Tuesday, May 30, 2006

As the Fog Clears...

I feel inspired to write. To write with passion and elloquence, with heart and meaning. I haven't done that in a while and I realize that I miss it. When I take the time to write I feel so full, yet so elated. It's like I just poured my soul into a piece, but in return I have been refilled with overwhelming feelings of accomplishment, adrenaline, and the undeniable inspiration to write some more. As though every work of writing I finish is converted into a fuel for my mind, turning the gears in my creative being, and blessing me with new conceptions for another work. I love the idea that anyone who reads what I create is picking up a small piece of me, whether knowingly or not, and carrying it with them and sharing that piece with those they encounter, to be spread by those people and so on. The thought that I can introduce new ideas and new ways of thinking into someone's being is a powerful feeling. If even just one person out of a hundred that read my work takes something from it, I have still made an impact.

How could I have forgotten how wonderful writing well makes me feel? Perhaps it's been the losses I've endured, I don't know. What I do know is God has reminded me of my newest creative love, and I'm more than ready to get back to it. I'm more than ready to be fullfilled again. I want to turn the mundane into the amazing, to take my life's experiences and mold them into adventures worthy of taking a place among the great works of existing literature. That is one of my many dreams. One that I hope to make come true...

...one that I will make come true.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Sun Bubbles Make My...Nevermind

Today was nice. I woke up near noon, had McDonald's with my dad around 1:30, then had my first swim with him in the back yard pool this year. The water was quite the perfect temperature and it was so hot out, the crazy Nebraska wind didn't even make me cold. Dad and I sat in the sun for a little while after, then I took Pepsi for a walk.

Such a simple day can come with such a complete feeling. The sadness is slowly dissipating from my immediate consciousness, though I still can't help but think of Stormy's tragedy when in the pool. It is, however, slightly counteracted by sweet memories of Mel swimming last summer. She snorted so loud when she swam, and her short legs couldn't paddle for too long until they began to tip her sideways. Then, when we took her out of the water, she would make her way under the porch and get frisky, to end up coming out covered in dirt. She looked adorable with dirt on her flat face and noser. I had planned to videotape her swimming this summer...Ok, the sadness is VERY slowly dissipating. I can't not miss them. It's impossible.

Right. Anyway...

The point of this entry is that I had a good, full day. I'm worn out from all that time in the sun, and yes, that's the good kind of worn out. Right now I'm eating chicken nuggets dipped in sour cream and chives mashed potatoes and country gravy. Later my dad and I are going to play a board game, and I'll probably finish my day with a DVD episode or two of The Dead Zone and a little reading of Will and Grace: Fabulously Uncensored.

I really do live a blessed life.

Friday, May 26, 2006

There's Earth on My Hands...

Yesterday was a sad one for me. I felt so overwhelmed by the losses I've endured this year, and I just let it overcome me and disable me. I spent the day on the couch, just letting all the pain come through and getting as much of the feelings out as I could. I ended it with a good sob session last night, just before I fell asleep.

Then, this morning, it rained. I could hear the falling droplets collide with the earth as I lay half awake in my bed. Thinking of it now, it's like the shower was the earthly representation of a personal cleansing that took place as I slept over night. I woke up today feeling a little better. The sadness and emptiness is still there, of course, but it doesn't hurt quite so much, it doesn't overwhelm me. I told myself I wouldn't wallow today, that I would get something done. And I did.

After a trip to the store, my father and I did some work out back, with Dharma and Pepsi out with us, and it felt so good. We planted a sweet little flower plant that my dad bought me at the store in a cool ceramic barrel-like planter from our old house, and I decided to dedicate it to my late Pekinese, Mel. I edged out Perky's grave with old hand-made bricks, just like I did with Stormy's, and it looks really nice. I think the physicality of the work I did with her resting spot, and making it look manicured and representative of the love I still feel for her, was really helpful in my coping process. Dad and I also transplanted some Hen and Chicks plants to a spot under our beautiful Quaking Aspen in the back yard. We also skimmed out the pool and then relaxed in the sun for a while. It was great to get some things done, to do something that showed a tangible result.

Now, I'm resting on the couch, with Pepsi snuggled up against me and Dharma asleep on next cushion over. They're pooped from their time in the sun, but I'm sure it's the good kind of pooped, the kind that I feel. The kind of lovely, sun soaked tiredness that puts a smile on my face. Gosh I miss my babies that have gone, but I love the ones I have so much. It's been a healing day.

The Brick Wall of Reality

I know I said in my last post that I would write a "Meet the Pets" about Perky tomorrow, meaning yesterday, but it obviously didn't happen. I need a little more time to heal before I can write all the things I want to about her.

That said, it doesn't make much of a difference when I write it anyway because I realize I have no readers. Adding a site meter was a bad idea because now I can no longer live under the delusion that people are seeing what I have to say.

*sigh.*

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Too Many Tears Have Been Shed

My father and I buried Perky today. This year has been too hard, too sad. Perky just went too far down hill today, and the best thing we could do for her was to have her put to sleep. It was so hard deciding to take her to the vet. It was so hard saying goodbye and walking away.

