What we owe our furred and feathered friends

Today's Dear Abby upset me. A lady wrote in about her chihuahua because she can't decide if she should put him to sleep, or have him move to another state with her. Her reasoning was that he was old and she was worried that the change from Florida to New York would be too much for him. My first response was, "Dude, buy the dog a damn sweater and be done with it!" A few minutes later, I was thinking about how guilty she'd feel if the dog died in New York after only a few months of winter, but then I thought that she'd feel even guiltier if she were to put him to sleep now and then think about how much she missed him later.

The thing about animals is, that we're all they've got. We have jobs and hobbies and families and friends that take us out of the house every day, and while we're gone, our pets sit and wait for us to come home. When we do, they are excited, but I think a lot of people misinterperet their response to our homecoming. My guinea pigs would wheek for lettuce or a treat of some sort, my cat wants me to turn on the bathroom sink for him to drink, my bird wants me to chirp at him (he kisses, I kiss, etc. for several minutes...it's cute...), my brother's dog will grab one of your shoes and greet you with it (she never greets you empty-mouthed), and my grandparent's dog used to demand pets and loves, just like my old cat used to do. I think a lot of people think that pets do these things because they're treating us like their meal tickets or personal ear massage slaves, but the truth is that we've been gone for a long time, or you know, however long it takes to get the mail downstairs, but we've been gone. Your pet wants affirmation that you still love him. He wants those scratches, those kisses, that faucet turned on, because it shows him that you were not gone because he was a bad boy, but because you just had to go out for a while. You're good with each other, bro. Really.

It's really easy, when you're out until midnight with your bestie, watching the premier of the movie that you've been looking forward to for ages, to forget that your pet doesn't have that. Your pet is confined to the house and the garden/balcony/whatever outside place you have, and they have no friends of their own species to hang out with. When you leave, your cat is not going to go hit up the kitty across the way and have a cup of tea while discussing the current financial crisis. No, he goes and lays on your pajamas because they smell like you, and you are his god.

And someone is thinking of repaying this loyalty by putting him to sleep?

I put my last cat to sleep because of health problems. Her kidneys were failing, and there was nothing I could do, but I still wonder if there was something I could have done differently. Both of my guinea pigs died after long lives and plenty of love, and I still wonder if I could have done more for them.

Thank goodness that little hateful bird is still going strong. (I love you, Rain. You know it.)

Animals give us so much and they ask for so little in return. So what if your piggy wants a carrot every time you open the refrigerator door? You know it's not good for him, but you also know that you can pluck off a sprig of mint or basil and that will make him happy. So what if your cat wants you to take five seconds to give his head a pat when you walk through the door? Yes, you are tired and probably had a really bad day at work, but so did he if you think about it.

Think about it. They aren't stuffed animals, they are real, living beings, and they deserve our respect and love and consideration. They aren't disposable. You will never have another Whiskers, Woodstock, Rain, Chekhov or Oskar again. Give them a chance.

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

This is not a book review. I don't think I could review this book because anything I could say about its brilliance and power would fall short of the true meaning of the book. However, in light of the fact that my uterus, and every other uterus in America, has suddenly become a stomping ground for both of the "big political parties" in America, I have been thinking about it a lot.





Firstly, Republicans, my uterus is none of your business. What goes on inside of it, or what doesn't go on inside of it, has nothing to do with you. What I put into my body to stop embryo implantation is no more your business than your Viagra usage is any of my business. Besides, don't you have a men's bathroom to hang out in? Tap your foot, reach for the toilet paper?





Secondly, Democrats, my uterus is not a place for you to plant a flag to make yourselves look so much better. "Hey, we support your rights to use birth control!" I have never heard any of you supporting a man's right to use a damn condom, so no matter how you slice it, you are using my uterus to win votes.





This reminds me a lot of the "gay" marriage debates. As one brilliant man put it, "I don't want gay marriage. I just want marriage. I don't wake up in the morning and have gay coffee." I don't wake up in the morning and take a female shower, then take a female allergy pill and go off in my female car to my female job.





