Tag Archives: drama

The Dog Fight

9 Nov

It never seems to fail – no matter how hard I try trips home tend to be dramatic.

Last time I visited home, I slept in my car after being cornered by my sister’s dog, who for some reason seems to be the only dog in the entire world that hates me. Of course, I bring my dog with me, so we keep them separate.

This time when I went home, my sister’s dog just happened to be only about a week shy of being full-term pregnant. My mom also decided we should let the dogs play. Never mind that I work in animal behavior…no one seems to think I have any clue about what I’m doing when it comes to dogs.

So against my better judgment, I decide its okay to introduce the dogs, and all was well enough. My mom decided to take them into the living room, and for whatever reason I didn’t think to follow (probably because I was talking to Dad).

Only a few short moments later, I hear a fight break out. Instinct kicks in and I tear out of my mom’s room, through the kitchen and into the living room where a full-blown dog fight has broken out. My mom was trying to get in the middle of the dogs meanwhile my nephew was pushing her out of the way (literally), and everyone else just decided it was okay to watch.

Jazz, being a pretty good dog, tried to stop fighting once I started yelling, but her dog wouldn’t let up. Amidst everyone telling me not to, I reached in and picked up my dog to remove him from the situation, but because everyone else thought it was better to just watch, her dog grabbed hold of Jazz again.

Once again, no one seems to think I have any clue what I’m doing, because they kept telling me to stop.

Which is when I got fed up and yelled at them that I know what I’m doing and to grab Ivy’s back legs. Like I said, once I grabbed Jazz’s butt he completely stopped. Unfortunately, even once they grabbed my sister’s dog, she wouldn’t let go of my dog’s neck, so we had to pry her off.

And in all of an instant, I look down and see blood on Jazz’s head and splattered all over the floor, so I pick my dog up and take him into my old bedroom. His neck was soaked and I was expecting the worst after the hold the other dog had on him.

Lo and behold…I got a bloody nose even before I reached the dogs and bled all over the place. Had I walked out of my room and into the street, you would think I got a real good beating – blood all over both arms, my shirt, my neck, smeared on my faces and dripping down my lip. Jazz’s neck was soaked only with doggie saliva.

As it turns out, both dogs were largely unscathed. Apparently, the quick exertion mixed with the much drier air and probably dehydration gave me a nose bleed when I got up and ran, which I thought was a runny nose. It bled and bled and bled, and even into the next day I was still getting blood from it. Everyone was freaked out by the amount of blood in the living room before they realized it was just my nose.

I still don’t know what everyone would have done had I not been there. And I can’t believe my nephew pushed my mom out of the way twice.

Ever had something like this happen? How are your family gatherings?

The Consequence of Facebook on Friendship

2 Oct

Have you ever been scrolling through your Facebook feed and you see something like this:

Hey everyone. I just deleted a whole bunch of friends, and if you are friends with Milly Anderson, please delete her. I don’t want to associate with people who associate with her.

Surprisingly, it seems to happen a lot.

If you know anything about me, you likely know that I am not afraid to remove toxic people from my life, and that includes Facebook. I have two methods I use very frequently:

1) If we are good friends, or I would generally like to keep in touch with you and Facebook is the best way, but I don’t like your posts I will unfollow you.
2) If we are not good friends, and you continually post offensive or negative posts I will delete you.

It’s relatively drama-free.

The consequence of social media is that even if you do this, your business may (or may not…people really, really  don’t usually care about your life and aren’t going to inquire) be spread through other people who are still on your friend list. This is where people ask others to delete Milly Anderson or face losing a friendship. But your business still might be spread.

That isn’t okay. I’m sure Milly is an okay person and has every right to have friends that you do. This isn’t to mention that this is an ineffective way to stop spreading information.

It’s the internet. Unfortunately, some people are awful and they deserve to be deleted, but its not fair to try to govern other people’s lives and relationships. When I remove people from my friend groups (offline), I acknowledge that I can’t make others not be friends with them. That isn’t my choice to make.

What is the motivating factor behind asking people to delete people just because you are having issues? Do you think it is effective, and have you ever done it? Do you do that in offline relationships?

