Sane Is So Boring

Et tu, October?

2011-11-02T18:44:00.000-07:00

October, I had such high hopes for you.

You were to be the month of change and awesome and geek heaven. You betrayed me. You foliage-brilliant bastard, you betrayed me.

“The only consistent thing in life is change” October held true there. I started a new job and moved to a new place basically the same day. It was hell. Hell on overwhelmed and terribly wobbly wheels. I was the car on Highway 64 and my german shepherd, Bartok took the unseemly place of “grandma.”

The job was way out of my comfort zone, but I was damn lucky to get it and I knew its awesomeness would shine after the initial information/technical disaster overloads. I mean, I work from home people. In my pajamas. Yeah, so lucky.

The same time I was moving and starting this new job, we learned that my mother has precancerous cells and will need major surgery. My mother, who is a rock. She got second degree burns last year—her skin literally melted off—and she never made a sound. In fact, she cleaned it up and went back to cooking. No ER or doctor visit. She kept it cleaned, she kept it dry and she kept on.

Rock.

And suddenly my rock was broken. (Though not outwardly.) We’re confident the surgery will go well, she’ll recover and that will be that…but a once unshakable belief I had apparently, deep down, naively depended on my entire life was shattered—leaving me with a face full of undeniable truth.

My mother is mortal.

Son of a bitch.

To say I was overwhelmed, well…

:in computerized voice: System overload. Shutdown is imminent.

I could hear the countdown in my brain. I already had a nice looking corner picked out to rock in once I finally checked out. I was going to share it with Bartok—who is also apparently losing his mind. That’s another post.

I was supposed to go to a Supernatural convention in Chicago two weeks ago. Geek heaven. I also had a ticket to get my picture taken with Jared Padalecki. Bartok was at my Dad’s, my bags were packed, I was up at the ungodly hour of 5:30am, showered and ready…and I sat on the couch, stared at my bag and just started crying.

I wasn’t oblivious to the ridiculous of me, but I was so incredibly overwhelmed (my mom, my dog, still settling into the new job and still moving/unpacking) that a 10 hour drive to an all expense paid Supernatural utopia—was just too much for me.

Again, I wasn’t oblivious to how absurd I was being, but at the time simply rolling out of bed and finding something other than chocolate to eat were valiant efforts on my part.

I stayed home that weekend and worked on unpacking and mentally processing my new norms. I eventually found something else to put in that corner, and now after a month, I feel like I might finally be settling into the new place and job. I also haven’t spontaneously sobbed in a few days, so—go me.

My mom’s surgery is in a couple of weeks. They’re taking a lot more than they had originally planned, but the rest of her tests are coming back good. Keep your prayers on.

As for November… I’ve got my eyes on you. You’ll be good to me and mine or I’ll tell December.

This month I’m going to try and get my secondary norms back on track.

1. Continue training again for Fandom 5K. I will run a 5K. I will. …even if I have to crawl across the finish line.

2. Work on my original novel. If I can get 10,000 words written this month I’ll be happy. No NaNoWriMo, but it’s something.

My next post will be about unicorns. Or zombies. Or zombied unicorns.

Something fun, damnit!

The Saga of Mabel The Squirrel: Revisited.

2011-08-29T08:06:00.000-07:00

These events are true and accurate and were documented in the order presented to you now.

May 4th, 2010 8:43am.

So, I woke up a few minutes ago to what sounded...okay, I don't know what the hell it sounded like, but it was loud and it woke me up and it's only 730am.

Following the sound, I walked downstairs. Maybe Bartok, (my german shepherd) is digging a hole in the floor, I thought as I walked down the steps. It would be the first time ever, but something had to be making that sound. I followed the noise to the fireplace. A squirrel had fallen all the way down and was frantically trying to scrape its way out of the glass partition.

*blink*

I texted my dad, who was laughing too hard to text back. So he called.

The plan:

Try to trap squirrel in box and set free outside.

