I started writing this blog when I was 22 (and I've only written a handful of posts - maybe I suffer from a lack of motivation). I had this, what I believed to be, profound notion that if I started writing about the things I wanted to learn, maybe it would help me "figure things out." I'm almost 27 and I still feel that pressure of being lost.
I'm currently in bed with two cats, while my dog heavily sighs in his crate. I think I'm still working on figuring out who I am, never mind where I'm supposed to be. My animal farm is simply a distraction (or so I've determined it to be). And honestly, part of me thinks that this animal farm is becoming an excuse to keep me grounded right here (in a job I'm not sure of and in a space I'm not sure of).
When I was younger I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to join the Peace Corps or something like it. Then, I decided that I needed to go to college because I would be able to better serve another country with a degree (and they preferred applicants with a degree). Well, the truth is I went to college because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. Nearing the end of my college career, I filled out half the Peace Corps application and had two of the three recommendations before I chickened out. I feel very strongly that I am meant to help people and I feel this weight of needing to leave my mark on the world. I'm not saying that I don't have a good job, because I do, and my job also does have an element of helping people - I'm just saying that I know this isn't where I need to be. But where am I supposed to be?
Along with suffering from a motivational problem, I also suffer from a lack of confidence in anything I do. Once upon a time I thought I was really good at writing. Now, I'm not so sure. I've found myself being that person who comes home after work, takes off my shoes (and pants) and just sits down to watch TV for the rest of the evening. Finally, once I feel sufficiently tired (or I acknowledge the fact that I do, actually, need sleep to function the next day) I go to bed. I go for months without even picking up a book. When I was younger, I read like my brain depended on it to live (which, in many respects, it does). I don't even really want to admit that the amount of time I spend writing is embarrassing for someone who once called herself a "writer."
Unfortunately, I do not have the answers. And I get worried that I will never have any of the answers. And I am petrified (quite metaphorically "(of organic matter) changed into a stony substance") that I will fall into this deep pit in which I cannot get out from. A deep pit of self-pity because I failed to recognize my full potential with only myself to blame. Becoming one of those people who constantly bitches about her job, but does nothing to change it... I'm already there.
Petrified: http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/petrified
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Let it Rain
I've adopted a dog into my life.
I can't say it was the "best" decision - nor can I really say I am 100% sure I've made the "right" decision - but here we are. Me and Rain. A bright, 1.5-year-old, Aussie from unknown origins. (Beautiful little - yet quite solid - boy.)
The first night was great. I put him in his little crate and we went off to sleep as if everything was right in the world. The next day (Monday) was also great. A new adventure.
I spent the next two days in tears.
How could I do this... again?! (Did I mention I'd previously fostered another dog for a month before my mind broke into a million pieces and, with tears in my eyes, I dropped him off at a Petsmart 30 minutes away to find his "furrever home?") The responsibility clouded my mind and built up my anxiety to a level I'd quite sufficiently forgotten existed.
(Did I also mention I've got two cats? Neither of which are totally pleased.) My poor kitties thought I was over this "dog thing." Little did they know, I'd been searching dogs on Petfinder non-stop. I told my mom, "No, I'm just looking." The trick is to just plain not look if you're not sure - once you start looking you are going to end up with whatever brand of animal you're looking at.
I'd set up my cats a few days prior to the arrival of Rain with a nice high feeding space away from any prying dog (so, obviously, I was prepared). This is where my cat Sadie spent the first week and a half. Callie, on the other hand, spent the first week and a half taunting Rain (when she wasn't also hiding). She'd come out of hiding and roll around on the floor within his eye-sight. Then, when he'd get close, she'd start hissing and hitting at the floor. Rain, not knowing what to do with this demon-creature, would nip at her. If Callie wasn't in eye-sight, she'd make noise by clawing at something (anything) so that Rain would come find her. Then she'd hiss at him, and hit at the floor until he came just close enough for her to decide it was best to go back into hiding. I only saw a chase once (and quickly put an end to that). I caught her clawing at my luggage in my room multiple times, each just staring at the other, and Rain wondering what she would do next (she just NEEDS attention).
