So I went in for my CAT scan yesterday. And that is a memory which will live in infamy in the deep, dark recesses of my nightmares. Ok, maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but it was still an ordeal. But you know what they say - bad times usually make good stories.
So I had called my friend Sandy to see if her driver was available to take me to my appointment. Luckily he was, but it was gonna be close timing-wise since Sandy and her three sons all had dentist appointments which were supposed to end just before I needed to leave for my appointment. Well, LUCKILY they came straight from the dentist's to my house. I say luckily because had Sandy not been there to go into the Clinica with me, it would have been an even bigger nightmare. As it was, Sandy was able to help me through the first few hoops I had to jump through.
We entered the building, and fairly easily found the sign pointing to the Tomographia (CT Scan) area. Technically the building itself is called a Clinica, which made me think it would be like a clinic in the US - a smaller, specialized medical building. Well this place was a big ol' zoo! Not as big as a hospital, but much bigger than a clinic. To top it off, it was textbook organized chaos. Once you figured out how everything works, yes, it kind of makes a convoluted kind of sense, but to just walk into it was sensory overload. There were people milling around in all sorts of lines, and there were people sitting in waiting areas governed by a number system. After waiting at the "Tomographia" desk for several minutes, we learned that I had to first pay for my procedure at a different place. So we tracked down that place, only to be told that we need to get a number to be able to pay, and the numbers were only available at reception. So we trucked back to reception and got a number and walked back to the pay area. At this point Sandy left, made sure I had her phone number, and wished me the utmost luck.
So I waited for about 30 minutes until my number was called. In my pathetic halting Spanish I was able to give the woman behind the glass my information (on its own, speaking to someone behind a giant pane of glass is difficult. Try doing it in a foreign language you haven't even begun to master!). I think she glossed over a lot of the information that's usually required, and I noticed that my birthday got listed as October 2, 1978, but beggars can't be choosers. So once you give the woman your information, she then prints out a sheet that needs to be taken to the cashier. Now, when I initially made this appointment, I asked how much it would cost. I was informed that it would be 6000 pesos, which is just over $200. Pretty damn steep for an unemployed sponge, but still better than the 10,000 pesos I was quoted by the other two places I called. So imagine my surprise when the cashier told me to pay 10, 200 pesos! Yeah, 6000 plus the cost of the dye used in the procedure, plus the cost of administering the dye. Luckily I had taken every single peso that I had to the appointment with me, but when he gave me the total, I honestly didn't know if I had enough. As I counted it out, I serious had just - JUST - enough to pay for it. I brought every single peso I had with me, and I left with 200 pesos in my pocket. That's about six dollars. Yikes.
So having averted that disaster, I then went back to the "Tomography" desk, showed them that I had paid, and was given a number and told to sit down. After another 30 minutes of waiting, I finally got called in.
Then ensued a farcical episode in which I didn't understand which articles of clothing the nurse wanted me to remove and basically ended up being undressed by the nurse who then laughed as I fumbled with the gown and tried to get me to give her my shirt (I think she seriously wanted me to give her my shirt!). I was told to sit as the nurse put a giant needle into my arm where the dye injection would eventually go. I was led into a sub-zero waiting area and told to consume four glasses of water. While chugging and freezing my arse off, I kept hearing all these alarms going off and was, admittedly, more than a little intimidated by this needle sticking in my arm and the thought of some creepy dye eventually going into me.
Finally they came to get my cold butt and water-logged belly and took me into the room where the CT scans were done. Of course, the nurse again spoke no English, so I just kind of had to do what I thought he wanted me to do and hope I was doing it right. I lied down and he had me put my arms over my head, he then attached the dye tube to the needle in my arm and, holy uncomfortable feeling of the stuff being injected! Yeah, it hurt, and man, did it ever hurt, but it wasn't so much the pain as it was just...freaky. I did not like it, not one little bit. So then the machine starts to whirr and a voice comes on through an intercom on the machine. A voice not only through a crappy intercom, but in Spanish. So, of course, I have no freaking idea what was just said to me. I figured it was probably telling me to be still, and hey, if I was doing something wrong, eventually somebody would come in and tell me so, right? So the machine whirred and clicked and then my arm throbbed again as they must have pushed the button that squirts even more creepy dye into my system. Except then I had a strange cool feeling at the back of my head. When the nurse came in to let me out of the machine, he discovered that the dye tube had leaked, and was coating the back of my head and part of my back. Now, it's not an actual dye - it's not bright green or anything (as I had pictured it), it's clear, but that was a small condolence considering that my head was soaked in it. Luckily enough dye had gone into my system and we didn't have to repeat the process. So I was told it was ok and I could go.
I went and changed back into my clothes, and sat down at the nurse's station to have the needle removed from my arm. Well the nurses went to and fro, and to and fro, and to and fro, and after about 20 minutes I finally had to flag one down and ask for it to be removed.
And at long last I was free to go - and FLEE I did!
Phew.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Level Up!
So I'm a week into my solitude, the family left a week ago and it's just been me and the dogs. I thought I'd been going nuts at this point, but I actually kind of like it. I have this huge house all to myself - yeah, this solitude suits me. Heh, I did have one visitor - some random guy stopped by to fix the internet. I wasn't going to let him in, but he had the Claro (the company name) truck and badge and outfit and showed me the work order with Dave's info on it, so I let him in. He spent the next 30 minutes
A) Fixing the internet
and
B) Trying to get me to go on a date with him
Now, mind you, he spoke NO English, and I speak incredibly bad Spanish. He was not going let something as pithy as no common language stand in his way though! I just wanted to sink to my knees and scream, "I'm a lesbian! Just leave me alone!" I know it's a silly thing to complain about, but I'm so sick of feeling like a seal swimming in a sea of sharks whenever I go out (and now, apparently, even when I'm home). Every time I go out, almost everyone just stares and stares at me. It's like the women are thinking, "what the hell are you doing here, gringa?" and the men are thinking, "what the hell are you doing here, gringa? And is there any chance I can fuck you?" It's like they have radar - "Attention! A cute, white, single, American girl is approaching! Maybe you can marry her and go live in the US, and if not, at least maybe you can get her in bed!" No wonder I like this solitude!
My other great story goes like this - so I've been having some GI issues (not army men, my stomach) so my sister scheduled an appointment with a specialist. I went to see him, and he told me he was going to have me get a CAT scan and some blood work. So I go to the front desk and they just look at me like I'm a virus. So I mention that the doctor said I needed the scan and the blood tests, and they're like, "so?"
Me - "well, um, where do I get those done?"
Receptionist - "here"
Me - "like this office?"
Receptionist (looking at me like I just crawled out of the primordial ooze) - "No. The blood work you can have done downstairs, the CAT scan you have to have elsewhere."
Me - "Oh, ok. Can you recommend a place?"
Receptionist (writes down a list of three places) - "You HAVE to get it done at one of these three places."
This is how things go in the DR, it's like they fuck with you on purpose. It's like a computer game; you have to ask all the right questions, and only when you've done that and jumped through the hoops can you advance to the next level. But wait! It gets better. I schedule a CAT scan, but between the blood work and the CAT scan it's going to be more cash than I had (I guess according to Joan, you NEVER want to use a credit card here) so I scheme a plan where I go to the US Embassy (there's a bank there you can get money at), then go to the clinic to get the blood work done. There's one particular test that I needed to bring with me to the CAT scan, so I needed to get it done before the CAT scan (which is today) but not more than three days in advance, so I decided that Tuesday would be a good day to do it. Well Tuesday comes and I go to the Embassy, only to find that the bank is closed because there's a "hurricane," which here in Santo Domingo resulted in some grey, Seattle winter-like drizzle (only warmer). Any excuse to not go in to work... So, ok, at least I had enough money for the blood work, I could still get that done. The day I had the initial consultation with the GI doctor, I went down to the clinic and asked how much the blood work would cost. They looked over the tests and gave me a price. (A very pricey price, actually.) So I get to the clinic and show them the list of tests that need to be done, and the woman asks, "oh, have you eaten breakfast today?" And I'm like, "yeah." And she says, "well some of these tests can't be done unless you have an empty stomach. You need to come back on a day when you haven't eaten breakfast." Cue head hitting the counter. Also cue a slight panic since one of the tests I NEEDED for the CAT scan two days later. So luckily that test doesn't have to be done on an empty stomach. Ok, so I ask to just have that one done. The woman takes the blood sample, and I ask when the results will be ready. "Three days." She says. Cue more panic, I explain to her again that the CAT scan is in two days, and I need to bring the results with me. Finally she understands what I'm trying to explain and is able to do a rush on it. All of this done in my horrible, pidgin Spanish. Nothing like the deep end to help teach you to swim.
A) Fixing the internet
and
B) Trying to get me to go on a date with him
Now, mind you, he spoke NO English, and I speak incredibly bad Spanish. He was not going let something as pithy as no common language stand in his way though! I just wanted to sink to my knees and scream, "I'm a lesbian! Just leave me alone!" I know it's a silly thing to complain about, but I'm so sick of feeling like a seal swimming in a sea of sharks whenever I go out (and now, apparently, even when I'm home). Every time I go out, almost everyone just stares and stares at me. It's like the women are thinking, "what the hell are you doing here, gringa?" and the men are thinking, "what the hell are you doing here, gringa? And is there any chance I can fuck you?" It's like they have radar - "Attention! A cute, white, single, American girl is approaching! Maybe you can marry her and go live in the US, and if not, at least maybe you can get her in bed!" No wonder I like this solitude!
