Matthew Perry walked by me last night. Looking hot, I may add! He was at the movies with some friends. The friend I was with has been to the movies 5 times since she's lived in LA, including last night. Three of those five? She's seen Mr. Perry. Lucky girl. After he left, she started talking about how funny it is she's seen him so much to which I promptly responded, "Rachel! Stop stealing my thunder!"
So officially, I've figured out what I do when I see someone I love. I freeze and go silent and concentrate on not passing out. The probability of me ever being able to actually speak words is so slim I wonder if I'll ever have the guts to say, "Good job in Numb", which is what I had been planning on saying when I finally crossed paths with Matthew.
My pup is sick but she's not acting like it except a few choice moments in which my heart falls to my feet. We're going to the vet tomorrow to figure out just what's going on. I'm pretty nervous about that actually. Moving on...
In the span of twenty four hours, I got two exciting job prospects placed in my "Maybe" column.
And, you know when you make coffee and it's all wrong, too watery or too strong or during the process of coffee-making, the filter was pushed inwards causing grounds to spill into the maker, and its so much that when you put in the creamer you can see the grounds floating? And you try to drink it anyway, but it's so bad you have to deprive your body of caffeine for a longer time, so you pour the coffee into the sink and frown as the too light or too dark coffee circles in the drain, (or more realistically, splashes down the pile of dirty dishes, going to a drain that you know is down there somewhere). And you vow to make it worth your while this time by making the best pot of coffee you have ever made, but when you finally get it all made, you taste it, and while it's a little better, it's not the best cup you've ever made, but you drink it anyway, because third times a charm doesn't apply to you when you need caffeine and don't want to waste anymore of your freshly ground coffee, and even though it doesn't taste just right, you smell it and need it, so you take it down with a grimace and vow that tomorrow, you will make the best pot of coffee you have ever made.
This is how I feel about most of my life right now.
On the subject of coffee, just wanted to let you know that while I still love my coffeemaker, the honeymoon is sooo over. Just not putting out the way it use to, you know? (That was just too easy.)
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
sophisticated technology that freaks me out
ugh. I just got off work. blimey. Long night with lots of "I don't even want to BE HERE" moments and even more, "can I tell my co-worker to eff off and still retain my work friendships?" moments. I really don't even want to get into it. Let's just say "ugh" and be done with it. ugh.
What I do want to get into is how Facebook has been freaking me out lately. Seriously. Have you guys ever checked out the ads they have on there? At first it was innocent enough, an ad for a movie coming to DVD that I had stated on my profile I liked. Easy enough. Then it got a little more strange when things I Googled started popping up. Still, I found an explanation. It can see what I Google. Freaky? Yes. Suspect? These days, no. I started seeing "Quit Smoking" ads and found that strange too. But I figured that it was a campaign for all young people.
THEN, my friends, it gets really weird. So I ate at The Cheesecake Factory on Sunday night. This is the first time I believe I have ever typed "Cheesecake factory". Well yesterday, I'm playing a game of poker on Facebook, my new addiction, and there pops up an ad. For what? THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY. Which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. After being reminded of my gluttonous dinner, I start THINKING about how I need to work out. And no joke, an ad for a personal trainer comes up. Now, what the eff is going on here? Is it reading my mind??? Can it access my financial records?!? I know that these ads are specifically geared towards me because of the previous examples. (They always have something to do with what I've typed/messaged about lately.) But these last ones just knocked me for a second. I hadn't told anyone about my dinner. I had told less people about how I was thinking about getting a personal trainer. Then I start thinking about all the other ads that have popped up and realized that Facebook knows more about me than my own mother!
And it has seemed to paint a portrait of me that freaks me out a bit. All my vices on the glaring surface of my computer. It has hit all my weak spots at one point or another. And I'm a little pissed actually that they haven't brought out any of my fun and exciting qualities! "Awesome kites!" "Sky diving lessons!" "Dog parks!" "Bikes!" "Books!" They have just seemed to harp a bit on my downfalls here and have put me in some category I don't want to be in. (If ads start popping up for Moo-Moos and Hoverrounds I tossing the damn computer out of the window.)
Freaks. me. out.
Oh! I have an even more horrifying thought! What if Facebook can gather enough information to hypothesis your date of death and starts advertising things one might need in order for such an event. Horror movie! Hello! Hand over that paycheck South Africa, (they love those low-budg horror flicks, or so I hear).
Oh! One more Hopper photo for you to snuggle with. This one is from Malibu this past Saturday. She was digging up our feet! Or as my mom likes to think - looking for my lost car key. Yes, lost car key. On the beach. On the far reaches of Los Angeles County. With a cell phone in my locked car. With the knowledge I had been playing in the water. I didn't find the key, (I fear it may be well on it's way to Japan by now), but I've realized the more I tell this story, the more anticlimatic it is. So for entertainments sake, let's just pretend my window wasn't cracked just so and I didn't have a valet key tucked in my console, and instead, Hopper, friend, and I were forced to camp out on the beach until we finally ran into a nice fellow carrying a slim jim who hot wired the car and sent us on our way. Yes, that would have been a better story. Oh! Picture!
Sleep time!
What I do want to get into is how Facebook has been freaking me out lately. Seriously. Have you guys ever checked out the ads they have on there? At first it was innocent enough, an ad for a movie coming to DVD that I had stated on my profile I liked. Easy enough. Then it got a little more strange when things I Googled started popping up. Still, I found an explanation. It can see what I Google. Freaky? Yes. Suspect? These days, no. I started seeing "Quit Smoking" ads and found that strange too. But I figured that it was a campaign for all young people.
THEN, my friends, it gets really weird. So I ate at The Cheesecake Factory on Sunday night. This is the first time I believe I have ever typed "Cheesecake factory". Well yesterday, I'm playing a game of poker on Facebook, my new addiction, and there pops up an ad. For what? THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY. Which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. After being reminded of my gluttonous dinner, I start THINKING about how I need to work out. And no joke, an ad for a personal trainer comes up. Now, what the eff is going on here? Is it reading my mind??? Can it access my financial records?!? I know that these ads are specifically geared towards me because of the previous examples. (They always have something to do with what I've typed/messaged about lately.) But these last ones just knocked me for a second. I hadn't told anyone about my dinner. I had told less people about how I was thinking about getting a personal trainer. Then I start thinking about all the other ads that have popped up and realized that Facebook knows more about me than my own mother!
And it has seemed to paint a portrait of me that freaks me out a bit. All my vices on the glaring surface of my computer. It has hit all my weak spots at one point or another. And I'm a little pissed actually that they haven't brought out any of my fun and exciting qualities! "Awesome kites!" "Sky diving lessons!" "Dog parks!" "Bikes!" "Books!" They have just seemed to harp a bit on my downfalls here and have put me in some category I don't want to be in. (If ads start popping up for Moo-Moos and Hoverrounds I tossing the damn computer out of the window.)
Freaks. me. out.
Oh! I have an even more horrifying thought! What if Facebook can gather enough information to hypothesis your date of death and starts advertising things one might need in order for such an event. Horror movie! Hello! Hand over that paycheck South Africa, (they love those low-budg horror flicks, or so I hear).
