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justgettingby
30 November 2006 @ 10:09 pm
Nearly 14 years ago my parents decided we were finally ready for a dog.  I was15 and my younger sister was just 7.  My sister was obsessed with Beauty and the Beast, while I was a rebellious teen, smoking pot in my bedroom like I owned the place.  The day after Christmas, my parents and my sister went to pick up the cutest fur ball you ever did see.  She was a sweet little cocker spaniel, with black silky fur, and just a tuft of white fur on her chest. 

I'm not exactly sure of how we came up with the name...I had a few friends over that day, we were being silly in the living room while the family drove out to pick up our newest family member.  We weren't high that day - as 15 year olds, most of us didn't have the money to support any kind of habit.  Still, we were always a little rowdy, so when it came time to name our friend, everyone had something to say. 

Monica desperately wanted to call her Belle after her favorite movie - I think I wanted licorice because it was currently my favorite munchie food...but I can't be sure.  I don't remember who came up with the Lady part, maybe we just wanted to give her a regal edge.  Lord knows she needed it!  So, Lady Belle Licorice it was, though we usually just called her Belle.

Belle was always a little on the slow side.  We were never able to fully potty train her, and there were some mornings when we would wake up to gifts of turds on the stairs.  But she was a good girl.  She rarely barked, was always happy to see you and was usually willing to share a snuggle or two.  She just wasn't very smart, but that almost made her more endearing to me and my sister.  She was so protective of my mother, whenever she would go out of town, Belle would sit on the porch for hours, waiting for the car to pull into the garage.  When she wasn't outside waiting for mom to come home, she was pacing the hallway into the wee hours...keeping the rest of us awake, listening to her panting. 

As we all got older, poor little Beller started to lose her hearing.  Now she didn't come to the door to greet you - she didn't hear us walk in, but would sometimes feel the vibration of the door shutting behind us.  Most of the time she'd muster up the strength to get up and say hello, but sometimes she was just too tired. 

On my birthday this year, a couple of friends and I decided to go to my parent's house, partially because we wanted to see Belle.  It had been a long time since my friends had seen Belle, and her health was declining fast. 

As usual, she was thrilled to see us all, and spent most of the evening in the kitchen with us.  That made it more painful to see how old she had gotten.  Her ebony fur was now a beautiful silver all over her face, ears and chest.  Sometime over the past couple of months she had picked up a cough, and it was frightening to hear her wheeze.  Belle was old.  

This morning, my mother and sister took Lady Belle Licorice to the vet for the last time.  The last couple of days it had become clear that it was time for us to let poor Beller go, she was ready.  I would have given anything to be there at her side, stroking her soft ears - but it would have been selfish of me to make her wait.  She was a good girl, and I wouldn't want her to suffer for me.  I'm thankful that my family was there for her, that she knows she was loved.  It's truly the very least we could have done for her after all the years of unconditional love she had offered us. 

We'll miss you, Belle.  You were a good girl. 
 
 
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
 
 
justgettingby
03 August 2006 @ 09:50 pm
It's funny - even though I believe that we have the ability to create our own destiny, I often forget exactly how easily the things we do can come back to haunt us. I realize that not everyone believes that the things you do in this life will come back in one way or another. It's karma, but not in the traditional sense; we are destined to learn the lessons that we need to learn, in this life and the next. Maybe I'm just hyper-aware of the coincidences in my life - considering how much time I devote to over analyzing a situation, mulling over all the potential outcomes and what ifs until I'm stuck with a very foreboding view of the future. Either way, it's clear to me that what goes around comes around.

Perfect example: this week I was blown off. I won't even go into the specifics because they're really not that important, and besides, I'm not really sure what the hell happened anyway. One minute I thought I found a really good gig (friends with benefits - YAY!) and suddenly, nope, sorry. Believe me, I could talk about it for hours. I already have. I've gone over it all from the possible mixed signals to the in-depth character analysis. The bottom line is I have no clue what happened and why because I was blown off. It's the not really knowing that drives me crazy. I can deal with rejection, especially when I hadn't made up my own mind about the situation and there was virtually no investment. It's the lack of closure that REALLY drives me up a wall. Is it really so hard for y'all to say you're not interested? Geez, grow some fucking balls!

Anyway, I'm moving off onto a totally different tangent that I could really get carried away with. That's where all the anxiety comes from - the obsession and inability to stop my brain from going places I don't necessarily want to go.

You've heard the saying that we criticize in others the very qualities that we dislike most about ourselves? I'm a chronic hermit. To the extreme. It's gotten a bit better over the last couple of years, but I'm still quite capable of dropping out of society for weeks, even months at a time. When I fall into that pattern, it's very difficult for me to drag myself out of it. When I'm in that place, it's highly likely that I will end up blowing someone off. I don't mean it. Really. But I'm usually struggling to drag myself out of the house, so I make plans only to realize that I really don't have the strength to do much of anything, much less follow through with being social.

I'd forgotten all this until this evening, while folding laundry (god bless the rain!) it suddenly occurred to me how often I had been the blower. Just recently in fact, I blew off a very nice young man that I had been communicating with since this winter. No particular reason. I just kind of lost interest in pursuing anything and didn't feel like putting in the effort. So I stopped returning his calls. Which made the situation worse because this perfectly nice young man is probably also very lonely, because I'm still getting calls over 2 months later. Which I continue to ignore.

