it just gets worse as you keep going...
welcome to my world.
me: what doing?
John: fighting with my ex via text.
can we make love
me: um, no. i don't even know you, and making love is one of those things i only do with folks I know.
John: what about just sex?
me: maybe, but that would take some more negotiation.
why would i want to have sex with you?
John: because i am nice, and i really need the intimacy right now
me: I'm sure you're very nice, and I'm sure intimacy would feel good, but you're going to need to do a better job of salesmanship than that.
see, i have this terribly fragile yet well-defended little heart, and it's attached to the rest of me, and while I'm as sex-positive as the next girl, i also really don't need an ass-kicking right now.
John: ass kicking? you mean physically?
me: physically and emotionally
John: i dont want to hurt you. i promise you. that is not what i want
i swear on everything.
me: I'm sure you don't. However, me-getting-hurt results from me-being-inauthentic. and while meaningless sex might feel good, i learned in the last week that for me right now, any sex with a boy is bound to have strange head-trips that go along with it.
(my, that's a lot of modifiers)
John: you had sex with a guy in the last week then?
me: not exactly.
John: pleas give me a chance. i really need you to make an exception for me.
me: my sexuality is fairly complicated, and exceptions just don't happen.
John: this is what i need, i really do
me: ever wondered what I might need?
sometimes sex is about what both people need. but you know that. you're a smart boy.
[Ed. note - actually, he's not. but I'm nice.]
John: it is give and take, i know that. but thats what i need, what you need i can try to give also
me: i don't know about that.... I'm not sure if anyone but me can give me what I need right now.
John: then at least help me, if you wont let me help you
please, understand
me: (that's what I mean about authenticity)
sorry, hon. I don't have the energy right now to help anyone but me.
John: all you have to do is lay there
i swear
me: ew.
no.
John: sigh
its not ew
me: yeah, actually, it is.
girl laying there (not enjoying herself), guy fucking her, getting off... that's exploitative and icky.
now, maybe if she's getting paid, it would be different, but the way you've brought it up, it's fuckin' using her body for your own needs, and that's gross.
John: ok. so you dont want me
me: not particularly, no.
John: ok.
me: good luck, man.
John: nothing can help me
me: somehow, i don't feel sorry for you right now. i kinda feel like i should go take a shower.
John: thanks
me: well, you tell a total stranger that all she has to do is lay there...
John: i was trying to make it easy for you, but i said it all wrong. so
me: one in four girls has been raped, y'know.
John: yea, every female in my family has.
me: sex is more complicated than it should be, and it's not fair to anyone, but there it is.
John: leave the rape thing alone, that has nothing to do with me
me: if that's the case, you should know better.
except when you present sex as something someone can do "for" you...
John: i dont feel sorry for you just because youve been raped
me: i could really care less.
John: i know youre used to getting your way with that excuse but
it does not work on me
me: hey, man. I never said i was raped, and I never said i wasn't.
John: i dont want to have sex with you anymore.
me: well, that's good.
John: have a nice life.
me: you too. good luck.
for fuck's sake. is that really how people think sex works? i like to think that this particular guy is just more inept than most, and that somewhere out there exist men who don't think of sex as something like shopping for socks (maybe they're hanging out with the girls who manage that balance of independence and mutual support that's so hard to come by in dyke-world.)
if anyone knows where I can find them, that would be great.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
hipp(it)y hop
Point # 1:
I had the best first date of my ever last night with hippy boy... laundromats, wine, garlic pizza, beer.
It was not at all what I expected and I didn't want it to end.
He's great, and smart, and slightly odd, and he smells nice, and I felt safe and normal and understood and stuff.
I don't know about sexy, though. I don't think I was very sexy. Which is kinda shitty.
I'm all sorts of crushed out and don't know what to do with it. He's exactly the person i was looking for.
Also, I look like I was recently wrestling with a lamprey.
Point # 2:
Racecar boy and I went out to the hippity hoppity bar tonight, and as we were discussing gender and how I frequently discomfit people, I made a point of smiling at and making eye contact with the biggest 'thuggiest' guy in the room.
I find that it's easier to confront these things right away rather than try to hide from something that could be uncomfy.
And he'd been staring at me for half an hour, so I thought I'd give him the opportunity to say something.
He took me up on it, waltzed on over and said "hey man, what's your problem?!?"
I said "nothin, man - I'm just having a good time"
he looked me up and down.
"what's your gender?"
"I'm a girl. Wanna see my ID?"
"yeah, right. and I'm LDS."
"No way, man... I really am a girl." (I pull back my button-down and try to show some boob through my t-shirt. This seemed like a good idea at the time.)
he turns to uber-male racecar boy sitting next to me.
"You a girl too?"
"No, man. I'm a guy."
much looking at my chest and RCBs crotch.
"uh, can I see those?" (gesturing at my boobs)
"No way, man, I don't even know you." (said with my best knock-em-dead grin)
blink.
blink.
(oh shit, I think. this could go a couple of different ways. I'm not liking my odds right now.)
he looks me right in the eye, and goes from stony glare to big genuine smile.
"Hey girl, you're all right. I'm the owner here, and you have a good time, okay? I'm glad you came in."
"thanks, man. I'm having a great time. nice place you have."
geez.
now i have to go theorize race and gender, and try to articulate why I feel safer showing my boobs to a black man with a gun than I do to an abercrombied-out frat boy.
he gets mad props for asking the question everyone else was (possibly) thinking.
and now I'm exhausted.
I'd really like hippy boy to call me back.
I had the best first date of my ever last night with hippy boy... laundromats, wine, garlic pizza, beer.
It was not at all what I expected and I didn't want it to end.
He's great, and smart, and slightly odd, and he smells nice, and I felt safe and normal and understood and stuff.
I don't know about sexy, though. I don't think I was very sexy. Which is kinda shitty.
I'm all sorts of crushed out and don't know what to do with it. He's exactly the person i was looking for.
Also, I look like I was recently wrestling with a lamprey.
Point # 2:
Racecar boy and I went out to the hippity hoppity bar tonight, and as we were discussing gender and how I frequently discomfit people, I made a point of smiling at and making eye contact with the biggest 'thuggiest' guy in the room.
I find that it's easier to confront these things right away rather than try to hide from something that could be uncomfy.
And he'd been staring at me for half an hour, so I thought I'd give him the opportunity to say something.
