Turn Signals and Boxes

This is a rambler, folks.

My life is like a TV show.

There are 2 kinds of tv shows out there: the kind that have arch stories that take place over many episodes (like Gossip Girl, Once Upon a Time, or Grimm), and those that have stories that are completely contained in one episode (like Gilligan's Island, Hey Arnold, or Green Acres).

My life is like the latter.

No matter how hard I try, I feel like nothing really changes in my life. There are things I would really like to change, too, like: living in an apartment, not having and children, or eating cereal for dinner. I get to critical points where I get excited and think: "yeah, now things are going to really get shaken up around here!" but alas, I lie to myself every time. By the end of the episode, I am always back to square one: living in a box, alone, and eating LIFE even though I'm not living it.

At least, that's how I feel sometimes. But in another light, my life is ALWAYS changing.

Of the people who I see on a daily basis, I met none of them before August, 2012. I have a dog now. I don't share my bedroom with another lady, and! I have a REAL job!

I don't know if it's good or bad, but there it is. When changes DOES happen, it rarely happens with warning. I feel like almost every change that I anticipate in life goes a different way than I thought it would, and changes that I think I'm making happen just don't happen at all. There is no point in using your turn signal if you're already in the next lane, nor if you're not actually going to make any turns.

It all feels so pointless and dolor.

Do you remember The Truman Show? There's this one part where he tries to get out of town, and every road out is blocked by something. At the end of the day, he has to go back home. Do you ever feel like Truman? Like everything is fake?

Sometimes, when I'm in a room with florescent lights, I feel like I am not in reality, but rather in a painting or a dream. It just doesn't seem real. Then I wonder, what is reality, anyhow? How can I be sure that I'm in it? Have you ever asked yourself that question?

Sometimes I think, "I just need a new hobby," or, "it's this weather!" but then, at other times, I realize: I live inside a box. That just isn't natural.

Then I go outside for a little bit. I might even take a drive out into the mountains or to the river. I sit outside for a little bit, and things start to fall back into place.

We just weren't meant to live in boxes.

Songs of War

I have a confession to make: I have seen every episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation. Yes, I am a closet Trekker. Not only that, but on some unfortunately uncontrollable level, it has shaped my world view. That's what the media does to children, okay?

I think I would hate this show if I watched it for the first time today. But I didn't; I watched it for the first time when I was a toddler. We watched it as a family. It was fascinating. I didn't choose the Trekkie life, the Trekkie life chose me!

Star Trek does this thing where it makes cultural references, be they pop or other, as if they were so impactful that they would still be germane 400 years from now.

Confession #2: I love Celtic music and culture almost as much as I love my own culture.

When I was a little girl (again with the youth!) I decided to get a tiny, little bit obsessed about a few things: Prince William, Thundercats, ancient Egypt, and Celtic music/culture.

In fact, I recently went to a Flogging Molly concert, but that's another post altogether.

As an English teacher, of course I love listening for and watching the Shakespeare references in Star Trek, but I really got excited when they sang "The Minstrel Boy" in this episode, because it is a slightly more obscure reference. I love this song. It is so sad, so noble, and so beautiful.

Gotta love those text-to-text connections!

Nostalgic Acrostic

Here is an acrostic I wrote as a model for my creative writing class today:

Barnhart

Behind the house,
A swing set dances:
Revolving with the rhythm of children's legs
Never caring that the day is closing,
Here now, but gone tomorrow.
Are they going to
Realize before it ends
That childhood is golden?


And here's one that I wrote as an example before class started:

Heidi
Hey man, what's your problem?
Everyone is asking.
If you want to change your life,
Do it!
I'm serious!

I'm Sorry, But...

I’m sorry, but

I couldn’t help myself

I saw your cookies, sitting there

They called to me

I had to taste

I had to know what it was like

To eat your cookies.

And so I did.

That’s why they’re all gone.

I’m sorry, but I have to say

My stomach is not.

Sorry, that is.

Poop!

Poop.

My new dog, a 9 pound cairn terrier/yorkie mix, is not housebroken. After I got her, I waited for her to poop. I wanted to get her outside before she actually did it, so that I could take her out and start training her to poop outside. She waited, too. She didn't poop for a day and a half! Then, while I was getting ready for church Sunday morning, she finally pooped.

And then she ate it.

I walked back into my bedroom after doing my makeup to find my little lady chomping down on her own doo-doo. I scolded her, and took away the poop. Then I ran a google search. Apparently, it's pretty common for dogs to eat poop: be it their own or someone else's, they just seem to like eating poop.

So gross.

On another note, let me tell you, this new dog is already a better fit for me than the last one. She gets along with the other dog in our house, and she already walks beside me, not pulling on the lead and walking directly in front of me. She likes strangers, because they pet her. She doesn't bark.

She is so little that she can't jump up on my bed. So, she sleeps under my bed or on her doggie bed. She seems to really like her pillow.

