went to the front door, but it was locked. I went around to the back. I walked up the steps and opened a screen door. I entered the kitchen, which was at the back of the farmhouse. There were two people sitting at a table in the kitchen. They were dressed casually and drinking coffee. They were looking at the newspaper and visiting quietly. Across the kitchen there was a glass partition between the kitchen and the rest of the house. I walked over and looked through the glass partition. On the other side of the glass there was a party going on. There were people standing, talking to each other, drinking and eating food. My brother Mike was in the middle of the party. He was smiling, laughing, talking with people and giving hugs. I turned to the people at the table and asked if I could go in and be part of the party. One of the people at the table casually turned to me and stated “it’s a different time and a different place”. (Somehow I felt that wherever Mike was he was being welcomed). I woke up feeling good that Mike was happy.
So who was Mike?
Mike was authentic and unpretentious most of the time. Mike loved to dress up. He loved to look at himself in the mirror when he was dressed up and he thought he really looked good. He got a real kick out of looking good. But Mike never lost site of who he was, a simple, straight forward guy in jeans or khakis and a t-shirt or work shirt. The clothes were only there to support the task or to play with.
(Walks down to the casket) In honor of Mike’s straight forward, humble nature I am going to take off my suit coat. Anybody in the audience is welcome to take off their suit also. (Takes off suit jacket and sets it on the casket). Now, I’m going to take off my tie (takes off tie and lays it on the casket) and I’m also going to take off my shirt. (Takes off shirt and lays it on the casket). (Underneath shirt is a First Responder’s t-shirt). (Walks back up to the podium).
Mike never hurt anyone. Mike and I had physical battles from childhood onward. In fact until about 10 years ago whenever we got together one of us would challenge the other to a wrestling match to see who could “take” who. Mike was an outstanding wrestler and a fighter. He was one of the better wrestlers in the state of Minnesota when he was in high school. He was much better than me. He was also often furious at me for things that I had done to make him mad. Despite that he was careful to never hurt me in the process. He always stopped short. Even when he was angry he wasn’t a person who hurt anyone. I don’t recall Mike ever intentionally hurting anyone in his life.
There are other things about Mike: Intensity comes to mind, the need to explore his limits, playfulness, a guy who lived for fun.
Mike found his place in and around the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. He found a woman, Becky, who could fully accept his huge heart. He spent his time doing what he loved and what was important to him. He loved natural, wild places and had an immediate connection with them.
Mike loved his family intensely and he loved everyone else just as intensely. Like most lovers, Mike learned how to love from his family but like other true lovers, once he learned how to love he gave his love to everyone around him (what a tribute to his parents and Becky). Mike had a physical, sensuous way of sharing his love. I can see him walking into my house and I imagine many of you can also. He would strut in, in his khaki pants and with his boots on and his work shirt, come right up to you and give you a big hug, rub his head on your neck and often give you a Wet Willy. He would do this with everyone in the house if he had the chance. Mike wouldn’t have wanted to have a funeral without having all of you have the opportunity to hug everyone you want to so at this point I would like you to give anyone you would like to in this room a Mike Manlove hug. Rub your head against their neck. Give a Wet Willy if you want to. We don’t need to have a dry ear in this building. (The congregation hugs).
Mike, like all men, had anger and aggression. They come with testosterone. All men are born with the capacity to be angry, violent and aggressive. One measure of a man is how they come to manage these feelings. They are honed from childhood by relationships with family, friends, and others. Mike and I shared that honing process. Aggression, violence and anger can be destructive, to be sure. But, they can also be a source of energy for good. Lovers, like Mike, are angry when people are hurt and when there is injustice. They may be frustrated by other things, but anger is saved for the things that really matter. They try to have a positive affect on things that matter. By that measure, Mike was quite a man.
I’m not sure what religion Mike really was. Most of us take parts of a variety of religions and synthesize them into our own belief systems.
· Was Mike a Christian? If the basis of Christianity is “love your neighbor as yourself”, he was a Christian.