Life Update: Back to Blogging

19 Jan

It’s been so long, hasn’t it? Well, let me tell you what you’ve missed while I’ve been gone.

First, let me tell you the story.

On Tuesday, August 13, 2013 I came home after work and was greeted by the smell of feces. Having two cats and a dog, I immediately began looking for the source of the smell. I looked under things, behind things, checked the litter boxes, but unfortunately my sense of smell is poor, and soon enough I couldn’t use my nose to track the scent, nor did I find anything. Frustrated, I dismissed it. The next day I brought a coworker over to hang out for a spell, and asked her if she could smell it. She said she could, but it was faint, and that it smelled musty. On Thursday, I came home and my house smelled like sewage. My first thought went to the pets, but being unable to find anything, I checked the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms. Nothing. Again, I wasn’t able to smell anything else, and while I was concerned, I began making dinner.

When I was almost finished, I started to become aware of the fact that there was a really large number of flies in my house, and not the normal kind – they were the large, iridescent ones that are usually associated with death and really gross things. I tried not to let my thoughts consume me, but I was suddenly made conscious of the fact that I hadn’t seen any sign of my new roommate in over a week. It was at that moment that I completely freaked out and had to leave. I almost ran out of the house.

I texted a female friend, who I knew had been ice skating with most of our other friends, but no response. Frantic, I called her – again, nothing. Trying to figure out where to go, I grabbed my food and decided to sit in the car, and maybe call a male acquaintance of mine in desperation. As I got into my car, I finally received the text from the friend saying I could go to her house.

When I got there, the only thing I said was I think my roommate is dead. Like I assumed her, her boyfriend, and our other friend all thought I was crazy. I started telling them the signs – the weird smells, the flies, not seeing him for over a week. They dismissed them, and talked me down, which in that moment was really what I was looking for…honestly, people’s roommates don’t randomly die, right? The flies were due to recent spraying for mosquitoes, I didn’t check my landlord’s bathroom for the source of the sewage smell, roommate has a girlfriend…all things that make sense. It was enough to get me to go home, because it did make sense, and of all things, I know the smell of death and my dog hadn’t paid any attention to it, so why should I?

I got home, opened the door, and it smelled faintly of death. Not enough to know absolutely that it was death and not mustiness, but again…these things don’t happen to people.

The next morning, Friday, I woke up and went through my normal routine. As I was watching TV, about to leave for work, I hear my dog whine, and paw at my roommates door upstairs. While I was still in denial, I knew. I yelled for my cats and dogs to go downstairs, and tried to muster as much courage as I could. I couldn’t even make it all the way up the stairs. I reached, and gave three brief knocks, before bolting back downstairs and leaving to work. When I told my girl friend, she said her and our guy friend would come over after dinner and come investigate. I agreed, not knowing what to expect when I got off work.

I didn’t even have to open the door after work to smell the overwhelming smell of death. I let my dog out, stayed in the back yard, then kenneled him and went to dinner. At dinner, my friend bought me a dead guy ale, just for kicks. We laughed and made jokes, and eventually made our way to a bar. After a few drinks, it was time. When I got home, I couldn’t even be inside. I went out to the backyard and waited for them to arrive. When they got there, they finally admitted that I might actually have a problem. They knocked and called out and knocked some more, but my roommate didn’t reply. When we tried to open the door, it was locked. I thank the stars for that every day. We tried as many keys as I could find, but to no avail.

I called the cops (after much coaxing), and the dispatcher said to wait outside until they got there. The first cop to go inside immediately knew and acknowledged what was:

Yup.

It was the wee hours of the morning on August 17, 2013 when they found him. They had to break down the door, and he was in the worst point of decomposition – 7 to 9 days after death. We were all interviewed, and the detectives couldn’t wrap their head around why I didn’t find him sooner.

He moved in on August 3, after finding our house on  Craigslist. I had spoken no more than 3 times to him. I thought he had a girlfriend, and was out with her frequently. He didn’t have a car, so I never knew when he was home or not unless I saw him. How was I supposed to know?

Then we had pancakes. At 4:30 in the morning, thanks to two wonderful friends, one of which even went to go get milk. At 6:30 in the morning, while I was trying to go to sleep at my girl friends house (we all had a sleep-over), I texted my supervisor that I wouldn’t be in the next day, also after much coaxing by my friends.

