I'm not sure how we got on the subject, but last night, Lia and I spent a great deal of time talking about emotions. More specifically, my emotional health. It helped me to realize a few things that I don't think I ever realized before.
The last several months, I've noticed an tremendous growth in people asking me whether or not I'm okay. I always thought it was a bit odd. While we all have our moments from day-to-day, I haven't considered myself depressed. So whenever I inquire further, people just tell me that I seem down, or distant, or that I've got things on my mind. There's something about me the last few months that's been apparent to everyone about my emotional state, except me. And I honestly can't remember the last time I've felt truly honest-to-God "happy" for more than a day at a time. Not happy, but not sad either... I guess that leaves me somewhere in the middle.
I feel like I've spent every day of my life waiting for "the next step." When I was in High School, I was waiting for College. In College I was waiting for a career in graphic design, and now I'm waiting for whatever's after that (whether it's dog-training or stock trading or any of the other stuff I've considered.) When I'm dating, I'm waiting for a relationship, and then an engagement, and then marriage. I was waiting for a dog, which I now have, and kids eventually. Even going from dorm to apartment to a house eventually.
I've noticed that I find myself so consumed with the end-game of it all, that I'm missing the journey along the way. I had always heard that expressed over the years, but I never thought I'd be the person who'd actually have that problem. I used to appreciate the little things, and I don't anymore. I could sit in the grass under a tree and enjoy a nice day and be happy, or sit at my old aquarium and watch the fish swim around and feel tranquil. I can't do that anymore. I always feel like I "should be doing something." And again, I'd like to reiterate that I'm not sad, because everyone seems to think that I am when I write a blog like this. I just feel dull. I feel like the world around me, and life in general has lost its flavor. I feel like nothing is exciting anymore. Like I'm seeing the world around me in shades of gray. That sounds corny, but I can't think of any other way to describe it.
Lia is amazing. We have an awesome home that I'm very fond of. I have a stable job that pays me well that I don't mind going to everyday. I have a network of very close friends who I can go to about any topic. I have a wonderful family who's very good to me. We even have an extremely well behaved puppy that loves us very much. I have every reason in the world to BE happy. But somehow, I'm just not happy. Content, perhaps. Apathetic and jaded, but certainly not sad.
So we discussed my personality as though it were its own separate entity for a little while. I think that the type of personality that I have is that of an Explorer. And I think that what's happening to me is that I feel like there's nothing left for me to explore. Of course, I realize that's not true. But my next steps are getting a house, getting engaged, and getting my dog training certification. I've made a long journey, like all of us have, but I feel like house and marriage and kids is where it stops. Obviously, I know that it doesn't, but I just feel like there's no new territory after that point. Nothing left to explore.
I've become painfully aware in the last year and a half or so that I need more adventure in my life. I think that's really what it boils down to. I want to go places I've never been before. See things I've never seen before. I want to say to myself "yesterday I had no idea that I would be standing here in this place right now." I think that's one of the reasons that I've taken such a liking to geocaching. It puts me in places I never thought I'd be. I want to go to new restaurants. I want to travel. I want to go outside because nature is always changing. I want to go everywhere that it's possible to go. I want to learn new things and meet new people. But then that raises a couple more problems. First of all, money. Money is a big one. But secondly, and more importantly, is that I don't feel like having any of these experiences is anywhere near as fulfilling without having a companion along the way. I want to make more memories. I want to be able to share the things in my life that I find fascinating with another human being. And I can't ever fully express that feeling to another person without them being there too.
Maybe what it really comes down to is that I miss having other people at my side, no matter what I'm up to or how little time I have to hang out. I miss people just "dropping by." Or saying "Hey, we're all doing such-and-such tonight. Wanna come?" But in the absence of all that, I've gotta learn how to keep myself happy without other people. Every activity that I used to enjoy is difficult for me to find myself being happy about doing.
Even reaching the end of this writing, I'm not sure where it leaves me. I'm trying to devise a list of things that I would like to do more frequently. Something that will let me spend more time with people, and/or fulfill my thirst for adventure. Something that will make life seem a little less gray.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Dodging Bullets
Moving was an unbelievable pain. Of course, there are moving stories. Our lives are never complete without a few days worth of wondering "who else does this happen to?"
Saturday morning started with me pulling something in my back, which was fun to nurse all day while carrying heavy boxes. We were also out one car for the move because Lia's car suddenly wouldn't shift out of park, so she had to call AAA to get her to the mechanic, and that repair will cost her about $150. Cable install took about 3 hours and the cable guy had to call for backup and his supervisor said this was the most difficult assignment he's had in his 6 years on the job. Since our duplex is in a historical house that is over 100 years old, it was sided with some weird slate tile stuff that they don't make anymore. One of the cable guys accidentally drilled through an outside wall and it SHATTERED the siding in that area. So the landlords got into an altercation with them. (But the good news is that I don't think we have to pay our install fee.)
Then in the last HOUR we were cleaning out the old place, the kitchen sink started belching up icky black stuff and we can't get it to drain anymore. We plunged it, we used Draino, we tried everything. Still won’t drain. Of course, this would happen on our last hour.
And now comes the pinnacle of our stupid decisions. In fact, this might be one of the stupidest decisions we've EVER made. You ready for this?
Remember that duplex that we pulled out of at the beginning of the month? (Go back and read about it, if you don't.) We’re still waiting to get the other half of our security deposit back. So we called Wendi and she gave us a sob story about how nobody’s calling about the place, and she’s so poor because it’s not rented that they’re going to have to declare bankruptcy and that if it’s not rented by July 15th they’ll have to keep our deposit. She’s offered it to three people and they’ve all turned her down and was talking about how she’s computer illiterate so she's not trying to blow us off because she wouldn't be able to get Lia's number out of her phone if she tried. So then Lia looks at me after the phone call and says “I’ve got a crazy idea. Since she said she’s computer illiterate, why don’t we put it up on Craigslist with her phone number?” So I remarked that this is one of those situations where everybody wins. They’d get a lot more interest considering that they’ve got more advertising than the one sign outside. We’d get our security deposit back. They’re out of debt. Everybody wins. What on earth were we thinking?
So we made an ad. And it was a good ad. Pictures and everything. It was late at night by the time we decided to do this, and it sounds like a really stupid idea now, but it sounded great at 11 pm when our brains were mush from the stress of moving. We were going to call Wendi back in the morning and see if she wanted it edited or taken down or what-have-you. Well, then the next morning came. And we forgot, because we were too busy tripping over boxes and forgetting that it was trash day. Oopsies.
An email from Lia comes in at some point during the work day, saying that Wendi’s called her like 5 times without leaving a message. Lia called her back and Wendi told her that her niece found the ad online and thought it was horrible, and that she had been getting calls from “riff-raff” all day. Lia told her that we were just trying to help, and that she erased it. Wendi told her the police have been contacted.
I finally got in touch with Wendi after playing phone tag for a while. I told her that I was a little confused about what was going on because Lia wasn’t available to call since she was working. So Wendi told me her side of the story, which was basically just that she started getting a terrifying amount of calls, and people started stopping into the house when she was alone there and texting her and all that kind of stuff, and that people were just offering to take it over the phone without even seeing the place. Sounds like a lot of sketchy activity. She called Craigslist and they did some research and found out that Lia had posted the ad, and so Wendi filed a complaint. So then I told her OUR side of the story and how it sounded like a situation where everybody wins and we were just trying to help. I also apologized profusely.
