It would have been nice if...

I once saw a therapist who had a rational-emotive approach. When I lamented over things I was angry or sad about a situation or a person he would always say "It would have been nice if that had happened, but it didn't", and basically suck it up and deal with it, although that last part was unspoken. Because it's December and as always depression pops up like a letter in the mail. The perpetually unwelcome guest for the holidays. The only one who shows up uninvited. These days Christmas has become an empty time when I can't help but constantly compare the present to the past, and the present always ends up losing. It's really quite ironic because December has been the one month that I have looked forward to throughout the whole year. I have almost literally lived for Christmas. When summer was dreary and lonely I got through it by looking forward to Christmas. I have always felt more alive and excited during December. And December traditions have been of the utmost importance, such as certain Christmas decorations being brought out from storage and placed in their usual spot and watching classic Christmas movies. None of this is important anymore. I don't even have very many Christmas gifts to buy this year since my mother decided that she didn't want to exchange gifts this year. As I do every year, I have secretly hoped that somebody would get in touch to ask what our plans are during the holidays, and would we like to meet up for some mulled wine or something, or even spend Christmas Eve together. Of course, this did not happen, and I knew it wouldn't. My head has gotten the message but my heart refuses to give up on this wish entirely. I suppose it's more like wishful thinking than anything else. By now they would have called and they haven't and if they haven't by now they won't. Naturally, things could be a 1000 times worse. We could be living in Aleppo, watching our world crash down before our eyes along with our family and friends. It's really just a little only child-blues during the holidays. So I decided to do a "It would have been nice" list, to express what it is that I most would have wanted this holiday. 1. It would have been nice if my grandparents were still alive. If they were, we would not have all drifted apart. 2. It would have been nice if my relatives would get in touch during the holidays so that we could, if nothing else, meet up for a cup of coffee or perhaps even spend Christmas together like we used to. Without extended family or friends around it leaves you feeling somehow rootless, as if you don't belong. 3. It would have been nice if my friends would get in touch during the holidays so that we could, if nothing else, meet up for a cup of coffee. 4. It would have been nice if my son had been allowed a sibling, so that he would know what it's like to have other kids around, especially at Christmas. There is really nothing like sharing the excitement on Christmas Eve with other children. 5. It would have been nice if I could rise above it all and shed this sadness during the holidays. These are my "It would have been nice". As they are only that, wishes, I will accept reality for what it is. This holiday I will do my best to enjoy what I do have instead of lamenting over what was.

Losing friends to serious relationships.

Over the years I have lost several friends to serious relationships. While I don't think that dropping your friends because you've met someone is cool by any means - and I can honestly say that I don't do this myself - I do think that people in general simply forget about their friends when they meet someone, without even thinking about it. They do it because it's what people do. It's not something that one should take personally, even though it's hard not to at the time. When we're single our friends fill a need that we have for closeness, company or just a means to escape loneliness and emptyness. When we meet someone that is filled by someone else, and suddenly we don't have time for our friends anymore. We justify it by saying that it's normal, everyone does it. And that is for the most part true. Not that it makes it alright. I think people are generally selfish creatures. We take what we need from other people in order to survive, and when we don't need them anymore we cast them aside. You can't really argue with it or get angry about it, because we're basically just animals and we do what we need to do to stay alive. )This, by the way, is the number one reason for why I prefer dogs to people - dogs aren't fickle). Sadly, I think that no matter how close friends are, we're still disposable once we cease to serve our purpose. In the end, even the deepest friendships fade when a romantic relationship comes along (In most cases). This if of course not to say that there are exceptions to this rule, however rare they might be. But I don't think we can be angry about it, since this is simply human nature, to bad or good, just the way we people are. We use other people because they serve a purpose. Not because we're malicious or like to mess with others, and it's we're not even aware that we do it, it's just in our nature. Then of course, once the relationship ends the distant friend might turn up on your doorstep again, wanting to resume the frienship. Or maybe the friend has an hour to spare because their girlfriend/boyfriend is buy, so they call Ms. Reliable. Since I've never been one to reject people I always accept, but it never feels the same again. Something has been lost. A trust perhaps. It may start to feel like old times again but it never really goes back to being the same. That nagging doubt will always be there. I will never feel quite secure again. Speaking for myself, I've long grown tired of this and have decided that I would rather not have friends at all you have friends. Because as neat as it is to have friends that you think consider you family, it really sucks when they no longer have any need for you, and by relying mostly on yourself instead of the company of others, you save yourself a whole lot of doubt and confusion when that inevtiable time comes when they meet someone and you're left quietly asking yourself "What did I do wrong?", "What did I say?" or "Was I not supportive enough of their new relationship?" It simply takes too much energy and, quite frankly, it hurts my feelings. Spending time with friends who make sudden appearances after a long period of silence is like getting drunk or riding the tilt-a-whirl - it feels great at first and then you feel like crap afterwards. Either that or it just feels plain weird and awkward. It's my own fault, since I have a tendency to make myself too available. I tend to cling to people. However, this all needs to stop now, for my own peace of mind. So, I can proudly say that these days I have learnt how to let go of people. Yes, it's lonely and it's certainly not what I would prefer, however it is a necessary skills that I've been forced to develop. Finally, as someone said in a comment to another blog on a similar subject, a friendship IS a seriously relationship, and if one hasn't figured that out then maybe's that's the problem

To my child...