My other great story goes like this - so I've been having some GI issues (not army men, my stomach) so my sister scheduled an appointment with a specialist. I went to see him, and he told me he was going to have me get a CAT scan and some blood work. So I go to the front desk and they just look at me like I'm a virus. So I mention that the doctor said I needed the scan and the blood tests, and they're like, "so?"
Me - "well, um, where do I get those done?"
Receptionist - "here"
Me - "like this office?"
Receptionist (looking at me like I just crawled out of the primordial ooze) - "No. The blood work you can have done downstairs, the CAT scan you have to have elsewhere."
Me - "Oh, ok. Can you recommend a place?"
Receptionist (writes down a list of three places) - "You HAVE to get it done at one of these three places."
This is how things go in the DR, it's like they fuck with you on purpose. It's like a computer game; you have to ask all the right questions, and only when you've done that and jumped through the hoops can you advance to the next level. But wait! It gets better. I schedule a CAT scan, but between the blood work and the CAT scan it's going to be more cash than I had (I guess according to Joan, you NEVER want to use a credit card here) so I scheme a plan where I go to the US Embassy (there's a bank there you can get money at), then go to the clinic to get the blood work done. There's one particular test that I needed to bring with me to the CAT scan, so I needed to get it done before the CAT scan (which is today) but not more than three days in advance, so I decided that Tuesday would be a good day to do it. Well Tuesday comes and I go to the Embassy, only to find that the bank is closed because there's a "hurricane," which here in Santo Domingo resulted in some grey, Seattle winter-like drizzle (only warmer). Any excuse to not go in to work... So, ok, at least I had enough money for the blood work, I could still get that done. The day I had the initial consultation with the GI doctor, I went down to the clinic and asked how much the blood work would cost. They looked over the tests and gave me a price. (A very pricey price, actually.) So I get to the clinic and show them the list of tests that need to be done, and the woman asks, "oh, have you eaten breakfast today?" And I'm like, "yeah." And she says, "well some of these tests can't be done unless you have an empty stomach. You need to come back on a day when you haven't eaten breakfast." Cue head hitting the counter. Also cue a slight panic since one of the tests I NEEDED for the CAT scan two days later. So luckily that test doesn't have to be done on an empty stomach. Ok, so I ask to just have that one done. The woman takes the blood sample, and I ask when the results will be ready. "Three days." She says. Cue more panic, I explain to her again that the CAT scan is in two days, and I need to bring the results with me. Finally she understands what I'm trying to explain and is able to do a rush on it. All of this done in my horrible, pidgin Spanish. Nothing like the deep end to help teach you to swim.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Is My Cute Button Broken?
Why would anyone want a puppy? It makes absolutely no sense to me. Oh yes - sign me up for an uncontrollable ball of energy who's going to poop and pee everywhere, who you'll have to send hours training and who's going to disrupt your schedule. Why? Because it's cute? Here the thing though...
puppies = so not cute
I look at puppies and I see a nightmare. A vision that has proven true beyond a shadow of a doubt with Ned. I never wanted a puppy, I don't like puppies, and trying to raise Ned is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Not hard in the "building the pyramids" sense, hard in the emotional sense. My great failing is that I get frustrated so easily. Maybe that's why I have an in-born internal mechanism for not thinking puppies are cute; somewhere inside of me it just knew that I couldn't handle it. I feel like Jekyll and Hyde, I understand that he's a puppy and the house is already covered in urine markings from the other poorly behaved dogs so I shouldn't expect him to be good at being house broken, but it's just so frustrating. I've been working so hard for so many weeks now, and I obviously Ned gets the basic gist of it - he's especially good at holding it over night, and always is a superstar about waiting until we get outside to eliminate - but what I don't get is the times where I'll take him out, ask him to pee, show him the pee mat, wait, and when I'm finally convinced that he really doesn't have to pee , take him inside where he then pees on the floor. I've known so many dog owners in my life that love to wax on and on about how smart dogs are... um... really? It drives me nuts - if the dogs can hear a paper being rustled in the kitchen and come running because "noises in kitchen = possibility of food" why can they get it straight that "peeing outside = happy owner, peeing inside = enraged crazy owner." I read and read and re-read all the damn websites on how to train your puppy. I've done it over and over and over... crate, outside, pee, reward, crate, outside, pee, reward... but it seems like the second I give Ned any sort of trust, he turns right around and makes me regret it. This is not a healthy situation for me to be in. I can only hope that one day I'll realize how much this made me grow and helped me to learn about blah blah blah.
For the record...
Rats = extremely cute
Possums = cute
Bats = cute
Yes, there seems to be something wrong with my cute button. And I like it that way.
puppies = so not cute
I look at puppies and I see a nightmare. A vision that has proven true beyond a shadow of a doubt with Ned. I never wanted a puppy, I don't like puppies, and trying to raise Ned is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Not hard in the "building the pyramids" sense, hard in the emotional sense. My great failing is that I get frustrated so easily. Maybe that's why I have an in-born internal mechanism for not thinking puppies are cute; somewhere inside of me it just knew that I couldn't handle it. I feel like Jekyll and Hyde, I understand that he's a puppy and the house is already covered in urine markings from the other poorly behaved dogs so I shouldn't expect him to be good at being house broken, but it's just so frustrating. I've been working so hard for so many weeks now, and I obviously Ned gets the basic gist of it - he's especially good at holding it over night, and always is a superstar about waiting until we get outside to eliminate - but what I don't get is the times where I'll take him out, ask him to pee, show him the pee mat, wait, and when I'm finally convinced that he really doesn't have to pee , take him inside where he then pees on the floor. I've known so many dog owners in my life that love to wax on and on about how smart dogs are... um... really? It drives me nuts - if the dogs can hear a paper being rustled in the kitchen and come running because "noises in kitchen = possibility of food" why can they get it straight that "peeing outside = happy owner, peeing inside = enraged crazy owner." I read and read and re-read all the damn websites on how to train your puppy. I've done it over and over and over... crate, outside, pee, reward, crate, outside, pee, reward... but it seems like the second I give Ned any sort of trust, he turns right around and makes me regret it. This is not a healthy situation for me to be in. I can only hope that one day I'll realize how much this made me grow and helped me to learn about blah blah blah.
For the record...
Rats = extremely cute
Possums = cute
Bats = cute
Yes, there seems to be something wrong with my cute button. And I like it that way.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Dogs, Hurricanes and Solitude
So my family is away from the homestead for two weeks, and it's just me and the dogs. Oh and the hurricane. But the hurricane hasn't hit yet, so for now it's me and the dogs. The first 24 hours was rough. Neuf was the poster child for separation anxiety, and vomited twice, and between Jack, Neuf and the newbie, Ned, I probably ended up cleaning up about 6-8 pee puddles - one right on top of one of the vomit pools. To top it all off, we recently changed Ned's puppy food, so at 4 in the morning the poor guy was hit with a bout of diarrhea, and ended up having to take a fat, gooey dump on my bathroom rug. Luckily after that first 24 hours, everything seems to have calmed down.
I find that I'm really enjoying this solitude. Due to the path my life has followed, I've led something of an extroverted life. Especially in the past few years, I've really forced myself to get out and be social, when in reality, I'm really I big ol' homebody. I like people, I like talking and getting to know folks, but when it comes down to it - I'm so much happier not having to chat and be social. My brother-in-law keeps mentioning how I must feel so trapped here, and forced to live on their schedule, which includes early, early mornings and not a lot of social time. I keep assuring him that it actually fits in quite nicely with my lifestyle. I wouldn't necessarily call myself a morning person, but I do like waking up when the sun comes up and going to bed soon after the sun has gone down. It seems very in tune with the world's rhythms. There are times when I get into the swing of staying up until 2am and sleeping in, but I guess I just adapt to my situation.
One very nice thing about this solitude is that I've been able to record a lot of my songs. I always feel nervous singing when other people are in hearing distance - a fear that proved itself valid after my sister said some things about my singing that, I'm sure were meant to be helpful, but just ended up being hurtful. So it's nice to have everyone away so that I can feel free to experiment and not be worried about being overheard. I'm continually surprised when I play back the songs I recorded... I actually LIKE them. I like the sound of my voice - and those of you who know me know that's a HUGE step for me. For those of you who don't know me, well, I've battled all my life with the "I can't sing" complex, so to finally be producing something I can listen to and enjoy is awesome. Plus, I live being a songwriter. I've said to people before - I've been a poet for years, but now that I can play the guitar I write songs. In my experience, people are A LOT more open to hearing a song than they are to listening to a poem! It's so nice when you can be so proud of something you've made.
I find that I'm really enjoying this solitude. Due to the path my life has followed, I've led something of an extroverted life. Especially in the past few years, I've really forced myself to get out and be social, when in reality, I'm really I big ol' homebody. I like people, I like talking and getting to know folks, but when it comes down to it - I'm so much happier not having to chat and be social. My brother-in-law keeps mentioning how I must feel so trapped here, and forced to live on their schedule, which includes early, early mornings and not a lot of social time. I keep assuring him that it actually fits in quite nicely with my lifestyle. I wouldn't necessarily call myself a morning person, but I do like waking up when the sun comes up and going to bed soon after the sun has gone down. It seems very in tune with the world's rhythms. There are times when I get into the swing of staying up until 2am and sleeping in, but I guess I just adapt to my situation.