Oh! One more Hopper photo for you to snuggle with. This one is from Malibu this past Saturday. She was digging up our feet! Or as my mom likes to think - looking for my lost car key. Yes, lost car key. On the beach. On the far reaches of Los Angeles County. With a cell phone in my locked car. With the knowledge I had been playing in the water. I didn't find the key, (I fear it may be well on it's way to Japan by now), but I've realized the more I tell this story, the more anticlimatic it is. So for entertainments sake, let's just pretend my window wasn't cracked just so and I didn't have a valet key tucked in my console, and instead, Hopper, friend, and I were forced to camp out on the beach until we finally ran into a nice fellow carrying a slim jim who hot wired the car and sent us on our way. Yes, that would have been a better story. Oh! Picture!
Sleep time!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
I Love Dogs!
I feel like my day was ripped from the pages of a screwball comedy. I've had the pleasure and privilege to take care of three dogs today. Not by choice, mind you, by default. At least if I had known what I was getting into, I could have mentally prepared. Alas, I haven't been this mad at a dog(s) since Hopper ate my Liz Phair CD. I cried extraordinarily large, hot, white tears. 
Our three stars:
Hopper-You know her. She's my little lady.
Cillian-My roommates little lady.
Stanley-My roommate's friend's puppy in which she was taking care of this weekend.
The set-up:
Roommate unexpectedly had to go elsewhere for the evening last night and much of the day today. Leaving me with default doggy duty.
My day began as the sun rose and woke little Stanley up. It was about six am. He decided that it was time to chew my headband, a hole in my carpet, and then wake his friends. Hopper, being well-trained to not rise before me, held her position on my bed, but Cillian was up and ready to play. When I refused to open my door, and let loose the herd to run rampidly through the house, no doubt waking my downstairs neighbors and thoroughly pissing them off, they revolted against me. All jumping on my bed, BARKING, AT ME, to wake up.
Barking. Enter my new pet peeve. Newly discovered. Barking, incessantly that is, dogs. Dogs that bark at every noise they hear, and that won't stop with a simple "Shut up!" Multiple dogs doing this may be a cause of death for me in the future. I nearly climbed out my window right then and there. Luckily, for your entertainment pleasure, I decided against it.
Not so luckily, these dogs were up. Up and not going back to sleep with any traditional methods of persuasion. Tranquilizers weren't at my disposal. Stanley, being an un-housetrained puppy, had to immediately be taken out. He's nearly eight months so I'm not exactly sure why he's not completely housetrained. But he's not, and he doesn't seem to care when you rub his face in his mistakes.
So I rolled out of bed with probably a picturesque face and an attitude that even coffee wouldn't fix. The second I got off the bed, the dogs were running around in circles and bounding all over the place, surely waking the neighbors, despite my best efforts.
Walking three dogs is hard enough. When they all want to go in different directions and love twisting up in each other's leashes, it's far worse. Stanley thought it was a good idea to pee on Hopper while she was peeing and Cillian saw a squirrel. I silently pleaded for my roommates timely return. Some how I made it through the morning, which is actually pretty long when you wake up at six. I had to seperate the dogs quite a bit in the early hours, still trying to keep the pretense of quiet.
By ten, when I hear the downstairs people mulling around, I let them be the wild animals they had wanted to be. What do they do? Sleep! Of course! By this time I had three cups of coffee pumping through my veins so no sleep for me.
Stanley then proceeds to poop in the den and pee in my room. Lovely. This is right after me taking them out again, mind you. And on this trip, instead of actually going to the bathroom, (obviously), Stanley thought it was a good idea to chase at a frou-frou dog of a not-so-friendly neighbor. When we get back in, he goes for my sunglasses, actually in the process of chomping down on them, and I yell at him louder than I've yelled at any other living thing ever. He smiled at me a wagged his tail. Infuriating.
At lunch, I take the dogs in the car to get some well-deserved lunch, (for me). Here, they were surprisingly well-behaved. Looking back, perhaps I should have just driven around all day.
Home again, Cillian, in the hopes that every car passing by was her mother returning home, found it important to bark as loudly as possible in case roommate was to miss the turn. She also found her release of energy in taunting Hopper all day, trying to get her to fight. Which with Stanley's presence, these two fighting is not an anomaly.
By nightfall, with roommate still not back, I knew I had to take the dogs out again. Courageously, I leashed them up and went where few have gone before. (I'm an exaggerator by nature.) The highlight of this walk was, beside the comically twisted leashes throughout and the three near trips of yours truly, was when Stanley's leash got stuck, somehow, inside of Hopper's collar. While I was trying to keep the dogs still long enough to untangle, Cillian decides now is a perfect time to finally get a snap in on Hopper. While my head is right by Hopper's face, she starts trying to bait Hopper into a fight. When I yank her leash, Hopper yelps and I realize I have yanked the wrong leash. At this point, what can you do but tredge on and go home and drink at beer at 7 o'clock on a Sunday evening? Nothing. So with choas around me, I sat here, where I am still, trying to ignore the loud barks and bounding dogs throughout the house.
I'm officially taking myself off doggy duty. Come hell or low water.
Our three stars:
Hopper-You know her. She's my little lady.
Cillian-My roommates little lady.
Stanley-My roommate's friend's puppy in which she was taking care of this weekend.
The set-up:
Roommate unexpectedly had to go elsewhere for the evening last night and much of the day today. Leaving me with default doggy duty.
My day began as the sun rose and woke little Stanley up. It was about six am. He decided that it was time to chew my headband, a hole in my carpet, and then wake his friends. Hopper, being well-trained to not rise before me, held her position on my bed, but Cillian was up and ready to play. When I refused to open my door, and let loose the herd to run rampidly through the house, no doubt waking my downstairs neighbors and thoroughly pissing them off, they revolted against me. All jumping on my bed, BARKING, AT ME, to wake up.
Barking. Enter my new pet peeve. Newly discovered. Barking, incessantly that is, dogs. Dogs that bark at every noise they hear, and that won't stop with a simple "Shut up!" Multiple dogs doing this may be a cause of death for me in the future. I nearly climbed out my window right then and there. Luckily, for your entertainment pleasure, I decided against it.
Not so luckily, these dogs were up. Up and not going back to sleep with any traditional methods of persuasion. Tranquilizers weren't at my disposal. Stanley, being an un-housetrained puppy, had to immediately be taken out. He's nearly eight months so I'm not exactly sure why he's not completely housetrained. But he's not, and he doesn't seem to care when you rub his face in his mistakes.
So I rolled out of bed with probably a picturesque face and an attitude that even coffee wouldn't fix. The second I got off the bed, the dogs were running around in circles and bounding all over the place, surely waking the neighbors, despite my best efforts.
Walking three dogs is hard enough. When they all want to go in different directions and love twisting up in each other's leashes, it's far worse. Stanley thought it was a good idea to pee on Hopper while she was peeing and Cillian saw a squirrel. I silently pleaded for my roommates timely return. Some how I made it through the morning, which is actually pretty long when you wake up at six. I had to seperate the dogs quite a bit in the early hours, still trying to keep the pretense of quiet.
By ten, when I hear the downstairs people mulling around, I let them be the wild animals they had wanted to be. What do they do? Sleep! Of course! By this time I had three cups of coffee pumping through my veins so no sleep for me.
Stanley then proceeds to poop in the den and pee in my room. Lovely. This is right after me taking them out again, mind you. And on this trip, instead of actually going to the bathroom, (obviously), Stanley thought it was a good idea to chase at a frou-frou dog of a not-so-friendly neighbor. When we get back in, he goes for my sunglasses, actually in the process of chomping down on them, and I yell at him louder than I've yelled at any other living thing ever. He smiled at me a wagged his tail. Infuriating.