What I want for you more than ever is a sense of belonging, and a family. I want you to feel happy and at peace. I want you to grow up in a happy household, not one that's sad and empty. I want you to to feel loved and safe and not alone. I want you to grow up as a secure, well adjusted and happy person. I'm sorry if I can't provide that for you. I'm trying as hard as I can, but I'm always afraid that I'm failing. Just know that my intentions were good. I truly did hope and plan for you to have that happy family that I myself never did when I was growing up, and for you to feel secure and that sense of belonging that I never did. I hope you don't turn out to be like me. I hope you're okay with just me, because I will always try my hardest for you.

Summer again

Just for the record, I would like to add that summer is not my favourite season. This summer appears to be no different than the rest of them. It should be sunshine, water and lots of fun. Then again, that word should is a dangerous one. One should just erase all "shoulds" from one's life. Anyway, instead of the above mentioned, for me summer spells out what it almost always has: loneliness, isolation and anxiety. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way, in fact I know I'm not. I just wanted to put that out there for the record. That's all for now. Now I have floors to vacuum and mop.

One year ago today

Exactly one year ago, almost to the minute, we made the heart wrenching decision to have our Kelly put to sleep. We had no time to reflect on it either since she had started bleeding and it became urgent. We phoned the animal hospital and asked if we could come in and they said yes. So we had to say goodbye right then and there. I couldn't even go with her since I had to stay home with Noah, who was asleep. Nick had to walk the short distance with her by himself. I was in a shocked daze. Nick had to tell me to give her a hug and say goodbye now, or I'd always regret it. I hugged her and smelled her fur one last time and told her I loved her. Nick took put on her leash and the only thing I could think was that when the came back that leash would be empty. I watched them walk down the path for the last time, and then my heart broke. After that I paced the apartment back and forth waiting to hear from Nick about what was going on down at the hospital. They had some problems with the injection. Apparently they couldn't find her vein or something. She finally went to sleep around 11:00pm that evening. That was easily one of the worst nights of my life. If there was such a thing as the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind I would have that whole evening erased completely from my mind. I don't care how much pain makes us stronger, that is one thing I really don't care to remember. Now it's exactly one year ago that horrible night and I suppose I wish that she would somehow make her presence known. I wish I could hear her claws clicking across the floor, or smell her, feel her against my leg at night when I'm in bed. If she is running around at the Rainbow Bridge, I hope she pauses today to look down on us for a bit.

Are you waiting for me?

It's been almost a year since you had to leave. I think about you every day. I wonder where you are right now. I wonder if you're running around at the Rainbow Bridge, all happy and full of play, healthy and strong just like you used to be. Knowing you you're probably bullying the other dogs, showing them who's boss. I can picture you playing tug of war over a big stick with a big rottweiler and never giving up, just like before you were plagued with illness and old age, when your bones were still strong and your body free of tumors. I hope you were happy living with us, and I hope you knew, and still know, how much your mommy loves you and how much you enriched our lives. I wonder if you're waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge. When the day comes, will you come running towards me as fast as you can, tail wagging and eyes smiling? I can picture it. Paws running through the green grass, the wind flying through your beautiful fur, your mouth open in a wide grin and the tongue hanging out. If you do, I'll wrap my arms around you and press my face into your fur just below your ear, where your fur is the softest and you smell like you. I'll inhale your scent and nuzzle you and feel your warmth and softness, just like before. Then we'll play some tug of war with a stick, your very favourite game. Make up for lost time. I wish I knew just where you are, so I would know for certain that we will see each other again, since the thought of never seeing you again is too much to bare. A lot of people wouldn't get it. You were "just a dog", they'd say. But anyone who's ever had a dog that they loved just as much as they were your own child would get it. Anyone who feels happiness and tranquility when they look into a dog's eyes would get it. Those of us who get so much more out of a pure creature like a dog than we do out of people know that your dog could never be "just a dog". As any devoted dog owner knows your dog occupies a special corner of your heart, and when they die it breaks and you feel like you will never be the same again. So I hope you're up there waiting for me at the bridge, and that you're not missing me too much but are too focused on play and making friends to think of me, but that you still look down on me every now and then and even make your presence known. Are you waiting for me my crazy, wonderful girl?

