Chupa Chups

yes i'm insulted

So it’s all or nothing, huh? I can’t have an in between; some intermediate speed? Why? Why does it have to be super speed? Why can’t I just take my time?

SO the week started out hectic. I was trying to save a life. I did my best. I went to the shelter twice this week. I met the dog. The dog was exactly what the description said plus a few extras, i.e., severe food aggression, a cold, and an ear infection. I came to the shelter with an open mind. I went to assess the situation. Weighing the pros and cons, as well as my own novice experience, I decided to forego it. It was in the dog’s best interest to have a pack leader that knew what it was doing and I wasn’t it. I could deal with “regular” dogs but not aggressive dogs. It was a dominant breed and because it had severe fear issues I felt I could rehabilitate it. Unfortunately, I was mistaken. The dog showed signs of improving but it was hard for me to find it a home. SO I told the rescue group I couldn’t proceed. It hurt to make this decision but from the talk I had with the person whose dealt most with the dog, it seems the dog has been taken of the euthanasia list more than once. It was mostly based on that decision. People were interested or else the dog would’ve been dead. I felt like a Peta protestor for a few days. I decided to keep the focus on myself (not to be selfish but to be realistic). I’m going on vacation. Personally, I think it’s wrong to make a commitment and bail at the first chance you get. I felt badly “saving” the dog only to dump it off on my friends while I was away. Well, apparently looking at the situation realistically wasn’t that nice. I haven’t heard from the rescue group. Clearly, they were only looking to save a life, not to see if it was a good fit. They kept pushing this dog on me even knowing that I’ve never truly had a dog for more than a week. The pulled out all the stops and I saw several red flags that at first I ignored. Why can’t I tell the shelter the rescue group is covering the costs? Why did you choose to ignore the fact that the dog has “severe food aggression”? When we first spoke you informed me that the dog was not a fearful biter. You lied. The shelter said it did. You tell me the shelter is exaggerating. I’m stuck in the middle. I choose to do what was best for me and what I thought was best for the dog. The shelter is one opposite and you are the other. I tried. I must inform you that I felt insulted that you didn’t even acknowledge my email. I was giving it a good go and by not responding with at least an “OK” it makes it seem a bit as an insult. I made a decision that you didn’t like and you quickly turned on me. It’s like when customers go into a store and as soon as the sales associate knows you are not interested they become a Jekyll/Hyde person. No need to be rude. What would Emily Post say to your lack of manners? In any case, I write to let out the insult I am feeling.

hamilton's rule in application

I’m caught in a whirlwind, tornado, and tsunami. I’m trying to be a decent human being. I’m trying to save the world. Meanwhile, I’m losing control. I have taken the focus off myself to my own detriment. It’s led to a detrimental state of mind and spirit. In efforts to help another being, I’m lessening my own chances of a healthy state of mind. Providing support to another does require that less be provided for you but this seems like an extreme case. Helping you shouldn’t be a dangerous thing to me. If the costs outweigh the benefits, it’s detrimental and should be avoided. The altruistic behavior shouldn’t cost more than the benefit. Is this Hamilton’s rule in action? Perhaps. I don’t know anymore. I’m trying to regain footing. It’s hard. Its gut wrenching and making me feel guilty. You need a calm and assertive individual to help you out. Two nails can’t help each other. One anxiety prone individual isn’t much help to another anxiety prone individual. What can I do? I don’t know what to do? I’m being torn from limb-to-limb. Some say you may tear me limb-to-limb. I have to look out for my own health. I’m trying to save your health but then who’s looking out for mine. You have people looking out for you. I have me. If I don’t help me, I’m stuck. You have your cute puppy dog eyes. I have just me. I’m sorry. I have just me. I’m trying to look out for you as well. I took the extreme opinions out of the equation. I focused on what I can provide for you. I’m inexperienced. Yes, experience comes with delving into things but I’m still inexperienced. You need help; experienced help. I wish I could help but I can’t. I have a life. This is tough. I have to move forward. I have this little girl inside of me to look after. She has plans. She only has me to take care of her. It’s me and my inner me. You have you and other people. I’m sorry.