· Was Mike a Buddhist? If that means did Mike engage in each moment of life fully whether it was happy or painful, Mike was a Buddhist.
· Was Mike a Pantheist? There is no question that Mike saw God in nature.
· Was Mike engaged in American Indian Religion? Look at the picture of ancient Indian art in Mike and Becky’s house and remember the way Mike paddled through the Boundary Waters and cared for the Boundary Waters and you know that Mike shared the spiritual beliefs of American Indians.
Monday at 5:30am my wife, Peggy, and I set out to get some exercise. The sun was coming up. The sky was beautiful. Suddenly we heard a low flying goose honking like crazy. It came over our canyon and the meadow we were walking through. You need to understand that there are few geese in the Black Hills, there are fewer still in areas without a pond or lake. Somehow I felt Mike’s presence. What was Mike’s message?
· Maybe, it was just to let me know that he was ok.
· Maybe, it was a reminder that all life, like the wild goose, is fragile and that we need to love and care for it.
· Maybe, those were angry honks saying, though he had to go, he still wanted to be with us.
· Maybe, those were the excited honks of a goose looking for its mate.
· Maybe, it was a celebration of ongoing life.
I don’t know, but I do know, that when I am with Joe, Celin, or Becky; when I am with all the people that Mike touched; when I see a goose, a hawk, a moose or an elk; when I’m skiing through a soft snowfall, I will feel Mike’s presence. For that I am happy.
Thank you for being here.
Love, Steve
Saying Goodbye To Mike
When I was born I imagine that one of the first faces I looked at was the 13 month-old face of Mike Manlove. I can guess what he was thinking…what’s this all about?...I wonder if this could be fun? I went on to spend my boyhood with Mike. I probably spent more time with Mike Manlove than any other person in my life due to the fact that we were together almost continuously until I was about 18 years old.
When Mike died last week we came to Ely, MN. I walked out to Mike’s death site with his son Joe, Johnny and Bert. I had a chance to be with Mike’s body. I held his hand, hugged him, felt his strong chest against mine and put my face right next to his. I said sharply “Mike”. I spoke to him, I tried to get him to quit playing possum, waited for him to start laughing, put my ear close enough to his mouth so that he could give me a Wet Willy. Nothing happened and I knew the spirit of the baby that looked into my face 52 years ago was gone.
Two nights after mike died I had a dream. In the dream I knew that I was supposed to go into an old farmhouse. I went to the front door, but it was locked. I went around to the back. I walked up the steps and opened a screen door. I entered the kitchen, which was at the back of the farmhouse. There were two people sitting at a table in the kitchen. They were dressed casually and drinking coffee. They were looking at the newspaper and visiting quietly. Across the kitchen there was a glass partition between the kitchen and the rest of the house. I walked over and looked through the glass partition. On the other side of the glass there was a party going on. There were people standing, talking to each other, drinking and eating food. My brother Mike was in the middle of the party. He was smiling, laughing, talking with people and giving hugs. I turned to the people at the table and asked if I could go in and be part of the party. One of the people at the table casually turned to me and stated “it’s a different time and a different place”. (Somehow I felt that wherever Mike was he was being welcomed). I woke up feeling good that Mike was happy.
So who was Mike?
Mike was authentic and unpretentious most of the time. Mike loved to dress up. He loved to look at himself in the mirror when he was dressed up and he thought he really looked good. He got a real kick out of looking good. But Mike never lost site of who he was, a simple, straight forward guy in jeans or khakis and a t-shirt or work shirt. The clothes were only there to support the task or to play with.
(Walks down to the casket) In honor of Mike’s straight forward, humble nature I am going to take off my suit coat. Anybody in the audience is welcome to take off their suit also. (Takes off suit jacket and sets it on the casket). Now, I’m going to take off my tie (takes off tie and lays it on the casket) and I’m also going to take off my shirt. (Takes off shirt and lays it on the casket). (Underneath shirt is a First Responder’s t-shirt). (Walks back up to the podium).