Step 1. Tinkle.
Step 2. Cross 'baking cookies for dad' off today's to-do list.
Step 3. Obtain large box and blanket
Step 4. Place large box and blanket against fireplace.
Step 5. Be unable to find squirrel.
Step 6. Be impressed by its amazing bicep-ting abilities until I find it cowering UNDER the logs.
Step 7. Slowly open glass partition, body tense and prepared to end up chasing it all over the house.
Step 8. Wait
Step 9. Wait
Step 10. Wait.
Step 11. Throw a spoonful of peanut butter into box. Squirrels like peanuts, yes?
Step 12. Wait
Step 13. Sit on coffee table and start flipping through channels. First is a commercial for peanut butter, so I know I made the right choice.
Step 14. Wait
Step 15. Wait

*sigh* Does anyone know a squirrel whisperer? It won't come out.

Edit: Can squirrels play dead? It's not moving.

Update: Squirrels can play dead! Squirrels can play dead!! SCREEECH!

May 4th, 2010 11:42am

Mabel (the squirrel) is STILL in the fire place. Actually, she has managed to squeeze herself into a half dollar sized hole between the fireplace paneling and wall.

At first I thought it was a big furry worm... until I noticed it was breathing heavily.

Mabel's ass:

I'm starting to worry she'll die in there :( If she doesn't come out of that little hole, I'll have to try and figure out how to take the fireplace apart.

May 4th, 2010 4:27pm

Continuing Mabel's saga.... I decided that if I could block off the two little holes she's completely disappearing in, she'll have a less chance of dying in there. I thought a couple of bricks would be slim, but sturdy enough to do the trick.

I texted my roommate/bff. She's been at work all day and has no idea what has been going on.

Me To Bff: Can you pick up two bricks on your way home?
Bff to Me: What?!
Me: For Mabel!!
Bff: ...
...
...What the hell?
Me: Our Squirrel! So, if you come across two bricks on your way home, could you pick them up?
Bff: ...
...
...
...

She probably thinks I brought one home for a pet or something. She's probably also cursing my name.

Man. I need a life.

P.S. Mabel likes Smoked Almonds, but I think they make her thirsty. (Don't worry. I gave her water too.)

UPDATE: Bff calls and first thing out of her mouth, "Did you hit your head or have too much sugar?"

May 5th, 2010 12:05pm

No pooing in the fireplace.

Mabel, I know it's a lot to ask, but could you possibly hold it until after I find a way to set you free?

Might have found a professional to come reunite Mabel with her family! Weeee!

May 5th, 2010 9:54pm

It's hard owning a squirrel. (Aka: I need a life.)

All she does is eat my almonds and poo in my fireplace. She never wants to play with me and I don't think she'll ever learn her name. And then, of course, there's always the looming threat of rabies.

Warning One: I was telling a friend how I had prepared to try and wrestle Mabel out of the fireplace, but had no thick gloves. I did, however, have an...oven mit. But only one. So, I had wrapped an X-Files t-shirt around my other hand. "Be careful, they carry rabies!" warned my friend. Then, "...why do you only have one oven mit? Do you only use one hand to get hot food out of the oven?"

Warning Two: I was talking to another friend on IM, trying to figure out what to do. "well be careful, the little effers can carry rabies ya know"

Warning Three: Txting another friend. (What can I say, it was the highlight of my week)... okay, well, he actually thought it would be cool to foam at the mouth. Bad example.

Warning Four: When I finally called my landlord/cousin because I just didn't know what else to do, I explained all of my failed attempts. (A) The box full of birdseed. (B) Negotiation. "Mabel, if you come out peaceably, I promise to take you straight outside so you can go home with your family." (C) Placing a small tube against the hole (where her butt was sticking out) that led into a box I had cleverly set up so when I scared her out of the hole, she'd run through the tunnel and into the box...but she just played dead! and didn't move and I lost a pencil in that hole and even after she's gone, I'll still have to take apart the fireplace to get to the pencil so it won't burn down the house! *takes deep breath* Where was I? Oh yes, and also about my (D) oven mit attempt. It was here where she screamed, "You used an oven mit?! It could have rabies!"