At lunch, I take the dogs in the car to get some well-deserved lunch, (for me). Here, they were surprisingly well-behaved. Looking back, perhaps I should have just driven around all day.
Home again, Cillian, in the hopes that every car passing by was her mother returning home, found it important to bark as loudly as possible in case roommate was to miss the turn. She also found her release of energy in taunting Hopper all day, trying to get her to fight. Which with Stanley's presence, these two fighting is not an anomaly.
By nightfall, with roommate still not back, I knew I had to take the dogs out again. Courageously, I leashed them up and went where few have gone before. (I'm an exaggerator by nature.) The highlight of this walk was, beside the comically twisted leashes throughout and the three near trips of yours truly, was when Stanley's leash got stuck, somehow, inside of Hopper's collar. While I was trying to keep the dogs still long enough to untangle, Cillian decides now is a perfect time to finally get a snap in on Hopper. While my head is right by Hopper's face, she starts trying to bait Hopper into a fight. When I yank her leash, Hopper yelps and I realize I have yanked the wrong leash. At this point, what can you do but tredge on and go home and drink at beer at 7 o'clock on a Sunday evening? Nothing. So with choas around me, I sat here, where I am still, trying to ignore the loud barks and bounding dogs throughout the house.
I'm officially taking myself off doggy duty. Come hell or low water.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A Few Quick Musings
-I was reheating a Subway sandwich the other day when something struck me: Why doesn't Subway bread get hard in the microwave? Seriously! It seems to get softer! What is their special ingredient? Why has this oddity never been publicly speculated about like the secret ingredient in PinkBerry debacle? This info should become public knowledge soon! (Is it cynical for me to wonder if their rolls are in fact just a bread-like substance?)
-Apparently there might be a Gilmore girls movie in a couple of years. This excites me, yes. But in order for it to be successful, I believe it needs to happen relatively soon! Strike while the iron is hot. (Or not cold, rather.) Unfortuntely, after a certain amount of time, the only people that will be interested in this are the hardcore fans. So brains and muscle behind this idea, get to work! "Gilmore girls: The Movie" Summer 2008.
-Good luck Christie! And get back to packing! At least if you're going to procrastinate, call me!
-I like the lyrics, "Laughing at the sunrise, like it's been up all night."
-Unrelated to the lyrics above, I'm totally falling head over heels for The Beatles for the first time in my life. Right now.
-When my pup whimpers in her sleep, I gently rub her back and it settles her. How freaking cute!
-I haven't been able to watch the Veronica Mars SERIES finale just yet. Why do all the shows I love get cancelled? (Studio 60 on top of everything else!) And I know it's typical, but I need to reference an old Friends episode because this reminds me of something that reminds me of Friends. (Follow?) People say that I have Phoebe-esque qualities sometimes. I just remembered that when I was little, everytime I went to my grandparents house it seemed someone died. I remember being paranoid that it was me. [Paranoia.] I told myself that it was a coincidence. [Schizophrenic.] Oh! Reference? When Phoebe is convinced someone dies each time she goes to the Dentist. This storyline inspired one of my favorite Friends lines ever!
When you're alive, you answer your phone!
-A bird flew into my house today! Which only serves to remind me of the lovely weather I've been enjoying lately. (Open windows, you see.)
-I'm tired.
-Apparently there might be a Gilmore girls movie in a couple of years. This excites me, yes. But in order for it to be successful, I believe it needs to happen relatively soon! Strike while the iron is hot. (Or not cold, rather.) Unfortuntely, after a certain amount of time, the only people that will be interested in this are the hardcore fans. So brains and muscle behind this idea, get to work! "Gilmore girls: The Movie" Summer 2008.
-Good luck Christie! And get back to packing! At least if you're going to procrastinate, call me!
-I like the lyrics, "Laughing at the sunrise, like it's been up all night."
-Unrelated to the lyrics above, I'm totally falling head over heels for The Beatles for the first time in my life. Right now.
-When my pup whimpers in her sleep, I gently rub her back and it settles her. How freaking cute!
-I haven't been able to watch the Veronica Mars SERIES finale just yet. Why do all the shows I love get cancelled? (Studio 60 on top of everything else!) And I know it's typical, but I need to reference an old Friends episode because this reminds me of something that reminds me of Friends. (Follow?) People say that I have Phoebe-esque qualities sometimes. I just remembered that when I was little, everytime I went to my grandparents house it seemed someone died. I remember being paranoid that it was me. [Paranoia.] I told myself that it was a coincidence. [Schizophrenic.] Oh! Reference? When Phoebe is convinced someone dies each time she goes to the Dentist. This storyline inspired one of my favorite Friends lines ever!
When you're alive, you answer your phone!
-A bird flew into my house today! Which only serves to remind me of the lovely weather I've been enjoying lately. (Open windows, you see.)
-I'm tired.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Dog Fight
If you can't tell I'm a blonde by my rapidly growing roots, going inside of my head would certainly do the trick. (Yes, a period. I'm copying and pasting, which I'm getting pretty good at.)
I just saw that I had 52 posts, and in my head I was like: "That's one for each day of the year!"
Yeah...maybe I shouldn't say those things outloud.
So I just got in from my morning walk with my pup, in which at one point I was forced to football tackle her in someone's front yard. Yes, football tackle. I was lying on the ground, (in who knows what). What happened was we walked by this car with a dog inside who started ferociously barking at me and my roommates' ('s?) dogs. The man inside the car, grabbed his pup and and pulled him down, and the barking ceased. We went on about our way, and the dogs stopped to sniff the ground. We started walking again when we heard, "Oh shit!". The guy was out of his car, and before I knew it, the mad dog from the car was unleashed and picking a fight with Hopper, who wasn't having it. I don't know exactly how, but at some point I ended up on top of my pup, in a move in which instincts just took over. As I looked over, shocked that I had thrown myself to the ground, I saw that the man had done the same, perhaps taking my lead? The dog was still a barking mess, and somehow we just walked away without me giving the guy a stern talking to about leashing his dog, because all dog owners know, that sometimes, it just happens.
In fairness, I saw a leash lying on the ground so knew that he has at least attempted to leash his dog, but obviously, that didn't so much work. Well, now I have grass stains on my jeans and am mentally gearing up for a tough day of work, by far the toughest I will see in the run of this show. So I must go and meditate with my coffee a little longer.
In a side note, I realized that I missed ellipsis' more than the periods themselves. Copying and pasting will have to do.
I just saw that I had 52 posts, and in my head I was like: "That's one for each day of the year!"
Yeah...maybe I shouldn't say those things outloud.
So I just got in from my morning walk with my pup, in which at one point I was forced to football tackle her in someone's front yard. Yes, football tackle. I was lying on the ground, (in who knows what). What happened was we walked by this car with a dog inside who started ferociously barking at me and my roommates' ('s?) dogs. The man inside the car, grabbed his pup and and pulled him down, and the barking ceased. We went on about our way, and the dogs stopped to sniff the ground. We started walking again when we heard, "Oh shit!". The guy was out of his car, and before I knew it, the mad dog from the car was unleashed and picking a fight with Hopper, who wasn't having it. I don't know exactly how, but at some point I ended up on top of my pup, in a move in which instincts just took over. As I looked over, shocked that I had thrown myself to the ground, I saw that the man had done the same, perhaps taking my lead? The dog was still a barking mess, and somehow we just walked away without me giving the guy a stern talking to about leashing his dog, because all dog owners know, that sometimes, it just happens.