So really, all this talk about how the new boy should have just been honest about the change of heart is a crock. For a minute I was even considering calling him on it and telling him exactly what I thought about his lack of integrity. But honestly, it seems only fitting that I am now the blowee. Damn, why is payback always such a bitch?
 
 
Current Location: my brain
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
 
 
justgettingby
29 July 2006 @ 11:01 am
I had an epiphany today. Throughout my adulthood, I've made a point of trying to understand myself. I've taken all the personality sorters: the Myers-Briggs, astrology, numerology and my personal favorite, the enneagram. Like most other personality type, the enneagram gives you different versions of where you are as your type: what you're capable of at your best, what types of behaviors are prevalent when you are at your worst. I am a 6, the Loyalist, in every sense. This is a pretty good description I found on wikipedia: "Sixes long for stability above all else. They exhibit unwavering loyalty and responsibility, but once crossed, they are not quick to trust again. They are prone to extreme anxiety and passive-aggressive behavior. Their greatest fear is to lack support and guidance. There are two types of sixes, phobic" (definitely me!) "and counterphobic. Phobic sixes will have a tendency to run from or hide from what they fear, while a counterphobic six is more likely to attack or confront said fear. The corresponding "deadly sin" of the Six is Cowardice, while the Six's "holy idea" or essence is Holy Faith and Strength."

Because of my Sixishness, I have spent my life trying to avoid stress - I already have enough internal stress to keep me busy. I hibernate, self-medicate, and otherwise avoid outside sources of stress. This is why I am STILL not in school, nor am I making any progress towards making it happen. The idea of making a decision as huge as what I'm going to do with the rest of my life just paralyzes me. Inaction seems like the only way to cope with my inability to make decisions. Then again, this doesn't stop any of the additional tension due to my inability to achieve my goals. Running away from stress is also why I haven't updated in forever - I've attempted to on at least 5 different occasions, but got too nervous about setting anything in stone that I ended up deleting the entry.

Unfortunately, none of this has helped me to escape the nasty side effects of tension - I have been plagued with headaches my entire life. They're usually bearable enough where I can get on with my life, but present at most times. Some are worse than others. When outside sources of stress become unavoidable I usually end up making myself sick with worry. First the headaches are so intense that it hurts to open my eyes, then the stomach ache kicks in and it's really just time for me to call it a day. Which is precisely what happened this week.

The details of why aren't important, let's just say it concerned a boy who was trying to capture my fancy. It had been about a week when I lost my control, my inner paranoia kicked in and I ended up practically crawling to my car to get home from work. It's been 3 days and the headache is still with me in all it's fury (it's a miracle I'm able to type this right now). There was a brief hiatus yesterday due to a wonderful trip to the Botanic Gardens - what a wonderfully relaxing piece of heaven - but it's been a good 70 hours straight of skull throbbing, brain squeezing agony. So here's the epiphany: I can't live like this anymore.

It's time to make a change and pursue other ways of dealing with all this extra anxiety that I've been bottling up for so long. I don't want to be forced into inactivity because actively making decisions and living my life has become debilitating. I'm tired of living like a hermit who's afraid of change. Oh, and wait - I actually have a health care plan that will enable the healing process!!! So here I go, after a 10-year hiatus, back into therapy. Already I feel a zillion times better. Except for the headache.
 
 
Current Mood: discontentdiscontent
 
 
justgettingby
03 May 2006 @ 07:47 pm
Why do they have to be so freaking cute? I mean, I think I'm pretty good at weeding through the bullshit that is advertising. I understand that I am a puppet with strings ripe for the pulling. That my tv is simply a tool geared towards opening my wallet. And knowing this obviously counteracts some of the effects. Except when it comes to Apple. You know that commercial with the 20-something hipster (Mac) and the middle aged dweeb? I hate it. I hate it because it totally works. I see that commercial and I think, "yeah, I totally want an Apple". AND I DO! But is it because they really are superior computers, or because I'm a sucker to the ads? Luckily there is no way I will be able to purchase one of those shiney desktop status symbols anytime soon, so I guess their plan is temporarily foiled.
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justgettingby
09 March 2006 @ 07:51 pm
yes, closets with doors. I dream of them. Those sweet little spaces; places to hide all that stuff that no one really wants to see. Like my two cat carriers. Ok, I have cats. But when you have to look at a cat carrier EVERY TIME you use the bathroom, it makes them feel less like a member of the family, and more like a wild creature that needs to be contained. Ok, they ARE wild creatures, but I don't want to be reminded of that ALL THE TIME. The solution? Closets with doors. Which I will have...in 3 short weeks. Not just one, but 3, yes 3!!!! closets...with doors. Deep breathing.

In addition to those wondrous boxes of secret stashes, I will also have an actual back door!! No more death trap for me, thank you very much - I will now have 2 exits to escape with. Don't even get me started on the back porch. And the full size refrigerator and stove. But the best part about moving? An actual BEDROOM. Now I just need to find someone to lure into it...
 
 
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: rain