Last week was a rough week. Maggie was in pain and very uncomfortable and had been for two full weeks. She finally had an MRI last Thursday which showed a herniated disk in the middle of her back. The vet and I agreed that at this point surgery was the best option for her (which I had known all along was what we'd end up with, but you have to follow the protocol because some dogs do get better using only medication). During this whole ordeal I felt as though I was at the end of my rope (see previous blog post about that). I felt like nothing was going right and that nothing would ever go right again. I was grieving and I didn't know why or what, but it was grieving for sure. And then it dawned on me what it was. More on that in a minute.
Our subconscious holds on to things in amazing ways. Some people say things like "oh, October is always a hard month for me" or "June always seems to be awful for me." I think part of that has to do with the memories that our subconscious holds on to. They are always there, floating under the surface, influencing our emotions even though we may not realize that's what's happening. These subconscious memories color how we see things on certain days or weeks or months and most of the time we never even realize it.
So, the lyrics for today's post come from a song by my favorite artist, Sarah McLachlan. The song is I Will Remember You and the lyrics are:
Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from me when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one
I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Last week marked the ten year anniversary of when Ms. Ex and I got together. A full decade ago we were feeling those wonderful and rosy feelings of new love (or infatuation/lust as the case may be). And though I am soooo over her and can't imagine why or how we stayed together for so long, I was grieving the end of our relationship last week. I'm sure the emotions wouldn't have been nearly as strong or overwhelming if the timing had been different. If Maggie had gotten sick a few weeks earlier or a few weeks later. If my hormones weren't all out of whack because it was that time of the month and I am a woman and lately, the hormone induced mood/emotional swings have been quite an interesting ride for me (again I am reminded that I do need to blog about the song quoting incident of 2008).
I saw Ms. Ex on Friday night. I hadn't seen or really talked to her since January or early February. I'd had an episode of being over nice on Friday morning and invited her to come see Maggie. We'd been in touch via e-mail since I first took Maggie to the vet. I thought Ms. Ex should know that there was something going on since I would want to know if our situations were reversed and there was something going on with our other dog, the one who lives with her now. I think I had an inkling that Maggie would have surgery in the very near future and that really tipped the scales toward offering for Ms. Ex to visit Maggie.
Ms. Ex has not changed one iota which does not surprise me in the least and was actually good for me to see. While I have no desire to get back together with her, after all I think I was probably miserable and very depressed for at least half of our relationship, you just never know what you're going to feel when you see an old flame again. And what I felt on Friday was absolutely nothing or maybe more appropriately I felt relief. Relief that I did not have to deal with her status seeking car obsessed self anymore. Relief that she was someone else's problem now. Relief that even though the break up was horrific for me because of the way it all happened it was still the best thing that could have happened to me at that point in my life.
And during the breakup and it's aftermath I had forgotten the fun that Ms. Ex and I had together in the beginning. I'd forgotten how we could make each other laugh. I'd forgotten what good friends we were. I am not in any way shape or form ready to be BFF's again, but maybe down the road she can be someone I call up (or more likely e-mail or text since I have a phone issue) and have coffee or dinner with one night just to catch up. That's a big maybe though, not a definitely. Time will tell. The most important thing for me right now is getting Maggie well.
And here's today's random observation, why did it take a HUGE event at work (involving large donors) to get the burned out lightbulbs in the ladies room changed? I cannot believe how BRIGHT it is in there now. We'd been peeing in the dark for so long I'd kind of gotten used to it....
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sweet Magnolia Blossom
I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but I thought I should post some photos of Maggie. She's so very cute if I do say so myself. Here she is sleeping on my pillow. She sees nothing wrong with this. Apparently the rest of the bed was not comfortable enough for her....
To see more photos follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31684429@N05/
To see more photos follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31684429@N05/
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I have no title to put here so just make one up okay? Thanks.
I've been really down lately. The kind of down where you're at your wits end, kind of hanging on to your normalcy by one tiny thread that's getting pretty slippery from the snot and tears. As my friend Crazy Aunt Purl (okay, so we're not really friends and she doesn't know me from Adam, but she has a fantastic blog and if she lived in Connecticut we would totally hang out and talk about our cats and knitting and how you keep putting one foot in front of the other day after day. Go check out her blog when you've got a minute, she's awesome: http://www.crazyauntpurl.com/), anyway where was I? Oh yeah, as my buddy C.A.P. would say I've felt like I was thisclose to directing traffic in my nightgown with my bra on my head talking into a Pepsi can. Except I don't wear night gowns. And I don't really like soda.
Why do I feel so down you ask? My poor little Maggie beagle still cannot walk on her own. She can't hold her back end up at all. She's so unhappy and uncomfortable and that breaks my heart. I cry every time I hear her whimpering in pain when I lift her to carry her outside to pee which is often since the prednisone makes her thirsty. I cry harder when she screams at me in pain when I lift her to take her outside to pee. She pants and won't settle down because she's in a lot of discomfort. I don't know what else to do for her. I can't fix it, can't make it better and I'm falling apart because of it. Everything in my life feels like it's a mess right now. I haven't vacuumed in oh, probably a month. My kitchen is a complete disaster which is not like me. You can gauge my mental/emotional well being by how clean my kitchen is. On a scale of one to it's time to send the nice men in white coats to come take me on "vacation" I am probably at a seven if you're judging by my kitchen. I haven't changed my sheets or towels in an embarrassingly long time. My bathroom, we just shouldn't even talk about my bathroom. I like to think that my shower is a "mood shower" and that the pink film is just a reflection of it's mood and not the water mold that it really is. There is cat fur and dog fur and my hair and oh my god the leaves! all over my floors. And I just don't care. All I can bring myself to do when I'm at home is sit on my couch and surf the net or watch tv or movies.
Todays lyrics are from the late, great Roy Orbison. The song is appropriately titled Crying.
