I need a new computer. It goes so slow, doesn't do HD video streaming well. Not to mention the hard drive is making unusual noises. I've been putting up with a compaq presario, from like since 2003. I've seen enough screen shots and heard enough of windows vista that I know to stay clear...I'm not sure windows 7 is much better. My software is out of date. My keyboard(s) are shot. The mouse still works okay,though takes up a usb port. The next best thing, I figured is to go ahead and make the switchover to a mac.
Now that I ordered one,I anxiously wait and prepare to rebuild my system and get the software I need. it may take a while. I don't do credit cards or charge if I can avoid it. I buy big things by saving my money and not spending it all on little things like ordering lunch every day. Bag lunches are cheaper. Having no car is a pain, but that also means no gas to pay for and no insurance to have to pay on it either. If all goes to plan,and no unplanned events/expenses occur, I shall be able to buy photoshop CS in another month or two.
There are some things I will miss. Petz used to be one of my favorite games and time wasting projects. I haven't played it in years, so I doubt I'll miss it any more than I do now. Some other games will be lost, but then again I probably could still find mac versions of those old games that are even better(bugdom.)If not, then it isn't really a big deal. After all the main thing I want it for is to operate photoshop (CS5) and whatever else I wish to do with my art and photography.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Leap Frogging Buses
I'm not sure what it is "officially" called. The scenario: You're waiting at a bus stop. The bus comes. Right behind it is another bus of the same route number.
How did that happen? Was it a mistake? Did one driver fall behind schedule and then end up near the bus behind them by 15-20 min or did the driver get ahead of schedule and then meet up with the bus that would have been in front by about 15-20 min? Then the all important question: Should you enter the first bus or the bus right behind it?
Whenever my dad came across the situation, he advised me to take the rear bus, thinking that the one in front is overloaded with people and behind. When I am in the situation it seems either bus I take ends up full and takes longer than the other, or that both get pretty close to my desired stop at about the same time. It seems they take turns as the front/rear bus anyway. Maybe I am just unlucky.
How did that happen? Was it a mistake? Did one driver fall behind schedule and then end up near the bus behind them by 15-20 min or did the driver get ahead of schedule and then meet up with the bus that would have been in front by about 15-20 min? Then the all important question: Should you enter the first bus or the bus right behind it?
Whenever my dad came across the situation, he advised me to take the rear bus, thinking that the one in front is overloaded with people and behind. When I am in the situation it seems either bus I take ends up full and takes longer than the other, or that both get pretty close to my desired stop at about the same time. It seems they take turns as the front/rear bus anyway. Maybe I am just unlucky.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A wow moment....followed by a darn I wish I had my camera moment
This morning on my way to work, I saw perhaps the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life (or at least in a very long time.) And darn it, it happened to be winter, my least favorite season!
Trees are very beautiful things decorated with leaves that fit each season; green in summer, flame red, orange, and yellow in the fall, and lovely pink, red and white blossoms in the spring, but what about winter? The bare skeletons left behind create an interesting pattern with a lace like quality, but still no leaves. Those trees lucky to have leaves are withered and brown. Pine trees and evergreens are the few that hold any green.
This morning every tree, branch, and shrub was adorned with a new set of leaves - pure white frost. There was something very mystical and unbelievable about it all. Everywhere I looked, it was a perfect scene out of painting, or several paintings. I was nearly in tears. Words could not describe the scene before my eyes. Cloudy skies formed a soft gray backdrop. Everything in the horizon dropped into a thick veil of misty frozen fog. Near the window wispy crystal flakes whipped up and swirled around the air.
The news team referred to it as Hoar Frost (though the term "Rime frost" could also possibly describe the conditions.) Whatever frost it was, was created by the dense fog and the very cold temperatures.
As much as I wanted to savor the moment, my ride ended and I had to go to work. No time for pictures. This time, it was probably good that I didn't have my camera or the time to shoot pictures. Being stuck on the light rail, my attention would have been focused on trying to shoot moving targets. Disappointment with whatever shots I missed or got rendered poorly by movement blur, window reflections and blocked by obstacles would be inevitable. Without the camera, I was left to take in all I could see to create a lasting vivid memory. Still, it would have been nice for blogging sake to have a picture...maybe some day I'll paint one.
