Ultimately, the dog is responsible for my happiness.

I'm having one of those days. Contemplation runs rampant. The thought that's eating me to day is:

Ultimately, I'm responsible for my own happiness.

That's a lot of work. It feels overwhelming.

I'm already expecting a confrontation with Heifer tomorrow. I asked a simple question, and I expect to be blasted for it. I know that's her kick for power, her making me feel bad, and I'm letting her do it by letting it get to me, even when I know I'm in the right.

You have to understand, though, I still feel guilty about letting two Dobermans eat a pair of socks I took off a toddler for whom I babysat. I pulled them off, they gulped them up, and bam. I even explained to the parents what happened, and they laughed it off.

Poor dogs.

I see so many people say this: "Fuck guilt."

Okay, so how do you do it?

I feel guilty for being angry. Even the bible says, "Be angry, but do not sin." I tell my kids, "You can be mad at each other all you want. Yelling and screaming or otherwise working out your problems is perfectly acceptable. I draw the line, though, when you get insulting." I don't like them calling each other idiots, retards, spazzes, or fags. I guess that's pretty normal, huh? Point for me.

If I have to get mad, I feel guilty. Problem is, I know that my "angry" goes so far down that I'm obsessing about possibly getting my feelings hurt tomorrow. I know I'm going to crumble. I probably won't even shoot back a quick-witted reply, although I've already got an entire list running through my mind. Why? Because it will be my fault if she gets mad, then. I'll be perpetuating the problem.

I'm not sure this is making complete and total sense, so let me keep going. Maybe I'll get the concept straight in my own mind. This is how writing helps me most, keeping up a steady ramble until I can see it in print. It might also be justification for flight of ideas, who knows?

I have always been affected by others' negativity. I went for a temporary transcription job once at a really nice hospital. The lady for whom I took over constantly nagged and bitched about why she wanted to leave so badly. Never once did she say anything directly involving me; in fact, when she saw my abilities, she was quite complimentary. However, I could tell within an hour that it was HER who had the problem, not necessarily the others around her. How many temps do you know who are given parting gifts (hospital T-shirt, beanie babies, and a card), including your own personal specimen cup of gallstones and kidney stones? I know; I'm weird, but they're so interesting, and they knew I found them fascinating. I loved the pathology staff. Even the doctor, who had so many quirks, didn't bug me nearly 1/10 of what the resignee insinuated he would.

I want to fix things. I tell jokes and prostrate myself all the time. I'll do anything to blow sunshine up your ass, dammit. I want to make life better for other people, but how do I fix me?
I'm broken. I'm not incapacitated, yet, but I can sure see me becoming that way. I'm having dreams about running away from home, chucking my cell phone into the ocean when my kids start calling, crying, "Mommy, when you coming home?"

The other night, I whined about "when do I get my break?" Why haven't I created my own?

Quitting smoking would be so beneficial. Funny excuse?

My physician says, "You need to quit smoking."
I said, "Yeah, but I'll take hostages."
He said, "Just throw them away!"
I said, "The hostages?"
He got mad at his assistant, who left the room grinning.

I don't like me when I don't have my habit. I also use the excuse that, unless hub quits, I really don't have a chance. I could, you know, cut back. Chantix is a possibility. So why haven't I done it?

Another break: Lose some weight.

I don't eat a lot and I eat healthy foods (I don't like prepackaged, and I'd rather make it from scratch), but that's not the problem. My butt is stuck to this seat so much, either by work or by hobby. The dog needs walked; I could take him. Why don't I take mini breaks throughout the day to get away from it all?

Another break: Take a ride on the metrolink somewhere. Cheap, no wasted gas, but...I'd have to rearrange my entire schedule to do it. I hate changing stuff around.

Another break: Hang some laundry lines outside. That one I might be able to do. Just need to think about how to do it and dodge our all-to-frequent raindrops, but it will keep the natural gas bills lower. Ameren's really jerking us around over here.