He took me up on it, waltzed on over and said "hey man, what's your problem?!?"
I said "nothin, man - I'm just having a good time"
he looked me up and down.
"what's your gender?"
"I'm a girl. Wanna see my ID?"
"yeah, right. and I'm LDS."
"No way, man... I really am a girl." (I pull back my button-down and try to show some boob through my t-shirt. This seemed like a good idea at the time.)
he turns to uber-male racecar boy sitting next to me.
"You a girl too?"
"No, man. I'm a guy."
much looking at my chest and RCBs crotch.
"uh, can I see those?" (gesturing at my boobs)
"No way, man, I don't even know you." (said with my best knock-em-dead grin)
blink.
blink.
(oh shit, I think. this could go a couple of different ways. I'm not liking my odds right now.)
he looks me right in the eye, and goes from stony glare to big genuine smile.
"Hey girl, you're all right. I'm the owner here, and you have a good time, okay? I'm glad you came in."
"thanks, man. I'm having a great time. nice place you have."
geez.
now i have to go theorize race and gender, and try to articulate why I feel safer showing my boobs to a black man with a gun than I do to an abercrombied-out frat boy.
he gets mad props for asking the question everyone else was (possibly) thinking.
and now I'm exhausted.
I'd really like hippy boy to call me back.
Monday, February 19, 2007
well now; isn't that interesting
I happened to stumble across this fascinating little article while I was drooling over lovingly restored /5s, and liveaboards in Juneau with Force 10 2 burner propane stoves and roller furling headsails, and jobs for philosophers in places like Prague and Glasgow.
... sigh ...
So, anyways, I'm strangely drawn to the idea of applied ontology, but I think the cog sci folks are getting it wrong. Here - read this:
An ontology research pipeline
Mike Uschold
Boeing Phantom Works, Seattle, WA, USA
(I snipped the first four sections because, well, they don't make much sense. You can go read them on your own at this website, if you really want: http://iospress.metapress.com/media/eafy7jvwvmdjwb0mhm2u/contributions/0/g/a/p/0gap235ukd5e9mge.pdf)
5. Summary and conclusion
I look to Applied Ontology to support the development of a research pipeline that disseminates
academic research results into industry and government. I call attention to various important issues that need to be addressed. First, we must clearly articulate the value propositions for using ontologies. What are the business cases? Under what circumstances do they apply? Benefits need to be demonstrated in a convincing way. This requires progress in evaluating specific techniques and tools used in ontology-based solutions. Where possible, evaluation should be done using a scientific methodology, and in all cases the range of applicability of approaches should be made clear. Limitations as well as strengths need to be highlighted. Ontologies need to be engineered for particular purposes to ensure successful deployment, yet they also should be re-usable as much as possible. Tools and infrastructure to support
the creation, use, and maintenance of ontologies must be created and evaluated. Finally, I call attention to the challenge of living with ambiguity and exploring the limits of what kinds of semantic processing can be automated.
[Applied Ontology 1 (2005) 13–16 13; IOS Press]
Can you see why I think this is a little screwy?
Problem 1: From academia to government? Since when have philosophers (especially ontologists) performed a prescriptive role in civil discourse? Anyone? Why would ontologists be especially well-equipped to tell folks in business and government what sort of ontology to adopt? Why should anyone listen?
Problem 2: Since when do I need to articulate the "business cases" of an ontology as a criteria for determining their value? Is he really saying that the best ontology is the one that gives me the ability to describe the most stuff in the way that gets me the most items of value? Is cash value a concept applicable to an ontology? That just seems flat-out wrong - I can't arbitrarily assign that sailboat or this motorcycle an ontological status of "mine" (or owned-by-me, if you'd rather), because it simply isn't true.
Problem 3: Evaluation should be done using "a scientific methodology," apparently. Doesn't seems to matter which one. No questions about the sort of ontological assumptions inherent in any of the methodologies one has at one's disposal.
Problem 4: "Ontologies need to be engineered for particular purposes to ensure successful deployment, yet they also should be re-usable as much as possible. Tools and infrastructure to support the creation, use, and maintenance of ontologies must be created and evaluated." Say what?
So ontologies are like parachutes? Or old german sports cars? Or bombs?
Ontologies don't seem inuitively to be the sort of things which one engineers, or deploys, or sends to the shop for maintenance with some sort of conceptual socket wrench - it's a strangely mechanical way to speak about an organic process. (Organic meaning "arising in a non-silicon brain/mind" as opposed to mechanical meaning "arising in a constructed apparatus." An arbitrary distinction, true... but bear with me.)
As far as an infrastructure to support my ontology, that would have to be an epistemology and a metaphysics... now there are some under-studied fields of applied philosophy.
I applied ontology gives you a bunch of engineers and cog sci folks sitting around the lab grumbling about how to get their computer programs to talk to one another, then what would a room full of applied epistemologists look like?
A library? a Mensa meeting?
I don't think you could get two applied metaphysicians into a room together, but if you could, it would probably look like something out of a Beckett play.
... sigh ...
So, anyways, I'm strangely drawn to the idea of applied ontology, but I think the cog sci folks are getting it wrong. Here - read this:
An ontology research pipeline
Mike Uschold
Boeing Phantom Works, Seattle, WA, USA
(I snipped the first four sections because, well, they don't make much sense. You can go read them on your own at this website, if you really want: http://iospress.metapress.com/media/eafy7jvwvmdjwb0mhm2u/contributions/0/g/a/p/0gap235ukd5e9mge.pdf)
5. Summary and conclusion
I look to Applied Ontology to support the development of a research pipeline that disseminates
academic research results into industry and government. I call attention to various important issues that need to be addressed. First, we must clearly articulate the value propositions for using ontologies. What are the business cases? Under what circumstances do they apply? Benefits need to be demonstrated in a convincing way. This requires progress in evaluating specific techniques and tools used in ontology-based solutions. Where possible, evaluation should be done using a scientific methodology, and in all cases the range of applicability of approaches should be made clear. Limitations as well as strengths need to be highlighted. Ontologies need to be engineered for particular purposes to ensure successful deployment, yet they also should be re-usable as much as possible. Tools and infrastructure to support
the creation, use, and maintenance of ontologies must be created and evaluated. Finally, I call attention to the challenge of living with ambiguity and exploring the limits of what kinds of semantic processing can be automated.
