Mishmash

I've got all kinds of things zooming around in my head. I've got some sadness, some happiness, some anxiety and some calm. So I've got this big mishmash of stuff in my head and on my heart. In no particular order, here 'tis.

• I've begun the process of applying for grad school. The first place I applied is to my alma mater, TWU. I figure I won't have to wait as long to hear if I'm accepted or not, seeing as how they already have all my transcripts and all my academic references work there. All they have to do is pick up a phone and call Dr. X and say, "So, whaddaya think of Ms. Snarkypants?" I'm also applying to some schools that are here in (or near) San Antonio. I'm applying for a couple of different programs - Masters w/Initial Teacher Certification (MS Science, MS Technology Applications dual certification), Library Science (because I'm such a book and information nerd), and I'm even batting around the idea of the Women's Studies M.A. program. True, this would ensure me a life only able to work in academia, but I think I could handle that. They also have a Ph.D. program in Women's Studies. I REALLY enjoyed all my WS classes I took as an undergrad. I like how so many different subjects can be viewed through the WS lens.


• I've really been struggling with self-doubt and feelings of worthlessness here lately. This has been dragging me down in lots of ways, leading my mind to race a lot - and never shut up. Which has been preventing me from sleeping. Which has led to lots of reading and TV watching at 3 a.m. Not conducive to cognitive thinking the next day at work, let me tell you. Feeling like this has also affected other things, like singing, for instance. I love to sing and I always have. One of my earliest memories is listening to my sister's Farrell & Farrell cassette tape, singing along with the song "Through Your Eyes." At the end, there's a note that's held out for a while, and it's on the higher end of the range. I held out the note so long that my sister, not realizing it was me singing and not the tape, came running into the bedroom to see what I had done to her tape to make it hold out that long. She was very musical, and knew how long the note was held out on the tape. So it freaked her out when it seemed like the note went on longer than it should. I've always, always loved to sing. I sing when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm scared, when I'm lonely. But, as much as I love to do it, and as much as I want to do it, there's this voice in my head that tells me I'm not good enough. That my voice is horrible. That no one wants to hear me sing. That I sound like a frog croaking. Then I start remembering all the times growing up I was told by teachers or students or whomever that I should just shut up and stop singing. Then I doubt. And I worry. And I fret. So then I don't sing as much, even though I really want to. And then I get sad. And so the circle begins again. This has been bothering me a lot lately, because I really really REALLY want to sing something for the offertory music at church. And just when I think, "A ha! That's the song I want to sing!", those old doubts start hitting at me again.


• I just found out someone I had a long-term relationship with (albeit off and on) got married. We never seemed to feel the same way about each other at the same time, so there was a lot of back and forth in that relationship. When I visited home in 2006, I saw him again. I made an off-hand comment that was really stupid, and he never spoke to me again. At least, I think my stupid remark is why he never contacted me again. Seeing as how he never told me, I don't really know WHY. We had plans to go out to dinner or something one night while I was there, and he never showed up, never returned a phone call, or anything. My attempts to contact him since then were never successful, either. It always left a little hole in me. In a way, finding out he got married is sad and happy all at once. I'm sad that he didn't think enough of me to tell me outright "You said something stupid and I didn't like it." I'm sad that he didn't think enough of the fact that we were friends first to ever return any of my phone calls, e-mails, or facebook friend requests. I always wondered "what if" with him. But I'm happy for him, happy that he has someone he loves and who loves him in return. I'm hoping now I can move on for good from that chapter in my life. Though, let me tell you, the whole experience has done nothing for my confidence when it comes to dating!


• Susan and David are leaving next weekend to go home. I'm happy for them to be able to go back to their stuff and their friends and home... but sad that they are leaving, too. Safe travels, and we love you.

Sadness

After months of posting ads on craigslist and every other "lost/found" dog website I could find, putting ads in the newspaper, putting up flyers, begging rescue organizations to help me find a home for my stray dogs - all to no avail - I had to take one of the dogs to the pound last night. It broke my heart. I chose the dog that had caused me the most trouble - she chewed everything, loved to drag my stuff outside through the doggie door and destroy it, and got loose and got pregnant, to boot. But she also would curl up by my feet, rest her sweet, soft furry face on my knee, and look at me with absolute adoration. And I took her to the pound.

As soon as we got there, she started crying. So did I. She hid under my chair while we waited in the lobby for the "intake process" to begin. She pressed herself as far up against the back of my legs as she could and shivered and shook the whole 15 minutes we had to wait.

And I bawled all the harder when they took her. She cried and scrambled to get back to me. The absolute betrayal she felt was clear. I know I had no choice, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit. I'll miss you, Li'l Bit. I hope they find you a forever home, but I know the odds are against it.