In fairness, I saw a leash lying on the ground so knew that he has at least attempted to leash his dog, but obviously, that didn't so much work. Well, now I have grass stains on my jeans and am mentally gearing up for a tough day of work, by far the toughest I will see in the run of this show. So I must go and meditate with my coffee a little longer.
In a side note, I realized that I missed ellipsis' more than the periods themselves. Copying and pasting will have to do.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
No More Ms Nice Bucket
I laid on the couch last night, neck at an awkward ninty-degree angle, MSNBC talking about horrible crimes and their victims, and Hopper lying between my legs/ My eyes drifting shut and my computer, amazingly, closed beside me/ I knew I had an update to give, but my body relaxed in relief of the setting sun/
My day yesterday was an exciting one/ For me, that is/ No more celeb sightings to report or anything like that, (that seems to makes my hits skyrocket)/ Instead it was my first day of work/ Job, got, I/ Woo!
So this is how it happened: My friend gave me an email address of the VP of HR in a production company where she used to work/ My subject line was, "Ref by [friend]"/ I sent my resume and a brief cover letter/ The next day I get a call from the HR department saying that they'd love to meet with me, get me in their system so when jobs come up, they can see if it's something I'd be interested in/ I was ecstatic, as that would be the second interview scheduled that day! I was making some progress in this search I thought would never end/
I went to the first interview that was something I had found on Craigslist/ It sounded similar to my old job, but instead of TV shows, they did TV promos/ And, I wouldn't be editing/ I'd be an assitant editor, in which my duties would include some administrative work as well/ It was a staff position so there wasn't any backing out if I got the opportunity of a lifetime, and as he discussed the position in more detail, I was forced to think of how it wouldn't help me in my ultimate goals, (of taking over the world)/ Or being a television show editor/ The fact that I still had aforementioned interview relaxed me, and with another prospect, I was able to decide that this job just wasn't for me/
That afternoon, I got a call from the Prod Co HR department again, saying a position had come up and they'd like me to come in on Friday instead of Monday/ She told me breifly about the position which I told you in my previous post/
I get there and am forced to wait about an hour, and I keep the smile on my face, and am nice to the receptionist who emailed my arrival instead of called, and "didn't know the internet was down"/ Finally, she figured something fishy was going on, as she hadn't heard anything as of yet/ Finally, she called them, only to discover they hadn't known I had arrived/ She was nice enough to tell them that not only had I been on time, I had been early/
They come out apologetically and give me standard HR paperwork/ Now from my experience in NY, I loathed working through HR/ They are always stiff and condesending and like to pretend you are wasting their time, even though your presence is what pays their bills/ But this HR department was completely different/
They were warm and inviting, conversational and optimistic/ I could tell they were trying to help me find a good position for my skillset/ We discussed some of the shows that the production company did, as some of them, I watched/ We had a great conversation and then, they took me to introduce me to the post-production department/
The guys there were all nice, but I was horrified to learn they wanted me to take a test/ Now the thing about post-production is, I can do stuff with my eyes closed/ I know how to do things, and what to do, but as far as what things are called, and why certain things are done, I'm a little rusty/ Of course, this test was exactly that/ Naming cords and indentifying fasted connections by name/ Discussing the different between non-drop frame TC and drop-frame timecode/ I did the best I could and only hoped that failing the test wouldn't mean I had also failed the interview/
They told me that they'd call me today, which was great not to have to sit anxiously for days awaiting a phone call/ So I went home and relaxed, and decided that I wanted this job so much, that I wouldn't even look at new ads, and that if this didn't work out, I'd resume my search on Monday/
Well, as you've probably deducted, they called me and I had gotten the job/ It starts on Monday and I'm super excited/ They informed me of a production meeting that was happening on Saturday, (yesterday)/ I went to the studios at eleven o'clock, filled out my paperwork and met lots of people I'd be working with/ As this is a new show, they had already completed the pilot, in which I was invited to watch/ As I signed more confidentality papers yesterday than I have in my entire life combined, unfortunatly, I can't say much more about the job, other than I'll be working on set as an editor for segments used in the show, but not actually the show itself/ If that makes any sense/
After the screening, I went to the post offices and picked up my computer I would be using, loaded uo all the footage I would need, and met the person who did my job on the pilot/ It turned into a full day of activity and driving, that when I got home and ate dinner, I collasped on the couch, where I didn't mind that my neck was at an odd angle, the television was too loud and depressing, my that my dog made it difficult to stretch my legs out completely/
I have a job/ And for the most part, feel pretty confident about it/ The first episode is going to be a little rough, but other than that, I think it's going to be a great experience, and a perfect position for someone like myself/
When I finally coaxed myself off of the couch, I decided to take the dogs out on their usual late night backyard romp/ Despite the walks we had taken, the dogs were energized and whenever Hopper runs around, Cillian likes to chase her and bark loudly at her/ You'd think she was the shepherd of the two/ Well, since Cillian listens fairly well, I got her inside no problem/ Hopper, still running around like a crazy person, did something that made my heart drop/ I knew it was bound to happen sometime, but didn't think it would happen so easily/ She ran right past me, fast as light, down my driveway and into the dark/ I didn't know where she had gone/ I was thankful that not many cars were out, my in my head, cursed her uncanny ability to not listen when I tell her to "Come"/
I'm sure my blood pressure spiked, and as I barefoot down the driveway to see where she might have gone/ She stood steadfast in the neighbors yard, threatening to run if I took one step closer/ I felt like I was negotiating for a hostage, urging her to come to Momma, and nobody will get hurt/ I could never be a negotiator in real life, as my pleading did nothing/ She turned up her nose and sniffed the air, probably looking for the chicken bone yard she thinks is right around the corner/ I asked her if she wanted to eat, and in my happiest tone said, "Come on good girl! Let's get some food!" Her tail wagged, but she needed proof/ I went inside for a second and retrived her food/ I walked back outside, still with no shoes, and no jacket, and shook the food/ She started to come to me, but I sensed her hesitation/ So with her food, I turned back to the house and started walking, hearing her collar rattling behind me/ I didn't even turn to look at her, as I was sure she assumed she was sneaking behind me, not wanting me to assume that she was giving in/ I got to the stairs and walked up, she followed/ When she got inside the door, I slammed it shut behind her and turned and asked her, "What the hell where you thinking?!?!" She didn't answer, and I questioned how on earth I could try and train her to come to me when I say "come", and not turn and run away/
I know, gotta be nice when they come, but I couldn't/ I was too irritated and obviously don't have the patience it takes to correctly train a dog/ I will work on her more, but until then, she's going on her leash when she goes outside/ No more Ms Nice Bucket/
My day yesterday was an exciting one/ For me, that is/ No more celeb sightings to report or anything like that, (that seems to makes my hits skyrocket)/ Instead it was my first day of work/ Job, got, I/ Woo!