Mike never hurt anyone. Mike and I had physical battles from childhood onward. In fact until about 10 years ago whenever we got together one of us would challenge the other to a wrestling match to see who could “take” who. Mike was an outstanding wrestler and a fighter. He was one of the better wrestlers in the state of Minnesota when he was in high school. He was much better than me. He was also often furious at me for things that I had done to make him mad. Despite that he was careful to never hurt me in the process. He always stopped short. Even when he was angry he wasn’t a person who hurt anyone. I don’t recall Mike ever intentionally hurting anyone in his life.
There are other things about Mike: Intensity comes to mind, the need to explore his limits, playfulness, a guy who lived for fun.
Mike found his place in and around the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. He found a woman, Becky, who could fully accept his huge heart. He spent his time doing what he loved and what was important to him. He loved natural, wild places and had an immediate connection with them.
Mike loved his family intensely and he loved everyone else just as intensely. Like most lovers, Mike learned how to love from his family but like other true lovers, once he learned how to love he gave his love to everyone around him (what a tribute to his parents and Becky). Mike had a physical, sensuous way of sharing his love. I can see him walking into my house and I imagine many of you can also. He would strut in, in his khaki pants and with his boots on and his work shirt, come right up to you and give you a big hug, rub his head on your neck and often give you a Wet Willy. He would do this with everyone in the house if he had the chance. Mike wouldn’t have wanted to have a funeral without having all of you have the opportunity to hug everyone you want to so at this point I would like you to give anyone you would like to in this room a Mike Manlove hug. Rub your head against their neck. Give a Wet Willy if you want to. We don’t need to have a dry ear in this building. (The congregation hugs).
Mike, like all men, had anger and aggression. They come with testosterone. All men are born with the capacity to be angry, violent and aggressive. One measure of a man is how they come to manage these feelings. They are honed from childhood by relationships with family, friends, and others. Mike and I shared that honing process. Aggression, violence and anger can be destructive, to be sure. But, they can also be a source of energy for good. Lovers, like Mike, are angry when people are hurt and when there is injustice. They may be frustrated by other things, but anger is saved for the things that really matter. They try to have a positive affect on things that matter. By that measure, Mike was quite a man.
I’m not sure what religion Mike really was. Most of us take parts of a variety of religions and synthesize them into our own belief systems.
· Was Mike a Christian? If the basis of Christianity is “love your neighbor as yourself”, he was a Christian.
· Was Mike a Buddhist? If that means did Mike engage in each moment of life fully whether it was happy or painful, Mike was a Buddhist.
· Was Mike a Pantheist? There is no question that Mike saw God in nature.
· Was Mike engaged in American Indian Religion? Look at the picture of ancient Indian art in Mike and Becky’s house and remember the way Mike paddled through the Boundary Waters and cared for the Boundary Waters and you know that Mike shared the spiritual beliefs of American Indians.
Monday at 5:30am my wife, Peggy, and I set out to get some exercise. The sun was coming up. The sky was beautiful. Suddenly we heard a low flying goose honking like crazy. It came over our canyon and the meadow we were walking through. You need to understand that there are few geese in the Black Hills, there are fewer still in areas without a pond or lake. Somehow I felt Mike’s presence. What was Mike’s message?
· Maybe, it was just to let me know that he was ok.
· Maybe, it was a reminder that all life, like the wild goose, is fragile and that we need to love and care for it.
· Maybe, those were angry honks saying, though he had to go, he still wanted to be with us.
· Maybe, those were the excited honks of a goose looking for its mate.
· Maybe, it was a celebration of ongoing life.
I don’t know, but I do know, that when I am with Joe, Celin, or Becky; when I am with all the people that Mike touched; when I see a goose, a hawk, a moose or an elk; when I’m skiing through a soft snowfall, I will feel Mike’s presence. For that I am happy.
Thank you for being here.