not so saintly after all

Please allow me to inform you that I am not Mother Theresa. I’m sure she was a nice lady but sadly I am not her. I do my part, e.g., recycling, volunteering, etc. However, I can’t commit to fully saving the world. It would be a major drain. I’m only but one person and I know I can’t do it all by myself or afford it. Ghandhi and Dr. King were troopers. I can’t begin to fill their shoes. I want to save one and I want to save all, but I have to be realistic and know that I can’t save them all. One lives today but ten die tomorrow. I don’t want the weight of those ten on my shoulders. I can do my part as best as I can. I can’t promise you anything and I most certainly can’t promise you perfection. I’m only one person. I, too, need help. Although I’m all for saving the environment and all its inhabitants, I simply can’t protect them all forever. Things have a natural course; I have a natural flow. Please accept my apologies. I am only able to do so much. I’m not Mother Theresa. I’m not Al Gore. I’m not Bill Gates. I may give to the homeless. I may volunteer at animal and human shelters. I may volunteer at the parks. However, I’m only me. I’m only one person. I feel guilty. I feel guilty for not being able to do more. I know my limitations. Sadly, I can’t save the world. One person is all it takes. One person saves and one person is saved. Allow me to give as best as I can, but please don’t push me to do more than I can. I appreciate your efforts, as I hope you’ll appreciate mine. Please don’t judge me, chastise me. I’ve done more than the average Jane. Please forgive me but Mother Theresa is dead and her shoes are something I don’t wish to fill.

sunny sunday

With fogged up eyes, I’m feeling sad, alone, and in pain. My eyes are foggy because I need to toss out these old contacts. I’m feeling sad because of financial issues. I’m feeling alone because I’m currently alone in my living room. Sad, alone, and in pain because I’m feeling overwhelmed in this living room; a room cluttered with tons of paper, bills, clean laundry, and just one hot mess. Although I tried taking care of myself this morning (because last night I had a Crumbs cupcake) by going for a long run, I’m now facing a piercing foot pain. I feel like bolting. Opening the door, boarding an airplane, and never really looking back because that’s how I decide to deal with things. It’s one of the only things that soothe me. All these ailments are curable, fixable. Step one: toss out those old and worn contacts. Step two: start picking up the mess that’s on the floor. Step three: fold the laundry and put it away. Please continue. Feeling sorry for myself doesn’t help. It only keeps me in this dark hole. There’s a light at the end of every tunnel and hole and I need to look for mine. As Ms. Suze Orman says, I need to face it to erase it. I need to get real with myself. If I keep living in denial, nothing will change. I need to face my reality and steer into the direction I’d like to move in. I need to move. Need to move as fast as I can. I’m not saying at super speed but at a more accelerated speed than I’m moving now, which is snail’s pace. It’s taken me weeks to mail out a form that took me two minutes to fill out. So I write. I write to clear my head. I write to figure and let things out. I need to exhale. I can’t continue to hold my toxic breathe and hope everything fixes itself. I need to breathe out. The toxins are killing my organs. I need my heart. I need my lungs. I need everything inside of me. All my organs have a function and by holding this toxicity, I’m only harming myself. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Now, exhale. Let it out. Let the pain out. Let the sadness out. Let the loneliness out. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Let the cool and calm air in. Let the warmth fill your hearth. Let the warmth fill your lungs. Let the warmth fill your stomach. Mmmm….it feels good. It feels good to breathe and exhale.

mousing around

Click…click….click….click..clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety, clickety-click….what’s this I see? It’s the green-eyed jealous cyber stalker monster that lives inside of me. I started off innocently by just glancing through the Facebook wall. Soon the Facebook wall turned into noticing who you befriended. Eventually I started looking through every photo you posted and inspected all of them. In the beginning you would check your Facebook on my computer and I would simply log you off. I didn’t want to know and I felt you deserved your privacy. To give it is to receive it, right? Eventually my brown eyes started changing color. First they became hazel and eventually aquamarine green. I fear they will turn toxic chemical green soon. I can’t help it but I can. Cyber stalking is just so simple and anonymous. Oh why is the green-eyed monster in me awakened? I was a normal girl at age 17. At age 19, I was free as a bird. The boyfriend at that time had his issues and eventually his jealous issues became my issue. They slowly seeped into me. The age 20 boyfriend was an uphill battle. It was tough constantly coming up with defensive strategies. Age 21-26, was a string of unfortunate events. Those were unavailable and barely dateable. Did I mention those were also not completely yours? They were great multi-taskers that much I can give them. Now at 26 ½, I am the green-eyed monster. The age 17 carefree bird enthusiast became the 26 ½ who is sifting through phone messages, Facebook inboxs and walls. Shameful can’t begin to cover it. I’ve become the jaded lover. Ironically, this is one of the healthiest relationships I’ve been in and yet I’m the one looking for the metaphorical shoe. Clickety-click, clickety-click, clickety-clack…splat…splatter…splattering.