Holiday anxiety

It's that time of the year again...Easter is approaching. For some odd reason I had thought that this year would be different since Easter falls at the end of March and the ice on the lakes is strong, and the weather has been good. It seems that everybody has plans except us, just like at Christmas. Usually November and December are the best months of the years for me, where I feel less anxious and sad. Not so last year. In fact November and December 2012 were months laced with sadness and a growing anxiety as Christmas approached. Now that I have a child it's suddenly become all the more important to have a nice, normal and stable family. Since that is not very likely my anxiety grows as the holidays approach because holidays are for family and for spending time together. I didn't grow up with siblings but I was fortunate enough to have lots of extended family around to spend holidays with. These days when the grandparents aren't around anymore the extended family has scattered with the wind. Each year as Christmas, Midsummer and Easter approach I invariably, secretly wish that we could all spend the holidays together, or at least some of us. It never happens. I suppose I want Noah to feel the sense of belonging that I never felt when I was growing up. A child should be around other children. There should be excitement and magic around the holidays, not just him alone with four adults in a dysfunctional family. I don't want him to grow up to be like me. There should be play and fun and lots of noise and people, not silence. I want that for him. The knowledge that I can't provide that for him on my own makes me feel sad. It is true that for now he really only needs his parents but soon that's not going to be enough. I'm someone who has always hated everything "normal", maybe because things have never been "normal" for me. Right now normal seems pretty good to me. It feels like everybody has plans for the holidays. Skiing in the mountains, going off to a cabin, fishing, egg hunts, big family dinners. We have no plans at all and no funds to really make any. This blog entry is turning into a real pity party, which is not what I intended. My point is that the holidays are hard when you compare yourself to others. It's those damned expectations that you just can't stop yourself from having. Actually no, it's not expectations...it's impulses and association. I associate the holidays with family get-togethers or time spent with friends. Even though it hasn't been that way for many years now that association is pretty hard to break. I should lose touch with my inner child and just forget all the childish expectations. Anyway there are many people out there with far worse problems. So I should just shut up and stop complaining. Just wanted to express the fact that for some people holidays are difficult.

Another summer day

Today was another sunny day and Noah and I were on our own again. Today we walked over to the toy store and I got Noah some activity toys. A rattle made of wood with a bell and different shapes connected to it and a mock cell phone, which continues to start dialing and talking even though no one is pressing it. Then we walked up to a park and I spread out a blanket for us to seat on and we spent an hour or so there. I tried to entertain him and we did have some good laughs, but eventually he got tired of it and we left. We went for another walk and went by the store. He fell asleep and because I didn't want to wake him up I spread the blanket out on the lawn outside our balcony and read while he took his nap. I do try to keep busy and do things to make it special for him. I just hope I'm doing things right.

Today

Today we walked downtown, across the bridge over to Frösön and then along the shoreline all the way to beachfront on the south side of the island. Noah did pretty well in the stroller, even if the sun does bother him somewhat. I wasn't sure where we were going but isn't it more fun that way sometimes. We sat right in front of the water for a few minutes and Noah got to watch the water. There were a lot of boats out on the water and I imagined being on one. How peaceful it must be. We then hiked back the same way we came and went through the town again, which was crowded with people there for the festivities. It seems like everybody were in groups or in couples. We trodded our way across the crowded town square and walked all the way up to the café close to the woods where we often walk. I had to bring the stroller into the café when I got something to eat even though you're not supposed to because it's cramped in there, but I didn't want to leave Noah alone outside. I had an oat and nougat cake and sparkling lemon water and Noah had a fruit cup. We sat as much in the shade as possible. There was a chocolate brown poodle sitting tied to a tree next to us and I talked to him. Friendly little bugger. I was in no hurry to go home, but eventually we had to make our way home since Noah was getting tired and probably a little fed up sitting in the stroller. Now we're home. There is stuff to do even when you're on your own with a baby. It does feel empty somehow but I try to wave that aside and focus on just making something of the day. Oddly enough I'm not really tired even though we walked so far. We'll see what we get up to tomorrow. The aim is simply to get through the day and try to make the most of it.