We put her in the back yard, alongside the house, next to Stormy. She looked so sweet, so peaceful curled up in the box Dad brought her home in. I got to pet her and kiss her one more time before she was placed in her resting spot. We placed her in the blanket she'd been laying on in the house for that past few weeks and gently covered her with the soil. Now her body is resting in the yard she once loved and dominated, before her senility. I'm glad I went out to see her and participated in her burial. It really gave me a sense of peace and closure.

Perky's soul, her loyal essence is now with our other dear pets that have passed. She gets to be with Mel, Stormy, Lily, Punkin, and all the rest, free of the pains of arthritis, the confusion of senility. She now has her vision and hearing back, and her teeth are white and strong for chewing on tasty bones. She is forever in a lush and never-ending back yard, complete with fresh, cool, flowing water, and piles of "nummy-nums." Perky is there waiting with all the others for the day her people get to see her again and be with them all for eternity.

...Tomorrow I will do a kind of "Meet the Pets" on Perky, so you all will get to know why we loved her so much.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

New Beginnings? It's a Process

This evening my mother and I went to the open house of a cute little dwelling on the street I grew up on. Why did we go, you ask? That's a good question. I don't have a job, and I have no savings to speak of, yet I took a look at the type of home I would love to start out in with my little Pepsi.

The back yard was a great size and full of potential. It was even fenced in on three sides. Inside the house were original wood floors, a cute little kitchen, laundry room, two little bedrooms, a nicely sized living room, and a good amount of charm. I could picture myself living there, making the place my own, occupying my free time with little fix-its and personalizations around my little home. As I looked around I was making mental notes of what changes I would make and how I would decorate knowing full well there was no way I could pay for a place of my own right now.

It seems odd to a lot of people when I tell them that, a year out of high school, I don't even have a minimum wage job at a burger joint, I don't go to college, and I rarely pay for my keep. Most don't understand that I'm the kind of person that literally can't handle the kind of work that just pays the bills. I hate greeting customers, I hate pretending that I know what I'm doing at the register while I'm in a complete panic inside my head. I am not a customer service kind of person.

I have had two jobs in my life other than working for my father. The first was at my town's KFC/Taco Bell when I was a junior in hight school. I applied there because my sister's boyfriend told me he and I would likely be on the same shift and he would train me. It turned out that wasn't the case. The manager put he and I on seperate shifts, and that was my first inkling of regret. My first day of work took place after school. I had expected a few hours of training, learning the ropes, getting familiar with the job, and then going home. I ended up working an 8-hour shift and only a couple of those hours were for mediocre training. I was left at the lone register by myself, unable to answer customers' questions, usually stuck standing there looking for someone to show me which buttons to push. It was so embarrassing, so scary, and honestly traumatizing. I quit before the month was up because I couldn't handle the 8-hour shifts every school day and the lack of support from my managers and co-workers.

My second "real" job was at Mead Lumber the summer after I graduated. I was hired as a kind of fill in so when one of the two front clerks went to lunch, the other wouldn't be alone to handle the customers. I felt a little pressure to take this job since I no longer had school and really had no excuse to not be working. I also thought the job wouldn't be so bad because my dad, being a carpenter, makes frequent stops to the store. I was wrong.

Once again, though the two women I worked with were nice, I was poorly trained. Since Mead Lumber obviously has a lumber yard, there were many times that I had no product to ring up, but instead needed to enter codes for the materials out back. The problem was that I was never told of an index, never taught codes to memorize, and was often left at the counter alone. I was fine if I was given the task of dusting or mixing paint because there was nothing I needed to punch in and no customers that I had to pretend I knew what I was talking about to. But there was a breaking point.

One day, maybe my fifth work day, only one of the other two women was working along with me. Since she had a full shift, she had a lunch hour, but that meant I would be all alone at the only desk in the front of the store. By myself. Even though I was hired just so the other two employees wouldn't be alone over lunch. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do because I knew no codes, and wasn't familiar enough with the store to help customers, and there was no one to help me. I went home that evening and cried. A couple days later I quit.

I'm sure the majority of you that are reading this are thinking, wow, this girl is a baby. She should have just sucked it up and gotten through it. Believe me, I told myself to do that, but I just couldn't. A few months later I was diagnosed as a depressive. I am being treated for my anxious tendancies and mild inability to cope with unfamiliar surroundings. I think I might be able to get back to the job scene soon.

It so happens that I was searching jobs in my area on the internet and found a listing for a vet assistant in my town. Exactly the kind of job I think I would do best at. I'm still scared of the unknown though, I don't even know which clinic the opening is at yet. I forced myself, after three days of going back and forth in my mind between fear and logic, to email Nebraska Work Force and look into the position. I really think I could be happy with a job like this. At least, happier than at a job as a grocery store clerk. I really hope it works out so that I can just try it and not chicken out.