Trees are very beautiful things decorated with leaves that fit each season; green in summer, flame red, orange, and yellow in the fall, and lovely pink, red and white blossoms in the spring, but what about winter? The bare skeletons left behind create an interesting pattern with a lace like quality, but still no leaves. Those trees lucky to have leaves are withered and brown. Pine trees and evergreens are the few that hold any green.
This morning every tree, branch, and shrub was adorned with a new set of leaves - pure white frost. There was something very mystical and unbelievable about it all. Everywhere I looked, it was a perfect scene out of painting, or several paintings. I was nearly in tears. Words could not describe the scene before my eyes. Cloudy skies formed a soft gray backdrop. Everything in the horizon dropped into a thick veil of misty frozen fog. Near the window wispy crystal flakes whipped up and swirled around the air.
The news team referred to it as Hoar Frost (though the term "Rime frost" could also possibly describe the conditions.) Whatever frost it was, was created by the dense fog and the very cold temperatures.
As much as I wanted to savor the moment, my ride ended and I had to go to work. No time for pictures. This time, it was probably good that I didn't have my camera or the time to shoot pictures. Being stuck on the light rail, my attention would have been focused on trying to shoot moving targets. Disappointment with whatever shots I missed or got rendered poorly by movement blur, window reflections and blocked by obstacles would be inevitable. Without the camera, I was left to take in all I could see to create a lasting vivid memory. Still, it would have been nice for blogging sake to have a picture...maybe some day I'll paint one.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
LOST
Just saw LOST tonight. Was that ever a weird episode or what? I wasn't really surprised with the plot opening. So far it seems to be sort of going the way I wondered about.
For those who haven't seen it and want a mild spoiler: It looks like it opens up with a couple different timelines; one if things went the way they "should" have if they had fixed everything and if the island wasn't there, and the other with their attempt to change the future failing.
I had a hunch if the characters could fix everything to be the way they wanted, it probably wouldn't be ideal, and that what did happen on the island was probably the best they could get (even considering all the bad things.) Will be interesting to see how this continues thoughout the final series.
It kind of begs the question with our daily lives, if we had the chance to do things over would they really be better?
On a side note, it appears that comment moderation only works with the account that the blog was created with, not the one that I've been using to post lately. Appologies for the delay.
For those who haven't seen it and want a mild spoiler: It looks like it opens up with a couple different timelines; one if things went the way they "should" have if they had fixed everything and if the island wasn't there, and the other with their attempt to change the future failing.
I had a hunch if the characters could fix everything to be the way they wanted, it probably wouldn't be ideal, and that what did happen on the island was probably the best they could get (even considering all the bad things.) Will be interesting to see how this continues thoughout the final series.
It kind of begs the question with our daily lives, if we had the chance to do things over would they really be better?
On a side note, it appears that comment moderation only works with the account that the blog was created with, not the one that I've been using to post lately. Appologies for the delay.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Ever have a weird dream, then go back so some point in time?
Ever wake up from a weird dream, then go through a string of thoughts only to end up with some particular moment of time?
Well this time it was some dream of going back through some place in Appleton, WI. The back yard was flooded like some kind of huge creek. (a little bit of background: these were a string of town homes that had no fences bordering them. I lived there from about age 6 to 10 or 11 years old.) In reality I don't remember any flooding occurring in the back yard of these houses, but it occurs in several dreams enough to make me wonder if it did happen but something I had forgotten. (there was though a creek in a field nearby the houses.)
In some dreams, the flooding is so deep, I can go through with a boat. This time there were all kinds of plants growing in the water. Many of them were invasive species from who knows where. They were choking out the native plants. My goal was to quickly catch some of the native plants and try to put them some place before the weeds could get them. At several points I was reminded how healthy and beautiful everything looked. Even the weeds were admirable, but they were growing fast..almost enough to be able to watch. My time was limited.
The dream shifted to a scene of grandma and I looking through buildings in downtown St. Paul. (in my dreams all cities seem to be painted by a landscape of towering sky-scrapers. Almost never does any city look as it should.) Some reason we were squabbling over a wok. If I were to find a yellow gas burning
stove, she wanted me to give her the wok in exchange for another that could be used on the stove. Whatever....
