I've said from my other previous post that I cannot find any strength and mood to write due to some weird circumstances happening in my life right now. That is true at some extent, but I know in my heart I need to use words to play around and get myself preoccupied may it be writing a grocery list or just repeating stories upon stories in my laptop.
I've been trying my best to get my mind preoccupied from thoughts and scenes of possible nightmares. Anyone has less idea of how graphic and fast forward my mind works. I sometimes find my mind draining me and tipping me to the edge of craziness.
I've been keeping myself busy driving, going to crowded places and moving stuff around. I need activity to not dwell on my own thoughts. I think it's one of the best solutions for now. Writing about the moments I was preoccupied isn't really "writing" at all though. It's like making a diary or a summary of a film that I've just watched in school. It's boring, but I think it's better than not having to write at all.
Although I do attempt, I'm not sure if I'm capable of providing in depth opinions about everything else. It's quite normal, isn't it? When one has a grave problem, it's harder to make opinions about something else. One cannot afford to care when one is in a heap of impending trouble. I think at this point, that's what's happening to me. I'm devoid of any opinions. I can't hold a coherent thought about anything not concerning me right now. Apparently I also do tend to make myself a mess in expressing my thoughts, but like I've said, until this month pulls through expect to read insubstantial stuff from me.
What I'm going to usually write for now are random things that are happening to me, like moving to the new house, about Harvey, about what happened with my day, silly mundane and less creative posts are what you'll get for a couple days or so.
You can't imagine how I hate this feeling, seriously like I want to go Mars and never come back.
I guess I would just have to observe myself and provide random superficial posts just to get myself preoccupied. I just hope when everything goes well. And when I look back by reading at this post, I knew it was just my paranoia kicking in and not something else.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
I have officially started to move
To keep my mind off from every ticking minute of a possible nightmare, yesterday I devoted my morning to Harvey before I went with Mitch to Cash and Carry. He was meeting his photographer friend there as I am planned to check out Ikea in Palanan Makati. After roaming around and having lunch at my comfort Noodle House Luk Yuen, I went to the Japanese Home Store and got a few things that I don't need (like a ruler clipboard). But the fact that it preoccupied me, made my day easier.
When I went outside it was slightly raining already, but I braved it because waiting there with my racy thoughts seemed suicidal. The idea is to preoccupy myself more so I ran towards my car and headed to Enrique Street to check out the Ikea Store.
The store in itself is not actually a store. Any passing car would've missed it. It's in a slightly secluded building in an alternative street I usually pass by when I was in St. Scho and La Salle. There are no displays on the windows, you have to park in a building with a small flag of IKEA and climb to the third floor. On the third floor, where the hallway was cramped, there's an airconditioned showroom full of IKEA products.
After less than an hour of fantasizing, I got a 1100 worth of blue lamp for my brother and a 450 bucks reading lamp for me. After my Ikea-Accomplishment, I went to Greenbelt, parked there and traversed my way to Landmark.
In the home section of Landmark, I greatly enjoyed. I bought pillows, covers, mats and towels. Realizing how I extremely enjoyed myself I went to the kitchen wares. I bought cute oil bottles and canisters for sugar, coffee, cream and pasta. I remember being mesmerized with glass canisters Giada de Laurentis uses in her shows. I bought a dozen of all shapes and sizes and knew that I would have a problem carrying them all the way to Greenbelt with a high tendency of breaking them.
But I didn't stop there, I bought metal wares for fruits and plates. The ones I bought are with ingenious designs and would fit perfectly with the bottles and the granite effect of our new kitchen. My mom bought hideously black racks without even bothering to transfer bottles of salt and vinegar. I was irritated and I knew this would be doing the kitchen an immense favor. I felt like a super hero. But if there is a certain kitchen wares sickness, I've just experienced it.
I had three full baskets of pillows, bottles and metal racks and with no approximate calculation in mind. I only had 200 bucks in my wallet and my handy credit card. If my mom were there she would've nagged me to death. The bill totaled to a sky rocketing 5 thousand bucks! UGH. It was too much, way too much for my intended budget for the day. Adding up the things I spent in Ikea and Harvey's looming shots, I knew I'm close to being dead.