I stayed with her for a week, but due to her mother’s arrival, I had to find shelter elsewhere. I spent the night at the male acquaintances house (who bought be the dead guy ale), and went to my parents to take my pets for the next two days. I came back, and actually stayed with him up until 3 nights ago. I slept on an air mattress for the first week, then my girl friend and her boyfriend gave us their old mattress, so I started sleeping on that.

Only a  few days later, a Tuesday in fact, the male acquaintance who had been so supportive (henceforth known as Fella), and I started dating. He is the most wonderful, tender, masculine man I have ever met and I can’t say that I’ve found anyone who can match how amazing he is. I had had a thing for him since June (at least set in stone – even the first time I saw him, I was smitten), and I had all but given up on the thought of us ever dating.

Our first weekend we were together (I took my vacation a week after we started dating), we almost took another camping trip to Crystal Mill where I had just been. I really wanted to, but we decided to go drive and check out the changing Aspen’s instead. It was great, and we parked at the top of the pass and ate lunch, and Fella got to watch me fall not once, but twice down the mountain side as I tried to take pictures in the snow.

We dated for about a month and a half, before telling all of ours friends. Most everyone knew, on at least some level, and expected it of us. After that, things got increasingly more complicated, and there were several times when I actually questioned the decision to tell anyone about us. I don’t like to announce things anyway, but oh well.

Then, one Sunday morning two and a half months after Fella and I started dating, he called it off over pancakes. I don’t want to get into the break-up as much, but I understood and really, there wasn’t anything I could do. He was still nothing short of amazing, which made it all that much harder to get over him. On my first day back to work after that weekend, my back windshield suddenly shattered and collapsed into my car.

As if things weren’t bad enough.

Things got so rough for the next two weeks, and then one day, I realized that we still should be friends, and that if I could still live with him, I was fine with that. We are still really great friends, and he is so supportive. One must always remember – have low expectations, but high hopes. That way you can work toward a goal, but if things don’t work out, you won’t be let down.

In the midst of all of that, I went back to the house to feed my chinchillas, and found that my snake was missing out of her Terrarium. I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find any sign of her. This was right before I took my trip in September, and I didn’t really have the time to look.

A while later, I came to do the same thing, and I found Pandora, my lady chinchilla, dead in her cage. I was heartbroken. It was this day that I found my snake, randomly, just laying in front of my bedroom door. A  few days later, I found my male chin, Hesiod, dead as well. And not too long after, my snake also passed. The only thing I can gather is that due to everything that had happened, they fell ill with an upper respiratory infection, or something similar, and I was unable to notice because of my absence.

And that’s the story. The abridged version, kind of. Then, there’s the here and “now”.

Up until the first of December, I was planning on moving back into the house that I had been living in. A lot of work needed done on it, and after months of fighting with the insurance company, they finally settled with my landlord to pay 50,000 dollars for repairs. My landlord set my move [back] in date as mid-December.

Yes!

And then I found out she was thinking of selling it. That was when I started looking for a new place to live, and not terribly long ago, I found this little gem of a place in the mountains (I live in Colorado, remember?). It made it really difficult because even though I no longer had my snake or chinchillas, I still had a dog that needed a yard, and two cats.

While I was looking for a place to live, I was also dealing with career upsettings. All of these things I am talking about – breakups, landlord selling the house, looking for a place to live, career changes, dying pets – are all happening at the same time. The only good thing that came from my roommate dying was Fella, and when that ended, there was nothing good to hang my hat on. I was down and out, and very bitter. I’m still being jerked around at my job, and I don’t know where I will be in even a month. I was trying to do behavior, and then supervisor, and now I don’t know what’s going to happen with it all.

But I did find somewhere to live. The place I found is nestled in the canyon, with the river running through it, placed on 23 acres, 2 of which are fenced. I can live alone and afford it. 

I started moving in last Sunday, and spent my first night here last Friday. I chose this weekend mainly because of the prorated rent, but also because I went to the hot springs for a few days and wanted to deal with it after.