This isn't about "women's rights." It's about the right to be a human being. I don't need anyone telling me that they support my biological functions. I support my own biological functions. I don't need permission to do that.





I don't think that the world will ever go the way of The Handmaid's Tale simply because there are too many people who oppose what the "Religious Right" are saying about my uterus; however I still feel that there are too many people patting my uterus on the head and saying, "That's okay. You'll be all right. We'll take care of this."





In The Handmaid's Tale, Offred was never allowed to talk about male sterility. No one was. It was not an idea that entered into the consciousness of society. A man might be given five or ten handmaidens, and if they were unable to produce a child, it was their fault, not the man's. Similarly, right now birth control is a woman's issue despite the fact that HBC only protects against unwanted pregnancy, not STD's or HIV, and that it should be considered just the first line of defense against unwanted pregnancy alone. After that, there should be a condom to protect against STD's and HIV. If HBC is being taken only to prevent unwanted pregnancy in heterosexual relationships, then there is a responsibility on both parties to prevent that pregnancy. As it stands, most women take HBC to deal with many other issues, including horomone regulation, PMDD treatment, bleeding irregularity, and other mood and physical issues that arise in an ovulating female. HBC is actually a female-specific drug to treat hormonal issues whose side effects often, but not always, prevent unwanted pregnancy.





In The Handmaid's Tale, what started all of the issues in America was a birthrate drop-off. People weren't having children. There didn't seem to be any reason for it, either, or if there was the government wasn't talking about it. We don't have a birthrate drop-off in America. If anything, people should stop having babies and start adopting already. There are so many unwanted children out there that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves. Why aren't the politicians addressing that issue? As it is, my body instead has become a battleground with one side trying to take over, and the other side fighting them off, and I'm supposed to be grateful to the side that's fighting them off and I suppose I am to a degree. I just can't stop thinking, though, that if it was an issue about viagra and prostate cancer and vasectomies that there just wouldn't be an issue in the first place. Women are just lucky we can vote, right?

Migraine, meet Insomnia...

A few years ago, I was having an issue with my body. I would get insomnia about a week before my period, and then the week of my period, I would get a really bad migraine. This lasted for about a year, and then just as mysteriously as the condition came about, it stopped.

Well, it's back. Well, not entirely like last time; last week I had a migraine, got my period, and then this week I'm dealing with insomnia. Looking back, this was all preceded by about a week of extreme exhaustion.

Yes, I'm going to talk to a doctor. I know they're supposed to have all the answers, but I'm a bit sceptical at the moment.

Anyway, I'm just sitting here, fixing every other word that I type because I'm so tired that I can't even do that right any more. I have lab tonight after biology. I hope I don't screw anything up.

The bloody finger

I've been trying to purge some no-longer-necessary file folders from my work this last week and a half. I find it cathartic, and I seem to be the only one who wants to do it, so I've been diving in at will. I have totally messed up the middle finger of my left hand, though. It started with a ripped cuticle, and then it has gone to the point where I actually had gushing blood on Monday. I've put a bandaid on it, and so far I've been better. Unfortunately, the bandaid seems to be taking the brunt of the attack, so I have to change it a few times a day. These file folders are brutal, really.

It reminds me of a story about my grandma, who died almost three years ago.

About ten years ago, the year my cousin realized she was pregnant with the first great-grandchild of the family, we all decided to try and start a tradition that really quickly fizzled out by renting a cabin in Big Bear for Christmas. I sort of wish it had caught on, but it didn't. It was a fun year, though.

My grandma had hurt her finger in a similar fashion, and just like me now, she kept re-injuring herself. One of my cousins said she needed to go into the town to pick up some things from the pharmacy, and since there was really nothing else to do, there was soon a sizable party waiting to head "into town" and get a feel for the place. Grams asked Cuz to pick up some finger cots for her, and Cuz was like, "What is that? What if they don't have them?" Grams was pretty insistant that they would have them, and lo and behold, they did. My cousin came out of the pharmacy laughing and blushing and just having a good time. I didn't know why. I didn't know what a finger cot was.