You, you couldn't tell
that I'd been crying over you
crying over you
This song is appropriate for me on so many levels. But first let's go back to the dog and the crying. Yes, I cry over my infirm dog. And mostly I cry in my car so my dog does not see me crying. That's right, I hide my crying from my dog so she doesn't feel bad or maybe so I don't make her feel worse. Is this normal? I tend to think not. I mean really, I get in my car after work and the first thing I do after I pull out of my parking spot is start crying. The tears come on and off until I pull into my garage. Then I wipe them away and put on my happy face and go inside. To my dog. I put on my happy face for a dog. I even use my happy "isn't life so great and happy and exciting!" voice when I talk to her. I can't tell if it helps her at all, I think I do it more for me than her. Like if I can fake the happy with her then everything will be alright.
And by everything I mean EVERYTHING. Not just that she'll get better. Because she will and I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. She's a young and otherwise healthy dog and by god she will get well because I NEED her. She got me through the worst time of my life. The only reason I was able to drag myself out of bed last winter was because I had to take care of her. My cats could take care of themselves. They have their litter boxes and their food is out all the time so they were good to go. They would have let me stay in bed with the covers over my head for days, until their bowls needed to be refilled or their boxes needed to be scooped.
But Maggie needed to be let outside. She needed to be fed twice a day. She needed to be walked and given attention and loved. She is what saved me 10 months ago. This tiny silly little girl was my reason for getting out of bed in the morning when I could barely remember how to put one foot in front of the other. She helped me more than I can ever repay her for so now it is my turn to help her. And it's killing me that I can't just fix it for her. Killing me that she's been in pain and uncomfortable for so long now. It is simply heartbreaking.
Also by everything I mean that I will somehow soon be able to just f'ing let go of the past and move the hell on. As I sit here on my couch in my pajamas (which, hi, are really not flattering, how many different shades of gray can one person wear at a time? It's a damn good thing that I don't get visitors who just pop in to say hi) with tears rolling quietly down my cheeks (so my dog doesn't hear me crying, I am maybe not quite as sane as I used to be) not having eaten any dinner and unlikely to make anything for dinner I want only one thing. I want to know she cares. Okay maybe I want two things. I want to know she cares about me like I care about her and I want a hug, from her. And I am not a hugger. At all. I avoid the hug if at all possible especially if I don't know you well. I do miss that feeling of coming home when her arms were around me though. I miss the comfort of knowing she was there. I miss her. I could list all the things I miss about her, but I'm sure you'd fall asleep well before I got to the end of it.
So, the song lyrics fit for this aspect of my life too. Because I am crying over her. She of the five months of happiness. She who got under my skin when all I was looking for was to figure out the whole dating thing, to get back on the horse. She who showed me what it felt like to be treated the right way in a relationship. I am crying over her. Grieving for what could have been, should have been but she was too afraid to allow it to be.
I don't believe in Hollywood love. I don't believe that anyone rides happily off into the sunset. Relationships are give and take and they do take work to make them last. I don't believe that I need to be "completed" by another person (hello Jerry Maguire did you hear that? you do not complete me, only I can complete me). I do believe however that humans are pack animals and that all of us need that special person in our lives, especially when we're down. And when that special person doesn't exist we often turn to our pets for comfort. But when the down times coincide with the time that your pet is ill it kind of feels like a double wallop.
And so I cry in my car so my dog doesn't see me crying. I swallow my tears as she's screaming in my ear in pain as I gently lift her and carry her outside to do her business. I swallow my tears when she's panting in discomfort and nothing I do eases her pain. Because I know that once I start crying I won't stop. The floodgates open and I become a dripping mess who wants to curl up in a ball in the corner and stay like that forever. And I can't do that. Maggie needs me and I need her to get better because I need her too.
Why do I feel so down you ask? My poor little Maggie beagle still cannot walk on her own. She can't hold her back end up at all. She's so unhappy and uncomfortable and that breaks my heart. I cry every time I hear her whimpering in pain when I lift her to carry her outside to pee which is often since the prednisone makes her thirsty. I cry harder when she screams at me in pain when I lift her to take her outside to pee. She pants and won't settle down because she's in a lot of discomfort. I don't know what else to do for her. I can't fix it, can't make it better and I'm falling apart because of it. Everything in my life feels like it's a mess right now. I haven't vacuumed in oh, probably a month. My kitchen is a complete disaster which is not like me. You can gauge my mental/emotional well being by how clean my kitchen is. On a scale of one to it's time to send the nice men in white coats to come take me on "vacation" I am probably at a seven if you're judging by my kitchen. I haven't changed my sheets or towels in an embarrassingly long time. My bathroom, we just shouldn't even talk about my bathroom. I like to think that my shower is a "mood shower" and that the pink film is just a reflection of it's mood and not the water mold that it really is. There is cat fur and dog fur and my hair and oh my god the leaves! all over my floors. And I just don't care. All I can bring myself to do when I'm at home is sit on my couch and surf the net or watch tv or movies.
Todays lyrics are from the late, great Roy Orbison. The song is appropriately titled Crying.
You, you couldn't tell
that I'd been crying over you
crying over you
This song is appropriate for me on so many levels. But first let's go back to the dog and the crying. Yes, I cry over my infirm dog. And mostly I cry in my car so my dog does not see me crying. That's right, I hide my crying from my dog so she doesn't feel bad or maybe so I don't make her feel worse. Is this normal? I tend to think not. I mean really, I get in my car after work and the first thing I do after I pull out of my parking spot is start crying. The tears come on and off until I pull into my garage. Then I wipe them away and put on my happy face and go inside. To my dog. I put on my happy face for a dog. I even use my happy "isn't life so great and happy and exciting!" voice when I talk to her. I can't tell if it helps her at all, I think I do it more for me than her. Like if I can fake the happy with her then everything will be alright.
And by everything I mean EVERYTHING. Not just that she'll get better. Because she will and I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. She's a young and otherwise healthy dog and by god she will get well because I NEED her. She got me through the worst time of my life. The only reason I was able to drag myself out of bed last winter was because I had to take care of her. My cats could take care of themselves. They have their litter boxes and their food is out all the time so they were good to go. They would have let me stay in bed with the covers over my head for days, until their bowls needed to be refilled or their boxes needed to be scooped.