Maybe then I can get that cute house for myself and my little Pepsi.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Chapter One to a Fantasy Work in Progress

Shira sat reclined on a branch high in an ancient tree, her back against the massive trunk, watching the sunrise. She had gone on a hunt in the woods with her brother, Kamen, the day before. Both camped for the night, but when Kamen headed back for home an hour earlier, Shira decided to stay behind and watch the daybreak. It was truly a beautiful morning. The sunlight glistened through the dewdrops clinging to every newly blossomed leaf, birds were singing from every direction and Shira felt totally content, releasing a long sigh and smiling at the beauty surrounding her.

The day before had been an eventful one, staking out wild rabbits in the damp woods known as Reynik Forest. Shira and Kamen had an ongoing competition as far as the hunting went. Shira, being quite the tomboy, was always able to keep up with her older brother, who was happy to teach her all he knew with the his four years extra experience. On this most recent venture it was Shira that landed the prey. It had taken till the evening to make the kills, but the girl managed to sack three rabbits. She always possessed a natural talent with a bow and arrow, which was fine tuned with vigilant practice. The 15 year-old’s prize was to sit back and relax as Kamen skinned and cleaned the animals by the campfire that night, packed most of the meat to take home to the rest of their family, and cooked the remaining for their supper. Brother and sister ate until their bellies were full, Shira playfully teasing Kamen about her win as they dined, and finally drifted off to sleep under the velvety night sky, warmed by the glowing embers.

Shira loved spending time with her caring, protective brother, but she enjoyed time alone every now and then as well. As soon as the sun reached above the distant horizon, the girl descended from the top of the great tree. Kamen took the camping supplies and meat when he left, so all Shira had to carry back was her bow and quiver, which had become more like appendages since the day the ornate set was gifted to her five years before. She began her journey home at a leisurely pace, deciding to take her own, more interesting route over the shorter, direct route her brother preferred. She wanted to do a little exploring, for there was always something new to discover in Reynik Forest, and relish every second of the solo trip back to her village.

In her usual boyish attire, a tan linen shirt with elbow length sleeves, a crimson form-fitting vest, well worn buckskin pants, hand-me-down leather shoes, and her long raven hair tied back, Shira easily maneuvered through the thick growth of trees. She merrily splashed through clear, shallow streams as she came upon them, all the while soaking in the sun, thoroughly enjoying the cool spring breeze. She loved to smell the freshness of nature around her and didn’t mind getting a little dirty. Eventually Shira picked up the sounds of a very familiar waterfall, which told her she was nearly home. She stopped to admire the crystalline cascade when she came to it. The broad wall of water was always a mesmerizing site for the girl and she often visited it in her free time. At nearly noon, Shira resigned herself to the fact that she needed to return to reality. The teenager left the dense trees behind and entered her home village of Torrenda.

Torrenda was a very small, peaceful community like most in the far western section of Xandresh. The only truly distinguishing characteristic of the town was the constant white noise that resonated from that nearby waterfall. The sound could be easily heard throughout most of the settlement. Torrenda itself had one main dirt road, along which sat a few mentionable businesses like a trade store, a blacksmith, a butcher and a tavern. The rest of the village consisted of thatch-roofed cottages, barns and other structures, each lovingly built by its owner, and acres of lush farmland. Torrenda was a thriving little town and Shira and her brother considered it their only home. It was, after all, the only one either could recall, but they were not natives. The two had been adopted by the village doctor and his wife who found the children deep in Reynik Forest on their journey back from a distant village. Infant Shira and four year-old Kamen were hidden in the hollow trunk of a dead tree near what must have been their campsite. It had obviously been attacked, and their parents lay murdered nearby. The couple took the siblings in as their own, raising them with all the love of natural parents.

As Shira strolled down the main road, Torrenda appeared as a bustle as a town of that size could be. Horses and people walked the slightly saturated street, villagers tending to daily business, the usual chatter taking place. Shira knew the name of each and every citizen in her sights, and each of them knew her. She adored this little village and the people in it, but she always felt like an outsider. Unlike Kamen, Shira was never able to quite fit in with the community norm.

This young lady was just not interested in such things as marriage like all the other young women her age and, in that way, no one was interested in her. Not that the teenager was unattractive. In fact she was quite beautiful. Even her masculine clothing flattered her feminine figure. Her wavy black hair was long and vibrant, and her unusually large and pale blue eyes demanded attention. But it was Shira’s natural abilities that really separated her from the rest. For instance, her talent in archery was unmatched my most of the grown male villagers. But it was her gift of perception and even precognition that was especially remarkable. Shira was capable of sensing whether or not someone was lying and could feel strong emotions in others, as well as more subtle ones in those that were close to her. The girl’s prognostications were the most traumatic for her and ever since the first incident, when she was very young, Shira taught herself to be extremely careful about who she was open about her rare skills with.

* * * * * *

It happened exactly one week before little Shira’s sixth birthday. The air was frigid on that late November morning, and the girl accompanied her brother and their adoptive father, Jove, to the butcher. The plan was to purchase some fresh beef to stockpile before Torrenda’s first expected snow, soon to come. The three stepped inside the familiar shop, joining a couple other customers which were waiting for the owner, a gruff-looking man named Gray, to return from the back with their meat. After a minute or so, Gray came to the front counter with those orders, wearing his usual warm smile. Gray was a courteous man and his kind personality more than made up for his unpolished looks. Shira would later come to consider him a valued friend.