Love, Steve
Uncle Mike
Its been almost a year. And I still think about you every time I work in my yard or talk about the woods.
Michael Gerlad Manlove-Rest in Peace
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye
I will miss your hugs and the scent of woods on your skin.
Whenever the wind combs through my hair
I will think of you and know you are there.
~KJ
Michael Gerlad Manlove-Rest in Peace
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye
I will miss your hugs and the scent of woods on your skin.
Whenever the wind combs through my hair
I will think of you and know you are there.
~KJ
Totally not Vegan
This is an Oldy but I am sending it out because I am retiring an old blog
We are STREAMLINING PEOPLE!
KJ
We are STREAMLINING PEOPLE!
KJ
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Billdini the Great
Hey everybuddy!
How is everyone?
I finished my double shift and passed out. I actually have a funny story to share with you guys about my huge cat.
his name is Bill. My fiance Crash taught his to manipulate the doorknobs in out house to let himself in to each room.
But he now knows how to let himself out the front door and back door down to the basement and on to the front porch.
Which wasn't so bad until I kept waking up to the front door open, my sister apartment open and all seven cats in her apartment sparring.
OR in the basement.
:evil:
Then I woke up to all of them in my front stair well.
THEN I woke up to them on my front porch. Billy on my roof, preparing to jumpy from my roof to my NEIGHBORS roof in order to try to kill a pigeon.
Crash had to leap onto to roof and grab Billy (all 20 pounds of him) mid jump and wrestle him into the house.
That evening we went to Big K and bought Door Knob Covers To Cat Proof the house so he can no longer open the doors.
He was upset but we also bought him a cat fountain and a kitty hammock so I think we have appeased the beast.
Oh jes, I are so Sexy!!!
Billdini the amazing escape artist has been forced into retirement by his mama.
KJ
How is everyone?
I finished my double shift and passed out. I actually have a funny story to share with you guys about my huge cat.
his name is Bill. My fiance Crash taught his to manipulate the doorknobs in out house to let himself in to each room.
But he now knows how to let himself out the front door and back door down to the basement and on to the front porch.
Which wasn't so bad until I kept waking up to the front door open, my sister apartment open and all seven cats in her apartment sparring.
OR in the basement.
:evil:
Then I woke up to all of them in my front stair well.
THEN I woke up to them on my front porch. Billy on my roof, preparing to jumpy from my roof to my NEIGHBORS roof in order to try to kill a pigeon.
Crash had to leap onto to roof and grab Billy (all 20 pounds of him) mid jump and wrestle him into the house.
That evening we went to Big K and bought Door Knob Covers To Cat Proof the house so he can no longer open the doors.
He was upset but we also bought him a cat fountain and a kitty hammock so I think we have appeased the beast.
Oh jes, I are so Sexy!!!
Billdini the amazing escape artist has been forced into retirement by his mama.
KJ
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Jayne recovers
So after Jayne got a massive infection she has to eat gruel which was baby food mixed with rice milk and so she had to wear a bib to keep it from getting all over her chest...
I didn't realize we had her wearing the pirate bandanna until I went to wash it.
I had to giver her pain killers and this was her getting a 10 minute reconnection with her apparently fascinatingly enormous paws.
Now she is fully recovered from all this nonsense and is reclaimed her mama (me) and her duties (alarm clock) and jobs (screamapiller and town crier)
And likes to keep us on our toes by only being silent when the food bowls are actually empty causing us to search for her frantically and find this:
We need to trust the other cats. THey know a young punk when they see one.
We have been skooled.
KJ
I didn't realize we had her wearing the pirate bandanna until I went to wash it.
I had to giver her pain killers and this was her getting a 10 minute reconnection with her apparently fascinatingly enormous paws.
Now she is fully recovered from all this nonsense and is reclaimed her mama (me) and her duties (alarm clock) and jobs (screamapiller and town crier)
And likes to keep us on our toes by only being silent when the food bowls are actually empty causing us to search for her frantically and find this:
We need to trust the other cats. THey know a young punk when they see one.