Summer

Barbeques, beaches, picnics, outdoor parties, travel, even gliding on the water in a boat if you're lucky. Yes, for many people summer is the best season. I agree. These things are some of the best things one can experience. The water is fabulous, whether it's just a small lake or an extraordinary ocean. Some of the best times of my life have been spent on or around the ocean. I have to admit though, I have never been on a boat in my life, unless you count an estuary or a large ferry. Oh wait, there was this one time when I was 18 and went on a boat ride on my friend's boat. This was on the local lake. Anyway, all these things are great and it's easy to see why summer is so popular. However, if these things are absent from your life, for whatever reason, summer just becomes one long black hole where your days are spent lamenting times that have passed. I didn't expect this summer to be very extraordinary, because I knew that Nick would be working most of the time and that my parents would spend most of their time at the cottage and Noah and I would be left to our own vices. I actually didn't expect it to be this bad. I must say I'm surprised. As always, friends seem to be disappear during the summer, off on their vacations or just plain busy. I honestly didn't expect to see much of them this summer. Admittedly, I didn't expect my social calendar to be this empty, but oh well. I can deal with that, I have before and will again. It's been a long time since I stopped expecting anything. Placing your happiness in other people's hands is futile and will never make you happy. All I ask for is peace of mind. As things would have it, this was also too much to ask for. Last week we attended my grandmother's funeral. This hit me pretty hard since I hadn't seen her in a few years and we were planning to go down and visit her with Noah this summer. We never made it and so Noah and his great grandmother never got to meet. It's ironic that the family gathering that I had been wishing for for so long ended up being for her funeral. I made sure to take a lot of pictures, especially with Noah and his relatives, so that we can at least have those pictures to show him once he's older and let him know that he does have family out there other than just us. I know we remaining family members are never going to see each other anymore. When the last remaining grandparent dies it's as if the rest of the family don't have any reason to get together anymore and there are no more family dinners or occasions and all holidays are spent among just the immediate families. So this summer has been a bit of a downer, you could say. Noah and I have walked the streets and paths of the surrounding areas during those days where it hasn't rained, and a few times I have brought along picnic fixings and we've sat on the grass. Since Noah can't sit up on his own yet he quickly tires of just sitting on the grass since he can't really play yet. But I do try to make it fun for him, even if it's just the two of us. I'm really all that he needs at the moment I suppose. There will come a time though when he will start to crave more companionship and more action, and I'm afraid I alone won't suffice. I know from experience what it's like to be a child and feel lonely and excluded, and I want to make sure he doesn't feel like this when he's growing up. Of course, Facebook doesn't help things with all the status updates about vacations and parties and barbeques. I feel like I'm on the outside looking in. For some odd reason, I thought it would be different when you had children. That somehow magically, you would suddenly become part of some club. Not so. Deep down I really do love summer. I always have. It's just that because it never lives up to my expectations, or as the case is these days: just my feeble wishes, it ends up being a source of sadness and feelings of isolation. I even start to doubt my own existence. When you barely see anyone for days and only speak a few words per day you start to have some really odd thoughts. Like, if I'm not seen, do I really exist? Of course I know we do exist, seen or not, but when you're more or less cut off from the outside world you start to have moments of doubt. At this point I have given up on summer and am now anticipating autumn. I hope that it will be a good one.

I don't care

Morning thought. About celebrities, I don't care about their personal life since it's none of my business. I really like Sally Field but that doesn't mean I have to know what she does in her personal life. Obsessing about the lives of others, particularly total strangers, is a sign that there's something lacking in one's own life.

Seeking peace of mind

I haven't felt at peace in...well I never have. There was a time though when I did feel more at ease, and more comfortable with myself. I was only 18-19 years old then and hadn't really lived and I know I can't ever go back to that time, and those days had their own set of problems so I don't think I'd want to anyway. There is something to be said for being young and naive and a social recluse. Even though it's lonely it is at least somewhat peaceful to live in your own little fantasy world. I've been longing to get back to that lately. A comfortable place where I can focus only on writing fiction and where I don't give a crap about if my writing is good or not because I am just writing for the fun sheer fun of it. I deactivated my Facebook account yesterday. I just wasn't enjoying it anymore. I just got tired of reading about the same things every day and feeling that my own life is inadequate in comparison to other people's, even though I know that statuses are embellished and often don't reflect the truth. I also didn't like how I wasn't able to express myself freely and say what was really on my mind because my real thoughts wouldn't be acceptable. There is always the pressure that everything has to be so "normal" and cheerful and life affirming. Every time my status was less than life affirming and positive I always felt judged, that people were sitting there going "She's such a whiner!" or "She's such a weirdo!". It's not okay to be down for no specific reason. I don't want or need to know all the mundane, every day activities that people get up to, like have a cup of coffee for example. When everything is always the same day after day it just kills me. I also don't another way to feel unpopular, ignored or disliked. It's like how it is with cell phones. When you don't have a cell phone you can't be reached everywhere and you can at least fool yourself into thinking that the reason people aren't calling you is because they can't get a hold of you. But with cell phones and Facebook and email the truth stares you right in the face. There are no excuses for not getting in touch because with so many choices of communication you can't escape the fact that people aren't getting in touch with you because they don't want to. Well, given what I just said this next bit is going to sound like I'm contradicting myself, but I feel a certain kind of peace when I'm not contacted by people. People actually drive me crazy. I don't like people. I like animals. If there was a Facebook for dogs and cats I'd be there instead, naturally I wouldn't really quality for it but if I could fake my way in somehow I would. I have found that in order to achieve some sort of inner peace it's necessary for me to withdraw a little from the outside world. Not completely of course, I can't very well do that now that I'm a mother. I don't want my son to dislike people too. I don't want him to be like me. I want him to be happy and well adjusted and a people person. However, my spending too much time on Facebook is hardly the way to achieve that for him, rather it will have the opposite effect since it took precious time away from him. Although I do miss Facebook, it's more like the missing is a sort of compulsion or an impulse. Like missing your usual morning line of cocaine. I will probably return to Facebook in time but for now I am taking a much needed vacation from it. I have to say that I was happier before I even heard of it, and hopefully I can get back to that now. There is a lot to be said for being a recluse.