One very nice thing about this solitude is that I've been able to record a lot of my songs. I always feel nervous singing when other people are in hearing distance - a fear that proved itself valid after my sister said some things about my singing that, I'm sure were meant to be helpful, but just ended up being hurtful. So it's nice to have everyone away so that I can feel free to experiment and not be worried about being overheard. I'm continually surprised when I play back the songs I recorded... I actually LIKE them. I like the sound of my voice - and those of you who know me know that's a HUGE step for me. For those of you who don't know me, well, I've battled all my life with the "I can't sing" complex, so to finally be producing something I can listen to and enjoy is awesome. Plus, I live being a songwriter. I've said to people before - I've been a poet for years, but now that I can play the guitar I write songs. In my experience, people are A LOT more open to hearing a song than they are to listening to a poem! It's so nice when you can be so proud of something you've made.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
What's so bad about conflict avoidance?
My sister is great. She's amazing, I love her so much and I'm so proud of her I could puke. She's accomplished so much in her life. I'm in awe and envious of her a lot of the time. The flip side is that she's stubborn and fairly single-minded. Her way is the best, or if not her way, then something very similar. On the straight and narrow. Bare bones. 1+1=2.
I am not that way.
I will never be that way, but by god, she's gonna try, isn't she?
I'm sure most families are like this; it's kind of the family stereotype, really. I think for the most part my family tends towards the fairly ok side. I LOVE each and every one of my family members and I may have my own opinions of their lifestyle choices, but I also feel that they are their own unique selves and get to make their own decisions. I might say something if I really feel a particular way, but for the most part, I keep my mouth shut, and I don't question then because I know that everyone sees things just a little bit (or sometimes a lot) differently from everyone else.
My sister thinks I'm passive-aggressive. Yes. She's probably right. When I moved to the west coast, especially Seattle, I heard so much about how p-a Seattle is. And I kept thinking to myself, "passive-aggressive? Really?" Because it seems to me that what is know as "passive-aggressive" behavior is really just being polite. Ok, well let me differentiate. Always being passive-aggressive and "pretending" to be nice while secretly bubbling in a mire of loathing is not so good. I'm talking more about not getting in someone's face if they say or do something you don't like. I talking about respecting that other people have different ideas and opinions and not confronting them just because yours may differ. I'm talking about actually trying to talk out a problem rather than yelling it out. It's not pretending that an issue isn't there or not talking about it, it's talking about it without screaming and hostility. From where I stand, I want nothing to do with aggressive, hostile behavior. I despise it. If someone comes at me with a hostile attitude, I shut down. My pulse quickens, my stomach grips, and it's like a flat-line in my brain. I am incapable of engaging in an argument. Now, y'all can psycho-analyze this into the ground, nature/nurture, blah blah blah. It's the way I am. I LIKE being this way. I do not want to cause conflict, I do not seek out conflict, if there is conflict in my circle, I do my best to resolve it. I understand the sometimes conflict is a good thing, and sometimes it's been thrust upon me and has been very beneficial. But there are some people who eat, drink and breathe conflict, and due to their very nature - think everyone else should be like that too. They assume that you are a weaker, lesser being if you don't argue about everything, and often it seems like they think that by being upfront and aggressive they are somehow more in touch with their feelings than polite people.
There are people I know who argue a lot. For them it IS therapeutic, it's how they communicate, it's their nature. I understand that they methods are different from mine, and as a result, I don't tend to be close friends with those kinds of people. But then there's family... ah yes, the stereotype... you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. What happens when family members have differing communication styles? Well, I think we've all seen what happens, almost every family I know has turmoil, and I think it's due in most part to lack of similar communication. It's just the way it is, and I think the only thing that you can do about it is try your best to see things from another perspective. There have been times here when I've gotten FURIOUS with something my sister said, because in my mind it was a huge insult. But I've held my tongue and when I got the chance to simmer down and re-examine things from how I know she operates, I've realized that what I took to be an insult was just her being direct with me. I'm not saying that my sister never does this in my case, but I do wish she'd be a little more understanding when we talk about touchy subjects and not insist that her way of communicating is best. And yet, I know that is part of her nature too, and I have two basic options -
1) Get really fed up and leave.
or
2) Suck it up and do my best to maintain a great relationship with my only sister who is letting me stay in her beautiful house for free and not to mention feeding me and allowing me an amazing opportunity to live in another country.
So, what have I learned from this? I like the way I am. I like my communication style. Sure there are things I can work on, and I appreciate being made aware of those things, but ultimately it's my decision. So often we are so unaware of what makes us tick in the first place, trying to have a conversation with another person about touchy stuff can be one of the hardest things in the world. Especially when you know that person doesn't think in the same ways you do.
I am not that way.
I will never be that way, but by god, she's gonna try, isn't she?
I'm sure most families are like this; it's kind of the family stereotype, really. I think for the most part my family tends towards the fairly ok side. I LOVE each and every one of my family members and I may have my own opinions of their lifestyle choices, but I also feel that they are their own unique selves and get to make their own decisions. I might say something if I really feel a particular way, but for the most part, I keep my mouth shut, and I don't question then because I know that everyone sees things just a little bit (or sometimes a lot) differently from everyone else.
My sister thinks I'm passive-aggressive. Yes. She's probably right. When I moved to the west coast, especially Seattle, I heard so much about how p-a Seattle is. And I kept thinking to myself, "passive-aggressive? Really?" Because it seems to me that what is know as "passive-aggressive" behavior is really just being polite. Ok, well let me differentiate. Always being passive-aggressive and "pretending" to be nice while secretly bubbling in a mire of loathing is not so good. I'm talking more about not getting in someone's face if they say or do something you don't like. I talking about respecting that other people have different ideas and opinions and not confronting them just because yours may differ. I'm talking about actually trying to talk out a problem rather than yelling it out. It's not pretending that an issue isn't there or not talking about it, it's talking about it without screaming and hostility. From where I stand, I want nothing to do with aggressive, hostile behavior. I despise it. If someone comes at me with a hostile attitude, I shut down. My pulse quickens, my stomach grips, and it's like a flat-line in my brain. I am incapable of engaging in an argument. Now, y'all can psycho-analyze this into the ground, nature/nurture, blah blah blah. It's the way I am. I LIKE being this way. I do not want to cause conflict, I do not seek out conflict, if there is conflict in my circle, I do my best to resolve it. I understand the sometimes conflict is a good thing, and sometimes it's been thrust upon me and has been very beneficial. But there are some people who eat, drink and breathe conflict, and due to their very nature - think everyone else should be like that too. They assume that you are a weaker, lesser being if you don't argue about everything, and often it seems like they think that by being upfront and aggressive they are somehow more in touch with their feelings than polite people.
There are people I know who argue a lot. For them it IS therapeutic, it's how they communicate, it's their nature. I understand that they methods are different from mine, and as a result, I don't tend to be close friends with those kinds of people. But then there's family... ah yes, the stereotype... you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. What happens when family members have differing communication styles? Well, I think we've all seen what happens, almost every family I know has turmoil, and I think it's due in most part to lack of similar communication. It's just the way it is, and I think the only thing that you can do about it is try your best to see things from another perspective. There have been times here when I've gotten FURIOUS with something my sister said, because in my mind it was a huge insult. But I've held my tongue and when I got the chance to simmer down and re-examine things from how I know she operates, I've realized that what I took to be an insult was just her being direct with me. I'm not saying that my sister never does this in my case, but I do wish she'd be a little more understanding when we talk about touchy subjects and not insist that her way of communicating is best. And yet, I know that is part of her nature too, and I have two basic options -
1) Get really fed up and leave.
or
2) Suck it up and do my best to maintain a great relationship with my only sister who is letting me stay in her beautiful house for free and not to mention feeding me and allowing me an amazing opportunity to live in another country.
So, what have I learned from this? I like the way I am. I like my communication style. Sure there are things I can work on, and I appreciate being made aware of those things, but ultimately it's my decision. So often we are so unaware of what makes us tick in the first place, trying to have a conversation with another person about touchy stuff can be one of the hardest things in the world. Especially when you know that person doesn't think in the same ways you do.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The Cur Saga
So it's hard to housebreak a puppy. It's even harder when the two dogs who already reside in the house are not particularly housebroken. Generally, Jack and Neuf are good dogs, but Jack is getting old and incontinent, and Neuf is just a douche bag who likes to pee and poop in the house to show us all whose boss. So the house is full of dog odors and Ned, who is used to going any ol' where in the first place, thinks the whole house should be his bathroom. On top of all that, Ned has decided that since he's now bonafide, that means he should never have to set foot outside in the rain ever again. Ok, princess.