In the dream, she and I were both looking for apartments. I didn't get to see the outcome, because my dream fizzled out and I woke up at some climatic point... (that always happens?)
Upon waking up and several thought processes later, I was brought back to some time I was riding my bike down some old lady's lawn. Previously I was trying to find some friend's house, but neither she nor I seemed to know what neighborhood she lived in or what her house looked like. I tried to find it based on a sketchy description. Frustrated and to the point of crying, I gave up and headed home. But just in time I glanced over and found a neat looking huge backyard owned by an old lady.
Her lawn composed of a really steep hill. It was well mowed and provided the ideal place to just glide down with ones bike. It gave a great thrill, but not dangerous enough to fall or run into anything. It was just what I needed after a frustrating time. For a moment I forgot how upset and frustrated I was and had a great time.
Whatever the case, the owner wasn't impressed. She came out and had an impressive, over the top, fit. I mean, like as if one couldn't do any crime worse than do a little damage to her great amazing lawn. Forget murder or terrorism... This was the top crime anyone could ever imagine. She yelled out in a fit of rage, "I'm gonna call the cops! Get off my lawn now or I'm gonna call! I'm calling the cops right now!" This lady was shaking both her fists in the air, probably stomping her feet as well.
I didn't really get to study her interesting behavior. Utterly terrified at the the thought of being handcuffed and sent to jail, I petaled my bike as fast as I could out of her lawn and far away from her sight. Miraculously I got home safely.
Even then as a 10 year old, I felt like I did something seriously wrong. It wasn't the fact I trespassed into some old lady's lawn. (legally it is a crime.) It was that I failed to speak up and potentially make a difference in someones life. Once again I was rather cowardly and took the easiest way out, rather than speak out.
I had met this lady before. I was with my dad at the time and we talked. At the time she owned a chunk of land. She was trying to keep it rather neat, didn't like some teenagers coming in with their beer bottles, etc.. I expressed I didn't like them either. (they liked to scare and harass me.) My dad brought up about the developments going on with the field. The DNR had regulations against developing land so many feet from a creek. The land was considered a wetland and was supposed to be protected. The developers were illegally filling in the land so they could develop it later. The lady expressed that she was keeping her land until the value went up so she could sell it. At least that's what I picked up with my 10 year old mind. She was interested in selling it to be developed, with little interest about keeping it for the environment. I may have mentioned to her my concerns, but it was irrelevant to the story.
This was a women that needed something, perhaps a childhood... In my 10 year old mind if I could do this moment over, I would not have fled. Now as an adult I am left wondering, what if... Maybe it would form the basis of an interesting story. If I were to write it in a story it would be something like this:
Gathering up all the courage I had, I walked my bike up the steep hill. Meanwhile the lady continued to hurl threats about calling the cops. Perhaps she did. But for some reason, this time I wasn't afraid. I had a mission to follow. This mission was to help this old lady. Why help an old lady? I didn't know. Something inside me wanted this. I stopped in front of the little old lady. She was barely as tall as me, if not a little shorter. For a moment she stopped yelling and looked surprised.
"Why are you standing here?"
Lost for words, I stood there for a few seconds. She continued, "Didn't you hear me? I'm calling the cops."
"I was just having a little fun," I answered timidly.
"This is my lawn," she responded grumpily, "You're not supposed to be here on someone elses' yard."
"Where you ever a child?" I asked suddenly. The old women was taken aback. What a stupid question. Of course she was. Offended, she frowned even more than she already was.
"What does that have to do with this? Of course I was."
"Have you ever ridden your bike down a hill?" I asked.
"Not someone elses' hill," she answered. For once she looked less angry. Perhaps she was feeling sorry for me. "Don't you have a playground or some swings to play on around your house?"
"No," I answered, "they won't allow it." After all, My dad had tried to install a swing set in our lawn. The landowner forced him to take it down. There were no parks that I could walk to by myself. The closest one was kind of a distance and I would have to cross a busy street.
The old women looked even sorrier than ever. For once she realized, this kid must not have what she used to have. This was a child trying to build happy memories. On her lawn. What harm could it do? Quickly the women thought about other concerns. What if the child got hurt? Would the parents sue? How could she say that in a way a child could understand?
"You could get hurt," she stated.