To make everything more difficult still, I fell down some rock steps at the springs, and messed up both feet and ankles. All my toes are bruised, my weight-bearing foot has a sprained/bruised ankle, and my non weight-bearing foot has a huge lump that wraps all the way around the outer portion, and is incredibly bruised. It’s gotten better, but I’m still not back to 100%. That night, I had to climb up the side of the mountain back to the cabin in the snow. It was so incredibly painful, and I wanted nothing more than to be carried, but I had to buck up. I didn’t want to be that girl, so as much as I wanted to cry, I held it back until I was alone. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to go back to the springs when everyone else did because of my ankle. Another girl friend stayed with me, and we played cards until everyone got back.

When we got back, I started moving, hurt feet and all. And while it’s been physically difficult, it has also been the most emotionally charged move I have ever made, other than the one when I moved from my family to go to college.

Really, living with Fella has been the easiest living situation I’ve ever had. I was happy, but I couldn’t just abandon my pets – I love them! I had no choice but to move out, and not only to I dislike change, but I dislike giving up happiness for the unknown. I live 30 minutes away from all but one friend, have no cell service here, and am genuinely worried that I will become alone and isolated. It hasn’t been bad, but going from seeing someone every night, who cooks amazing food for you, and always has good conversation to living alone again is difficult. I don’t know if I have spoken a single word out loud all day.

The unpacking process hasn’t been easy. Luckily enough, the workers who have been tearing up the house packed up all my stuff. Unfortunately, the basement flooded and some of it got wet/ruined. And then there is the dead roommate that is on all of my stuff. Everything I unpack has to be disinfected. I got a new mattress to help combat that and luckily enough (ish), I don’t have to worry about a couch, but I have had to wash every single article of clothing that I own. It’s been at least 6 or 7 loads of laundry, and I’m still not done with it.

But, I will have my cats and dog back in probably about 2 weeks, maybe 3. This summer, I can host awesome barbecues and we can hang out on the beach and swim in the river. I don’t have to worry about roommates. This basement apartment is pretty big, and open, and new. I literally live over the river and through the woods.

And probably the most exciting part – redecorating. I have big plans, and so many of them are DIY that once I get things settled, I will still have plenty to do.

And now that I’ve updated you, please look forward to a normal number of blogs from me. I apologize that I’ve been so absent. As you can tell, it’s been a roller coaster.

Movie Review: The Hunger Games

21 Aug

 

After much debate, I decided to go ahead and watch The Hunger Games (movie).

It did not deliver in a way that I had imagined it could. Katniss was a pretty good character, but Peeta was not what I had wanted at all. The movie also left out some parts that I thought were very important to the story. For example, Peeta wasn’t mad at Katniss for pretending at the very end of the movie. I can’t even imagine how the second move is going to be if they left out such a vital part. That is a huge part of their character development.

Did you watch the movie? Did you read the book? What are your thoughts? 

Drama and Social Networking

1 Jun

Drama happens to all of us – some more than others. Social networking has a tendency to focus that drama into one small, very intense area that can be overwhelming. Personally, I’ve only had a few encounters that resolved quickly. Others, however, have much larger problems that just don’t seem to be resolved, and I know that several of my fellow Xanga bloggers have erased themselves for reasons like this.

Its a fact of life that dramatic things will happen. The real question is one of how to deal with it. I have a very firm stance on how I deal with it, and that’s something that is unlikely to change.

Rule 1: Avoid it.

Rule 2: Ignore it.

Rule 3: Deal with it.

Rule 4: Ignore it, again.

Rule 5: Get over it.

By avoiding drama, it usually doesn’t happen as often. This usually means I don’t put myself in the middle of the fire by adding people who I know love to be dramatic. I don’t want it around me.

By ignoring drama, I make a conscious decision to not engage unless absolutely necessary, so unless something is way out of control, I just continue on with my day. You say something offensive and stupid on Facebook? I remove you from my feed (keep in my, that doesn’t require removing someone from “friend” status).

By dealing with it, I plainly address the problem. I don’t address it angrily, and I try to be nonconfrontational, but there is a point in which something has to be done. Time to engage, be it via comment, message, and sometimes a passive-aggressive status update (not my preferred, since it usually makes things worse). If this person responds being more dramatic, melodramatic, or just rude, I may respond in a way that disregards everything mean they might’ve said, and try to be completely sweet. This sometimes diffuses the situation.