But the fact is, I enjoyed every moment of it. It made those nasty thoughts go away. I was even proud of myself for achieving something and mind you, being able to carry those heavy packages all the way to Greenbelt. Simply exhilarating.
After I parked my stuff, I went to Powerbooks and continued my sort of "therapy." I hit it with a homerun by getting White Mocha Frap at Starbucks as a last reward before I went home and finally face the inevitable.
Yes. Yesterday, late afternoon, I officially moved.
Yehey for my friends and Yehey for my mom.
As soon as I presented what I bought to my ever-pleased mother, I went to get a couple of boxes to transfer my clothes from the old house. I spent the whole afternoon carrying loads of stuff, rearranging my uninteresting sets of clothes, tucked Harvey to sleep and slept in my brother's new room (much to his displeasure), since my room is still currently a dumpsite.
**My cousin Den who left for Jeddah last night. She did her own chaotic packing.
**And so the packing continues. (Finally, for me!)
*After my clothes and toiletries, save the best for last (books and my important thingamajics)
This morning, or at least today, I'm going to transfer my other belongings and finally sleep at my new room still devoid of personal stuff like pictures frames and such. But I know that would come in gradually.
I'll be officially leaving my old memories behind and other possessions that I would just be getting in the future. Since internet is still malfunctioning in our new house, I'll still be doing my online work at the old house devoid of living things (It's still hanging there somehow). The living room is still in tact. There's still one working refrigerator. A dining table, a dwindling gas range, large tv with DVDs. It's still pretty much "livable" but the house is missing activities and people. Whenever I go there to surf or get something, it's scary at some point, but it's stupid to be scared with a house you've lived for more than 20 years. I'm just probably weary of the memories echoing in the walls and the emptiness it brings. Nakakaawa. I feel I'm abandoning something.
So by today, it's going to be a household documentation at its finest. I'll take all the emotions and memories with me. I've no way of escaping it, literally and figurately (my house is just across anyways). At least I'm getting productively preoccupied. I sincerely hope I get almost everything important done today. I can't stand shifting grounds.
BTW: The IKEA BLUE LAMP CRACKED DOWN due to my unstable nerves. Goodbye 1 thousand. Say hello to my klutziness. To my brother, better luck next time, it would've broken with you anyways.
When I went outside it was slightly raining already, but I braved it because waiting there with my racy thoughts seemed suicidal. The idea is to preoccupy myself more so I ran towards my car and headed to Enrique Street to check out the Ikea Store.
The store in itself is not actually a store. Any passing car would've missed it. It's in a slightly secluded building in an alternative street I usually pass by when I was in St. Scho and La Salle. There are no displays on the windows, you have to park in a building with a small flag of IKEA and climb to the third floor. On the third floor, where the hallway was cramped, there's an airconditioned showroom full of IKEA products.
After less than an hour of fantasizing, I got a 1100 worth of blue lamp for my brother and a 450 bucks reading lamp for me. After my Ikea-Accomplishment, I went to Greenbelt, parked there and traversed my way to Landmark.
In the home section of Landmark, I greatly enjoyed. I bought pillows, covers, mats and towels. Realizing how I extremely enjoyed myself I went to the kitchen wares. I bought cute oil bottles and canisters for sugar, coffee, cream and pasta. I remember being mesmerized with glass canisters Giada de Laurentis uses in her shows. I bought a dozen of all shapes and sizes and knew that I would have a problem carrying them all the way to Greenbelt with a high tendency of breaking them.
But I didn't stop there, I bought metal wares for fruits and plates. The ones I bought are with ingenious designs and would fit perfectly with the bottles and the granite effect of our new kitchen. My mom bought hideously black racks without even bothering to transfer bottles of salt and vinegar. I was irritated and I knew this would be doing the kitchen an immense favor. I felt like a super hero. But if there is a certain kitchen wares sickness, I've just experienced it.
