Casual as birds

I have a major problem with dwelling in the past.  Living in the moment is a really appealing idea, but pointless nostalgia can swallow me up.  The general existence of the internet doesn’t help with this, as I have the ability to stalk people who I’m better off knowing nothing about, and lack the self control to keep myself from looking at the shit behind the curtain.  So, right now I am struggling to convince myself that people who treat me like shit don’t deserve a place in my life, that I don’t actually have to be nice to everybody and give everybody the benefit of the doubt.  It’s ok to cut people off who have in essence written me off.  I am just fine.  Things were great, actually, until I went and dug stuff up that got me upset.  So the moral of the story, I guess, is that ignorance is bliss?  I don’t know about that.  But either way I’m gonna brush my shoulders off, and quit rambling.

About a month or so ago, I visited the Berkeley animal shelter and fell in love with this beautiful pit bull, Maria, who was supposedly going to be euthanized in a few days because she had kennel stress after having been there for seven months.  I couldn’t take her home, although I almost tried, but I did what I could.  I posted on facebook and craigslist and my church’s listserve to try to find her the good home she deserved.  I never heard anything, and let it go.  Although I did see a few days ago that she was still alive, according to the shelter website.  Anyway, today I went to a volunteer orientation at the shelter, and long story short, one of the other women there is Maria’s new mom.  She got adopted!  And it was because of the post I made to the church list serve.  So I helped save her life, and that feels good.  Plus during the orientation this adorable pit puppy made himself at home in my lap, and now I wanna take him home.

Life right now: dog handling, dog walking, dog sitting, dog lusting.  Humans?  Meh.

Something more meaningful and less self-centered forthcoming, perhaps.

Something poignant

marriedtothesea.com

When you’re loved like you are, everything falls into place

I should be in bed. I am going to regret staying up this late when I have to get up in 6 hours. But I have so many things swimming through my head that I can’t even think about sleeping.  Maybe blogging will help?

Easter is about new life, rebirth, new beginnings.  Celebrating life.  Today feels so good, the epitome of the good feeling I’ve had hanging around me for the past month or so.  Like everything is falling into place and the small stuff just sweats itself out.  Things are good, they are changing for the better, and something great is on the horizon.  I can feel it.  I don’t mean to sound like a cheeseball, but I can’t shake it.  Sure there are bad days, but I just brush my shoulders off.

Last night my roommate (not the coworker/friend, but one I don’t know as well) came home from a peace walk with a tiny adorable little bundle of puppy love.  His name is Paz, or Paws, interchangeably, and he is a maybe 6-8 week old Dachshund mix.  Oh oh oh, I am so in love.  All three dogs get along swimmingly, and we now have more non-humans in the house than humans.  Awesome.  I almost rescued a dog from the shelter last week that stole my heart, but I couldn’t actually afford her, on several levels.  It’s good I didn’t, because this little guy was meant to come into our lives.

So in my quest to find the woman of my dreams, I recently turned to Craigslist. It’s ok, you can laugh.  I laugh at myself.  But I figured it was worth a shot, right?  So I posted an ad and actually got several responses - maybe I’m not that lame after all.  I met one of the responders at the dog park (my rendezvous site of choice) yesterday.  It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day, the dogs were cute other than Macy’s usual obnoxious antics, and the people I met were great.  She brought two of her friends, one of whom had a cute bully mix named Owen and with whom I chatted a lot about dogs and our mutual appreciation thereof.  When I got home I did my usual internet stalking of said people, and discovered the creepy small-world-esque connections between us.  My sister said, “There must be thousands of lesbians in the bay area.  How do you always end up associating with the same group of like 20 who all know each other?”  I have no idea.  But I love proof that we are all connected somehow.  Do you ever pass a stranger on the freeway and think, maybe that person will come into my life someday?  Or maybe we have a mutual friend and don’t know it?  There has to be some connection.  I think about it all the time.  I think it’s one of the positive things about the internet.  But maybe that’s another blog post…

Back to the puppy subject (I do interact with humans, I swear):  I am puppy-sitting for a week starting Friday!  I am beyond excited.  My life is going to be full of fuzzy joyful cuddly love.  I forsee dog park trips every day and even more new friends.