After dealing with it, I usually ignore it again. Sometimes, I don’t even comment back at what the person says. They don’t have anything to fuel the fire, and it will eventually fizzle out. Sometimes, I’ll remove them from my feed.

Then, I get over it. I’ll even delete someone (usually nonvital friends) if they are too dramatic and problem-causing. And I don’t look back. This solves my problems, and I really couldn’t care if they continue on with their drama, as long as I don’t have to hear about it. Many times, they have a bigger problem being deleted from friends, but that doesn’t mean its my problem.

There can be a point at which it becomes too much, I imagine. That point when you just have to delete your account, or make a new one and invite limited friends. I know some of you are going through this right now. It hasn’t happened to me, so I can’t say that I would never resort to this, but it seems like a very last option. I can’t think of a moment when someone could cause me so much trouble, that I would give up something I enjoy so much, like writing.

Have you/are you going through this? What is the point you reach when you finally decide to delete your account, stop blogging, get a new account, etc.? How do you deal with not writing/blogging/doing something you love? 

Genevieve: A Story

22 May

She was a great mom. Or at least she would’ve been.

It was Spring, and the Earth wanted everyone to know. The flowers were blossoming, and the trees were just coming out of their winter slumber. Life was everywhere, and Genevieve was no exception. Her womb was ripe with life, right alongside the gophers that plagued her garden and the birds who had just built their nest in the newly green tree outside her kitchen window.  She had a good life for herself, and it was true that she would be raising her twins alone, but she would give them a good life also.

There wasn’t a day that went by throughout her pregnancy that Genevieve didn’t rejoice in the feeling of her babies within her. It was only a few more weeks before she could bring them home with her, and begin her newest life chapter. She was lucky enough to be able to take leave from work once the babies were born, but the strain on her body grew every day. Some days she would get home and be unable to even keep herself awake long enough to make sure the house was clean, or to double-check the doors to make sure they were locked. That was the life of a single mother. She probably could’ve gotten help, but she was a strong woman. One day was especially taxing. Genevieve got home late, and sat on her bed to take the shoes off of her tired, swollen feet. She laid back and began to rub them. It was easier this way. She hoped to comfort them; she was sorry they must carry her burden. And then she was asleep.

She awoke to strange, unfamiliar sounds around her. It was rustling, and maybe the sounds of other people, but she couldn’t help but be baffled by why they were in her house, and terrified at what they might want with her. Genevieve groggily opened her eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t see anyone staring back at her. Nothing. That was hopeful, but then she realized that she wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t in her house. There were bars, and nothing else. Outside these bars was nothing but a plain, gray wall adorned with nothing but a single sign. She tried to read it, but couldn’t. It looked as if someone had made up a language.  Her room was the same dull gray as outside the room, with even less decoration. Her bed was moderately comfortable, and probably the most comforting thing so far. Her thoughts drew away from her vision, and she began to focus on what she was hearing.

It sounded like the creak of a bed. It sounded like someone, or something pacing. Genevieve decided to call out to whomever may be around, in hopes that they could explain the situation. She called out, but nothing escaped her lips. She called out again, but nothing. Perhaps they had taken her voice while she was sleeping, or perhaps the terror that filled her mind did not want her to speak. She tried to let out one more sound, and again was unable to utter a single syllable. Genevieve could feel tears of desperation welling up inside her. The terror of it all was almost unbearable, but then she felt a familiar kick. It was either little Andrew or Elizabeth trying to get her attention. Maybe they were trying to tell Mommy to calm down, that it will be alright, or at least that’s what Genevieve believed. She took a few, deep breaths, and allowed herself to think.

It wasn’t long before they visited her. They were the ones that took her; she didn’t trust them. They brought her food, and decent food at that. Sometimes it was chicken and a salad, and other times it was beef and potatoes. She started counting the days with the number of meals she got, and just hoped that it was three each day. They seemed close enough together that they had to be. Days went by, and each day was exactly like the one before. They brought her food, and she devoured it. They brought her a puzzle, and she completed it. She began to trust them. She hadn’t wanted to at first, but surely they would’ve hurt her by now if they’d wanted to. Maybe trusting them was the key to going home. With Genevieve’s growing trust came growing concern for what would happen when she went into labor. This room wasn’t fit for having babies, or raising babies. Time was not on her side.