"I have my helmet," I answered, "I should be alright." Without hesitation, I asked, "Would you like to try?" The old lady looked surprised. How dare a child ask such a silly question? This question had to top the "where you ever a child?" question. What if she got hurt? But then again, maybe it would be worth a risk. If only she had a bike.
"I don't have a bike." she answered.
"I can lend you mine." I offered her my bike.
"I don't fit it," she answered. With some hesitation she thought. There was a moment of awkward silence.
"You can ride your bike on my land, but please ask me first. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Sounds good to me," I answered.
Some time time after meeting the strange child, the old lady decided she'd get a bike. Just a simple one; single speed, banana shaped seat, basket in the front, with some streamers on each handle bar. It had a nice shiny magenta-pink finish. Mustering all the courage an old woman had, she secured her helmet, knee and ankle pads, sat on her bike, and petaled at top speed down the hill...
"Wheeeee!"
Well this time it was some dream of going back through some place in Appleton, WI. The back yard was flooded like some kind of huge creek. (a little bit of background: these were a string of town homes that had no fences bordering them. I lived there from about age 6 to 10 or 11 years old.) In reality I don't remember any flooding occurring in the back yard of these houses, but it occurs in several dreams enough to make me wonder if it did happen but something I had forgotten. (there was though a creek in a field nearby the houses.)
In some dreams, the flooding is so deep, I can go through with a boat. This time there were all kinds of plants growing in the water. Many of them were invasive species from who knows where. They were choking out the native plants. My goal was to quickly catch some of the native plants and try to put them some place before the weeds could get them. At several points I was reminded how healthy and beautiful everything looked. Even the weeds were admirable, but they were growing fast..almost enough to be able to watch. My time was limited.
The dream shifted to a scene of grandma and I looking through buildings in downtown St. Paul. (in my dreams all cities seem to be painted by a landscape of towering sky-scrapers. Almost never does any city look as it should.) Some reason we were squabbling over a wok. If I were to find a yellow gas burning
stove, she wanted me to give her the wok in exchange for another that could be used on the stove. Whatever....
In the dream, she and I were both looking for apartments. I didn't get to see the outcome, because my dream fizzled out and I woke up at some climatic point... (that always happens?)
Upon waking up and several thought processes later, I was brought back to some time I was riding my bike down some old lady's lawn. Previously I was trying to find some friend's house, but neither she nor I seemed to know what neighborhood she lived in or what her house looked like. I tried to find it based on a sketchy description. Frustrated and to the point of crying, I gave up and headed home. But just in time I glanced over and found a neat looking huge backyard owned by an old lady.
Her lawn composed of a really steep hill. It was well mowed and provided the ideal place to just glide down with ones bike. It gave a great thrill, but not dangerous enough to fall or run into anything. It was just what I needed after a frustrating time. For a moment I forgot how upset and frustrated I was and had a great time.
Whatever the case, the owner wasn't impressed. She came out and had an impressive, over the top, fit. I mean, like as if one couldn't do any crime worse than do a little damage to her great amazing lawn. Forget murder or terrorism... This was the top crime anyone could ever imagine. She yelled out in a fit of rage, "I'm gonna call the cops! Get off my lawn now or I'm gonna call! I'm calling the cops right now!" This lady was shaking both her fists in the air, probably stomping her feet as well.
I didn't really get to study her interesting behavior. Utterly terrified at the the thought of being handcuffed and sent to jail, I petaled my bike as fast as I could out of her lawn and far away from her sight. Miraculously I got home safely.
Even then as a 10 year old, I felt like I did something seriously wrong. It wasn't the fact I trespassed into some old lady's lawn. (legally it is a crime.) It was that I failed to speak up and potentially make a difference in someones life. Once again I was rather cowardly and took the easiest way out, rather than speak out.
I had met this lady before. I was with my dad at the time and we talked. At the time she owned a chunk of land. She was trying to keep it rather neat, didn't like some teenagers coming in with their beer bottles, etc.. I expressed I didn't like them either. (they liked to scare and harass me.) My dad brought up about the developments going on with the field. The DNR had regulations against developing land so many feet from a creek. The land was considered a wetland and was supposed to be protected. The developers were illegally filling in the land so they could develop it later. The lady expressed that she was keeping her land until the value went up so she could sell it. At least that's what I picked up with my 10 year old mind. She was interested in selling it to be developed, with little interest about keeping it for the environment. I may have mentioned to her my concerns, but it was irrelevant to the story.