[Applied Ontology 1 (2005) 13–16 13; IOS Press]
Can you see why I think this is a little screwy?
Problem 1: From academia to government? Since when have philosophers (especially ontologists) performed a prescriptive role in civil discourse? Anyone? Why would ontologists be especially well-equipped to tell folks in business and government what sort of ontology to adopt? Why should anyone listen?
Problem 2: Since when do I need to articulate the "business cases" of an ontology as a criteria for determining their value? Is he really saying that the best ontology is the one that gives me the ability to describe the most stuff in the way that gets me the most items of value? Is cash value a concept applicable to an ontology? That just seems flat-out wrong - I can't arbitrarily assign that sailboat or this motorcycle an ontological status of "mine" (or owned-by-me, if you'd rather), because it simply isn't true.
Problem 3: Evaluation should be done using "a scientific methodology," apparently. Doesn't seems to matter which one. No questions about the sort of ontological assumptions inherent in any of the methodologies one has at one's disposal.
Problem 4: "Ontologies need to be engineered for particular purposes to ensure successful deployment, yet they also should be re-usable as much as possible. Tools and infrastructure to support the creation, use, and maintenance of ontologies must be created and evaluated." Say what?
So ontologies are like parachutes? Or old german sports cars? Or bombs?
Ontologies don't seem inuitively to be the sort of things which one engineers, or deploys, or sends to the shop for maintenance with some sort of conceptual socket wrench - it's a strangely mechanical way to speak about an organic process. (Organic meaning "arising in a non-silicon brain/mind" as opposed to mechanical meaning "arising in a constructed apparatus." An arbitrary distinction, true... but bear with me.)
As far as an infrastructure to support my ontology, that would have to be an epistemology and a metaphysics... now there are some under-studied fields of applied philosophy.
I applied ontology gives you a bunch of engineers and cog sci folks sitting around the lab grumbling about how to get their computer programs to talk to one another, then what would a room full of applied epistemologists look like?
A library? a Mensa meeting?
I don't think you could get two applied metaphysicians into a room together, but if you could, it would probably look like something out of a Beckett play.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
shit, man... for real?
January sucked. In the worst kind of way.
On the 21st, dear Mr. Tim colicked and died. That was terrible, though I'm grateful that I was there and could help him go out as peacefully as possible.
Chris came over and held on to me that night, and gave me a shoulder to cry on and fed the dogs and talked to me for hours about risk and loss and love and death.
On the 30th, he fell 200 feet while ice climbing, broke his neck, and died.
www.chrishunnicutt.com
His memorial sevice is tomorrow.
Dammit, I loved that kid.
For fuck's sake.
Other shit happened too, but I don't want to talk about it right now.
On the 21st, dear Mr. Tim colicked and died. That was terrible, though I'm grateful that I was there and could help him go out as peacefully as possible.
Chris came over and held on to me that night, and gave me a shoulder to cry on and fed the dogs and talked to me for hours about risk and loss and love and death.
On the 30th, he fell 200 feet while ice climbing, broke his neck, and died.
www.chrishunnicutt.com
His memorial sevice is tomorrow.
Dammit, I loved that kid.
For fuck's sake.
Other shit happened too, but I don't want to talk about it right now.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
ontology recapitulates philology
... or something like that.
Huntsman canned me, girl and I agreed that we were making each other miserable, i've taken a vow of poverty and returned to academia and it feels really really good.
$800 later Q is running quite well, thank-you-very-much, I'm kicking ass in deductive logic, doing just fine in 19th and 20th century, and afraid I'm a little over my head is Chomsky.
I have no idea how I'm going to pay for any of this... well, I mean, I'll be getting student loans, but I don't have them yet, and I think my rent check bounced, and we don't need to talk about bills, and I haven't exactly been admitted to the fine University of Utah yet....
eh...
at least I get to think again.
Huntsman canned me, girl and I agreed that we were making each other miserable, i've taken a vow of poverty and returned to academia and it feels really really good.
$800 later Q is running quite well, thank-you-very-much, I'm kicking ass in deductive logic, doing just fine in 19th and 20th century, and afraid I'm a little over my head is Chomsky.
I have no idea how I'm going to pay for any of this... well, I mean, I'll be getting student loans, but I don't have them yet, and I think my rent check bounced, and we don't need to talk about bills, and I haven't exactly been admitted to the fine University of Utah yet....
eh...
at least I get to think again.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
thanksgiving
new girl, new car, new job... all within five days.
craziness continues.
As opposed to my earlier post, I'm now the proud owner of an E28 (1983 BMW 533i) -- that's right, my mom finally gave me Q. And I met a real nice girl.
And the university hired me to be an overpaid secretary at the cancer center... nice folks, gorgeous architecture, killer benefits.
So I get to go back to grad school. And Tim's getting better every day.
Things aren't really that bad; they'll be even better once I start getting paychecks.
craziness continues.
As opposed to my earlier post, I'm now the proud owner of an E28 (1983 BMW 533i) -- that's right, my mom finally gave me Q. And I met a real nice girl.
And the university hired me to be an overpaid secretary at the cancer center... nice folks, gorgeous architecture, killer benefits.
So I get to go back to grad school. And Tim's getting better every day.
Things aren't really that bad; they'll be even better once I start getting paychecks.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
2:18 am wednesday
I'm not sure if I'm the sort of person I think I am - I mean, just tonight I've finally articulated the following:
Truth - I drive an old baby-poo-colored automatic-transmission volvo 240 sedan that's in desperate need of an oil change.
Self-concept - I like classic european "enthusiast" cars - BMW 2002 tii, Porsche 356B, Audi coupe, MGB...
Truth - I'm running Linux on an old dell laptop, and haven't bothered to track down a wireless card that will work.
Self-concept - I'm a "geek" who keeps up with the latest in technological arcana.
Truth - My cellphone is vintage 2004, and the hingey-part is tenuous, at best. And no, it doesn't have a camera. Or even a headset.
Self-concept - I'm "wired".
Truth - I do have an iPod, but it's just a shuffle, and I'm not entirely sure where it's located at present. Also, I currently have no way of updating it without resorting to my roommate's computer. (see above re: Linux)
Self-concept - I'm hip and with-it in the world of audio entertainment... and while I listen to unusual music, it's because I'm unique (not because I can't update my music collection).