So I read up a bunch of websites on housebreaking your puppy, and most of them recommend crate training. I tried this for two days before collapsing in a fit of rage and tears. Ned loves his crate until he's forced to stay in there, then it's crycrycrycrycrywhinecrycry. I'd let him out for bathroom time, and when it would be time to go back in, suddenly the crate that's been his happy home for the past three weeks becomes a punishment and a thing to fear. Plus, he'd be so neurotically intimidated by what was going on that when he was let out and taken outside, he couldn't relax enough to eliminate, so it was right back into the crate, and thus developed a complex about going outside for a few days until I was able to lure him out with meat and snax. While we were outside, I tried to remain as calm as possible and wait for him to do his thing, but the only place he feels comfortable lettin' it all fly in inside. It rains here at least once a day, so that didn't help any either, instead of eliminating, he'd just stand at the door and whine. I can't fathom how people with carpets deal with this. At least we have all tile floors here, so the dozen or so small pools of wee are easily cleaned up. And to his credit, I will give him props for learning to pee on his wee-pads inside. Mostly he's figured out to use them. Though I can't help wondering if those just encourage him to think that eliminating inside is where it should be done.
I guess I should just be grateful that I have pretty much all day everyday to see to his training, I can't imagine trying to do this on a regular work schedule. ...Come to think of it, I can't even imagine BEING on a regular work schedule.
So today, tropical storm Emily is pissing down on us. I was hoping for a lot MORE rain and thunder and lightning, but all she's delivered so far is a constant stream of light rain. It's making for what I'll call a Novocaine day. Everything just feels a little numb. Speaking of Novocaine, I'm in the process of getting a crown put on one of my teeth. It broke when I was back in Seattle, and I figured that I'd just get it fixed when I was down here, and I wagered things would be a lot less expensive here. When I got the estimate in Seattle, the total was around $1,500. Wowza. When I went in to the dentist here in Santo Domingo and she gave me the estimate of around $500, and I was like, "oh, that's great." But with some pokey silver utensils in mouth, the dentist thought I was being sarcastic and said, "I know, right, just what you wanted to hear." If there hadn't been pokey silver utensils in my mouth I would have explained to her that it was, indeed, just what I wanted to hear, but opted instead to stay moot and avoid the possibility of getting poked by the pokey utensils. So last Monday I completed visit 3 of 4, and I have a temporary crown on now. It feels really weird and flat, kinda of like a really hard piece of gum has been wedged between my teeth. Well, at least it's not the snaggle-tooth that was there for two months after it broke!
So I read up a bunch of websites on housebreaking your puppy, and most of them recommend crate training. I tried this for two days before collapsing in a fit of rage and tears. Ned loves his crate until he's forced to stay in there, then it's crycrycrycrycrywhinecrycry. I'd let him out for bathroom time, and when it would be time to go back in, suddenly the crate that's been his happy home for the past three weeks becomes a punishment and a thing to fear. Plus, he'd be so neurotically intimidated by what was going on that when he was let out and taken outside, he couldn't relax enough to eliminate, so it was right back into the crate, and thus developed a complex about going outside for a few days until I was able to lure him out with meat and snax. While we were outside, I tried to remain as calm as possible and wait for him to do his thing, but the only place he feels comfortable lettin' it all fly in inside. It rains here at least once a day, so that didn't help any either, instead of eliminating, he'd just stand at the door and whine. I can't fathom how people with carpets deal with this. At least we have all tile floors here, so the dozen or so small pools of wee are easily cleaned up. And to his credit, I will give him props for learning to pee on his wee-pads inside. Mostly he's figured out to use them. Though I can't help wondering if those just encourage him to think that eliminating inside is where it should be done.
I guess I should just be grateful that I have pretty much all day everyday to see to his training, I can't imagine trying to do this on a regular work schedule. ...Come to think of it, I can't even imagine BEING on a regular work schedule.
So today, tropical storm Emily is pissing down on us. I was hoping for a lot MORE rain and thunder and lightning, but all she's delivered so far is a constant stream of light rain. It's making for what I'll call a Novocaine day. Everything just feels a little numb. Speaking of Novocaine, I'm in the process of getting a crown put on one of my teeth. It broke when I was back in Seattle, and I figured that I'd just get it fixed when I was down here, and I wagered things would be a lot less expensive here. When I got the estimate in Seattle, the total was around $1,500. Wowza. When I went in to the dentist here in Santo Domingo and she gave me the estimate of around $500, and I was like, "oh, that's great." But with some pokey silver utensils in mouth, the dentist thought I was being sarcastic and said, "I know, right, just what you wanted to hear." If there hadn't been pokey silver utensils in my mouth I would have explained to her that it was, indeed, just what I wanted to hear, but opted instead to stay moot and avoid the possibility of getting poked by the pokey utensils. So last Monday I completed visit 3 of 4, and I have a temporary crown on now. It feels really weird and flat, kinda of like a really hard piece of gum has been wedged between my teeth. Well, at least it's not the snaggle-tooth that was there for two months after it broke!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Stuff my nephew says...
So Aidan and I were hanging out the other day, and Jack (the big brown lab) was nearby, and we were talking about him. We've been having some trouble with Jack and Neuf peeing in the house, but generally Jack is a really good dog. We proceeded to have this conversation...
Aidan - "I love Jack."
Me - "Well, that's because you don't have to clean up his pee and poop."
Aidan - "But I can't."
Me - (Incredulous snort) "And why is that?" (A lot things that Aidan doesn't want to do lately he simply attributes to "I caaaaaaaan't.")
Aidan - "Because my shirt isn't big enough."
Me - "...What? How does that have anything to do with cleaning up dog poop?"
Aidan - "My shirt's not big so it won't reach up to cover my nose like Dada's shirt does."
Classic.
My other favorite thing he said was the other day when we were in the dentist's office waiting for people to stick pointy things into my mouth. Out of the blue he says,
"Al Pal, I love you."
Awwwwwwwwwwwww! I was so touched. It wasn't the first time he'd said that he loves me, but it was so random and so sweet. Unfortunately, it was somewhat eclipsed about 30 seconds later when he put his hand out to the wall, sighed, and said,
"I love this wall."
Ok, so I'm on par with the wall at the dentist's office. Hey, at least I'm loved.
Aidan - "I love Jack."
Me - "Well, that's because you don't have to clean up his pee and poop."
Aidan - "But I can't."
Me - (Incredulous snort) "And why is that?" (A lot things that Aidan doesn't want to do lately he simply attributes to "I caaaaaaaan't.")
Aidan - "Because my shirt isn't big enough."
Me - "...What? How does that have anything to do with cleaning up dog poop?"
Aidan - "My shirt's not big so it won't reach up to cover my nose like Dada's shirt does."
Classic.
My other favorite thing he said was the other day when we were in the dentist's office waiting for people to stick pointy things into my mouth. Out of the blue he says,
"Al Pal, I love you."
Awwwwwwwwwwwww! I was so touched. It wasn't the first time he'd said that he loves me, but it was so random and so sweet. Unfortunately, it was somewhat eclipsed about 30 seconds later when he put his hand out to the wall, sighed, and said,
"I love this wall."
Ok, so I'm on par with the wall at the dentist's office. Hey, at least I'm loved.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Ned.
Where am I? What's going on? I went from living on my own in a studio apartment in Seattle to a massive house in the Dominican Republic with two other adults, a 3 year old, and now 3, count em, t-h-r-e-e dogs. The thing is, I kinda like this new one.
This is Ned. He was found walking by the side of the road in the Samana Peninsula, covered in fleas and ticks and days, if not hours, away from death. I give full props to Dave and Joan, they were the ones who kicked into action, Joan made sad noises and Dave swung the car around to go get Ned. Me, I'm a horrible realist and could have just driven by without much thought to it. It's a harsh reality but that's the life of most of the dogs in Samana. I tried my best to save a Samana dog last year after getting too attached to her, and we all know how that turned out. I figured that Joan and Dave were just heading down a road that would only lead to a world of hurt. But we scooped Ned up (and I say "we" at this point because, although I was the most reluctant of the crew, I was the one that ended up with the flea-ridden cur in my lap) and took him back to our hotel/apartment and proceeded to painstakingly remove somewhere around 500 fleas from him. No, I'm not overestimating, I couldn't have imagined that sheer number of fleas on such a tiny dog.
About 10 baths and 5 hours later, Ned was clean and mostly flea-free. He ended up coming home to Santo Domigo with us and was given a clean bill of health from the vet. So he's been with us for a week, and each day I'm becoming more and more skeptical that he'll ever not be with us. Since I'm home more of the time and Joan and Dave already have plenty to deal with, I've become Ned's keeper and trainer, and honestly it's filling a much-needed empty spot in my life. One of the main reasons I fought so hard to get the rats to be able to come down here with me is that they fill my nurturing need. And yes, while I'm down here I get to look after Aidan, but he isn't mine, and the person he heads for when he most needs nurturing is Joan - and rightly so. So it's been good for me to have something to take care of. It's of course, stressful and icky training a puppy, but honestly, Ned seems highly intelligent and is picking up a lot of training really quickly, especially considering his age (the vet thought around 5 weeks, so he would now be about 6 weeks old). So yeah, he's pretty great... you know... for a dog.