This was a women that needed something, perhaps a childhood... In my 10 year old mind if I could do this moment over, I would not have fled. Now as an adult I am left wondering, what if... Maybe it would form the basis of an interesting story. If I were to write it in a story it would be something like this:
Gathering up all the courage I had, I walked my bike up the steep hill. Meanwhile the lady continued to hurl threats about calling the cops. Perhaps she did. But for some reason, this time I wasn't afraid. I had a mission to follow. This mission was to help this old lady. Why help an old lady? I didn't know. Something inside me wanted this. I stopped in front of the little old lady. She was barely as tall as me, if not a little shorter. For a moment she stopped yelling and looked surprised.
"Why are you standing here?"
Lost for words, I stood there for a few seconds. She continued, "Didn't you hear me? I'm calling the cops."
"I was just having a little fun," I answered timidly.
"This is my lawn," she responded grumpily, "You're not supposed to be here on someone elses' yard."
"Where you ever a child?" I asked suddenly. The old women was taken aback. What a stupid question. Of course she was. Offended, she frowned even more than she already was.
"What does that have to do with this? Of course I was."
"Have you ever ridden your bike down a hill?" I asked.
"Not someone elses' hill," she answered. For once she looked less angry. Perhaps she was feeling sorry for me. "Don't you have a playground or some swings to play on around your house?"
"No," I answered, "they won't allow it." After all, My dad had tried to install a swing set in our lawn. The landowner forced him to take it down. There were no parks that I could walk to by myself. The closest one was kind of a distance and I would have to cross a busy street.
The old women looked even sorrier than ever. For once she realized, this kid must not have what she used to have. This was a child trying to build happy memories. On her lawn. What harm could it do? Quickly the women thought about other concerns. What if the child got hurt? Would the parents sue? How could she say that in a way a child could understand?
"You could get hurt," she stated.
"I have my helmet," I answered, "I should be alright." Without hesitation, I asked, "Would you like to try?" The old lady looked surprised. How dare a child ask such a silly question? This question had to top the "where you ever a child?" question. What if she got hurt? But then again, maybe it would be worth a risk. If only she had a bike.
"I don't have a bike." she answered.
"I can lend you mine." I offered her my bike.
"I don't fit it," she answered. With some hesitation she thought. There was a moment of awkward silence.
"You can ride your bike on my land, but please ask me first. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Sounds good to me," I answered.
Some time time after meeting the strange child, the old lady decided she'd get a bike. Just a simple one; single speed, banana shaped seat, basket in the front, with some streamers on each handle bar. It had a nice shiny magenta-pink finish. Mustering all the courage an old woman had, she secured her helmet, knee and ankle pads, sat on her bike, and petaled at top speed down the hill...
"Wheeeee!"
Monday, January 11, 2010
Opening Doors for People: Is It a Nice Thing to Do or Just Plain Stupid?
My rant for the day... I was waiting to be picked up by the cab from my Psychiatrist appointment. I didn't feel like sitting down, so I paced around the main entrance of the building. Since I was standing/pacing near the door I felt the impulse to be nice and open the doors for a few people. I figured why not; that it would be rude for me to just stand there in the doorway doing nothing.
Each time was an epic fail. They either opened the next door, ignored me, or looked at me like I was a complete idiot. None of them said thanks. Okay the last one did when I offered to open the door, but turned me down. I left the moment feeling really let down. Yeah I expected to be thanked in some way. It reassures me that I am doing the right thing and it encourages me to continue. If I don't get that verbal feedback, then I feel a bit like what I'm doing must be utterly pointless. Or is it an autistic moment cropping it's ugly head?
Maybe I'm getting something wrong... Okay I guess it's time to do a nerdy google search for social stories and see if there happens to be any "do and "don'ts" to opening doors for people in public buildings. Though right now I don't feel up to it. I just won't open any more doors for people in that same building again. Problem solved.