She has a lot of work to do, but I feel confident that we can work together and she will be a good dog. I am pretty happy about that!

I am working on thinking of a name for her. Here is my list of names I have thought of and am considering:

• Pookie
• Kiki
• Mag Light
• Bagel
• Arrow
• Virginia Woolf (Woolf for short)

Which name do you like best?

Happy Pi Day!

I taught writing free verse poetry in my creative writing class today, and I modeled writing one about Pi, which isn't very good, but may entertain you:

Pi
Oh boy, it's pie!
Yum, yum.
Wait.
This isn't pie?
Pi?
What is pi?
So you're telling me
I'm eating math?
Yuck.
I might be sick.
What would it look like
if numbers were
vomit?
3.14159265 . . .

A New Way to Break My Heart

I had to take my dog (of a little over one week) back to the humane society. She tried to bite a couple of people, and I didn't see it getting any better --- in fact, the longer she stayed with me, the more territorial she seemed to become and less likely to "warm up" to strangers coming to visit us.

It broke my heart.

I cried all Sunday night after realizing that I just couldn't keep her. I called my parents, and they helped me see that it was the right decision for both me and Tilly, but it still was very sad. On Monday, I actually literally felt like a rock was resting on top of my heart organ. I hated that.

When I gathered her up at my apartment after work, I cried and cried. On the way to the shelter, I cried. I think the guy in the truck behind me at the stoplight to get onto the freeway saw me (he looked concerned, and I felt embarrassed, but still couldn't stop crying).

I thought that by the time I got to the shelter, all of my tears would be gone, but no. I continued to cry. In fact, I made a fool of myself. I even started hyperventilating. I tried so hard to stop, because I was in public now, but I just couldn't. The workers at the shelter were very kind, but I could tell they were a little freaked out by my socially unnacceptable behavior, In fact, so was I.

I sort of regret it, taking her back. I miss her already. I wish she was with me when I go home, and I wish she needed me to take her out in the morning and in the evening, and walk with me. But, then I remind myself that things were not going to get better, and I would end up with a dog who bites.

This way, I can try again to find the right dog for me.

I don't know why I want a dog so badly, but I can tell you, I haven't felt this strongly about wanting something for a long time. It hurts, but it also feels good to want something and pursue it.

I think that might be a part of human nature: the right to obsess over something for a period of time. I feel more alive for having a small, controled obsession. I feel passionate and emotional in a way I have not felt before, at least not in recent memory.

Then again, maybe it's bad. Maybe I am losing control. Maybe I am going a little crazy.

What do you think? And, do you ever obsess over something?

I Just Want to Stop Saying Goodbye to Everyone.

I had this dream once where I went to one of my sister's basketball games, and I was talking to a lady who I had never met before, but we were fast friends. I suddenly realized that I was dreaming, and that it wasn't real. I asked her, "is this a dream?" and she replied, "yes, it is."

So, I asked her, "are you not real, then?"

and she said, "I don't know. I hope I'm real."

I told her, "Yes, I hope you are, too. Will we ever meet again, once I wake up?"

"I don't know. It's hard to say."

"I hope so."

"I hope so, too."

"Are you scared?" I asked.

"Yes, a little."

And I've wondered how she's doing, ever since then, and we haven't met again.

I Got A Puppy and Now I'm Freaking Out A Little

Last week I went a little crazy.

I'm a pretty even-headed person, and I don't normally get obsessed about anything, but last week, I couldn't get dogs out of my head.

I've wanted to get a dog for the longest time. When I was in college, I dreamed about taking our family dog, Bruno, out to school with me (what a terrible idea that was! He is a psychologically damaged senior German shepherd. I highly doubt he would have adjusted well to apartment life. But It was only a dream, okay?). But, I definitely didn't have time for a dog during college. I was working two jobs (about 30-35 hours a week) and carrying 15-17 credits, so I didn't really have time for pooping let alone taking care of a dog.

All that has changed. I have time now. Actually, I have a lot of time on my hands, and in my experience, time makes people do crazy things.

Still, I felt compelled to wait for the picket-fence life to get a dog. It is a big commitment, and I enjoy being foot-loose and fancy-free. Most of the time. The problem is, I've started to wonder if I'll ever be happy with a house in the suburbs and a very free daily schedule. In fact, I'm beginning to seriously doubt not only that I'll ever be able to have that life, but also that I would ever enjoy that life. I still wanted a dog. Of course I wanted a dog!

So I started visiting shelters.

I found Tilly at the Utah Humane Society. She is a black cocker spaniel, and about a year and a half old. She is very sweet, and I am working on her training. She came already house broken and knowing "sit" and "come." She is catching on to "down" (lay down) and as of yesterday, heels nicely.

But she barks at people, and other dogs, and sometimes when we're inside she growls at my roommate's dog. Sometimes I wonder what I've gotten myself into.

What was I thinking?!