We have been skooled.
KJ
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Best Dog face EVER!
At some point in my life I am going to have to have a dog that looks like an ewok.
I saw this and started squealing with delight.
I need one!
Its sad that a dog that is so ugly its cute would bring me to histrionics's.
Still, one day it will be mine...
KJ
I saw this and started squealing with delight.
I need one!
Its sad that a dog that is so ugly its cute would bring me to histrionics's.
Still, one day it will be mine...
KJ
Friday, May 16, 2008
Set it and forget it?
The job search is still going. And going and going. But it seems that I am almost on a path of set it and forget it. I send out resume after resume and feeler after feeler and nothing appears to be coming back.
It is starting to feel a bit on the hopeless side of things.
I am starting to try to ride my bike to work twice a week and it makes me so tired that I literally have to stop twice on the way home and end up falling asleep right when I get home, waking up to eat, then going right back to sleep.
This tumor is taking its tole on me. It may not be the fastest means of transportation but walking may be my main means of conveyance by means of practicality and safety.
I would be into looking for a moped though.
I think I may actually ask my mother for one for me for an alternative to getting a car or re-learning to use a skateboard. (the doctor vetoed the skateboard) It would be a definite plus if it ran on diesel.
We shall see!
KJ
It is starting to feel a bit on the hopeless side of things.
I am starting to try to ride my bike to work twice a week and it makes me so tired that I literally have to stop twice on the way home and end up falling asleep right when I get home, waking up to eat, then going right back to sleep.
This tumor is taking its tole on me. It may not be the fastest means of transportation but walking may be my main means of conveyance by means of practicality and safety.
I would be into looking for a moped though.
I think I may actually ask my mother for one for me for an alternative to getting a car or re-learning to use a skateboard. (the doctor vetoed the skateboard) It would be a definite plus if it ran on diesel.
We shall see!
KJ
Thursday, May 15, 2008
The core four
I read on my favorite blog Four Four that there are usually four key blogs that one reads every day if one has time.
For me core four means four agencies or causes that you try to stick to as those that you really try to keep to the top of your list.
Recently I was being interviewed by a small zine for an animal right issue asking how people could be more proactive about going beyond spaying and neutering pets to help reduce cruelty to animals.
I covered the whole vegetarian schpeal, the domestic violence and violence to animals connection, the exotic pet trade, puppy mills and everything I could thing of from Jack Hannah to Zoo's.
Then he asked me to name four key places I spend a majority of my time supporting and I named them and he joked "You must not have any pets of your own!"
Actually I do, a turtle, 4 cats, a fish tank, and a fiance. It made me think. How is it that my family is not the top of my core four? With all the crap in the world they should be the top of the core four and they aren't.
At least one thing happened that surprised me and made me happy. My nephew was listening to the interview and said "We can fix that Aunt KJ I will help you and then It will be Family AND helping animals so you can do both at once and I can pet kitties."
No one said the core four was without a root system?
KJ
For me core four means four agencies or causes that you try to stick to as those that you really try to keep to the top of your list.
Recently I was being interviewed by a small zine for an animal right issue asking how people could be more proactive about going beyond spaying and neutering pets to help reduce cruelty to animals.
I covered the whole vegetarian schpeal, the domestic violence and violence to animals connection, the exotic pet trade, puppy mills and everything I could thing of from Jack Hannah to Zoo's.
Then he asked me to name four key places I spend a majority of my time supporting and I named them and he joked "You must not have any pets of your own!"
Actually I do, a turtle, 4 cats, a fish tank, and a fiance. It made me think. How is it that my family is not the top of my core four? With all the crap in the world they should be the top of the core four and they aren't.
At least one thing happened that surprised me and made me happy. My nephew was listening to the interview and said "We can fix that Aunt KJ I will help you and then It will be Family AND helping animals so you can do both at once and I can pet kitties."