Jove, Shira, and Kamen stepped up to the counter, now the only customers in the store. Gray happily took Jove’s order and engaged in a little small talk about the pending weather. The large man then looked down at the two children and asked, “So, are you two ready for the snow?” and that’s when it hit Shira. She couldn’t have explained it then, but if asked today she would have described it as shock, drenched in an undeniable wave of perceived pain. The little girl went such a ghostly white that Jove was immediately concerned. He picked up Shira and asked her what was wrong as Gray warily headed through the doors that lead to the back. Shira could not say a word. It was as though the breath were stolen from her lungs. She knew something, but was incapable of communicating what it was.

It was only a couple of seconds before Shira hastily squirmed out of her father’s arms and pushed her way through the doors to Gray. At the exact moment the girl entered the room, it happened. Just like she knew it would. Gray swung down his cleaver to divide a slab of meat, but hit his fingers instead. There was a horrific scream of pain from Gray, and one of terror from Shira. Blood instantly and heavily spurted from where two of Gray’s left-hand digits once were. Jove frantically shoved through the door, shouting for his daughter, with Kamen not far behind. Once he was aware of what had happened, the father ordered his son to take Shira and go find their mother for help.

Jove tightly wrapped a cloth around Gray’s injury and assured him he would be alright, but all the butcher could say in response was, “She knew…Shira knew.” Somehow, as happens in all close communes, everyone in Torrenda heard the story, which required no exaggeration. The result was a stigma that would hang over Shira from then on.

* * * * * *

Shira finally approached the cottage where she and her family dwelled. She halted for a moment just before the entrance and took a deep breath, assuming there would be consequences for her half-day’s self indulgence. Then she cautiously opened the creaking front door, in hopes of going unnoticed. There was of course, no such luck.

“Shira!” called her mother, a lean, blonde-haired woman named Hendra, from the small kitchen in the corner of their cottage.

Shira stopped mid-tiptoe with a half serious defeated look on her face. “Good morning, mother,” she replied.

“Good afternoon, Shira. You are getting too old for such disregard for your chores, young lady.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” answered Shira, now slightly shamed. It’s just that, I can actually begin to feel who I truly am in those woods.”

I know, my darling girl,” said Hendra as she placed a caring hand on her adopted daughter’s cheek. Love was a constant feeling Shira could sense from her mother, but the physical caress amplified it even more. “Eat something quickly and go help your brother. He has been doing your duties in addition to his own today.”

Relieved that she was not scolded further, Shira did as her mother told her. She even took over the rest of the day’s work for her brother, mending fences, cleaning the chicken coup and such, so he could ride his beloved horse, Rain. Horseback riding was the one talent of Kamen’s that Shira knew she could never match.

As the dusk finally arrived that day, painting the horizon a deep crimson, Shira and her family sat down to dinner. They ate contentedly and partook in the usual conversation surrounding the day’s events. Jove spoke of the patients he saw that day and announced the pregnancy of a newly wed villager. Hendra shared some town gossip from her trip to the trade store, and Kamen and Shira told their parents about their hunt the day before. Soon everyone was satiated and relaxed.

Shira was the first to traipse off to bed, thoroughly exhausted, yet completely satisfied from her full day. She made her way across the worn-in, wide planked floor and entered her cozy little bedroom. She crawled on to her straw stuffed mattress and quickly fell asleep, lulled by the distant roar of Torrenda’s waterfall.

Feathers & Paw Prints

Here's a recap of my week so far and the animal encounters I've had...This one's not very well-written, sorry...

Monday: I made the decision to take Perky and Pepsi on walks. They go separately due to the age gap and difference in activity between them. Plus, Pepsi can be a pain in the behind just walking by herself, let alone with another dog.

Perky went first, and I knew this walk wouldn't take long because of her arthritis. I also knew she would really enjoy the sunshine and being able to sniff around a little. We walked very slow and steady, only going two houses down, around the corner, and to the end of the short side of the block. Then Perky just stood there for a while, sniffing the air, taking it all in. I almost made her turn round right away to head back, but then I realized that this could be her last walk. She's old, her kidneys are failing, we could lose her any day. I wanted her to enjoy herself so I let her just stand there for a while.

After a bit I turned Perky around and we began our short journey home. She walked slower this time and I knew she'd poop out before we got back. As we reached the corner she stopped and I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. I patted her head and kissed her as I walked. I'm glad she got to see a bit of the world that day.

Pepsi was next and this time I took my camera because I knew the walk would be considerably longer. We walked along the park block and we visited my mom at work, just another block down. Pepsi got a drink of water and I got a...well, a Pepsi, and we went on our way back home, this time throught the park instead of along its sidewalk.