Truth - Yes, I have a road bike, but it's new and shiny, and not the beat-up single-speed cross / messenger one I wish it were, and I haven't ridden it in months.
Self-concept - I'm athletic and urban-edgy.
Truth - I have a monstrosity of a thoroughbred on stall rest and a midget appaloosa I can't seem to get over a jump. It's been over 10 years since I rode in any sort of horse trial.
Self-concept - I ride three-day event horses.
Truth - I got all ridiculous when Coffee Girl asked me my name this morning... and she's the only girl in Utah who's winked at me.
Self-concept - I'm hot and chicks dig me. Oh wait, that's the self concept I *should* have. the one I actually have goes more like "I'm strangely shaped, and I have unpleasant features, and I don't look the way i think I should look so of course no girl would want to date me - why on earth would anyone worthwhile consider me dateable?" Shit, man.
Truth - My diet today consisted of one bowl of grapenuts with soymilk and a banana, a cup of coffee from aforementioned Coffee Girl, a Super Big Gulp (tm) of iced tea with vanilla flavor, two baked potatoes (one with blue cheese dressing on it, the other with barbecue sauce), a cup of hot cocoa, and a cup of hot Ronalds (tm) tea mix. And a pomegranate.
Self-concept - I'm a vegetarian who eats healthy, balanced meals.
well, that's suitably depressing.
Truth - I drive an old baby-poo-colored automatic-transmission volvo 240 sedan that's in desperate need of an oil change.
Self-concept - I like classic european "enthusiast" cars - BMW 2002 tii, Porsche 356B, Audi coupe, MGB...
Truth - I'm running Linux on an old dell laptop, and haven't bothered to track down a wireless card that will work.
Self-concept - I'm a "geek" who keeps up with the latest in technological arcana.
Truth - My cellphone is vintage 2004, and the hingey-part is tenuous, at best. And no, it doesn't have a camera. Or even a headset.
Self-concept - I'm "wired".
Truth - I do have an iPod, but it's just a shuffle, and I'm not entirely sure where it's located at present. Also, I currently have no way of updating it without resorting to my roommate's computer. (see above re: Linux)
Self-concept - I'm hip and with-it in the world of audio entertainment... and while I listen to unusual music, it's because I'm unique (not because I can't update my music collection).
Truth - Yes, I have a road bike, but it's new and shiny, and not the beat-up single-speed cross / messenger one I wish it were, and I haven't ridden it in months.
Self-concept - I'm athletic and urban-edgy.
Truth - I have a monstrosity of a thoroughbred on stall rest and a midget appaloosa I can't seem to get over a jump. It's been over 10 years since I rode in any sort of horse trial.
Self-concept - I ride three-day event horses.
Truth - I got all ridiculous when Coffee Girl asked me my name this morning... and she's the only girl in Utah who's winked at me.
Self-concept - I'm hot and chicks dig me. Oh wait, that's the self concept I *should* have. the one I actually have goes more like "I'm strangely shaped, and I have unpleasant features, and I don't look the way i think I should look so of course no girl would want to date me - why on earth would anyone worthwhile consider me dateable?" Shit, man.
Truth - My diet today consisted of one bowl of grapenuts with soymilk and a banana, a cup of coffee from aforementioned Coffee Girl, a Super Big Gulp (tm) of iced tea with vanilla flavor, two baked potatoes (one with blue cheese dressing on it, the other with barbecue sauce), a cup of hot cocoa, and a cup of hot Ronalds (tm) tea mix. And a pomegranate.
Self-concept - I'm a vegetarian who eats healthy, balanced meals.
well, that's suitably depressing.
Monday, October 23, 2006
fall
It's a beautiful clear-cold day. The kitchen table is now useful as such, so I'm sitting at it sipping my coffee and writing as the sun comes in across the cat.
The vet will be out at 2:30 for tim's tendon. I really hope it's just a strain and not bowed, and I hope the vet will bill me instead of requiring payment today, and i hope bute is still cheap.
I'm still wearing my footy pajamas and a bathrobe even through it's a quarter after 10; the little joys of unemployment.
I'm running out of jobs to apply for, the state is taking 10 days to deposit my unemployment into my account, my phone won't hold a charge for more than 4 hours, and my dogs are going stir crazy.
I think i'll move my books upstairs and try to un-crowd my bedroom a little. Maybe that'll be my project this afternoon post-vet.
I'm at that stage of unemployment where I'm antsy and making up schedules so I'll have something to do.
grrrr.
The vet will be out at 2:30 for tim's tendon. I really hope it's just a strain and not bowed, and I hope the vet will bill me instead of requiring payment today, and i hope bute is still cheap.
I'm still wearing my footy pajamas and a bathrobe even through it's a quarter after 10; the little joys of unemployment.
I'm running out of jobs to apply for, the state is taking 10 days to deposit my unemployment into my account, my phone won't hold a charge for more than 4 hours, and my dogs are going stir crazy.
I think i'll move my books upstairs and try to un-crowd my bedroom a little. Maybe that'll be my project this afternoon post-vet.
I'm at that stage of unemployment where I'm antsy and making up schedules so I'll have something to do.
grrrr.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
i want to do what the common people do
so i have the foxy new haircut -- i'm back to looking like my old self. Now I just need the job to go with it - this whole po' thing is old.
I keep getting that william shatner song stuck in my head - y'know, the common people one, with the line about "you think poor is cool" - it's strangely catchy.
Tim pulled a tendon yesterday - so i had to move both him and hazel into stalls - it's nice to not have to slog through the mud, but so much for his eventing career in the spring. poor guy.
i think i do too much stuff to successfully find anyone to date - unless I happen to find a clone of myself, they're probably not going to be interested in my horses and dogs to the extent i am.
sigh.
I keep getting that william shatner song stuck in my head - y'know, the common people one, with the line about "you think poor is cool" - it's strangely catchy.
Tim pulled a tendon yesterday - so i had to move both him and hazel into stalls - it's nice to not have to slog through the mud, but so much for his eventing career in the spring. poor guy.
i think i do too much stuff to successfully find anyone to date - unless I happen to find a clone of myself, they're probably not going to be interested in my horses and dogs to the extent i am.
sigh.
Friday, October 13, 2006
October 13th
A year ago today, this little sleeping monkey on my lap was nearly disemboweled. Another dog living with us got into some sort of altercation with him, and my roommate called me at work to tell me I needed to come home NOW.