But Maggie needed to be let outside. She needed to be fed twice a day. She needed to be walked and given attention and loved. She is what saved me 10 months ago. This tiny silly little girl was my reason for getting out of bed in the morning when I could barely remember how to put one foot in front of the other. She helped me more than I can ever repay her for so now it is my turn to help her. And it's killing me that I can't just fix it for her. Killing me that she's been in pain and uncomfortable for so long now. It is simply heartbreaking.
Also by everything I mean that I will somehow soon be able to just f'ing let go of the past and move the hell on. As I sit here on my couch in my pajamas (which, hi, are really not flattering, how many different shades of gray can one person wear at a time? It's a damn good thing that I don't get visitors who just pop in to say hi) with tears rolling quietly down my cheeks (so my dog doesn't hear me crying, I am maybe not quite as sane as I used to be) not having eaten any dinner and unlikely to make anything for dinner I want only one thing. I want to know she cares. Okay maybe I want two things. I want to know she cares about me like I care about her and I want a hug, from her. And I am not a hugger. At all. I avoid the hug if at all possible especially if I don't know you well. I do miss that feeling of coming home when her arms were around me though. I miss the comfort of knowing she was there. I miss her. I could list all the things I miss about her, but I'm sure you'd fall asleep well before I got to the end of it.
So, the song lyrics fit for this aspect of my life too. Because I am crying over her. She of the five months of happiness. She who got under my skin when all I was looking for was to figure out the whole dating thing, to get back on the horse. She who showed me what it felt like to be treated the right way in a relationship. I am crying over her. Grieving for what could have been, should have been but she was too afraid to allow it to be.
I don't believe in Hollywood love. I don't believe that anyone rides happily off into the sunset. Relationships are give and take and they do take work to make them last. I don't believe that I need to be "completed" by another person (hello Jerry Maguire did you hear that? you do not complete me, only I can complete me). I do believe however that humans are pack animals and that all of us need that special person in our lives, especially when we're down. And when that special person doesn't exist we often turn to our pets for comfort. But when the down times coincide with the time that your pet is ill it kind of feels like a double wallop.
And so I cry in my car so my dog doesn't see me crying. I swallow my tears as she's screaming in my ear in pain as I gently lift her and carry her outside to do her business. I swallow my tears when she's panting in discomfort and nothing I do eases her pain. Because I know that once I start crying I won't stop. The floodgates open and I become a dripping mess who wants to curl up in a ball in the corner and stay like that forever. And I can't do that. Maggie needs me and I need her to get better because I need her too.
Friday, October 17, 2008
I just made you say...
We'll start with the lyrics today. My chosen song is Pinch Me by the Barenaked Ladies. The lyrics are:
On an evening such as this
It's hard to tell if I exist
If I packed a car and leave this town
Who'll notice that I'm not around?
I could hide out under there
I just made you say 'underwear'
That's right, I just made you say underwear because that is the topic at hand tonight. But I don't want to talk about my undergarments. Although I will say that the bra I chose to wear today, not really all that comfortable. Cute yes, kinda sexy yes, comfortable not so much. And you know when you pick a bra to wear in the morning you should choose the sexy one when you know you're going to spend the day by yourself (i.e. alone, solo, sans other people) dealing with the billion and two leaves in your yard because it's autumn in New England. Oh and you don't even have anyone to look sexy for other than your two cats and your dog who can't walk. That is the perfect day to wear the sexy bra instead of the comfortable and supportive bra. I was maybe not really thinking clearly when I got dressed this morning. And yet, here it is nearly midnight and I have worn the less than comfortable bra all day long.
Anywho that's enough about my underthings. What I really wanted to talk about is something that's been on my mind, well it's been on my mind every damned day for the last two months. That's right I think about something regarding underthings every day (sometimes more than once, especially if it's laundry day) and these underthings are not mine. So my question for you is what do you do when a relationship ends and you still have in your possession some items that belong to the person that is now your most recent ex? And mostly pointedly, what do you do when these things are not items such as CDs or books or even a sweater, but instead they are underwear? Let's just forget how these items ended up in my possession shall we? Thanks. Moving on...
How does one return these items to their rightful owner? Should you return these things, these underthings, to their rightful owner? What is the proper etiquette in this situation? Do you package them up neatly and mail them with a nice note? "Hi, you left these at my place. I thought you might like them back. We should have dinner sometime and catch up." Do you drive to this person's house and secretly leave them in their mailbox? Would that be considered tampering with the mail? Do you leave them discreetly in a bag on their porch? Driving to their house in the middle of the night of course so you won't be caught leaving underwear in a bag in their mailbox or on their porch. Do you leave them in a bag on their car at their place of employment (or in their car if you're lucky enough to have dated someone who does not lock their car)? What do you do in this situation? Perhaps an e-mail? "Hey, I know we're trying the whole let's be friends thing and I gotta tell you that's going just swimmingly considering we haven't seen each other in two months and we rarely even e-mail anymore and then there was the whole song quoting incident and so um, I have your underwear and I was wondering if I could exchange it for the glasses I left at your place?" Somehow that just doesn't seem right either.
The easiest thing to do would be to just get rid of them then I wouldn't have to think about what to do with the damned things every day when I see them. But I can't do that. I am too conscientious. I would know what I did and would feel bad about it, guilty even. I have this incredibly overwhelming need to return things to their rightful owners, to do the right thing so to speak. The funny thing is I'm sure she doesn't even realize these items are missing. Probably doesn't miss them at all. Unlike me who knows my glasses are in her house somewhere and while I don't need them because they are my back up pair, I want them because well, they are my back up pair. I could just throw the underthings in a bag somewhere and try to forget about them instead of keeping them front and center in the drawer which houses my underthings, but that feels kind of wrong to me too.
