I'm Pissed

The human race in general dissapoints, disgusts, and infuriates me when it comes to "adopting" or "purchasing" dogs. Or any animal. But we're talking about dogs.

One major reason the ACC has to euthanize as many animals as it does everyday is because there are two unbelievable things taking place:
First, insolent human beings who have the right to think (or not think) and act for themselves take on puppies like they buy skinny jeans, or a James Blunt CD, or a Razor (remember when that was the new coolest phone?). It's a lifetime commitment made on an adernaline fueled whim because "omg it'll be soooo fun to take it everywhere" and "pitbull puppies are just soooo cute" and "taking your dog into bars is a really great conversation piece". Then they realize what they've actually done a few months down the line, or when that puppy becomes a full sized dog they've thoughtlessly crammed into their apartment, or, you know, it didn't evolve into the bad ass killing machine they'd hoped...and they give up. Wouldn't it be awesome if parents just gave up babies every time they became toddlers? I think that would feel awesome. It would feel awesome to know that someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally realized they didn't plan adequately for you and refuses to compromise their own comfort, and has decided to send you to a cement cage where you'll be gassed in 5 days if no one thinks you're "good enough". I think that if humans had to come face to face with being gassed they might use the brains they were born with and really asess what it means to own a dog. Any breed of dog.
The second thing is that the other side of insolent human beings, the ones who think they're ready to "extend their family" or "open their hearts" to a new dog, want, and seek out, just that: new dogs. Undammaged goods. Whatever that means. Dogs in shelters like the ACC are being killed because people aren't taking them. And people aren't taking them because they're going to pet stores and "backyard breeders" and legitimate breeders who charge you 1500 dollars for a dog. Because people want purbred dogs (because they look better? Because they make YOU look better?). Because people don't feel the need to educate themselves about breeds and think that dropping 2g's for a new weimareiner puppy is a safer choice than paying 50 bucks for a pit bull that's about to have his last meal. (you all got upset when you watched "Dancer in the Dark", come on). When I was working with dogs I had to be supportive to our clients about the unfortunate means they went through to get their expensive pets because it was my job. And now that I don't have that job, and I live in a city that is so infested with animals who have nowhere to go and the morons that ignore them, I really don't have to be polite about it anymore. You just bought a Yorkie for 500 bucks from some apartment breeder on craigslist? Awesome. Let me show you all the dogs that died today because people like you take animals in selfishly. Little living accesories who's primary function is to make you look good. Oh, you didn't know that guy was a breeder & believed he was giving it up due to an unknown allergy? Well, I didn't know a tomato was a fruit at one point, but I had a hunch, did a little research, and found the truth. It is a fruit!

As I am now actually embarking into the process of adopting my own dog, I have found I need to check myself at several points. I feel very firmly that the right thing to do is find my companion from a place that needs help. Not in a "Posh Pets Rescue" where he's never going anywhere. Not from another human who's abusing & neglecting the animals they breed. And that I don't need to be so picky about the sex and breed of what it is, but only specific about qualities that will ensure it is a smart life choice for both the dog, and myself. I know I say that shi tzu's aren't my thing, and poodles are a little ridiculous, but ultimately I would take either of those dogs if the match was right.

I know that I sound like one of those ranty crazy craigslist people that use a million exclamation points every time they say something no one wants to hear. But I guess that's ok. I haven't been able to sleep for the past couple of hours because this issue makes me so (...passionate my father would say?). Every time I have to explain to someone why adopting an animal from a high kill shelter is the best thing to do I feel like I'm explaining the reasons why heroin is the wrong thing to do. It's pretty self explanatory. Should require no explanation.

And I know that once I finally have my own dog my entire perspective on things will shift somewhat. But I anticipate that. And that anticipation weights the fact that I am going to try my best to do the right thing, in the right way, at the right time. I just wish more people would too.

Build Ups are Hard to Break Down

I had a conversation recently with a friend about how vein and egocentric it is to ever post a blog and think anyone gives a S, and though I am in agreeance, I write one anyway. Seems I don't care. Or don't believe anyone else reads the damn thing, which is more the truth but still looks like not caring in the end. Anyway, this is not the point.

The point is that I have waited so many years of my life to get a dog. And when I say "so many" I mean a lot of years. Anyone who knows me knows the vast number of times my friends and ex-boyfriends have had to pull me back from the ledge of adopting some wonderful thing because I felt I couldn't wait any longer. This has been several hundred times. I have tried to convince myself of a lot of things. (and thank you, p.s. to those of you that won the argument each time). Eventually I got to the point where I knew it would happen when it was right, and I was ok with waiting. Well, now I'm done waiting.

After finally getting to a stable enough place in my life where I know beyond any certainty that I am capable of raising a dog, I took the leap and applied for one. One I have been watching for the past month. One I felt that cheesy and indescribable connection with. And so far? I hear nothing. These have been some of the longest 72 hours of my life. And I know if it doesn't work out, it's not meant to, But the question still remains. How do you break down the build up of something that's been coming for so long? How do you remove stock from the thing you placed so much in to begin with? Though it was wrong of me to put so many eggs in one basket with this particular dog, I inadvertently did it anyway, and now here I am faced with the reality of what I will do if they never let me meet him.

