Bad day

I just feel like it needs to be recorded for posterity. No, really because it was momentous. It all began with one bad decision. Didn't I mention determinism in my last blog? It's becoming my theme... I had all the warning signs with Pip, I knew he was a difficult dog, it's just that he's so sweet to me... Made me think he'd be fine in the shop as long as no one else brought in their dogs. Plus I was being a little lazy, hey- why not combine walking the dog with going to work? He'll be happy to be around me for six hours instead of alone in the apartment, right? It's a flawless scenario. And it was fine until our first customer then I instantly discovered I'd made a huge mistake. He treated everyone who came through the door like an intruder and he was a guard dog. A tiny, fat guard dog. Don't turn your back on a dog, god knows what they get up to when you aren't looking, but it always sucks to find out. He went charging _at_ the first people to walk in. Not the excited tail waggle kind of charging, not the exuberant oh-my-god-I'm-so-happy-to-see-you kind of charging either, the viciously barking, a little bit snarly kind of charging. I couldn't help thinking everyone who came in must be wondering how insane I was to have an unfriendly dog in a shop. I'm not a dog owner, and I know so little of the dynamics or responsibilities of being one, down to simple facts. Another reason I recognized in hind sight why me bringing this dog into the shop was stupid. I thought about isolating him in the bathroom, but it isn't fair to punish him for my mistake, plus he'd bark like a little maniac at the bottom of the door, and how much better is that? I leashed him for a bit behind the cash rap with me. The leash was a bit short for something like that. I just kept him on my lap anyway, putting the alternating leg to sleep. Then I caught him weeing on the floor, it's impressive that a dog can stop mid wee when you freak out. I wish he could talk to me in those moments, say "Sarah, can you let me out so I can pee, I really, really need to go. I'm on the verge of doing it here on the floor." You see, I knew that was a danger too, and forgot about it. Everyday I clean his wee and poop off the apartment floor. Maybe he has a problem? Maybe it's a small dog thing. Big dogs seem to be able to hold it for days. So I was very attentive after that. Periodically popping on the leash and taking him out for a pee. Especially when his body language started to look like he was searching for a good place to go. So I take him out for that wee and I see this girl on a bike running her dog on a leash beside her, a bigger dog, and I freeze. I have him on a leash, it's just a matter of waiting for them to pass and letting him have his reaction then moving on. But suddenly the dog is making a bee-line for Pip and as if this isn't a preview I'm not actually sure what will happen. The pit bull attacks and I yank up on the leash then think about Pips throat and put him down, then all of a sudden the other girl is in their on top of these dogs fighting and pulling hers off. It would be amazing to just react in moments like that and not have to process what's going on. After I get the picture, understand what she's doing I reach in and remove Pip. She desperately asks if he is okay and apologizes. He was okay, thank god, because all I could think of was Ramy and how devastated she would have been. I took him inside and had a good look just to be sure, He was acting alright, no blood, no visible injuries, just a massive wet zone on his head where the pit bulls mouth had been. What a reminder that they are animals, that there is still wild in them, and that they are dangerous. Not Pip so much, he tries. I apologized to Pip. Because all of these problems were, in a sense, a chain reaction set in motion by one bad decision, my bad decision. I wanted to be angry at Scotti for not coming through for me when I asked him to come get Pip, but it wasn't Scotti's fault. It would have been a nice favor, it would have saved me in some sense. Maybe I'm a little angry about that... That's the first time, though. I guess this request was just past unreasonable for him. And so life reminds me it's complicated.

Someday I should talk about wabi-sabi, Epicurous, the art taking pleasure in little things, and the avoidance of suffering. But for now I will rest.

So angry about something so stupid

Really, I am. Every time I think about it I growl inside. I have a friend in MD and we occasionally send each other music links to share what we're listening to. It was something he exposed about himself that I can't get over, but still why? It's like it injures me some how, but does it? Apparently one of the songs I sent involved synthetic instruments, or whatever, I couldn't even tell. And he confessed that he essentially on principle hates synthetic music. I can't get over it, I really can't. I want to write to him and reem him out about being such an ass, but I know that isn't right and it is possible to confront something I have a reaction to with out exploding on a person. It's pretentious, disliking something on principle. "I'm better than synthetic music." Or assuming that it is inherently bad. I keep thinking about instruments that are standard in pop, rock, and indie music- the electric guitar and electric piano. Those are pretty synthetic, but so pervasive they are accepted without reflection. Why am I so deeply offended? Because I think he's a fucking idiot right now, a clueless one to boot. I think it's a building problem too, he has a bad case of cluelessness, it seems to be part of what defines his personality and I'm having a hard time forgiving him for it. Which probably ties into something much more important in my life that I can't seem to address directly so he gets the brunt of all my feelings. Poor guy, just a good guy who means nobody no harm.

I'm having issues owning my time. I'm giving it away, giving myself away in the process and I'm very upset about that, but more despondent than angry, more like a sad little dog that wants to be loved so desperately she lets herself be trampled underfoot. I know what I need to do, I even see moments when I need to say something and that little dog comes up to the surface so intensely she chokes the words in my throat and I deflate overwhelmed by futility. I hate how soppy-dramatic that sounds, but how do I capture the feeling that takes over in that moment? I feel a tad deterministic about this at the moment, but it's not permanent, nothing is.

I feel like all this impetus rests on me to come through, to be reliable- but that someone in particular doesn't have to be reliable or come through ever. I want to fucking cry because it's a massive wall that won't break down. I think my only option is to start saying no a lot and building a stockade of disappointment. And that option makes me want to cry too, the fact that I'm put in this position at all makes me so upset. I ask so little and he never hesitates to ask so much of me.