When I got to the house, I saw Bill holding a bleeding shocky dog on the counter wrapped in a towel. I scooped the dog up and we drove five blocks to the most incredible vet in the world who met us at the front door and ran him into surgery. I had just made it back to the house when she called and said I needed to get back to the clinic - his lung had collapsed while he was on the table and he needed to go to the doggy ER. I spun the car around, raced back to the clinic, and was met at the door by her surgery tech. We turned the front seat of the volvo into a makeshift dog ambulance complete with oxygen tank and heart monitor, so by the time the doc had stapled his side shut and run back with him to the front, the car was turned around and running. We loaded the dog in, and I drove to the emergency clinic (running all the red lights) with one hand on Connor, saying "hang on little man, hang on, buddy, just a few more blocks, you'll be okay, you can do it..."
At the emergency vet, he went back in to surgery and I was sent home. I hadn't even made it three blocks away when I got the phone call that he was trying to die whenever he would roll onto his side. He had to be kept upright for his heart to keep beating. As soon as I left the clinic, his heart had stopped.
I had to pull the car over.
The nice, calm woman on the phone told me that i should go home, get some rest, and come back in a few hours. She assured me that at this point they were doing everything they could and it would be up to him to decide if he wanted to stay or go. The surgeon was working on stabilizing his rib fractures, they were trying to keep the swelling down on his brain, but they would call when I could come back and see him and we could talk about more options.
All I remember from that afternoon is crying. Gut-wrenching sobs, hyserical stupid.
I went back to the vet that evening, and he was on the treatment table propped up with towels. His side was torn open from his ear down his back, around his foreleg, and all the way to his sternum. He had two broken ribs, a collapsed lung, massive crushing head trauma, his ear was almost ripped completely off, and there was a huge hole in his neck; deep enough to see his trachea and jugular vein. His left front leg was shredded, he had puncture wounds all over his abdomen, and he was bleeding from his nose. His head was so swollen that he couldn't open his one good eye, and his tongue was paper-white.
I put my hands on either side of him, kissed the thumbprint cookie-head, and told him that he'd done a very good job and could go if he wanted to. He was still in a coma, but as soon as I touched him his blood pressure came up and his heart rate stabilized. He was trying to stay.
The vets never asked me to leave, so I stayed that way with him until the next morning - during the night he had a hard time breathing so we had to intubate him, and he needed stronger meds to keep the swelling down on his brain. they put in a jugular catheter at about 3 in the morning to help with the meds, and I held his oxygen mask and kept him from slipping sideways until the sun came up. At that point he had been pretty stable for about 12 hours, so they told me I could go home and get some sleep, and they'd call me if anything changed.
As soon as I left, his blood pressure dropped again and his body temperature went down. I got a phone call at about seven that he needed a blood transfusion, and was going into the oxygen tank. They managed to keep his swelling down and his blood pressure up, but he was nowhere near out of the woods when the money ran out and I had to take him home the next day.
We set him up in his crate with pillows for positioning, his IV bag with antibiotics and pain meds hanging from the lamp, and the heating pad under him to keep him warm. I stayed on the floor in the living room with him, and I didn't take my hands off of him for the next four days. What little sleep i got was with my head and shoulders in his crate, making sure he was still breathing.
We finally moved him into my bed and started his medication regimen on day three - pain meds injected every three hours, more pain meds orally every six hours, antibiotics by mouth every six hours (two hours after the pain meds cause they interact), syringe feeding every hour (a baby food and liver smoothie), and bandage changes every three hours after the pain meds have time to kick in. Also, i had to carry him outside to go potty each hour after he eats, and hold him up since he can't stand. With his IV bag balanced on my shoulder.
Over the next three months, he got progressively better. We were at the vet every three days for cultures and resuturing and checkups, and he developed some nasty systemic infections that required absurdly expensive antibiotics to treat, but overall he's been recovering steadily ever since. We had some minor setbacks with abscesses blowing out all over and stinky draining pus from staph infections in his bloodstream, but once we found the correct cocktail of drugs, the abscesses quit blowing and his nasty gash in his armpit started to heal.
So today, a year later, his ear looks almost normal, the scars on his legs are barely noticeable, the giant hole in his neck is gone entirely, and his ribs don't crunch when you hug him. He has quite a bit of scar tissue on his left side, and a couple strange 'bridges' of tissue where there's still some drainage right by his armpit. His left back leg (where all the nasty abscesses were) has some larger scars on it, but is just as functional as it was before (it's the one that's held together with pins from the SUV incident when he was a puppy). He moves a little slower than he used to, and he gets grumpy a little easier, and he doesn't seem as able to tolerate extremes of heat and cold. He's a bit more cuddly than he was, and he's certainly more demanding of my time. He has lost a lot of his range of motion in that left leg, but he still runs around pretty well - he won his class at the lure coursing event in August.
I'm amazed and grateful that he's made it here, and I'm not sure if there's an appropriate way to thank all the people who helped him through his (and my) time of need. To start, the litany:
Thank you Bill Doctorman for your Eagle Scout first aid skills, and your crisis management skills, and for keeping as much of his blood in as possible.
Thank you Djai for financial help even though you didn't understand, and for the ebay supplies that kept his guts in.
Thank you Dr. Daroowalla for dropping everything that day and seeing me through the next six months.
Thank you Southern Arizona Veterinary Specialty for letting me hold him sternal to keep him breathing those first 48 hours, and for the oxygen tank, and the blood transfusions, and the heart-restarting, and the dedication and commitment of your staff.
Thank you Senna for your banana-nut muffin and your kindness.
Thank you Egan and the Summit Hut for letting me bring him to work even when he was incontinent and infected, and for understanding our many many vet appointments.
Thank you Genevieve for helping with the caregiver burnout, and for providing the space for Connor's first outing even though he tried to eat your cats.
Thank you Casey for listening to me babble hysterically and for the energy and the candles and the magic - and for tending to the others while I was consumed with the little man.
Thank you to all the Beverly Drive kids - Anna and Tree and Thom and Logan and Bill (again) and Chris - for your patience with my crazy dog and my crazy self. I can't think of a better group of housemates to hold the place together when i have to sleep on the floor in the living room to keep my dog breathing. You guys are the best. No-one else would put up with bloody terrier bandages on the bathroom counter every four hours.
Thank you mom for giving me permission to keep going, and the ability and wherewithal to see it through.