I have a theory that part of the reason for my good moods and high energy might be my new diet.  For about three weeks I’ve been trying to eat healthy.  This means eating as close to vegan as I can, cutting out white flours and rice and going with brown, whole grains, etc, giving up regular sugar and high fructose crap for organic alternatives (agave nectar is my new best friend!) and quitting caffeine.  Yes, I did it.  In the last three weeks I’ve had two caffeinated beverages, as opposed to my previous two a day, and I feel awesome.  I have also gotten into riding my bike to work.  I am shooting for four times a week.  Haven’t gotten there yet, but I am trying.  Which reminds me that I need to go to bed.  In considering me for a temporary promotion, my boss challenged me to be on time to work every day for four weeks.  So far I’m doing pretty well… I have been one minute late several days, but that is way better than ten or fifteen or more, which got me written up last month.  Oops.

If you haven’t seen Obama’s race speech, go watch it.  It convinced me to support him.  Another thing to be happy about.

Usually when I get on a high swing like this I am waiting for it to drop.  I’m sure it has to eventually, but this time I feel like it could just keep going.  I guess it could just be the sudden abundance of sunshine, but whatever it is, I’m not complaining.  Thanks, life!

Mo money, mo problems

This neighborhood sure has its charm.  Example, from just a few moments ago.

Dude walking outside my house: Excuse me, mumblemumblemumble.

Me: What?

Dude: Do you have food stamps?

Me: Oh, no, sorry.

Dude: Oh ok. Mumblemumblemumble.

Me: I’m sorry, what?

Dude:  How are you?

Me: Oh, uh, fine thanks.  [Smile, try to walk to my front door.]

Dude:  Do you have a mumble?

Me:  Do I have a what?

Dude:  Do you have a husband?

Me:  No, I don’t. [Try harder to end conversation by moving towards door... He moves that way too.]

Dude:  Well can I have your phone number?

Me:  No, I’m a lesbian.  But thanks.

Dude:  But still, to be friends and stuff.

Me:  Oh, I have plenty of friends.  Thank you though.

Dude:  What’s your name?

Me:  [Try to think of a fake name on the spot, end up just telling him my real one, take comfort in the fact that at least it's not my legal name.]

Dude:  My name is [Joe Schmoe].

Me:  Nice to meet you.  [Handshake.]

Dude:  You’re nice.

Me:  Thanks… so are you.  [Finally escape.]

Sigh.

Baby the skies’ll be blue

It’s been awhile. I have been… well, just doin my thang. You know - singing, working, singing, trying not to run out of money. The usual. Incredibly, I have also been remarkably happy lately, despite (or maybe because of) a few strange events.

My roommate watches a lot of X-Files. So I watch it with her, because it’s on. And I like watching things, and I would rather be in the living room than alone in my room. I had never seen it before. My sister says it’s the “Are You Afraid of the Dark” for grown-ups. I am inclined to agree. Meaning, I’ll keep watching it even though I think it’s pretty ridiculous. And while I usually don’t dig other redheads, I might have a thing for Scully.

There’s some sort of ongoing domestic dispute going on in the apartment downstairs, and a small child is in the middle of it, but I’ve never felt like I witnessed enough evidence to call the cops. Well, one time I saw them ram their cars into each other (’s cars)… I probably should have called the cops then, but there were no people harmed and they’re grownups, theoretically. In other neighborhood news, I dropped my cell phone while riding my bike and it was snatched up before I had a shred of a chance at finding it. Some guy threatened to shoot Buddy for no reason. And I get called gorgeous by old homeless men on a regular basis. I figure a little self esteem boost never hurt anybody.