Each time was an epic fail. They either opened the next door, ignored me, or looked at me like I was a complete idiot. None of them said thanks. Okay the last one did when I offered to open the door, but turned me down. I left the moment feeling really let down. Yeah I expected to be thanked in some way. It reassures me that I am doing the right thing and it encourages me to continue. If I don't get that verbal feedback, then I feel a bit like what I'm doing must be utterly pointless. Or is it an autistic moment cropping it's ugly head?
Maybe I'm getting something wrong... Okay I guess it's time to do a nerdy google search for social stories and see if there happens to be any "do and "don'ts" to opening doors for people in public buildings. Though right now I don't feel up to it. I just won't open any more doors for people in that same building again. Problem solved.
Hello 2010, goodbye typing 00 years.
Very belated post as always. Lately I only go here if there is something on my mind and I can't get it off. I guess that's what venting is and why blogs are good for venting.
2009 finished with so many things I could fill several pages. Anyways here are some highlights of 2009 (the ending months.) It's still a marathon post, but considering that I neglected to update my blog the last several months, I guess it evens out.
Late October?, I got a new job. I work at the Mall of America, in Bloomington, MN. Not only do I work there but I also work for the mall. I find that pretty cool. Even if MOA is no longer the biggest mall in America, it is still considered a landmark of a sort. It's kind of a nifty thing to brag about I guess. Not everyone can say they actually work for such a great place and see it printed on their paycheck stubs. Not to mention one huge thing. I get paid $9 an hour. For an "entry level" job, this is nothing to sneeze at. I work part time, so it's not like I am wealthy by any means, but it's nice that I am able to actually save up for the DSLR camera I really want/need. Plus I can a few other odds and ends that I wouldn't otherwise be able to get. New shoes, bath stuff, accessories, Christmas gifts for my family. Not to mention the basic can't live without items. The list goes on.
I also get the fun chance to meet a variety of people, some of them rather interesting characters (to say the least.) The stuff we sell, IMHO is over priced, taxed up the wazoo, but considering how much employees get paid (full time workers also appear to get some medical benefits) and the rather slow business I've been getting, it probably evens out. So next time you have to pay about $20 for a set of photos and some key chains, maybe this can help put the price into perspective. (cheapest photo deal is presently $10.66, including tax. You get a choice between a 6x8, two 4x6, or 4 wallets. If you find a coupon you can get a single 6x8 print at half the price.)
Nevertheless, I'm hired as a "seasonal" (aka disposable laborer). My time is about to come to an end in a few weeks. I'm hoping that I get to stay longer, but it depends on both performance and if they have the demand, making enough profit to keep any additional workers. Performance wise, I believe I've met expectations, even exceeded them. I'm not worried about my performance, but performance alone may not be enough... On average week days I don't make enough to pay my salary. Weekends, Saturdays I make just enough to get close, break even, or make a small profit for the mall. If other workers are not having better luck then...Oh well at least I have the experience I can put on my resume, and I will likely have good references to add.
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November, we lost a cat. Sahib, my grandma's cat passed away after suddenly developing a urinary blockage. It didn't clear up despite having him catheterized for a week. For a day it looked like he cleared up enough to go home. The next night he blocked up again, and to be rushed to the emergency vet clinic.
The cost to keep him alive for another night was too much for my grandma to pay, not to mention that he would most definitely require surgery and that was in the multiple thousand dollar range. Left up to me, I would have sacrificed all my back paid SSI money that we're keeping in a trust to pay for college (if I can get back in) and paid for the surgery to give him a chance. I believe he would have survived and returned to the same healthy, happy cat we had before post surgery. But, It was not my place to make a decision (though I tried, believe me!). After a rather emotional outburst, I was pretty much forced into allowing my grandma to go through with having him put to sleep. I watched the final moments. It was heart-breaking to watch him struggle to pull the catheter out of his arm before the vet returned.
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*Warning emotional stuff here. You may want to bookmark and read later if you happen to be like me and cry very easily. This is not exactly something you want to read on your work lunch break.*
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Watching a cat die for the first time was quite traumatic. Immediately upon dying, the tail poofs up (like a frightened cat), becomes limp. The pupils dilate. He died with one eye open and one closed. His tail was lowered. I lifted it up and curled it around his back, like he used to naturally hold his tail. Writing this brings me into a crying jag, so I guess I'm not completely over my emotions over this yet... I can't stand to read the rainbow bridge poem, though I liked reading it before. It always brought tears to my eyes upon reading it, but for some reason after having a pet actually cross the bridge, it makes the poem feel a lot more emotional and tough to read. Upon leaving Sahib, my last words to him were "I hope it is true." thinking about the poem. I whispered t a couple times, the words repeating in my head.