I’ve noticed when talking to Wendi, it’s not a conversation as much as it is that she’s talking at you, so this whole bit is her just “talking at me.” She scolded me (seriously, like in a “mom voice” and everything) and said that the reason she doesn’t have anything posted online is because she’s very picky about who she rents to and the kind of people who just see it online are lazy because they aren’t putting forth the effort to drive around, and she doesn’t think that they will take care of the place like they did. She complained about how she’s really trying and she’s in a really rough spot because before this all happened they had just put their house up for sale, so they’re broke because they wouldn't have done that if they knew we weren't going to be renting and she doesn’t feel like we are appreciating all of her hard work trying to get this rented. She said again that she has a legal right to the security deposit money because they never gave us receipts so it’s our word against hers, though since we wrote “security deposit” on our checks, it could be implied in the court room as our intent to rent, and then it wouldn’t matter whether or not we signed the lease because that still counts as some kind of a verbal contract. She said most landlords wouldn’t even have given half of it back. Then she told me how she feels like she’s being very fair with this entire process and she’s pissed that we've brought up legal action about the security deposit on more than one occasion.
I told her that I know she’s been putting in the hard-work because this sucks for all of us. I reiterated that we were just trying to help and we came to the agreement that she won’t press charges for this as long as we stop bringing up the legality of whether or not she's entitled to our money without a signed lease. She said she’s still going to try and get us our money back if it’s rented by July 15th, but she can’t make any promises that that’ll happen. After that, it’ll depend what’s going on with their money situation because of the home sale and everything. I made a suggestion for a location for her to move the For Rent sign, because it was in a place that I don’t think it was able to be seen very well, and she said she would move it immediately. I thanked her for all her hard work, which she said she appreciates, and she said she’d be in touch if it gets rented or July 15th comes. At least it ended on a better note.
I do not think the "police" had really been contacted. I think she meant that the Craigslist people had been contacted.
Live and learn, kids. Whenever you have a important decision that needs to be made, sleep on it. Ask people's permission BEFORE trying to help them, not afterwards, because they might not appreciate it. The best of intentions have often led to worst results. And the best way to handle conflicts is with peaceful resolution, not shaking your fist over your head.
Saturday morning started with me pulling something in my back, which was fun to nurse all day while carrying heavy boxes. We were also out one car for the move because Lia's car suddenly wouldn't shift out of park, so she had to call AAA to get her to the mechanic, and that repair will cost her about $150. Cable install took about 3 hours and the cable guy had to call for backup and his supervisor said this was the most difficult assignment he's had in his 6 years on the job. Since our duplex is in a historical house that is over 100 years old, it was sided with some weird slate tile stuff that they don't make anymore. One of the cable guys accidentally drilled through an outside wall and it SHATTERED the siding in that area. So the landlords got into an altercation with them. (But the good news is that I don't think we have to pay our install fee.)
Then in the last HOUR we were cleaning out the old place, the kitchen sink started belching up icky black stuff and we can't get it to drain anymore. We plunged it, we used Draino, we tried everything. Still won’t drain. Of course, this would happen on our last hour.
And now comes the pinnacle of our stupid decisions. In fact, this might be one of the stupidest decisions we've EVER made. You ready for this?
Remember that duplex that we pulled out of at the beginning of the month? (Go back and read about it, if you don't.) We’re still waiting to get the other half of our security deposit back. So we called Wendi and she gave us a sob story about how nobody’s calling about the place, and she’s so poor because it’s not rented that they’re going to have to declare bankruptcy and that if it’s not rented by July 15th they’ll have to keep our deposit. She’s offered it to three people and they’ve all turned her down and was talking about how she’s computer illiterate so she's not trying to blow us off because she wouldn't be able to get Lia's number out of her phone if she tried. So then Lia looks at me after the phone call and says “I’ve got a crazy idea. Since she said she’s computer illiterate, why don’t we put it up on Craigslist with her phone number?” So I remarked that this is one of those situations where everybody wins. They’d get a lot more interest considering that they’ve got more advertising than the one sign outside. We’d get our security deposit back. They’re out of debt. Everybody wins. What on earth were we thinking?
So we made an ad. And it was a good ad. Pictures and everything. It was late at night by the time we decided to do this, and it sounds like a really stupid idea now, but it sounded great at 11 pm when our brains were mush from the stress of moving. We were going to call Wendi back in the morning and see if she wanted it edited or taken down or what-have-you. Well, then the next morning came. And we forgot, because we were too busy tripping over boxes and forgetting that it was trash day. Oopsies.
An email from Lia comes in at some point during the work day, saying that Wendi’s called her like 5 times without leaving a message. Lia called her back and Wendi told her that her niece found the ad online and thought it was horrible, and that she had been getting calls from “riff-raff” all day. Lia told her that we were just trying to help, and that she erased it. Wendi told her the police have been contacted.
I finally got in touch with Wendi after playing phone tag for a while. I told her that I was a little confused about what was going on because Lia wasn’t available to call since she was working. So Wendi told me her side of the story, which was basically just that she started getting a terrifying amount of calls, and people started stopping into the house when she was alone there and texting her and all that kind of stuff, and that people were just offering to take it over the phone without even seeing the place. Sounds like a lot of sketchy activity. She called Craigslist and they did some research and found out that Lia had posted the ad, and so Wendi filed a complaint. So then I told her OUR side of the story and how it sounded like a situation where everybody wins and we were just trying to help. I also apologized profusely.
I’ve noticed when talking to Wendi, it’s not a conversation as much as it is that she’s talking at you, so this whole bit is her just “talking at me.” She scolded me (seriously, like in a “mom voice” and everything) and said that the reason she doesn’t have anything posted online is because she’s very picky about who she rents to and the kind of people who just see it online are lazy because they aren’t putting forth the effort to drive around, and she doesn’t think that they will take care of the place like they did. She complained about how she’s really trying and she’s in a really rough spot because before this all happened they had just put their house up for sale, so they’re broke because they wouldn't have done that if they knew we weren't going to be renting and she doesn’t feel like we are appreciating all of her hard work trying to get this rented. She said again that she has a legal right to the security deposit money because they never gave us receipts so it’s our word against hers, though since we wrote “security deposit” on our checks, it could be implied in the court room as our intent to rent, and then it wouldn’t matter whether or not we signed the lease because that still counts as some kind of a verbal contract. She said most landlords wouldn’t even have given half of it back. Then she told me how she feels like she’s being very fair with this entire process and she’s pissed that we've brought up legal action about the security deposit on more than one occasion.
I told her that I know she’s been putting in the hard-work because this sucks for all of us. I reiterated that we were just trying to help and we came to the agreement that she won’t press charges for this as long as we stop bringing up the legality of whether or not she's entitled to our money without a signed lease. She said she’s still going to try and get us our money back if it’s rented by July 15th, but she can’t make any promises that that’ll happen. After that, it’ll depend what’s going on with their money situation because of the home sale and everything. I made a suggestion for a location for her to move the For Rent sign, because it was in a place that I don’t think it was able to be seen very well, and she said she would move it immediately. I thanked her for all her hard work, which she said she appreciates, and she said she’d be in touch if it gets rented or July 15th comes. At least it ended on a better note.
I do not think the "police" had really been contacted. I think she meant that the Craigslist people had been contacted.
Live and learn, kids. Whenever you have a important decision that needs to be made, sleep on it. Ask people's permission BEFORE trying to help them, not afterwards, because they might not appreciate it. The best of intentions have often led to worst results. And the best way to handle conflicts is with peaceful resolution, not shaking your fist over your head.
Monday, June 14, 2010
My Sunshine and Rain
I spent yesterday alone.