So this is how it happened: My friend gave me an email address of the VP of HR in a production company where she used to work/ My subject line was, "Ref by [friend]"/ I sent my resume and a brief cover letter/ The next day I get a call from the HR department saying that they'd love to meet with me, get me in their system so when jobs come up, they can see if it's something I'd be interested in/ I was ecstatic, as that would be the second interview scheduled that day! I was making some progress in this search I thought would never end/
I went to the first interview that was something I had found on Craigslist/ It sounded similar to my old job, but instead of TV shows, they did TV promos/ And, I wouldn't be editing/ I'd be an assitant editor, in which my duties would include some administrative work as well/ It was a staff position so there wasn't any backing out if I got the opportunity of a lifetime, and as he discussed the position in more detail, I was forced to think of how it wouldn't help me in my ultimate goals, (of taking over the world)/ Or being a television show editor/ The fact that I still had aforementioned interview relaxed me, and with another prospect, I was able to decide that this job just wasn't for me/
That afternoon, I got a call from the Prod Co HR department again, saying a position had come up and they'd like me to come in on Friday instead of Monday/ She told me breifly about the position which I told you in my previous post/
I get there and am forced to wait about an hour, and I keep the smile on my face, and am nice to the receptionist who emailed my arrival instead of called, and "didn't know the internet was down"/ Finally, she figured something fishy was going on, as she hadn't heard anything as of yet/ Finally, she called them, only to discover they hadn't known I had arrived/ She was nice enough to tell them that not only had I been on time, I had been early/
They come out apologetically and give me standard HR paperwork/ Now from my experience in NY, I loathed working through HR/ They are always stiff and condesending and like to pretend you are wasting their time, even though your presence is what pays their bills/ But this HR department was completely different/
They were warm and inviting, conversational and optimistic/ I could tell they were trying to help me find a good position for my skillset/ We discussed some of the shows that the production company did, as some of them, I watched/ We had a great conversation and then, they took me to introduce me to the post-production department/
The guys there were all nice, but I was horrified to learn they wanted me to take a test/ Now the thing about post-production is, I can do stuff with my eyes closed/ I know how to do things, and what to do, but as far as what things are called, and why certain things are done, I'm a little rusty/ Of course, this test was exactly that/ Naming cords and indentifying fasted connections by name/ Discussing the different between non-drop frame TC and drop-frame timecode/ I did the best I could and only hoped that failing the test wouldn't mean I had also failed the interview/
They told me that they'd call me today, which was great not to have to sit anxiously for days awaiting a phone call/ So I went home and relaxed, and decided that I wanted this job so much, that I wouldn't even look at new ads, and that if this didn't work out, I'd resume my search on Monday/
Well, as you've probably deducted, they called me and I had gotten the job/ It starts on Monday and I'm super excited/ They informed me of a production meeting that was happening on Saturday, (yesterday)/ I went to the studios at eleven o'clock, filled out my paperwork and met lots of people I'd be working with/ As this is a new show, they had already completed the pilot, in which I was invited to watch/ As I signed more confidentality papers yesterday than I have in my entire life combined, unfortunatly, I can't say much more about the job, other than I'll be working on set as an editor for segments used in the show, but not actually the show itself/ If that makes any sense/
After the screening, I went to the post offices and picked up my computer I would be using, loaded uo all the footage I would need, and met the person who did my job on the pilot/ It turned into a full day of activity and driving, that when I got home and ate dinner, I collasped on the couch, where I didn't mind that my neck was at an odd angle, the television was too loud and depressing, my that my dog made it difficult to stretch my legs out completely/
I have a job/ And for the most part, feel pretty confident about it/ The first episode is going to be a little rough, but other than that, I think it's going to be a great experience, and a perfect position for someone like myself/
When I finally coaxed myself off of the couch, I decided to take the dogs out on their usual late night backyard romp/ Despite the walks we had taken, the dogs were energized and whenever Hopper runs around, Cillian likes to chase her and bark loudly at her/ You'd think she was the shepherd of the two/ Well, since Cillian listens fairly well, I got her inside no problem/ Hopper, still running around like a crazy person, did something that made my heart drop/ I knew it was bound to happen sometime, but didn't think it would happen so easily/ She ran right past me, fast as light, down my driveway and into the dark/ I didn't know where she had gone/ I was thankful that not many cars were out, my in my head, cursed her uncanny ability to not listen when I tell her to "Come"/
I'm sure my blood pressure spiked, and as I barefoot down the driveway to see where she might have gone/ She stood steadfast in the neighbors yard, threatening to run if I took one step closer/ I felt like I was negotiating for a hostage, urging her to come to Momma, and nobody will get hurt/ I could never be a negotiator in real life, as my pleading did nothing/ She turned up her nose and sniffed the air, probably looking for the chicken bone yard she thinks is right around the corner/ I asked her if she wanted to eat, and in my happiest tone said, "Come on good girl! Let's get some food!" Her tail wagged, but she needed proof/ I went inside for a second and retrived her food/ I walked back outside, still with no shoes, and no jacket, and shook the food/ She started to come to me, but I sensed her hesitation/ So with her food, I turned back to the house and started walking, hearing her collar rattling behind me/ I didn't even turn to look at her, as I was sure she assumed she was sneaking behind me, not wanting me to assume that she was giving in/ I got to the stairs and walked up, she followed/ When she got inside the door, I slammed it shut behind her and turned and asked her, "What the hell where you thinking?!?!" She didn't answer, and I questioned how on earth I could try and train her to come to me when I say "come", and not turn and run away/
I know, gotta be nice when they come, but I couldn't/ I was too irritated and obviously don't have the patience it takes to correctly train a dog/ I will work on her more, but until then, she's going on her leash when she goes outside/ No more Ms Nice Bucket/
Saturday, April 07, 2007
A Happy Dog AND A SoTM
Woo. I've been like a regular blogger here of lately. So I have a f'in awesome SoTM, (for those of you that may be new, this is "Song of The Moment"), but first I want to start with my happy, happy doggy.
My doggy is loving our new living situation. Like loving it. She's so happy and always smiling and it makes my heart pitter-patter.
Hopper and her new campanion and housemate, Cillian, just love each other. Every morning when I open the door to my room, she exits under my feet and finds Cillian, always giving her big wet kisses. They usually run around together for a little while, much to my downstairs neighbors dismay, and with tails wagging and tongues panting, choose their respective toys. They lay down by each other, figuring out all the things that are cooler about the others' choosen toy.
My dog hasn't been this happy since before I moved to NY. It confirms that she loves living with another dog, and makes me feel that much better about my desicion to move her and I across the country. She loves the weather, and is getting used to hanging with me on the porch while I do my coffee and internet routine.
So speaking of my coffee and internet routine, this morning I opened the big window on the porch so I can hear my music. This is a first for me, but definitely something I'm going to do more often. I love the big windows in my new place. I love how open my new place is.
Well today I decided to listen to music because I found this amazing song last night, and need to be surrounded by it right now.
I found this song after reading about a fan contest for the Junior Boys. The contest was for fans to make a music video to one of the songs on the new album:
I came across the winner, and to say the least, I was impressed. So impressed actually. This is a fan made video. And the song freaking took my socks off. I encourage you to listen. I usually don't like this kind of music, as I've said before, electronic music is not my usual cup of tea. But this takes electronic music to a very pop level, with the lyrics that burn your brain and heart:
"Cos in the morning
There's a million years to choose from.
You don't care
Just take one.
Leave a place to rest on."
If that doesn't sell you, check out this f'in video. Just awesome. Awesome. Keep in mind, this is fan made. I aspire to be so awesome.
Excuse me for being a dork, but ya'll, (reading Pamie's blog is rubbing off on me, I never say "ya'll"!), I want to see the editing timeline for this one. I'm just stumped!
And now, just for fun. One of my favorite vids of all time: U2, "Windows in the Sky" v.2
My doggy is loving our new living situation. Like loving it. She's so happy and always smiling and it makes my heart pitter-patter.