I’m being considered for a temporary promotion at work, which I figure is better than no promotion at all. It’s a good first step. Something involving a pay raise would be nice, but I think that’ll come.

It’s possible that I’ll be the proud owner, and not just perpetual borrower, of my sexy ride in a few months. Namely, the beat up (my fault) 1997 Plymouth Voyager I ferry kids around in. So picture this, but dingier and with a huge dent in the passenger side door, among other scars:

…ladies.

Speaking of which, my glasses are still taped together. Apparently that is not a deterrent, but the fact that I am intimidating is. Nope, I don’t get it either. Girls are confusing. I think I’ll stick with dogs.

Day after day

So far, 2008 is pretty good.  I am happy with the present, I’m looking ahead a smidge but not enough to freak myself out, and I’m doing pretty well with not looking back.  A few points of interest:

I’m thinking about going back to school.  Vet tech?  Vet?  Either way it will be a challenge since I haven’t taken math or science in 6 years or so.  And I was never that great at it.  But I want to give it a shot, and I kind of miss being in school.  So I’ll probably take algebra or something equally awesome this summer.

My kitties are sickly.  After a couple weeks of battling diarrhea and Hugo peeing on my bed every day (really), and $250 later, things seem to be looking up.  Having to give them oral medicine really sucks for all three of us, but hopefully it’s worth it.  At one point a few weeks ago I was thinking that maybe I am just not cut out for cat ownership and I’m in over my head and I should give them to someone who can take care of them properly… but I love them, and we’ll work it out.  In fact, Oscar is resting his chin on my arm at this very moment. (All together now: “awwww.”)

I love my new house.  I feel grown up, I feel at home.  I love my canine niece and nephew, and living with dogs does wonders for my mood.   We are having a housewarming party in a few weeks and I’m so excited.

Despite the honeymoon period being way way over, I still love my job.  Most days.  It’s a good exercise in self-assessment.  I’m hoping to move up in our little world one of these days.

I’m going to my parents’ in Florida in a couple weeks for grandpa Morty’s 80th birthday party.  My parents are strongly encouraging me to sing him a song, and so I am.  I’m more nervous about singing to my family in my living room than I would be about getting on a stage, oddly.  Despite that I could sing Puff the Magic Dragon and they’d probably cry.

Oh, and I broke my glasses.  They’re held together with tape right now.  I’m sure to get a date this way.

Raise your glass

The bay area bid 2007 farewell with a lovely sunny day and a breathtaking sunset.  I am ready for the next four hours to go by.  At midnight, I’m sure, I’ll magically feel like a new woman.

Despite a few high points, 2007 was without a doubt the worst year of my life so far.  But it’s over.  Can I get an amen?  2008, here I come.  I am so ready to start the hell over.

I came to get down.

I’ve been meaning to blog about my grandma’s funeral - you know, deep, intense, depressing stuff.  But instead, I just have to tell this story.

Ok. So today on my lunch break (I went to Taco Bell - shh, don’t tell), I found a cell phone on the base of a lamp post in the parking lot.  There it sat, just a few inches from my car, so I picked it up and checked it out.  It was beat up but working, and I almost left it, but something (perhaps my psychic ability to predict awesome anecdotes in the making?) told me to pick it up.  I pushed the phone book button and looked up the number for home, which was actually listed as Hóme, and called it from my phone.  I explained what had happened, and some dude said it was his phone and he’d call me back later.

It ended up that we met at the end of my twelve hour shift in front of the Starbucks next to the Taco Bell.  I brought my roommate with me to avoid any possible sketchiness.  So there was phone man, a 40somethingish black man wearing baggy jeans, a brown Roca jacket, and with huge blingy rings on the last two fingers of the hand I saw.  I handed him the phone, and he spouted words of thanks and started reaching in his pocket to fish out some money to give me as thanks.  I refused, telling him it was no problem, just doing the right thing, it’s the holidays, yada yada yada.  No really, yada yada etc.  So instead of cash, he gave me a hug.  He smelled like pot.  And he gave my roommate a handshake, all the while calling us both honey, baby, the works.  What a charmer.