While not quite rainy, the world through my windows was overcast and gloomy. On days like that, I tend to find myself acting quite a bit different than I usually would. Everything seems so much more significant when there's nobody watching, because it feels like the burden falls on me to make things happen. I realize that's ridiculous, but my awareness ends on the outskirts of my field of vision. Without anyone else around within that sphere to have an impact on the world around me, the world around me doesn't change. I often find myself just getting up and walking from room to room, sitting quietly and watching the world go by outside the windows, sometimes intentionally tapping on walls or furniture so that my environment doesn't linger in silence for too long. When I read that sentence over again to myself, it makes me sound like a crazy person. I used to enjoy having some time to myself, but sometimes it's strange how things imprint on you.
There was a span of a couple of months where I lived in what felt like total solitude. My closest non-work friend lived forty-five minutes away and the landlord wouldn't let me out of the lease after my roommate moved out. With my horribly underpaid wages, paying for the entire lease by myself, and gas being $4 a gallon at the time, I couldn't even drive out to see anyone without having to forego something important, like food. As a result of some pretty sudden and significant life changes, I was overcome with constant feelings of depression, inadequacy, and the more than anything, neglect.
When I looked out my window there, you couldn't see any sign of human civilization, all the way to the horizon. Just nature. I woke up every morning and went to sleep every night feeling like there was nobody else in the entire world, but me. Try to imagine, for a moment, what that feels like. You look out your window in most other places and you see other buildings or cars or people. Even seeing other people going on with their lives would have been a comfort. Somehow, even a passerby making eye contact with your building is a good validation that you exist in some form, or somehow matter to somebody. But when I looked out, I knew for certain that no one was looking back. And nobody ever would be. It's one thing to experience this for a few days, but four months really begins to have an adverse affect. At some point, it starts playing tricks on you, and makes you think illogical things. It makes you feel like nothing you do matters to anybody, and in many ways it doesn't, in that situation. I could have gotten in my car and left for weeks at a time, and other than my coworkers, not a soul would have known I was gone. Even when explaining my feelings to people, I don't think they ever truly understand how devastating it felt. It rained a lot that year. That's what I remember the most.
Days like yesterday remind me of that time. It calls up all those odd phobias and neuroses that make me feel a little lonely again. At one point, they were techniques I developed for emotional survival; small steps I could take to keep the loneliness at bay. Maybe that does make me a little crazy, I don't know anymore. And really, it's not the point anyway. I guess at the end of the day, it all boils down to appreciation. I don't feel alone anymore. I have a supportive network of friends who are always there for me and who are well within immediate driving distance. Some of which would probably drop everything if they knew I wasn't doing anything. And most of all, I have Lia. She's been such a positive influence in my life these past thirteen months. I have so much now that I didn't have back then, and I'm so thankful to have it.
Eventually, it did start to rain yesterday evening. For me, a reminder of those dark times. I decided to go out and buy her favorite flowers, and when she called to let me know she was coming home, I sat on the stairs with them, waiting for her to come home so I could surprise her. It was the least I could do.
While not quite rainy, the world through my windows was overcast and gloomy. On days like that, I tend to find myself acting quite a bit different than I usually would. Everything seems so much more significant when there's nobody watching, because it feels like the burden falls on me to make things happen. I realize that's ridiculous, but my awareness ends on the outskirts of my field of vision. Without anyone else around within that sphere to have an impact on the world around me, the world around me doesn't change. I often find myself just getting up and walking from room to room, sitting quietly and watching the world go by outside the windows, sometimes intentionally tapping on walls or furniture so that my environment doesn't linger in silence for too long. When I read that sentence over again to myself, it makes me sound like a crazy person. I used to enjoy having some time to myself, but sometimes it's strange how things imprint on you.
There was a span of a couple of months where I lived in what felt like total solitude. My closest non-work friend lived forty-five minutes away and the landlord wouldn't let me out of the lease after my roommate moved out. With my horribly underpaid wages, paying for the entire lease by myself, and gas being $4 a gallon at the time, I couldn't even drive out to see anyone without having to forego something important, like food. As a result of some pretty sudden and significant life changes, I was overcome with constant feelings of depression, inadequacy, and the more than anything, neglect.
When I looked out my window there, you couldn't see any sign of human civilization, all the way to the horizon. Just nature. I woke up every morning and went to sleep every night feeling like there was nobody else in the entire world, but me. Try to imagine, for a moment, what that feels like. You look out your window in most other places and you see other buildings or cars or people. Even seeing other people going on with their lives would have been a comfort. Somehow, even a passerby making eye contact with your building is a good validation that you exist in some form, or somehow matter to somebody. But when I looked out, I knew for certain that no one was looking back. And nobody ever would be. It's one thing to experience this for a few days, but four months really begins to have an adverse affect. At some point, it starts playing tricks on you, and makes you think illogical things. It makes you feel like nothing you do matters to anybody, and in many ways it doesn't, in that situation. I could have gotten in my car and left for weeks at a time, and other than my coworkers, not a soul would have known I was gone. Even when explaining my feelings to people, I don't think they ever truly understand how devastating it felt. It rained a lot that year. That's what I remember the most.
Days like yesterday remind me of that time. It calls up all those odd phobias and neuroses that make me feel a little lonely again. At one point, they were techniques I developed for emotional survival; small steps I could take to keep the loneliness at bay. Maybe that does make me a little crazy, I don't know anymore. And really, it's not the point anyway. I guess at the end of the day, it all boils down to appreciation. I don't feel alone anymore. I have a supportive network of friends who are always there for me and who are well within immediate driving distance. Some of which would probably drop everything if they knew I wasn't doing anything. And most of all, I have Lia. She's been such a positive influence in my life these past thirteen months. I have so much now that I didn't have back then, and I'm so thankful to have it.
Eventually, it did start to rain yesterday evening. For me, a reminder of those dark times. I decided to go out and buy her favorite flowers, and when she called to let me know she was coming home, I sat on the stairs with them, waiting for her to come home so I could surprise her. It was the least I could do.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Detour
We stopped in at the new duplex last week to bring boxes over, only to find a HUGE puddle in the basement and lots of water damage on the basement ceiling. Lia and I made a list of a bunch of other stuff that needed to be fixed before we move in. The fridge was leaking, ceiling tiles in the basement were caved in, the tube that connects to the washer/dryer is apparently not up to code because it's one of those flexi-duct things instead of a solid pipe. The previous tenants left a whole bunch of crap there (including a full litterbox) and a bunch of other crap in the basement. A lot of the walls need to be completely repainted, which we didn't notice the first time through because the previous tenants still had all their decorations up. And there was still no evidence that they were planning on putting in a dishwasher, which was a dealbreaker for us.
So, after puttering around in there for a while and taking measurements, we walked out the front door and were looking around the yard. The neighbor who would be living next-door to us came out and we introduced ourselves. The FIRST THING she said to us, was asking if there was water in the basement. We told her that there was quite a bit, and she said that this had been an on-going problem for at least three months. She's called the landlords over, and over, and over, and they refuse to do anything about it. The landlord had hired a couple of "fly-by-nights" (her words) to come and fix the gutters a couple of months ago and they made the problem worse. The landlords won't get it fixed unless they can get the same guys to come back and fix it, which they won't. She described the water pouring into her basement as "a waterfall" and said this has been going on this entire time.
Back-up, now. When we first toured the place, they had responded to our phone calls almost immediately. The tour was set up quickly, their offer to give us the place was quick, and our response was also quick. They said our next step was to sign the lease and give them our security deposit. After not hearing anything for like a week, and leaving repeated phone calls to try and set up a meeting to do this, they called Lia back to have her bring our security deposit to Wendi (the wife's) workplace. My memory's a little fuzzy here, but if I recall, she had apologized because some family member is in the hospital so she's been really busy, and she forgot the forms. Lia gave her our security deposit because they said they need someone in there immediately or else they would have to find someone else.