proclamation

Hear ye, hear ye! I doth proclaim myself a full-fledged (or as close as I can be) adult. I’ve schooled. I’ve worked. I’ve lived. I’ve toiled. I am a fully-fledged adult. I’ve taken on responsibility. I’ve buckled down when the times required me to. I’ve been the epitome of Emily Post’s great-great-grandchild. Yes, I am a full-fledged adult. I may now proceed onto bigger and better things. I am an adult who is comfortable in their own Chupa Chups skin. I’m as honest as can be. I feel really guilty lying to people, but I’m not one to shy away from a little white lie; you know, like the few times a homeless person comes up to you and asks you for change and you say you don’t have any. I mean don’t get me wrong. I give up my change if I have it. However, if I’m not in the best financial situations, I’m most certainly not going to give up my laundry money quarter to a stranger who’s probably making good on loose change. If I can’t afford to give coins, I do my best to offer whatever food I may have. (Haven’t you noticed that although they say they want something to eat, they’d rather get the cash instead?) So, yes, I am a fully-fledged adult. I practice good hygiene. In the winter, I shower, floss, brush, and rinse at least twice a day; morning and night. When summer time arrives, it’s at least three times. I commit to nourishing my body with healthy foods. I’ve just taught myself to eat celery. I’m not 100% there but I’m a good 40% there. I’ve taught myself to eat spinach, broccoli, bean curd, tofu, etc. Yes, I am a fully-fledged adult. Sadly, as this fully-fledged adult, my metabolism isn’t the best. It’s increasingly slowing down. It’s harder for me to manage my weight. Although I’ve not gained much weight, I’ve also not been able to lose any; mostly because I forget the most important part of the component of weight loss- actually get up off the couch. Sigh. SO to the world: I doth proclaim my adultness. I am one of you. I’ve joined your ranks. I’m a doer and not just a follower. World, that is all. Please continue with your day. Goodbye.

one, two, three, four...one two, three four

Did you know that my feelings are valid? Did you know that everyone’s feelings are valid? So, why do you call me a “drama queen” when I tell you I’m not feeling well? Do I do the same to you? No, absolutely not. I empathize. I try to make you feel better. I offer my services to you. I assure you that you can count on me for whatever you need in your time of need. SO, why do you criticize me for validating my own feelings? I’m tired of treating my feelings as second-class citizens in comparison to yours. My feelings are valid. They tell me what’s going on with me. I need to not focus on your ailments and focus on mine. I’m not criticizing you for voicing your feelings and ailments. In fact, I encourage you to speak your truth. Therefore, I request you treat my feelings and opinions with the same courtesy as I treat yours. I will no longer be passive. My feelings will no longer ride at the back of the bus so that yours can take up five seats up front. My feelings and I matter. They matter to me. If they don’t matter to you, I guess we have a problem. I guess you’re not the individual I thought you always were. I guess it’s about time I packed up and went about my way. My feelings are valid and will no longer look to you for validation. They are valid on their own. I will voice my feelings and opinions whenever I see fit. I will no longer take a backseat to you. Here me now. I am Rosa Parks and I will no longer ride at the back of the bus. My feelings and feet are as trampled as yours. However, I will not continue their demise to make room for yours to heal. My feelings need to heal as well. You may not like it but they’re real. They are real to me and they exist loud and proud!

coma character

Waaaaaaa Waaaaaa. I’m stuffed to the gills. I feel like a fisherman is going to stick his hook in my gut at any time. I’m stuffed. Stuffed to the gills. I had Italian for lunch. Penne vodka with fresh mozzarella. Simple. Clean. Yummy. Today it is extra heavy. I feel as if someone stuffed a water balloon down my throat. Honestly, I feel like those video game cartoon characters when they get killed off and just sit with birds and weird symbols above their heads. You know what I’m talking about. The characters that once they die their eyes become Xs and they sit on the floor twirling in circles. I feel like that cartoon character right now. Right now I’m stuffed to the gills. Ouch. Was that a fisherman sticking its hook in me?!