Hopper and her new campanion and housemate, Cillian, just love each other. Every morning when I open the door to my room, she exits under my feet and finds Cillian, always giving her big wet kisses. They usually run around together for a little while, much to my downstairs neighbors dismay, and with tails wagging and tongues panting, choose their respective toys. They lay down by each other, figuring out all the things that are cooler about the others' choosen toy.
My dog hasn't been this happy since before I moved to NY. It confirms that she loves living with another dog, and makes me feel that much better about my desicion to move her and I across the country. She loves the weather, and is getting used to hanging with me on the porch while I do my coffee and internet routine.
So speaking of my coffee and internet routine, this morning I opened the big window on the porch so I can hear my music. This is a first for me, but definitely something I'm going to do more often. I love the big windows in my new place. I love how open my new place is.
Well today I decided to listen to music because I found this amazing song last night, and need to be surrounded by it right now.
I found this song after reading about a fan contest for the Junior Boys. The contest was for fans to make a music video to one of the songs on the new album:
I came across the winner, and to say the least, I was impressed. So impressed actually. This is a fan made video. And the song freaking took my socks off. I encourage you to listen. I usually don't like this kind of music, as I've said before, electronic music is not my usual cup of tea. But this takes electronic music to a very pop level, with the lyrics that burn your brain and heart:
"Cos in the morning
There's a million years to choose from.
You don't care
Just take one.
Leave a place to rest on."
If that doesn't sell you, check out this f'in video. Just awesome. Awesome. Keep in mind, this is fan made. I aspire to be so awesome.
Excuse me for being a dork, but ya'll, (reading Pamie's blog is rubbing off on me, I never say "ya'll"!), I want to see the editing timeline for this one. I'm just stumped!
And now, just for fun. One of my favorite vids of all time: U2, "Windows in the Sky" v.2
Thursday, April 05, 2007
A Blood Curling Scream Perhaps?
What will you dream of tonight? A sunny day by the beach, or a kiss with a loved one? Maybe a beautiful spring day with imagery provided by a friend. If you're lucky, you may even dream about your Academy/Grammy/Nobel Peace Prize/Booker Prize award winning moment. Me? Well funny you should ask. I'm pretty sure my dreams are going to contain the blood-curling scream that just echoed throughout my neighborhood a few minutes ago. I'm writing this blog to rid myself of them, but as of yet, no such luck.
I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)
Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.
There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.
So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.
I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"
I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.
I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?
I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.
Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.
So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.
Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.
Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.
(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.
My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.
Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.
You guys be safe out there.
I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)
Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.
There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.
So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.
I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"
I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.
I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?
I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.
Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.
So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.
Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.
Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.
(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.
My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.
Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.
You guys be safe out there.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
We Survive The Best We Can
This blog entry is very scary. How do I sum up all the things that have been happening in my life here? It's been so long. On so many occasions something has happened and I knew I had to write a blog entry. My life is measured in blog entry ideas and gathering myspace items, (be it pictures, quotes, or even friends). After taking a good picture, it is declared, "that is your new myspace photo". Twice yesterday, things were said that immediately were assigned as "my new headline". ("Makes depression fun again" being the only memorable of the two.)
An alien, time-travler, or grandparent would be lost in this new world. The way we talk, the things we do. I read a letter from 1934 from my grandfather to my grandmother. It was the most sincere, lovely letter I've ever read. A real love letter. (Postage and all). There has to be something so intimate about receiving a love letter. The other person licked the envelope. For some reason I find that so intimate. Like they are sealing this thing that only they will share. My mother still hasn't read it. She can't bring herself to do it. I told her it was great. My grandfather calls my grandmother an angel and pledges, "we will be together until we die". They were.
My mom and her two brothers had the very difficult task of cleaning out their parents house. They found a box of similar letters. They were all in such a hurry, they all picked one and threw the rest away. One of her brother's got one to my grandmother from another man. I try not to be sad knowing that the rest of those letters are probably incinerated by now.
I wish my grandparents could have seen the Nintendo Wii. They would have thought it was the most amazing thing ever. They were mystified by their Gateway.
The people across the street painted their door yellow. That makes me feel like a character from a book. The yellow door.
I love that complete strangers say I'm a talented writer.
I love Veronica Mars now. I think it's the best tv show on television.
I often feel like a character from one of Pamela Ribon's books. I feel like I could be best friends with Pamela Ribon. That makes me feel like a crazed stalker. I'm not.
I've fallen in love with my Brooklyn neighborhood. As much as I hate New York, sometimes I love it with equal passion. Ever since I've declared I was moving to Los Angeles, this place hasn't seemed all that bad. That always happens, doesn't it? I like waving to people on the street, because we see each other everyday. I like that even though the liquor liscence of the store next door was revoked, I can still buy beer there by going into the back room and picking out my desired brand. They double bag it. I love that on New Year's Eve, they were giving out shots to all their patrons. I love that at one point in the evening, I took a shot with about fifteen strangers. I love that I see most of the same people everyday, and I've become a regular in many places. I love getting the deals that only the regulars get.
I love that when New York let me down the most, strangers were there to help.
It was last week, my dog had been sick. So sick that on Sunday night, I got little to no sleep. I was up every fourty five minutes, almost on the dot, taking my dog outside. She had diarrhea. (Such an ugly word that I'm now immune to.) It didn't go away. I stayed home from work on Monday, and on Monday night, it seemed to be getting better. She was going about four hours without having to go. It was an improvement. I was feeding her nothing but boiled rice, and she seemed her normal self, only a little tired and wouldn't eat or drink much water. By Tuesday, I had to go to work. I left the office early and when I came home, she had used the old towel I had laid out for her. She had also used the floor, in what could only be a last resort. It wasn't her usual diarrhea, This had blood in it. A lot it seemed. In all the research I had done on doggy diarrhea, the one thing I knew was that blood was bad. Very bad. I called my vet who directed me to the Animal Hospital. They told me to bring her in ASAP. They were located on 62nd st and York Ave. I freaked. I didn't own a crate. That was the first thought that went through my mind. I didn't have a car. I needed to somehow get her there and knew that most car companies, if not all, didn't allow uncrated dogs. This is when I cursed New York. I was trapped and this was the thing I had always feared. Desperately needing a car, and not having one. I always thought this would be how I died. A natural disaster and no way to evacuate. Being trapped. One of my biggest beefs with this city. I wasn't going to let my dog die. And from the tone of the woman's voice from the hospital, this was a life or death situation.
I called my friend completely lost in what to do. I asked her to buy me a crate and I would meet her by the store. I think I was hysterical. She told me I didn't need a crate. That I should call Northside, (our local car service), and tell them my situation. I did and through my tears, explained what was happening. The guy responsed without hesitation, "I'll be there in five minutes." I grabbed my dog, (and the thinnest jacket known to man, dumb adrenaline), and jetted from my apartment. Ran into the store next door, and asked if I could bring my dog in to use their ATM. They said yes. I got money and by the time I was out, my savior was outside waiting. He was the nicest man ever. He kept telling me she'd be fine and even offering to put on his emergency lights and go in the emergency lane. I couldn't believe how great he was. I guess I didn't have much faith in strangers here in NY. He certainly didn't have to pick me up, much less be so nice about everything.