Almost 3 weeks now

Kelly has been gone for almost 3 weeks now, and the grieving has turned from desperate to a hollow ache for her. Sometimes it almost feels as though she was a dream. Like she wasn't even here at all. I thought I was over the worst, but this second stage of the grieving process is almost worse. The more time that passes the more remote she seems and at times it's almost unbearable. We got her ashes back. She now sits in an urn on top of our bookshelf. Some of her will be spread at the cottage where she loved to be so much while she was still alive. One of her sticks was cremated with her, so that she'd have something to play with in the great beyond. Although I bet at Rainbow Bridge she'll have all the sticks she'll need. Her blanket still smells like her. I handle it very carefully because I'm so scared that it'll stop smelling of her. I've developed this desperate need to be around dogs. I crave dog! Life is just not the same without a dog around. Animals, but especially dogs, make life a whole better. Right now we have no animals around, and it sucks. I stare at dogs when I pass them on the street. Their owners must think I'm psychotic. I turn around and stare, while trying to act casual. If it's a German Shepherd it's a sadness mixed with joy. I wish she was here right now. If she was, I'd hug her and press my face against the side of her head again. Smell her. We gave her food and her treats away the other day. It was worse than I thought it would be. It felt sort of like a betrayal. Removing her beloved treats from their usual spot in the pantry was especially hard. I know it's good that another dog gets to enjoy them, but it still feels odd. She always used to go to the pantry and sit down in front of it and stare at it, and then she'd glance at you, and then back at the pantry. Her way of saying that she wanted a treat. I know nobody can live forever. She was bound to leave us sooner or later, but the absence of her is at times almost too much. I wish I could hear her, or feel her, like some dog owners say that did the weeks after their dog had died, but I hear nothing and feel nothing. I wish I could, but I don't.

Grieving our dog

Kelly, our beloved German Shepherd, passed away last week.
She was 11 years and almost 2 months.
She had been sick lately, from some kind of growth in her abdomen, but apart from that and her failing eyesight due to cataracts she was doing well. She still had zest for life and a healthy appetite for food.
I secretly felt guilty for not putting her down, but it just felt wrong to do it when she was still herself, just not as spry as before. The not being spry part is to be expected from a mature lady of her age.
Then one day last week she got up and wasn't herself. She was listless and didn't want to eat, and later on started bleeding. At first we thought, or rather hoped, that she started her heat unusually early, but I the moment I saw the first drop of blood on the floor and put that together with her behaviour I knew what was up.
I felt this chilling sensation creeping up my neck, because I knew that this was it.
That same night, we had to take her in to animal hospital to have her euthanized. Her bleeding started increasing and increasing, until we realized she might not even make it through the night.
The dreaded decision was here.
I wasn't even able to be there with her. Our 4-month old baby was asleep and my parents were out of town so we didn't have anyone to stay with him. My spouse walked her over to the hospital himself.
I said goodbye to her, almost frantically, wanting it to be over with quickly. No matter how many hugs and kisses I gave her it would never be enough so I just wanted this terribly painful moment to be over with.
I wonder if she knew what was going on. She might have been too busy trying to lick up her own blood from the floor. In all this, her main concern was cleaning up after herself.
They left. I watched through the window as they walked off. I saw her walk off towards the area where she used to play and do her business. I saw this for the last time.
Hours later, Nick came back, alone. He had Kelly's collar and leash with him. He also had the red bandana she always wore.
They weren't worn by her anymore. They were empty.
For some reason that's one of the saddest aspects of putting your pet down.
You leave your house with a living pet and return with an empty collar and leash.
The bandana still has her smell on it. Her soft fur.


From the moment she came to live with us and up until the day she passed I never stopped fearing the day she would have to leave us. I knew it would be horrible, and reality did not fall short of my fears.
Anyone who has lost a beloved pet knows how hard it is. It's inhuman. I wonder if this kind of pain is even worth having a dog.
I can still smell her on her blanket where she used to sleep on the bed at night. It's covered in her fur because she had started shedding shortly before she died.
We used to go to bed together at night. When I would take off the bedspread and lift the cover to get into bed she would hear it and take the sound to mean that it was time to go to bed, and I would hear her get up and hear her footsteps approaching. Then she'd appear in the doorway and make her way over to the bed and climb on and settle down next to me, after doing a few circles of course to make sure she was in the right spot.
I won't wash her blanket because I want to keep the smell of her as long as possible. We had to wash her pet bed because it had blood on it.
It makes me sad to think that the smell of her will decrease in intensity and then one day will disappear all together, as though she never existed.
When she had laid down next to me I would reach out and put my hand on her and stroke her or pat her. Feel her warm body, her soft fur underneath my hand. Sometimes I'd kiss her goodnight and press my face against the side of her head, just underneath her ear, where her fur was softer than on any other part of her body. I'd take a good whiff and soak up her special smell.
Then we would sleep side by side.
Evenings are the hardest, probably because of our nightly ritual, but probably also because things slow down and you have more time to think.
I glance over at the spot where she used to sleep, which is now empty.
You hear of some pet owner who have felt the animal's presence after they have passed away. The sound of their paws on the floor. The warm sensation of the animal rubbing up against their leg.
I thought if I left her favourite ball and her rubber ring on the floor, she might appear. I must admit that I even threw the ball at her at one time, just in case she'd be there to fetch it. She loved doing that.
I keep wondering where she is now, and if she's forgiven me for not being with her at that moment when she passed away.
I wonder if she's happy now, if she's at Rainbow Bridge waiting for us.
If she is there, I can guarantee that she's the dog that plays the hardest and the wildest, and she'll try to be leader of the pack.
See you later Kelly. I love you.