I wished him happy holidays and we walked back to our cars.  My roommate said, “Man, he was barking up the wrong tree!” I said, “Seriously - the gay tree.”  But I was thinking, nah, he couldn’t possibly have been interested in me.  Surely I exude The Gay, especially after I chopped my hair off the other day.  Or if not the gay, at least the Not Interested.  And let’s face it, I know I don’t fit any hetero male pop culture whatever beauty standards.  Plus I just got off a twelve hour shift, hadn’t showered in a few days, and smelled like dog.  Hot.

Bet you saw this coming.  Half an hour later, if that, he called me again.  I didn’t pick up, but listened to the voicemail.  “Hey, this is the guy with the phone.  Listen, can you please call me back when you get this message?  I wanna axe you a question.”  Oh, jesus.  I knew I shouldn’t call him back, but for the little voice inside me that reminded me how damn funny it would be if I did.  So I did.

He picked up and again showered me with profuse thanks, which I again shrugged off, and kept saying “Man, I feel like I owe you.”  No, really.  Wait for it…

“Do you have a man?”

Ten points for bluntness.  I couldn’t think of anything witty to say, so I said “Uh… nope. Sure don’t.”  I don’t remember all the details of the rest of the conversation because I was concentrating so hard on trying not to crack up, but he said something about wanting to take me to the club, I believe, more about owing me, me saying “I’m flattered, but I was really just being nice.”  He told me his name was Anthony, and signed off by reminding me that I have his number.

I’ll keep that in mind, Anthony.

Sedimentary in my bedrock

I am barely holding it together.

Summary: still sick, still brokenrib, running out of drugs, bitches at work, moving, too much singing, not enough sleep,  too many tears, not enough hugs, flaky people, cat piss in my bed, broke, falling behind.

And I found out last night that my grandma is dying.  I haven’t seen her in a few years and now I’ll never see her again.  Recently I have been realizing that I don’t know that much about my family.   We’re not the tight-lipped straight-laced don’t-talk-about-anything-important southern midwestern sorts… and yet, we don’t really talk about much that’s important.  At least, it’s not talked about with the younger ones.  We mostly joke, tease, laugh.  I didn’t know much of anything important about my grandpa until he came to visit me out here last year.  None of my grandparents ever did that supposedly stereotypical grandparent thing where they sit you down on their knee and tell you about their life.  They just made me food, bought me things, let me watch Nickelodeon on their TVs and took me to Broadway plays.  And now I am running out of time to find out about their lives, and it suddenly feels important.  I don’t even really know where my grandma is from.  I guess I can hope that people will talk about her after she is gone, as people tend to do.

This is the first close family member  I’ve lost since my other grandpa died when I was 7.  I didn’t really know him and my sister and I didn’t go to the funeral.  I have never been to a funeral of a relative before.  I am sad, nervous, worried about my dad… and also, admittedly, although I suppose it’s kind of twisted to be thinking about this now, I am sort of hoping I get to go to the funeral because I really miss my family.  I wonder if laughter will get us through this one.

On a completely unrelated note, this video cheers me up immensely.

If a girl ever writes me a song that includes really awesomely bad puns and cute riffs and sings it to me wearing a dinosaur suit, well… that’s pretty much equivalent to a marriage proposal in my book.

Life is funny.  Two weeks later, I am moving back out.  I got a house with a coworker, her boyfriend, their two dogs, and a couple other random people.  So much for staying here awhile to save money.  But I didn’t want to pass up what seems like the right situation.  Well, at least, I hope it is.  I haven’t met two of the people and I haven’t seen the place… but I can’t stay here forever.  And at least the chances of them dating anyone I know is slim to none, so there’s an improvement over last time.  It’s in Oakland, and I’m so glad to be heading back there.  The other day I went to the gas station and it was me, 3 Mercedes, and a Saab.