I had three full baskets of pillows, bottles and metal racks and with no approximate calculation in mind. I only had 200 bucks in my wallet and my handy credit card. If my mom were there she would've nagged me to death. The bill totaled to a sky rocketing 5 thousand bucks! UGH. It was too much, way too much for my intended budget for the day. Adding up the things I spent in Ikea and Harvey's looming shots, I knew I'm close to being dead.
But the fact is, I enjoyed every moment of it. It made those nasty thoughts go away. I was even proud of myself for achieving something and mind you, being able to carry those heavy packages all the way to Greenbelt. Simply exhilarating.
After I parked my stuff, I went to Powerbooks and continued my sort of "therapy." I hit it with a homerun by getting White Mocha Frap at Starbucks as a last reward before I went home and finally face the inevitable.
Yes. Yesterday, late afternoon, I officially moved.
Yehey for my friends and Yehey for my mom.
As soon as I presented what I bought to my ever-pleased mother, I went to get a couple of boxes to transfer my clothes from the old house. I spent the whole afternoon carrying loads of stuff, rearranging my uninteresting sets of clothes, tucked Harvey to sleep and slept in my brother's new room (much to his displeasure), since my room is still currently a dumpsite.
**My cousin Den who left for Jeddah last night. She did her own chaotic packing.
**And so the packing continues. (Finally, for me!)
*After my clothes and toiletries, save the best for last (books and my important thingamajics)
This morning, or at least today, I'm going to transfer my other belongings and finally sleep at my new room still devoid of personal stuff like pictures frames and such. But I know that would come in gradually.
I'll be officially leaving my old memories behind and other possessions that I would just be getting in the future. Since internet is still malfunctioning in our new house, I'll still be doing my online work at the old house devoid of living things (It's still hanging there somehow). The living room is still in tact. There's still one working refrigerator. A dining table, a dwindling gas range, large tv with DVDs. It's still pretty much "livable" but the house is missing activities and people. Whenever I go there to surf or get something, it's scary at some point, but it's stupid to be scared with a house you've lived for more than 20 years. I'm just probably weary of the memories echoing in the walls and the emptiness it brings. Nakakaawa. I feel I'm abandoning something.
So by today, it's going to be a household documentation at its finest. I'll take all the emotions and memories with me. I've no way of escaping it, literally and figurately (my house is just across anyways). At least I'm getting productively preoccupied. I sincerely hope I get almost everything important done today. I can't stand shifting grounds.
BTW: The IKEA BLUE LAMP CRACKED DOWN due to my unstable nerves. Goodbye 1 thousand. Say hello to my klutziness. To my brother, better luck next time, it would've broken with you anyways.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Semi-Blog Hiatus
For a couple of days or even for a week I might not regularly post a blog or not post at all.
I am in a very weird moment right now that my mind is so racy enough NOT to capture even a slightly coherent thought. All I'm thinking about is this particular DEMISE. I'm damned stressed right now, that's for sure. I'm so worried about something that, in effect, could change my life forever. I can't think straight. I can't concentrate. I can't appreciate life. I can't even write a coherent post.
Until then (this month), I'm not my normal self.
I am in a very weird moment right now that my mind is so racy enough NOT to capture even a slightly coherent thought. All I'm thinking about is this particular DEMISE. I'm damned stressed right now, that's for sure. I'm so worried about something that, in effect, could change my life forever. I can't think straight. I can't concentrate. I can't appreciate life. I can't even write a coherent post.
Until then (this month), I'm not my normal self.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Coward Pig
Excuse my Happy Breakfast mood, but this post is not at all Pleasant.
Don’t you just love (to kill) people who are making “parinig.” It’s a non-confrontational confrontation as they would say. To put it shortly according to villoria.com it’s wherein “you throw words into the air, within earshot of the person you dislike, or within hearing distance of your friends who support you. You’d rather not say it to the face of your object of ire, but neither do you want to keep silent.” Well you know what, it’s damn irritating and really pathetic.