Pepsi frollicked along in the grass and I watched her cute and manic weaving, stopping, and pulling with amusement. She's so cute and I would never change any of her cartoonish ways. I spotted a few purple irises growing along the pond and I made my way over to shoot some pictures. Pepsi, of course, wanted to get down in the muck of the pond. We explored the area for a while, but found no more photo opportunities, so we continued on our way back home.

Pepsi was still quite energetic upon reaching our residence, but she was hot and thirsty, yet content from her bout of exercise. I had a good time too.

Tuesday: At 8:30 I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, realizing a few seconds before that I only had about an hour to get ready to go work with my dad. I let Pepsi out of her kennel, took her downstairs and put her outside, and made my way to the porch where the new kitty, Mia, currently resides. To my surprise she was sitting on the corner perch up by the windows that was built for our other cat, Dharma, wide-eyed and beautiful. The moment she saw me step into her space she jumped down and came to me. That's right, the spooky, terrified new cat missed me over night and threw caution to the wind to greet me. She allowed me to pet her and rubbed her body against my legs as I spoke to her in amazement. I was so happy that she was finally showing improvement, finally feeling comfortable in my presence.

Just two days before I was so worried that Mia would never be content in her new home. That small act of just coming to me was so wonderful and I finally have some hope for her. She is still a little skittish and won't allow us to pick her up, but she is more comfortable walking around when people are on the porch with her. She finally started eating some and regularly using her litter box. I think she has the potential to become a normal, loving indoor kitty. Thank goodness.

At lunchtime I was sitting in the living room with my laptop and my food, you know, the essentials, when I heard a loud DONK! Right away I knew what had happened. Another bird flew into our big front window. I got up and looked down through the glass to see a young grey bird in a daze among our landscaping wood chips.

I immediately went outside to check on the poor little animal. She was young, had speckles on her chest, but I don't know what kind of bird she was, just that she wasn't a robin. I gingerly picked her up and could feel her trembling. I examined her for any obvious injuries and noticed that one eye was blinking and one was not. At first I thought it was the blinking eye that was injured, but I turned out to be wrong.

My dad came outside and looked at her, and then tried placing her on a branch in our big tree. She fell off. So then, Dad lightly tossed her into the air, but her wings only fluttered, not enough to sustain flight. He gave her back to me and I planned to stay with her until she recovered, or died. I liked the feeling of her perched along my finger anyway.

So, I just sat in the sun in my driveway, lightly petting my new friend and examining her wings. She wasn't trembling as much and seemed a little more alert. I tried a few times to set her into flight, but she still couldn't do it and she was content in my company. I walked around with her and talked to her a bit...it's so easy for me to talk soothingly to animals...and that was about the time I noticed.

In the time that I had held her, the eye that was not blinking had become red and watery, her eyelid very swollen. It also looked as though the eye itself was not functioning. It did not respond to the wave of my hand. I was worried and feared she was in pain. I even considered taking her to the vet. I had to tell myself that she's a wild animal, and though quite fragile, I was sure birds lived through these little mishaps all the time.

I kept on holding her, petting her, letting her collect herself. She wouldn't take off from my hand and I didn't want her to fall and brake a leg. I kneeled down along the yard, placed the young bird in my palm and gently wrapped my fingers around her little body. You can do it this time I thought. Then I tossed her up into the air and she flapped her wings, flying into the tree nearby.

I was oddly proud and incredibly relieved. It felt so good to see her fly successfully, to witness hope that the little bird could live on, and that I was a part of it. That's the best feeling, helping an animal.

Wednesday: I got a call late in the afternoon from my brother. He wanted my help in deciding what to do with three baby birds whose nest he had moved from just outside his bedroom window. In the call he said they looked to be close to flying age, but he asked if I wanted to come over and see them. He wanted me to help him decide what to do. So of course, I went.

It was obvious upon seeing the babies that they were not quite near flying age, their feathers weren't close to fully grown. I picked up one of the birds and looked it over. It seemed lively enough, but my brother and I both knew the mother would never come back for them now that the nest had been disturbed.

I agreed to take the babies home with me and see if there was any way I could care for them. When I showed them to my dad he immediately got a grave look on his face. He told me these birds were sparrows, the most difficult to feed. They did not take bits of bread soaked in milk like many abandoned birds he had cared for in his youth. These babies would not survive. There was nothing I could do.

It was a sad thing to accept, but my dad told me he would humanely end their lives so they wouldn't have to starve to death. It was the only compassionate option. I hate when these things happen. I come across many baby birds in my summers, most have fallen out of our front tree, and most don't survive, even with the bread and milk. They are just so fragile and it's almost futile to try and care for the little creatures...but I just can't leave them in the open to suffer. I just can't turn my back.

I may love animals too much, I may have too much compassion for God's creatures for my own good, but I don't think I'd change it if I had the option. It can be so rewarding and it can really warm my heart. That makes all the sad times, all the futile attempts worth it.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Unsettled and Unsure

My parents and I made the trip to pick up our newly adopted cat, Mia on Saturday. I've been excited to see her and welcome her into our home, but let me tell you, the reality is turning out to be a little tougher than I thought.