He was a great cat. My main regret was not giving him the same attention I give to my cat (Waldo). Some of things that I would do that Waldo hated (or strongly disliked), Sahib loved. it didn't matter to him if I was teasing him or spending serious time. He loved it all the same. For instance if I pet Waldo lightly with my foot, he gets PO ed and lets me know clearly that isn't acceptable behavior. If I pet Sahib with my foot, he just started purring and rolled over, like as if I was petting him with my hand. It made no difference. He loved it the same. If he got enough, he opened his mouth, hung it there for a few minutes, sometimes with a quick meow. He was a very laid back cat, though he was no pushover. He sometimes gave a light warning nip if he felt he had enough. Otherwise he craved attention and was grateful for any he got. If he felt he didn't get his fair share of attention, he sometimes nipped grandma or I in random places, mostly the toes.
I didn't give him as much attention and cuddling as Waldo. Nor did I take as many pictures. I felt I would have a lot more time with him (being the much younger cat at only 4 or 5 years old) and Waldo being older, not as much time. I regret my reasoning. His life showed me a sad lesson; we don't truly know how much time we have with someone.
R.I.P Sahib. I love you and miss you dearly.
The last photo I took of him. I really wish I would have snapped more when he got home, after we thought he overcame his condition.
Shot at the vets office (his regular vet) before going home with two prescription meds and several cans of special diet food. Little did we know he would get blocked up and die the next day without getting a chance to even really use the stuff. Fortunately they allowed us to return the unused meds and food. They gave us back the credit we spent. The hand petting him belongs to my grandma. I couldn't get Sahib to look at the camera.
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2010 opens a new chapter in our lives, in my life. Will it be a good year or a challenging one?
Some big changes are coming up. For one thing I will be moving out into an apartment. I don't know exactly where yet, but it is in the planning stages. I'm a bit worried. There's a lot I'll be giving up. (having a garden one of the main ones. I had great plans on expanding Grandma's garden in the backyard, but that may not happen...). I'm hoping I get to keep Waldo, and be allowed to adopt possibly another cat, ideally a young one to be a companion for Waldo and I.
On a smaller note, I find 2010 to be one really annoying number to type....
2009 finished with so many things I could fill several pages. Anyways here are some highlights of 2009 (the ending months.) It's still a marathon post, but considering that I neglected to update my blog the last several months, I guess it evens out.
Late October?, I got a new job. I work at the Mall of America, in Bloomington, MN. Not only do I work there but I also work for the mall. I find that pretty cool. Even if MOA is no longer the biggest mall in America, it is still considered a landmark of a sort. It's kind of a nifty thing to brag about I guess. Not everyone can say they actually work for such a great place and see it printed on their paycheck stubs. Not to mention one huge thing. I get paid $9 an hour. For an "entry level" job, this is nothing to sneeze at. I work part time, so it's not like I am wealthy by any means, but it's nice that I am able to actually save up for the DSLR camera I really want/need. Plus I can a few other odds and ends that I wouldn't otherwise be able to get. New shoes, bath stuff, accessories, Christmas gifts for my family. Not to mention the basic can't live without items. The list goes on.
I also get the fun chance to meet a variety of people, some of them rather interesting characters (to say the least.) The stuff we sell, IMHO is over priced, taxed up the wazoo, but considering how much employees get paid (full time workers also appear to get some medical benefits) and the rather slow business I've been getting, it probably evens out. So next time you have to pay about $20 for a set of photos and some key chains, maybe this can help put the price into perspective. (cheapest photo deal is presently $10.66, including tax. You get a choice between a 6x8, two 4x6, or 4 wallets. If you find a coupon you can get a single 6x8 print at half the price.)