definitions

/ɪˈnɪʃiətɪv, ɪˈnɪʃə-/ Show Spelled[ih-nish-ee-uh-tiv, ih-nish-uh-] Show IPA

–noun
1.an introductory act or step; leading action: to take the initiative in making friends.
2.readiness and ability in initiating action; enterprise: to lack initiative.
3.one's personal, responsible decision: to act on one's own initiative.
4.Government.
a.a procedure by which a specified number of voters may propose a statute, constitutional amendment, or ordinance, and compel a popular vote on its adoption. Compare referendum (def. 1).
b.the general right or ability to present a new bill or measure, as in a legislature.

–adjective
5.of or pertaining to initiation; serving to initiate: Initi-ative steps were taken to stop manufacture of the drug.
Use initiative in a Sentence
See images of initiative
Search initiative on the Web

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Origin:
1785–95; initiate + -ive

—Related forms
in·i·ti·a·tive·ly, adverb
self-in·i·ti·a·tive, noun
su·per·in·i·ti·a·tive, noun
un·in·i·ti·a·tive, adjective

—Synonyms
2. leadership, forcefulness, dynamism.

in·i·tia·tive (ĭ-nĭsh'ə-tĭv)
n.
The power or ability to begin or to follow through energetically with a plan or task; enterprise and determination.

A beginning or introductory step; an opening move: took the initiative in trying to solve the problem.

The power or right to introduce a new legislative measure.

The right and procedure by which citizens can propose a law by petition and ensure its submission to the electorate.

adj.
Of or relating to initiation.

Used to initiate; initiatory.

in·i'tia·tive·ly adv.

sorry but how do you spell that again?

Performance Initiative. It seems I lack this key trait…at work, school, and in life. Whilst checking old work evaluations, I keep coming upon this pattern that I apparently have and refuse to address. It seems I address it sometimes but quickly see a little shiny thing and get more intrigued with it than my original goal. Performance Initiative. What is it really? I am very familiar with the two words by themselves but together what do they really mean for and about me? It is something that needs improving in me and that’s for certain. As any good analytical person, I quickly jumped on the World Wide Web to decipher this pattern of mine. I started with WebMD and nothing substantial popped up. I proceeded with dividing the words and finding a good medium for the two. I found nothing. Absolutely nothing to clue me in as to the real problem, the one that lies within. The only answer I could come up with is WHY. Why do I constantly do this? Why do I do it to myself? Do I feel proud of this? Do I even know what it looks like when it manifests? I can honestly tell you I don’t. I have an inkling of what it looks like but no concrete proof of it. It could be my infamous B average throughout school. Well, you know, it could be the academic career where I was more than complacent to be a B student. Trying was too hard and when I neared failing marks, I quickly started my engines on full blast. Honestly, I don’t know what showing good performance initiative is. I volunteer outside of work; does that count? I allow people existing the building to go first through the doors. I wait at the crosswalk until the light turns green. Performance Initiative. Does it mean that I’m not a big enough brown-noser? Or that I don’t put much effort into things? Perhaps it means all of the above? I didn’t grow up having to show initiative. I was forced by my mother to do things; you could even say guilted or manipulated into it. I believe she made the environment difficult for me to even develop an initiative trait. Feeling guilty when I didn’t do things or punished when I didn’t do things. How’s that for development? BUT I can’t keep blaming her for everything that went wrong in my life. I have to take responsibility of my own actions. I think I’m more than old enough to know how the world works and know what I need to do. Principals above personalities is what I hear. You are there to do a job. You do it to the best of your abilities. You make sure you do it well and don’t protest. Performance Initiative. It’s something I’m going to work on. It is something I think I’ve always been aware of and refused to acknowledge. Do you want to move up in the world Chupa Chups? If so, I suggest your increase your performance initiative.

remember those?