This is Ned. He was found walking by the side of the road in the Samana Peninsula, covered in fleas and ticks and days, if not hours, away from death. I give full props to Dave and Joan, they were the ones who kicked into action, Joan made sad noises and Dave swung the car around to go get Ned. Me, I'm a horrible realist and could have just driven by without much thought to it. It's a harsh reality but that's the life of most of the dogs in Samana. I tried my best to save a Samana dog last year after getting too attached to her, and we all know how that turned out. I figured that Joan and Dave were just heading down a road that would only lead to a world of hurt. But we scooped Ned up (and I say "we" at this point because, although I was the most reluctant of the crew, I was the one that ended up with the flea-ridden cur in my lap) and took him back to our hotel/apartment and proceeded to painstakingly remove somewhere around 500 fleas from him. No, I'm not overestimating, I couldn't have imagined that sheer number of fleas on such a tiny dog.
About 10 baths and 5 hours later, Ned was clean and mostly flea-free. He ended up coming home to Santo Domigo with us and was given a clean bill of health from the vet. So he's been with us for a week, and each day I'm becoming more and more skeptical that he'll ever not be with us. Since I'm home more of the time and Joan and Dave already have plenty to deal with, I've become Ned's keeper and trainer, and honestly it's filling a much-needed empty spot in my life. One of the main reasons I fought so hard to get the rats to be able to come down here with me is that they fill my nurturing need. And yes, while I'm down here I get to look after Aidan, but he isn't mine, and the person he heads for when he most needs nurturing is Joan - and rightly so. So it's been good for me to have something to take care of. It's of course, stressful and icky training a puppy, but honestly, Ned seems highly intelligent and is picking up a lot of training really quickly, especially considering his age (the vet thought around 5 weeks, so he would now be about 6 weeks old). So yeah, he's pretty great... you know... for a dog.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Wet, White and Blue
Wettest... 4th of July... ever. No, seriously. EVER. Did it rain on your 4th of July? I can assure you, it rained more here. In fact it didn't stop raining. EVER. The whole day. I'm not embellishing. It's still raining.
That being said though, my, my I had a good time. The biggest party of the year at the Embassy is the 4th of July party, and though the estimates were somewhere around 500-600 of the possible 1000-1100 people expected to show up, that was actually ok since there was precious little space to stand and still manage to stay dry anyway. It's a bit of a pity, as the Embassy has pretty nice grounds, and there were all these little tables set up on the lawn that would have been lovely in nice weather, but Mother Nature had other nefarious soggy plans.
I got to play pretend diplomat and help out by corralling the VIPs through the entryway, as they walked through I greeted them in my few words of Spanish; "welcome! Good evening." and gesture them into the next room, hoping they wouldn't try to talk to me. If they did, I nodded with wide eyes until I could smile and inform them that my Spanish was "no mucho, lo siento." I shook hands and kissed cheeks of people in high, high places... and I have no idea who any of them were.
One of the highlights of the evening was hearing the National Anthem being sung as peals of thunder rumbled in the skies and rain poured down in buckets - BUCKETS! By the time I got to the buffet line (which was under a tent but on the lawn) it was a mud runway.
Much to our surprise, in spite of the rain there were fireworks that burst in all their color and glory and no doubt scared the shit out of Dominicans who weren't aware it was the US Independence Day. It was pretty cool though, standing in mud on the lawn of the US Embassy in Santo Domingo holding a whiskey and soda, watching pyrotechnics and thinking about how damn lucky I am to be me.
That being said though, my, my I had a good time. The biggest party of the year at the Embassy is the 4th of July party, and though the estimates were somewhere around 500-600 of the possible 1000-1100 people expected to show up, that was actually ok since there was precious little space to stand and still manage to stay dry anyway. It's a bit of a pity, as the Embassy has pretty nice grounds, and there were all these little tables set up on the lawn that would have been lovely in nice weather, but Mother Nature had other nefarious soggy plans.
I got to play pretend diplomat and help out by corralling the VIPs through the entryway, as they walked through I greeted them in my few words of Spanish; "welcome! Good evening." and gesture them into the next room, hoping they wouldn't try to talk to me. If they did, I nodded with wide eyes until I could smile and inform them that my Spanish was "no mucho, lo siento." I shook hands and kissed cheeks of people in high, high places... and I have no idea who any of them were.
One of the highlights of the evening was hearing the National Anthem being sung as peals of thunder rumbled in the skies and rain poured down in buckets - BUCKETS! By the time I got to the buffet line (which was under a tent but on the lawn) it was a mud runway.
Much to our surprise, in spite of the rain there were fireworks that burst in all their color and glory and no doubt scared the shit out of Dominicans who weren't aware it was the US Independence Day. It was pretty cool though, standing in mud on the lawn of the US Embassy in Santo Domingo holding a whiskey and soda, watching pyrotechnics and thinking about how damn lucky I am to be me.
Good influence... Me?
I'm happy to report that apparently I'm a good influence on this household. I'm getting the family to eat more vegetables, and the other day Joan and I finally went about turning the extra bedroom into an exercise room. I even got Aidan to eat two pieces of broccoli the other day! This is a major achievement, let me tell you. The entire time I was here last year, and the time that I've been here so far this year, I had never, EVER seen Aidan eat a vegetable. The closest thing to a vegetable I'd ever seen him eat was a piece of an apple that had sat next to some green beans in the refrigerator. He wanted a banana muffin (acceptable) with frosting and sprinkles (only as a special treat). So I asked him what he was going to do for that frosting and sprinkles. I was eating lunch at the time and I put two pieces of broccoli in front of him and told him to eat it. I figures there was NO WAY he'd actually do it... but he did! We talked about the tongue doesn't like broccoli so much, but the body does. So you just gotta chew through the eeew and swallow, and that makes the body very happy! Then, of course, you chase it down with frosting and sprinkles.
Adorable Adian Adult Quote of the Day - "Sigh... I'm really stressed out, I need to do some yoga."
Adorable Adian Adult Quote of the Day - "Sigh... I'm really stressed out, I need to do some yoga."
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Bonafide Sponge
So tomorrow I head to the embassy to get my diplomatic visa and my official badge to get me into the embassy. My life is so cool. Though, I must give props where props is due.
My travels to Asia - because my dad wanted a traveling companion and had plenty of frequent flyer miles
My SIP (Slightly Important Person) status in the DR - clutching on to my sister's coattails.
I'm fully aware that a lot of the amazing stuff in my life can actually mostly be contributed to the fact that I have an amazing family. And one that fully supports my Tra-la-la lifestyle. I know that they all hope that someday soon I'll find my true calling and actually have somewhat of a safety net in place for the rest of my life, but they also realize that I'm not going to resign myself to a job or lifestyle that I hate just so that I can have silly things like money and security.
I am one of the luckiest people in the world.
And tomorrow I'll have the diplomatic visa to prove it. (Tonight I have the belly full of Dave Pernal cooking and ginger beer to prove it!)
My travels to Asia - because my dad wanted a traveling companion and had plenty of frequent flyer miles
My SIP (Slightly Important Person) status in the DR - clutching on to my sister's coattails.
I'm fully aware that a lot of the amazing stuff in my life can actually mostly be contributed to the fact that I have an amazing family. And one that fully supports my Tra-la-la lifestyle. I know that they all hope that someday soon I'll find my true calling and actually have somewhat of a safety net in place for the rest of my life, but they also realize that I'm not going to resign myself to a job or lifestyle that I hate just so that I can have silly things like money and security.
I am one of the luckiest people in the world.
And tomorrow I'll have the diplomatic visa to prove it. (Tonight I have the belly full of Dave Pernal cooking and ginger beer to prove it!)
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Surprise ambush!!!
The wonderfulness of forgetting you took pictures of your rats just before leaving for the DR, only to find them when uploading the photo of your nephew.
I love Chesterfield Googaloop's face in this one (she's at far left)
Who knew a heart could feel such joy and such sadness at the same time!!!
I love Chesterfield Googaloop's face in this one (she's at far left)
Who knew a heart could feel such joy and such sadness at the same time!!!
Monday, June 27, 2011
BOOM!
So I'm up working in my room, and Aidan is downstairs watching The Muppet Show when a big storm breaks out. After it has thundered a few times I began to wonder if he was ok or if maybe he was getting scared. Sure enough, a minute or two later I hear him at my door. I'm ready to comfort him, when he walks in all smiles and big-eyed saying, "that was some pretty big thunder!" I asked him if he was scared at all and he said, "no, I LOVE thunder!"
As Santo Domingo is a thunder-storm prone city, I'd say this was a big blessing. Now if only the dogs could keep their shit together during the thunderstorms...
................................................Fearless.................................................
As Santo Domingo is a thunder-storm prone city, I'd say this was a big blessing. Now if only the dogs could keep their shit together during the thunderstorms...
................................................Fearless.................................................
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Sometimes Unfairness of an Otherwise Bountiful Life
There’s a man that I hate more than anything else in this world.
Most of the time, this blog is two things – half-assed and light. I rarely delve into the deep shit, but sometimes it’s worth wile to go a little crazy, just to keep the readers interested. Today is one of those days.
Over a year ago my heart was broken. And I’m not talking boo-hoo, woe is me namby-pamby bullshit, this was the proverbial knife in the stomach (and one in the back for good measure) balls-out, crying, screaming, raging, not eating, hole blown so big into me that it’s taken me over a year to deal with. And I still haven’t dealt with it all properly (clearly) and the “dealing with it” often took the worst forms of “dealing” you can imagine (I’m looking at you self-inflicted damage and alcoholism). I have never had to deal with so much anger before, and took every ounce of strength I had not to lose myself.