We continued to call to get the lease signed because it had been freaking us out a little to not have it in writing that we're renting it. We didn't think that they were going to suddenly rent it to someone else, but it was still making us a little nervous because this whole process has been HIGHLY abnormal. One day, Wendi called to inform us that she was leaving the keys and the forms at the property, and that we'd have to stop in and pick them up from the current tenant before he moves. We each tried stopping in over and over and the current tenants were never home so we couldn't pick anything up. Lia finally managed to get in and get the keys, but the forms weren't a lease or anything, just a rental application.
After literally WEEKS of not receiving feedback from the new landlords, along with the testimonial of the woman next door, the whole thing was just very weird to us and we were quite concerned last friday. We left her a message with all the stuff that needs to be fixed or installed before we sign the lease. We gave them all a couple days to respond, and we hadn't heard anything.
No lease was signed, no applications were filled out, and popular consensus was that we should BAIL as soon as possible. The only real collateral is that we had keys to the place and she had our security deposit checks already cashed. We decided that's what we were going to do. We tried getting in touch with Wendi three times that night, and even left her a message saying that we were pulling the plug and wanted our security deposit back. It's just a very worrisome pattern of behavior and we don't think we should have to deal with that if we can still get out.
The next morning, Lia tried calling her again. Wendi claimed she never got any of our messages that were telling her to call us and that we were backing out. Lia reiterated that we want out. Then Wendi started screaming at Lia, yelling things like "I'm the best landlord ever! How dare you not trust me! I'm a Christian so you know you can trust me, because that's my identity, but I'm going to keep your security deposit anyway!" and all this crazy bullshit. It was on speaker, so I could hear too. It was pretty intense. So she got her husband on the phone, who was much more calm, and we talked them into giving us half the security deposit back (which we have in our possession right now.) If they can get a renter in the next two weeks, they'll give us the other half. We exchanged the first half of the rent for the keys. We're prepared to just eat the cost of the second half if we need to.
We looked at a couple of other places. Most of them were "meh." One of them really stood out to us, and we really liked it, and we are honestly having trouble finding any flaws with it. The only issue we had was that it was listed at our limit that we set for what we could afford, but she is willing to drop the rent by like $50 a month for us! That actually puts it at the BOTTOM of our price range! Newly repainted, nice floors, brand new energy efficient windows, awesome deck and yard, new appliances, has it's own washer and dryer and dishwasher, huge bathroom (with a blue toilet!), one balcony and an extensive upper porch, lots of square footage, lots of closet space, they allow dogs and have two quiet ones downstairs, lots of windows and natural light, etc. We put in our applications yesterday. It's vacant right now, so she said we would be able to move in as soon as we'd like to. The landlords live downstairs and it's a couple in probably their late 20's. It's actually a three-floor house. We would be on the second floor. They said they turned the 3rd floor into their own personal movie theater, so maybe if we become friends we would get to use it too.
Provided we take the place of course, but we both really like it a LOT. We're trying to not be over-zealous though, because apparently that gets us into trouble. We're going to take a second walk-through either way to make sure. I'm sure I'll have an update on this soon.
So, after puttering around in there for a while and taking measurements, we walked out the front door and were looking around the yard. The neighbor who would be living next-door to us came out and we introduced ourselves. The FIRST THING she said to us, was asking if there was water in the basement. We told her that there was quite a bit, and she said that this had been an on-going problem for at least three months. She's called the landlords over, and over, and over, and they refuse to do anything about it. The landlord had hired a couple of "fly-by-nights" (her words) to come and fix the gutters a couple of months ago and they made the problem worse. The landlords won't get it fixed unless they can get the same guys to come back and fix it, which they won't. She described the water pouring into her basement as "a waterfall" and said this has been going on this entire time.
Back-up, now. When we first toured the place, they had responded to our phone calls almost immediately. The tour was set up quickly, their offer to give us the place was quick, and our response was also quick. They said our next step was to sign the lease and give them our security deposit. After not hearing anything for like a week, and leaving repeated phone calls to try and set up a meeting to do this, they called Lia back to have her bring our security deposit to Wendi (the wife's) workplace. My memory's a little fuzzy here, but if I recall, she had apologized because some family member is in the hospital so she's been really busy, and she forgot the forms. Lia gave her our security deposit because they said they need someone in there immediately or else they would have to find someone else.
We continued to call to get the lease signed because it had been freaking us out a little to not have it in writing that we're renting it. We didn't think that they were going to suddenly rent it to someone else, but it was still making us a little nervous because this whole process has been HIGHLY abnormal. One day, Wendi called to inform us that she was leaving the keys and the forms at the property, and that we'd have to stop in and pick them up from the current tenant before he moves. We each tried stopping in over and over and the current tenants were never home so we couldn't pick anything up. Lia finally managed to get in and get the keys, but the forms weren't a lease or anything, just a rental application.
After literally WEEKS of not receiving feedback from the new landlords, along with the testimonial of the woman next door, the whole thing was just very weird to us and we were quite concerned last friday. We left her a message with all the stuff that needs to be fixed or installed before we sign the lease. We gave them all a couple days to respond, and we hadn't heard anything.
No lease was signed, no applications were filled out, and popular consensus was that we should BAIL as soon as possible. The only real collateral is that we had keys to the place and she had our security deposit checks already cashed. We decided that's what we were going to do. We tried getting in touch with Wendi three times that night, and even left her a message saying that we were pulling the plug and wanted our security deposit back. It's just a very worrisome pattern of behavior and we don't think we should have to deal with that if we can still get out.
The next morning, Lia tried calling her again. Wendi claimed she never got any of our messages that were telling her to call us and that we were backing out. Lia reiterated that we want out. Then Wendi started screaming at Lia, yelling things like "I'm the best landlord ever! How dare you not trust me! I'm a Christian so you know you can trust me, because that's my identity, but I'm going to keep your security deposit anyway!" and all this crazy bullshit. It was on speaker, so I could hear too. It was pretty intense. So she got her husband on the phone, who was much more calm, and we talked them into giving us half the security deposit back (which we have in our possession right now.) If they can get a renter in the next two weeks, they'll give us the other half. We exchanged the first half of the rent for the keys. We're prepared to just eat the cost of the second half if we need to.
We looked at a couple of other places. Most of them were "meh." One of them really stood out to us, and we really liked it, and we are honestly having trouble finding any flaws with it. The only issue we had was that it was listed at our limit that we set for what we could afford, but she is willing to drop the rent by like $50 a month for us! That actually puts it at the BOTTOM of our price range! Newly repainted, nice floors, brand new energy efficient windows, awesome deck and yard, new appliances, has it's own washer and dryer and dishwasher, huge bathroom (with a blue toilet!), one balcony and an extensive upper porch, lots of square footage, lots of closet space, they allow dogs and have two quiet ones downstairs, lots of windows and natural light, etc. We put in our applications yesterday. It's vacant right now, so she said we would be able to move in as soon as we'd like to. The landlords live downstairs and it's a couple in probably their late 20's. It's actually a three-floor house. We would be on the second floor. They said they turned the 3rd floor into their own personal movie theater, so maybe if we become friends we would get to use it too.