Another break: For every negative, look for a positive. Okay. This one I'll have to work on over time, ingraining a new train of thought. Let's say that Heifer gets to me tomorrow. Why don't I go play with my dog, who loves me? Take him for a walk? Let's say the kids fighting gets to me, and I need to leave in order to keep the negativity from getting to me. I take the dog, who loves me, for a walk. Two possible solutions in one? One for my mind and two for my waistline? Go look for some beauty while I'm out and about?

Huh. It all comes back to the dog, who loves me whether I'm in my PJ's with a hole in the leg or if I'm wearing makeup. Interesting. I guess I could talk to him while I'm out. I guess crazier things have happened.

Except I'm still embarrassed about banging my head to Ozzy Osbourne in my car when I was 17, and some guy made fun of me from his car. I'm still embarrassed about my appendectomy experience, when I was freaking 9 years old, and the nurse told me to pull a cord if I needed some help. I just had surgery. I left my clothes on the other side of the room, and I hurt and it looked slippery, so I pulled the cord. When I looked out, no less than 10 emergency personnel and my mother, who looked absolutely faint, stood out there. I pulled the emergency cord. Whoops. Or when I was six and didn't realize the cow poop was deeper than it looked. I got sucked down up to my calves.

God, I suck. I refuse to put myself out there, lest I look stupid, and Heifer's making me feel and look stupid. Yet, if I want to make someone smile, I'm stupid on purpose, but that doesn't bug me. Why?

I'm the kind of person who can make all kinds of funny comments from the back of a crowded room but, Lord, put me in front of all those people, and I'd rather die. Why?

Mom asked me what my favorite Easter memory was. I told her that it was my worst AND my best. She made me a cute bunny outfit with a fluffy tail for a school function. The worst part of my 6-year-old self had to shake the tail at the audience, who laughed and laughed. I ran off stage from embarrassment. The best part is that my dad took the bunny ears from the brand-new costume, told us we couldn't peek, put them on, and hid eggs in front of God and everybody in the neighborhood, wearing those stupid ears.

And I loved him for it.

And Mom still has that costume.

Now I'm embarrassed for being such a whiny-ass bitch. I don't do this anywhere else, just here.
Maybe that's a problem in and of itself. How are people going to know what's going through my mind unless I tell them? God, I might hurt their feelings.

I call Ovis Ovis a wimp. Maybe I need a mirror.

So why don't I get embarrassed when I wear my slippers and flannel sleeping pants to get milk and soda? Because they don't question my intelligence. They don't question my honesty. They don't question my dedication. If my kids go with me, I will put on jeans as not to embarrass them, but the slippers...no way are those coming off my feet. They're nice ballerina slippers. I have four pair so I can wash and keep them looking good. I have one set for nearly every shirt I own. Heh. How's that for pathetic? I have more slippers than I do shoes, which is one pair of tennies. Like I said, I don't dress up much and I don't go to church, so what's the point?

It's also interesting to note that, although we definitely need the $$, I really work because it makes me feel good. I'm good at what I do, which is why any challenge to the contrary (i.e., Heifer), makes me feel like I've been bitch-slapped. I don't do what I'm not good at, or what makes me feel inferior. Sad, but true. I'm a quitter. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I know transcription is going obsolete, maybe in the next 10 years. Instead of renewing my LPN license, I'm looking at school again for web developing. It's not expensive, and I'd probably be good at it, or competitive enough not to look stupid in front of my peers, who will probably be mostly male and very, very young. Actually, that's sounding kind of fun, now. When I go, I'll probably have classmates not much older than my son! I can be the geek room mother! Woo hoo! Forget the scouts...

I just re-read this. It's rambling, but I think I need a source of unconditional love, i.e., the dog, motivation to get out of here, i.e., the dog, and assurance that I'm not a complete and total idiot, i.e., the dog.

I can't walk the bunny...