Shot in the head

I just had the oddest dream that I feel like writing down because I know I will forget it otherwise.

I was attending a political meeting, together with top politicians from all over the world. Oddly enough my parents were there too, and this meeting was held at a junior high school.
The Russian president either to step out or he changed seats with me, because for some reason I was sitting in his seat.
Suddenly, I don't know, I became aware that there was an assassin somewhere in the room. A sniper with a rifle. And he was after the Russian president, and since I was sitting in his seat I became the target. In an attempt to shield myself I burrowed into the people that were sitting around me so that he wouldn't hit my vital body parts. However, he still managed to shoot me twice in the back of the head.
I just remember feeling a slight, stabbing pain, like a headache, other than that I was lucid and talking like normal. I was explaining to the people in the room that I had been shot twice in the head, and that I needed medical attention. Everybody kept assuring me that I would be taken care of, but the meeting still continued so I suppose any medical attention would have to wait for the meeting to end.
I started looking around for the assassin and when I looked up towards the ceiling I noticed four vents located high on the wall. Behind one of them I could make out a rifle and the outline of a man. Clearly this was the sniper that had shot me. He was just calmly hanging around.
I leaned over to my dad and whispered to him "I found the sniper. He's behind the third vent up on the wall. Look!"
My dad barely reacted. He just calmly said something like "Yes, I see".
It was all a remarkably subdued affair. The fact that I had been shot in the head twice was given no more attention than a hornet buzzing around the classroom would have. Yes it was a problem, but nothing that stopped the meeting from continuing. And absolutely no one bothered to go after the assassin, even though there were other presidents and top politicians in the room.
The meeting carried on with me feebly pointing out that maybe an ambulance was a good idea. Although I was feeling fine. Just slightly uncomfortable.
Then after the meeting there was another meeting for pregnant mothers, held in the same school. At this meeting, parents got to find out their unborn babies' IQ as well as 5 personality traits that the baby already possessed, even though it hadn't even been born yet. All you did was enter some information in a computer program and wham...the computer spat out a neat row of personality traits. These personality traits could be things like:
"Cheerful
Neat
Hot headed
Slow
Good cook"

For anyone who has ever played Sims 3, they will know that this is exactly how you choose your Sims' personality traits when you create them.
Because I still had the bullets in my head I had a hard time focusing on my computer screen, but I think my unborn baby had traits such as "Stubborn" and "Genius", and that's all I could remember. The IQ was high but again, I was too out of it because of my gunshot wounds that I couldn't remember.

Eventually I think I staggered off and finally got treated for my wounds. It was no big deal. I was out of the hospital in no time. The next day I was walking around like normal, and trying to tell people what had happened, and getting no reaction at all.
"You know that Russian president shooting"?
"Yeah"
"That was me, I was the one who got shot instead."
"Oh."

I kept trying to find a way to access that computer program again to find out for sure my baby's personality traits and IQ, by searching on Google, but I couldn't find it.

At this point I woke up.

Quite an eventful night.
The latter part of the dream is pretty obvious, I'm curious about what my baby will be like, and apparently intelligence must be something I would value because why else would IQ and genius be a part of it. The fact that the list of personality traits looked so much like it does in the Sims 3 tells me I have been playing it too much.

The first part of the dream about me taking two slugs for the Russian president remains a mystery though. The part about me not getting medical treatment and no one taking my getting shot seriously must mean that I feel I'm not receiving attention or care when it comes to some problem I'm having.

Dreams are cool, as long as they're not nightmares. As odd as this one sounds it wasn't a nightmare, even though the feeling of walking around with two bullets in my head wasn't exactly pleasant.

Leaving your baby alone outside

I always found this odd, that some parents will leave their baby in the stroller outside while they're in a restaurant or in their apartment. It would only take 10 seconds for somebody to walk by and grab the baby.
A Swedish woman is being charged with bad parenting after she left her baby in its stroller outside a restaurant while she went inside to order food. She claims that it's normal in Sweden to do this, and that she had her eye on the stroller the whole time. I don't know, is this normal in Sweden? I do know that I have lived both in North America and Sweden and while I have never seen a lone stroller with a baby in it anywhere in Canada, I have seen it many times in Sweden.
I wouldn't do it myself. It would be nice to trust my fellow human beings, but the fact is I don't and I would certainly not be willing to test out this life affirming attitude on my baby. Call me a cynic if you must. If I lived in a village where everybody knew each other I might consider it, if I was close to the stroller, but even then it seems like an odd thing to do.
If I had a crucial need to buy some tacos, I would just simply have to forgo that particular pleasure. If I wanted my baby to sleep outside for a while and get some fresh air, I would just have to bring out a chair and sit next to the stroller.
Like I said, it only takes 10 seconds or less.