She was described by her foster mother as being a little people shy. I took this as meaning Mia was a timid at first but had a sweet demeanor when she warmed up a bit. Well, that's not quite the case. Mia is very spooky and shy. She hides in corners and dark cramped areas, and scratches like no other when we try to pick her up. She does allow us to pet her, but only if she's backed into a wall, and not without hissing at us first. She hasn't really eaten yet, and we're pretty sure she hasn't gone to the bathroom. We had to confine her on our enclosed porch with her food and litter box because we wouldn't be able to keep her from hiding all over the house.

It's been a very stressful couple of days trying to make Mia feel comfortable and at home. I've discovered that she loves being brushed, but when she catches herself getting too friendly, she backs up into a corner again. There are points when she will get scared or mad and claw, and we are no where near the point of safely picking her up. I got her to eat a very small amount of cat food today, but no water and still no litter box. It's emotionally tough on me, just trying to be patient with her and tediously earn her trust. I worry that she will never reach the point when we can just hold her or even approach her without a hiss or a startled reaction.

Our cat Dharma is very unsure about Mia and that is also tough for me. She is cautious around her and hisses at the sight of her. Last night Mia jumped up onto the perch we made on the porch window sill where Dharma sat, and Dharma had a fit. I had never heard her yowl like that before. I realize that she's just not used to the presence and smell of this new cat and I know her feelings aren't hurt, but my sensitivity and immeasurable love for my animals makes me hurt for her and feel guilty that her life has been disrupted. I feel sad that Mia is constantly on high alert and that she can't trust anyone. I'm bothered that she doesn't eat yet and that she hisses at the sight of me. I worry that this may not work.

I also feel personal guilt about the small disruption Mia's adoption has caused. I'm the one that pushed the subject, I'm the one that insisted we adopt her. I'm the one that thought it was meant to be. I thought that we could use Stormy's tragic death as an opportunity to give love to another needy animal and I couldn't wait to find that animal. What if I was wrong? What if Mia will never accept our love? What if Dharma never gets used to her? What if I caused all of this stress in a selfish and futile attempt to fill the holes that were left in my heart after losing two wonderful pets within three months?

Will this work? I don't know...

Will I try my best to make it work? Absolutely.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Love, Unconditional

It's impossible for me to convey how much I love my pets...

Monday, May 08, 2006

Prologue to a Fantasy Work In Progress

It was the darkest time of night, just a few hours before sunrise, and a deathly quiet finally overcame the isolated village. Seventy-two hours of ceaseless terror left a devastation the could never be undone. Outside, not a single window was left unbroken, emptied barrels and boxes littered the streets along with what was once inside them, and the smoldering remains of randomly inflamed buildings were still glowing beneath the starless sky. Inside those structures left standing, store shelves had been violently emptied, their contents scattered across the floors. Safes were open as a result of both compliance and force, the money stolen out of spite with only a few rogue coins left behind. Every piece of handcrafted furniture in the cottages had been angrily overturned and every door stood ajar. Even the feather-stuffed pillows and straw-filled mattresses were sliced open and gutted as though something was expected to be concealed inside. Now this community was just a ruin, the makings of a ghost town.

The only consolation left was that screams no longer ripped through the crisp spring breeze, but that was because there was no one left to make them. Blood soaked the earth, drained from the bodies of men, women, and innocent children, lying a strewn in doorways, streets, alleyways, and wherever else they had fallen. Most had refused to yield to the invaders’ demands, but even those that cooperated were murdered, sentenced to rot among those citizens they betrayed the moment they were no longer useful. Only a fortunate few managed to escape the assault, having disappeared into the wilderness, never to be seen again. Now there was no one left to mourn, not a soul to make sound.

* * * * * * * * *

The Ashen Assembly made its way through the dense, dewy western forest in the vast country of Xandresh. It was nearly sunrise and they were hours into their journey to the next town. The previous had been yet another failure, and The Ash, mounted upon his horse and leading the group, was burning with silent rage. It was not there either.

We’ve just thrown away three more days insufficiently searching, thought The Ash, and those unruly villagers certainly didn’t make it any easier! It seems the term “compliance” was not in most of those people’s vocabulary. In fact, The Assembly was “forced” to cause fare more destruction than they had in any other community before to simply get the job done. This pointless looting must go on no longer! We need to be far more focused, work faster and more productively than ever if we have a chance at finding It before the Intrepid Faction--or worse, the “rightful” heir.

It was in the far western section of the country, the prophecy burned into The Ash’s mind was clear on that much. The Ash knew power would be his the moment It was in his grasp and the sheer greed that drove him was getting more potent every day. The Ashen Assembly would take no breaks and make no stops on the two-day trip to the upcoming village. There would be no useless squandering this time. This village would be ransacked in one day.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Everyday Stuff

We finally had a sunny day today after about four yucky grey windy days. My parents and I took advantage of the sun and lounged around out back. I got some work done on Stormy's grave, cleaning out dead leaves and tall grass in the area and edging it off with brick. The headstone hasn't arrived yet, but there's a place for it, and my dad is going to put a layer of cement on the dirt inside the brick area and I'll cover that with colorful stones. I obviously love my pets very much.