Thank you Chaz for being a responsible sort of guy and picking up your end of the SAVS bill.
I'm not very good at this sort of effusive gratitude, but I need to be, because every morning i wake up with him tucked into the back of my knee, and I'm astounded that he's still alive.
Until a year ago today, i didn't know I could love anything this much or this deeply, or this unconditionally. Now I can't stop.
he's snoring, and I'm happy.
When I got to the house, I saw Bill holding a bleeding shocky dog on the counter wrapped in a towel. I scooped the dog up and we drove five blocks to the most incredible vet in the world who met us at the front door and ran him into surgery. I had just made it back to the house when she called and said I needed to get back to the clinic - his lung had collapsed while he was on the table and he needed to go to the doggy ER. I spun the car around, raced back to the clinic, and was met at the door by her surgery tech. We turned the front seat of the volvo into a makeshift dog ambulance complete with oxygen tank and heart monitor, so by the time the doc had stapled his side shut and run back with him to the front, the car was turned around and running. We loaded the dog in, and I drove to the emergency clinic (running all the red lights) with one hand on Connor, saying "hang on little man, hang on, buddy, just a few more blocks, you'll be okay, you can do it..."
At the emergency vet, he went back in to surgery and I was sent home. I hadn't even made it three blocks away when I got the phone call that he was trying to die whenever he would roll onto his side. He had to be kept upright for his heart to keep beating. As soon as I left the clinic, his heart had stopped.
I had to pull the car over.
The nice, calm woman on the phone told me that i should go home, get some rest, and come back in a few hours. She assured me that at this point they were doing everything they could and it would be up to him to decide if he wanted to stay or go. The surgeon was working on stabilizing his rib fractures, they were trying to keep the swelling down on his brain, but they would call when I could come back and see him and we could talk about more options.
All I remember from that afternoon is crying. Gut-wrenching sobs, hyserical stupid.
I went back to the vet that evening, and he was on the treatment table propped up with towels. His side was torn open from his ear down his back, around his foreleg, and all the way to his sternum. He had two broken ribs, a collapsed lung, massive crushing head trauma, his ear was almost ripped completely off, and there was a huge hole in his neck; deep enough to see his trachea and jugular vein. His left front leg was shredded, he had puncture wounds all over his abdomen, and he was bleeding from his nose. His head was so swollen that he couldn't open his one good eye, and his tongue was paper-white.
I put my hands on either side of him, kissed the thumbprint cookie-head, and told him that he'd done a very good job and could go if he wanted to. He was still in a coma, but as soon as I touched him his blood pressure came up and his heart rate stabilized. He was trying to stay.
The vets never asked me to leave, so I stayed that way with him until the next morning - during the night he had a hard time breathing so we had to intubate him, and he needed stronger meds to keep the swelling down on his brain. they put in a jugular catheter at about 3 in the morning to help with the meds, and I held his oxygen mask and kept him from slipping sideways until the sun came up. At that point he had been pretty stable for about 12 hours, so they told me I could go home and get some sleep, and they'd call me if anything changed.
As soon as I left, his blood pressure dropped again and his body temperature went down. I got a phone call at about seven that he needed a blood transfusion, and was going into the oxygen tank. They managed to keep his swelling down and his blood pressure up, but he was nowhere near out of the woods when the money ran out and I had to take him home the next day.
We set him up in his crate with pillows for positioning, his IV bag with antibiotics and pain meds hanging from the lamp, and the heating pad under him to keep him warm. I stayed on the floor in the living room with him, and I didn't take my hands off of him for the next four days. What little sleep i got was with my head and shoulders in his crate, making sure he was still breathing.
We finally moved him into my bed and started his medication regimen on day three - pain meds injected every three hours, more pain meds orally every six hours, antibiotics by mouth every six hours (two hours after the pain meds cause they interact), syringe feeding every hour (a baby food and liver smoothie), and bandage changes every three hours after the pain meds have time to kick in. Also, i had to carry him outside to go potty each hour after he eats, and hold him up since he can't stand. With his IV bag balanced on my shoulder.
Over the next three months, he got progressively better. We were at the vet every three days for cultures and resuturing and checkups, and he developed some nasty systemic infections that required absurdly expensive antibiotics to treat, but overall he's been recovering steadily ever since. We had some minor setbacks with abscesses blowing out all over and stinky draining pus from staph infections in his bloodstream, but once we found the correct cocktail of drugs, the abscesses quit blowing and his nasty gash in his armpit started to heal.
So today, a year later, his ear looks almost normal, the scars on his legs are barely noticeable, the giant hole in his neck is gone entirely, and his ribs don't crunch when you hug him. He has quite a bit of scar tissue on his left side, and a couple strange 'bridges' of tissue where there's still some drainage right by his armpit. His left back leg (where all the nasty abscesses were) has some larger scars on it, but is just as functional as it was before (it's the one that's held together with pins from the SUV incident when he was a puppy). He moves a little slower than he used to, and he gets grumpy a little easier, and he doesn't seem as able to tolerate extremes of heat and cold. He's a bit more cuddly than he was, and he's certainly more demanding of my time. He has lost a lot of his range of motion in that left leg, but he still runs around pretty well - he won his class at the lure coursing event in August.
I'm amazed and grateful that he's made it here, and I'm not sure if there's an appropriate way to thank all the people who helped him through his (and my) time of need. To start, the litany:
Thank you Bill Doctorman for your Eagle Scout first aid skills, and your crisis management skills, and for keeping as much of his blood in as possible.
Thank you Djai for financial help even though you didn't understand, and for the ebay supplies that kept his guts in.
Thank you Dr. Daroowalla for dropping everything that day and seeing me through the next six months.
Thank you Southern Arizona Veterinary Specialty for letting me hold him sternal to keep him breathing those first 48 hours, and for the oxygen tank, and the blood transfusions, and the heart-restarting, and the dedication and commitment of your staff.
Thank you Senna for your banana-nut muffin and your kindness.
Thank you Egan and the Summit Hut for letting me bring him to work even when he was incontinent and infected, and for understanding our many many vet appointments.
Thank you Genevieve for helping with the caregiver burnout, and for providing the space for Connor's first outing even though he tried to eat your cats.
Thank you Casey for listening to me babble hysterically and for the energy and the candles and the magic - and for tending to the others while I was consumed with the little man.