So time is going nowhere. And I'm trying not to bubble over. And it's a big deal to no one but me who is trying to find new animals to distract myself; new dogs I know I could love just as much. Though I could never, ever, love a dog as a replacement for another. There can be no sloppy seconds in the animal kingdom for me. And with that gross statement, I return to my original point; that build ups are hard to break down. And I leave it at that for now.

I'll be the Idiot on the Bike

Guys always say that girls on bike are automatically more cute and appealing. For a lot of guys I know it's one of the bigger immediate turn ons out there. Well, America, you haven't seen me on my bike.

Last week I bought my first bike since Little Pink Bike (RIP). Those of you who knew Little Pink Bike know that it was actually a children's bike I bought at the Salvation Army in Troy (again, RIP) and rode passionately around campus. Most often at night, listening to inspiring music on my discman, most often once everyone was asleep. Little Pink Bike was sent to the college graveyard one summer (thanks, Bill) and I never thought of replacing it.

Well, last Friday thanks to Sena's prompting and fancy footwork I took a big kid step forward, and bought a grown up bicycle. It looks good. It feels good. It IS good. The day I bought it I also rode it to work. That meant I went through Bushwick, Williamsburg, and over the bridge into the East Village. Really not that far, all told.

But for me, surrounded by friends who have become avid bike people in both Seattle and New York, that ride marked the first time I have ridden a bicycle in any city, ever. And though I had to push it part way over the hill on the bridge, I successfully rode it all the way home without stopping in the morning after the bar closed.

It was a huge deal for me. Bikes in cities terrify me. Vehicles terrify me. I can't say as though I feel comfortable enough ridding through the crowded streets of Brooklyn by myself yet, but at least I know it's possible. It's exciting to know that maybe I can grow into someone who is capable of traveling on two hot wheels.

As of yet, I can barely ride the thing. This is where my original point comes back in. There is nothing attractive about me on a bike. My eyes are wild with caution and delicate fear, my face is red and sweaty (red cabbage head), I put the breaks on all the time (& they squeak REALLY loudly), and I wobble all over the place when I slow down. It's like a baby deer that doesn't know how to walk yet. Fawns are majestic and beautiful, but wobbly knock-kneed baby deer are just funny.

Therefore, it is embarrassing to ride around in areas populated by hip people on bikes. Because I manage to make girls on bikes an anti-fetish.

Regardless of this, I am sucking up my pride (and unwavering fear of getting smashed by a car) and riding into work again today. Hopefully this time I won't have to stop. Even if I do, and even if anyone laughs at me, it is rewarding to know I am doing something that is not only fun, but also efficient, healthy, and eco-friendly. And getting over my fear of something that has poked at me for the past seven years.

So there. I officially ride a bicycle.

Smoking is Bad For You

I think I'm going to throw up. Right now I don't feel like I'm kidding, though in ten minutes I hope it feels like a joke. This has nothing to do with smoking.

I have read more articles lately on the negative effects of smoking than ever before. People really want you to stop. They tell you you look old and ugly prematurely, get diseased, and then die. Well shit, we should build a colony somewhere where cigarettes just don't exist and then we'll all live to be old and tight skinned and pretty. That sounded bitter. Here's my suggestion: just don't start smoking. And before you think about that choice too much also decide never to read your old letters or look at old pictures or find your past on the internet or in the boxes you packed when you were younger. Even if "when you were younger" means six months ago. Because it's like opening a door to one of the big photo studios in the morning, where, for the rest fo the day the music floods the hallway and pokes at you, sitting in that chair doing nothing, reminding you of the consequences of all your own descisions, and that "my humps" never was and never will be a legitimate song.

The Long and the Short of It

Is I can't talk about it now.

A friend and I were having a conversation - at work - about meeting people. I turned to her, with a great deal of sincerity, to try and understand why I was not meeting people, or a certain kind of people, or adventure people, or any people. Was it me, I asked. And she turned to me, with a great deal of sincerity, and asked "could it be that you are working seven days a week?" I looked at her, confused. "Oh, that's right, it's because you're working seven days a week." And then she smiled at me and patted me on the back, or head, or something, and we continued talking about the adventure people, or any kind of people she had met that gave her fodder for interesting conversation.

And that pretty much sums it up for me. I'm not complaining, just reflecting on the fact that aside from nominally being able to reflect on the events and psychological goings on in my life & take in the changes, my interactions are fairly limited to the stylists and photo assistants that ask me to get them hangers and packing tape, and the drunk yahoos I enable who think I'm a lesbian because I have a tattoo and like to drink whiskey.

Somewhere in the cycle of working, eating, sleeping, and occasionally watching something my roommate has Tvoed, there are a lot of things I would like to cram in. Like, I graduated from college. That's a lot to think about. Like, I'm trying to get a dog. That's a lot to do. Like, I want to finish this apartment. That's even more of a lot to do. Like, there are relationships that need mending and tending because they are important. That's a lot of inspiring and complicated playlists to make. Like, oh you know, everything else, that just to mention creates such an overwhelming and far reaching feeling of excitement & confusion & fear & all those things people feel when there are a lot of big things to have feelings about, that I would rather not sit down and think about them all at one time. Let alone write tham on the internet so that there is some sort of referential checklist I can go back to and feel like tackling these giant goals is like cleaning your room.

One. Step. At. A. Time. This is just big kid life, isn't it? Baz Lurhman was trying to prepare us all for this in his inspiring speech about wearing sunscreen, wasn't he? Damn it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go drink some beers on a roof, and shortly, go to work.