Back at the cabin, Cuz walked up to Grams and said, "Boy, the pharmacist sure wanted to know what I needed these for!" and then laughed.

My grandma, god bless her, was just confused. "Why?" she asked, full of innocence. "He should have known what they were for."

Then I got a look at them.

Ribbed for your pleasure. Protection. Whatever.

My uncle chuckled, my cousins and I made jokes. My mom and her sister rolled their eyes but laughed when they thought we weren't looking. Things were said about Pregnant Cousin not needing them for a while. In all, the finger cots gave us a lot of enjoyment one night in Big Bear.

About three months before Grams died, my mom, her brother and sister and sister-in-law and I all got together and were moving Grams from one place to another. She never made it to the other place; she was sent to the hospital and never made it out, so it was good that we started cleaning her out so soon. I was in the kitchen, emptying out box after box of hoarded saltine packets and jelly pods while the others were taking care of the rest of the flat. My aunt-in-law was in the bathroom finding similarly hoarded stashes of hospital-sized toothpastes, deoderants, and hotel-sized tubes of soap when suddenly she let out a laugh and walked into the living room. "Mike," she said to my uncle. "Can you please explain why your mother has a box of condoms in the bathroom?" My mom and aunt came out to take a look and I let out a laugh as I rolled one onto my finger. "At least she was safe," my uncle said with a laugh.

We all remembered that Christmas and Cuz being forced to buy them.

Mmmmm...danish

I want a cheese danish so badly right now. I really do. I wonder if Weight Watchers makes a sort of danish? I should look into that. It wouldn't be the same, but I totally want one.

I have a lot on my plate right now, and yet I don't really. Most of what I have going on is in my head. I'm still dealing with cutting A out of my life, and then there's my stepmother, who has been blocked from seeing my Facebook status for almost a year now, and I'm thinking of unblocking her. Thinking of unblocking her makes me think of A, who had blocked me from her Facebook status, but when I asked her about it, she gave me some BS excuse about how she didn't realize it.

Yeah. I...probably need to stop thinking about it, but it's hard. I get angry with her, and I think I'm better prepared to talk about my feelings right now. Blocking me from seeing her Facebook wasn't the only lie she told, as I've said. And yet she kept acting like I was the one she had to protect herself from.

I spent so much of my life being told that my feelings and needs weren't important. I spent so much time taking the blame and responsibility for other people hurting me because I always figured it was somehow my fault. Now that I'm older and in better mental health, I try not to feel that way, but it's a hard habit to break. When she told me that I wasn't "safe" for her to be around, it made me sad at that time, but now I'm angry about it. The whole reason we were having trouble in the first place was because she was treating me badly and I called her on it, but somehow it got twisted to me hurting her when the opposite was true. I fell into the trap again and I felt guilty again for a while until I remembered.

I just really want a danish. I mean, I might be eating my emotions, but at this point I don't care. I think I need a danish.

Freedom is just another word for nothin left to lose

You really understand what true first world problems are when you tell an ex-pat of a "third world" country that you're planning on quitting your fancy government job with tons of security in order to go to school full time and pursue a job that you don't even know if you can get within the next five years, and their reaction is shock and horror. "You have a full-time job with benefits and you're going to quit!?" she almost shrieked. "Why?!" It reminded me of Office Space when Samir was like, "I would love to have that kind of job security!" when Peter was like, "We're going to be here until we DIE!"

(Also: Samir Naga...Naghan...Nagannabehereanymore!)

(I love Office Space a little too much, but I'm okay with that.)