No one said the core four was without a root system?
KJ
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Enrage Retardent
Can you sympathize when there are times when so much stuff is happening that is beyond rage inducing, beyond justified homicide, beyond rationalized beating?
Times when the body just goes numb, and calm and maybe just a little bit detached and says "Huh, *shakes head in disbelief* it really CAN get worse!"
Then you suddenly feel a lot better, and a lot more selfish and less deserving to have a roof over your head, legs to walk on, and food to eat.
So I have been trying to work my butt off at work to prove that I deserve this job (or in fact ANY job) building up my resume, puffing up my portfolio, working on my writing skills.
Thus far I may have actually scored an interview/gig with an online magazine with a dog training thingy. Which would be killer.
My Uncle who is an psychologist actually gave me an assignment to think about the things that I do well that come naturally that people always compliment me on.
So I have been sitting here thinking about it. Honestly it is always difficult to do after I take my Topamax because it is hard to think of words with that stupid drugs.
So I am going to cheat and ask my friends what I am good at and do it the fast and loose way.
I am such a cheap bass turd.
KJ
Times when the body just goes numb, and calm and maybe just a little bit detached and says "Huh, *shakes head in disbelief* it really CAN get worse!"
Then you suddenly feel a lot better, and a lot more selfish and less deserving to have a roof over your head, legs to walk on, and food to eat.
So I have been trying to work my butt off at work to prove that I deserve this job (or in fact ANY job) building up my resume, puffing up my portfolio, working on my writing skills.
Thus far I may have actually scored an interview/gig with an online magazine with a dog training thingy. Which would be killer.
My Uncle who is an psychologist actually gave me an assignment to think about the things that I do well that come naturally that people always compliment me on.
So I have been sitting here thinking about it. Honestly it is always difficult to do after I take my Topamax because it is hard to think of words with that stupid drugs.
So I am going to cheat and ask my friends what I am good at and do it the fast and loose way.
I am such a cheap bass turd.
KJ
Thursday, May 01, 2008
I'm a bad knitter
I have a Clapotis that I has been hibernating so long I can't even remember what row I am on.
I also have a pregnant friend who is days within delivering her baby and I need to make her a pair or booties! Do you think I have made her any pairs?
nope.
Not ONE pair.
I don't know WHY I suddenly fell off the knitting wagon. I got really really sick for a while, then I just stopped and then I just never started again. maybe if I just picked up my Clapotis and made myself start again? Maybe with a movie I have seen a thousand times or doing it outside? There just seems so much other stuff I have to do!
I need to rake my backyard, I need to weed my back garden, I need to mow, I need to plant, I need to clean litter pans, clean the turtle tank, work on a Humane Education Manual, and shower and get to bed before 10:30 or else I am worthless.
It seems like it should take that long but with meetings almost every night, making dinner, and having to help my sister with the boys it is ofter midnight before I am in bed.
its only 2:00 now and I am exhausted and have to walk home and will probably fall asleep right after I get home.
Summer does this. It makes me Lethargic and completely wasted.
I also have a pregnant friend who is days within delivering her baby and I need to make her a pair or booties! Do you think I have made her any pairs?
nope.
Not ONE pair.
I don't know WHY I suddenly fell off the knitting wagon. I got really really sick for a while, then I just stopped and then I just never started again. maybe if I just picked up my Clapotis and made myself start again? Maybe with a movie I have seen a thousand times or doing it outside? There just seems so much other stuff I have to do!
I need to rake my backyard, I need to weed my back garden, I need to mow, I need to plant, I need to clean litter pans, clean the turtle tank, work on a Humane Education Manual, and shower and get to bed before 10:30 or else I am worthless.
It seems like it should take that long but with meetings almost every night, making dinner, and having to help my sister with the boys it is ofter midnight before I am in bed.
its only 2:00 now and I am exhausted and have to walk home and will probably fall asleep right after I get home.
Summer does this. It makes me Lethargic and completely wasted.
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