A baby

I haven't been blogging much lately. The reason for that is that the inspiration hasn't really been there. There is also another big reason for my recent laziness.
In the beginning of May we found out that we're going to have a baby. I'm going to be a mommy. I entered my second trimester recently and we just found out the other day that it's a boy. So, naturally there have been a lot of thoughts flying around in my head. Am I going to make a good mother? Is he going to look like me or like Nick? Are we going to always be able to provide for him? Should we move to a bigger place? Things like that. The practical details don't seem to matter as much as the emotional ones. The biggest concern for me is, am I going to be able to provide him with an emotionally stable life? I never even wanted children until just a couple of years ago, when the idea started to fester inside my brain. Then when a girlfriend, who had told me that she was never planning on having kids, suddenly told me she was pregnant a couple of years ago it got me to thinking. I asked her why she had had a change of heart regarding children, and she said that she didn't want to grow old alone. This made perfect sense to me, since there are certain holes a life partner just can't fill. I suddenly saw before me what it would be like to never have kids and to watch your friends and relatives have their own families while your life always remains the same, quiet, low-key affair. And I realized that it's time I create my own family. I also think that at some point, most of us realize that we want someone to pass on our own legacy, or something to that effect. A part of ourselves. This and the fact that I started constantly seeing babies and kids everywhere, noticing them in a different way, and thinking of how my baby would look and turn out, made me finally take that plunge. We wanted to wait until we're back in Vancouver, but I'm not exactly 23 anymore and how long can we afford to wait? We were surprised at how quickly I became pregnant. In fact, due to my overly realistic assumption about how long it would take to conceive, our baby is due to arrive around New Year's Eve. Had I been able to choose, I would have wanted him to been born any other time but around the holidays. Imagine having your birthday on New Year's Eve, or worse, on Christmas Eve. Oh well, it is what it is now and what really matters is that he's born healthy and that the rest of the pregnancy is as relatively smooth as it has been so far.
Apart from fatigue, I have had surprisingly few pregnancy symptoms. Although this second trimester seems to so far be filled with emotional ups and downs. I feel like a walking bottle of nitroglycerin, waiting to explode at any second. I am feeling extremely irritable, but it's hard to tell with me if that's due to the pregnancy or not since I'm usually a rather temperamental person. I'm guessing it's a combination of hormones and my normal crabby self.
I'm also experiencing a fierce protectiveness of my unborn baby, and I get angry with anything and anyone that I feel is a threat to us. I think I'm paranoid when I think that any stress, emotional or physical, is a direct threat to the baby. I cringe at raised voices because I know the baby can hear everything that's going on, and I don't want him alarmed in any way. I guess I want to give him the stability and happiness that I didn't always have when I was growing up. That's why I worry about not being a good enough mom to give him that. I'm afraid that we're powerless against genetics and upbringing, and that we're doomed to repeat our parent's mistakes. I suppose it's normal to think that way. I'm just glad I can recognize my shortcomings and do my best not to let them overpower me. I know I'm far from perfect.
If I am to be honest, I had visions of this little girl with long, dark brown hair and my eyes. So yes, I suppose a part of me dreamed of having a girl. Probably because passing on a part of myself becomes all the more tangible that way. Now it'll be a little Nick instead, which is just fine.
But really, 15 years ago I would never in a million years have thought that I could be a mom. I didn't even think I had it in me. I didn't use to have a maternal bone in my body. I worry that I'm just enchanted with all the perks about having a baby, like be able to buy tiny baby clothes and dress him up like a little doll, and cuddles in bed and seeing him smile for the first time. In reality there are a lot of tough times ahead with lots of sleepless nights. And nothing will ever be the same again. Someone else always has to come first now. I realize all this. I wonder if everyone who decides to have a baby does.
Well, whether or not I will suck at it or be good at it will be apparent in about 4 and a half months.

Bye bye vibration

I finally realized that you can turn off the vibration option on your cell phone. I have tolerated it for a long time now, but with the new model I'm currently using, a Sony Ericsson F100i, I have found that the vibration is strong enough to wake the dead.
Why have a mute option if the vibration is going to be as loud as the ringer itself? There have been times when I have muted the phone so as not to be disturbed, and even placed it between two thick pillows to avoid hearing it vibrate. With this phone, even that doesn't work. You can be in a deep sleep, and still wake up from that bloody phone. The only way to avoid being bothered by it is either turning it off or throwing it off a cliff. The second option has become more and more appealing lately.
What's even worse is when I'm teaching a class, or worse, in the middle of an interpretation, and the thing starts ringing. Everyone can hear the vibration, and all over the room you see people looking around, peering anxiously at their bags going "Is it mine??" "No I think it's mine". And then I have to confess, "No, I think it's mine". Or if it's someone elses I do what everybody else does and check my phone too, just in case it's mine, even though it's totally inconsequential since I'm not going to answer while I'm working anyway, but I habitually check it anyway, as most of us do. They invented the mute button so we could avoid this, but I'll be damned if it doesn't happen anyway.
Is the vibration function supposed to serve as a sex toy as well? Because given its strength, I can certainly see how that would be possible. Is this what they had in mind when they designed the Sony Ericsson F100i especially for women? It's small and dainty and the buttons are tiny, but what it lacks in size it definitely makes up for with its vibration function.
Anyway, now I can blissfully say that this no longer is a problem for me. Praise the option to turn off the vibration! No more "BZZZZ...BZZZZZ...BZZZZ!!!! A sound I have slowly grown to despise, as much as fingers on a chalkboard or gum being chewed.
Yay!!!