May 7th, 2010 9:04pm

May the winds blow gently at your back, Mabel.

Timmy the Trapper came to get her this afternoon. "Can't you set her free here?" I asked.

"She'll just keep coming back inside. I'll take her far enough away so she won't be able to find her way back."

"Oh. 'cause I'll feel bad if she has family, or something."

*crickets*

I tried, Mabel.

I'll remember all our fond times together. Your favorite game, "Hide in the hole." My favorite game, "Try to get you out of the hole." Good times.

Ode to Mabel:

Down the chimney you tumbled,
Though Santa you were not.

You like almonds and apples,

You do not poo in a pot.

Four days you stayed,
My fireplace your home.
Good times we made,
But now you have to go.

Bye, Mabel!

I seem to have lost myself.

2011-08-28T12:53:00.000-07:00

I see the epitome of humanity every day.

One of my jobs is working with mentally/physically challenged individuals. One of my jobs is working at an Alzheimer’s facility. Both are mentally and heart consuming. The Alzheimer’s facility, I’d have to say is where I’m most inspired…and completely and utterly heartbroken on a regular basis. No matter if it was a good day, or a bad day, by the time I get home after a shift, I’ve at least cried once and questioned God.

“I seem to have lost myself.” This utterance repeats in my head often. It was spoken by the first woman diagnosed by Dr. Alzheimer during a brief moment of “lucidity.”

Women at the facility I work at are continuously trying to get home to their husbands—who have long ago left this life. Men are constantly “working” on things that aren’t there.

One woman…one woman relives the death of her son every.moment.of.the.day. And there is nothing, nothing any of us can do or say to get through to her, to free her from the worst moment of her life. She just cries brokenly that, “he’s gone” over and over and I feel like a God awful shit as I finally pry my hand from her tight grip because someone else in the present needs help.

I hate it. God, I hate it. I tell myself that I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t. But then I feel like such an ungrateful, selfish ass because I’m not trapped reliving the worst moment of my life for the rest of my life, so cowgirl the fuck up and make someone smile.

Even still…amongst such heartache, I am awed. Often throughout the day, I will see both men and woman try to help the grief-stricken woman. Their minds may be gone, but their hearts beat on. They can’t talk and they don’t even know who they are themselves—let alone who the crying woman is, but they’ll sit next to her and hold her hand, or try and comfort her by giving her things they don’t realize is just garbage.

To be stripped of everything you are, but still reach out to comfort someone else…that my friends, is the epitome of humanity right there. And it strengthens the hope I thought I had lost in this world.

And also in this, I have just realized, that we are not the sum of our experiences after all.

We are, indeed, the sum of our actions.

Shine on.

For when I turn into a zombie...

2011-08-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

I would like to apologize ahead of time for anyone's brain I may eat.

I did something possibly stupid today.

I saved a suicidal pigeon's life.

It was in the middle of the road and would not move. I had to come to a complete stop. Worried that it would get hit and ignoring the part in my brain that said if it wasn't flying, even if I save it now, it'll die soon, I got out of my jeep and tried to shoo it away. Well, I guess if a jeep couldn't shoo it, I couldn't.

Noticing a metal band on it's leg, I suddenly thought, "Oh! Maybe it's tame!" Slowly, and again ignoring logic I reached down...and picked it up. Though it let me, various friends and relatives yelled at me in my head.

I was doing my own internal screaming. "Omg, look at it blinking slow. It's diseased. I picked up a diseased bird and now I'm going to get bird flu or turn into a zombie." Slowly I walked into someone's yard and set it down. I thought about ringing the doorbell, but decided against it fearing they were old people and that I'd feel bad and end up adopting the bird myself until it's inevitable death.

Wringing my hands for a few minutes, I finally left, hoping it was just stunned. (Please, oh please just be stunned! )

I got in the car, practically bathed in hand sanitizer and went to the movies where I likely infected everyone with the zombie virus. Psst...if you live close to me, don't go to the theater by the mall.

On the up side, Captain America was awesome! Can't wait until May! ...assuming I didn't just kill the world.