I put a call into the behavior counselors at the shelter. This lady told me to start back and square one - the hissing (and Sadie hiding) was a sign of stress and I needed to reintroduce them all. This didn't help, I'd kind of gotten used to the idea of a dog, and now I had to start all over!
Her suggestion: separate the two species (... I live in an apartment) and once they all start acting normal, introduce each with the other's smell. Once that seems to go well, create a barrier between the two so they can see each other, but not touch. Then, finally, once everyone is again acting normal, have a controlled meeting (Rain on a leash).
I'm on step one. It's been 4 days. Callie is acting just the same as before (with a little less hiding as there is no need), and I barely see Sadie. I did let Rain enter into my bedroom doorway today - Callie looked, meowed about three times, then hissed (Sadie continued to be MIA). Oh, also of note, Rain is still kenneled in my room (the cat space) at night (he suffers from separation anxiety - which means he whines a bit if I put him outside my room without me and I can't handle it).
He's currently sleeping on the couch next to me. He thinks he's cute. Meanwhile, my (company) car is covered in muddy dog footprints.
I can't say it was the "best" decision - nor can I really say I am 100% sure I've made the "right" decision - but here we are. Me and Rain. A bright, 1.5-year-old, Aussie from unknown origins. (Beautiful little - yet quite solid - boy.)
The first night was great. I put him in his little crate and we went off to sleep as if everything was right in the world. The next day (Monday) was also great. A new adventure.
I spent the next two days in tears.
How could I do this... again?! (Did I mention I'd previously fostered another dog for a month before my mind broke into a million pieces and, with tears in my eyes, I dropped him off at a Petsmart 30 minutes away to find his "furrever home?") The responsibility clouded my mind and built up my anxiety to a level I'd quite sufficiently forgotten existed.
(Did I also mention I've got two cats? Neither of which are totally pleased.) My poor kitties thought I was over this "dog thing." Little did they know, I'd been searching dogs on Petfinder non-stop. I told my mom, "No, I'm just looking." The trick is to just plain not look if you're not sure - once you start looking you are going to end up with whatever brand of animal you're looking at.
I'd set up my cats a few days prior to the arrival of Rain with a nice high feeding space away from any prying dog (so, obviously, I was prepared). This is where my cat Sadie spent the first week and a half. Callie, on the other hand, spent the first week and a half taunting Rain (when she wasn't also hiding). She'd come out of hiding and roll around on the floor within his eye-sight. Then, when he'd get close, she'd start hissing and hitting at the floor. Rain, not knowing what to do with this demon-creature, would nip at her. If Callie wasn't in eye-sight, she'd make noise by clawing at something (anything) so that Rain would come find her. Then she'd hiss at him, and hit at the floor until he came just close enough for her to decide it was best to go back into hiding. I only saw a chase once (and quickly put an end to that). I caught her clawing at my luggage in my room multiple times, each just staring at the other, and Rain wondering what she would do next (she just NEEDS attention).
I put a call into the behavior counselors at the shelter. This lady told me to start back and square one - the hissing (and Sadie hiding) was a sign of stress and I needed to reintroduce them all. This didn't help, I'd kind of gotten used to the idea of a dog, and now I had to start all over!
Her suggestion: separate the two species (... I live in an apartment) and once they all start acting normal, introduce each with the other's smell. Once that seems to go well, create a barrier between the two so they can see each other, but not touch. Then, finally, once everyone is again acting normal, have a controlled meeting (Rain on a leash).
I'm on step one. It's been 4 days. Callie is acting just the same as before (with a little less hiding as there is no need), and I barely see Sadie. I did let Rain enter into my bedroom doorway today - Callie looked, meowed about three times, then hissed (Sadie continued to be MIA). Oh, also of note, Rain is still kenneled in my room (the cat space) at night (he suffers from separation anxiety - which means he whines a bit if I put him outside my room without me and I can't handle it).
He's currently sleeping on the couch next to me. He thinks he's cute. Meanwhile, my (company) car is covered in muddy dog footprints.
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