I hate animal movies

Not because I don't like animals, but because I love them and it seems to be a must in any Hollywood moving featuring an animal that the animal must in some way get hurt or die. I just can't bare to watch this. Why would I want to see that? I don't care if it's a supposedly happy ending where the animal is at peace because it sacrificed its own life to save a human being. To me this is a terrible ending. The animal dies while the human lives! I mean, no offense to humans, but I'll take animal over a person any day.
Yesterday I caught the ending of this horse movie called "Amanda", and was appalled when they used the horse to drag a flipped-over jeep upright so that the people inside it could get out. It was apparently some kind of emergency. The horse died a painful death in the process, blood seeping out from the wounds it got from pulling on the reigns. My god!!! Why do I need to see that?? And it didn't help that seconds after the horse had gotten the truck to an upright position, we hear rescue sirens approaching. If they had waited 2 more minutes the people in the car would have been saved and the horse wouldn't have had to die to save them! This made me so mad. It was supposed to be one of those sappy Hollywood moments where we cry tears of happiness over the fact that the horse gave its life for its owners. Well all I could do was curse their stupidity and lament the fact that this beautiful animal had to die such a sad death. I couldn't stand the little boy, played by Kieran Culkin, who was the main character, and who came up with this brilliant idea in the first place. It was like nails on a chalkboard watching that whole agonizing scene and I wish I had changed the channel instantly instead of putting myself through that horse crap (pun intended).
It doesn't matter how happy the ending is, I refuse to watch a movie where an animal dies. I cried my eyes out watching "Eight Below". Yes, the dogs were eventually rescued, but what about the ones that died? I just can't cope with it. I should be able to, since they're only movies, but when it comes to animals it's like my common sense and rationality fly out the window.
Then I remind myself that horrible things actually do happen to animals on a daily basis. Like that awful case of a beautiful German Shepherd who had to spend 10 years tied up in a backyard in her own filth with no toys, no comforts and being abused by her owners. If I got my hands on her owners, I don't think I would ever stop hitting. I'd subject them to the very same treatment that they inflicted on their poor dog. I.e I would pee on them, tie them up and let them soil themselves and allow them to live in their own feces etc. See how they like it.

I'm slightly hormonal today, and rather cranky, and am realizing that this post turned into somewhat of an angry rant. Oh well. When it comes to animal abuse, I'm slightly psychotic. I'd like to form a vigilante and go after all those morons who get their jollies out of torturing animals. A mere fine just isn't enough of a punishment.

I better end this post now and take a few deep breaths, and try to get that lame horse movie out of my head.

Elvis is my king

Never in my life have I been so affected by a singer as when I discovered Elvis, at the age of 18. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning, as corny and cliché as that might sound. There's just no other way to describe it.
I was working in a photo frame store in a mall at the time. I was bored with the job, as I always am with repetitive things, and it was hard to get the days to pass without letting out a scream of frustration. It was a slow day, and as always I let my mind wander. Suddenly Elvis crossed my mind, and I swear it was like this jolt inside my stomach, the kind of feeling you get when you see someone and realize you're in love with that person. All of a sudden I was hooked, and on my lunch break that day I ran up to the library and started digging out any information I could find on him.
An obsession was born. As always, whenever I really like something I go overboard. My whole world became Elvis for years. I bought his music, his movies, his biographies, framed huge posters of him and hung them on the walls of my girlhood room. I dyed my hair jet black to look like him and even tried to dress like him. Bright pink and purple shirts and black suits. On the anniversary of his death I lit candles and placed a red rose in the memorial garden in the local cemetery.
The obsession eventually wore off when I went out there and got myself a life of my own, but the love for Elvis and his music is still there. There has never been anyone like him in my opinion. I find it amazing that he can have such an impact on someone like me, who was barely out of diapers when Elvis died and who was never exposed to him or his music growing up. Yet for some reason he grabbed me, the same way that he continues to spellbind people, young and old. Isn't that pretty amazing, considering he died in 1977 and his music style is so far from what's popular today. It may not be cool to like Elvis, but the fact is millions of people still do. And I don't really care if it's cool or not. I still love his music from the 50's, when he just had his breakthrough. I don't count his movie music from the 60's when I say I like Elvis's music, however when he made his come-back in 68 his voice had deepened and although I by far liked his 50's stuff so much better than what he did in the late 60's and 70's, I really like his voice here. You can hear the depth of it in the remix of A Little Less Conversation, which by the way rocks.
The only other person who comes close to having that special quality that his voice contained is K.d Lang. As far as charisma goes, I don't think there is one singer out there who even comes to close to Elvis.
He's magical. He's my hero. And yes, I am aware that he died fat and strung out on prescription drugs in his bathroom. So what? That doesn't change who he was in the 50's.