So far the only way I've been able to come up with to return these items is to get myself invited to her house. I will then put these items in the pocket of my jacket and throw them in her laundry hamper when I have the opportunity. This plan would not have worked when it was really warm out, but now that it's getting colder and a jacket is a justifiable piece of clothing I think the plan could work. The hardest part of the plan now is of course getting myself invited to her house. Considering I've suggested getting together for dinner, oh let's see, probably four times now and it still hasn't happened I'm not sure if I'll ever see the inside of her house again so this plan may be hard to accomplish.
If I was feeling brave I could take a day off of work, drive by her house a few times to make sure she wasn't home and her roommate wasn't home, sneak in (which would start her dog barking up a storm), throw the darned things in her hamper, find my glasses and get the hell out of dodge. But this is my life we're talking about here and I know for a fact that as soon as I shut the front door behind me and was walking toward her hamper she would pull into the driveway and I would be caught like a deer in headlights, undergarments in hand, looking like a lunatic stalker. "Hi, so nice to see you, you look great! What the hell am I doing in your house? Well, I thought you might like your underwear back so I was just returning it." And that is exactly how you want to see the person who is now your ex even though you (and by you I do mean me) still think the two of you should be together because too damned many things had to happen in a certain sequence for you to even meet. Especially after the song quoting incident which I swear I will blog about soon. Yes, this is exactly how I want to be remembered by this person. Not for the good times or the laughs or the, um, fun, we'll call it fun, had behind closed doors between consenting adults. No, I want to be remembered for going into their house when they aren't there and being caught with their underwear in my hands. I'm sure you can imagine why I'm not feeling brave enough to try that method of returning the garments to their rightful owner.
Tell me please what you would do in this situation. How would you return the underthings? Or if you wouldn't return them, what would you do? I am at a complete loss on this one so suggestions are most welcome. Please and thank you.
On an evening such as this
It's hard to tell if I exist
If I packed a car and leave this town
Who'll notice that I'm not around?
I could hide out under there
I just made you say 'underwear'
That's right, I just made you say underwear because that is the topic at hand tonight. But I don't want to talk about my undergarments. Although I will say that the bra I chose to wear today, not really all that comfortable. Cute yes, kinda sexy yes, comfortable not so much. And you know when you pick a bra to wear in the morning you should choose the sexy one when you know you're going to spend the day by yourself (i.e. alone, solo, sans other people) dealing with the billion and two leaves in your yard because it's autumn in New England. Oh and you don't even have anyone to look sexy for other than your two cats and your dog who can't walk. That is the perfect day to wear the sexy bra instead of the comfortable and supportive bra. I was maybe not really thinking clearly when I got dressed this morning. And yet, here it is nearly midnight and I have worn the less than comfortable bra all day long.
Anywho that's enough about my underthings. What I really wanted to talk about is something that's been on my mind, well it's been on my mind every damned day for the last two months. That's right I think about something regarding underthings every day (sometimes more than once, especially if it's laundry day) and these underthings are not mine. So my question for you is what do you do when a relationship ends and you still have in your possession some items that belong to the person that is now your most recent ex? And mostly pointedly, what do you do when these things are not items such as CDs or books or even a sweater, but instead they are underwear? Let's just forget how these items ended up in my possession shall we? Thanks. Moving on...
How does one return these items to their rightful owner? Should you return these things, these underthings, to their rightful owner? What is the proper etiquette in this situation? Do you package them up neatly and mail them with a nice note? "Hi, you left these at my place. I thought you might like them back. We should have dinner sometime and catch up." Do you drive to this person's house and secretly leave them in their mailbox? Would that be considered tampering with the mail? Do you leave them discreetly in a bag on their porch? Driving to their house in the middle of the night of course so you won't be caught leaving underwear in a bag in their mailbox or on their porch. Do you leave them in a bag on their car at their place of employment (or in their car if you're lucky enough to have dated someone who does not lock their car)? What do you do in this situation? Perhaps an e-mail? "Hey, I know we're trying the whole let's be friends thing and I gotta tell you that's going just swimmingly considering we haven't seen each other in two months and we rarely even e-mail anymore and then there was the whole song quoting incident and so um, I have your underwear and I was wondering if I could exchange it for the glasses I left at your place?" Somehow that just doesn't seem right either.
The easiest thing to do would be to just get rid of them then I wouldn't have to think about what to do with the damned things every day when I see them. But I can't do that. I am too conscientious. I would know what I did and would feel bad about it, guilty even. I have this incredibly overwhelming need to return things to their rightful owners, to do the right thing so to speak. The funny thing is I'm sure she doesn't even realize these items are missing. Probably doesn't miss them at all. Unlike me who knows my glasses are in her house somewhere and while I don't need them because they are my back up pair, I want them because well, they are my back up pair. I could just throw the underthings in a bag somewhere and try to forget about them instead of keeping them front and center in the drawer which houses my underthings, but that feels kind of wrong to me too.
So far the only way I've been able to come up with to return these items is to get myself invited to her house. I will then put these items in the pocket of my jacket and throw them in her laundry hamper when I have the opportunity. This plan would not have worked when it was really warm out, but now that it's getting colder and a jacket is a justifiable piece of clothing I think the plan could work. The hardest part of the plan now is of course getting myself invited to her house. Considering I've suggested getting together for dinner, oh let's see, probably four times now and it still hasn't happened I'm not sure if I'll ever see the inside of her house again so this plan may be hard to accomplish.
If I was feeling brave I could take a day off of work, drive by her house a few times to make sure she wasn't home and her roommate wasn't home, sneak in (which would start her dog barking up a storm), throw the darned things in her hamper, find my glasses and get the hell out of dodge. But this is my life we're talking about here and I know for a fact that as soon as I shut the front door behind me and was walking toward her hamper she would pull into the driveway and I would be caught like a deer in headlights, undergarments in hand, looking like a lunatic stalker. "Hi, so nice to see you, you look great! What the hell am I doing in your house? Well, I thought you might like your underwear back so I was just returning it." And that is exactly how you want to see the person who is now your ex even though you (and by you I do mean me) still think the two of you should be together because too damned many things had to happen in a certain sequence for you to even meet. Especially after the song quoting incident which I swear I will blog about soon. Yes, this is exactly how I want to be remembered by this person. Not for the good times or the laughs or the, um, fun, we'll call it fun, had behind closed doors between consenting adults. No, I want to be remembered for going into their house when they aren't there and being caught with their underwear in my hands. I'm sure you can imagine why I'm not feeling brave enough to try that method of returning the garments to their rightful owner.
