Crap.

Do you ever have a moment where you are just absolutely miserable and you want to talk to someone about it - and you realize the one person you'd like to talk to about it is the one person you shouldn't talk to about it?

Crap.

Sidenote:  Adele steals my feelings out of my head and puts them in song.  Apparently so does James Taylor, Miley Cyrus (I just had to look up how to spell her last name.  I am proud that I don't know that off the top of my head.), Augustana, The Newsies, Joni Mitchell and Carole King. 

I cope with music, if you can't tell.  And I have weird taste.  Don't judge me.

I'm a sink with an open drain.

It's that time of year.

Twice a year I get to take a trip to the Ocularist. I call it a doctor's appointment, though technically it's not. He's not a doctor. He's an Ocularist. He makes artificial eyes. (Don't worry, you have to be certified and it takes like 7 years of training...you just aren't an MD.)

It's so strange to me that people aren't familiar with it.  As it has been a part of my life for the past 15 years. 

It's a pretty simple process most visits (unless you're having a brand new one made...then it's like a crazy 2 day process).  They do a check-up, make sure that it's fitting properly, do a thorough surface cleaning and then I'm out the door. 

Unless it needs some tweaking, which it did today.  This tends to take awhile because they have to figure out exactly what they need to change for it to fit properly and then he goes back, makes the changes, comes back out, I have to sit there for a bit to let it settle in and then we look at it and make sure it's alright.  And if it's not, we do that whole process over again.

Today it was just one fix.  Not so bad.  But still, I always sit there thinking "nobody else I know ever has to do this". 

Just me.  I am the only person I know with a prosthetic eye.  I have met other people with prosthetic eyes, but I don't have any friends or acquaintances who have one. 

Which means, I can't have one of those complainy convos with a buddy like "ugh, y'know when you go in and they have to make an impression of your socket?  and it stings so badly?  ugh I hate that" and they're all "me too!  so annoying."

No, if I said that to you (or perhaps if you just read it), you'd probably just have a look of fear/disgust/confusion on your face.  It's ok,  it's really not so bad.  Don't have nightmares from reading my blog.

I'm just saying.  I'm sort of on my own out here in the world of prosthetic eyes. 

Want to know something cool though?

I used to hate talking about it.  I would cry anytime anyone asked me anything.  Because, well, it was sad for me.  And a somewhat traumatic thing for a 12 year old to go through.  And I was still so ashamed and embarrassed and uncomfortable about it.

But now...I don't cry anymore.  It's so matter of fact to me after this much time.  And honestly, I like educating people about it.  Because what makes it uncomfortable sometimes is people asking questions that, to me, feel insensitive.  But they're usually not.  It's just that the person literally has had NO exposure to something like this.  So I tell them.  And then they know.  And then if they run into someone else with a prosthetic eye (tell them I say hello!) - they will understand and perhaps sympathize and make that other person a little more comfortable.

So, yay that I can write about my prosthesis on my blog and not be afraid.  (Or at least, not be nearly as afraid as I would've been 5 or 10 years ago.)

It's just a part of who I am.

Other truth?  Sometimes I sing Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl as "One Eyed Girl" and jam out with myself.  Why not?  Don't judge me.  It's kinda fun.  Doesn't sound quite as good, but it's a song about me!

Goodbye Sweet Boy

Friday morning, I said goodbye to my best friend.  You may roll your eyes...but really, my dog Charley was the best friend I could ever ask for.  He was there for me constantly - anytime I wanted or needed him, he loved me unconditionally, he made me smile and laugh every single day, and he was always willing to wipe (or lick) away my tears.  He was completely devoted 100% of the time.  Those are just a few of the little joys he brought to my life. 

I had a really hard time deciding to let him go.  It was such a painful choice to make, but I was almost feeling selfish making him put up with his pain so I could have him there.  Now, really, I don't know how much pain he was actually in because he couldn't tell me...and I had him hopped up on codeine (chicken flavored!  my vet is awesome...) all the time.  But as I looked back at pictures and I saw him sitting up or standing or...in motion...and I realized I couldn't remember the last time I actually saw him like that, it sort of hit me how far his disease had progressed. 

I was completely willing to pick him up and carry him everywhere and hand-feed him and bathe him every time we had an "accident".  But I finally had to ask myself what kind of life that was for him.  After many conversations with my vet and with my family, I decided it was time.  And now watching Scout run around and jump and play and go get a drink whenever she feels like it, I feel like I did the right thing. 

It doesn't make it any easier.  Even with Scout around, the apartment feels empty without Charley.  He just constantly showed his love for me and radiated happiness.  And I can feel it missing now... The little smile he would get on his face made my heart melt every time.  And he was so content just to sit against my leg or sleep in my arms.  It's where he was happiest - as close to me as he could be. 

I miss him so much.  Every morning I wake up and wish he was here.  I wish he had been a healthy dog so his life wouldn't have been cut so short. 

I am relieved he isn't hurting anymore.  But the relief just doesn't cancel out the grief. 

The vet who came to put him down made an imprint of his paw out of plaster and gave it to me, along with a poem called "The Rainbow Bridge".

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always food and water and warm spring weather. All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance.

His bright eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated.

I am going to believe in that.  Because it gives me hope that I will see my little guy again.  And we can mend the piece of my heart that he's taken with him.

I love you, Charley.  Goodbye my sweet boy.

Day 364: The largest city in the world can also be the loneliest.

