I’m not sure what I expected from life in the big city of my dreams, but I don’t think it was this.  I feel bored, lost, unexciting, unworthy.  Hence the dearth of blogging, perhaps.  One part of me just wants to pick up and move and try somewhere else.  But the other voice says no no, you’re just getting restless because you’ve been here for awhile.  Make some changes, make your life what you want it to be.  Don’t give up on the bay.  And then the other voice says why not?  Move to another country for awhile, go on an adventure while you still can.

My aunt bought a house in Collingswood, New Jersey and wants me to come live with her.  Weirdly enough, I’m rather tempted.  Sure there’s the free/cheap rent factor, but Collingswood seems like a pretty cool town, and I’m getting disillusioned with city life in general.  I’ve been able to hear a freeway from my bed for 2 years.  Then again it’s a short train ride to Philly, a new city waiting for me to explore it.  And it’s close to lots of family members I miss, and closer than California is to everything I miss about the east coast.  But, enter voice of reason:  I have no friends there,  I hate the humidity, and I’d miss the bay area immensely as soon as I left.

In conclusion, I’m a little conflicted, obviously.  I’ve given myself a time frame, which should help.  I’ll stay at my job and in my apartment until I’ve been at both a year, which is September.  Then I’ll decide whether to stay or go.

I’m a little smitten with my current foster dog, who’s been living with me for almost three months now.  Her name is Daphne, and she might be my soulmate.  But if I adopt her, adventure plans go down the tube; I’d be settled down.

I just met my third foster dog, who is coming to stay here tomorrow.  He is a nervous adult pit bull so his chances of being snatched up fast are probably slim.  But I thought that about the last two and I had each less than six weeks.  Some dogs at Home At Last (the rescue organization I foster through) have been in their foster homes waaaay longer.

My first foster dog was Trisha.

I was completely opinionless about her at first, and she wasn’t the dog I had wanted to foster.  Plus she didn’t get along with the other dogs in my old house at first, even made Macy’s ear bleed once.  But we slowed things down and everybody was friendly eventually, and I ended up falling in love with her.  I’m sure I would have adopted her if someone else hadn’t done it first, but c’est la vie.  Her name is now Truckee and her new family loves her to pieces.  I miss her.

Next was Gatsby, who was originally named Bouncy.  He was a big goof, recovering (psychologically) from months of abuse and six months at the shelter.

He came a long way while I had him, and was loved by everybody who met him.  Really, there wasn’t anything not to love about him.  He was sweet, mellow, and affectionate, great with kids, dogs, cats, everybody.  I miss him too.

And tomorrow, enter Puppy.  Who is not a puppy.  Possibly an even dumber name than Bouncy.  I’ll be coming up with a new one after I know him.

All I know about him is that he lived with the same family for two-ish years, and they recently had to give him up abruptly – landlord problems after a foreclosure or other financial issue, I think.  That is the reason why a lot of shelters are filling up right now.  But I digress.  I just met him and he was sweet, but very nervous.  He’s understandably shaken up about his change in circumstances, and shy with strangers.  So we’ll see what happens.  He’s up for adoption!

It’s incredibly rewarding to rescue these dogs from bad situations and show them what a loving home is like, and then send them to one forever.  But is is a bit rough on the heart.  I bawled my eyes out when Trisha left me.  But then, I cry at lots of things these days, so that’s not really saying much.

Two days ago I turned 24.  Which means I just completed my 24th year of existence.  24 is my lucky number, so this birthday meant a lot to me.  Corny, perhaps, but I think I was just eager to assign some meaning to this one.  Numbers 22 and 23 were pretty shitty as birthdays go – I spent them in various states of depressed and lonely – especially after the elation of my 21st.  But this one redeemed those two.  I spent it with a small group of friends who reminded me how lucky and loved I am, even when I drink too much beer and get a little goofy.  And the following day I got more reminders of how lucky I am in the form of love from the four-legged friends I get paid to spend time with, who kissed my hangover away.

I like to review my life in lists now and again.  So, a list about my 24th year.  In the past year, I:

Moved three times, until finally settling in my current place.  It feels peaceful, and it feels like home.  Finally.

Made more friends than I lost, especially if you count the four-legged ones.

Helped a few homeless dogs find loving homes.