Tell me please what you would do in this situation. How would you return the underthings? Or if you wouldn't return them, what would you do? I am at a complete loss on this one so suggestions are most welcome. Please and thank you.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
So much and yet so little to say
It seems as though I can compose entire blogs in my head while I'm in the shower or while driving to work or while I'm doing anything but sitting in front of my computer. Then I sit down with my laptop and faced with this blank page I forget everything I wanted to talk about. So, this blog will be a compilation of a few of the things I can remember thinking I should blog about.
So, since the theme of this blog is memories the lyrics for today are from the musical Cats and the song of course is Memory.
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
First I'll talk about the random flash of memory I had last week when it was unseasonably cold here in New England. My mother suggested putting up curtains across my stairs to keep the heat on the first floor where I spend my evenings. So, when she was here a couple weeks ago we did that. One evening early last week I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and as I was walking down the cold hallway (the curtains DO work for keeping the heat where I want it!) I had a flash of memory. It was just a half a second but it took me all the way back to being a little kid. The flash of memory was of the stairwell at my grandmother's house. She always kept the door closed at the bottom and most of the time at the top as well. In the winter that stairwell was very cold. And it had a certain smell. Not a bad smell or a good smell just a unique to that stairwell smell. I actually smelled it when I had that flash of memory last week. I wonder if my cousins remember that smell or ever think about those stairs? The stairs we used to ride mattresses down "in secret" while the grownups were talking about grownup things in the living room or the dining room or the kitchen.
Next, memories. What would we do without our memories? We would probably torture ourselves less with the what ifs and the if onlys and the could have, should have, would haves. I can't help but wonder how things might be different for me today if. That's it, just if. How would I be different if I'd never moved to CT? What if I was the one who ended the relationship way back when it should have been ended? What if I'd taken a different job when I first moved here? What if I'd gone to a different college? What if, what if, what if? But the what ifs do no good. This, right here right now, is where I am in my life. And for the most part I'm happy with it. I like who I am, I love myself and that's what's the most important.
Memories also carry us through the hard times. My dog has been sick. I'm not even sure if sick is the right term for it. She can't walk because of a bulging disc somewhere in the middle of her back (technical veterinary diagnosis is disc disease). I'm terrified for her and what it means for her future. But I look at her and try to see past the discomfort and the sadness and remember her as she was and will be again, the goofy and happy go lucky little beagle that she is. My little Magnolia Blossom. My little beagle butt girl. I'll look back on this blog in six months and be able to smile at the memory of she and I "walking" in the yard, me holding her back end up with a sling made out of my fleece scarf. We make quite the sight. She doesn't quite get that I'm too big to travel along her typical routes and I am not the best at keeping her body aligned so sometimes she fishtail's a little bit.
I know there are more things I wanted to blog about, but frankly my mind has been a bit mushy lately. Worrying about your baby will do that to you and my dog is my baby. I don't have or want children of my own so my pets are my children (just ask their piano teacher, joking, but closer to the truth than I'd normally like to admit). I just wish she could talk to me, tell me if she's feeling any better or if it's worse. Tell me what might help her feel better. Tell me if the medicine is making her stomach upset or if she's thirsty or hungry or sad or lonely or whatever. Instead I tell her how much I love her and how we're going to make her all better and hope that I'm not telling her a lie. I can't bear the thought of my little girl not smiling her goofy smile at me as she throws herself down on my bed and rolls over for a belly rub when I get home from work and she's over joyed that I returned! Again! Or never seeing her get so exciting she can't contain herself when she realizes we're going for a walk so she does her "We're going for a WALK!" dance. Or even watching her roll in ecstasy in some other animal's poop that I know I'm going to have to wash off of her and her collar. There is nothing in the world that can take away the "I'm having a shitty day" feelings for me than seeing her so happy to see me.
And seeing my little girl hurting and trying to drag herself around using only her front legs makes me a little lonely. I'm not even sure lonely is the word I want here. It's more that I'm feeling an absence in my life. Missing that person to turn to for comfort, for a hug. My friends are all great of course and supportive and fantastic, but I miss having that special person to share this with. The one I can cry with or to and who will just put her arms around me and that simple act alone will make me feel better. I miss that. I don't need it to survive or complete me or anything like that, but I do miss it. I do feel the absence.
One other random tidbit. Dictionaries are great, but if you don't know how to spell the word they're awfully hard to use....and I am not the world's best speller. Ponder that for a bit.
So, since the theme of this blog is memories the lyrics for today are from the musical Cats and the song of course is Memory.
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
First I'll talk about the random flash of memory I had last week when it was unseasonably cold here in New England. My mother suggested putting up curtains across my stairs to keep the heat on the first floor where I spend my evenings. So, when she was here a couple weeks ago we did that. One evening early last week I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and as I was walking down the cold hallway (the curtains DO work for keeping the heat where I want it!) I had a flash of memory. It was just a half a second but it took me all the way back to being a little kid. The flash of memory was of the stairwell at my grandmother's house. She always kept the door closed at the bottom and most of the time at the top as well. In the winter that stairwell was very cold. And it had a certain smell. Not a bad smell or a good smell just a unique to that stairwell smell. I actually smelled it when I had that flash of memory last week. I wonder if my cousins remember that smell or ever think about those stairs? The stairs we used to ride mattresses down "in secret" while the grownups were talking about grownup things in the living room or the dining room or the kitchen.