I hold more credit for people who confront than those who use the coward route. At least if they send their messages directly to the person, it’s intended to be clear so that more positive results would be achieved. In making “paranig” it’s either you don’t want to address the issue or you’re just scared to. But the fact is you rant and complain in public. Ugh. It’s true that in this world, not all people are immediately dense and sensitive. Sometimes people have to be told about the circumstances. But it’s always more respectable to choose a clearer and more dignified method especially if the person concerned is just a foot away.
We were eating at the pantry last night and 5 of us were occupying half of the long table. The other table was pretty occupied as well because the lechon was still in position for other teams to partake. We were finishing up on our desserts when a couple of women, lead by a largely built procrastinator, entered the pantry with their take outs. Obviously they were going to eat.
She looked at the other table, looked at us and sighed heavily. “May Kumakain pa ata.” (Someone’s still eating!) with a tone that could instantly ignite me to rip her off to pieces (in my imagination). The tone and the rolling eye movement were enough to accuse us for the lack of space due to our presence and the lechon’s. Maybe she was that hungry or she was just having her monthly visitor. Nevertheless, she thought she gained triumph by stressing her displeasure for all of her cretins to hear.
Fine, in a way we were at fault because the Lechon took up much space. It’s not like we have something to do about it, but after what she did, compassion and sensitive KAPUT! KEBER to her! We wouldn't want to realize and be sensitive enough to fix our shortcomings if we are being treated in such an undiplomatic way. Yeah, we're at fault, but since you’re just a hot headed undiplomatic bitch, then how we would want to see you suffer until you learn how to improve your Grade-school methods of problem solving.
Since she is the queen bee and supposedly “aggressive” enough to release that particular remark, would it kill her to kindly ask us to remove the lechon? We might even be so eager to wipe the table clean. Her choice of attack was so pathetic that all respect was drained from her. I wanted to slap her to pieces, chop her head off and replace the lechon’s head with hers. But I just looked at her and realized that she’s not worth it, plus the fact that my colleagues were there spared them the shock of their lives. As a token of my appreciation though, I just left the lechon for her just in case she would want to cannibalize her own kind.
So for those who would wish to confront, a tip, just do so. It would be much better for you, for the person and for the problem to be solved. Making parinig is cowardly, unrespectable and downright funny. The only thing that PARANIG results to is UNNECESSARY ENEMIES. Enemies that based from your method, you could only fight from afar. If you have a problem with a person, given the right place and time, deal with it. I’m sorry, but not all would want to fight coward losers.
Don’t you just love (to kill) people who are making “parinig.” It’s a non-confrontational confrontation as they would say. To put it shortly according to villoria.com it’s wherein “you throw words into the air, within earshot of the person you dislike, or within hearing distance of your friends who support you. You’d rather not say it to the face of your object of ire, but neither do you want to keep silent.” Well you know what, it’s damn irritating and really pathetic.
I hold more credit for people who confront than those who use the coward route. At least if they send their messages directly to the person, it’s intended to be clear so that more positive results would be achieved. In making “paranig” it’s either you don’t want to address the issue or you’re just scared to. But the fact is you rant and complain in public. Ugh. It’s true that in this world, not all people are immediately dense and sensitive. Sometimes people have to be told about the circumstances. But it’s always more respectable to choose a clearer and more dignified method especially if the person concerned is just a foot away.
We were eating at the pantry last night and 5 of us were occupying half of the long table. The other table was pretty occupied as well because the lechon was still in position for other teams to partake. We were finishing up on our desserts when a couple of women, lead by a largely built procrastinator, entered the pantry with their take outs. Obviously they were going to eat.
She looked at the other table, looked at us and sighed heavily. “May Kumakain pa ata.” (Someone’s still eating!) with a tone that could instantly ignite me to rip her off to pieces (in my imagination). The tone and the rolling eye movement were enough to accuse us for the lack of space due to our presence and the lechon’s. Maybe she was that hungry or she was just having her monthly visitor. Nevertheless, she thought she gained triumph by stressing her displeasure for all of her cretins to hear.