Provided we take the place of course, but we both really like it a LOT. We're trying to not be over-zealous though, because apparently that gets us into trouble. We're going to take a second walk-through either way to make sure. I'm sure I'll have an update on this soon.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Empty Spaces
Well, it’s official now. Yesterday at 4 pm, the duplex we’re living in was signed over to the new owner. Only a few short hours later, I could already smell the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke leaking upstairs. I still don’t know anything about this man, other than he’s a smoker and when he spoke to us seems to be kind of a loony. Hell, I don’t even remember his name, so I’ve just been referring to him as “Smoky.” There hasn’t been any moving of furniture going on between then and now, yet he clearly spent the night in the downstairs of the duplex. I don’t know on what furniture he spent it, so maybe he just curled up in a sleeping bag. It was easy to hear footsteps walking around downstairs, the droning mechanical noises of household items being turned on that hadn’t been turned on since February, and the more obvious yawns and laughs and smells that come along with having a downstairs neighbor.
I can’t exactly figure out why, but I’m having trouble convincing my instincts that this man is not an adversary. I feel very defensive about him having a key to our place and the ability to know when nobody’s home and I feel very anxious about having to communicate with him day-to-day. I keep telling myself it’s alright, but I just can’t shake that feeling that he’s an “opponent” somehow and I’m developing a kind of brooding contempt for him. It’s very unsettling, since this is an emotion I don’t feel very often.
My last few weeks at work have been a massive challenge for me. Each project involves me spending several weeks creating it, then it gets sent out to the other departments for a while, and then returns to me to put the finishing touches on it. I started almost two years ago and the projects are all supposed to be done with a little more than two years from now. So for the entire month of May, I’ve had the perfect blend of new stuff that I’m still building and old stuff that’s in the process of coming back to me to fix. It’s a very stressful feeling to finish one thing only to discover that three more have come back from out of nowhere. By the time I finish those, I have even more.
The good news, though, is that Lia and I have found a new place to live. Due to a conflict that arose when giving our notice, we find ourselves having the entire month of June as an overlap to move into the new place. I would like to get another look at the place before I go about describing it. Further details will be provided in the future.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Bad Juju
Lia has what she considers a Birthday Curse. Her birthdays are generally forgotten or filled instead with the selfish-intent of the provider, leading her to develop a lot of misgivings surrounding her special day. Being the first of her birthdays I have known her for, I have been determined to break this cycle. The weekend prior, I took her out for breakfast, planned on going to the Art Museum (though that was rescheduled), took her to see “Date Night” and have dinner at the cinema grill near Bayshore Mall, and capped the night off with tickets to see Demetri Martin, who has always been one of our favorite comedians. The day was a success.
We had both taken off on her actual birthday, a Wednesday, to head for the Art Museum like we had rescheduled. It was a fun, midweek adventure. Afterwards, we headed home and dealt with picking up my broken car from the mechanic, soon to be followed by dinner at the Olive Garden. We drove separate cars home, during which time she received a happy birthday message from my parents, ending with an ominous summons to have me call them. Meanwhile, I had neglected to answer their call to me, since I hate talking on the phone while I’m driving. The message waited until I arrived back at our residence. I returned their call shortly, only to learn from my father that our family dog, Blaze, had passed away while at the vet that day.
To quote my mother’s explanation: “He had been having heavy panting/breathing as part of his problems lately. It was one of the things we were getting the blood drawn for as a first step. Just that morning at home before we left, he had an episode of that weird breathing and then it settled down. When the tech was there to get blood that breathing started again and he then stopped breathing and collapsed and he was gone immediately. They tried to resuscitate him but it did not help. He never started breathing again.”
Farewell, Blaze. The family just doesn’t feel complete anymore. According to Lia, the Birthday Curse continues.
Two days later, on Friday, our landlord informed us that the duplex we’re living in has been sold! Our leases and security deposit will transfer to the new owner, who will be living downstairs once they close on the property at the end of May. The following Sunday, the new owner came by with the house assessor, while he was measuring our apartment. The new owner talked to Lia and I for about 20 minutes. Notice, I didn’t say that we had a conversation; he “talked at us” that entire time. Hardly stopped to take breaths in between, and every couple of sentences was a new topic about a few other members of his family tree that he just expected us to know somehow. The man was clearly out-of-his-mind. Most notably, though, is the fact that this man absolutely reeked of smoke. Being allergic to smoke, and knowing that we could smell the previous tenants’ cooking every single night, our apartment is going to turn into a 700 square foot smoke-box. Now we’ve got to put our noses to the grindstone in order to find a way out of the apartment before the new guy moves in. Plus, he was fairly creepy and I don’t know how I feel about Lia being there when I’m not home while he’s got keys to the apartment.
The following day was our anniversary. Our first year together! In the morning before I left for work, Lia could feel the first indications of an impending migraine. She insisted it was no big deal, and called in sick to work. A couple hours into my workday, I got an email from a friend that said Lia had been trying to contact me all day without success. Lo-and-behold, my phone was still on silent from the night before, and I now had several missed calls and text messages. I quickly ran outside and returned the phone calls. Lia was currently in the emergency room with her mother. Lia’s migraine had evolved into a numbness pervading large parts of her body, her vision started to recede, and confusion had set in, which made it difficult to even remember phone numbers that she’s known her whole life. Knowing that all of these are symptoms of a stroke, I started to panic, but she and her mom insisted that I don’t leave work to meet them at the hospital. The doctors gave her a CT scan of her head, a couple of IVs and a prescription for Codeine. They’ve determined that she hasn’t had a stroke, but have instead classified it as an “atypical migraine.” Usually, her migraines go away when she takes Benadryl or when she goes to sleep. Since we happened to be out of Benadryl that morning and she had just gotten up, she didn’t have any weapons to combat the migraine with. The hospital’s official conclusion is that this is what all of her migraines would turn into without immediate medication.
In the meantime, I’m considering the merits of chalking this up to a brand new Anniversary Curse. Time will tell.
We had both taken off on her actual birthday, a Wednesday, to head for the Art Museum like we had rescheduled. It was a fun, midweek adventure. Afterwards, we headed home and dealt with picking up my broken car from the mechanic, soon to be followed by dinner at the Olive Garden. We drove separate cars home, during which time she received a happy birthday message from my parents, ending with an ominous summons to have me call them. Meanwhile, I had neglected to answer their call to me, since I hate talking on the phone while I’m driving. The message waited until I arrived back at our residence. I returned their call shortly, only to learn from my father that our family dog, Blaze, had passed away while at the vet that day.
To quote my mother’s explanation: “He had been having heavy panting/breathing as part of his problems lately. It was one of the things we were getting the blood drawn for as a first step. Just that morning at home before we left, he had an episode of that weird breathing and then it settled down. When the tech was there to get blood that breathing started again and he then stopped breathing and collapsed and he was gone immediately. They tried to resuscitate him but it did not help. He never started breathing again.”
Farewell, Blaze. The family just doesn’t feel complete anymore. According to Lia, the Birthday Curse continues.
Two days later, on Friday, our landlord informed us that the duplex we’re living in has been sold! Our leases and security deposit will transfer to the new owner, who will be living downstairs once they close on the property at the end of May. The following Sunday, the new owner came by with the house assessor, while he was measuring our apartment. The new owner talked to Lia and I for about 20 minutes. Notice, I didn’t say that we had a conversation; he “talked at us” that entire time. Hardly stopped to take breaths in between, and every couple of sentences was a new topic about a few other members of his family tree that he just expected us to know somehow. The man was clearly out-of-his-mind. Most notably, though, is the fact that this man absolutely reeked of smoke. Being allergic to smoke, and knowing that we could smell the previous tenants’ cooking every single night, our apartment is going to turn into a 700 square foot smoke-box. Now we’ve got to put our noses to the grindstone in order to find a way out of the apartment before the new guy moves in. Plus, he was fairly creepy and I don’t know how I feel about Lia being there when I’m not home while he’s got keys to the apartment.
