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A puppy is a marathon not a sprint.

Puppies are a big life changing event. I’d been thinking about getting a dog for a while now, pretty much ever since I moved back to Virginia. I’ve lived with lots of dogs and one of my roommates used to train labs and pet sit so I’m not a total dog novice but I am still a first time dog “owner” (that’s not the right word, but I can’t bring my self to write guardian/human/buddy without feeling like a total weirdo).

Anyway I was having a crappy day Thursday and decided to knock off “early” at 6 PM and visit the dogs at the local shelter. I’ve swing by a few times in the past but hadn’t met anyone I liked. 

This go ‘round I met “Riley”… and kind of feel in love when he crawled in my lap with those big dinosaur paws of his - what’s more this kids got swag. 

Still who knew that they would let me have a puppy in less than 48 hours. I feel like I’ve skipped 9 months of labor and now I have a puppy.

He’s adorable and a lot of work.

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The “worst”

Note to non-native speakers:

"The worst" when used as an adjective is used to describe mildly bad situations. These situations are never in fact “the worst”.  

Examples:

Correct: “Wearing flip flops when it rains in New York is the worst.” 

Correct: “Getting whole milk when I explicitly asked for soy is the worst.”

Incorrect: “Wow after watching CNN, I have to say the conflict in the Middle East is the worst.”

Incorrect: My dad’s funeral was the worst.

Since only about half of Americans understand irony, contextual clues may need to be applied when determining whether the meaning is “tongue-in-cheek” or simply indicates that the speaker lacks perspective.

Good luck!

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Objectively different. Subjectively whatever.

Wouldn’t it be nice if our differences didn’t make us feel different but instead made us feel special? 

Note to self:

  • I am special because of the off center mole on my nose.
  • I am special because I’ve had three surgeries and the scars to prove it.
  • I am special because I gravitate to the underdogs, the overlooked and the meek.
  • I am special because I feel “too much”, because I cry when I feel  it.
  • I am special because as hard as I get hit (metaphorically) - I bend but I don’t break.
  • I am special because I have been poor, shabby, and unwanted (and sometimes still feel that way).
  • I am special because I have learned from the lessons of my mother’s abuse, I yell when I am assaulted, I file police reports, I don’t take shit, and I’m ok with being alone until I can find someone I love who can handle and love that about me.
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For the record.

Anyone who believes sexual orientation is something you can change has never been a single woman in New York. When I think back on all the amazing wonderful, sexy, awesome, smart, athletic, kind, single female friends of mine and compare them to the guys I dated / knew at the time – if I could have flipped a switch and chosen a team there is no way I would be straight. 

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unedited

I am missing thoughts that I had in my head this morning.

I have not be as good as I want to be with capturing my thoughts locking them down on paper in reality – no not nearly as good as I would wish. 

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I keep coming back to the thought that there are a finite number of truths. A finite number of lessons to be learned about the world, our selves and reality – immutable and changeless even relative to everything.

It recalls my thoughts to solid pale stone oak branches and sturdy bones – defining me but not limiting me, supporting my reach for the stars.

I dream of a massive architecture of mineral veins and intricate lattice - a stone tree - a spiritual monument against which truth and understanding vibrate.

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emotional rollercoasters

I didn’t realize how worried I had been until I left my mother in the hospital, and tears started rolling down my eyes - relieved that she was through surgery and doing as well as could possibly be expected. I overheard the technician quietly ask my mother “Is she your only child?” — I’m not sure what that meant, as the oldest was I supposed to be tougher, less mushy? 

I took the stairs not wanting to share a crowded elevator with tear stained cheeks.

It’s been a weird week, in truth it’s been a weird few months. So many people, friends and loved ones have been visited by death, my stepdad’s father, my friend’s son, the sister of another friend and last night I received word that my uncle went into a coma Saturday and passed away Tuesday night. 

It’s unbelievable. I’m not entirely sure how I feel or if I do.