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (or maybe not), people used to have lunch breaks. During these lunch breaks, people would eat and relax. They would step outside of the office and look at the clear blue sky, sun, and clouds. They would feel the air on their cheeks and feel alive and awake again. Once their hour lunch breaks were up, they would return to work refreshed and ready to trek on with the rest of their day. The lunch hour marked the middle of their day. It meant that the morning was over and the countdown until 5 or 5:30 commenced. Alas, this was a long, long time ago and in a land far, far away (or maybe not). Lunch breaks were awesome for me. I would step outside and meet friends. Enjoy what the day had to offer; whether it was rain, snow, sunshine, or just dark skies. I enjoyed them once. They were much needed breaks. Now they seem like a distant memory. My work day revolves around me sitting on this not-so-comfortable and by no means ergonomic chair and desk. I stare at a computer screen for eight hours. Exactly eight hours. I can’t last a minute longer or else I face the wrath of upper management. The only reliefs I have are bathroom and water breaks. Oh how I treasure these breaks so, so much. They are the highlight of my day now. I try to do either or both of these activities at least once an hour. It helps, you know. It helps my eyes. It helps my rear end. It helps my legs. It feeds my soul. It tells me that I’m not really chained to my wooden desk with my paper made name plate. Yes, I made a paper name plate. It’s painted in beautiful markers. I even drew a smiley face on it. It’s the only thing smiling these days at this desk. Oh how in that land far, far away I enjoyed paid lunch breaks. I enjoyed them SO much.

dearest lord baby jesus....

Overall, I’m “happier” these days. Today I’m not so “happy,” I’m more peeved than anything. However, the saddened/angry state of today may be the result of all this angry garage and rock music I’m listening to. OR it could be this new system of rules I have to adhere to at work. I don’t mind doing the new requirements, but I do mind when the programs I need to now use don’t work, especially when I may get less pay if they don’t work. I’m cool with the new rules but please have a program and computers that work. By the time my computer loads and the program finally decides to start up, I’m already 10-20 minutes into my day. When I sign into the program it notes me as that time, not the 10-20 minutes I was already here. Did I mention if I don’t meet the proper requirements every two weeks I won’t get paid the same amount? You know what; I’m not going to talk about this issue anymore. It’s too frustrating. What I would like to talk about is what I finally mustered the courage to do today. I emailed. I emailed my former tutor to inquire about my master’s standing. I was told in April 2009 that I would need to wait an additional 7 months to see what the examiner’s board would decide on my case. Unfortunately, I’ve been waiting on this degree since 2008. I’m being patient though. I want it. I deserve it and I most certainly am paying for it. If things don’t work out, I won’t be too disappointed, I hope. I have other plans in the works. I was too scared to ask back in December and January about the results. This morning I decided to email my tutor tomorrow but since I had some free time today, I felt like no time like the present. SO I’m hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. It’s what I grew up doing and it is a motto/action that has helped me a lot.

Open letter to Lord Baby Jesus:

Dear Lord Baby Jesus:

How are you? Are you and your dad doing OK? Are you all OK with this “financial crisis”? I hope you all are.