Next, memories. What would we do without our memories? We would probably torture ourselves less with the what ifs and the if onlys and the could have, should have, would haves. I can't help but wonder how things might be different for me today if. That's it, just if. How would I be different if I'd never moved to CT? What if I was the one who ended the relationship way back when it should have been ended? What if I'd taken a different job when I first moved here? What if I'd gone to a different college? What if, what if, what if? But the what ifs do no good. This, right here right now, is where I am in my life. And for the most part I'm happy with it. I like who I am, I love myself and that's what's the most important.
Memories also carry us through the hard times. My dog has been sick. I'm not even sure if sick is the right term for it. She can't walk because of a bulging disc somewhere in the middle of her back (technical veterinary diagnosis is disc disease). I'm terrified for her and what it means for her future. But I look at her and try to see past the discomfort and the sadness and remember her as she was and will be again, the goofy and happy go lucky little beagle that she is. My little Magnolia Blossom. My little beagle butt girl. I'll look back on this blog in six months and be able to smile at the memory of she and I "walking" in the yard, me holding her back end up with a sling made out of my fleece scarf. We make quite the sight. She doesn't quite get that I'm too big to travel along her typical routes and I am not the best at keeping her body aligned so sometimes she fishtail's a little bit.
I know there are more things I wanted to blog about, but frankly my mind has been a bit mushy lately. Worrying about your baby will do that to you and my dog is my baby. I don't have or want children of my own so my pets are my children (just ask their piano teacher, joking, but closer to the truth than I'd normally like to admit). I just wish she could talk to me, tell me if she's feeling any better or if it's worse. Tell me what might help her feel better. Tell me if the medicine is making her stomach upset or if she's thirsty or hungry or sad or lonely or whatever. Instead I tell her how much I love her and how we're going to make her all better and hope that I'm not telling her a lie. I can't bear the thought of my little girl not smiling her goofy smile at me as she throws herself down on my bed and rolls over for a belly rub when I get home from work and she's over joyed that I returned! Again! Or never seeing her get so exciting she can't contain herself when she realizes we're going for a walk so she does her "We're going for a WALK!" dance. Or even watching her roll in ecstasy in some other animal's poop that I know I'm going to have to wash off of her and her collar. There is nothing in the world that can take away the "I'm having a shitty day" feelings for me than seeing her so happy to see me.
And seeing my little girl hurting and trying to drag herself around using only her front legs makes me a little lonely. I'm not even sure lonely is the word I want here. It's more that I'm feeling an absence in my life. Missing that person to turn to for comfort, for a hug. My friends are all great of course and supportive and fantastic, but I miss having that special person to share this with. The one I can cry with or to and who will just put her arms around me and that simple act alone will make me feel better. I miss that. I don't need it to survive or complete me or anything like that, but I do miss it. I do feel the absence.
One other random tidbit. Dictionaries are great, but if you don't know how to spell the word they're awfully hard to use....and I am not the world's best speller. Ponder that for a bit.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
In my head
Lately I've been thinking a lot about life and death and love and work. Okay, let's get real here for a minute, I think about these things all the time, just lately it seems like I've had more cause to actually admit to thinking about them. I've come to some interesting conclusions. First I've realized that I am not afraid of my own death. I used to be, used to be terrified of it in fact. Now though I'm more concerned about what would happen to my pets if I were to die. I think this means I'm growing up and am peace with who I am and with my life. That's comforting.
I've also been thinking about death because a good friend of mine lost her mother. Another friend of mine has a close friend who may not make it to the end of the year. Death really puts things in perspective. My petty little complaints about my office being minus twelve degrees seem, well, petty. Death also serves to remind us to tell those we love how we feel because you never know when that person won't be around anymore for you to tell them. So I urge you all, all like two of you who will read this, tell your loved ones you love them. Tell your friends you care. Do it now, do it today, don't regret not doing it.
As for my thoughts about work, well, work is work and I hate feeling like work is work. I want to feel good about what I'm doing, and lately that feeling just hasn't been there for me. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I maybe don't respect my boss all that much. I have what is probably a superiority complex when it comes to her and that's probably bad. I consider myself a far better manager to my staff than she is to me (and compared to how she treats other members of her staff I have it great) and I don't feel like I'm learning things from her. Maybe we've just worked together for too long and so therefore I've seen her in more respects than just as my boss, I don't know. I'm need to figure out a way to make work work for me again so I don't go home feeling like I've wasted eight hours of my day five days a week.
Onto love. Here's where the lyrics come into play for this post. Our selection today is from the Rent soundtrack (shocking, I know!). The song is Today 4 U and the lyric is: Today for you, tomorrow for me.
I realized not so long ago that all of my relationships have followed this pattern to some extent. I have given up myself for the other person thinking I'll worry about me and my needs tomorrow. This is soooooo not good. There's a line between being selfless and losing yourself. I tend to lose myself. I did better this last time around (with Five Months of Happiness woman that is, who incidentally does have a name, but I don't believe in splashing her personal business all over the internet, especially without her permission and since getting her permission would require me actually hearing from her that might be hard since apparently "I still want you in my life as a friend, I can't imagine my life without you in it" means "you will hear from me maybe once a month if you're lucky").
I'm sure now that I've had this epiphany about how I lose myself I'll do even better still next time around. I mean for criminey's sake I moved to CT to be with Ms. Ex (she of the eight year relationship and the three week engagement). I gave up my happiness in NY, my friends there, my life there, to move to this state that was like a foreign country to me just to be with her. I think I knew pretty quickly after I got here that this was a mistake, but damn it I made a commitment and I was going to stick with it. And stick with it I did even though I was unhappy and probably depressed. Perhaps I am also a bit on the stubborn side? Must be the Aries in me.