The thing is, I know it's stupid, and I'm actually more than likely going to cash in a tax-deferred account that I've had for the last fourteen years (it should have close to 20,000.00 on it right now, though, so I'm thinking it might just help me out...) that I should be saving for my retirement, and oh yeah, I'm giving up my current retirement benefits and it would probably be best if I just stayed here. Really. One of my coworkers even noted that I'll probably be offered a better job when I go to quit, and maybe five years ago I would have taken it. But now, what am I supposed to do? This is what I want. I'm not going to lose my retirement, I'm just not going to be paying into it any more, and yes the loss of the tax-deferred account is going to be really harsh, and I'm more than likely never going to be able to make that up again.

But to sacrifice it to do something I love and am passionate about...Why would I want to retire?

I do indeed have first-world problems. I live in the first-world, I'm not going to lie about that. I have this opportunity, why wouldn't I take it? If I have to eat food off of my plate that I'm not particularly happy about because there are starving children in Africa/China/French Indochina, then why wouldn't I go get an education for a job that I love when there are women in Africa/China/Malaysia who are never going to get this chance?

Accidental movie review: Diary of a Nymphomaniac

Oh come on. We've all been there. You turn on your Roku and queue up your Netflix feed and start looking for something to watch, but because you have a raging migraine, you're not looking too hard. You see the next movie in the Girl with Dragon Tattoo series, and you're like, "Eh. The first one was...odd." It was also in Swedish, and despite your near-fluency in Deutsch, you must acknowledge that you know nothing of the Swedish language, but you think it's sort of musical and nowhere near as gutteral as Deutsch and you sort of debate about it for a minute, because you want something you can tune out pretty well in order to just relax your burning, throbbing eyes and foreign languages with subtitles sort of counteract that plan, but you decide, "What the heck" and queue Girl with Hornet's Nest tattoo or whatever it's called anyway. Then you get up to make yourself a cup of caffeine infused Earl Grey because let's face it: this movie isn't going to make sense no matter how much of it you watch, where you come in on it, or what language it's being spoken in. You also know it's going to be completely horrible, and you wish that the filmmakers had just stuck with the original title of "Men Who Hate Women," but even that does not fully encompass the horror that is Girl With Dragon Tattoo where surprise!buttsex was not even the worst thing that happened. Twice.

Imagine your surprise when you look up from the kitchen and see some gorgeous thing with a great rack pulling off the reverse cowgirl on some guy in what appears to be a completely mutual dalliance. Completely mutual being surprising as you're pretty sure that "completely mutual" is not a phrase in Stieg Larsson's arsenal. I'm pretty sure that Stieg is one of those feminists who is absolutely convinced that there can be no such thing as mutual consent, and that all sex is rape because men have been in charge of the world for so long that it's impossible for them to have equal relations with women. Sorry, wymmyn. Stieg can't even make same-sex relationships equitable. He takes it one step further.

To confuse me even more, this great-racked goddess also speaks no Swedish that I am aware of. I know she doesn't, as she's speaking Spanish and I understand Spanish to a degree (except she speaks SPANISH from SPAIN, which sounds one hundred percent different than Mexican and South American Spanish and just makes me want to go to Spain and take a string of European lovers even more), but as I mentioned before, I don't speak Swedish.

So, I continued to watch the movie even though I was pretty sure it wasn't Girl With Hornets Nest Tattoo due to the fact that the lighting is pretty and flattering, and the female lead actually seemed to enjoy most of her life and sex and all. One of her lovers compared her to the horse of the East (?) Wind, who only Ishmael could tame, and then another lover tells her she has issues, and she tells her grandma that she thinks she's a nymphomaniac, and her grandma says that nymphomania is just a concept that men made up to make women feel badly about themselves for enjoying sex, and I love her grandma. Then she dies and the nymph has to make her own way and she ends up in an abusive relationship and then my Roku for some reason broke down at that point and I figured it was for the best and went back to bed anyway.

It was still better than Stieg Larsson's "Men Who Can't Stop Beating The Will To Live Out Of Women."