Fine, in a way we were at fault because the Lechon took up much space. It’s not like we have something to do about it, but after what she did, compassion and sensitive KAPUT! KEBER to her! We wouldn't want to realize and be sensitive enough to fix our shortcomings if we are being treated in such an undiplomatic way. Yeah, we're at fault, but since you’re just a hot headed undiplomatic bitch, then how we would want to see you suffer until you learn how to improve your Grade-school methods of problem solving.
Since she is the queen bee and supposedly “aggressive” enough to release that particular remark, would it kill her to kindly ask us to remove the lechon? We might even be so eager to wipe the table clean. Her choice of attack was so pathetic that all respect was drained from her. I wanted to slap her to pieces, chop her head off and replace the lechon’s head with hers. But I just looked at her and realized that she’s not worth it, plus the fact that my colleagues were there spared them the shock of their lives. As a token of my appreciation though, I just left the lechon for her just in case she would want to cannibalize her own kind.
So for those who would wish to confront, a tip, just do so. It would be much better for you, for the person and for the problem to be solved. Making parinig is cowardly, unrespectable and downright funny. The only thing that PARANIG results to is UNNECESSARY ENEMIES. Enemies that based from your method, you could only fight from afar. If you have a problem with a person, given the right place and time, deal with it. I’m sorry, but not all would want to fight coward losers.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Yes I can
A colleague brought lechon for lunch. There WAS (take note of the tense) a Conti's Mango Bravo and Fruit Salad. I had a couple of servings each, after consuming a newly discovered BUDBOD (Pinoy Rice Toppings) for breakfast. No wait, I still had apple pie this early morning.
I feel I'm warped into another dimension, or AM I THAT DIMENSION?
Coffee's powers did not affect me at all. The only thing that could ease this sore tummy is either exercise or sleep. Exercise can cause appendicitis. Sleeping causes bangungot. Damn.
****
In the other part of the globe BARACK OBAMA won the US elections. He is currently overwhelmed and tossed into another surreal dimension far different from mine. How does it feel like being the NEWLY ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE SUPER POWER? HOw does it feel like to make HISTORY in a global scale? How does it feel like to INHERIT ONE OF THE WORST CASES in American History? I'd be overwhelmed myself. I'd be stuck in a room and couldn't bother to eat another spoonful even if their celebratory dumplings.
But neither could deter his power of speech. I thought I'd cry while hearing him deliver it on TV. Ho well Life goes on. He has around 70 days to prep up, and I have roughly 3 months to get into shape for summer...if I can. But wait, there's a sudden spurge of inspiration. YES, I CAN!
***Congratulations to Barack Obama, the history making newly elected President of US of A. Clap Clap.
I feel I'm warped into another dimension, or AM I THAT DIMENSION?
Coffee's powers did not affect me at all. The only thing that could ease this sore tummy is either exercise or sleep. Exercise can cause appendicitis. Sleeping causes bangungot. Damn.
****
In the other part of the globe BARACK OBAMA won the US elections. He is currently overwhelmed and tossed into another surreal dimension far different from mine. How does it feel like being the NEWLY ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE SUPER POWER? HOw does it feel like to make HISTORY in a global scale? How does it feel like to INHERIT ONE OF THE WORST CASES in American History? I'd be overwhelmed myself. I'd be stuck in a room and couldn't bother to eat another spoonful even if their celebratory dumplings.
But neither could deter his power of speech. I thought I'd cry while hearing him deliver it on TV. Ho well Life goes on. He has around 70 days to prep up, and I have roughly 3 months to get into shape for summer...if I can. But wait, there's a sudden spurge of inspiration. YES, I CAN!
***Congratulations to Barack Obama, the history making newly elected President of US of A. Clap Clap.
Harvey Diary: Anxiety and Sitting
I have an announcement today, and a very proud one.
After not giving up on my Harvey last night, he finally knows how to do one basic dog trick, which is to SIT. I know this feat is simple and basic, but no one could deny how hard it is for a racy pup to obey your commands and do it very well. He sits, bows down his head and looks at you like he's the most angelic creature in the world. I'm so very very pleased.