It's dark out now, getting ready to rain. I really love spring storms, the way the grey sky somehow makes the new green grass and leaves below it so vivid. Nebraska is in tornado alley, but so far my area hasn't had any close calls. Tornado weather is quite exciting and fascinating for me, and as long as no one is hurt, I love when they form nearby. I have yet to take a picture of a tornado and that's something I'd love to capture. Hail is pretty interesting to watch as well...

Changing the subject entirely, I've been looking in to adopting a new kitty. The zoo here at home has shrunk quite a bit and there's room to dish out some more animal lovin'. I browsed adoptable pets around my area on the internet and a gorgeous long haired tortoise shell kitty caught my eye. Her name is Mia and she is described as a little shy, just like Stormy. She is a few towns away and it will take up a good part of the day there and back to get her, but it would be worth it. I've emailed the shelter inquiring about the adoption process they have, and I really hope it works out. Mia looks like a sweetheart.

Changing the subject yet again, I have also been browsing ultra compact digital cameras on the net. I currently use a Canon Powershot S1 IS, and it's been great, but I need something tiny and of quality that I can carry everywhere because photography is a lovely addiction and there are photo opportunities all over the place. The camera I eventually buy will likely have more megapixels than my Canon, because it seems every camera does these days. I only have 3.2mp as of now, and I hope to upgrade to at least five. The brand will probably also be a Canon, otherwise a Sony. I'm pretty picky with my instruments and I take photography very seriously.

Below is one of my original photos , as well as a picture of Mia....have a good evening, all.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

25 Questions

Tom McCarty posted a list of 25 thought provoking questions, and I was intrigued enough to answer them:

1. If you had to pick a way to die, what would it be and why? As I mentioned in a previous post, I want to die saving someone's life, because it's the ultimate sacrifice.

2. If you could meet someone from your past that you have lost touch with, who would it be and why? A girl named Rachael that I met in 6th grade because she seemed like a good person, but I didn't get the chance to get to know her.

3. If you could only see two people before you died, who would they be and why? My parents because they love me the most and deserve to see me one last time in this life.

4. What is your greatest goal in life? To be a positive Christian role model as a writer, or in anything I choose to do, and to save as many animals as I can.

5. What has been your greatest accomplishment in life thus far? Just growing up, becoming who I am today.

6. Who has had the greatest impact on your life and why? There are many people that I appreciate for a wide range of reasons. But the obvious and most true answer is Jesus.

7. If you were given 1 million dollars and had to give it away, who or what would you give it to? If it had to be just one place/person to give it to, I'd pick the Humane Society, otherwise I'd also give to my sister, family, Kimberly, and some deserving strangers.

8. What things drive you to succeed in life? My faith, because it is my life.

9. What is the general end (reason/purpose) to everything you hope to achieve in life? To glorify God and make an impact on the world.

10. Who do you wish you could spend more time with and why? My best friend Kimberly because she's away at school and I love and miss her.

11. What do you look for in the opposite sex aside from physical characteristics? The first thing I notice is general demeanor. I get a sense about people right away. Things I consciously look for are faith, integrity, humility, and a creative nature.

12. What do you look for in a good friend? Originality in almost any form. A sense of subtlety. The ability to resist peer pressure and other shallow influences. A generous nature. I'm sure there's more...

13. Name a time when God has answered your prayer. This sounds small, but when I was younger, our dishwasher broke and we couldn't afford a brand new one, so when my father and I left the store, we prayed about it and on the way home, there was a free and perfectly functioning dishwasher on the lawn of Mae's Mall (little second-hand store).

14. Name a time when you were able to witness first hand the power/glory/splendor of God. I was watching my dad working on my brother's car. It was up on ramps and he went underneath, just behind the tire, I think it was the drive shaft he was trying to reach, but he couldn't reach it from there so he went under from the rear instead. When he took the drive shaft(?) out, the car started rolling back down the ramps. If my dad had been able to reach from behind the tire, he would have been crushed by it.

15. What does “living a good life” mean to you? It means being content with myself and my accomplishments.

16. When do you feel most vulnerable? Hm. When I'm talking about personal struggles, like my clinical depression.

17. When do you feel most powerful? When I'm creating things.

18. If you were placed in a dangerous situation where you had to either rescue a friend or an enemy (and not both), which one would you pick and why? That's a hard question. I'd probably die trying to save both, honestly.

19. Name a cause that you think is worth dedicating your entire life to. Animal Rescue

20. Which of your personal qualities do you wish to pass on to your children and which do you wish to prevent your children from acquiring? I want them to have my perceptiveness and ability to resist peer pressure and outside influences, such as picking up curse words from movies. I don't want them to get my anxiety.

21. If you were given an extra 2 hours in your day (26-hour day), what would you do with it? Gosh. Um, I really have no idea. Probably doing something creative or playing with my pets.