I get to the hospital in record time, and thank him profusely, trying to tip him way too much. He declines and only takes half. We can't see the hospital but traffic is so bad, I tell him I can find it. I know it's near this intersection. He starts to ask other strangers where it is, when I spot it. Once I get my dog in, I wait two hours, watching emergency dog after emergency dog go in. I sit there with my dog going to the bathroom on the floor twice, with the receptionist telling me I couldn't take her out because they were going to call my name any moment now. To just let her go on the floor and someone would clean it up. I sat there watching nearly everyone in the place crying for some reason or another. I watched people leave teary eyed empty handed. I watched the nervous glances darting around the room everytime a code anything went across the intercom system.
I rarely wish that I had a boyfriend. There are always moments, but for the most part, I have this single thing down. This evening, sitting in the animal emergency waiting room, by myself, scared and sad, I needed someone. Everyone had someone there for them, so they could use the bathroom, or step outside to make a phone call, or get them something from the snack machine. I hadn't eaten dinner, I hadn't called my mother, I hadn't used the bathroom in hours. And Hopper was getting restless. I needed to get out of the vortex of sad, but couldn't move. I had to stay there and wait for them to call my name. I needed to cry. And did a little, but not like I wanted. I wanted to be in the fetal position and with my mother patting my head saying it would be okay. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. I watched all these pet owners being comforted by their significant other, and was jealous.
We finally got called in, and the doctor was great. He was nice and understanding when I told him, yes, money is an issue for me. He mentioned a possibility of an overnight stay and I tearfully explained that a two thousand dollar overnight stay isn't in the cards. There's literally no possible way for me to pay for that. I broke down at the prospect of me not being able to get my dog the best care possible because of my monetary restraints. The doctor was great and said that we'd deal with it if it was necessary, but he didn't think it was. He took Hopper and sent me back to the waiting room. I felt a little guilty to be so relived to have her off my hands for just a few minutes. I knew she was in better hands than mine at the moment, and I needed to pee. I needed something to drink. I needed to go outside and call my mom and break down. I had been holding it back for far too long.
When they brought her back out to me, she seemed happy, and normal. She was wagging her tail, and smiling, and I was relived, but felt so guiltly for having a seemingly heathly, happy dog. Especially for the couple in front of me, with the dog that was bleeding and had been waiting for far too long.
When the doctor came out to explain to me what the results showed. She had some sort of a parasite, or bacteria, or something small and unwelcome. The results were thankfully positive. She had great results. He put her on some medicine and a diet for the next 48 hours, just boiled chicken and rice. I took a doggy taxi home, (who knew such a thing exsisted), and within 48 hours, she had her first solid poop in what seemed to be a year. Cartwheels.
In some weird, twisted way, this city is livable. Things work out, and people are great in times of crisis. Faith was restored in humanity and in the backwards way things seem to work around here, I survived a crisis the best I could.
An alien, time-travler, or grandparent would be lost in this new world. The way we talk, the things we do. I read a letter from 1934 from my grandfather to my grandmother. It was the most sincere, lovely letter I've ever read. A real love letter. (Postage and all). There has to be something so intimate about receiving a love letter. The other person licked the envelope. For some reason I find that so intimate. Like they are sealing this thing that only they will share. My mother still hasn't read it. She can't bring herself to do it. I told her it was great. My grandfather calls my grandmother an angel and pledges, "we will be together until we die". They were.
My mom and her two brothers had the very difficult task of cleaning out their parents house. They found a box of similar letters. They were all in such a hurry, they all picked one and threw the rest away. One of her brother's got one to my grandmother from another man. I try not to be sad knowing that the rest of those letters are probably incinerated by now.
I wish my grandparents could have seen the Nintendo Wii. They would have thought it was the most amazing thing ever. They were mystified by their Gateway.
The people across the street painted their door yellow. That makes me feel like a character from a book. The yellow door.
I love that complete strangers say I'm a talented writer.
I love Veronica Mars now. I think it's the best tv show on television.
I often feel like a character from one of Pamela Ribon's books. I feel like I could be best friends with Pamela Ribon. That makes me feel like a crazed stalker. I'm not.
I've fallen in love with my Brooklyn neighborhood. As much as I hate New York, sometimes I love it with equal passion. Ever since I've declared I was moving to Los Angeles, this place hasn't seemed all that bad. That always happens, doesn't it? I like waving to people on the street, because we see each other everyday. I like that even though the liquor liscence of the store next door was revoked, I can still buy beer there by going into the back room and picking out my desired brand. They double bag it. I love that on New Year's Eve, they were giving out shots to all their patrons. I love that at one point in the evening, I took a shot with about fifteen strangers. I love that I see most of the same people everyday, and I've become a regular in many places. I love getting the deals that only the regulars get.
I love that when New York let me down the most, strangers were there to help.
It was last week, my dog had been sick. So sick that on Sunday night, I got little to no sleep. I was up every fourty five minutes, almost on the dot, taking my dog outside. She had diarrhea. (Such an ugly word that I'm now immune to.) It didn't go away. I stayed home from work on Monday, and on Monday night, it seemed to be getting better. She was going about four hours without having to go. It was an improvement. I was feeding her nothing but boiled rice, and she seemed her normal self, only a little tired and wouldn't eat or drink much water. By Tuesday, I had to go to work. I left the office early and when I came home, she had used the old towel I had laid out for her. She had also used the floor, in what could only be a last resort. It wasn't her usual diarrhea, This had blood in it. A lot it seemed. In all the research I had done on doggy diarrhea, the one thing I knew was that blood was bad. Very bad. I called my vet who directed me to the Animal Hospital. They told me to bring her in ASAP. They were located on 62nd st and York Ave. I freaked. I didn't own a crate. That was the first thought that went through my mind. I didn't have a car. I needed to somehow get her there and knew that most car companies, if not all, didn't allow uncrated dogs. This is when I cursed New York. I was trapped and this was the thing I had always feared. Desperately needing a car, and not having one. I always thought this would be how I died. A natural disaster and no way to evacuate. Being trapped. One of my biggest beefs with this city. I wasn't going to let my dog die. And from the tone of the woman's voice from the hospital, this was a life or death situation.
I called my friend completely lost in what to do. I asked her to buy me a crate and I would meet her by the store. I think I was hysterical. She told me I didn't need a crate. That I should call Northside, (our local car service), and tell them my situation. I did and through my tears, explained what was happening. The guy responsed without hesitation, "I'll be there in five minutes." I grabbed my dog, (and the thinnest jacket known to man, dumb adrenaline), and jetted from my apartment. Ran into the store next door, and asked if I could bring my dog in to use their ATM. They said yes. I got money and by the time I was out, my savior was outside waiting. He was the nicest man ever. He kept telling me she'd be fine and even offering to put on his emergency lights and go in the emergency lane. I couldn't believe how great he was. I guess I didn't have much faith in strangers here in NY. He certainly didn't have to pick me up, much less be so nice about everything.
I get to the hospital in record time, and thank him profusely, trying to tip him way too much. He declines and only takes half. We can't see the hospital but traffic is so bad, I tell him I can find it. I know it's near this intersection. He starts to ask other strangers where it is, when I spot it. Once I get my dog in, I wait two hours, watching emergency dog after emergency dog go in. I sit there with my dog going to the bathroom on the floor twice, with the receptionist telling me I couldn't take her out because they were going to call my name any moment now. To just let her go on the floor and someone would clean it up. I sat there watching nearly everyone in the place crying for some reason or another. I watched people leave teary eyed empty handed. I watched the nervous glances darting around the room everytime a code anything went across the intercom system.