But I can't help but feel a little bit anxious because I wasn't able to play with him before I went to work. It pains me tremendously. It's so tough that a chunk of me wanted to file for sick leave just to play with him and not let him feel isolated. Well obviously, I can't do that now. I'm just so eager to go home. I know that it's hard that as a pup he's not being taken cared of the way I wanted since I have work and people at home are terribly busy. I call all the time to remind them, but what's the point? I can seriously hear him crying.
But I would make this work. There are just a few tweakings on the road.
After not giving up on my Harvey last night, he finally knows how to do one basic dog trick, which is to SIT. I know this feat is simple and basic, but no one could deny how hard it is for a racy pup to obey your commands and do it very well. He sits, bows down his head and looks at you like he's the most angelic creature in the world. I'm so very very pleased.
But I can't help but feel a little bit anxious because I wasn't able to play with him before I went to work. It pains me tremendously. It's so tough that a chunk of me wanted to file for sick leave just to play with him and not let him feel isolated. Well obviously, I can't do that now. I'm just so eager to go home. I know that it's hard that as a pup he's not being taken cared of the way I wanted since I have work and people at home are terribly busy. I call all the time to remind them, but what's the point? I can seriously hear him crying.
But I would make this work. There are just a few tweakings on the road.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Convincing myself even more: Harvey Edition
Even though I already have a puppy, pretty much fed him and tried to train him minor stuff, I still tend to slap myself sometimes for actually getting into this dog-ownership thing. First of all, it’s not really required in an adult life. It’s a preference and a want. Second, I’m a person who requires feedback especially if I’m doing something that I really have to learn; and unfortunately limited exposure with dogs makes me really clueless. Wagging of the dog’s tail is pretty much the only feedback that I know.
As a certified adult, I’ve never envisioned myself the nurturing type. My motherly instincts are concentrating on achievements, trainings and instructions. My temper is an unreliable crescendo. I am also not what you would call warm and affectionate. I seldom find things cute and it’s always, for me, a voluntary burden to try to take care of other people or animals’ happiness. I love developments and anything to do to alleviate situations, but interaction and direct contact are not my expertise.
That’s why when my close friends, my families and even my boyfriend found out that I’m itching for a dog, I’m sure they didn’t take it seriously. For them, it was probably one of my instant cravings that would simply fade away. But every single day from the moment I realized that I wanted a dog, the desire just kept getting stronger.
Not that I was totally deprived of dogs. We have two old dogs at home, a Dalmatian and an askal (Mongrel). They are constantly tied due to their size and inconvenience, but they are good guard dogs. But it isn’t supposed to be that way. Dogs should be free and not tied 24/7. I just feel sorry for them, but my parents’ house is essentially not my house and there are rules which I have to accept. Even if I did try to train them, it would be close to impossible. They hardly see me come out or call their names. There’s a possibility of an outward attack towards me. The truth is, neither of them are my dogs. I didn’t choose to have them. I just found out that they were there. Our ASKAL’S acquisition, which JD named BUDDY, escapes my memory. The pure-bred Dalmatian was a gift to my sister by one of her ninongs. I wasn’t advised or expected to fully take care of them. Although I advocate their needs and occasionally fight with my sister over their freedom, my efforts all fall short.
But I had a dog once. At least I treated him as my dog. He came into our house as promised after attending a family friend’s Christmas dinner in my late elementary years. He was a pure-bred German Shepherd named BUSTER. As far as I could remember, that was our first pure bred, large, guard dog. Being a guard dog, he required a lot of training and exercise, which we never really gave him. He received minor instructions, but neither of us knew what's really right to do. But since I’m the eldest and more capable than my sister at that time, my parents expected me to walk and pet him on their behalf. I actually did walk him around our village park and I would always come back with cuts and bruises. He was too aggressive and I felt that he was seriously attacking me, but it took me some time to figure out that he was just playing. Since he was not used to being tied up, every weekend when I would walk him, I honestly prayed to God that I would reach the park alive. It wouldn’t be a surprise for passing cars to see him gnawing at my legs in the middle of the street. There was one instance that a man slowed down his car and asked me if I was okay.