22. If you knew a loved one was going to die tomorrow, how would you treat them and what would you do with them? I hope I'd be able to treat them the way I always do, because I want to be loving to everyone I love all the time, but since no one's perfect I'd tell them I love them and not to be afraid.

23. If you could ask God one question, what would it be? That's a tough one. There really isn't anything I can think of that I can't wait until I die to know.

24. If you knew Jesus was returning tomorrow, how would you prepare? I'd try to open as many people's hearts to Him as possible

25. If you could share the Gospel with only one person, who would it be and why? Wil Wheaton, because he is such a good and talented person, but he doesn't believe in God. I don't actually know him, by the way.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

In Loving Memory


I had planned on posting a Meet the Pets about the outdoor kitty, Stormy, but I am immensely saddened to say it's going to have to be a memorial. My sweet and beautiful Maine Coon fell into the pool some time last night and drowned. It was a terrible shock and it's obviously been a tough day.

When the family first saw Stormy, back in 1997, she was a wild stray kitten, apparently abandoned. It took some work to catch her, but once we did, she allowed us to be hers. We decided to give her the name of "Stormy" because of her wild ways and the fact that she was easily spooked. It fit her perfectly, although she eventually settled a bit.

I remember that Stormy used to follow me when I went rollerblading until I picked her up and carried her as I skated. I felt so special because at that point, she rarely let anyone else pick her up. When we moved a few blocks away, I was afraid Stormy would run away, go back to our old home, but instead, she was the cat that stayed. As the years went on, the kitty became more and more comfortable around all of her people. She would come running at the sound of a lawn chair being set up because she knew someone would be there to snuggle. When the weather got cold, Stormy would come inside to sleep. She loved to knead on her people and cuddle on the couch. When I would go outside, she'd come out and rub against my legs. I'd pick her up and kiss her beautiful face and adorable paws. She loved to have her belly rubbed, the only cat I've ever had that liked it. Just a couple of weeks ago she was sprawled on her back in my lap as I rubbed that furry white belly. She loved to explore the garage and sleep on the car, leaving kitty prints in her wake. Stormy rarely left her back yard, always making it easy to find her and give her love.

She had the most gorgeous multi-colored and soft coat, and big beautiful green eyes. Her features were outlined in a way that it made her look like she had makeup on, with black outlined eyes, and orange nose, so exotic. Her feet were snowy white like her belly and chest, such a contrast to the rest of her fur. I loved to just look at her. Her meow was cute and meek, a representation of her shyness toward strangers and making her all the more irresistable. I was so proud to be her person.

I love you, sweet Stormy, my pretty kitty. You will be missed.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Going Off Center



I have recently developed an interesting fascination with the actor Gary Oldman. This happens to me from time to time. I see an actor that sparks my interest and I end up wanting to watch all of his works, look up his biography, etc. Gary Oldman sparked my interest as Sirius Black in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I did know him previously as Zorg in The Fifth Element, but when that movie came out, I didn't appreciate the actor's talent; I merely hated the character, like I was supposed to.

Now, I can appreciate this artist's unique technique (how fun, that rhymed) and unusual presence. He's not the leading man type, but he certainly steals a scene with the unbridled passion that emitts from his performances. I haven't seen many of Gary Oldman's works yet, mainly because Movie Gallery is the worst rental store on the planet, but I'm working on it. Dracula was on the Sci Fi channel today and I was pretty enthralled in his portrayal of the title character. Such torment and contradiction of feelings. He did so well in all of the physically different aspects of the role, I nearly forgot about how terrible Keanu Reeves was in the film. Nearly. The next Gary Oldman film I want to see is Immortal Beloved in which he plays Beethoven. I may have seen this movie in school, but I'm not sure.

I love discovering new favorites. I know film and television are often looked upon as shallow means of entertainment, but I see it differently. I've learned so much from the two and I don't think I would have the emotional maturity or even the vocabulary I have today had I not been exposed to the movies and programs that I was at a young age. But that's just my result, of course. Anyway, it's fun to find a slightly more obscure artist and come to appreciate their work. The reward for stepping away from the Meg Ryans and the Brad Pitts and moving off center to the Vincent D'Onofrios and...yeah, sorry I can't think of a female...is appreciating a completely different body of work and set of roles. I never would have watched the wonderful little gem of a movie called Happy Accidents if I hadn't come to appreciate D'Onofrio in The Thirteenth Floor. I never would have looked at Dracula the way I did today if Gary's interpretation Sirius Black wasn't so outstanding. I love the art and I love the quirks. That's the kind of actor I'd be if I went into the profession; off center. It's alot more interesting that way.

Not a lot of people really appreciate the talent of the supporting or antagonistic characters in a film and there's such talent there. Take a closer look at Gary Oldman's Zorg in The Fifth Element, or Vincent D'Onofrio's Cark Stargher in The Cell and you'll see a real method there and a truly believable performance. After all, it takes a gifted actor to get an audience to feel a passionate emotion for their character...like hate.

I stayed up too late again. Have a good week, everyone.