The following day was our anniversary. Our first year together! In the morning before I left for work, Lia could feel the first indications of an impending migraine. She insisted it was no big deal, and called in sick to work. A couple hours into my workday, I got an email from a friend that said Lia had been trying to contact me all day without success. Lo-and-behold, my phone was still on silent from the night before, and I now had several missed calls and text messages. I quickly ran outside and returned the phone calls. Lia was currently in the emergency room with her mother. Lia’s migraine had evolved into a numbness pervading large parts of her body, her vision started to recede, and confusion had set in, which made it difficult to even remember phone numbers that she’s known her whole life. Knowing that all of these are symptoms of a stroke, I started to panic, but she and her mom insisted that I don’t leave work to meet them at the hospital. The doctors gave her a CT scan of her head, a couple of IVs and a prescription for Codeine. They’ve determined that she hasn’t had a stroke, but have instead classified it as an “atypical migraine.” Usually, her migraines go away when she takes Benadryl or when she goes to sleep. Since we happened to be out of Benadryl that morning and she had just gotten up, she didn’t have any weapons to combat the migraine with. The hospital’s official conclusion is that this is what all of her migraines would turn into without immediate medication.
In the meantime, I’m considering the merits of chalking this up to a brand new Anniversary Curse. Time will tell.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Still Right Here
I found myself running errands alone a few nights ago. Car after car linked together on the main thoroughfare with the rush of post-workday traffic. Without hurry, I decided to take the winding side roads that lead through the suburbs. The sun barely touched the western horizon, on its inevitable path to recede from my field of vision.
The neighborhood I drove through spanned a few miles of well-kept middle-class homes. Looking out my windows I saw tiny slivers of life that seem to hold very little depth when taken at face-value. It’s like reading the end of a novel before you read the beginning, and being unable to watch the steps it takes for the characters to end up at the finality that the reader is left with. A black lab sitting in his driveway, sullen until he can go back inside. Three young siblings on bikes circling closer to the road with every pass. A younger couple unloading groceries from their jeep into the house. A pair of older men drinking beer on the porch, in the midst of a clearly hilarious conversation. Neighbors doing yard work, exchanging periodic small talk over imaginary divides. Like a stained-glass window, each of these multihued shards come together as bits of the same lifestyle being told many times over; congregating together without any of the players actually realizing it.
Other people’s lives just give me glimpses, but I seek my place in this as well. The most common theme of my life so far has been waiting for domesticity. I long for the moments when girlfriend becomes wife, apartment becomes home, and self becomes family. I want to have a place to call our permanent home and raise kids. I want to have hasty breakfasts together before we realize we’re all late, and leave work early to go to piano recitals. I want to play fetch with the dog and mow the lawn for the hundredth time. I want to sit under a tree with my wife on summer nights to watch the fireflies, and plan elaborate treasure hunts for my kids to find their birthday presents. I want to stand in the front yard watching the storms roll in, and put up the Christmas tree together while the snow covers the ground under the moonlight.
Life’s funny isn’t it? Despite our best-laid plans, it still never seems to turn out how we want. Ever feel like you’re just trapped in circumstance? As time goes on, all these temporary lifestyle changes I’ve been making have become more permanent. This week marks the first time since high school that I’ve lived in one place for a whole year, and soon I’ll be leaving here too. Though I’m not sure exactly where or when, yet. And even then, it’ll just be another temporary place until I can afford a house. I have my own blind faith that those dreams will be fulfilled in the distant future, but at what point do I stop racing against the hands of the clock? At what point do I acknowledge that every time the sun goes down, it feels like it’s beaten me somehow? There’s something to be said about being assertive, but it doesn't seem like assertiveness would fix this. I still need to wait for circumstance to let me be free. I can’t get a house until I know where it needs to be, which I won’t know until I know what’s happening with work, versus dog-training and the stock market, and where Lia will end up working once she graduates. Until then, the days pass, and I guess I just have to be patient.
The neighborhood I drove through spanned a few miles of well-kept middle-class homes. Looking out my windows I saw tiny slivers of life that seem to hold very little depth when taken at face-value. It’s like reading the end of a novel before you read the beginning, and being unable to watch the steps it takes for the characters to end up at the finality that the reader is left with. A black lab sitting in his driveway, sullen until he can go back inside. Three young siblings on bikes circling closer to the road with every pass. A younger couple unloading groceries from their jeep into the house. A pair of older men drinking beer on the porch, in the midst of a clearly hilarious conversation. Neighbors doing yard work, exchanging periodic small talk over imaginary divides. Like a stained-glass window, each of these multihued shards come together as bits of the same lifestyle being told many times over; congregating together without any of the players actually realizing it.
Other people’s lives just give me glimpses, but I seek my place in this as well. The most common theme of my life so far has been waiting for domesticity. I long for the moments when girlfriend becomes wife, apartment becomes home, and self becomes family. I want to have a place to call our permanent home and raise kids. I want to have hasty breakfasts together before we realize we’re all late, and leave work early to go to piano recitals. I want to play fetch with the dog and mow the lawn for the hundredth time. I want to sit under a tree with my wife on summer nights to watch the fireflies, and plan elaborate treasure hunts for my kids to find their birthday presents. I want to stand in the front yard watching the storms roll in, and put up the Christmas tree together while the snow covers the ground under the moonlight.
Life’s funny isn’t it? Despite our best-laid plans, it still never seems to turn out how we want. Ever feel like you’re just trapped in circumstance? As time goes on, all these temporary lifestyle changes I’ve been making have become more permanent. This week marks the first time since high school that I’ve lived in one place for a whole year, and soon I’ll be leaving here too. Though I’m not sure exactly where or when, yet. And even then, it’ll just be another temporary place until I can afford a house. I have my own blind faith that those dreams will be fulfilled in the distant future, but at what point do I stop racing against the hands of the clock? At what point do I acknowledge that every time the sun goes down, it feels like it’s beaten me somehow? There’s something to be said about being assertive, but it doesn't seem like assertiveness would fix this. I still need to wait for circumstance to let me be free. I can’t get a house until I know where it needs to be, which I won’t know until I know what’s happening with work, versus dog-training and the stock market, and where Lia will end up working once she graduates. Until then, the days pass, and I guess I just have to be patient.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Dog-Training Frustration
At this point, I am about half-way through my dog-training curriculum, and the further I get, the more I’m starting to realize that I think most of the learning is going to be the hands-on stuff at the end.
I’ve gone up to work with PJ’s dog twice now. The first session was an amazing success. The most important thing to teach at the outset of training is the food lure exercise, where you train the dog to follow a treat that’s concealed in your hand. All the other training from this point requires the trainer to food-lure the dog into the various positions needed (sit, heel, etc.) Maverick picked it up pretty quickly and within probably 15-20 minutes I could get him to keep his nose against my hand while I walked around PJ’s house. I taught the exercise to PJ as well so that he could keep up the practice while I was gone.
The second session was quite a bit more disappointing. When I arrived at PJ’s, we sat and chatted for a while before I actually began the training. During this time, Mav was at the back door, making it clear that he had to go out. PJ obliged, and after a couple minutes went back to let him in again. But Mav was gone! The metal part of his chain that attaches to his collar had bent, which let his collar unhook and he had bolted out into the countryside. We tracked him down after looking for about a half-hour, but once we got him back inside, all three of us were exhausted.