I wish I were young enough to delude myself into believing they'll find her a home right away. That they'll be able to find someone to love her and care for her, train her out of destroying stuff. But I know the pound only holds stray dogs for four days before they deem them "adoptable" or euthanize them. If a dog does, miraculously, get deemed "adoptable", they only hold them for about a week in the pound before they destroy them. And in that week, sweet, loving dogs are held in cold, concrete cages. No freedom to run and play. No one to rub them behind their ears or find that special "tickle spot" that makes them kick their legs and get a look of absolute bliss on their faces. They're kept locked in cages, where I'm sure they wonder what they did wrong, why their people don't love them anymore, why, why, why.

I know I had no choice. These stray dogs are killing me - financially, emotionally, and just the hassle. It's part of what's keeping me up all night. I exhausted every other possibility. Again, it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit.

November Blahs

November is typically not a good month for me. The weather starts turning blah, which in turn makes me feel so very not cheerful. This month also brings the anniversary of my mother's death. Yes, it's been years, but it still hurts. November also brings Thanksgiving, with its reminders of all the people no longer with us on this earth whom I have loved - Mom, Jodi, Dad (yes, he annoyed the piss out of me and often hurt my feelings, but I still loved him), and Granny Goldey (true, we didn't see eye-to-eye, but she loved me in her own way).

This week has been really rough on me because of strays. I'm all emotional anyway (see above paragraph), but then, all the strays in San Antonio seem to have found me and are ripping my heart out by showing me the evils that man is capable of. If any of you have known me for a while, you know I've always been a bleeding heart for animals. Here lately, my heart has been bleeding a lot. There's the smart, beautiful (and literally starved) black lab young girl whom I have tried to help, only to have her jump out of my yard and take off. She was comfortable enough with me to try to climb into my lap (even though she weighs probably near what Jamie does) and lick me repeatedly. But she was antsy being confined to the yard and sailed over the fence. I've looked everywhere for her, but haven't seen her since Monday morning. I'm so worried about her!

No sooner had she taken off, when another black female dog of slightly smaller stature showed up at my house. She's starved too. Both little girls are so skinny their bones are easily visible. As in, their hip bones jut up so sharply that their skin looks like paper about to be ripped through. She has scars all over her body where someone has repeatedly whipped her with something - most likely rope or a belt. She won't come anywhere near me, and runs off if I speak or move toward her. She comes back gratefully though each morning for the bowl of kibble I lay out for her.

Then there's also the neighbor's Yorkie. He got out and came for a visit the other day, too. He's fed fairly decently and has another doggie to play with - but he's been starved as well, just starved for affection. He and his doggie friend will wait for hours, patiently by the fence, waiting for me to come out with my dogs. Then he and his buddy will wait for me to come over and pet them, crying until I do so. It rips my heart out, as well, so see such sociable dogs locked up in a yard all the time and no one from their house EVER comes out to pet them or play with them.

Of course, it doesn't help that all this comes on the heels of that poor kitty I talked about before. I tell you what, though. I'd love to get my hands on the people who were supposed to be taking care of these animals. I'm really hoping one day they will get a taste of their own medicine.

Not the Best Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday, and it wasn't the best one I've ever had, I have to say. First, Jamie is still sick, so there's all the worry about getting him feeling better (and all the whining and clingyness I have to deal with because he doesn't feel good), and then there's the fact that I still had to go to work. Then, when I get to work, I find out I'm going to have to stay late. I was originally told it would only be about 30 minutes. NOT! I worked 2.5 hours later than normal because we had a report that had to be turned in that day for a legal case. Grrrrr!

Then, when I got home, I had to help Jamie type up and submit via e-mail the school assignments that he didn't turn in when he was supposed to. This is the end of the grading period, so everything had to be in by today. If he had been well enough to go to school, he could have turned them in then, but I'm keeping him home again to allow him to completely get over the crud he has, as well as to not pick up more germs while he's still trying to fight off something else. Anyway, this kept me up until around midnight.

Then, this morning, I discovered that the poor, sweet kitten that I've been feeding at work and trying to find a home for had been hit by a car and killed. I couldn't take her home because 1) I'm severely allergic and so is Jamie, 2) our dogs would have eaten her alive. I tried taking her to a no-kill shelter, but they didn't have any room. The city pound is so overrun with strays that it euthanizes all unadopted animals after only 3 days, so I couldn't take her there! I had found a program that would have come and picked her up, but they couldn't come out to get her until next week. So now it is too late for that poor, sweet baby. She was not a baby-baby kitten, but wasn't full grown yet, either. She was very sweet and friendly, obviously domesticated. She just showed up one day about a month or so ago. Two weeks ago she disappeared, and I was hoping someone had taken her home. But I kept putting food and water out for her, just in case. Then this morning, she was hit right in front of my office building, right where I could see her laying in the road from my desk. I cried like a baby when I saw her!

Now I'm all head-achy and feeling discombobulated. I hope it's just from the crying, and not because I'm coming down with whatever Jamie has. When I get home tonight, I'm parking my butt on the couch and not moving unless I absolutely have to. Hopefully that will shake this tired, achy, sad feeling.

I'm sorry this is such a down post. And all those who sent me facebook birthday wishes, I haven't forgotten you, and I sincerely appreciate your wishing me a happy birthday. Love to all, and I promise to try to be in a better mood when I post next time.