Thank you to all the Beverly Drive kids - Anna and Tree and Thom and Logan and Bill (again) and Chris - for your patience with my crazy dog and my crazy self. I can't think of a better group of housemates to hold the place together when i have to sleep on the floor in the living room to keep my dog breathing. You guys are the best. No-one else would put up with bloody terrier bandages on the bathroom counter every four hours.
Thank you mom for giving me permission to keep going, and the ability and wherewithal to see it through.
Thank you Chaz for being a responsible sort of guy and picking up your end of the SAVS bill.
I'm not very good at this sort of effusive gratitude, but I need to be, because every morning i wake up with him tucked into the back of my knee, and I'm astounded that he's still alive.
Until a year ago today, i didn't know I could love anything this much or this deeply, or this unconditionally. Now I can't stop.
he's snoring, and I'm happy.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
ridiculous things we already knew about me
| Advanced Global Personality Test Results
|
personality tests by similarminds.com
craziness
items of note:
linux rocks
bran mash in your hair is actually kind of funny
girls are absurdly frustrating
i may have a job interview on monday
my roommate is moving out, which is rather sad
new roommates are moving in
i have to go get furniture, and dishes, and panic snaps
i remembered how to do an eye splice today, and a whipping.
my head sorta hurts
i don't actually know if I'm dating material
maybe the dumb boy was right - I have no love to give.
linux rocks
bran mash in your hair is actually kind of funny
girls are absurdly frustrating
i may have a job interview on monday
my roommate is moving out, which is rather sad
new roommates are moving in
i have to go get furniture, and dishes, and panic snaps
i remembered how to do an eye splice today, and a whipping.
my head sorta hurts
i don't actually know if I'm dating material
maybe the dumb boy was right - I have no love to give.
Monday, October 02, 2006
and then, an hour later,
I got fired.
phooey on that.
now everyone and their mom gets a copy of my resume.
phooey on that.
now everyone and their mom gets a copy of my resume.
Friday, September 29, 2006
awwww
usually i wander over to the clinic side around lunchtime, because the drug reps buy us lunch nearly every day. being the only vegetarian on the floor, I've become quite good at subsisting on side dishes or crackers and water. today, the clinic manager bought lunch for everyone - huge long subway sandwiches full of dead animals.
I took my usual side dish and bottle of water, and she said "wait - i got you a special veggie sandwich!"
i have never spoken to this woman before in my life.
she made my whole day.
I took my usual side dish and bottle of water, and she said "wait - i got you a special veggie sandwich!"
i have never spoken to this woman before in my life.
she made my whole day.
chewing through the leather straps
... i could hardly get out of bed this morning. I think getting yelled at every night is taking its toll on my ability to rest. Roommate and I had the same conversation last night as we did the night before - nearly verbatim.
him: "you're being so selfish! how do you think I can come up with my half of the rent in 2 days?"
me: "I don't know. we could get a third roommate."
him: "and then I'd have to put up with another fucking person?
me: "yes."
him: "haven't I always been here for you? Don't I always try to help you out?"
me: "yes, even though I don't always want or need your help."
him: "what?!? I've always helped you out! {goes through a litany of ways he's 'helped'}. How come you're so selfish?"
me: "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that."
him: {stares at the TV for 3 solid minutes drinking cheap whiskey}
me: "is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"
him: {crosses arms and makes a snide face} "er. ohhh. ummm. dammit, you're being a selfish bitch after all I've done for you! Why don't you get rid of the dogs or the horses or something, instead of asking me to pay my 'half' of the rent? You know I never would have moved in here if I had to do that. You told me that you would pay 2/3 and I would pay 1/3. I told you I could help you out with utilities, even though I shouldn't have to. Why are you going back on your word?"
me: "we've had this conversation before, and we're not getting anywhere. i'm going outside now."
him: "get back here! why do you always leave? friends communicate. why won't you talk to me? Fucking bitch."
me: "no. this conversation is over."
geez, man.
then i get to work this morning and get this email from my boss:
"Your first prioity according to our meeting last week was and then to audit . Not to do this flow sheet. I'm concerned about your prioritization and efficiency. I will make time tomorrow to discuss my concerns with you."
him: "you're being so selfish! how do you think I can come up with my half of the rent in 2 days?"
me: "I don't know. we could get a third roommate."
him: "and then I'd have to put up with another fucking person?
me: "yes."
him: "haven't I always been here for you? Don't I always try to help you out?"
me: "yes, even though I don't always want or need your help."
him: "what?!? I've always helped you out! {goes through a litany of ways he's 'helped'}. How come you're so selfish?"
me: "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that."
him: {stares at the TV for 3 solid minutes drinking cheap whiskey}
me: "is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"
him: {crosses arms and makes a snide face} "er. ohhh. ummm. dammit, you're being a selfish bitch after all I've done for you! Why don't you get rid of the dogs or the horses or something, instead of asking me to pay my 'half' of the rent? You know I never would have moved in here if I had to do that. You told me that you would pay 2/3 and I would pay 1/3. I told you I could help you out with utilities, even though I shouldn't have to. Why are you going back on your word?"
me: "we've had this conversation before, and we're not getting anywhere. i'm going outside now."
him: "get back here! why do you always leave? friends communicate. why won't you talk to me? Fucking bitch."
me: "no. this conversation is over."
geez, man.
then i get to work this morning and get this email from my boss:
"Your first prioity according to our meeting last week was
dude - it was PART of the audit. I am doing my job here...
why is this so difficult for her to see?
on the plus side, I think my finances are getting in order and I get to go cross country schooling tomorrow.
and there are a few girls I like.
and lori makes me coffee in the mornings.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
i love my mom
because of her, my budget graph for the next three months looks like an EKG, instead of a seismograph.
though I do have a bit of a wandering baseline, it never goes below the Y axis.
though I do have a bit of a wandering baseline, it never goes below the Y axis.
things of which I am fond
- my secretary's habit of making coffee for me in the mornings
- southern culture on the skids
- the heater under my desk
- www.harmonyhorseriding.com
- crystal-clear blue skies and mountains turning red and gold
- tough little Latinas
- oatmeal
back in the land of the tech-identified
what's happened in the 14 months since I last posted?
well, I:
- failed to get knocked up
- broke up with the boy (in a rather spectacular fashion)
- left Tucson in a hurry
- settled remarkably comfortably in the belly of the beast
- got an office with a door and a window
- was adopted by two horses
(that's me riding the big one, and my friend holding the little one)
- began to wear high heels to work every day
- started on the adventure of home ownership
- returned to coprporate america
- elected to postpone grad school
- continued becoming bitter and jaded
- had two birthdays
- posted the following personal ad:
For a short time only, if you possess at least 2/3 of these necessary (though not sufficient) requirements, you can win a date with me. Ready?