My lesson was teaching him the Focus cue, where I get him in the heel position (at my left side) and looking up into my eyes, presumably waiting for my next command. Once I have another command to give, at least. The heel position was near impossible to get him in. I could get him to circle around me and face me, but not sit at my side facing forward while looking up. Even with the food lure, no real progress. After trying that for a while with little success, I attempted to just teach him Focus from sitting in front of me and facing me. The way I was instructing this is as follows: I would get a treat, show it to Mav, and hold it next to my face. I say “focus” and I wait for him to look at my eyes instead of gazing longingly at the treat. As soon as he makes eye-contact with me, I give him the treat and praise him. In theory, he will learn that he gets rewarded only when he looks at my eyes, instead of at the treat, and at that point he will start associating the word “focus” with paying attention to me. However, he was just not picking it up. Looking back now, (after finishing the chapter) there were a few things wrong with the technique I used.
First of all, showing Mav the treat first constitutes a bribe, instead of a reward. The difference being that if I show him the treat first, once he figures out what a cue means he will ONLY give the cue if he knows he’s being rewarded, instead of letting it become natural to him.
Second, both Mav and I were absolutely exhausted after his little romp so he probably just wanted to sleep. He continued to the rest of the day.
Third, when you’re teaching a dog a new command, you are NEVER supposed to repeat it. If the dog doesn’t comply and you repeat the command, it gradually shows the dog that the command has no meaning, since they got away with not having to do anything. Eventually, they will just tune you out because you’re not following through. There were a couple of times when I ended up repeating the command.
Fourth, timing has to be PERFECT. Dogs associate whatever’s happening at the EXACT TIME the reward or punishment is given with a behavior. If he makes eye-contact and I go to reward him, he’s usually focused his attention back on the treat by the time my hand goes to feed him. This is also why dogs who get physical corrections (like getting hit or pushed) by their owners never seem to learn that what they’re doing is incorrect. Aside from the fact that it’s just cruel, instead of associating the fact that they peed on the floor four hours ago with the punishment, they associate the punishment with the approach of a person. In essence, they learn that people are bad and are threats to their safety, which makes the dog fearful and/or aggressive, which can pose a danger to anyone in the home. See how that links together? Anyway, that’s way off topic.
My other main concern is that PJ’s so far away. About an hour/hour and a half drive, meaning that I don’t always have the time or ability to travel that far for training. Dog training is one of those things where consistency and daily lessons are required and I can usually only get up there once a week at most. My worry here is that Mav is going to forget some of his training unless I keep teaching PJ how to do it every practice session.
I’m heading up there again tomorrow, so I’m hoping that this lesson runs a bit smoother.
I’ve gone up to work with PJ’s dog twice now. The first session was an amazing success. The most important thing to teach at the outset of training is the food lure exercise, where you train the dog to follow a treat that’s concealed in your hand. All the other training from this point requires the trainer to food-lure the dog into the various positions needed (sit, heel, etc.) Maverick picked it up pretty quickly and within probably 15-20 minutes I could get him to keep his nose against my hand while I walked around PJ’s house. I taught the exercise to PJ as well so that he could keep up the practice while I was gone.
The second session was quite a bit more disappointing. When I arrived at PJ’s, we sat and chatted for a while before I actually began the training. During this time, Mav was at the back door, making it clear that he had to go out. PJ obliged, and after a couple minutes went back to let him in again. But Mav was gone! The metal part of his chain that attaches to his collar had bent, which let his collar unhook and he had bolted out into the countryside. We tracked him down after looking for about a half-hour, but once we got him back inside, all three of us were exhausted.
My lesson was teaching him the Focus cue, where I get him in the heel position (at my left side) and looking up into my eyes, presumably waiting for my next command. Once I have another command to give, at least. The heel position was near impossible to get him in. I could get him to circle around me and face me, but not sit at my side facing forward while looking up. Even with the food lure, no real progress. After trying that for a while with little success, I attempted to just teach him Focus from sitting in front of me and facing me. The way I was instructing this is as follows: I would get a treat, show it to Mav, and hold it next to my face. I say “focus” and I wait for him to look at my eyes instead of gazing longingly at the treat. As soon as he makes eye-contact with me, I give him the treat and praise him. In theory, he will learn that he gets rewarded only when he looks at my eyes, instead of at the treat, and at that point he will start associating the word “focus” with paying attention to me. However, he was just not picking it up. Looking back now, (after finishing the chapter) there were a few things wrong with the technique I used.
First of all, showing Mav the treat first constitutes a bribe, instead of a reward. The difference being that if I show him the treat first, once he figures out what a cue means he will ONLY give the cue if he knows he’s being rewarded, instead of letting it become natural to him.
Second, both Mav and I were absolutely exhausted after his little romp so he probably just wanted to sleep. He continued to the rest of the day.
Third, when you’re teaching a dog a new command, you are NEVER supposed to repeat it. If the dog doesn’t comply and you repeat the command, it gradually shows the dog that the command has no meaning, since they got away with not having to do anything. Eventually, they will just tune you out because you’re not following through. There were a couple of times when I ended up repeating the command.
Fourth, timing has to be PERFECT. Dogs associate whatever’s happening at the EXACT TIME the reward or punishment is given with a behavior. If he makes eye-contact and I go to reward him, he’s usually focused his attention back on the treat by the time my hand goes to feed him. This is also why dogs who get physical corrections (like getting hit or pushed) by their owners never seem to learn that what they’re doing is incorrect. Aside from the fact that it’s just cruel, instead of associating the fact that they peed on the floor four hours ago with the punishment, they associate the punishment with the approach of a person. In essence, they learn that people are bad and are threats to their safety, which makes the dog fearful and/or aggressive, which can pose a danger to anyone in the home. See how that links together? Anyway, that’s way off topic.
My other main concern is that PJ’s so far away. About an hour/hour and a half drive, meaning that I don’t always have the time or ability to travel that far for training. Dog training is one of those things where consistency and daily lessons are required and I can usually only get up there once a week at most. My worry here is that Mav is going to forget some of his training unless I keep teaching PJ how to do it every practice session.
I’m heading up there again tomorrow, so I’m hoping that this lesson runs a bit smoother.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Memento Mori
I dreamed last night that I was dying. A morbid thought, I realize.
I was in a hospital with blue walls; sunny outside but I couldn't see through the windows. A ventilator next to the bed was breathing for me. Fully conscious I laid there, yet unable to move. My joints felt rusty and unused while I listened only to the sound of the machines in the room being drowned out by my new artificial lung.
One by one, people filed in. In the course of the day I saw everybody I have ever known. Even the ghosts of those lost to us stopped by for closure. Hundreds of people tying up the loose ends to hundreds of unresolved questions. They would sit in the cold metal chair next to my bed before they would open their mouths. Some to vent or scream at me. Some to reminisce and say their goodbyes. Some were unwilling to say anything at all, and just watched in silence. Then onward they walked, footfall after footfall, leaving only their memories behind. Within the coming hours, those would wither away with me as well.
As I felt the end drifting steadily closer, something called me out of sleep. I laid wide awake for the next hour or so, breathing the breaths I earned for myself and watching the snow fall drearily against the backdrop of gray sky. I was unfettered now, but remained in stasis, pondering the dream presented to me. Thinking back, I don't honestly remember any visitation in particular, or what was said; I just remember that everyone was there. Perhaps it's better that way.
I can't help but feel like it dredged something up inside of me, though I haven't been able to put my finger on what that might be. Perhaps this craving I've been having lately to revisit times lost, and look at them through the eyes I have now.
I wish that were possible.
I was in a hospital with blue walls; sunny outside but I couldn't see through the windows. A ventilator next to the bed was breathing for me. Fully conscious I laid there, yet unable to move. My joints felt rusty and unused while I listened only to the sound of the machines in the room being drowned out by my new artificial lung.