Imagine meeting someone who is everything you every wanted, faults and all. Turns you on mentally, physically, and you can talk to them like they’ve been your friend all your life. I guess for some people this happens every once in a while. For me it happened once. Once. So, understandably, I gave all of myself. And as hindsight is 50/50, I gave it all far, far too soon. Ten months after the outset it was over, him telling me that he needed to be on his own. That I understood. What I didn’t understand was him dating someone else less than a month later. He had left his girlfriend of 14 years for me, telling me that in all that time, I was the one and only one who ever made him think about straying. It made me feel so special, so prized. I felt remorse for breaking up his relationship, but I also felt that I was the catalyst that could finally break them apart after years of them staying together just because they didn’t want to be alone. I knew what I was doing was moralistically questionable, but I was following my heart – isn’t that what all that inspirational shit tells you to do? And I thought it was major-time love. Fucking epic love. And then his guilt destroyed him.
Or at least, that’s what I want to believe. Because how could he change his mind so quickly? How could he, in a feat worthy or locusts, move from his girlfriend of 14 years, right to me, and then right on to the next girl? Especially when “the next” girl was so similar to me. The thing is – how can I not think of her as me, but better? They are still together, over a year now, so all the people who told me that he broke up with me because he wasn’t in the mental state to be able to handle another relationship were mistaken. Somehow she got right everything that I got wrong. I know that self-indulgent, but how am I to think any other way? This douchebag gets love, affection and happiness after completely letting me down, and I get independence and a couple of scars from the razor blades.
Everyone tells me to get over it. Great. Yes, please. Please. I want to with every fiber of my being. And yet, the hurt and the bitterness are still there. Still stuck in my soul like a motherfucker. He’s the only man who’s ever made me feel they way I did. I hate that I don’t seem to be attracted to the vast majority of people out there. I'm just not. If I could change it, I would in a heartbeat.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my life and the many, MANY amazing and wonderful aspects of it, it’s just this one rotten bit of shrapnel lodged deep within my psyche; the sometimes unfairness of an otherwise bountiful life. I just saw pictures of them and they look so happy. I hate their happiness. I hate what they have. I hate feeling that it should have been me. And I especially hate that I feel this way when I know damn well how blessed my life is. All this while they’ve been falling in love, and I’ve spent it wallowing in self-loathing. I have the wherewithal to understand that life isn’t fair, but at the same time I acknowledge the darkness in my heart, where all my selfishness, bitterness and anger lies.
Not to mention the hate. The deep, unrelenting, bottomless hate. But see, the biggest reason that I hate him is that I still miss him. And even thought I scream at myself – "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? You are so better off" – I miss being with someone I felt so much for. Was is all an illusion? Shit, who knows. Do I REALLY hate him? No, not really.
But I do hope his hemorrhoids flare up at every possible opportunity.
Most of the time, this blog is two things – half-assed and light. I rarely delve into the deep shit, but sometimes it’s worth wile to go a little crazy, just to keep the readers interested. Today is one of those days.
Over a year ago my heart was broken. And I’m not talking boo-hoo, woe is me namby-pamby bullshit, this was the proverbial knife in the stomach (and one in the back for good measure) balls-out, crying, screaming, raging, not eating, hole blown so big into me that it’s taken me over a year to deal with. And I still haven’t dealt with it all properly (clearly) and the “dealing with it” often took the worst forms of “dealing” you can imagine (I’m looking at you self-inflicted damage and alcoholism). I have never had to deal with so much anger before, and took every ounce of strength I had not to lose myself.
Imagine meeting someone who is everything you every wanted, faults and all. Turns you on mentally, physically, and you can talk to them like they’ve been your friend all your life. I guess for some people this happens every once in a while. For me it happened once. Once. So, understandably, I gave all of myself. And as hindsight is 50/50, I gave it all far, far too soon. Ten months after the outset it was over, him telling me that he needed to be on his own. That I understood. What I didn’t understand was him dating someone else less than a month later. He had left his girlfriend of 14 years for me, telling me that in all that time, I was the one and only one who ever made him think about straying. It made me feel so special, so prized. I felt remorse for breaking up his relationship, but I also felt that I was the catalyst that could finally break them apart after years of them staying together just because they didn’t want to be alone. I knew what I was doing was moralistically questionable, but I was following my heart – isn’t that what all that inspirational shit tells you to do? And I thought it was major-time love. Fucking epic love. And then his guilt destroyed him.
Or at least, that’s what I want to believe. Because how could he change his mind so quickly? How could he, in a feat worthy or locusts, move from his girlfriend of 14 years, right to me, and then right on to the next girl? Especially when “the next” girl was so similar to me. The thing is – how can I not think of her as me, but better? They are still together, over a year now, so all the people who told me that he broke up with me because he wasn’t in the mental state to be able to handle another relationship were mistaken. Somehow she got right everything that I got wrong. I know that self-indulgent, but how am I to think any other way? This douchebag gets love, affection and happiness after completely letting me down, and I get independence and a couple of scars from the razor blades.
Everyone tells me to get over it. Great. Yes, please. Please. I want to with every fiber of my being. And yet, the hurt and the bitterness are still there. Still stuck in my soul like a motherfucker. He’s the only man who’s ever made me feel they way I did. I hate that I don’t seem to be attracted to the vast majority of people out there. I'm just not. If I could change it, I would in a heartbeat.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my life and the many, MANY amazing and wonderful aspects of it, it’s just this one rotten bit of shrapnel lodged deep within my psyche; the sometimes unfairness of an otherwise bountiful life. I just saw pictures of them and they look so happy. I hate their happiness. I hate what they have. I hate feeling that it should have been me. And I especially hate that I feel this way when I know damn well how blessed my life is. All this while they’ve been falling in love, and I’ve spent it wallowing in self-loathing. I have the wherewithal to understand that life isn’t fair, but at the same time I acknowledge the darkness in my heart, where all my selfishness, bitterness and anger lies.
Not to mention the hate. The deep, unrelenting, bottomless hate. But see, the biggest reason that I hate him is that I still miss him. And even thought I scream at myself – "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? You are so better off" – I miss being with someone I felt so much for. Was is all an illusion? Shit, who knows. Do I REALLY hate him? No, not really.
But I do hope his hemorrhoids flare up at every possible opportunity.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Who Invited Al Pal?
The family all went on a victorious beach trip this morning! As we were all headed to the car, Aidan asked, "who invited Al Pal?" Not as a criticism, more as a genuine question, but it sure was damn funny.
The beach was lovely and the weather was actually fabulous, but the water was shallow and there were lots of rocks and creepy growing things underfoot. Plus the water was choppy, which made it difficult to get a good footing, so you got knocked around a lot. Scrambling to get a foothold resulted in several scrapes and scratches to the soles of my feet. When I was packing, I almost brought my Teva's (water sandals) but eventually thought, "naw, when would I need these?" ...turns out the answer is - my first full day here! Well, it helps to toughen up my feet now that I'm mostly barefoot most of the time. But that feeling of putting your feet down right into a patch of kelp... ich... Adian and I had great fun digging in the sand, and I did get a little sunburned, though it's not as bad as I initially thought. Plus, Dave lost his wedding ring, so on the whole I got off pretty lucky.
I'm having a fantastic time here so far, but just when I begin to really lose myself in vacation mode, I'm snapped back to the reality that I'm here for a long, long time, and that this is my life now. Starting Monday I'm acting as Aidan's summer school, playing and learning with him from about 6:30 in the morning til around noon, then as soon as he starts his real school again, I'll probably need to find me a real job. Plus, in my off time try to learn Spanish. That's a whole lotta NEW for someone who's not a big fan of having to learn stuff. But it's my choice, and this is what I've chosen. I'm just a little worried that the voice in my head telling me I've made a huge mistake will be right. The upcoming year will require me to make a lot of decisions that may come to have an immense effect on the rest of my life. This is both thrilling and terrifying.
But at least there's really good food here. (Compliments of Dave Pernal, NOT the cuisine of Santo Domingo!)
The beach was lovely and the weather was actually fabulous, but the water was shallow and there were lots of rocks and creepy growing things underfoot. Plus the water was choppy, which made it difficult to get a good footing, so you got knocked around a lot. Scrambling to get a foothold resulted in several scrapes and scratches to the soles of my feet. When I was packing, I almost brought my Teva's (water sandals) but eventually thought, "naw, when would I need these?" ...turns out the answer is - my first full day here! Well, it helps to toughen up my feet now that I'm mostly barefoot most of the time. But that feeling of putting your feet down right into a patch of kelp... ich... Adian and I had great fun digging in the sand, and I did get a little sunburned, though it's not as bad as I initially thought. Plus, Dave lost his wedding ring, so on the whole I got off pretty lucky.
I'm having a fantastic time here so far, but just when I begin to really lose myself in vacation mode, I'm snapped back to the reality that I'm here for a long, long time, and that this is my life now. Starting Monday I'm acting as Aidan's summer school, playing and learning with him from about 6:30 in the morning til around noon, then as soon as he starts his real school again, I'll probably need to find me a real job. Plus, in my off time try to learn Spanish. That's a whole lotta NEW for someone who's not a big fan of having to learn stuff. But it's my choice, and this is what I've chosen. I'm just a little worried that the voice in my head telling me I've made a huge mistake will be right. The upcoming year will require me to make a lot of decisions that may come to have an immense effect on the rest of my life. This is both thrilling and terrifying.