Then, a day came that was different than all the rest. They came into her room, and that was something that had not happened before. Not only did they enter through the bars, but they grabbed her by her arms and began ushering her out. They had taken her once, and now they were taking her again. Genevieve didn’t like it and she resisted, but she could only do so much before she put Andrew and Elizabeth in danger. She finally stopped struggling. She let them take her.

As they moved past the other rooms, she could see that what she had been hearing this whole time was other people. Their rooms looked identical to hers, but she felt something different about them all. It was a calm that she hadn’t felt, and still didn’t feel. Maybe that was her mistake. Maybe she didn’t trust them enough, and now they were taking her to a place no one comes back from. Thoughts raced through her head as they took her down the long, gray hallway. Two more of them opened a door, and they were in a room that was different than all the rest.

This room was red, and it had things in it. There were a lot of things, and it struck her to be something of a doctors office. Her realization only made her anxious. Genevieve looked around and took in her surroundings. Nothing looked especially dangerous, but her babies weren’t ready for this world. Genevieve wasn’t sick, either. They never lost their grip on her arms. Suddenly, the two who held open the door grabbed her ankles, and she was being lifted from the ground, swung almost. They were strong. They laid her on a table in the center of the room; Genevieve began to struggle. She twisted and she thrashed around, but to no avail. They quickly overpowered her, and strapped her to the table. Almost immediately, they left and locked all the doors. She didn’t understand, until she began to smell something.

It was a chemical smell, and it was filling the room. Her mind raced, but then almost as if someone had flipped a switch, she began to feel calm, and sleepy.

Genevieve woke up back in the room. The thoughts that filled her head were fuzzy, and dreamlike. It must’ve been a terrible, terrible nightmare. She reached down and placed her hand on her giant tummy, in hopes that Andrew or Elizabeth would give a soft kick, but they weren’t there. Genevieve panicked and sat up. She looked down and there wasn’t a big pregnant belly there any longer. Her womb felt hollow. She frantically jumped off the bed and ravaged her clothing to see if her stomach would offer answers. She got the answer she didn’t want; it was a new, red cut sewn neatly back together. They had taken them. She was dizzy, and as she sat back down, she realized the only thing she knew for certain was that her babies were not here, nor were they in the room they had taken her to. They had murdered her babies.

Days passed as they had before, but Genevieve now felt empty. She stopped eating, and she stopped doing their puzzles. She couldn’t fathom how they expected her to just continue on as if nothing had happened. Her depression soon turned to anger. It was their fault she was here, and it was their fault she felt this way. It was their fault her babies never got to feel her embrace. She began to lash out every time one of them passed. She would jump at them and stick her arms through the bars to swing at them. She wanted them to feel her pain.

More time went by, when one day, one of them came into her room again. It was only one of them. Genevieve was ushered out, more gently than before, and was taken to a new room. It was her only shot to make them feel what she felt, but she knew that they must trust her. She was more than pleasant the entire walk to the new room, and was quite calm as she was guided into it. This one was bigger, with a bigger bed, but the same gray walls. She sat down, and the one that guided her motioned for her to wait. She complied. The one came back, and was carrying a new set of clothing. As the door opened, Genevieve seized her opportunity. She lunged at the one, using all of her rage to give her the strength she needed. She struck, and she bit, and she tore. She used all of her energy, and then fell, crumpled on the floor. The one closed the bars, and left.

Genevieve knew that this was it. She knew the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t care. The only thing she had in this world was her two, lovely little babies living inside of her, and now they were gone. She would never get them back. That’s why she didn’t struggle when they took her down the long hallway. That’s why she didn’t struggle when they strapped her to the table the second time. She accepted it; she knew peace would be soon. They left as they had before, and locked all the doors. This time, the room began to fill with another smell. This time, it was pleasantly sweet. It reminded her of her childhood. Genevieve breathed the scent deeply, and began to feel foggy. It wasn’t the same calmness she had felt before. She felt tired, but strained to stay awake. She strained to think clearly, but she could not. She closed her eyes. I was a great mom.