Towards the end of my masters program in 2008, I found out some devastating news. I had failed a class and my tutor died. I was definitely taken aback by both. The news of my failing came first. I was distraught. It was the first time in my life I had truly failed a class. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was hurt, mortified, and confused. I had failed a class. While confiding in really good friends, who I definitely and truly thank you for, I marched on. I went to my tutor’s office to see what we could do about the situation. He said he didn’t know what we had to do yet. I was really proud of myself for the way I handled the situation. The news could’ve been truly detrimental to me, especially since I prided myself on my school smarts, but it wasn’t. I decided to go along with whatever I needed to do. Give it my all and fight for my degree. I was allowed to resubmit the work without having to take the course. However, I wasn’t allowed to hand in the work until the course was giving, which wasn’t until spring 2009. Although I was annoyed at having to wait so long, I patiently waited. When the time came, I stayed up nights doing the work. I had succeeded with the essay this time but narrowly failed the exam again. I was disappointed with my exam results but happy about the essay. My new tutor/dissertation advisor said I’d have to wait until the examiners met in November. SO I waited seven more months. Sometimes I waited patiently and sometimes impatiently. Somewhere in the middle I decided to “let go and let god.” I couldn’t control things anymore. It was out of my hands. I worked with the department to work on a solution. I upheld my part of the bargain and now it was completely out of my control. I have no influence over the examiners; heck, I don’t even know who they are. I had to wait. I had to let go of the out of the examiners’ meeting. For a few months I forgot about the whole ordeal. That is, until November. The feelings of insecurity and failure crept up again. I knew it was approaching meeting time. For the whole month of November I was stressed and petrified. I was dealing with a lot that month- moving house and financial recovery. When December came, I checked my email and mailbox religiously. When January approached, I figured it was just the post taking forever and that I’d hear something in mid January. January came and went and nothing. Now in the middle of February, I’m questioning things. Well, to be honest, I was just moving forward. I decided to pursue my PhD, with or without my masters degree. At this point, I’m just tired of living in fear. I want to move forward and finally realize my one and true dream/goal. I hope the news regarding the meeting was favorable, but I must forage forward. It is the Lord’s will, not my own. In the end, I don’t need a masters to reach my dream. I hope things are favorable, but if things aren’t, I understand. I will not hold any grudges, or at least try not to. I will move forward. Well, Lord Baby Jesus, by now you must be wondering what I’m going on about and what the purpose of this letter is. The purpose of this letter is to tell you that I’ll be OK. I’ll be OK with whatever decision you and your dad make. I’ll be hurt if things don’t work out for the best but I’ll be strong enough to continue. I wanted to tell you that I’m OK. I’m holding up better these days. I wanted to tell you that I am grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given. Although I haven’t always appreciated them, I’m still grateful for them. I’m grateful for my life and where I am. I’m grateful for how far I’ve gotten. I’m grateful for still being alive, even though sometimes I’m not a fan of it. I’m grateful for having a roof over my head, a job, food in the fridge, a supportive partner, and a good therapist. For today, I am OK. Thank you. Thank you for being my rock and always watching over me. Lord Baby Jesus, I don’t appreciate all the death I’ve had to endure these past two years but I’m starting to be OK with it. I’m using them as signs to live my life. Too many good lives have been taken prematurely. My tutor was one of them. He deserved the world. He was smart and loved by all. He was definitely a promising superstar in the anthropology world. He deserved longer time. He could’ve done so many great things. I understand that I can’t always know why people die but I do think it’s unfair for such a beautiful soul to pass. I accept your decision. I may not be happy with it but I accept it. I know he’s in a much better place. I’m grateful for having met him. He was and still is an inspiration to me. Thank you for blessing me with his presence. In conclusion, I would like to finally express one last thank you. Thank you. I’ll be OK.

Sincerely,

Chupa Chups

oh lover boy Rothy-poo

Hello Roth! Would you like to be my new boyfriend? I think you do. New boyfriend, I think we are going to be together for a very long time. Rothy-poo I commit to invest in you, and us, for the next forty or so years. I hope that you will grow for and with me. I hope that you bring nothing but abundance and security to my life. Rothy-poo, I think I love you. Rothiscle I’m a bit confused about you. Where do we begin our new adventure? You know I’m starting from the bare, bare minimum, i.e., fifty dollars is what I’m looking to start off with. Would you like that as a setup? Would you deny me and our love? Rothy-poo, don’t reject me for not being up to your standards. I can grow. We can grow together! Baby, baby, baby...give us a chance. Give this love an amazing chance…perhaps 10-15% return. Rothy, Rothy, Rothy….I love you!

watcha got cookin' 2010!

Hey 2010!