But at least there's really good food here. (Compliments of Dave Pernal, NOT the cuisine of Santo Domingo!)
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Yeah I got baggage! So what?!
SeaTac Airport. About an hour before departure. I spent most of the day cleaning and packing, went out for a fantastic lunch with Chelsea, where she convinced me that it was better to pack drunk so that I could easily leave things behind. Well whadda ya know, she was right! It also got easier when it became utterly clear that there wasn't enough room for a snail to take a shit in the two bags I have. They are both packed to the brink. I wasn't worried though about weight, as homeslice Deltaman over the phone told me the weight limit was 70 pounds. Easy to stay under that, no? Well.......
Turns out it's 52 pounds. $50 overweight bag fee. Swell. If only I didn't have the 10 pounds of bread flour I'm bringing to Dave. Cept I can't even blame it on that, cuz the flour was in the other bag. Que Sera. At least they didn't confiscate my peanut butter at security. They did give it a long hard look though.
So it's off to JFK for the night. I arrive there at 6am and then take off for Santo Domingo at 10am. Arrive in SD around 2pm tomorrow.
Happy Summer!
Turns out it's 52 pounds. $50 overweight bag fee. Swell. If only I didn't have the 10 pounds of bread flour I'm bringing to Dave. Cept I can't even blame it on that, cuz the flour was in the other bag. Que Sera. At least they didn't confiscate my peanut butter at security. They did give it a long hard look though.
So it's off to JFK for the night. I arrive there at 6am and then take off for Santo Domingo at 10am. Arrive in SD around 2pm tomorrow.
Happy Summer!
Wild Card
So here it is. The eve of my departure, and yep, can't sleep a wink. So many things are going through my head. While I am thinking of the future, most of my thoughts tonight revolve around the past. So many things have happened in the past month, the past week even, to bring up old memories and relive times gone by. An uncanny number of events in fact. The kind of thing that seems to only happen when you're about to completely change your life around. The ghosts of my past have been quite active lately. The good news is that for the most part these are friendly ghosts, and they bring back a lot of good memories. There's a lot of difficult memories there too, reminders of very hard times in my life, but even then it's nice to see how far I've come in dealing with those hardships. It's also a good reminder that no matter how bad I think life gets, there is the light at the end. During a very hard time in my life, my mother once sent me this poem.
Wave of sorrow, do not drown me now
I see the island up ahead somehow
I see the island, and its sands are fair
Wave of sorrow, take me there
It has stayed with me throughout the years, it even helped take me through her death. On the verge now of embarking on a new chapter in my life, I look back and I'm am so proud of myself for what I've been able to endure in my life. And not just endure, but learn from and help me grow. We are all dealt our set of life cards, and I certainly didn't get the ones I was hoping for, but we have to play with what we've been dealt, and I think I've made a good game out of it so far.
Time to see what cards life has in store for me in the next round.
Wave of sorrow, do not drown me now
I see the island up ahead somehow
I see the island, and its sands are fair
Wave of sorrow, take me there
It has stayed with me throughout the years, it even helped take me through her death. On the verge now of embarking on a new chapter in my life, I look back and I'm am so proud of myself for what I've been able to endure in my life. And not just endure, but learn from and help me grow. We are all dealt our set of life cards, and I certainly didn't get the ones I was hoping for, but we have to play with what we've been dealt, and I think I've made a good game out of it so far.
Time to see what cards life has in store for me in the next round.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Cold Feet
Holy crap. What am I getting myself into?
Yes, that's right, panic has officially set in. I know perfectly well that this journey I'm about to take is a great opportunity for me. It's going to be fun and exciting, but it's also going to be boring and difficult and a challenge. I know that it will force me to change and adapt and learn new things about myself. I know that it will allow me a great chance to break out of daily routine and experience life on a whole new level.
But I keep thinking about what I'm leaving behind. There's so much here for me in Seattle, and I'm going to miss it, big time. Every few minutes today I've had to stop and take a breath and remember that impermanence is the rule of life. Nothing lasts forever, and it's time to walk forward into a big change. I've been trying to train my mind into not feeling sadness that I am leaving Seattle, but rather feel grateful and honored to have had such blessings in my life. And when I think of my friends, take a moment to feel the twinge of goodbye, but then focus on the joy of having such amazing people in my life. It's working... relatively well.
Still, I'm scared though. Maybe not scared, just nervous anticipation. Knowing what I'm leaving behind and constantly second-guessing myself. I know that there is no "right thing to do," but sometimes I wonder if I'm just running away from my life here. Am I just bored with where am at, and this is my misguided attempt to bring some excitement into my life? Or am I just running away to this tropical place because somewhere in my mind I equate that with "paradise" and easy-living? Running away from work and obligations because at heart I'm a 10 year-old who doesn't want to do her chores? Honestly I think maybe there's a part of all of those in the mix, however small. Maybe, maybe not. But I think it's good to ask myself these questions and explore my reasons for doing this. Of course it's going to be a complex, multi-faceted answer that I'll never really understand totally, and the last thing I want to do is to fall into an obsession about it, but I do think it's important to examine my reasons honestly.
Speaking of obligations, I'm about to head out for my very last day of work at Ladro! (And, ahem, as for "very last day..." only time will really tell. One of the nice things about going off on this crazy stunt is that I know that as long as Ladro is in business, the chances are high that I can always come back to Seattle and have at least a little bit of employment. Ladro, thank you for being my safety net!)
Yes, that's right, panic has officially set in. I know perfectly well that this journey I'm about to take is a great opportunity for me. It's going to be fun and exciting, but it's also going to be boring and difficult and a challenge. I know that it will force me to change and adapt and learn new things about myself. I know that it will allow me a great chance to break out of daily routine and experience life on a whole new level.
But I keep thinking about what I'm leaving behind. There's so much here for me in Seattle, and I'm going to miss it, big time. Every few minutes today I've had to stop and take a breath and remember that impermanence is the rule of life. Nothing lasts forever, and it's time to walk forward into a big change. I've been trying to train my mind into not feeling sadness that I am leaving Seattle, but rather feel grateful and honored to have had such blessings in my life. And when I think of my friends, take a moment to feel the twinge of goodbye, but then focus on the joy of having such amazing people in my life. It's working... relatively well.
Still, I'm scared though. Maybe not scared, just nervous anticipation. Knowing what I'm leaving behind and constantly second-guessing myself. I know that there is no "right thing to do," but sometimes I wonder if I'm just running away from my life here. Am I just bored with where am at, and this is my misguided attempt to bring some excitement into my life? Or am I just running away to this tropical place because somewhere in my mind I equate that with "paradise" and easy-living? Running away from work and obligations because at heart I'm a 10 year-old who doesn't want to do her chores? Honestly I think maybe there's a part of all of those in the mix, however small. Maybe, maybe not. But I think it's good to ask myself these questions and explore my reasons for doing this. Of course it's going to be a complex, multi-faceted answer that I'll never really understand totally, and the last thing I want to do is to fall into an obsession about it, but I do think it's important to examine my reasons honestly.
Speaking of obligations, I'm about to head out for my very last day of work at Ladro! (And, ahem, as for "very last day..." only time will really tell. One of the nice things about going off on this crazy stunt is that I know that as long as Ladro is in business, the chances are high that I can always come back to Seattle and have at least a little bit of employment. Ladro, thank you for being my safety net!)
Monday, June 13, 2011
Well I've officially entered crunch time. Today was the first day that I really had to face the fact that ALL I can take with me has to fit in my two suitcases. So I did
Packing culling - Round 1!
And it went well. However I fear that there are still many rounds to go.
The good news; I found some great people to sublet my apartment. But, if I'm honest, I didn't really want to sublet to a couple because... well... my bed and all... but overall it's a small price to pay for good folks to pay my rent while I'm gone.
I made a bold decision NOT to give my money to Washington State University for an organic farming certificate. I get the impression that most organic farms don't give a hoot if you have a "certificate" or not, all they care about is if you're ready to work. So instead of several thousand dollars to WSU, I gave about $150 to Amazon and bought a bunch of organic farming books. Now I just need the dedication to do the learning I need on my own.
I cancelled my organic produce delivery today. I was getting it every other week and last Thursday was the last shipment before I go. If any of you in Washington, Oregon or Alaska are looking for a good company, I have nothing but great things to say about Full Circle Organics, they consistently delivered great stuff. I'll miss it when I'm gone for sure.
It still doesn't seem totally real. I keep reminding myself to stop and appreciate the lovely temperate weather of Seattle. It's just now starting to get really beautiful here, and it's just when I'm leaving! But still, even in the previous weeks I've been trying to appreciate the cool days and nights, the sweet, crisp air, needing to wear clothing that covers my shoulders and below my knees. Drinking the fantastic NW beers, having a bevy of milk and milk alternatives from which to choose... Pac NW I will miss you!
Packing culling - Round 1!
And it went well. However I fear that there are still many rounds to go.