It wasn’t Buster’s fault that he was too powerful, aggressive and demanding to care of. It was naturally our family’s fault, and again my efforts fell a little bit short to cover our shortcomings. But I secretly think that amongst my family members, I was his owner. But there was one unfortunate time that I was playing with him at our backyard. Since my parents are used to Buster being tied up, they thought I was following one of their rules. My father, who rarely came home early, casually roamed around the house, went out not knowing that we were at the far corner playing, as usual me being his chew toy. Buster suddenly saw my dad and ran towards him. He was too fast and too aggressive as he barked at my dad and tried to block his way. Every move my dad made Buster was quicker. From a stranger’s point of view, with Buster’s enormous form, he would say that my dad is being attacked. But in my point of view, Buster was just excited to see him and wanted to play. My father, who is neutral when it comes to dogs, was terrified. He tried to call for help and I ran to him, telling him not to move, but Buster already tried to gnaw at his legs, not bite, but gnaw. I told him to stay put, but my father ran and the inevitable happened. The dog went after him like some sort of game. The maids were terrified and my mom was watching. My dad, without any more option, climbed upon a glass table. In a few seconds, the glass shattered and he slid through the metal railings. The next thing I saw were pools of thick blood running down his thighs and ending up on the floor. Buster observed as I tried to pull him back. My dad was screaming with pain as the driver and the rest of the household helped him to the hospital.
Everyone pointed their fingers towards me. Since they did not fully understand the nature of the dog, they tried to make me feel guilty of my dad’s terrible condition. The shards of glass cut both his thighs and calves so deep that it needed stitching and a lot of painful bandage changes. My mother was really upset and vowed to either kill or send Buster away. Of course I would object, we were each others’ comforts.
For us, that was traumatic. Buster served a great guard dog, but it was unfortunate that he was brought into our family. I have a feeling he didn’t enjoy. He just died one day due to heartworm, and ironically my father was the one who saw it. I was so upset. It wasn’t supposed to be my dog and I took all the blame for its mishaps. Not that I would complain. It didn’t matter because I loved the dog, but feeling so terribly upset made dog-ownership so traumatic for me. I never want to experience instant detachment or hurt like some living thing just dies on you. From then on, I never bothered to care for a dog anymore. I appreciate them, but not to the point of owning one ever again. It’s too draining and too ambitious for me. I’ve limited myself to hamsters and fish, which I eventually sold or let go.
So it came as an instant surprise why I really wanted a dog to begin with. My parents knew that I’m the last one to attempt to go through the whole sacrifice again. They feel that I can’t manage it as I haven’t been able to manage Buster. They have not seen me with my “OWN” pet before, and knowing my developed personality of “Constant detachment to living things, they don’t think I’ll ever be a suitable owner. They fear that it is just a sudden phase that would quickly erode which would leave the dog to rot. At some point, I understand their fears.
I know I’ve made a couple of mistakes in the past and I’m no expert in taking care of living things. They also know that I won’t go into such an effort to spend for the dogs’ medications and vaccine, plus I don’t have all the time in the world to properly train him. It goes as far as saying that they highly discourage it. My boyfriend, being experienced with taking care of a dog, knows that I’ll be faced with a lot of trials. He hasn’t seen me face those trials before and he fears that I might get stressed or back out. Seriously, they all too care for me and the dog, that I can honestly say how much I wanted to shut them all out and prove them wrong.
The truth is I WANT A DOG. Why? Probably because I miss the thought of taking care of something to that extreme, I want to exert effort in making myself selfless one day at a time. A dog is a minor step after all.
But I know what I want, and whatever I want especially if it's something as big as this I give a lot of study. I've thought about it a hundred times and even battled myself with it, but every morning the desire stays the same. I just hope that I'll end up learning and being good at it since I'll be putting a lot of time and effort to this.
I want a dog and I luckily I found one after a long and grueling search. Every time I see him, good or not, I just know that I won't regret it.
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