How do you do? I’m doing better. Thanks for asking. 2010 you’ve been OK to me. I’ve had my bipolar episodes but they don’t seem too bad. 2010, what do you have in store for me? Will my funk disappear? Will I finally come to terms with myself? 2010, I wanted a dog so very much for 2009. Sadly, I never got one. Now that you are here, I believe the dog will come to me. People keep mentioning how it’s a major responsibility to have a dog. You’d think I was asking people if I could have a baby. It annoys me in a way. I understand they come from a good place but whenever I hear people be negative, I just can’t help wonder how much of it is their own insecurities about the issue. Let’s look at the facts: I’ve never been a dog owner, not by choice, of course. I’ve always loved dogs. Throughout the years I’ve had plenty of contacts with dogs. I’ve walked friends’ dogs. I doggy-sat two French bull dogs for an entire weekend. Since they were young pups, they pretty much tore up the place. I understand that having a puppy for 2-3 days is way different than having it for 10 years. I know vet bills can get pretty out of hand. But people….I’ve always loved dogs. The only reason I’ve never owned one was because a) my brother had asthma growing up and was petrified of dogs b) almost every placed I’ve lived in had a no pet policy. I understand that owning a pet means limited apartments available but limited does not mean NO apartments available. Yes some apartments may require a deposit and others won’t accept a certain size but I can handle it. Listen people, I’ve entered this stage in my life where nothing matters. I’m bored and tired of it all. I really see no point to living any further. I’m not saying that a dog will cure this but at least I’ll have something to do. As it stands, I live to work and work to live. My life consists of waking up, trying to get to work on time, and just wasting my life in front of TV for about an hour or three until I have to go to work again. Weekends are pretty uneventful at this point. As I said, I’m bored and tired. Maybe it’s not fair to bring a dog to this environment but perhaps it’ll give me something to think about. I don’t know. At times I see this “my wanting a dog” parallel to people wanting children to love. BUT I’ve been trying to get a dog and so far it’s been incredibly unsuccessful. It’s a simple task but somehow it’s becoming a big thing. I’ve tried several times to foster a dog but those shelters don’t really reply to me. You’d think with so many animals being euthanized they’d want to save at least one. Sometimes I get seriously discouraged. I really don’t get it. How can this take me forever to do? Why is it so difficult? Well, in two to three months I’m going to see where my financial situation is. If I’ve been able to settle myself and save enough for a dog then I’ll proceed. If not, perhaps it’s time I throw in the white towel.

….

I’ve decided to get more serious about my future; more specifically, my financial future. It’s about time, don’t you think? I want to buy an apartment, preferably a condo. I’m not a major fan of co-ops and having people vote you in. I’m thinking of purchasing one really, really dirt cheap. I want to fix it up that way I’m envisioning it in my head. First, I want to start with the bathroom. I want the bathroom, and possibly the whole apartment, to have a music system installed in the walls. Since I want music blaring, I’ll probably need to insulate the apartment properly to make it soundproof. SO imagine showering with music coming out of the walls. The sound system would have to be of really good quality. I don’t want it to sound all static-y and stuff. I’m thinking something along the lines of department stores. You know how shop around and the sound quality is awesome but there are no big bulky basses/amps (whatever they are called)…just like that; or when you are in the elevator that the sound is so crisp. You get the gist. Once the sound is properly installed, I want heated floors. Who wants to step out of the shower on cold tiles? Not me. Did I mention my steam room/sauna option in the shower component? The shower component that would be able to fit at least two full desks side-by-side and chairs on either end but don’t forget the lovely glass doors either. Also, it has a seating area where I could also choose to lay on. I haven’t decided the material of the bathroom but I know it’s going to be nice tiles. As for the tub, it’ll probably have to house a Jacuzzi type of power. I’m sort of stumped on the tub but I’m hoping I’ll be able to figure it out soon enough. I want it to be like that classic tub. You know what I mean. Where you can fill the tub up with bubbles, rest your head back, and best of all have plenty of space nearby for your glass of vino, salts, and other essentials. I need my bathroom to be overall soothing because it’ll be my own private oasis, my sanctuary. I definitely don’t say a bathroom leading directly to a bedroom. I require a “staging” room. It needs to have a big mirror and smaller handheld mirrors, some of which are magnifying. In this small in between area, I want a very soft ottoman type chair. I want it to have tons of storage space for my tampons, cotton balls, nail polish, etc. I think this room should be carpeted. Something about this carpeted nook just makes it feel oh-so-special. As with almost every room, this one will need a window. I require the music to flow into this room as well. Lighting is definitely key- as usual. I believe this is also the room where I put my make-up on and clear my face up for bed. I proceed to my bedroom, a sanctuary of its own. In this room, I have no television. My bed is plush and very, very welcoming. In a corner of the room, I have a chaise where I love to read a book under my cashmere throw and sip tea. The view is spectacular when my automatic blinds are up. I’m looking for special windows that are remote controlled for this function. If you know of a good window company, let me know. My wardrobe isn’t in this room. I have a walk in closet for that. It’s the size of my one-bedroom now. I love it! Well I best get back to work so I can afford this gorgeous space. Laters!