The good news; I found some great people to sublet my apartment. But, if I'm honest, I didn't really want to sublet to a couple because... well... my bed and all... but overall it's a small price to pay for good folks to pay my rent while I'm gone.
I made a bold decision NOT to give my money to Washington State University for an organic farming certificate. I get the impression that most organic farms don't give a hoot if you have a "certificate" or not, all they care about is if you're ready to work. So instead of several thousand dollars to WSU, I gave about $150 to Amazon and bought a bunch of organic farming books. Now I just need the dedication to do the learning I need on my own.
I cancelled my organic produce delivery today. I was getting it every other week and last Thursday was the last shipment before I go. If any of you in Washington, Oregon or Alaska are looking for a good company, I have nothing but great things to say about Full Circle Organics, they consistently delivered great stuff. I'll miss it when I'm gone for sure.
It still doesn't seem totally real. I keep reminding myself to stop and appreciate the lovely temperate weather of Seattle. It's just now starting to get really beautiful here, and it's just when I'm leaving! But still, even in the previous weeks I've been trying to appreciate the cool days and nights, the sweet, crisp air, needing to wear clothing that covers my shoulders and below my knees. Drinking the fantastic NW beers, having a bevy of milk and milk alternatives from which to choose... Pac NW I will miss you!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Two Weeks til Go Time
Well it seems I'm off again. Can't seem to sit still for more than a few months. The wanderlust parasite that lives in my lymph nodes has come alive once more and I'll be heading off in two weeks back to Santo Domingo. This is something of a new deal for me, as I honestly don't know how long I'll be staying this time around. Last year I stayed in Santo Domingo with my sister and her family for 2 1/2 months. This time around it could be upwards of a year, maybe even longer, maybe much shorter. This one is all about listening to my gut. Not the part that craves pizza 24/7, but the instinctual part.
I really like Seattle, it's a great place to live and I'm really grateful that I've been able to live here for the past 5 years, but I'm feeling like a change is in order. I've loved working at Ladro, but my patience with customers is waning, which is a sure sign I aught to get out before I'm thrown out. The general plan is to go down to the DR and hang with my family while pursuing an on-line organic farming certificate from Washington State University. Yes, I could do the program in Seattle, but I have the opportunity to do it in the DR. My life seems to be fueled by constant activity and change, so I figured why not give this a try. It seems like it could be a good fit for me. And if it blows up in my face, I know I have a home in Seattle and I'll always be welcomed back here.
So here goes another adventure, let's see what this one will bring...
I really like Seattle, it's a great place to live and I'm really grateful that I've been able to live here for the past 5 years, but I'm feeling like a change is in order. I've loved working at Ladro, but my patience with customers is waning, which is a sure sign I aught to get out before I'm thrown out. The general plan is to go down to the DR and hang with my family while pursuing an on-line organic farming certificate from Washington State University. Yes, I could do the program in Seattle, but I have the opportunity to do it in the DR. My life seems to be fueled by constant activity and change, so I figured why not give this a try. It seems like it could be a good fit for me. And if it blows up in my face, I know I have a home in Seattle and I'll always be welcomed back here.
So here goes another adventure, let's see what this one will bring...
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Hi blog!
Two of my walls are green. One is big and yellow. The other is small and orange. I have a lot of paint left over. One day I'll post it on craigslist for cheap or free and someone in need of citrus-colored paint will be very happy.
Last night one of my molars chipped. And not just a namby-pamby little flake of enamel, a big chunk of tooth broke off. I was eating a cookie at the time and simply thought the crunchy-ness was a wad of sugar on the top. Yes, that's right, I chewed up and ate a piece of my molar. I'm that hard core. Well, I may be hard core but my tooth was weak sauce, and now the man behind the disposable dentist's mask wants $1,500 to put a crown on my tooth. I wouldn't pay that much for a crown on my head. Maybe I'll spend $500 for a flight to Mexico and have it done there for much less. Then I get a crown AND a vacation. Everybody wins. Especially the makers and purveyors of fine rot-gut Mexican tequila. Who needs Novocaine?
Last night one of my molars chipped. And not just a namby-pamby little flake of enamel, a big chunk of tooth broke off. I was eating a cookie at the time and simply thought the crunchy-ness was a wad of sugar on the top. Yes, that's right, I chewed up and ate a piece of my molar. I'm that hard core. Well, I may be hard core but my tooth was weak sauce, and now the man behind the disposable dentist's mask wants $1,500 to put a crown on my tooth. I wouldn't pay that much for a crown on my head. Maybe I'll spend $500 for a flight to Mexico and have it done there for much less. Then I get a crown AND a vacation. Everybody wins. Especially the makers and purveyors of fine rot-gut Mexican tequila. Who needs Novocaine?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Valentine's Day Ring Contest!!!!!
Hi friends! So I decided to do something fun for Valentine's Day and here's the skinny ---
My great aunt gave me a ring that, while lovely, is sooooo not my style, plus it's too big for me. So I saw an add for a local jeweler that will "recycle" your rings, meaning that she will melt it down and reconstruct it. So I swung by her shop and had a brief discussion about it. I was hoping to do something vintage-looking, but to my surprise, she didn't really have much to offer in that realm. So I figured that I'd do some research and find a style that I liked on my own and have her craft something similar. But I got to thinking that there are so many creative people out there, I should ask around and see if anyone would design something for me - but what would be in it for them? So I came up with a fun and brilliant idea! I'm having a contest to design me a new ring! The ring currently has 5 small diamonds in it, and whoever comes up with the best design will win one of the diamonds!!!! Here are the details...
The ring right now is yellow gold, but I'm having the jeweler change it to white gold, as per my preference.
I'm most likely looking for something vintage-inspired, I want people to look at it and ask if it was inherited from my great-grandmother. Think Victorian, Edwardian, Art Deco... But don't let that stop you from designing something rad and crazy - I like that too and just may be swayed!
There are five small diamonds in the ring now - I'm guessing about .15 carat each, in a traditional circle shape. The design should encompass four or fewer of the diamonds. If you use fewer, you still only get to keep just the one extra though!
There's quite a bit of heft to the ring, and I think I'd prefer something lighter and more delicate, so don't feel that you have to design a ring of equal size.
If you have a design, you can e-mail it to me along with your name and contact information at
craftyfabricator@gmail.com
or you can drop off a sketch at Caffe Ladro.
Depending on how many designs I receive, I reserve the right to tell all the applicants that there designs are rubbish and go with an idea of my own. However, I'm really keen on this idea and think it'll make a great story for both parties, so don't worry that I'll weasel out of picking a winner just because I'm weaselly.
I'll make my decision on Feb. 14th - so start sketching!!!!
And e-mail me if you have any questions!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Oh yeah, I have a blog.
When I got back from the DR I made a note to keep up the blog even though I wasn't traveling. You see how far that got. But today I'm a little under the weather and have watched my fill of movies and read about as much bookness as I can take and frolicked with my old lady rats til they squeaked, "for the love of Pete, leave us alone unless you got any cheese for us!" The good news is that in the hour I forced myself out of the apartment today, I manged to pick up two more books from the library, soothe my throat with some free tea, and scored a FREE SANDWICH! That's right kids, I have access now to
FREE SANDWICHES!!!!!!!
Those of you who know me well will understand what a monumental deal this is. Plus they are really delicious sandwiches, which is the icing on the cake. Hmmm, speaking of which, I have to get working now to find a score of free cake...
The holidaze went well for me. I now drink beer and play the guitar, so my brother and I were able to bond like never before. I met my niece, ate pancakes, hiked through a beautiful mucky melty forest, cooked three chickens at once and kissed a gay man (I have very little memory of this last event, though I do have a surprisingly passionate picture to prove it). All in all a good little jaunt to Buffalo. It wasn't until the car was pulling away from the house at 5 in the morning on New Year's Day that I remembered I was leaving that house for probably the last time ever. It's not the house I grew up in, but it's the house I did a lot of growing up in, and certainly the house where most of my memories are stored. My dad is selling it, and he already has a few interested buyers, apparently. So that's it. And that's odd. But it's okay. Because things change and life moves on and nothing is forever. The memories cultivated there will always be with me, but now it's time to move on. Although in now makes my question of, "where is home" even harder...
FREE SANDWICHES!!!!!!!
Those of you who know me well will understand what a monumental deal this is. Plus they are really delicious sandwiches, which is the icing on the cake. Hmmm, speaking of which, I have to get working now to find a score of free cake...
The holidaze went well for me. I now drink beer and play the guitar, so my brother and I were able to bond like never before. I met my niece, ate pancakes, hiked through a beautiful mucky melty forest, cooked three chickens at once and kissed a gay man (I have very little memory of this last event, though I do have a surprisingly passionate picture to prove it). All in all a good little jaunt to Buffalo. It wasn't until the car was pulling away from the house at 5 in the morning on New Year's Day that I remembered I was leaving that house for probably the last time ever. It's not the house I grew up in, but it's the house I did a lot of growing up in, and certainly the house where most of my memories are stored. My dad is selling it, and he already has a few interested buyers, apparently. So that's it. And that's odd. But it's okay. Because things change and life moves on and nothing is forever. The memories cultivated there will always be with me, but now it's time to move on. Although in now makes my question of, "where is home" even harder...
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