Day 364: The largest city in the world can also be the loneliest., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
This is who I spent the evening with.

Day 340: Leaving on a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again.

Day 340: Leaving on a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
It was raining. Texas was crying because I was leaving.

Day 319: Help.

Day 319: Help., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
I need somebody. Not just anybody. You know I need someone. HEEEEEEEEELP!

Day 317: Seeing TITANIC exactly 100 years after it started sinking.

Day 317: Seeing TITANIC exactly 100 years after it started sinking., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
The ship hit the iceberg at 11:40PM on April 14th, 1912 and by 2:30am, it was completely underwater. It was a bit heartbreaking watching all the beauty and the sadness the film conveys and knowing that exactly 100 years before, it was a reality. I kept thinking about how it would've been different if that had happened today…coast guard and helicopters could've been there sooner and so many more people could've lived. Not to mention the fact that it would've probably been SO illegal not to have enough lifeboats that it wouldn't have sailed out without them.

This movie is better than I remember. Seriously. I mean, I remember seeing this in theatres but I was more blown away by Leo at the time! (oohhh leo…my 6th grade self was so in love with you…) But on a whole it's quite impressive (aside from the slightly old school computer images that were a bit obvious…) and very moving.

Day 313: This guy came to work with me today. He's the best ever.

Day 313: This guy came to work with me today. He's the best ever., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
I love him, I love him, I love him. Charley is literally the best dog ever in the entire world. He came to work with me because we had a vet appointment afterwards. As some of you may know, Charley has degenerative joint disease, which has led to severe arthritis. We (as in...my vet and I) have struggled to manage his pain and help him live as normal a life as we can, but his pain is getting worse. I've known for about a year or so now that Charley won't have a normal life expectancy. Eventually, his pain will become too much and I will have to let him go. When that happens will depend on how his new pain meds will work. But yesterday I was very scared that I was going to hear that my options were up and it was time. (I was a mess all day. There were tears.) Thankfully, we have 2 new meds to try to see if we can get him comfortable.

I tell you this so that if you see him sometime soon, you can give him lots of lovies and tell him how much you like him and what a great dog he is. Because he is. And I am making sure he knows that every single day. This dog is, quite literally, my best friend. You may think that sounds a little lame, but it's not. That's what he's supposed to be, right? He's always there to love me and comfort me and make me smile. And I hope I do the same for him as our time together winds down.

He's a good dog. Such a good dog.

Day 291: Ice and Stim! Hey hey PT.

Day 291: Ice and Stim! Hey hey PT., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
My poor little ankles. Wrapped in ice and being zapped with electricity.

Day 273: One of my favorite people in the entire world passed away today.

Day 273: One of my favorite people in the entire world passed away today., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

I'm about to put a pretty embarrassing fact about my life out into the world:

When I was a kid…maybe around 11 years old, my favorite band of all time was The Monkees. I had all their CDs. I had books, a lunchbox, posters…you name it. I loved them. I still do. But not with the pre-teen obsession I had back then. (I kid you not, my email handle was DavyJ67…for 1967 - the band's most successful year….yep. Insert totally embarrassed face here.)

Y'know how you were all into N'SYNC or NKOTB? Yeah, I was that intensely into the Monkees. And my favorite Monkee of them all was Davy Jones. He was my first real celebrity crush. Now, I didn't really have the celebrity crush on the 51 year old version….I had the crush on the guy from the TV show. In his 20's. Charming, handsome and that accent…oh boy.

One summer I even got to go see Davy in concert with Bobby Sherman and that guy from Herman's Hermits. Davy gave me his autograph, and like the 11 year old psychotically-excited girl I was, I screamed "I LOVE YOU DAVY!" He turned, smiled and said "I love you too!"

Davy's always had a special place in my heart. When I heard of his passing, I was so sad that the world had lost such a special person. I mean, look at that smile. He spread a lot of joy.

Feel free to make fun of me now. But I'm telling you, this music legend's (YES - HE IS A LEGEND - DON'T QUESTION ME) death shocked me 1000 times more than Whitney Houston. And yes, I even shed a tear for this adorable man.

"For today there is no day or night,
Today there is no dark or light,
Today there is no black or white…
Only shades of gray"
- The Monkees

Day 272: Sick day...in bed with lots of fluids.

Day 272: Sick day...in bed with lots of fluids., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
My iPhone camera is giving me such grainy pictures lately....I do apologize.

But yeah. Sick. Sad face. I sound like a Kathleen Turner Monster when I talk.

Day 248: Been waiting for 13 minutes....where is the bus?! It's cold.

Day 248: Been waiting for 13 minutes....where is the bus?! It's cold., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

And with 3 bags of groceries….yeesh!

Day 246: This is how I feel...

Day 246: This is how I feel..., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.


A blank page.  An empty book.
I am.
Thoughtless, wordless, forgotten.
No beginning or end.
Untouched.
With no direction.
With no pen or pencil to guide
An authorless storybook
No pictures inside.
Open, exposed
But with nothing to hide.
Lost, but there's nothing to find.
Unsure if I have enough ink to write
a story to fill the many, many pages
of nothing.

Day 160: Not the best day. (Tears)

Day 160: Not the best day., a photo by lalasappy on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
Got some bad news today. Something I was really hoping for isn't going to happen. I was surprised - I really thought this thing was going to go my way. But it didn't. So I called my mom. I cried. And today, I'm trying to move on. But I can't help but be really bummed about it.