1. house (that's not with me)
2. job (that I didn't get for you, and that pays you enough to subsist)
3. car (or bike or skateboard or bus pass... as long as you're mobile without my help)
4. relatively stable mental health (in therapy; you're good.)
5. no illegal addictions (cigarettes are fine)
6. social skills (can I take you to the company christmas party?)
7. personal hygeine (do you shower more than once a month?)
8. an education (or the desire to get one - i'm okay with the school of hard knocks)
9. opinions (of your very own)
10. goals (also of your very own)
11. hobbies (please, no video/computer games. they're not hobbies.)
12. an adequate sex drive (to be determined)
13. a healthy relationship with your family (natural or constructed)
What you get: I'm a 29 year old butch dyke, except when I have to drag it up at work and then I'm a butch dyke in a power suit. I'm 5'8, a size 6 in girl clothes, and relatively attractive (though I have a pretty impressive black eye at the moment). I have a good job, a decent house, a bunch of dogs, a couple of horses, and a token cat. I can drive a stick shift, know which fork to use, speak multiple languages, and won't embarrass you in public. I don't dance or believe in god. I like dark beer and red wine.
If you know what three-day eventing is, you will automatically be my friend. If you have a truck and extra-tall horse trailer, I will follow you around like a border collie.
I don't eat animals, though I'm not offended by people who do. I live under a pop culture rock, and am much more comfortable discussing Aristotle than network TV. Despite that flaw, I can be fun at parties, and I have very good manners. We'll talk about sex later - suffice it to say I'm not shy, and can talk to anyone about anything. I'm also that rarest of breeds - a butch bottom.
Interested? Care to find out if I meet your criteria?
email is good - spelling counts.
well, I:
- failed to get knocked up
- broke up with the boy (in a rather spectacular fashion)
- left Tucson in a hurry
- settled remarkably comfortably in the belly of the beast
- got an office with a door and a window
- was adopted by two horses
(that's me riding the big one, and my friend holding the little one)
- began to wear high heels to work every day
- started on the adventure of home ownership
- returned to coprporate america
- elected to postpone grad school
- continued becoming bitter and jaded
- had two birthdays
- posted the following personal ad:
For a short time only, if you possess at least 2/3 of these necessary (though not sufficient) requirements, you can win a date with me. Ready?
1. house (that's not with me)
2. job (that I didn't get for you, and that pays you enough to subsist)
3. car (or bike or skateboard or bus pass... as long as you're mobile without my help)
4. relatively stable mental health (in therapy; you're good.)
5. no illegal addictions (cigarettes are fine)
6. social skills (can I take you to the company christmas party?)
7. personal hygeine (do you shower more than once a month?)
8. an education (or the desire to get one - i'm okay with the school of hard knocks)
9. opinions (of your very own)
10. goals (also of your very own)
11. hobbies (please, no video/computer games. they're not hobbies.)
12. an adequate sex drive (to be determined)
13. a healthy relationship with your family (natural or constructed)
What you get: I'm a 29 year old butch dyke, except when I have to drag it up at work and then I'm a butch dyke in a power suit. I'm 5'8, a size 6 in girl clothes, and relatively attractive (though I have a pretty impressive black eye at the moment). I have a good job, a decent house, a bunch of dogs, a couple of horses, and a token cat. I can drive a stick shift, know which fork to use, speak multiple languages, and won't embarrass you in public. I don't dance or believe in god. I like dark beer and red wine.
If you know what three-day eventing is, you will automatically be my friend. If you have a truck and extra-tall horse trailer, I will follow you around like a border collie.
I don't eat animals, though I'm not offended by people who do. I live under a pop culture rock, and am much more comfortable discussing Aristotle than network TV. Despite that flaw, I can be fun at parties, and I have very good manners. We'll talk about sex later - suffice it to say I'm not shy, and can talk to anyone about anything. I'm also that rarest of breeds - a butch bottom.
Interested? Care to find out if I meet your criteria?
email is good - spelling counts.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
things i never expected
driving an automatic transmission baby-poop-colored volvo
wearing birkenstocks year round
doing both of the above of my own free will and volition
receiving sickly sweet text messages from my person of interestaccepting a description of myself as a "Crunchy hippie" without resorting to tactical nuclear weapons for refutation
being a military wife
humidity in the desert - it's like nature's own bread oven for really good crusts.
to think that 90 degree weather might require a sweater - just in case
the spanish inquisition
cottage-cheese-and-cool-ranch-dorito cravings
diagnosis of mental illness would be complicated...
the wikipedia entry for "mobile phone" includes this bit of brilliance...
Speculative improvements in the future may be inspired by an English team led by James Auger and Jimmy Loizeau who in 2002, developed an implant designed to be inserted into a tooth during dental surgery. This device consists of a radio receiver and transducer, which transmits the sound via bone conduction through the jawbone into the ear. Sound is transmitted via radio waves from another device (ostensibly a mobile phone) and received by the implant. The implant is currently powered externally, given that no current power source is small enough to fit inside the tooth with it. In addition, the implant was only designed to receive signals, not transmit them. Directly tapping into the inner ear or the auditory nerve is already technologically feasible and will become practical as surgical methods advance.
wouldn't this lead to folks talking to themselves a lot a lot?
Speculative improvements in the future may be inspired by an English team led by James Auger and Jimmy Loizeau who in 2002, developed an implant designed to be inserted into a tooth during dental surgery. This device consists of a radio receiver and transducer, which transmits the sound via bone conduction through the jawbone into the ear. Sound is transmitted via radio waves from another device (ostensibly a mobile phone) and received by the implant. The implant is currently powered externally, given that no current power source is small enough to fit inside the tooth with it. In addition, the implant was only designed to receive signals, not transmit them. Directly tapping into the inner ear or the auditory nerve is already technologically feasible and will become practical as surgical methods advance.
wouldn't this lead to folks talking to themselves a lot a lot?
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