Anyway, that leaves me with thinking about life. Life is a funny thing. So many lessons to be learned. So much to do and see and experience. I've been wondering if I'm living life to the fullest. But I took a step back from that question and asked myself "who's definition of fullest are we talking about here?" Are we talking about what others think you should be doing to really be "living" or are we talking about what MY definition of living is? Once I figured out that I had been basing my idea of living life to the fullest on what other people think I should be doing it was pretty easy to let go of that notion and realize that I love my life. I have a good life. I am an incredibly lucky person to have the kind of life I do. I am healthy. I am able to provide for myself. I own my own home. I have two wonderful cats and a silly little beagle who love me no matter what. I have family and friends who also love me no matter what. Who cares that I don't travel to Asia three times a year or that I don't have a summer home on the shore or a 70 inch plasma TV (although, hi, that would be awesome to watch movies on while I'm knitting). Those things won't answer the phone if you call them at three a.m. crying. They aren't there to greet you at the door when you come home from a long day at work. They don't matter in the long run. What matters is that I love myself and my life and some day soon I will meet a woman who loves me for me (okay so I've already met one of those, this time I mean I'll meet one that won't freak out on me because the relationship is getting serious).
These are the things that have been running through my mind lately. Perhaps now that I'm feeling a little more chipper my next post will be about the Song Quoting Incident of 2008. I'll leave you by saying I am discovering that I am perhaps a little bit less than sane at certain times of the month.
I've also been thinking about death because a good friend of mine lost her mother. Another friend of mine has a close friend who may not make it to the end of the year. Death really puts things in perspective. My petty little complaints about my office being minus twelve degrees seem, well, petty. Death also serves to remind us to tell those we love how we feel because you never know when that person won't be around anymore for you to tell them. So I urge you all, all like two of you who will read this, tell your loved ones you love them. Tell your friends you care. Do it now, do it today, don't regret not doing it.
As for my thoughts about work, well, work is work and I hate feeling like work is work. I want to feel good about what I'm doing, and lately that feeling just hasn't been there for me. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I maybe don't respect my boss all that much. I have what is probably a superiority complex when it comes to her and that's probably bad. I consider myself a far better manager to my staff than she is to me (and compared to how she treats other members of her staff I have it great) and I don't feel like I'm learning things from her. Maybe we've just worked together for too long and so therefore I've seen her in more respects than just as my boss, I don't know. I'm need to figure out a way to make work work for me again so I don't go home feeling like I've wasted eight hours of my day five days a week.
Onto love. Here's where the lyrics come into play for this post. Our selection today is from the Rent soundtrack (shocking, I know!). The song is Today 4 U and the lyric is: Today for you, tomorrow for me.
I realized not so long ago that all of my relationships have followed this pattern to some extent. I have given up myself for the other person thinking I'll worry about me and my needs tomorrow. This is soooooo not good. There's a line between being selfless and losing yourself. I tend to lose myself. I did better this last time around (with Five Months of Happiness woman that is, who incidentally does have a name, but I don't believe in splashing her personal business all over the internet, especially without her permission and since getting her permission would require me actually hearing from her that might be hard since apparently "I still want you in my life as a friend, I can't imagine my life without you in it" means "you will hear from me maybe once a month if you're lucky").
I'm sure now that I've had this epiphany about how I lose myself I'll do even better still next time around. I mean for criminey's sake I moved to CT to be with Ms. Ex (she of the eight year relationship and the three week engagement). I gave up my happiness in NY, my friends there, my life there, to move to this state that was like a foreign country to me just to be with her. I think I knew pretty quickly after I got here that this was a mistake, but damn it I made a commitment and I was going to stick with it. And stick with it I did even though I was unhappy and probably depressed. Perhaps I am also a bit on the stubborn side? Must be the Aries in me.
Anyway, that leaves me with thinking about life. Life is a funny thing. So many lessons to be learned. So much to do and see and experience. I've been wondering if I'm living life to the fullest. But I took a step back from that question and asked myself "who's definition of fullest are we talking about here?" Are we talking about what others think you should be doing to really be "living" or are we talking about what MY definition of living is? Once I figured out that I had been basing my idea of living life to the fullest on what other people think I should be doing it was pretty easy to let go of that notion and realize that I love my life. I have a good life. I am an incredibly lucky person to have the kind of life I do. I am healthy. I am able to provide for myself. I own my own home. I have two wonderful cats and a silly little beagle who love me no matter what. I have family and friends who also love me no matter what. Who cares that I don't travel to Asia three times a year or that I don't have a summer home on the shore or a 70 inch plasma TV (although, hi, that would be awesome to watch movies on while I'm knitting). Those things won't answer the phone if you call them at three a.m. crying. They aren't there to greet you at the door when you come home from a long day at work. They don't matter in the long run. What matters is that I love myself and my life and some day soon I will meet a woman who loves me for me (okay so I've already met one of those, this time I mean I'll meet one that won't freak out on me because the relationship is getting serious).
These are the things that have been running through my mind lately. Perhaps now that I'm feeling a little more chipper my next post will be about the Song Quoting Incident of 2008. I'll leave you by saying I am discovering that I am perhaps a little bit less than sane at certain times of the month.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Welcome and this got longer than I intended
Welcome to the inaugural post of My Life Through Lyrics where I plan to share my life with you through, um, well, song lyrics. Or more appropriately I guess I should say I'll post lyrics that are fitting to my state of mind for each post. Why bother? Well, because I have apparently been stricken with the "ICan'tStopQuotingSongs" disease which led to the "Song Quoting Incident of 2008" a few weeks ago (which when I'm feeling a bit more chipper and able to laugh at myself I will blog about so you can laugh at, I mean with, me) and I thought perhaps this blog would help cure me of this nasty quoting disease.