One by one, people filed in. In the course of the day I saw everybody I have ever known. Even the ghosts of those lost to us stopped by for closure. Hundreds of people tying up the loose ends to hundreds of unresolved questions. They would sit in the cold metal chair next to my bed before they would open their mouths. Some to vent or scream at me. Some to reminisce and say their goodbyes. Some were unwilling to say anything at all, and just watched in silence. Then onward they walked, footfall after footfall, leaving only their memories behind. Within the coming hours, those would wither away with me as well.
As I felt the end drifting steadily closer, something called me out of sleep. I laid wide awake for the next hour or so, breathing the breaths I earned for myself and watching the snow fall drearily against the backdrop of gray sky. I was unfettered now, but remained in stasis, pondering the dream presented to me. Thinking back, I don't honestly remember any visitation in particular, or what was said; I just remember that everyone was there. Perhaps it's better that way.
I can't help but feel like it dredged something up inside of me, though I haven't been able to put my finger on what that might be. Perhaps this craving I've been having lately to revisit times lost, and look at them through the eyes I have now.
I wish that were possible.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
1045 More Days
It was never my intention in the first place.
Nine years ago, my high school art teacher offered me a teacher's assistant position. One of the only times in my life in which I haven't been hesitant to undertake a new extracurricular, I think. Most of the work was simply doing bookkeeping and hanging up the artwork of students whose semester-long careers as artists had already come to a close. The following semester, I wouldn't have the proper study hall periods to continue. However, when the time came to renew or reject my position, he offered me an unusual compromise.
In the future, he had planned to teach a unit on Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator, the two most common programs in the graphic design industry. He knew of my fondness for computers, and informed me that if I signed up for a higher level art course, I wouldn't have to do any work and he would reward me with an automatic A. The exchange being that I would spend each class period teaching myself how to use Photoshop and Illustrator so that I might teach him at the end of the semester, presumably when I had figured it all out. So of course I did it. Free A, right?
I went to Carroll College for video game design. The exciting new major was promised by my admissions advisor. When I arrived my freshman year, my actual advisor informed me that this major wasn't being offered until the following year, and that in the meantime, I should just take software engineering classes, since most will overlap anyway. I had no interest in programming; my main focus was going to be on designing the games. When my second year arrived, the fledgling program barely took off, and I was told that the design aspect of the course was "something they were thinking about in the future." For now, they were concentrating on programming. Even being extremely dissatisfied with it, I stuck with it until the game design major was disbanded at the end of the year.
Suddenly I had to select another major out of the ones that were available at Carroll. Transferring wasn't something I wanted to deal with. I went over to graphic design. I had the experience of working with it in high school, and I knew it was something I could perform decently and I was intrigued enough to continue. The decision was rather rushed, and ultimately it felt like I was just putting a band-aid over the wound.
I stuck with it, and I graduated in pretty good time considering I had to start over mostly from scratch my junior year. I even had the time to double minor in art and theology. I immediately found work... and hated it. It was so psychologically demoralizing that my hatred for it was impossible to hide. While searching for a new job, I stumbled across an ad for MY job. So I quit, rather than get fired. I was offered my a job at a friend's place of employment afterwards. Despite the constant drama and poor management there, I didn't hate it quite so much. I stuck around for the better part of a year, until they laid me off essentially so they could hire their friend (I found out later.)
Then I found my current job. It's pretty easy, and I have a lot of freedom. I was hired to work exclusively on a project that is so gargantuan in its undertaking that when the project comes to a close it will be just short of 2013. In addition, two of the eight people in my department are planning on retiring at that point. As far as graphic design goes, I feel as though this job is best-case-scenario. Regardless, I still don't find myself terribly fond of it.
Now that I've begun my curriculum to get my dog-training certification, I've felt a tremendous sense of relief lately. The last item on my task list for this giant project has a due date of December 7th, 2012. After that point, my job isn't guaranteed. My certification should be done early next year. I can make significantly more money as a dog-trainer than as a graphic designer, even at the start. Depending how much I charge per hour and how much business I get, I could make up to about $170,000 a year, not even working 40 hours a week. But I could also make $0 if I get no business.
My immediate plan is to use that two years to hopefully build a client base and see how much interest there is in my services at that point. If I feel like I can live on dog-training alone, I would be glad to never touch graphic design ever again.
1045 more days until I get to start over again. I can't wait.
Nine years ago, my high school art teacher offered me a teacher's assistant position. One of the only times in my life in which I haven't been hesitant to undertake a new extracurricular, I think. Most of the work was simply doing bookkeeping and hanging up the artwork of students whose semester-long careers as artists had already come to a close. The following semester, I wouldn't have the proper study hall periods to continue. However, when the time came to renew or reject my position, he offered me an unusual compromise.
In the future, he had planned to teach a unit on Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator, the two most common programs in the graphic design industry. He knew of my fondness for computers, and informed me that if I signed up for a higher level art course, I wouldn't have to do any work and he would reward me with an automatic A. The exchange being that I would spend each class period teaching myself how to use Photoshop and Illustrator so that I might teach him at the end of the semester, presumably when I had figured it all out. So of course I did it. Free A, right?
I went to Carroll College for video game design. The exciting new major was promised by my admissions advisor. When I arrived my freshman year, my actual advisor informed me that this major wasn't being offered until the following year, and that in the meantime, I should just take software engineering classes, since most will overlap anyway. I had no interest in programming; my main focus was going to be on designing the games. When my second year arrived, the fledgling program barely took off, and I was told that the design aspect of the course was "something they were thinking about in the future." For now, they were concentrating on programming. Even being extremely dissatisfied with it, I stuck with it until the game design major was disbanded at the end of the year.
Suddenly I had to select another major out of the ones that were available at Carroll. Transferring wasn't something I wanted to deal with. I went over to graphic design. I had the experience of working with it in high school, and I knew it was something I could perform decently and I was intrigued enough to continue. The decision was rather rushed, and ultimately it felt like I was just putting a band-aid over the wound.
I stuck with it, and I graduated in pretty good time considering I had to start over mostly from scratch my junior year. I even had the time to double minor in art and theology. I immediately found work... and hated it. It was so psychologically demoralizing that my hatred for it was impossible to hide. While searching for a new job, I stumbled across an ad for MY job. So I quit, rather than get fired. I was offered my a job at a friend's place of employment afterwards. Despite the constant drama and poor management there, I didn't hate it quite so much. I stuck around for the better part of a year, until they laid me off essentially so they could hire their friend (I found out later.)
Then I found my current job. It's pretty easy, and I have a lot of freedom. I was hired to work exclusively on a project that is so gargantuan in its undertaking that when the project comes to a close it will be just short of 2013. In addition, two of the eight people in my department are planning on retiring at that point. As far as graphic design goes, I feel as though this job is best-case-scenario. Regardless, I still don't find myself terribly fond of it.
Now that I've begun my curriculum to get my dog-training certification, I've felt a tremendous sense of relief lately. The last item on my task list for this giant project has a due date of December 7th, 2012. After that point, my job isn't guaranteed. My certification should be done early next year. I can make significantly more money as a dog-trainer than as a graphic designer, even at the start. Depending how much I charge per hour and how much business I get, I could make up to about $170,000 a year, not even working 40 hours a week. But I could also make $0 if I get no business.
My immediate plan is to use that two years to hopefully build a client base and see how much interest there is in my services at that point. If I feel like I can live on dog-training alone, I would be glad to never touch graphic design ever again.
1045 more days until I get to start over again. I can't wait.
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