I rarely wish that I had a boyfriend. There are always moments, but for the most part, I have this single thing down. This evening, sitting in the animal emergency waiting room, by myself, scared and sad, I needed someone. Everyone had someone there for them, so they could use the bathroom, or step outside to make a phone call, or get them something from the snack machine. I hadn't eaten dinner, I hadn't called my mother, I hadn't used the bathroom in hours. And Hopper was getting restless. I needed to get out of the vortex of sad, but couldn't move. I had to stay there and wait for them to call my name. I needed to cry. And did a little, but not like I wanted. I wanted to be in the fetal position and with my mother patting my head saying it would be okay. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. I watched all these pet owners being comforted by their significant other, and was jealous.
We finally got called in, and the doctor was great. He was nice and understanding when I told him, yes, money is an issue for me. He mentioned a possibility of an overnight stay and I tearfully explained that a two thousand dollar overnight stay isn't in the cards. There's literally no possible way for me to pay for that. I broke down at the prospect of me not being able to get my dog the best care possible because of my monetary restraints. The doctor was great and said that we'd deal with it if it was necessary, but he didn't think it was. He took Hopper and sent me back to the waiting room. I felt a little guilty to be so relived to have her off my hands for just a few minutes. I knew she was in better hands than mine at the moment, and I needed to pee. I needed something to drink. I needed to go outside and call my mom and break down. I had been holding it back for far too long.
When they brought her back out to me, she seemed happy, and normal. She was wagging her tail, and smiling, and I was relived, but felt so guiltly for having a seemingly heathly, happy dog. Especially for the couple in front of me, with the dog that was bleeding and had been waiting for far too long.
When the doctor came out to explain to me what the results showed. She had some sort of a parasite, or bacteria, or something small and unwelcome. The results were thankfully positive. She had great results. He put her on some medicine and a diet for the next 48 hours, just boiled chicken and rice. I took a doggy taxi home, (who knew such a thing exsisted), and within 48 hours, she had her first solid poop in what seemed to be a year. Cartwheels.
In some weird, twisted way, this city is livable. Things work out, and people are great in times of crisis. Faith was restored in humanity and in the backwards way things seem to work around here, I survived a crisis the best I could.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Hopper
Here's the thing people, I have a dog. Meet Hopper. Hopper is about to turn 3 years old in nine days, and that picture right there, was taken a year ago. What I'm holding in front of the camera there, that's her birthday sandwich. At a closer inspection, it looks a little like this photo below. It's peanut butter with broken pieces of dog biscut smashed throughout. She gets it once a year on her birthday. (I'm pretty strict with all table food the rest of the year. This one day is the exception.)
Because if there's one thing Hopper likes, it's peanut butter. God forbid she ever get an entire jar, or that jar's fate would be, well, not pretty. Licked clean shards of plastic would be all that remains when Hopper is done with it.
I got Hopper when I was in college. I was sure that I was responsible enough: I had a yard, the spare time, and emotionally, was looking for some campanionship. (Whether I was actually ready to get a dog is still up for debate.) Hopper's name comes from artist Edward Hopper. Not Dennis Hopper, as some so wittingly like to suggest. Edward Hopper is by all counts, my favorite artist. In every single one of his paintings, he conveys this humanly loneliness, that we all possess, at or against our own will. For this reason, the mystery of Hopper's name can begin to become less of a mystery.
Here's the other thing, Hopper has a bad past. I got her when she was six months old, and between her and her sister, she seemed to be the more calm one. A little shy when I first met her, but allowed me to rub her stomach, which is always a good sign when adopting a dog. I got her in the car when I started to notice that something was a little off. She was in the backseat, trying to get in the front seat with us. She peed in the backseat and any loud noise made her cower. When we stopped halfway home to let her use the bathroom, she nearly escaped her leash when people tried to come up to her. She was scared. And it seemed normal enough I guess, at the time thinking she was just adjusting. But that day, things went from bad to worse. She wouldn't let anyone, besides me and my friend who had picked her up, near her. She would cower under my bed, no matter how many treats I laid right outside of her comfort zone.
Yes, something was very off with this pup. She had been abused. I took her to the vet and they confirmed my fear. At the lift of a hand, she would wince thinking she was going to get hit. She trusted no one but me and my roommates. It was a sad time. I dealt with it the best I could, taking her to socialization classes and trying to integrate her with other dogs. Luckily, she had no problem getting along with other dogs, it was just the people that she couldn't handle. But she was a great dog, pretty well-behaved, sweet, not overly active. And I fell in love with her.
Today, after 2 and a half years of working with her, she has improved greatly, but is still far from "normal". She is overly afraid of strangers, sometimes so desperate to get away, knocking down any and everything in her path, including me. Loud noises or startling motions frighten her. She has gotten better, as it takes her a lot less time to warm up to people now. But her past can never completely be reversed. And it's hard. It's stressful, and sometimes it's so damn frustrating that I can't see straight. I'm 23, and this dog is hard to take care of. It's hard always wondering if I'm doing the right thing or if I'm being overly-compassionate or cold hearted. When she's scared, sometimes I just want to yell, "What's your damn problem!" Or pull her to the person in question and be like, "They are nice! People are nice!!!" Of course I don't, especially the former, it's not her fault. It's the bastards that abused her. It's their fault. And there's a high chance I made some mistakes when I first got her. Too much coddling, being the worst offense, or so I'm told. She went from an abusive atmosphere directly to me, who would cater to her every need and desire. No wonder she thinks everyone else sucks.
But I love her dearly and know that I can't give up on her. It's damn hard. It is. I have to sacrific a lot for her, but I made this commitment long ago, and have no intention of going back on a promise I made to her when I first got her. "Till death do we part, baby."
I would like to believe that she doesn't hold me back, but alas, sometimes it's hard not to concede to that thinking. Moving new places is awfully difficult. And here's the last thing. I need to move to a new place. I'm as far as I believe I can go here, career wise. Or as far as I'd like to go. My time in NYC is up. I've recently realized that I must move to LA. My first thought, when I realized this was, she's not going to be able to come. It was subconscious at first. I take you back to my post from last week, "10 Hours Separates The Freshly Cleaned and Coffee Stained", where I was trying to decide what to do in March when my lease is up. Admittedly, LA was in last place. I didn't admit it then, but I will now, It's because of Hopper. I was scared she wouldn't be able to come. This realization and vocalization of this realization made me have a breakdown a few nights ago. I couldn't give up on her now.
Night time is always the time where I think less rationally. By morning light, I had a plan.
In March when my lease is up, I will return home for a short period to regroup. Hopper will be boarded for a couple of weeks, and I'm going to fly out to LA. With the help of friends already living there, I will start to try and find a place to live, a job, a life. That's right. I'm going to move to LA. After finding some sort of semblance of a place to live, I will then make the desicion if I am going to be able to have her. I'm thinking that I will. I've discussed this with many people, one of which is currently in LA with her dog, living happily. I know I can do it. If I can do it here, I can do it anywhere. That's how the saying goes right? I will return home, collecting my belongings, purchasing a car, (no easy task, but a necessity), retrieve my pup, and head cross-country. One step at a time. If, and I am going to try and make this not so, but if I discover that I would not be able to have her there, I will deal with it then. But I'm fighting for her. And for what I need in my life. It's not fair to either of us to hold each other back. I don't want to feel like by living there, her quality of life will be compromised. And same for me. So Hopper and I will have another chapter in our lives together. She can't get rid of me that easily!
And once again, I'm at peace.
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