Nevertheless, I'm hired as a "seasonal" (aka disposable laborer). My time is about to come to an end in a few weeks. I'm hoping that I get to stay longer, but it depends on both performance and if they have the demand, making enough profit to keep any additional workers. Performance wise, I believe I've met expectations, even exceeded them. I'm not worried about my performance, but performance alone may not be enough... On average week days I don't make enough to pay my salary. Weekends, Saturdays I make just enough to get close, break even, or make a small profit for the mall. If other workers are not having better luck then...Oh well at least I have the experience I can put on my resume, and I will likely have good references to add.
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November, we lost a cat. Sahib, my grandma's cat passed away after suddenly developing a urinary blockage. It didn't clear up despite having him catheterized for a week. For a day it looked like he cleared up enough to go home. The next night he blocked up again, and to be rushed to the emergency vet clinic.
The cost to keep him alive for another night was too much for my grandma to pay, not to mention that he would most definitely require surgery and that was in the multiple thousand dollar range. Left up to me, I would have sacrificed all my back paid SSI money that we're keeping in a trust to pay for college (if I can get back in) and paid for the surgery to give him a chance. I believe he would have survived and returned to the same healthy, happy cat we had before post surgery. But, It was not my place to make a decision (though I tried, believe me!). After a rather emotional outburst, I was pretty much forced into allowing my grandma to go through with having him put to sleep. I watched the final moments. It was heart-breaking to watch him struggle to pull the catheter out of his arm before the vet returned.
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*Warning emotional stuff here. You may want to bookmark and read later if you happen to be like me and cry very easily. This is not exactly something you want to read on your work lunch break.*
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Watching a cat die for the first time was quite traumatic. Immediately upon dying, the tail poofs up (like a frightened cat), becomes limp. The pupils dilate. He died with one eye open and one closed. His tail was lowered. I lifted it up and curled it around his back, like he used to naturally hold his tail. Writing this brings me into a crying jag, so I guess I'm not completely over my emotions over this yet... I can't stand to read the rainbow bridge poem, though I liked reading it before. It always brought tears to my eyes upon reading it, but for some reason after having a pet actually cross the bridge, it makes the poem feel a lot more emotional and tough to read. Upon leaving Sahib, my last words to him were "I hope it is true." thinking about the poem. I whispered t a couple times, the words repeating in my head.
He was a great cat. My main regret was not giving him the same attention I give to my cat (Waldo). Some of things that I would do that Waldo hated (or strongly disliked), Sahib loved. it didn't matter to him if I was teasing him or spending serious time. He loved it all the same. For instance if I pet Waldo lightly with my foot, he gets PO ed and lets me know clearly that isn't acceptable behavior. If I pet Sahib with my foot, he just started purring and rolled over, like as if I was petting him with my hand. It made no difference. He loved it the same. If he got enough, he opened his mouth, hung it there for a few minutes, sometimes with a quick meow. He was a very laid back cat, though he was no pushover. He sometimes gave a light warning nip if he felt he had enough. Otherwise he craved attention and was grateful for any he got. If he felt he didn't get his fair share of attention, he sometimes nipped grandma or I in random places, mostly the toes.
I didn't give him as much attention and cuddling as Waldo. Nor did I take as many pictures. I felt I would have a lot more time with him (being the much younger cat at only 4 or 5 years old) and Waldo being older, not as much time. I regret my reasoning. His life showed me a sad lesson; we don't truly know how much time we have with someone.
R.I.P Sahib. I love you and miss you dearly.
The last photo I took of him. I really wish I would have snapped more when he got home, after we thought he overcame his condition.
Shot at the vets office (his regular vet) before going home with two prescription meds and several cans of special diet food. Little did we know he would get blocked up and die the next day without getting a chance to even really use the stuff. Fortunately they allowed us to return the unused meds and food. They gave us back the credit we spent. The hand petting him belongs to my grandma. I couldn't get Sahib to look at the camera.
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2010 opens a new chapter in our lives, in my life. Will it be a good year or a challenging one?
Some big changes are coming up. For one thing I will be moving out into an apartment. I don't know exactly where yet, but it is in the planning stages. I'm a bit worried. There's a lot I'll be giving up. (having a garden one of the main ones. I had great plans on expanding Grandma's garden in the backyard, but that may not happen...). I'm hoping I get to keep Waldo, and be allowed to adopt possibly another cat, ideally a young one to be a companion for Waldo and I.
On a smaller note, I find 2010 to be one really annoying number to type....
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