Today's lyrics are from "Climbing Mountains" by Meg Hutchinson
Dreamt last night I was climbing mountains
Way beyond the earth’s strange pull
Dreamt last night I was climbing mountains
Way beyond love’s fierce hold
And last night I did dream. I wish I could describe the whole thing for you, but I can't. Let's leave it at it had a lot of people from work in it in a dark and crowded auditorium/lecture hall. In addition to the folks from work it also had someone I went to high school with that I haven't thought about in forever who was wearing an ugly bikini, had a really really bad hairdo and incredibly long hair in a very private region which was poking out through said ugly bikini. Scary stuff right there. I didn't even remember that some people were in the dream until I heard their voices at work today. It was a very strange dream to say the least. But the biggest question is why am I dreaming about people from work? What significance does that hold? Could it be because I lately I have been feeling like I am so done with my job? Or perhaps it's just the fact that I need a vacation that might be enough to cause strange co-worker dreams? Who knows. The dream I had over the weekend about the tornado makes perfect sense however. Tornadoes in dreams signify disruptions and upsets in your immediate environment and specific or current issues that may be overwhelming. And well, that pretty much fits although the dream is about five or six weeks late, but I've never been one to keep up with the Joneses.
My life the last few years has been a nearly constant state of disruption and upset. That story I will save for another time. But this year I spent five wonderful months the happiest I can remember being perhaps ever in my life. Five months filled with fun and joy and fun and some other things that are better left between two consenting adults and behind a closed door. And that happiness was taken from me and there was nothing I could do or say to stop it because no matter what we do we cannot change how another person thinks or feels or how they react to their fears. And losing this happiness is what that tornado dream was all about. I finally had my life under control and I was happy and feeling like I was moving on and BAM! buh bye without so much as an "I'm freaking out can we try to work on things?" Instead it was "I can't do this right now. I'm sorry." Granted, my happiness never rested solely in this person's hands, but I did find a lot of happiness through her, with her. And she is who I miss when I feel lonely or alone. This wonderful woman who came into my life during a really dark time, she is the one I think about. Not the woman I spent more than eight years of my life with. Not the woman who I bought a house with and got dogs with and was engaged to (however briefly) and thought I would spend the rest of my life with. No, I don't think about her. I think about this other woman who got under my skin and showed me that it was possible for me to love again. She is who I think about, she is who caused my tornado dream. And no matter how much I miss her or how much getting dumped sucks (because let's face it, it does suck no matter how long you're with a person and no matter how sorry or honest or kind they are when they dump you, it still sucks, suck, suck, suckity sucks) no matter all that I will always be grateful for the time we had together. I will always be grateful that we met. I will always be grateful that I was able to see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her touch and see the special look she got in her eyes when we were alone together. I'll never forget those things.
Weird things cause me to miss her, this five months of happiness woman. Apple picking this weekend for instance caused this enormous ache for her that I was not expecting. Apple picking for christ's sake. Something we never did together, never talked about doing together and as far as I can remember something that I've never even done before. But as I got in my car to drive home on that beautiful fall Saturday I couldn't help but think how much I would have enjoyed doing that with her (it was fun with you to F. don't get me wrong). I have to wonder when will these pangs stop? How long before they don't catch me off guard anymore? Is there a statute of limitations on these things?
Today's lyrics are from "Climbing Mountains" by Meg Hutchinson
Dreamt last night I was climbing mountains
Way beyond the earth’s strange pull
Dreamt last night I was climbing mountains
Way beyond love’s fierce hold
And last night I did dream. I wish I could describe the whole thing for you, but I can't. Let's leave it at it had a lot of people from work in it in a dark and crowded auditorium/lecture hall. In addition to the folks from work it also had someone I went to high school with that I haven't thought about in forever who was wearing an ugly bikini, had a really really bad hairdo and incredibly long hair in a very private region which was poking out through said ugly bikini. Scary stuff right there. I didn't even remember that some people were in the dream until I heard their voices at work today. It was a very strange dream to say the least. But the biggest question is why am I dreaming about people from work? What significance does that hold? Could it be because I lately I have been feeling like I am so done with my job? Or perhaps it's just the fact that I need a vacation that might be enough to cause strange co-worker dreams? Who knows. The dream I had over the weekend about the tornado makes perfect sense however. Tornadoes in dreams signify disruptions and upsets in your immediate environment and specific or current issues that may be overwhelming. And well, that pretty much fits although the dream is about five or six weeks late, but I've never been one to keep up with the Joneses.
My life the last few years has been a nearly constant state of disruption and upset. That story I will save for another time. But this year I spent five wonderful months the happiest I can remember being perhaps ever in my life. Five months filled with fun and joy and fun and some other things that are better left between two consenting adults and behind a closed door. And that happiness was taken from me and there was nothing I could do or say to stop it because no matter what we do we cannot change how another person thinks or feels or how they react to their fears. And losing this happiness is what that tornado dream was all about. I finally had my life under control and I was happy and feeling like I was moving on and BAM! buh bye without so much as an "I'm freaking out can we try to work on things?" Instead it was "I can't do this right now. I'm sorry." Granted, my happiness never rested solely in this person's hands, but I did find a lot of happiness through her, with her. And she is who I miss when I feel lonely or alone. This wonderful woman who came into my life during a really dark time, she is the one I think about. Not the woman I spent more than eight years of my life with. Not the woman who I bought a house with and got dogs with and was engaged to (however briefly) and thought I would spend the rest of my life with. No, I don't think about her. I think about this other woman who got under my skin and showed me that it was possible for me to love again. She is who I think about, she is who caused my tornado dream. And no matter how much I miss her or how much getting dumped sucks (because let's face it, it does suck no matter how long you're with a person and no matter how sorry or honest or kind they are when they dump you, it still sucks, suck, suck, suckity sucks) no matter all that I will always be grateful for the time we had together. I will always be grateful that we met. I will always be grateful that I was able to see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her touch and see the special look she got in her eyes when we were alone together. I'll never forget those things.
Weird things cause me to miss her, this five months of happiness woman. Apple picking this weekend for instance caused this enormous ache for her that I was not expecting. Apple picking for christ's sake. Something we never did together, never talked about doing together and as far as I can remember something that I've never even done before. But as I got in my car to drive home on that beautiful fall Saturday I couldn't help but think how much I would have enjoyed doing that with her (it was fun with you to F. don't get me wrong). I have to wonder when will these pangs stop? How long before they don't catch me off guard anymore? Is there a statute of limitations on these things?
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