Spent my first Christmas away from my family.

Laid my grandmother to rest.

Spent three months bathing dogs.

Changed jobs, saving my emotional health.

Was single for the whole year.

And, most importantly perhaps, witnessed the election of Barack Hussein Obama.

I wish I could put into words how I felt watching Obama and his family ascending the stage with his family.  My heart swelled, my eyes leaked, and I felt like I was a part of something big.  I wasn’t alone in that feeling, as was evident from the joy in the streets we saw as we drove through Berkeley and Oakland after his victory.  It’s not something I’m going to forget, and I’m looking forward to telling my kids about it.

I can’t say anything about the election that hasn’t yet been said.  It’s just amazing.

And then there’s the bitter disappointment mixed into the elation, at California’s passing of Proposition 8.  But I know our fight isn’t over.  Half a century ago, Obama’s family in the white house would have been dismissed as a ridiculous thought.  But there they are.  So I know victory will come for us queers too.  Which is not to say we should sit around and wait, but that if we keep fighting, our change will happen.

So thanks to my friends and to everybody who voted for the best week ever, and for a pretty good year.

Has it really been six months since I last blogged? Yes, it seems that it has.  I’m not so sure it matters to anyone except perhaps Ms. Miller.  But I decided to give renewal a try.  Blog renewal, that is, although there is some life renewal going on too.

Here is a quick life summary of the last six months.

In May, I got a promotion, sort of, from dog handler to bather, and started spending all day alone in a small, stuffy room torturing (bathing and nail clipping and anal gland expressing) very unhappy doggies.  It involved silly things like fluffing a Bichon Frise’s head fluff.  I became “the evil bath lady” and lots of dogs started running the other direction when I came their way.  The flexible hours and two bucks more an hour started to seem not so worth it.

So in July, I gave my two weeks notice.  I was leaving on great terms until the evil owner of the company showed her true colors, and I was extra glad to be leaving.  I sometimes miss some of the doggies, but generally I am thrilled to have moved on.

Somewhere in there, I surrendered Hugo to the shelter.  It was an incredibly hard decision but I’m sure it was the right one.  After being at the humane society for awhile, he recently got adopted, so I’m sure he’s super happy in his new dog-free home.  And I don’t have to wash the urine smell out of everything I own anymore.  Sweet.

In August, I went to play at camp for two weeks.  It was emotionally and physically trying to be back there.  But among painful self-examination and asthma attacks, I got to breathe mountain air, see the stars, be with my best friend, and ride a horse a few times.

The next week I was trying to decide between two job offers from two of my former work’s competitors (yeah!), a spot I’d never been in before.  I’m sure I made the right choice, and even though I’m dirt poor, I love my new job.  I have new favorite coworkers and lots of new favorite doggies.

I also have a new studio apartment.  My own space, no five roommates to be frustrated with, no four crazy dogs keeping me from having my own.  It is tiny, but affordable, in a great, pet-friendly building in a cool area.  I don’t have internet, but that’s ok because right now I’m using it for free outside of a walking-distance cafe with ample people-watching opportunities.

Remember Maria from my last post?  Well unfortunately her new home didn’t work out.  She went back to the shelter and was put to sleep.  Really, really, incredibly sad.  But as queen of the silver lining, I have to think it’s a blessing that she enjoyed some love for her last couple months.  In July, I started taking doggy lifesaving matters into my own hands, and rescued a sweet, beautiful pit named Trisha from the shelter.  I fostered her for less than two months until she got adopted by a wonderful family.  If she hadn’t, I probably would have kept her.  I was smitten.  Now I’m a week into my second foster dog, Gatsby.  He is a very cute, chubby, Heinz 57 sort of pooch with the sweetest, mellowest disposition ever.  Makes you wonder why his previous people abused him so badly.  They really damaged him, so I’m working on teaching him that life is a-ok.  He’s doing well and learning a lot, as am I.  He is one big hairy life lesson in patience for me.

Conclusion… usually I’m broke, sometimes I’m lonely, occasionally I get sad, but on the whole life is good and I am thankful.  I am looking forward to seeing my family in two and a half weeks.  And enjoying being back in the blogosphere.  I’ll post something less self-absorbed soon, honest.

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.

marriedtothesea.com

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!

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.

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.

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.